Chapter Text
Harry is exhausted. Her fingers are numb and aching and her eyes want nothing more than to slide shut on the spot. Boxes upon boxes of potions lay in the basement, ready to be distributed among the movement’s allies.
“You need to sleep, Harry,” says Archie as he downs another half-cup of strong coffee. He’s standing in the entrance to the basement, still in Healer robes with a pen in hand and his wand in his holster. “You’ve been there all day brewing potions that require high magical input.”
Harry looks around the basement. Do they have enough Skele-grow and Blood Replenishers and Essence of Dittany? The days where she’s able to just brew and brew are less often as she’s summoned more and more to the front lines of the war against Voldemort.
“C’mon, Harry,” urges Archie. “I know this is important, but you can’t make potions if you’re half-dead.”
“Okay,” replies Harry. “I’m going. What about you? I see your coffee, Archie. I’m pretty sure that much coffee at fifteen isn’t healthy.”
“I just need to finish writing another letter,” Archie says. “Come on. I need to see you go upstairs or you might just stay down here and fall asleep in your cauldron.”
Harry glances around the room one more time to ensure everything is in its proper place before trudging towards Archie. “Have you gotten anything from Leo?” she asks.
“Yeah. He’s fine. The Lower Alley folks are doing their best, and he says they’ve got some important information about the Death Eaters.”
“Thanks, Archie,” says Harry. She’s reached the top of the stairs. “Hey, Archie?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you do it again? Everything?”
Archie stands there, unmoving, the shadows beneath his eyes seeming to deepen. He swallows the rest of the coffee.
“I don’t really know, Harry. Was it worth it? When I went to AIM, I didn’t think I’d be applying my education to a war. All this bloodshed, all this fighting. So much has changed in so little time. This is awful. But the most awful part is that I think I would do it again, because if we’d never gone through with this I’d never have met Hermione, and Hermione is like half my life. I just hope that everything turns out semi-okay in the end.” Archie tries to smile, but it flickers out and he looks down at the floor. “I see Hermione every day, but -- I just don’t want to wake up one day and know she’s gone and that I won’t see her again.”
Harry takes the empty cup from Archie and sets it on the dining table, then shuffles towards their rooms, tugging on Archie’s sleeve the entire time. Archie can finish his letter tomorrow. Lily and James are sleeping already, and it’s just Harry and Archie awake in the Fidelius-protected house.
Archie just lies on his side of the bed, quiet in the heavy air.
“Goodnight, Archie,” whispers Harry from her side. “You’ll see Hermione tomorrow.”