Chapter Text
Harry pulled his cloak more tightly around himself against the uncharacteristically nippy breeze as he popped back into existence behind a plump evergreen tree. He was surrounded by a little stand of them—a safe Apparation spot in the little town of Godric's Hollow, blanketed in several Muggle-repelling charms. All the same, he peeked out from between the branches to scan the area before stepping out into the open.
Luckily, he did not expect to be out in the cold for very long. The walk to the house that had once belonged to his mother and father was fairly short, as all walks in Godric's Hollow tended to be. The streets were fairly deserted, for which he was grateful, since he had received more than a few confused and slightly worried looks from the residents on his last few visits. He supposed it was the cloak that did it, since none of the people currently living in the little town knew who he was, at least to his knowledge. It was one of the many reasons for which he loved the place.
As he rounded the last bend on the way to the house, he frowned in confusion and slowed his pace. A large object sat on the doorstep of what would soon be his new home, and he was quite sure that he had not left anything there on his last trip. The renovations he had undertaken on the old place were nearly complete, and it had recently been looking much tidier than it had for the past few months. His wand sat at his belt, carefully concealed in a leather holster, and he rested his hand on it under his cloak as he approached. Who was leaving things on his doorstep when no one in the magical world besides a few close friends knew of his plans to move?
Within a few steps, he sighed at himself and relaxed. The thing was not a thing at all, but a person, and a familiar one at that. He quickened his pace again, and the crunch of his shoes on the gravel walkway drew the attention of the figure sitting hunched on the front steps.
"Harry!" Hermione cried. Before Harry could comprehend what was going on, she had bounded off the steps and had her arms wrapped around his neck, her face buried in his shoulder. It took him a few seconds to realize that her cheeks were damp with tears.
"Hermione?" he said, bewildered and alarmed. "What's wrong? What happened?"
"I'm so stupid!" she declared into his shoulder. She was shaking, he realized, and he quickly wrapped his arms around her to steady her. "I've been so stupid, Harry," she added more quietly. "I've ruined everything."
"What are you talking about?" He gently shifted her off of his shoulder to get a proper look at her. Her eyes were red, standing out in sharp contrast to her pale face. He understood that she had been crying long before he arrived. "Here," he said, rummaging around in his pockets for a handkerchief.
"I quit," she said. Her voice trembled on the second word, as though she was afraid to say it aloud. She accepted the handkerchief and swiped at her eyes. "God, Harry, I just walked out on Auror training. I've never quit anything in my life, I-"
"Okay," he said, cutting her off before she could work herself up again. "Okay. Tell me what happened." He could not believe what he was hearing. He had never seen Hermione give up on anything in more than seven years, not even when he had been convinced that she would, during the months they had spent freezing and starving half to death on their Horcrux hunt.
She sighed and put her head back down on his shoulder.
"Nothing monumental, really," she murmured. "I had to take a break from running laps, and my trainer yelled at me for it, which is hardly new, but... I was exhausted, and everything hurt so badly, and I just snapped." She took a shaky breath. "I really let him have it, screaming and swearing and everything, which I'm sure was very amusing for everyone watching, but once I'd finished, I realized there was no way I was coming back after what I'd said. So I quit before I ended up getting fired, to keep whatever dignity I had left."
She returned to her seat on the front steps and drew her knees up to her chest.
"It was such a ridiculous thing to do," she muttered, "but I couldn't stop once I got started. I couldn't take the constant criticism anymore." A single tear rolled down her cheek as Harry joined her on the cold cement. "Isn't that pathetic? All my life, I've never given up on anything, and now I turn around and walk out on my career because it's too hard."
She spat the words in a self-deprecating voice that Harry had never heard, and he reached for her again, placing one hand on her back in a desperate attempt to support her.
"'Mione..." he began before he realized that he had no idea what he planned to say. He fell silent for a few moments before managing, "Look, Hermione, everyone has a breaking point. Maybe..." He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "Maybe you aren't meant to do everything, you know? Maybe you've just found out that being an Auror wasn't the best choice for you."
She sniffled and wiped her eyes again before putting her head down on her knees.
"Maybe, but... I just wanted it so badly."
"I know you did," he assured her, lightly patting her back. "Everyone knows you did, and we all watched you running yourself ragged trying to make it happen. No one's going to think that you quit because you were lazy, or you didn't want to make the effort," he added, knowing that she would worry. "None of us could ever think that about you. We all know how hard these past few months have been on you—it shows, you know—and honestly... Well, some of us have actually been wondering if you might be better off doing something else."
She looked at him for a long moment.
"Have you, now?" she said. He rubbed the back of his neck again, feeling uncomfortable. Her tone was not accusing, but she clearly knew that "some of us" meant him, and he felt a sudden twinge of guilt, as though he had been the only one in their little group of friends who had not had complete faith in her.
"It just bothers me to see you looking so run-down," he said awkwardly, deciding to abandon the ghostly figures he had aligned with himself and just tell her the truth. He hated lying to her, and there was really no point doing it when she already knew that he was. "I know that Auror training is really hard work and that it's normal for people to need time to adapt, but... Well, maybe it's just a Healer thing," he said, trying to make light of his worries, "but you've lost a lot of weight since you started, and you'd barely gained enough back after the War to begin with, not to mention that you've looked exhausted every time I've seen you..." Not knowing what else to do, he shrugged and studied his shoes, too embarrassed to look at her properly. "It isn't healthy, and I've been worried about you, is all. I didn't say anything because I didn't want you to think I didn't believe in you."
She nodded but said nothing. They were quiet for a few minutes. The wind picked up, swirling around them on the cold doorstep, and Harry took off his cloak and wrapped it around Hermione's shoulders. He had his Healer's robes on, after all, while she had only the white t-shirt and deep purple jogging pants that made up her training uniform. His cloak turned out to be more than large enough to wrap around her small body, proving his point about her weight loss. They had both been left badly underweight at the end of the War, months of constant stress and minimal food taking their toll, and she had only just reached a healthy weight for someone her age—primarily thanks to Molly—when the rigours of Auror training had taken off half of what she had regained. The thought of the continuous duelling and strenuous physical training she had to endure when she was barely clinging to her health alarmed Harry, particularly since he had started his own training as a Healer.
"Thanks," she murmured, pulling the cloak around herself.
"Anytime." After a moment, he could not stand the silence any longer. "'Mione?"
"Hm?"
"I'm sorry, you know, if I said something stupid just now. I didn't really know what to say."
She shook her head.
"You didn't say anything stupid, Harry. You've actually made a good point."
"Have I?" he asked, relieved.
She nodded.
"You weren't wrong. About how I've felt the last few months, I mean." She tucked her hair behind one ear. "I'm ashamed of what I've done, and I imagine it'll take me a while to come to terms with it, but... Well, maybe it's better this way. I haven't been doing well lately. Physically or emotionally, not that you want to talk about my feelings," she said, managing a wan grin.
"I would if it would help you feel better," he offered, a little desperately.
"It's all right." She reached out and twined her fingers with his. "I won't put you through that, at least not right now. I just... I just need to think about what's next. I need to figure out what I'm going to do." She shivered despite the cloak. "I've got a little money saved up, but it won't be enough to keep my room at the Cauldron for much longer. I suppose I'll have to move back in with my mum and dad, and won't that be fun? They mean well, but they don't understand why I won't go to university and get a proper education. This will just throw fuel on that fire."
Harry frowned. Hermione was beating herself up enough as it was. The last thing she needed was anyone making her feel guiltier about what she had done, even if it came from good intentions.
"Stay with me," he blurted as the thought occurred to him. She looked at him quizzically.
"Sorry?"
"Stay with me," he repeated as he worked it out in his head. "The house isn't huge, but it's more than big enough for two people, and I could really use your help getting it set up," he said with a nod at the front door behind them. "You're better at magic than I am—you are," he insisted when she opened her mouth. "Things would go a lot faster with you around, and you would have somewhere to stay until you're back on your feet. It would be good for both of us, wouldn't it?"
She considered that for a moment.
"It wouldn't make you uncomfortable," she finally asked, "living with a girl?"
He shrugged.
"It's not like we haven't lived together before, and that was in a tent." His lips quirked. "You've already seen me in my pyjamas. I don't expect there's much else to be uncomfortable about. What about you? Would it bother you to live with a boy?"
She shook her head.
"You've already seen me in my pyjamas, too," she said with a slight grin. "I suppose you're right: we managed to live in a tent for several weeks without killing each other. I'm sure we could manage to get along in a house."
"So that's settled, then," he said. "You can stop worrying."
"Thanks, Harry," she murmured, giving his hand a firm squeeze. "Really. I swear I'll make it up to you someday."
He returned the pressure on her hand.
"'Mione, I owe you my life several times over," he pointed out softly. "The least I can do is keep a roof over your head and make sure you have enough to eat. Speaking of which," he added before she could say anything else, "you're cold, and it's well past supper time now. Let's get you home and see if Tom can find you some of his famous pea soup, hm?" He felt heartened when her lips quirked into a tentative grin. "Hm?"
Finally, she chuckled softly. A wave of tension that Harry had not even noticed flowed out of his body, leaving him relieved. Somehow, he had managed to help.
"All right," she agreed. "But I'm not eating any of that soup until you do."
He smiled as he helped her up from the steps.
"Fine, if it doesn't eat me first."
She laughed as they set off for the plump evergreens in the distance.