Ten
TEN
The night came, devoid of any solace that Harry sought as he sat beside the fire, staring into the glowing embers with a glass of fire whiskey dangling from his fingertips. He had married Ginny. Entered their union knowing that his heart was never fully in it but desperate to feel some connection he felt lacking. He remembered making love to her the night of their wedding. It had been stiff, awkward, void of the passion he had expected from making love. Looking back his body had known what to do, he didn’t fumble like Ginny did. Knowing what he knew now, that would explain why.
Ginny had been a beautiful bride. He could remember thinking that as she walked down the aisle. She had suggested being married in Godric’s Hollow. Like his parents, but something inside of Harry couldn’t bring himself to agree. Instead, they married at the burrow, just as every Weasley had for the past several generations. Harry had stood up front, Ron by his side as he clapped a hand firmly on his shoulder and Harry had felt lacking. Something inside of him was missing. His eyes had roamed the guests, looking for her face, just one more confirmation that there would never be a chance for them. He was settling. In his heart he knew that. It wasn’t fair to Ginny, but he would be happy, for her. For Hermione’s sake, he was determined to be happy.
It was nearly six months into their marriage that Ginny started asking about children. The timing never seemed right. Despite her quidditch schedule, Harry knew Ginny would have made a wonderful Mum, just as Molly did, but he could never bring himself to agree.
By the time the sun had reached the horizon, and the rays were peeking through his windows, Harry had barely drunk a single glass of whiskey. Despite the nearly full bottle and glass sitting on the floor next to his chair, his head pounded. He had expected to remain in the silence, alone for the remainder of the week, desperately trying to sort through his own thoughts. What he hadn’t expected was the knock on his door before seven in the morning.
Harry groaned as he stood up, his back popping in protest. His limbs stiff and sore. He made his way to the door, wondering who would show up this early. He swung the door open, and his breath stilled. Hermione stood on the steps; her face twisted up with unease. Her brown eyes were swollen and blood shot from crying. “Harry, please. I known I’m the last person you want to see right now.” He nearly slammed the door in her face, instead he gripped the doorknob painfully in his palm, barely controlling the anger he felt at the sight of her. “You’re bloody right about that.” He spit as he glared at her. Even angry, his heart still wanted her, and that made him even more angry.
She licked her lips, and he could barely stop himself from following the movement. “Listen Harry… I can’t give back all the years, I can’t give back the actual memory.” He stepped forward, cutting her off and nearly causing her to stumble backwards down the steps. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching forward and grabbing her wrist to stop her fall. He snatched his hand back like she had burned him, his face twisted up in disgust. “So why are you here? You can’t give me what I want.” Tears welled in her eyes and for the briefest moment, Harry felt guilty. As quickly as the feeling came, he pushed it back down. He had nothing to feel guilty for. This was her doing, her fault, her decision. Not his. “I understand you’re angry Harry and there is no way I can begin to say how truly sorry I am, but I want to make amends, in whatever way that I can.” She paused, looking up at him through her lashes, obviously surprised he had allowed her to make it this far. “Now that…well now that you know about Rosalee, we need to be civil to one another if only in her presence. I want to give you what I can.” She held out a small leather pouch. Glancing inside, Harry could see vials of swirling silver liquid. Her fingers trembled as she held it towards him. He stared at it for a moment, before taking it from her grasp, careful to avoid touching her. “Each one is labeled. I can’t give you back the years, or the memory of that night…” She hesitated, her gaze dropping as tears spilled. She swallowed hard before taking a deep breath and looking back up, “But I can give you mine.” She paused before nodding and slowly backing away without another word.
Harry watched as she disappeared, leaving him alone and standing in the doorway. He glanced down at the memories he held in his hands before slowly backing into the house, closing the door and sliding his back down until he sat against it.
He didn’t try to pretend that he wasn’t nervous about what was wrapped up in the bag. The memories he knew that were waiting for him. Truthfully, they terrified him. From the moment that bushy haired little girl pointed her wand at his face, fixing his glasses, he had been enraptured. First, it was simply the idea that unlike the rest of the wizarding world, he was simply Harry with her. Then, it was the fact that she was bloody brilliant. Then, he began noticing the woman she was becoming, but that was a line neither of them was willing to cross, at least that was the way he believed it had happened for years. The truth was sitting there, resting in his hands, just waiting to come out and the heaviness of it terrified him. Regardless of how angry he was with her, how disgusted he was by his actions, he was scared to see her point of view.
Harry wasn’t sure how much time had passed as he sat there on the floor, silently sifting through the small vials, each one meticulously labeled, as if he would expect anything less from her. December 1997, the forest of dean. March 1998 Shell cottage. Harry paused, his fingers lingering on the vial. Shell cottage was directly after Malfoy manor. He shivered despite the warmth in the house. May 1998 after the battle. September 1998 Rosalee’s birth. October 29th, 1998, Godric’s Hollow. There were so many memories. Harry swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. He closed the bag squeezing his eyes shut as he massaged his temples. “Harry?” Ron’s voice called out from the sitting room. With a groan Harry stood, finding his friend’s head waiting nervously in the fireplace. “Mind if I come through?” Ron asked uneasily. Harry sighed; he was exhausted. Mentally, physically and most certainly emotionally. He shrugged, not really committing to an answer.
A moment later, Ron stepped out from the fireplace, his face apologetic and his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. At first, they said nothing. Honestly, Harry wasn’t sure what to say. Rationally, Harry knew Ron wasn’t part of this. He only knew mere hours before himself, but as hurt as Harry was, he wasn’t thinking rationally. “Look mate. I was a git. I’m sorry that I kept it from you, but truly, I only found out the day before you and I told Hermione that this wasn’t going to go over well.” Harry nodded, unable to find the words. “I never meant to hurt you, and I don’t think Hermione did either.” Harry glared as her name slipped from his lips. Ron held his hands up in surrender, “I won’t speak for her, or try to make you forgive her, but me…well I’m sorry for hurting you however accidental it was.” Harry sighed before flopping down into the chair behind him. “I know that. I’m just mad…hurt…” Ron nodded, taking the seat opposite him.
The two descended into a comfortable silence. After a while, Harry thought maybe this was all that they would do. Silently forgive one another and move on. He should have known it would never be that easy. “I think you and Ginny need to talk.” Ron said after a rather long stretch of silence. “Hermione has always been a sore subject between you two. This revelation has hurt her too. There is obviously some…rather unresolved issues that the two of you need to work through.” Harry nodded, “I know.” He grumbled, he hated that Ron was right. Ginny deserved an honest apology. At least to some extent. “What’s that?” Ron asked, nodding his head to the bag in Harry’s hands.
Harry tensed before opening the top and pulling out a vial. “Hermione stopped by this morning. Said she couldn’t give me back the memory, or the time I lost but she gave me hers.” Ron’s eyes went wide. “She gave you her memories to view?” Harry nodded, handing over one of the vials, the one that was labeled shell cottage. “Bloody hell…” Ron whispered as he read over the label. “Well are you going to watch them?” He asked, carefully passing the vial back to Harry. “Of course I am… I just need to…well I don’t need to do anything, I’m just nervous honestly.” Ron nodded before standing up. “Well…I’ll leave you to it. I know you can’t forgive me entirely yet; I don’t expect you to, but for what its worth…I’m sorry and I’m really glad you didn’t break my nose again.” Harry nodded. He was trying, that was all he could give them.
After Ron left, Harry made his way upstairs. Tucked away in his office was a pensieve Molly had gifted him for his first birthday as an auror. “Every great auror needs a pensieve.” She had stated proudly. Harry carefully set the bag on his desk and began pulling out the vials one by one, setting them up in a row in chronological order. Twelve vials. The last six years he had missed out on were reduced to twelve memories. His anger swelled as he stared at them. He had missed out on so much. He wondered if he should think things through before diving right in. Where should he start? The end and work his way back? Or should he jump feet first and watch how he had gotten to this point. He picked up the first vial. The one label with one and the forest of dean. He supposed the beginning, as painful as it would be, was the best place to begin.