What’s there to Celebrate, Hermione? || witchgranger

ura-wizardharry:

“I don’t know. I can’t do anything else.”

The names she spoke cut at him, knowing that they died because he was incapable of saving them, not good enough. He’d tried to put it behind him, but Harry had no idea how. it was overwhelming, the accolades and then the funerals. He couldn’t do it alone, nor could he subject someone else to the personal hell he was living.

It was easier to hole up in Grimmauld, hiding. He reached for his ever present tumbler of firewhiskey and took a gulp, hissing at the burn of it down his throat. He tried not to glare at her. Why was she bothering him about this?

He turned to her.

"What do you want me to do?

                                         "I want you to trust me, Harry.”
      
              The witch stared back at him, eyes filled
              with emotions one could only imagine.
              She took a hesitant step forward and then
              reached her hand out toward him, wishing
              he would not turn to alcohol when things
              got tough.

                                    “It’s not just a want; I need you to.”