Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

June

Bill stirred as footsteps disturbed the quiet of the hospital wing. Through a haze of pain, his eyelids fluttered open, settling on a familiar figure sitting beside his bed.

Harry.

The teen was perched awkwardly on a chair, his hands clasped so tightly together his knuckles had turned white.

"...Harry?"

Harry looked up immediately, glasses falling slightly down the bridge of his nose.

"Oh. You're awake."

Bill managed a tired smile.

"I suppose I am." His voice felt rough, as though he hadn't spoken in days. "What happened?"

Harry hesitated.

"I’m not sure you’ll want to hear this from me.”

"Did something happen to Fleur or my Mum?" Bill shifted slightly before wincing.

Harry stared at the floor as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, and for several long moments, neither of them spoke.

Finally, Harry whispered, "They were all here about an hour ago, but I managed to convince them to leave and get some rest. But..."

Bill's heart sank.

"But?"

"Fleur..." Harry hesitated. "When she saw your face..."

Suddenly, it felt as though every newly acquired scar across Bill's body had come alive, each one burning beneath his skin.

"What did she say?"

Harry looked almost guilty at having to repeat it.

"She... called you a monster."

Silence settled over the room.

Bill closed his eyes for a brief moment. He'd prepared himself for many things after Greyback's attack, but losing Fleur… was not one of them.

When he opened them again, Harry was watching him with unmistakable sympathy.

Bill forced a small smile.

"Tell me honestly, Harry."

Harry frowned.

"Do I look like a monster?"

The answer came so quickly Bill barely had time to blink.

"No."

Bill searched his face.

"No?"

Harry shook his head.

"You look..." He flushed slightly, embarrassed by his own words. "You look really cool."

Bill laughed despite himself, the sound catching painfully in his chest.

"Really cool?"

Harry nodded.

"Yeah."

A small smile tugged at his lips.

"Like you fought a dragon or something."

Bill couldn't help laughing again.

The sound echoed softly through the empty ward.

As he looked at Harry again, really looked at him, he noticed something about his baby brother’s best friend he'd thought about before.

Harry's eyes were so... pretty.

Bright, impossibly green, full of warmth and compassion.

Bill was mesmerised by their sheen.

July

Harry slipped quietly upstairs, unnoticed amongst the chaos of the Order preparing for the night's mission. Every laugh, every shouted instruction, every clink of dragon-hide gloves only made the tightness in his chest worse, like a noose around his neck.

He ducked into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

His breathing became ragged as he gripped the edge of the sink, his reflection blurring through tears he refused to let fall.

People were going to die tonight because of him.

Who would the wheel of fate take this time? He wondered.

Moody. Kingsley. Tonks. Remus. Arthur. Fred. George. Bill. Ron. Hermione.

Unable to deal with any of those possible outcomes, Harry slid down the wall until he was sitting on the cold tiled floor, drawing his knees to his chest, willing the ground to swallow him whole.

A gentle knock sounded at the door, snapping Harry out of his spiral.

"Harry?"

Bill.

Harry didn't answer.

"I'm coming in."

The lock opened with a click, and Bill stepped inside before carefully shutting the door behind him.

He took one look at Harry and without a word, sat on the floor opposite him.

"Can't breathe?" The older man asked softly.

Harry gave the smallest nod.

"Alright." Bill's voice remained calm. "Just breathe with me."

Bill inhaled slowly.

Harry tried to copy him.

Again.

And again.

After several minutes, Harry's breathing finally began to steady.

"There you go," Bill murmured. "That's it."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered hoarsely.

"What for?"

"For... this."

Bill shook his head.

"You don’t need to apologise."

Harry met his eye then, tears shining behind his glasses.

"Cedric died because of me, Sirius too. My parents..." His voice cracked. "I keep hurting everyone around me.”

Bill was quiet for a long moment.

“That’s not true Harry, you’ve gone through so much,” Bill paused, adjusting himself, “way too much for a kid. When I was seventeen, I thought I knew everything just because I was Head Boy.”

Harry frowned.

"You probably did."

Bill barked out a laugh.

"Merlin, no."

Harry blinked.

"I was an idiot."

"You were Head Boy."

"I was still an idiot."

That earned the faintest smile from Harry.

"I made mistakes. Took risks. Thought I was invincible."

Bill's expression softened.

"You know the difference between you and I?"

Harry shook his head.

"I got to be seventeen. I got to worry about exams. About Quidditch. About whether Mum would send another howler because I'd forgotten to write. You've spent years fighting to stay alive.”

"I still got people killed."

"You didn't."

"I did."

Bill leaned forward, determination flashing in his eyes.

"You-Know-Who and the sick bastards who follow him are the only ones to blame. You’re just a kid who had this life thrust upon him.”

Harry's lip trembled.

"And despite all of that..." Bill smiled gently. "You're doing remarkably well."

"I don't feel like I am." Harry sighed.

"I know, but you are.”

Harry rubbed his eyes, his next words catching Bill completely off guard. "I'm sorry about Fleur."

Bill fought the urge to laugh.

"You really need to stop apologising."

"But she left because-"

"No."

Bill shook his head firmly.

"I've had a month to think on it.”

He rested his arms on his knees.

"Our relationship…” Bill smiled. “It wasn't as deep as I wanted to believe."

Harry listened quietly.

"You loved her."

"I cared about her."

Bill considered his words carefully.

"But if seeing a few scars was enough to make her leave..."

He shrugged.

"...then we were never meant to spend the rest of our lives together."

"I still feel awful." Harry mumbled.

"Don't."

Bill smiled warmly.

"You didn't ruin my life."

"No?"

Bill chuckled.

"If anything, you saved me from discovering her shallowness ten years down the line."

Harry couldn't help smiling.

Bill pushed himself to his feet and extended a hand. "Come on."

Harry stared at it as if it were cursed before finally reaching out, and being pulled to his feet effortlessly by Bill.

"You'll be with me tonight."

Harry frowned.

"I thought I was going to be with Hagrid?”

"Nah, we decided it's too obvious if you go with him. Besides, I wanna keep an eye on you." Bill threw him a playful wink. "Keeping cute boys like you out of trouble is part of my job."

Warmth rushed straight to Harry's cheeks.

"I... right."

Smirking at the obvious reaction he’d just provoked, Bill turned and opened the bathroom door.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Good."

Bill rested a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder as they stepped back into the corridor together, and Harry couldn’t help but lean into the eldest Weasley brother’s touch.

August

The peaceful nights of long ago were ancient history now at the Burrow. Every creak of the old house sent someone reaching for their wand, every owl at the window brought another piece of grim news, and every day Harry remained only deepened his guilt for putting his surrogate family in danger.

He couldn't stay.

He wouldn't let the Weasleys be destroyed because of him.

Weeks of whispered conversations with Ron and Hermione had finally solidified into a plan: they were leaving tonight for Grimmauld Place, which would serve as their base for their Horcrux hunt.

A gentle shake to his shoulder pulled him awake, and once Harry opened his eyes, the sight that greeted him was Hermione crouched beside his bed.

"It’s time," she whispered.

Ron stood anxiously in the doorway, his rucksack already slung over one shoulder.

Harry nodded and reached for his glasses.

The room was quiet as Harry dressed, the others politely turning away. Once he was fully clothed, Hermione helped him pack, using Shrinking Charms to squeeze every bit of space out of his bag. But just as she went to zip the rucksack closed, Harry remembered one final thing he had to do.

"I... I need to go downstairs. I'll be back."

Neither of them questioned his decision, and without further ado, he made his way downstairs, hoping against hope that Bill was still awake. A faint sliver of moonlight escaped from beneath the sitting room door, bringing a small smile to Harry's face - if Bill had gone to sleep, the curtains would have been drawn. He reasoned.

Harry knocked once before stepping inside. As predicted, Bill was sitting in his favourite plaid armchair beside the unlit fireplace, an book resting in his lap.

"I was wondering when you'd come." Bill said, picking up the book and setting it aside.

Harry froze.

"You knew?"

"I knew you were up to something - you've been disappearing into the orchards with Ron and Hermione ever since you arrived. Whispering whenever anyone else came near you." He folded his arms. "You're not exactly subtle."

Harry looked sheepish.

"I didn't want anyone else involved."

"I know."

"They've done enough already."

Bill studied him for a long moment.

"You're leaving tonight."

Harry nodded.

"We're going to Grimmauld Place."

Bill didn't seem surprised.

"I thought as much."

Silence settled between them.

"I came to say goodbye."

Bill's expression softened.

"You really thought I'd let you do that?"

Harry frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Bill stood up, and crossed the room until only a few feet separated them.

"I'm coming with you."

Harry shook his head on instinct.

"No - it's too dangerous."

Bill laughed quietly.

"Harry."

"I mean it. You've already been hurt because of me."

"I want to be by your side, even if it means I get hurt again.”

Harry shook his head again.

"I can't ask you to."

"Good, because you aren't asking."

Harry opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, but Bill cut him off.

"I need to do this."

His voice was quiet but unwavering.

"I've spent the last two months watching you carry the weight of this war on your shoulders."

He stepped closer.

"You shouldn't have to do it alone."

Harry's throat tightened.

"If something happened to you because of me-"

Bill reached out and gently cupped Harry's cheek.

"Then it would be my choice."

"I've wanted to do that since the hospital wing."

"I noticed."

Harry's cheeks immediately flushed scarlet.

"You... you noticed?"

"Like I said, subtlety isn't your strong suit."

Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Oh, brilliant."

Bill chuckled, gently catching Harry's wrists to pull his hands away.

"I like your earnestness - it's cute."

Before Harry could snap back that he wasn't cute, thank you very much, a floorboard creaked behind them. In an instant, Bill spun to shield Harry with his body, wand already drawn.

It wasn't a swarm of Death Eaters like his older brother's instincts had conjured, but Ron, looking sheepish as he hovered in the doorway.

"...Am I interrupting?"

Harry practically leapt out from behind Bill, instantly putting a solid two feet of distance between them.

"No!"

Bill, by contrast, remained perfectly calm.

"Excellent timing."

Ron blinked.

"I've seen stranger things."

Hermione appeared behind him.

"We really have to-"

She stopped mid-sentence.

"Oh."

Harry wished he had his invisibility cloak on hand, so he could vanish into thin air. Bill, on the other hand, paid no mind to the awkward moment, simply reaching down to pick up the rucksack resting beside his chair.

"Right then." He said, slinging the pack over his shoulders. "Let's go to Grimmauld Place."

Harry stared.

"You packed?"

"I told you." Bill grinned, stealing another kiss from Harry. "I'm coming with you."

September

The world spun violently before Harry crashed onto wet grass.

For one blissful second, he thought they'd made it.

Then Ron screamed.

It was a raw, agonizing sound that cut straight through the thoughts in his head. Blood poured freely from Ron's side, soaking his jumper and dripping into the grass beneath him.

Hermione let out a horrified gasp.

"Ron!"

She was beside him in an instant, trying desperately to stem the bleeding with trembling hands.

Harry's stomach lurched.

"What happened?"

"He was splinched," Hermione cried, her voice cracking. "When I tried to apparate away-"

Ron cried out again, his face ghostly pale.

"We have to do something!"

Harry looked wildly around the woodland.

"We can't stay here."

"We can't go back to Grimmauld Place!" Hermione cried, panic bleeding into her voice. "Yaxley grabbed hold of me as we Disapparated - it's been compromised!"

With Ron bleeding out, Hermione unravelling, and Harry shutting down, Bill took charge as the eldest.

"We're going to Shell Cottage."

Harry looked at him.

"What?"

"It's already under a Fidelius charm."

"Will it hold?"

"Yes, and I can set up plenty of other wards to reinforce it."

Without another word, Bill crouched beside Ron.

"I'm sorry about this," he murmured.

He wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders while Hermione clung tightly to them. Harry grabbed Bill's free arm, and the world twisted again.

They landed hard on a windswept beach.

The roar of the sea filled the air, but Bill paid it no mind, already beginning to carry his brother inside the small cottage.

"Come on, time is of the essence!"

Hermione and Harry obliged, and the moment Bill set Ron carefully on the sofa, all three of them began frantically searching the room.

"Dittany," Bill muttered, rummaging through cabinets. "Where is it..."

Finding the small green bottle, he hurried back to the sofa. "Move."

Hermione stepped aside instantly.

Bill pulled Ron's jumper up and carefully poured a few drops of the essence over the ragged wound.

The bleeding slowed then stopped almost immediately.

Fresh skin began itself knitting together, though Ron still groaned in pain.

"It'll heal," Bill said quietly. "But it might leave a small scar."

Ron gave the weakest nod imaginable.

Bill reached for another bottle.

"Sleeping Draught."

Hermione gently lifted Ron's head as Bill tipped the potion between his lips.

Within moments, Ron's breathing evened out, his body slumped over in sleep.

Hermione brushed damp hair from Ron's forehead.

"I'm staying here."

Bill nodded.

"I'll make up one of the spare rooms for you."

She didn't answer, simply knitting her fingers between Ron’s.

Harry quietly backed out of the kitchen, the cool sea air hitting him as he stepped outside.

He didn't even realise he'd started crying until he felt someone drape a blanket around his shoulders.

Bill.

Neither of them spoke.

Bill simply sat beside him on the sand.

After a long moment, he opened one arm. Harry didn't hesitate, burying his face against Bill's shoulder as if every ounce of strength he had been clinging to suddenly evaporated.

"I thought..." he whispered.

Bill rested his chin gently atop Harry's head.

"I thought he was going to die."

"I know."

Another wave crashed against the shore.

Bill held him a little tighter.

"It's going to be okay."

Harry was silent for so long that Bill wondered whether he'd fallen asleep.

Then, barely louder than the wind, Harry whispered.

"When?"

Bill frowned.

Harry's voice was so small it scarcely sounded like him.

"When will it be okay?”

The question shattered something inside Bill - not because he didn't know the answer, but because Harry genuinely believed there might not be a life for him after this nightmare.

Bill closed his eyes. "I don't know," he admitted quietly.

Harry's shoulders sagged.

"But I know this." Bill gently lifted Harry's chin until their eyes met. "I’m not letting you go, Harry." He brushed a thumb across his tear-stained cheek. "No matter what happens."

Harry broke then, tears spilling freely as he buried his face deeper against Bill, clinging to him like a lifeline. Bill held him close, rocking them slowly back and forth until Harry finally fell asleep in his arms.

October

"No!"

Harry lurched upright before he was fully awake, his heart pounding so violently he thought it might shatter his ribs.

Green light.

His mother's scream.

His father's voice.

"Lily, take Harry and go!"

He could still hear it.

Still see it.

Still feel the cold laughter echoing through the ruined cottage.

His breathing became ragged as he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

"It's my fault..."

Beside him, Bill stirred.

"Harry?"

Harry didn't answer.

"I killed them."

Bill was awake instantly.

He sat up and reached for Harry, only to pause for the briefest moment.

"Can I?"

Harry gave the smallest nod.

Bill wrapped both arms around him, pulling him gently against his chest.

Harry resisted for all of two seconds before collapsing into the embrace.

His entire body trembled.

Bill rested his cheek against Harry's messy hair.

"It was just a nightmare."

"I know, but it... it felt like I was there.”

Harry's voice cracked.

Outside, dawn was just beginning to brighten the windows of Shell Cottage, painting the bedroom in pale shades of blue and gold.

Harry stared at the floor.

"They died because of me."

Bill frowned.

"No."

"If I hadn't been born-"

"No."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut.

"I’ve been hurting people my entire life, why am I so destructive?"

Bill gently took Harry's face in both hands.

"You were a baby - you couldn't even walk or talk. And you certainly didn’t ask your parents to defy You-Know-Who. They did it because they loved you, and they would have done it a thousand times over."

A tear slipped down Harry's cheek.

"I don't remember them."

Bill brushed it away with his thumb.

"You don't have to remember them to know they loved you."

Harry let out a broken sob.

Bill pulled him close again, one hand slowly rubbing soothing circles across his back.

Eventually, Harry whispered so quietly, Bill almost missed it:

"I'm so tired."

"I know."

"I don't know how much longer I can do this."

"You’ll never be alone, Harry. I..." Bill hesitated, buying time by kissing the top of Harry's head. The words had been sitting on the tip of his tongue for weeks - maybe even months - and in an instant, he realised he didn't want to hold them back any longer.

"I love you."

Harry froze.

Bill's heart lurched.

Perhaps he'd said it too soon.

Perhaps-

"I love you too."

Harry looked up, cheeks pink despite the tears still clinging to his eyelashes.

"I think..."

He laughed nervously.

"I think I've loved you since that night at Privet Drive."

Bill couldn't help smiling.

"Really?"

Harry nodded.

"You were the first person who looked at me like..."

He searched for the words.

"...like I was just Harry."

Bill cupped his face once more.

"That's because you are."

He kissed Harry softly.

"Just Harry, and you don't need to be anyone else around me."

There was no urgency to their touches, only warmth. When they parted, Harry let out a long, exhausted sigh - a clear sign he needed more sleep.

Bill pulled the blankets up around them both to encourage it.

"Try and sleep again, sleepyhead."

Harry nodded, though hesitation tinged his expression. "What if I have another nightmare?"

Bill smiled softly. "Then I'll be here to comfort you again."

Harry curled closer, his hand finding Bill's beneath the covers. Within minutes, his breathing slowed, falling fast asleep just as the first rays of sunlight spilled across the room.

November

Bill woke to the unmistakable smell of something burning.

He frowned.

That couldn't be right.

Shell Cottage was many things, but on fire wasn't usually one of them.

Bill climbed out of bed, pulling on a hoodie belonging to muggle band he liked, and followed the smell downstairs.

As he reached the kitchen, he stopped.

Harry stood at the stove, wearing an old apron his Dad had bought at a muggle carboot sale, which read:

KISS THE COOK.

Bill had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

Harry turned around.

"Oh. You're awake."

"I sincerely hope so."

Harry looked down at the frying pan.

"So..."

"So?"

"I might have slightly overestimated my cooking abilities."

Bill looked at the blackened remains of what might once have been bacon.

"Slightly?"

"I do know how to cook."

Bill raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

Harry winced.

"...Well, once I started at Hogwarts, my culinary skills went from cooking full English breakfasts for the Dursleys to microwaving pot noodles when my aunt refused to feed me."

A flare of anger erupted in Bill at the mention of the mistreatment Harry had faced, but Harry instinctively folded his arms, misinterpreting the sudden shift in mood and assuming the ire was directed at him.

"It's your birthday and I wanted to make you breakfast." Harry said demurely, hanging his head in shame. "Please ignore... whatever happened over there."

Bill looked over, his anger momentarily forgotten, but definitely filed away for another time.

One plate contained toast that was somehow both burnt and undercooked.

The eggs looked surprisingly edible.

There was tea.

And in the middle of the table sat a small chocolate cake with slightly lopsided icing.

It read:

HAPY BDAY BIL

Harry followed his gaze.

"...I ran out of room."

Bill laughed so hard he had to lean against the doorway.

Harry tried very hard to look offended.

"You are remarkably ungrateful."

"I'm sure it tastes nice!"

"You haven't even tried it yet..." Harry sighed dramatically. "I'm never cooking again."

Bill wandered over, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist from behind.

"But who’s going to cook when I’ve impregnated you with our ten ginger children?"

Harry leaned back against him, nudging him lightly with his elbow. "I hate you."

Bill rested his chin on Harry's shoulder. "No, you don't."

"No..." Harry smiled despite himself. "...I don't."

Bill turned him gently until they were face to face. "You did all this?"

Harry shrugged. "I wanted today to be nice."

"It already is."

"I know things have been a bit..." Harry tried to make a sweeping gesture to sum up the chaos of an entire war. "...different. But I wanted today to be different."

Before Harry could say anything else, Bill leaned down and kissed him.

When they parted, Harry blinked.

"What was that for?"

"My breakfast - I'm thanking you in advance."

Harry looked down at the apron.

"...The apron did say to kiss the cook."

"It did."

"I suppose you're just following instructions."

"I'm nothing if not obedient."

Harry barked out a laugh.

"You?"

"What? I can be." Bill smiled innocently. "Occasionally."

Harry shook his head.

"I don't believe you for a second."

"You wound me."

"I think you're pushing thirty and your mother still tells you off."

Bill gasped theatrically.

"Low blow."

"It's true."

"You know what..." Bill narrowed his eyes.

"What?"

"What happens to disobedient boys like you?"

Harry paled.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh I absolutely would."

"Bill."

"Prepare to get tickled."

Harry bolted.

Bill chased him around the kitchen as laughter echoed through the cottage.

"You cheat!" Harry shouted as Bill cut him off by Apparating three feet across the room.

"It's called thinking outside of the box."

"That's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair."

Harry squealed as Bill caught him around the waist, lifting him clean off the floor.

"Bill!"

"I've got you."

"You absolute menace-"

Harry dissolved into helpless laughter as Bill spun him around before setting him back on his feet.

Both of them were still laughing when the front door opened.

Ron and Hermione walked inside, windswept from their walk along the beach.

Ron's eyes darted around the kitchen taking in the scene: the smell of burnt bacon, the suspiciously lopsided cake on the counter, Harry tied into a flour-dusted apron, and his brother wrapped around his best friend in a unmistakably romantic embrace.

"...Should we come back later?" Ron squeaked out.

Instead of paying any mind to the gayness unfolding in front of her, Hermione instead commented on the cake.

"...Is it just me or is every word spelt incorrectly?"

Harry buried his face in one of Bill's broad shoulders to hide his burning embarrassment. Taking full advantage of the lapse in concentration, Ron reached over, snagged the piece of toast meant for Bill, and took a huge bite.

"...Merlin."

Harry spun around, a hopeful sparkle in his eyes.

"Good?"

Ron's face scrunched up.

"Even I wouldn’t eat that.”

Bill laughed so hard he nearly doubled over, and despite being nearly ten years his junior, Hermione approached the situation far more maturely/

"Oh, honestly."

She corrected Harry's dismal attempt at cooking with a swift flick of her wand - unburning the toast and bacon, then stripping away the messy icing to replace it with neatly spaced, perfect letters.

Harry watched in amazement.

"...You could've shown me that spell yesterday."

"You said you wanted to cook without magic."

"I did."

"So, I let you."

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"You set me up."

Hermione smiled sweetly.

"Maybe a little."

Bill slipped his hand into Harry's beneath the table as they finally got around to eating the salvaged breakfast and the once-lopsided cake. Ron chewed happily, while Hermione kept reminding him not to eat with his mouth open.

Despite the war waiting just outside the door, Bill couldn't remember ever having a happier birthday. He realised he didn't need anything grand - unlike Fleur, who insisted they needed the latest fashions or magical objects from her endless stack of magazines. All he needed to be happy was right here in this room, more specifically, the boy pressed close against his side.

December

Snow drifted silently through the churchyard.

Godric's Hollow looked like a Christmas card, the ancient gravestones dusted in white beneath the pale afternoon sky.

Harry stood motionless before the simple marble headstone, which read:

JAMES POTTER & LILY POTTER

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death

Bill remained a respectful distance away, hands buried in the pockets of his coat. He hadn't said a word since they'd entered the churchyard. Harry was grateful for that.

He didn't know how long he stood there.

Minutes.

Maybe longer.

"I don't know what to say," Harry whispered eventually.

Bill stepped closer, his boots crunching softly through the snow.

"They'd understand."

Harry stared at their names.

"I wish I knew what they'd think of me."

Bill smiled sadly.

"I think they already did."

Harry frowned.

"They died believing you were worth everything."

His throat tightened.

"I don't know if I am."

Bill turned him gently.

"Harry."

"They gave their lives for me."

"And they'd do it again."

"That's what scares me."

Bill's expression softened.

"Why?"

"Because..."

Harry looked back at the grave.

"...what if it wasn't worth it?"

Bill opened his mouth to protest, but words poured out of Harry as though he were a Seer having a vision.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I know you probably spent every daydreaming about watching me grow up and teaching me things and embarrassing me and telling me off and celebrating birthdays and Christmases and seeing me go to Hogwarts and graduate and maybe have a family of my own, and instead you got You-Know-Who knocking at your front door because of me. Because of a prophecy I never asked for. I keep thinking that if I had never existed you'd still be alive, you'd have had a life together, Sirius would've had his best friends, Remus wouldn't have lost everyone, and I wouldn't have spent my whole life wondering what it would've felt like just to have someone tuck me into bed or tell me they were proud of me."

His breath hitched.

"I don't even know if you'd like the person I've become."

His voice broke completely.

"I've made so many mistakes. People keep getting hurt because of me and I keep wondering if maybe that's all I am. Maybe I'm just... someone people die for."

The tears came freely now.

"Every birthday I wonder what presents you'd have given me, every Christmas I wonder if you, Mum." He clarified, taking a breath before continuing. "Would've knitted me an jumper with my initial on it, like Mrs Weasley does, because I think I'd wear it every single day if you had you made it, and I wonder if Dad would've taught me Quidditch properly instead of me figuring it out on my own, and I wonder what your hugs would feel like because I don't remember them and I hate that I don't remember."

He sank to his knees in the snow, his voice barely audible."

"I'm trying. "I'm trying so hard."

He bowed his head.

"I hope... wherever you are... that you're not disappointed in me."

Silence settled over the churchyard.

Only the wind disturbed it, along with the falling snow.

Bill gathered Harry gently into his arms, not telling him to stop crying or to be strong in the moment.

Harry clung to him like a drowning man, and Bill's protective hold on him tightened, one hand cradling the back of Harry's head as he sobbed.

"They would never be disappointed in you."

Harry shook his head.

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"How?"

Bill smiled through tears of his own.

"Because I’ve seen you throw yourself into danger to save people." He gently brushed damp hair away from Harry's forehead. "Heck, you’ve gone and saved half my family - Ginny, Dad, Ron."

Bill rested his forehead against Harry’s and wrapped his boyfriend’s smaller hands between his own larger ones, warming them gently. "I've watched you choose kindness when the world has given you every reason to be bitter."

"You asked me once when everything was going to be okay."

Harry nodded faintly.

"I still don't know." Bill squeezed his hands. "But I know this." He added softly. "We are going to figure this out together, and I am never - never - going to leave your side. One day, we’ll have a family of our own filled with so much love that everything is going to feel okay again."

Above them, snow continued to fall, settling softly across the grave. When Harry finally stood again, he looked once more at the names carved into the stone.

This time, he managed a small smile. "Merry Christmas," he whispered, nodding at Bill, who hoisted them both back up to their feet.

Together, they turned and walked slowly out of the churchyard, leaving only two sets of footprints behind in the untouched snow.