Chapter Text
It was finally over.
Harry was perched on the broken ledge of the bridge, his legs dangling over the long drop; from his spot, the bottom of the bridge seemed like a void that was going to swallow everything up.
He stared down at it, and considered it for a second.
The war was done and his mission was finished, and all he had gained was a new scar.
It came from his hairline, through his old scar and down through his eye, slithering towards his jaw in wild white strokes. Unlike the previous mark, this one was impossible to hide.
His face was fully marred now. Marked by death.
It was somewhat poetic. He had been used, till he broke and now he could be discarded. Like a broken toy.
Laughter tore from his chest, and made his body shake with it.
“Pup?”
The laughter quieted down till it was no more than a shuddering giggle and he whipped his head to face Sirius.
The look on his face, the raw concern, made the chuckle die in his lips.
“Are you okay?”
He looked down at the nothingness and sighed, as Sirius settled next to him. “Sure.”
They stayed in silence for a long time, as they stared beneath the bridge.
“So,” Harry started, grabbing a little rock and throwing it off of the bridge. They didn't even hear it crash.
“... So?”
Harry chuckles again.
“What now?”
Sirius didn't answer for a long time. He just looked at Harry, his eyes seemed to be fixated on the scar; tracing the violent path of the killing curse.
While he didn’t know why he looked so sad, Harry couldn’t bring himself to ask what he saw. Or who he saw.
They sat together, one next to the other, looking at the sky as it changed colors with the evening twilight.
The next days blurred together. Harry didn't stop, he couldn't stop. He kept moving around the castle and the grounds working with the wixen to fix the destruction.
The first thing they did (after tending to the injured) was picking up the dead.
They had to bury the fallen before it was too late.
He was staring at the plans laid over the stone and asked, “how long do we have till they start to smell?” for it was important to know the limits to burying them with their proper tombstones.
It was a valid question, but when a nearby wizard began sobbing, Harry simply tapped out and went to fix doors instead.
He wasn't sure where his place was.
Everyone else had a task, a chore, a purpose. But they kept telling him the same thing:
Lay down.
Sleep a bit.
Have a meal.
But he couldn't do any of those things.
He had spent the last year running from Voldemort, and he fulfilled his duty of killing the bastard.
And now he is done.
Was he supposed to be gone too?
He was born to do this, and was meant to die doing it.
But he was still breathing and moving.
Unlike the castle grounds, the Forbidden Forest was as quiet as the bodies buried six feet under.
He walked to the clearing where he had faced death, and sank onto the cold dirt.
To the side he saw rubbish left by the Death Eaters.
He sighed and laid back on the forest floor. Small, sharp rocks dug into his back, but he was too spent to remove them.
A loud rustling almost made him bolt upright, but a quiet, insidious thought took root instead: Just let whatever is there take you out.
So, he did.
He closed his eyes, waiting for the creature to eat him alive.
“Harry.”
“Oh, shucks,” he muttered, the tension draining out of him. He slowly sat up as Sirius and Remus emerged from the trees.
They shared similar horrified looks, but Sirius' eyes widened as he knelt in front of him.
“What are you doing here?”
He wasn't sure where to start or what to say. I’m here because this is where I should have stayed.
But he couldn't say that.
Especially not when Sirius’ eyes were so full of concern.
He remained silent, lowering his eyes to the floor, then darting to the rubbish.
“Hey, why don't we go inside and find something to eat?”