Folds of the Future
The end of October came lazily and the most uneventfully as it had in years. The Ministry's ego was swelling marvelously, and the Daily Prophet was making at least double its usual business to say the least. He found himself once again in the midst of everything, receiving awards and honors, attending the ceremonies that accompanied. But the celebrating was done for him, which he hadn't even been his idea in the first place, and now with the craziness finally dying down the midst of everything wasn't much at all. Everyone seemed to think he should still be celebrating, but he didn't feel there was much to celebrate.
He found himself out on a small grassy hill behind the Weasley's house, which was covered with the first frost of the season. He'd left the house to get away from anyone in particular, rather in search of the solitude he needed to think and make yet more decisions. He sat there, his butt cold from the frozen ground and his breath coming out in small, lingering what puffs. In his cold hands he held an old Gryffindor jacket, one that he had gotten fourth year, the year of the Tri Wizard Tournament and Voldemort's true and final return. He shivered, unsure if it was from the bitter chill or the memory; either way he thought, maybe he should have worn a heavier cloak. He stared at the jacket, thinking back on all the memories that came with it, and looked up at the sky. It was bright, really bright and made the frozen blades of grass glitter like diamonds, and despite the warm sun it was still too cold. He heard the crunching of frozen grass behind him and looked up to see Ron standing beside him, hands shoved in his pockets. He stood there and watched a few of his breath-clouds disappear and looked down at Harry, who had resumed staring at the ground.
"What are you doing out here, Harry?" he asked, squinting in the sunlight.
"Wondering what to do next," he answered honestly.
Ron cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"
"The War's over. Voldemort's dead." He looked off, not at Ron, and spoke again after a few moments. "What now?"
Ron sighed. "I'm rubbish at this sort of thing, Harry. Really, it's Hermione you should be talking to, but…"
"I did."
"And what did you say?"
"I told her that I love her - more than life, really." he said, staring intently at the ground.
"I'll help if I can, Harry," Ron said. There was silence between them for some time, neither sure what the other wanted to say, and neither sure who should speak first. It was almost awkward, but awkwardness was lost between them long ago.
"Ron, this has been all I've ever known, all I've ever been; fighting the bad guy and everyone that followed him. It's…over. So… who am I?"
"You're just Harry," he said softly.
Harry shook his head. "Is that enough? Is just being… Harry enough? Where does this leave me?" He was quiet a moment. "I'm nobody all over again."
"That's not true," Ron replied, "and you know it."
"Do I?"
"Harry, you can finally do all the things you've always wanted to, and you don't have to… to look over your shoulder anymore. You can get on with your life now," he said quietly.
"Can I really?" he asked softly. "Or was all of it all of me?"
"You're my best friend in this entire world. You're a brilliant wizard. You're a great person, Harry. And Hermione, she's so in love with you, and that has nothing to do with any of that other stuff, just you." he said softly, hoping that he was helping. There was silence between them for a few moments, Ron waiting to see if Harry was going to accept any of what he had said, and decided there was one more thing he needed to say. "'The Boy-Who-Lived' is just a name, Harry, it doesn't have to be all you are." He stared down at his best friend for a moment, and then down at his feet. He just wanted Harry to understand that even if he was no one to anyone else in the world, he was someone to them. Finally, Harry looked up at Ron and smiled a little.
"When did you get so smart and philosophical and…smart?" he asked with a grin.
"It's Hermione," he said in mock exasperation. "I swear, you spend enough time with that girl and her brain rubs off on you." He faked a shudder. "It's disgusting, really," he said jokingly and Harry laughed.
"Fred and George would be proud of you for that one," Harry replied smiling.
"I reckon they would be," Ron said in return with a satisfied smirk. "So did I manage to help at all?"
"Plenty," he answered. "Thanks."
"So now it's my turn to ask: What now?" he asked and Harry smiled warmly at him.
"First, Tonks and Lupin's wedding," Harry said and Ron nodded.
"After that?"
Harry stood, still holding the jacket and looked at it. "Then… I'm going to Hogwarts." There was a sadness in his voice that Ron didn't like to hear, the same sadness that broke Hermione's heart when she heard it.
"For what?"
The sadness was mirrored in his eyes, which seemed distant for a moment. "To say goodbye," he said softly. "I never said goodbye to Dumbledore, at least not properly, and… now it's over." He paused. "I think it's time to let go." Ron looked at his feet, unsure of what to say, or if there even was anything he could say. "And then, I want to just… move on."
"Good, Harry. You deserve to be happy after all you've been through," Ron said warmly.
"We all do," Harry replied. "And then maybe we can all live together, the three of us, because to be honest I don't want to go separate ways."
"Well, you and Hermione wouldn't anyway, but neither do I." He smiled at Harry. "And I reckon me and you and Hermione would be great living together. Except for you two shagging, it would be kind of like Hogwarts."
"Yeah," Harry said softly with a smile, "kind of like Hogwarts."
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