Chapter Text
The war is over.
Three kids stood side by side, their worn out clothes made them look older than they actually are. As the people rejoiced over the fall of the dark lord, they tuned out the world as they stared into the horizon.
The war is over.
Before the end, they huddled around their small fire in the middle of nowhere; laughing and talking and imagining a world where peace finally reigned over their world.
Just for that night, they chose to forget that their world was at war. And indulged their silly, innocent dreams, sharing it out loud in hopes of bringing it into existence.
Desperately.
Hopefully.
The war is over.
It has been days, but they still couldn’t shake off the feeling that they still had the duty to upkeep. Three grown up kids guided someone younger, someone older, and someone they once shared a classroom with.
They helped them shed tears, build their walls back up, and become stronger for the days to come.
At that time, they thought that was their duty.
At that time, they were just kids. But no one stepped up. So they thought they were exactly where they’re supposed to be.
The war is over.
Years, and more years had passed. But their dreams… remained dreams.
“We’re alright.”
“You deserve it more. We can handle ourselves.”
“Don’t worry, at least we’re not starving ourselves anymore.”
And then they laugh, like it’s not eating them up inside. Looks of concern would linger on them, but at the end, they would still turn their backs on the three kids.
As the door closes, they would try their hardest not to sigh.
But he couldn’t help it when his back hit the cushion of the couch. He misses his family, he misses his older brother even more in the silence of their shared house.
He misses the simple da—did they ever have that? Simple days. He realized bitterly later on.
Then she would sit by him, grabbing his hand into her own warm hands. She would whisper empty promises in the room. She knows it’s not real, they know it’s not real.
But if it’s something that could bring them comfort, they’d gladly fool themselves into believing it.
“It’s going to be over soon.”
But the war is already over?
The next generation will never know how it feels to have a constant target on their back for simply being alive. Magical or not.
They won’t know how it feels to see someone’s eyes dim out in the middle of a cemetery for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
They won’t know how it feels to be called a liar while fearing for tomorrow because the dark lord had risen once again.
Or being too paranoid that everyone is against him that he would blindly trust a spell from a mysterious potions book.
Or never truly growing up but still forced to because of a prophecy that existed before he could even say his first word.
And that he’s the only one who could save the world.
—As the adults continue to whisper in the shadows while he’s on the run, constantly feeling the guilt of dragging the people he loves into the mess he’s forced to clean after.
And watched them disappear one by one.
They won’t know.
They won’t understand.
They won’t—
Crash.
Gasp.
“They won’t know.” He mutters in the empty room, his face soaked with tears and snot and alcohol. Thank Merlin, “They won’t know.” He laughs bitterly.
He should be happy they won’t know. What else did he sacrifice his everything for, if not for a future like this?
His eyes slowly lifted up, the room was dark, but he could see the broken shards of the bottle he threw. He’s not in his right mind.
Never was.
But even more so, now that he’s alone.
It’s been decades, but his dreams remained dreams. No family to call his own, no children to call him ‘dad’, no wife to soothe his messy mind, no—nothing.
Now his friends are finally stepping out into the sun, while he remains in the shadows.
It’s been years.
Damn it, it’s been years.
The war is over.
He got off the couch, his bare feet met the piercing shards, but he was too numb to feel anything at all. Too drunk to register any coherent thought. Too broken to feel himself cracking even more.
With one last wave of his wand, wordlessly, he put an end to everything.
Is it really over?
They were one knock away.
It has been years, they felt they’re finally moving forward. In fact, they’re finally growing their family. After the ring, after the ceremony, they finally let their family tree grow its tiny branch.
“Harry, we have great news to tell you, mate!” He already imagined what he would say to the kid with round glasses.
Then the boy would smile back, “Sure, Ron, what is it?”
Yet they were one knock away.
So close, but it happened so fast.
“Well,” The bossy girl would cross her arms with a smirk. “How about you try and guess?”
The bespectacled boy would tilt his head in confusion, “I don’t know, ‘Mione. You became Hogwarts’ Headmistress?”
“No, silly!” She would grin.
With a burst of light, they exchanged frightened looks before they forced the door open.
They looked and looked, but their friend was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, they’re back in the forest. Their hearts beat faster like they were still being chased. And they felt a chill, like they were caught—helplessly pinned down on the ground, while their friend suffered under the Unforgivable Curse.
“You’re going to be a godfather, mate!” Suddenly they're older. Her hair is longer and now tamed, his face growing out the once stubble on his chin.
“What? Really?!” But the bespectacled boy remained small.
They would laugh at the dumb look on their friend. “Really!”
That friend would then shed happy tears for them, “I’m going to be a godfather!”
A letter lied on the floor innocently.
With trembling hands, Ron picked it up. In his head, he would repeat a prayer; let this be a nightmare.
He opened it, read it, and then he turned around to Hermione. His eyes are already shedding tears without him noticing. She could only expect the worst, and like her husband, she wished it was just a terrible nightmare.
Finally, they huddled together. Just like that night in the middle of nowhere. But with more people.
Kids giggling as they ran around the campfire. They would look at their children fondly.
But it’s not a nightmare.
And they lived happily ever after.
Harry is gone.
The war is over.
The war is not over.
Not for the three kids who carried the burden of ending it.
Grimmauld Place was filled with helpless cries that unsuspecting afternoon.
Harry Potter is gone.
And on the same day, the small branch of the Granger-Weasley family breaks.