Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry couldn’t breathe. That was all he knew right now, right here in this bathroom in the Kings Cross station, choking on his own tears. He tugged at the neck of his jumper and leaned forward, his forehead connecting unexpectedly with the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl. He should have known returning to Hogwarts was a bad idea with everything that had happened only months ago. There were times during the summer when all those deaths added up and hit him and he had collapsed, sobbing, alone on the floor of Grimmauld Place, but around anyone else, he stayed stony. Even with Ron and Hermione it wasn’t easy to open up. Hermione had tried to bring up mental health more than once, but it got awkward quick. Now the was another year left to go, supposedly to make up for last year, but hardly anything that had happened last year could be made up for. And for some reason, Harry had decided to return, and now he was going to die here. From a fucking panic attack.

“You alright in there, mate?”

The voice pulled Harry out of his head and he stopped choking as he slowed his breathing, absently scratching his forearm as he came back to his senses. “I’m fine, thanks.” he said, opening the door after another minute had passed, offering an uneasy smile to the concerned traveler, before making his way to the sink.

Harry obviously wasn't fine. His reflection stared back at him, sweaty, eyes red with dark rings underneath. His hair fell messily on his forehead, covering his infamous scar, and his glasses were smudged.  Harry freshened up, quickly throwing water on his face in an attempt to collect himself.

***

Harry felt strangely nervous as he walked towards platform 9 3/4, not dissimilar to what he had felt walking through this very barrier seven years ago, although the anticipation he had felt at the time was replaced with clawing anxiety. Harry screwed his eyes shut, force of habit, and crossed the wall.

From what Harry could see, the platform seemed normal. Tearful parents waving away their first years, older students laughing together as they reunited after the summer. Owls squawking in cages. Harry felt a pang in his heart when he noticed one of the owls across from him, a white one, perched atop suitcases on a cart. He abruptly turned his head, and started to walk in the other direction. It was loud, and the train was already in  the station, white steam billowing from its smokestacks.

Just then, someone launched themselves into Harry’s arms and gripped him tightly. Harry froze for a moment then relaxed when he saw the curly brown hair under his nose. He exhaled and wrapped his arms around Hermione, relaxing into the presence of one of the only people thar could make him feel at home right now. “You’re suffocating me.” Hermione said finally, her voice muffled by Harry’s sweater.

He pulled away, smiling at her. “How you been Mione? How’re your parents doing?”

The trio had seen each other a few times during the summer, but Ron had to care for his family as they all mourned Fred, and Hermione was still trying to reconnect with her parents. So, Harry had spent a lot of time alone in Grimmauld Place, drinking and crying more than he cared to admit.

Hermione smiled back, but her eyes were sad. “It’s hard,” she said, “to restore their whole memories, but we’ll get there. At least most of it.”

Harry nodded. “They’re getting better. It’ll work out,” he said, although he wasn’t sure, but it was okay because better was better than dead, wasn’t it?

***

As they walked through the train, Harry glanced into the cars, searching for any familiar faces. “Harry! Hermione!” Harry turned his head to look into one of the cars, where Neville had spoken cheerfully. He was sitting next to the door, smiling brightly, Luna next to him, and Ginny on the bench opposite them. Harry and Hermione walked in.

“How’ve you been?” Harry asked, sitting between Hermione and the window. As they spoke, he scanned the faces of his friends. They were the same people as they had always been, but something had changed. He saw it in the slightly more distant gaze in Luna’s eyes as she spoke about invisible creatures she had encountered during the summer. He saw it in the sharper lines of Neville’s face, the barely visible scar on his cheekbone. And he saw it in Ginny, in the solemnity of her eyes, the sadness in her smile as she greeted her friends.

Harry and Ginny hadn’t spoken about their relationship since before the end of the war. It had seemed irrelevant during battle, and it would have been selfish to bring up while they were mourning Fred and all the other souls who had succumbed to the Dark side. And besides, Harry didn’t know what to make of it anymore. He had wanted to be with her before, but after last year, he wasn’t sure anymore. He cared for Ginny, he really did. But maybe just not like that. So if he had held her while she cried over her dead brother, if he wiped away her tears and told her it would get better soon, even though it never got completely better, not really, then it wasn’t because he wanted her, but just because he loved her.

“Malfoy’s here?” Ginny said incredulously. Harry startled back to the present, glancing at the aisle just in time to see Draco Malfoy pass their car. He was with Parkinson and Zabini, walking head bowed through the train, seemingly ignoring the blatant stares from other students. He hadn't changed much at first glance, with his neatly groomed hair, and although it was no longer required, he donned black robes.

“Didnt think they'd be back.” Ginny continued, glaring through the window. “Malfoy sure doesn't deserve a place in Hogwarts anymore.”

“I don’t know.” Luna shrugged, her gaze thoughtful. “He didn't seem all too happy about what happened last year either.”

“It doesn't matter what he thought,” Ginny retorted, somewhat angrily. “It matters what he did, and everyone knows what he did.”

“I suppose you’re right.” said Luna. “But still, it can’t be easy, coming back here.”

“It isn't easy for any of us.” Harry muttered. Everyone here had suffered in one way or another from the consequences of the war, and Harry definitely wasn't immune to the stares and whispers that only seemed to intensify over time.

Harry stayed mostly silent, listening to Luna’s theories about Nargals and Ginny’s Quidditch predictions, before finally letting his head fall against the cool window, overcome by fatigue from countless sleepless nights as the countryside moved along outside, and let himself be lulled to sleep by his friends’ conversation and the rocking of the train.

Chapter Text

Harry felt disoriented. He didn’t know what he had expected walking into Hogwarts again, but he should have known. As he walked towards the castle in the dark, Harry couldn’t help but notice some walls caved in, towers still crumbled, destroyed by spells too powerful to be reversed with a simple reparo. And as Headmistress McGonagall gave her welcoming speech in the Great Hall, as they payed their respected to the dead, all Harry could see was bodies. Bodies, everywhere. Empty eyes glazing over as souls leaked out of them like tears. Blood streaming along the walls like some kind of cursed rain in a gutter. He barely payed attention to the Sorting, or what was being said, his head flooded with ghosts until a certain point during the meal when Ginny pulled him back to reality with a tap on his shoulder. “Harry? You okay? You didn’t eat much.”

Harry startled and attempted a reassuring smile. He hdn’t realized how weird he must look. Fortunately, only Ginny seemed to have noticed, the rest of the table seemingly immersed in conversation. “Yeah. Just…you know.” He gestured vaguely around them.

“I do.” Ginny said solemnly, and Harry noticed her eyes were wet. “His body…” she trailed off her voice breaking. Fred.

Harry didn’t know what to say. He understood, of course he did. And nothing he could say would change it. He looked away, embarrassed by his inability to just respond. Harry took in the table they were sitting at, a table designated for eighth years, since there wasn't enough space at the individual House tables for all of them. At the end of his table, alone, were the returning Slytherins - there weren’t a lot of them, and Harry only recognized Malfoy, Parkinson, and Zabini by name. They were conversing, quietly Harry noticed, more quiet than then others, as if they were scared to take up space with what they had to say.  Harry watched as Malfoy laughed at something Zabini said, his face turning a light pink as he shoved at his friend. He looked… different. Less uptight, like he didn’t have a stick in his ass anymore. The last time Harry had spoken to Malfoy was at his trial, as a witness. 

He had been sporting a debilitating hangover, his head pounding as he stood under the bright Ministry lights to defend Draco and Narcissa Malfoy. There he had seen Malfoy, handcuffed to a chair, hair longer than usual, cheeks hollower, bones sharper - the time he had spent this Azkaban, however short it had been, had not gone without consequences. Their eyes had met, briefly and Malfoy addressed Harry a curt nod before the latter began to speak. After his testimony, and the seemingly interminable hearing, Harry left the court, relieved that Malfoy would not be serving anymore jailtime, and ready to go back to Grimmauld Place and at least try and sleep.

As he stepped out the door, Draco Malfoy, then released from Ministry custody, had rounded on him, appearing nervous. “Potter!” He had called out.  And then quieter, sincere. “Thank you.”

“Just told the truth.” Harry had shrugged. His head hurt too much for this, and his empty stomach lurched as he turned to leave. “I’m glad you’re free.”

Draco’s gaze turned questioning, and he opened his mouth as if to say something else before deciding not to, and closed it again, looking uncomfortable. There was a moment of uneasy silence as the two boys stood, facing each other, before Harry turned and left.

A clatter echoed next to Harry - Ginny had dropped her fork onto the table, next to her mostly untouched plate. “Fuck this. Wanna get out of here?” She said suddenly. Seamus looked at them for a moment and waggled his eyebrows at Harry, before laughing and returning tp his conversation with Dean and Ron.

“Uhh…” Harry wanted to get out of this room, but leaving with Ginny would meaning having to talk to her, alone. But fuck it, he would have had to face her sooner or later anyway. “Sure.”

***

The evening air was cool, and the Quidditch pitch dark and empty. Harry walked wordlessly through the grass, following Ginny as she led him to the middle of the pitch, letting herself fall onto the grass. Harry followed suit. For a moment they just laid there, Harry’s heart beating faster with each passing moment. What was he going to say? He just hoped he wasn’t going to break her heart.

“Remember that game, during my fifth year, when we won the Quidditch cup?”

Harry knew exactly which game she was talking about. And he also knew exactly what had happened after. “Yeah.” he said, “it was amazing.”

“Right.” she said. “And then we kissed, and that felt amazing too.”

Harry nodded. It had, at the time, but he didn’t see where she was going with this. Did she still feel for him in ways he could feel back? Harry hoped not, he didn’t want to hurt her. But Ginny didn’t look at him, just looked up at the sky. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly, nodding up at the stars.

“What?” Harry said, at lost. 

“The sky.” Ginny said, and she laughed a little, “It sounds corny, I know. But it’s beautiful that there’s other worlds out there, just so far from all… this. Whatever, it’s stupid.”

Harry stared up at the stars with her. “No it’s not.” He said

Ginny smiled. “It’s ok, Harry. I know things are different with us now.”

“You do?” He breathed, letting out a relieved exhale.

“I’m sorry, you know. If you still…” She turned her head to the side, facing Harry. She looked apologetic, guilty almost.

“Oh,” he said. He hadn’t expected Ginny to be the one breaking up with him. “Oh, I thought you…”

Ginny looked at him incredulously. “You thought I was still in love with you?”

“Kinda.” Harry admitted, and a laugh burst out before he could help it. In a moment, they were both curled up laughing, until a tear streamed from Ginny’s eye and Harry’s ribs hurt.

“Harry,” Ginny said, after a moment, sitting up suddenly. “You know, I’ve never told anyone this before, but…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Never mind.”

“What is it?” Harry sat up to face her. “You can talk to me.”

Her voice was quiet when she spoke again. “Harry… I’m gay.”

His eyes widened at the revelation. “Oh.” Ginny nodded, shifting uneasily. She looked… nervous. Harry smiled at her. “It’s cool, Gin. I don’t have a problem with it.”

Ginny smiled back. “And fuck anyone who does.” She said, a little firmer now.

Harry chuckled at that - that was the Ginny Weasley he knew. Without thinking too much, he leaned over and enveloped her in his arms. “I love you,” he said, then added, “No hetero.”

Ginny laughed at that, and hugged him back. “Love you too, platonically of course.”

“So tell me,” he said, pulling away with a smirk. “Does little Ginny Weasley have a girlfriend yet?”

He was expecting the shove and when it came, and he was pushed back onto the grass, Harry didn’t mind it. He felt more relaxed than he had in days. Weeks, even.