I must become a lion hearted girl, ready for fight before I make the final sacrifice. Here I am, a rabbit hearted girl, frozen in the headlights. It seems I've made the final sacrifice.
This girl was rather rash. Still, the witch took a step to the side - she did not need to concern herself in unnecessary drama that did not involve her.
”Depends on the type of gun. The way to hold one differs from the others.”
She’s suspicious,but doesn’t question.
“Is that so?” The girl said, making a mental note. It is not as though she needed a gun, but was purely fascinated by them– they were barbaric, but something that she had come to know that is quite necessary with the violence that escalates these days. “Which are easier to handle?”
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.
Harry turned to look at her. His dear dear friend. A flash of the locket’s image Ron saw that night in the woods flickered in his own head as he caught her eye. He tamped it down. This wasn’t the first time he’d thought of his best mate’s worst fear… and not the first time he thought on the biggest lie he’d ever told his redheaded friend. Like a sister…
“Ron’s still in mourning and we should be, too.”
“But why? Why must we mourn, Harry?”
She had a point she was aiming for with her words; those that had fallen deserved the respect, but she knew for a fact that none of them would have wanted those that lived to feel the regret. “By that, I know it is healthy to mourn their deaths and we have been. But it is not healthy to obsess over it, Harry. We can’t change what’s already been done. Do you think Fred would want us to frown? That Sirius would want you to sit back and watch your life pass you? No, neither would and neither would any of the others we have lost.”
She sighed. “Of course, I am also feeling the same that you are, but at least I’m trying. It’s okay that you don’t feel like doing anything, but at least try. For me, please?”
At the sound of his name, Harry turned to her. “I know what you thought, Hermione. I just…”
“… I just can’t. Not this year.”
He’d been too often alone in the months after the battle. Firewhiskey had become a close friend. He assumed Hermione and Ron were getting on with whatever they deemed acceptable since the kiss he’d witnessed mid-battle. Ginny … well… that wasn’t working out as they both were dealing with post-war fallout. He was unsure about his future as a Ministry Auror. It was as if he was spinning out of control.
He was, after all, completely unused to living a life without someone trying to kill him.
“You’re not spending your birthday alone.”
Her arms folded over her chest, not to come across as demanding, but to merely let him know that she would not take ‘no’ for an answer.
“Even if it’s just you and me, I don’t care. But not alone.”
“I can’t Hermione. You know I hate calling attention to myself.”
He shook his head. “I appreciate the thought and I know what you’re trying to do, but it’s too soon.”
Harry looked ages older than his actual age and to celebrate the passing of the last year just brought into focus all of the things he’d lost in the last year.
“I’d rather just a quiet sort of thing. Maybe let it pass by without mention.”
“Harry–” she mumbled, brows knitting together in a frustrated way. Of course, she could understand. How could she expect him to want to celebrate his birthday with all that they had lost? It wouldn’t be much of a celebration without your loved ones – and they had lost a lot.
“I just.. thought that it might be good to remember what we have and not what we’ve lost. That’s all.”
❝Don’t worry, sweetheart. Y’can say it’s eyecatching.❞
“Actually, I am quite insulted by your comments.” The witch naturally reached down to adjust her skirt - though she did not believe it to be as short as the other was playing it to be.
“Harry– just the person I wished to see,” she gave him a smile as she approached him, arms wrapping around him. “I was thinking.. since we weren’t able to really celebrate your birthday last year in the way that I had hoped, I want to go all out for this year.”
“Like.. a party, a big one. With lots of sweets and Mrs Weasley’s cooking.”
