A Bird's Sad Song [Open]

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Despite the fact that the grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had long since quieted from the bloody battle little more than a month before, memories and ghosts of screams and howls in the night still haunted a particular witch as she wove her way over paths taking her to the front gates. Her gait was slow and steady, like every step was a cherished moment, and her brown eyes were glazed over, seeing something that nobody else could see rather than what was right in front of her.

Hermione Granger had been a quiet soul since the Battle of Hogwarts had concluded all those days ago. She rarely spoke with anyone, save for a select few, and even then it wasn’t hard to see how distant she was. Her eyes were ringed in dark circles, as sleep had not been coming easily to her. And when it did, more often than not she would awake crying, or screaming, from whatever nightmare had plagued her. She had, thankfully, been excused from seeing most of the horrors from the war, but the Battle, and participating in it, had been the crown jewel of her horrid experiences. From the moment they’d left the Burrow last year up through the final moments of the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione had been operating automatically. She’d had to keep going, for her friends’ sakes, for her own sake. She’d had to be strong.

But now the war was over. The battle had been won. And she was hollow.

Part of it was due to the fact that she had somehow started to feel like she didn’t have as much purpose as she’d had before the war had ended. Hermione’s job had been to protect the two boys she’d cherished most in the world, and she had failed to protect one of them. Her role in the war had been to stand by her best friend, and she had done that. Now, marked by her own failure and having fulfilled her job… what was meant to lie in front of her now? The only thing that Hermione knew for certain was that she would be returning to Hogwarts in the fall when it reopened, and she would finish her education. Beyond that, she wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted out of life, exactly. All she really knew was that she just had to keep going. That was her only drive.

She picked her way across the paths and eventually found herself at the front gates of the school that had been her home for the past many years, a home that now had to be repaired and reconstructed. The summer heat was beginning to pick up in the morning and the sun shone down on her – unusually sunny weather when she was feeling so utterly miserable. Almost like clockwork she could feel her hair start to frizz in the humidity, and she sighed as she tugged at a strand or two. Some things just never changed.

The eighteen-year old girl leaned against one of the statues that marked the entrance and sank down to the ground, choosing to sit there for a while before she headed back. Normally she hated being left alone, but for the first time in a while the quiet and the isolation was almost soothing to her frazzled nerves. Leaning her forehead against one of her knees, Hermione yawned and closed her eyes, choosing to just enjoy the quiet and the soft chirping of birds as they flew overhead. The lucky little winged creatures had no idea of the suffering going on down below. She could have been sitting there for minutes or hours, she wasn’t sure, but eventually Hermione heard the footsteps of someone approaching. She lifted her head to see who it was, and pushed herself to her feet to prepare for a greeting.

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OPEN | 645 | Woo first post!

Loki

This is the road to ruin 
And we're starting at the end

He needed food.

The cupboards were becoming bare, and really, there was only so much food Kreacher could make before even the House Elf was resorted to simply catching their food. And Harry had no desire to eat mice. And he feared what the elderly elf would do if he didn't force some food down Harry's throat. His self punishment wasn't as bad as Dobby's had been, but the little guy could work himself up in a jiffy. And all Harry needed now was his House Elf to drop dead.

Even though they had spent so many weeks hiding in Sirius' his home just over a year ago, it was still amazing the changes in Kreacher. He had taken excellent care of the house in Harry's absence, cleaning the place up further to please Harry when he returned. The spare bedrooms were prepped with new decor; only a few relics of the Black's remaining in each room to give tribute to the home's previous owners. The only room that had remained unchanged - minus the fact that it was actually clean of all cobwebs and dust bunnies - was Sirius' old room: Harry's room. And for that, Harry was grateful.

He was also grateful for the company the elf provided. Not that he was in lack of company. Oh no, if he wanted the company of others, all he had to do was simply stick his head outside the front door. Company galore. And it wasn't like there weren't people who didn't come calling. But he simply wasn't in the mood the talk. What was there to say? No, he wasn't doing good. No, there was nothing they could do. No, he didn't want to go stay with anyone. So to avoid the words of sympathy, the looks of pity, and the false smiles of those who truly didn't care he locked himself away from everyone. It wasn't hard. He'd simply sit in a corner with his Invisibility cloak on, remaining silent until they eventually went away.

The only person he actually allowed his company to was Hermione. Her's was the only company he wanted to be in; needed to be in. While it was true others had lost someone important to them in the war - he was in no way conceited enough to think himself the only one - only Hermione would truly be able to understand what it was he went through. She'd been there from the beginning. Not of the war. From the beginning. She had been the first person to have ever had faith in him ('You won't be rubbish. It's in your blood' 'You'll be okay, Harry. You're a great wizard. You really are.') She'd been there with him even when... Well, she'd just been there. Through it all. Till the end.

He knew it wasn't healthy to hide away from everyone. But he just wasn't ready. Maybe if things had turned out differently - if Ron hadn't died - maybe then he'd have the strength to step out and face the world. But the fact remained Ron hadn't survived. And if he'd thought it had hurt before when Ron had turned his back on him in the past; it was nothing compared to the gaping hole that seemed to fill his very being knowing that this time, there was no coming back. In all honesty, if it weren't for Hermione, Harry highly doubted he would have had the will to continue living. As it stood, his last remaining best friend was his reason for getting up in the morning - even if he only made it so far as the stairs most mornings.

Grabbing his invisibility cloak, the Marauder's Map and his wand, Harry made his way to his fireplace; grabbing a pinch of Floo Powder and tossing it in. The green flames burst into life with a swooshing roar; momentarily reminding Harry of that hour in the forest with Voldemort. The bright flash of green of the killing curse heading his way with a deadly purpose. Pushing the sudden image away, he stepped into the green flames and firmly stated his desired location. The spinning Chimney's were nauseating as usual. Bright green eyes squinted shut in order to keep what little food he'd eaten for the day where they belonged. When he felt himself starting to slow down, he put his hands out to brace himself, walking out of the Headmaster's - Headmistress'- fireplace at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

A quick look around the office let him know that no one was present; either in person or in the picture frames. Pulling the Marauder's Map out, he quickly mumbled the words to bring the map to life. With ease from years of picking out one name in a group of thousands, Harry quickly found Hermione's name. Wiping the map clean, he made his way out of the Office and down the spiral stair case; his gaze pinned to the ground in front of him. He didn't need to see where he was going. He knew the castle so well. And he didn't want to see any reminders of what had just transpired here a month ago. Picking up the pace slightly, he all but jogged out of the castle, his heart hammering in his chest painfully as panic started to set in.

Stepping outside into the fresh air brought his heart rate back down and allowed him to get his breathing under control - when had that started to get so erratic? - as he looked around for Hermione. Finding his friend, he made his way over to her, making sure his steps made enough noise to alert his presence but not loud enough to surprise her. Moving beside her, he sank down to the ground.

Hermione Granger hope it's okay

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Harry. It was only Harry.

Almost immediately, Hermione sat back down, perfectly aware that he’d be joining her on the ground shortly. There might have been a time, during the start of their friendship, when she might not have been able to read him as well or had to try and guess what he might do, but it was a time long since passed. It had reached the point where Hermione knew her best friend about as well as she knew herself. So she remained silent as he came closer and remained so until he was sitting next to her. With a sigh, she automatically leaned against him – her current substitute for an embrace.

”I didn’t think you’d leave Grimmauld Place,” she said to him in greeting, glancing over at him. It had been a while since she’d seen Harry away from the Black ancestral home, but as usual, Hermione was glad he’d ventured out to see her. Harry’s presence was the only one that comforted her at this point, and comfort was in something everyone was in need of these days. She could only hope that her presence gave him half as much ease as he gave her. Not that anyone or anything was actually alright these days. ”I was going to come by later today to see if you needed anything.” Mostly because she couldn’t let go of the notion that she needed to take care of them.

The loss of Ron had been hard on them both, Harry almost more so, because of course he probably blamed himself. They avoided talking about it for the most part, as Hermione didn’t want to bring it up and he didn’t seem too keen on the subject either. Sooner or later they would have to, though, but for now it was fine to stay away from it. Because the second they breached it, Hermione knew that it would likely result in a shout match, and neither of them were in particular states to handle such a thing right now. The end of the war, however, also meant a number of different things. Their part in it was over, and the wizarding world was saved. Their lives were no longer in danger, but what were they supposed to do now? Hermione’s normally sharp and astute brain wasn’t so quick to draw up solutions this time.

”But I’m glad you came,” she amended quickly, looking out over the grounds they’d once used to roam, her brown eyes distant again. ”How-“ This was going to be a ridiculous question and she knew it, but it was one Hermione felt the need to ask just the same. ”How are you feeling? Any better?” She was already expecting a negative answer, or one equally biting. After all, how was one supposed to recover when something like this happens? When someone loses their best friend?

She couldn’t even begin to start sorting through whatever feelings she might have had for Ron. Hermione had been confused at best by them, and yet when she’d given in… he hadn’t died more than a few hours later? How did someone cope with that? Whatever they had, whatever they might have had in the future, there was no chance to explore that now. No chance they would ever be together at this point. The girl rubbed her forehead. Thoughts of this nature would only send her down a path she didn’t want to go down right now, not with Harry beside her. That was something to confront on her own, curled up under a mountain of blankets where nobody could hear her cry.

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HARRY | 608 | And    hope   this   is   okay  in    return!

Loki

This is the road to ruin 
And we're starting at the end

Feeling the comforting weight of Hermione leaning against him, Harry leant back slightly; allowing their leaning bodies to keep the both of them up right. Harry found it fitting how their current, physical positions were mimicking their mental and emotional stances with one another. They kept each other on their feet; well, Hermione was keeping him on his. He wasn't entirely sure if he had the right to claim the same for her. Hermione was a strong young woman; he knew he had nothing to do with that.

He tilted his head slightly to look at her; the ghost of a smile appearing on his thin lips - the ghost of stumble playing on his chin and cheeks. He needed to shave. He didn't like the feeling of a beard growing on his face. But months on the run hadn't cared what his personal preference was for his facial hair and he'd learned to ignore it. He had to keep reminding himself that he was able to shave it off. "Kreacher was complaining about getting out and visiting someone. And we're running low on food. I was going to try braving the store but..." He let his sentence die off with a shrug.

But being around people frightened him. He had no idea who was watching him; and he wasn't stupid enough to think that he was safe to do anything without the Prophet hearing about it. He wouldn't be surprised to walk down to the edge of the grounds and find a mass of people trying to get a picture of him. He could already see the headlines: 'The Elusive Harry Potter Sighted At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!' There was a reason he didn't want to be out and about. He wasn't entirely sure what impression the Wizarding world was under about the long months he, Hermione and Ron - he flinched slightly at the thought of his friend - were on the run, but it was certainly no cake walk. Of course, very few in the Wizarding world knew about Riddle's Horcrux's.

"You don't have to make sure I have anything Hermione. If the house runs low on something, then that'll force me outside; isn't that what needs to happen?" What needed to happen was that Harry needed to get his hand on a time turner - ignoring the fact that they accidentally shattered every single one of them back in his fifth year - and go back one month. He needed to find Ron and stop him from being mauled to death. He needed to have been that much faster. Then he... they, wouldn't be where they were at right now: barely holding it together.

How was he feeling... She asked him that every time she stopped by for a visit. And every visit he would give her a fake smile and leave it at that. But the truth was, he wasn't sure how he was feeling. How should he feel? Empty inside? After all, the very deed his entire life had been leading up to... had been completed. What was he supposed to do now with his life? He had left his friends behind, journeying into the woods under the protection of his invisibility cloak and surrounded by the deceased loved ones he'd ever lost in his life to meet his end. He'd been finally intent on dying and never seeing the battle through to the end. He'd lost his first friend in a war that he shouldn't have been forced to fight.

Ron shouldn't have fought in the war. Hermione shouldn't have fought in the war. What she deserved was to be sitting in a living room having tea with her mum and dad; attempting to explain to them the world to which she belonged. Not sitting amongst ruins with her life shattered into tiny shards all around her; threatening to rip her to shreds. Ron should have been at home with his huge family; bickering with his siblings and stuffing his face full of fifth and sixth helpings of his mother's food. Not in a coffin surrounded by dirt and worms and bugs and slowly decaying to bone before his time.

That was where Harry was supposed to be.

"I don't know." The words left him at barely a whisper as his gaze fixed into the middle distance ahead of him. "No. I.... It's hollow. And empty. Vast and never ending and I feel... Dead." It was the most accurate term he could think of to describe how he felt. "How do you get better from that?"

Hermione Granger hope it's okay

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”I understand,” came the quiet response. Even though she herself had been out and about, she knew that, for Harry, it was taking a different kind of step. The only reason she felt brave enough to go out into the world, the reason she was fine with it, was because the press hardly bothered with her. She wasn’t the star, the one they were looking for. The one or two reporters that had tried to pester her had gotten a sound Stinging Hex to their backsides, and Rita Skeeter, that horrid woman, at least had the sense to keep away from her. Harry, however, wouldn’t have that option. Reporters were looking for him, trying to catch him for an interview, it was stardom like never before. And he wasn’t ready for that, nor did she blame him. Neither of them would have been after this cataclysmic event.

Feeling the returning pressure of him leaning back against her made Hermione feel warm – warmth that only his friendship provided and eased the ice that surrounded her heart. Even though she of course couldn’t read his mind or tell exactly what he was thinking, Harry was indeed the sole thing that kept her anchored to the ground, and was continuing to do so. Taking care of him, making sure that he was going to be alright, gave her a purpose that otherwise she would have lacked with Ron gone. Plus, he had always been her best friend. At this point, he was just about all she had left. Ministry members were currently trying to locate her parents in Australia, there was no knowing when or if she’d hear back from them.

Banishing thoughts of this sort from her head, as they were only going to make her feel worse, she sighed at Harry’s comment. ”Yes, I do.” The way she said it didn’t leave much room for argument. ”And you’re outside right now. You and I both know you’re not ready to face the crowds, and that’s just fine.” Hermione wasn’t exactly ready either, she just had the benefit of not being Harry Potter. Nobody particularly cared for the muggleborn that had been in the background the entire time, especially not when they knew that she had a nasty streak for striking back at those who bothered her.

Her shoulders sank, as did her mood, when Harry was finally honest with her about the state he was in. Harry was a good, strong, and kind young man. He was loyal and loving to his friends, and she knew of anybody, he would take Ron’s loss the hardest. Even harder than she was taking it, even though there was no denying that they were both wounded deeply. They had entered this war as a trio, as three. They’d emerged only as two. The thought was beyond heart-wrenching, and Hermione knew they both blamed themselves. And that neither of them blamed the other. Hermione knew that Harry had been busy. He’d been on a mission that she and Ron had only been helping with, that in the end had been his to fulfill. She wasn’t sure what excuse Harry might have come up with for not blaming her, but she was sure she had one just the same.

Besides, he likely wouldn’t be here, caring about her, if he truly blamed her for the loss of his very best friend.

It appeared that this time in her life was another new round of firsts for her, because for the first time, she truly, truly didn’t know how to answer Harry and his painful question. How did someone get better from pain like this? Because she understood how Harry was feeling, and it wasn’t just sympathy, but empathy that drove her understanding. She was, after all, experiencing the very same emotions. With a sigh, she wrapped her arms around Harry and hugged him gently from the side. She knew how he felt, and while she had no idea if her answer would offer any comfort, Hermione at least had to try. If anything, for him.

”I’m not sure,” she confided, her own voice barely more than a whisper too. ”Live, I suppose. Keep moving. I don’t really know.” Her voice faltered. ”I… I’d like to think he wouldn’t want us to stay sad forever. I just… don’t know how else to be right now.” Tears made her brown eyes water for what felt like the hundredth time this week, and a sob was bubbling up in her throat, and Hermione struggled to suppress it. She’d cried too much around Harry for it to be alright anymore. She had to be there for him, considering he’d already been there for her so much already. ”I don’t think it’ll ever get any easier. Just… easier to manage, in time.”

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HARRY | Feels    godammit

Loki

This is the road to ruin 
And we're starting at the end

That was something he'd always loved about Hermione; you didn't have to explain yourself to her. Oh sure, when it came to pushing someone to their limits and back, Hermione was more than capable. But she knew when to push. And she knew just how hard to push. But she'd always known him best. Hell, she'd knew more about him than even he did. One could argue it was all part of the package deal known as 'friendship' - that best friends were supposed to know you better than anyone else: yourself included. But her knowledge of him had pre-dated their friendship. Both about him and of him. So her 'I understand' - even though he really hadn't claimed why he wouldn't brave the store front - had been complete understanding; not just an attempt at sympathizing.

How she managed to put up with it all, he wasn't sure. Oh, he could fathom a few guesses onto how she dealt with it - he and Ron had not been entirely positive when it came to their influence on Hermione in their first year - but how she put up with it... He could only hazard a guess that he and Ron had been excellent precursors when it came to her learning patience. He had never been that gifted. Harry was - among his friends and those closest to him - known for his short temper. Just two years ago - looking back, it's hard to think that those had been the good times - he'd spent most of the year snapping at Ron and Hermione. He personally believed he deserved an award for not having sent hexes at the numerous number of reporters that deemed it necessary to bombard his home every day and every few hours with letters all bidding for his exclusive interview. He'd even received a letter charmed to open the very minute entered the room and shout at him with the intensity of a Howler until he'd set the thing aflame. It didn't seem to concern any of them that while his cards hadn't been put into play until the very end - for only three... Two people would ever know the full extent of those long months on the run - that he hadn't fought just as hard and lost so much in the war.

While they may have won the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry felt that Voldemort somehow still won the war.

There were only a few people he'd let take care of him. Missus Weasley was one of them; having been the only mother figure he'd had in his life - he thought of his mother appearing before him in the first; her pale, watered down form reaching for him in that clearing as he stumbled towards her drunkenly with a longing of contact he hadn't been aware had always been present in his life. Kreacher was another; if only because the elf insisted on caring for him, and Harry feared the old elf would die of a heart attack if he were denied his 'job'. And then there was Hermione; who gave him more than he could ever say or ever return. So when she said she had to, Harry didn't put up much of an argument; not that her tone left much room for one. "I'll have to face them eventually. Kingsley wants me present at a few more trails. And I have to give him my answer for the Ministry job." Kingsley had approached Harry and everyone else who had fought in the last battle and offered them all jobs as Aurors. And while it was exactly what Harry had wanted to do after Hogwarts - the only life he truly knew - he hadn't given the Minister an answer.

He'd wanted more time to try and... Steady himself before jumping into what would undoubtedly be the spot light and tedious hours of work at the Ministry; attempting to fix the damage that had been done. Another reason was because he hadn't completed his education. And McGonagall had offered him the chance to make up the year. But the thought of going to class without Ron there... To sit alone in classes in which he didn't have Hermione as a companion to ward off the loneliness and the masses was enough to give him a panic attack. There was no way he could actually do it.

Feeling her arms wrap around him from the side, he grasped at her wrist; his grip perhaps a bit to tight. But it was the only way he felt he could show her without sounding like a complete and total sap how broken he was and how desperately he was hanging on; how fragile his grip was with everything at the current time. Live. It was so simple. Get up in the morning, go about your day - whether it consists of laying about, studying, going to class, or going to work - allow your body that unconscious ability to pull air into your lungs before exhaling it a second later without even realizing it. It was so hard to pull in that next breath of air; the weight sitting in his chest unyielding and restricting the expansion of his lungs. It was so much easier to exhale; to allow his lungs to deflate and collapse and cease to work for one second. But then he had to fight to pull in that next breath. And the next.

Live... Why did he get to live? He'd set out to die; to correct the mistake Voldemort had made all those years ago. It had been why the Resurrection Stone had worked so well for him. "I saw my parents. When I went to Riddle..." He hadn't told anyone this; having kept the presence of his deceased loved ones to himself. But... Maybe... Maybe telling Hermione would help. Maybe it would help him feel alive, so that he can live.

Hermione Granger feel those feels, feel them

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