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“...Can’t believe you actually got drunk.”
It was nearly one in the morning. Most people staying in Grimmauld Place had already retreated to their rooms and fallen asleep, with the exception of five people. Remus was awake in the kitchen, caring for an intoxicated Sirius who had drank himself unintelligible. Remus had sent the other three to bed, with the promise that he would eventually be in to check on Harry.
It was Ron and Hermione, then, who were given the responsibility of carrying Harry upstairs to his and Ron’s shared room. Ron had put Harry’s arm over his shoulder to keep him upright and Hermione, who didn’t have the same strength, tried to keep the both of them from losing their balance by placing one hand at Harry’s back and the other at his stomach. They could tell that Harry was trying to lessen the burden and stay on his feet, but entirely uncoordinated, he was unsuccessful.
Apparently worried if he could keep his drink down, there was a long pause before Harry was able to respond. “I didn’t want him to drink alone... He’s dealing with enough...”
Hermione shook her head. “It’s Sirius’s job to take care of you, not the other way around.” She tutted. “And underage, too!”
“He doesn’t want to hear it, Hermione. C’mon, let’s just get him to bed.”
They reached the landing with their shared room and stumbled inside. In Harry’s condition, the pair figured it unwise to keep him standing longer than was necessary, so they opted to ready him for bed by just removing what might make him uncomfortable, rather than changing him into pajamas. In any case, it would be difficult for Ron to dress him without someone holding him up. So, instead, Ron reached around and unbuckled Harry’s belt as Hermione worked his flannel off him.
When they were done, Ron helped Harry lay down on his bed, handing the belt to Hermione. Before they could remove his glasses, Harry had already rolled over to face the wall. After placing Harry’s belt and flannel neatly by his trunk, Hermione stood by the doorway, turning to Ron.
“I have to get to bed... You’ll watch him, won’t you? In case he gets sick?”
Clearly worried, she fidgeted with the sleeve of her cardigan. Ron rolled his eyes.
“’Course I will. D’you think I’ll just let him choke on his puke or something? I’ll be here.”
This seemed to appease her. “Alright. Goodnight.”
“No...”
Ron and Hermione turned. It was said so quietly, so softly, that they could have missed it had the house been more alive with activity.
“Stay... till I fall asleep...”
Hermione fidgeted again with the sleeve and shifted her feet, almost guiltily. “But... Mrs. Weasley...”
Ron thought for a moment. After a small pause he sat on Harry’s bed. “It probably won’t be long before he passes out. If she finds us and asks I’ll just have Sirius explain. It’s his fault Harry’s like this.”
“...Fine,” Hermione sighed, walking over and perching herself on the end of the bed. Harry seemed to relax a little. “Thanks...”
“Do you think he’ll be hung over in the morning?” Hermione asked Ron, looking between him and Harry. Ron laughed a little, humorlessly. “Oh, yeah, for sure. I’ve seen Bill and Charlie hung over before-- he’ll probably be a right pain to deal with.”
“He’ll be okay, though?” Her voice was constricted with worry. Her hands had travelled from her sleeve to the ends of her bushy hair. “My parents don’t drink much. I don’t have a lot of experience with this.”
“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, I’ll be here. Lupin said he’ll be in soon, and Sirius’ll want to check on him in the morning when he’s sobered up.”
They were quiet for a moment. Both their gazes fixed on Harry as they sat in silence. These days Harry was always so quick to fly off the handle—to yell and fight, to jump into defensive mode before he had properly registered who was a threat and who was not. Of course, Harry had always been a little jumpy, but he had also been quiet and easy-going. It was difficult to see just how much his time in the graveyard had changed him. They wondered, too, if it was the time in the graveyard or the time after, where he had been shipped off to his relatives’ with little word from anyone but themselves and Sirius—empty promises and isolation. And now Harry couldn’t even find peace in sleep, where nightmares follow him and, lately, terrifying visions wake him in the dead of night, screaming and thrashing.
Seeing him like this, though, completely inebriated, was something different altogether. It’s the kind of escape they hear about other people using, but that they always think couldn’t apply to someone they know—at least not someone so close, to someone for whom it was so out of character. They hoped, secretly, that this first time would be the last.
Lost in their brooding, they jumped when Harry moved—he'd been so still—and mumbled something they couldn’t quite catch.
“...What was that, mate?”
Harry turned to lay on his back, gazing back at them blearily, face flushed with drink. “I’ll be happy for you two...” He muttered, words slurred.
“Happy for us?” Hermione asked. She tilted her head questioningly.
“When you get together. And leave me alone. I’ll be happy for you.”
“What?” Ron gasped, taken aback. He recoiled a little and looked wildly between Harry and Hermione.
“I’ve known since last year... after the Yule Ball... But I’ve always had a feeling, I guess...” Harry blinked slowly, cat-like, before raising a hand to his forehead as though dizzy.
“Known... that we’ll get together? What are you talking about?”
“You two will start dating, and snogging, and get married, and have a lot of kids, or something... And you’ll leave me behind, ‘cause I’ll only get in the way. But I swear I’ll be happy.. ‘long as you are...” He didn’t look happy, though. In fact, they thought he looked close to tears. He shifted his arm to cover his eyes, blocking Ron and Hermione from his sight. “S’all I want.”
“...We aren’t getting together, Harry. And you’ll never “get in the way.” You’re not talking sensibly. Now, turn over, so you can get to sleep.” Nudging his arm away from his face, Hermione removed his glasses, wiping them and folding them on his nightstand.
“We aren’t leaving you behind. We told you years ago that we’d stay with you. That hasn’t changed. And if it hasn’t yet, it won’t in the future.” Ron laughed. “You’re stuck with us, mate.”
“I’m just happy I got to be with you...” Apparently Harry wasn’t listening. He turned on his side, this time facing his friends, and reached out to grab the sleeve of Ron’s jacket before his eyes fluttered closed and his breathing slowed. Ron looked up at Hermione, who was still standing next to the nightstand.
“You ought to sleep, yourself. I’ve got him.”
“Yeah... It’s just... I can’t believe he’d think that. About us. And that we’d just abandon him.”
“Well. I don’t think we should mention it when he wakes up. He won’t remember it. Let’s just keep it between us.”
Ron had a better sense than Hermione for how to maintain Harry’s pride, but even she figured this would be something Harry never would have wanted them to hear him say. Better to pretend it hadn’t happened, to spare Harry the embarrassment of knowing they had seen him like this.
“Of course. Well... good night.”
“Night, ‘Mione.”
But they both knew neither of them would sleep that night.