Work Text:
One more light
Harry stood at the window of Ron’s room at the burrow. The place was eerily quiet – ha! George would love that joke…earily quiet. But not today. In fact, there was no sound from any of the Weasleys or their visitors right now. Everything was silent, frozen. Harry sighed and felt his throat quiver even then. Looking out over the Weasleys chaotic garden that he so infinitely preferred over Petunias well-ordered flower beds, he could make out the tables and many chairs that had been placed there. The garden looked so empty, waiting to be filled with people’s laughter and loud talking and the smells of delicious food drifting up to the window Harry was hiding behind. Just futile thoughts of a happier past, Harry scolded himself. He couldn’t hide any longer, not now, not today.
Today he would have to face his pain yet again, the loss that was tearing him apart despite the happy and frantic celebration the whole of England’s wizarding population was taking part in. They didn’t care. None of them cared. But not here. Here, the cost of it all was imminent. Here, they all cared. He cared. Fred, Remus, Tonks, Dobby…so many others. Gone.
It had all ended in one moment. So quickly, just a moment, that was all there was. A life shouldn’t be able to end just…so quickly. There should have been time to say goodbye, there should have been more time. He still couldn’t really grasp the fact that he would never see the twins joking around together again. Never hear Mrs. Weasley confuse their names again. Never get to see what they could have accomplished with their combined brilliance. Now George was merely a shell of the boy – no, Harry reminded himself, of the MAN – that he had grown into. It was as if a part of him had been ripped out and left him incomplete as if a light had flickered and gone out inside him. It broke his heart to see George like this, it broke his heart to see the whole family suffer so much, but most of all it broke his heart to see Mrs. Weasley cradle little Teddy in her arms as if letting go of him might crumble her already failing resolve to stay strong for her family. Andromeda had been sitting next to them for the whole morning, cooing to Teddy and occasionally gripping Mrs. Weasley’s hands tightly.
Two mothers united in grief over their dead children and the future they would have had. They seemed to give each other the strength they so desperately needed to get through that day. The day of the funeral. The day Harry had dreaded more than anything. He wished he could be strong like them, could give them words of hope and love to ease their pain, he wished he didn’t feel so guilty. In his head, he knew, KNEW that it wasn’t his fault. But in his heart, he simply could not shake the feeling that if he had never befriended Ron, his family might have been safe. Futile thoughts. Still - if he had simply forced Tonks and Remus to stay with their newborn son, with his now orphaned godson, that he might have been able to keep them safe too and to spare Teddy the hurt that lay ahead of him, that Harry knew only too well from experience. He would be angry, and he should be. None of this was fair.
Little Teddy – now he was one more light in dark times, one more abandoned soul that would find a loving family in the people surrounding him but would always be missing part of himself. Yet, even though Teddy’s parents wouldn’t see him grow up, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be there. Harry would make sure to keep their memory alive and to teach Teddy that his loved ones would never truly be gone if he just kept them in his heart. A small comfort, Harry knew all too well. Harry kept telling himself that it wasn’t his fault and that he couldn’t have saved everyone. Maybe he would actually start believing it someday. But until then, all he could offer them now was to be there by their side and share their grieve with them.
Harry straightened up and closed his eyes for a moment. It was time. He had to join them now, only his feet wouldn’t move. He willed his body to turn away from the window and towards the door that would lead him down to the people he loved. Something kept him rooted to the spot, maybe it was fear, maybe just the crushing weight of grief and guilt…and shame. Yes, he suddenly realised. He felt ashamed, so ashamed that for all of his pain and sadness, a small part of him actually felt relieved. It was all over now, everything he had feared and dreaded for years, over. Voldemort was dead. He was finally free to live his life as he wished, free of the weight of death. Only to have it placed on his shoulders once again, but this time in the form of terrible loss. How could he feel relieved when so many people, friends, family had had to die in order to achieve his freedom.
Harry didn’t think death would ever truly leave him. It was as much a part of him now as Fred had been of George ingrained in his very being. He didn’t know how to face the people that were no doubt waiting for him downstairs. Waiting for him to show them strength and to help them find a way through this terrible day. But how could he? He wasn’t strong, he was barely holding back his own tears, a heavy ball of tangled cries dreading to leave his throat if he tried to speak to someone. He was so lost himself, yet they looked to him for guidance. And he could not disappoint them again. This was the least he could do, he just had to find a way to drown it all out until he could be alone and out of sight. Then he would let himself go and then he could break down. But not today, not yet, not in front of them.
A soft knock at the already open door snapped him out of his thoughts. How long had he been up here? They must have been looking for him. He still didn’t turn around, his whole body tense, and his lips pressed together tightly. A few moments of silence, then he heard the sound of soft footsteps behind him and a second later, felt a heavy hand being placed on his left shoulder and another in his right hand. Ron’s grip on his shoulder grew tightened for a moment before relaxing again. Hermione squeezed his hand once and then stepped in front of him, his hand still clasped in hers. She looked at him for a moment and then at Ron.
“Harry…”
She paused, her voice cracking. Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath and tried again.
“We know. We get it. We’re barely holding on and I know nothing we do will help but we’re here and we’re not going anywhere. Ron and I need you now.”
At her words, Ron let go of Harry’s shoulder and took up the place beside Hermione, looking at Harry with reddened eyes. But there was still the stoic resolve in his gaze Harry knew so well by now.
“And you need us. We shouldn’t be alone, none of us. We’ll get through today together and then – together – we can start healing. I don’t know how and I don’t know how long it’s going to take but Harry. We will be okay. Just don’t try to do this on your own, all right? I couldn’t bear losing you too, I couldn’t…”
A sob escaped from her lips after all but she still didn’t let go of his hand. And strangely, that was all it took. Harry took a deep breath and finally, finally felt the tension leave his body. And his dam broke, he felt hot tears run down his cheeks and he felt an impulse to be close to them again. Tugging on Hermione's hand, he pulled her into a half embrace and opened his other arm as a sort of invitation to Ron who didn’t hesitate and stepped into it. They pressed their foreheads together, Harry and Ron bending their necks a little and Hermione balancing on her toes. She was crying in earnest now, heaving for air between sobs and that seemed to trigger Ron, too. Harry had only ever seen him cry like this the evening he had knelt beside the dead body of his brother. While Harry held them, shedding silent tears himself, he felt their pain as much as his own. It was overwhelming and yet an incredible relief to share in their mourning and be comforted by their closeness.
Harry didn’t know how long they stood there like this, all tangled up and holding each other when they heard a choked voice from the door.
“I just...” Ginny cleared her throat noisily sniffed a little.
“Mum sent me up to get you. It’s time, they want to start the service now. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to interru– “
She was cut off by Hermione, who had untangled herself from the two boys and had taken three steps to reach Ginny and took her into a tight embrace. She held onto Ginny for a few seconds, her arms around Ginny’s neck, and then let go, stepping back. A small smile formed on her lips.
“Don’t you dare end that sentence.”
And with a determined glance, she stretched her hand out towards Ron.
“Come on Ron, give them a little space. Don’t be too long you two.”
Ron, a little embarrassed for still half hugging Harry, let go and wiped his face with his sleeve.
“We got each other's backs, mate. Don’t you forget that a’right? Right…see you downstairs in a minute.”
He took Hermione’s outstretched hand and together the two of them disappeared down the flight of stairs. Ginny was still standing in the doorframe, red-rimmed eyes now dry and hard stare in her eyes. She took a deep breath as if in preparation for a long speech à la Mrs. Weasley and Harry wasn’t disappointed.
“I won’t allow you to hide or pull away from me. Not now and not ever again. I let you go once; I won’t make that mistake twice. Now give me a hug you idiot and then we’ll somehow get through this bloody day. And the next. And the next. Just don’t cut me out.”
“Please”, she added as an afterthought.
Harry still didn’t trust his voice and once again admired Ginny all the more for being able to be so strong. She had faced danger and death by his side and now they would face it again together, closer than ever. He hugged her then, trying to put all of his emotions into the embrace that he didn’t have the power to phrase in the right way. And like always, she seemed to understand him perfectly.
“We’ll be okay”, she whispered. “We’re not now, but we will be. Some day. Still a little broken. But we’ll hold each other together. We will.”
There were so much sincerity and conviction in her words that Harry couldn’t help but believe her. He couldn’t believe himself, but he could believe her. That was all he could ask for right now. So he simply nodded, his head next to hers, and then pulled away just enough to grasp for her hand. She held onto him with an iron grip, the only indication that the inner battle of her emotions raged just as strong as his own. He nodded again and as if he had given a secret signal, they started down the stairs to follow Ron and Hermione, down to where their family and friends would comfort them and each other, down to where they would mourn their loved ones together.
Towards a future that was finally waiting to be formed by them.