Day Nine Part 1
“I think I’m ready,” he sighs.
“For what?” Hermione asks, winding her fingers in his. They’re sitting on the bed, Harry in the middle as usual, Ron’s arm slung around his shoulders. He’s unsure where his legs begin and theirs ends; they’re so tightly wrapped.
“To talk,”
Fred’s funeral had been devastating. Harry was used to death and grief. It clung to him like an old friend.
Ron was not.
Harry knew how to navigate the waves, to let them wash over him and then fade back out to sea.
Ron didn’t.
And somewhere in watching his best friend… his boyfriend… going through all that grief, he realized that he wasn’t drowning at the moment. The trauma, the suffering, everything, was sitting off-shore in his mind. It gave him room to breathe and to think.
“You know you don’t have to, Harry,” Ronn assures him.
“I know,” he sighs. “But your mum was right. They deserve some answers. Even just knowing that he’s actually dead this time, ya know? That we made sure of it,”
“One of us can-”
“No,” Harry says firmly, giving her hand a squeeze. “I appreciate it, but they need to hear it from me. I could see it yesterday… the relief that I was standing there. I think maybe they’re all sat down there, and it crosses their mind that I died, and they panic. You two can see me, hold me, realize I’m still here, but if I stay up here forever, then I might as well be dead,”
“We’ll be there every step of the way,” Ron assures him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“I know you will,” Harry smiles.
Hermione frowns. “Are we going to tell them? About us? I… I know it’s selfish, but I don’t know if I’m ready,”
Ron and Harry give each other a knowing look. Hermione had been reserved since their confession yesterday. She hadn’t even kissed Ron goodnight like she had been.
“How come?” Harry asks simply, seeing if she’ll open up.
She bites her lip and stares at the sheets again. “Remember fourth year? People hated me over the mere thought of me juggling two men, never mind that it wasn’t true,”
“Are you worried about people? Or are you worried about Molly?” Harry asks knowingly.
“Molly,” she whispers quietly, tiny as a mouse. Harry turns to Ron expectantly, raising an eyebrow to say, ‘Your mum. Your problem’.
“That’s not going to happen,” Ron assures her, leaning over Harry to grasp her other hand. “I’ll make sure of it,”
“Oh, Ron,” she scoffs.
“I will handle it,” he says firmly. “Whether that means I talk to her privately first or stand up to her, I don’t care. I know I’ve never been good at standing up to Mum, but I am now. Especially about the two of you,”
She gives a little huff that Harry knows as her ‘I’m annoyed with you, but also you’re sweet’ huff. “I appreciate it, but I still don’t want to. Not today. They’ll fix on it, use it as a distraction from everything else, and I just- I just want it to be ours for a while,”
“I think that’s reasonable,” Harry agrees.
“Of course it is,” Ron snorts. “It’s Hermione,”
She laughs softly. “How do you want this, Harry? Gather everyone round the kitchen table or?”
“Whatever works,” Harry sighs. “Neville should be there, Luna, maybe McGonagall,”
“I’ll talk to Dad,” Ron says, sliding off the bed. “We’ll sort it all out,”
“Thanks, love,” he smiles, looking up at him dreamily, grinning as the other boy turns bright red. Hermione snorts.
“What?” Ron protests.
“Oh, nothing,” she giggles. “You two are just cute, that’s all,”
Ron rolls his eyes, but his blush doesn’t fade. He leans down and gives them both a gentle kiss before leaving them alone once more.
“So,” Harry starts, turning to his girlfriend. “You gonna tell me what’s really wrong?”
“What?” Hermione asks, her eyes going wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,”
“Mione, I know you,” he insists. “You’re worried about more than a little attention about us dating,”
Her cheeks turn pink, and she tries to turn away from him, but he catches her chin, forcing her to look at him. He presses a soft kiss to her lips and then a deeper one, bringing his other hand up to cup her face.
“It’s silly!” she exclaims when he pulls away. He grins, filing away the information that kissing will make her talk.
“Nothing is ever too silly, okay?” he assures her. “I love you. I’m here for you,”
She sighs, resting her forehead against his. “It’s sex,”
“What about it?”
“I’ve never… never had it,” she admits, turning an even deeper shade of red.
“Oh,” Harry says simply. “Is that it?”
“What do you mean, is that it?” she asks indignantly, pulling away from him sharply. He winces, realizing he’s said the wrong thing.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, pulling her back. “I am too, you know,”
“Yeah, but you’re a boy,” she hisses. “You all make sex jokes and wank at night, and god knows what else,”
He chuckles at her. “Girls don’t?”
“Well, if they do, I wouldn’t have a clue,” she huffs. “I don’t have girl friends. None that I talk to about sex with, for Merlin's sake,”
“You know we don’t care,” Harry assures her. “We’ll take it slow. Make sure you’re ready and comfortable,”
“That’s the problem, Harry!” she squeaks. “I don’t know if I want it to be the both of you,”
“Oh? I don’t mind if you don’t want me there that’s fin-”
She sucks in a deep breath. “I don’t know if I want it to be Ron,”
“Oh,”
She turns red again. “I sort of… always imagined…”
“Imagined what?”
“That it would be you,” she mutters, turning away. “Since fourth year, when it became apparent that that could even be an option. What made all of that worse, Harry, was that I did like you. Fourteen-year-old me had quite the crush,”
“And eighteen-year-old you doesn’t?” he laughs.
She rolls her eyes. “She does,”
“So you’re worried about Ron being jealous,” Harry says simply. “Is that all? Or is there more?”
She bites her lip again. “I’m worried you’re not… attracted to me,”
It’s his turn to be shocked. “What on earth would give you that idea?”
“I dunno,” she shrugs. “You’ve just been a bit more intimate with Ron,”
“Mi, I’ve been sharing a bathroom with the man since I was eleven,” Harry snorts. “I’m used to seeing him half-naked, and besides, it’s only been a day? I haven’t even had a chance to process that this is real,”
“Yeah, okay,” she blushes.
“Hermione,” he says firmly, grabbing her chin again to make her look at him. “You’re so bloody hot it’s ridiculous, okay? You want to know why Ron finally kissed me yesterday?”
She nods, her eyes wide with arousal.
“Because you’re arse pushed me halfway across the bed, and I couldn’t think,” he laughs. “You were wiggling, Hermione,”
She giggles. “Really?”
“Yes, you bloody witch,” he laughs, pulling her into his lap. “And you’ve been doing it every night, driving me mad, woman, I swear,”
She hums contentedly, pressing her lips against his. “Thank you,”
“You’re welcome,” he smiles. “And if you want it to be me, then I’d be honored, but we should all chat about our feelings first, okay?”
“Okay,” she sighs. The door creaks open, and she squeaks with panic, throwing herself off his lap.
“Just me!” Ron exclaims, realizing he startled them. “Catch you snogging?”
“No,” Harry laughs. “Just talking,”
“Darn,” Ron teases, winking at them. His expression changes, suddenly looking unsure. “Everyone’s ready for you,”
“That was fast,”
He snorts. “Mate, they were about to come up here if it meant you’d explain,”
Harry gulps nervously.
“You can do this,” Hermione assures him. “We’ll help you tell as much as possible,”
“Okay,” he agrees, already feeling his hands trembling. They help him out of bed; he’s getting better but still weak. Ron supports him down the stairs, and Hermione carries his wand.
He expects Ron to lead him to the living room or the kitchen, but instead, he takes them outside, where everyone is sitting around the garden table. The reason is apparent when Harry spots Hagrid seated at the far end.
“Hagrid,” Harry says breathlessly, tears pooling in his eyes.
“Harry!” Hagrid says with equal emotion, almost knocking over the table as he stands to meet them across the garden. Ron lets go of his arm so he can hug the giant of a man. “I’m so sorry, Harry, I couldn’t- I couldn’t,”
“It’s okay, Hagrid,” he says, his voice strained from the tightness of the hug. “There was nothing you could have done,”
“What do you mean?” Hagrid asks.
“I’ll explain,” Harry assures him.
“Let’s sit,” Hermione chimes in. “We all will,”
Hagrid supports him to the table, sitting him down on the other end, enabling him to see everyone. Ron and Hermione crowd their chairs next to him, Hermione holding his hand and Ron causally slinging his arm across the back of his chair. It wouldn't be unusual to anyone else, but it was enough of a reminder to him of how close they had become.
Harry looks down the table and realizes that Ron must have given people seating arrangements because Molly is at the far end when Harry knows she would rather be fussy about in the chair to his right. Instead, Neville sits there, looking tired but determined. McGonagall sits on his other side, giving Harry a small smile and a nod. The rest of the Weasley clan fill out the other end except for Ginny. She and Luna sit on the left, and Harry suspects they’re holding hands under the table.
“Hello, Luna,” he grins, and she smiles her dreamy smile at him.
“Hullo Harry, you have less wrackspurts now,”
He’s taken aback. “Yes, Luna, I’d imagine I would,”
“What do you mean, Harry?” Ginny asks, confused that he’s agreeing with Luna about the funny creatures she insists upon.
“It’s a long story, Gin,” he says with a big breath, looking around the table. “But I’ll try to explain,”
So he explains everything. Sometimes, his words get twisted, and Hermione has to correct the timeline, or Ron has to interject with something important, but he explains. The lessons with Dumbledore, Voldemort's past, and the Horcruxes. He explains Snape giving him the memory and that Dumbledore was dying anyway. The only thing he leaves until the end is what he knows they all want to know because it still makes his chest tighten, and he wants to get the rest out first.
“So that’s why you had me kill the snake?” Neville finally asks. “Because it was a Horcrux. But why me?”
Harry takes a shaky breath. “Do you remember the prophecy they wanted? The one about me and Voldemort?”
“Yes,”
“It was about you too, in a way,”
There’s a murmur of surprise across the table, and even Ron and Hermione look confused.
“I can’t remember the words right now,” Harry says shakily. “But basically, it said that Voldemort would choose the person that would defeat him. That he would mark someone as his equal… someone born at the end of July,”
Neville’s eyes widen in shock. “Are you saying… it could’ve… it could’ve been me?”
“Yes,”
“Why- why was it you?”
Harry lets out a strangled laugh. “Snape,”
“I knew it!” George seethes. “That no good-”
“Hold on, George,” Arthur says. “Let him finish,”
“Snape was in love with my mother,” Harry explains. “He heard part of the prophecy, assumed it was about me, and couldn’t hide it from Voldemort. So he went to Dumbledore, defected, and begged him to protect her. Dumbledore hid my parents, and Snape joined our side. It might have worked if it weren’t for Pettigrew,”
Neville looks ill. “Is that why Snape hated me? Because… because it could have been me? And your mum would have lived?”
“It doesn’t excuse it, Neville,” Hermione says gently. “He was a teacher. He should have never treated you like that,”
Neville nods, still looking pale.
“I’m confused,” Bill pipes up. “That can’t have been all there was to it,”
“No,” Harry agrees. “There’s more. The part that Snape didn’t hear, so neither did Voldemort,”
He hesitates.
“The part that Dumbledore knew,”
He glances at Ron and Hermione, knowing this is the part they’ve been waiting for.
“Those memories Snap gave me,” he takes a shaky breath. “There was a memory of Dumbledore explaining the rest of the prophecy to him before he died, specifically to give to me in the last moments of the battle,”
“Why?” Ginny asks.
“One must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives,”
“WHAT?”
“I-” Harry chokes, unable to say the words. “When Voldemort killed my mother, he made another Horcrux, but there was only one other thing in that room. One thing for that piece of soul to attach to,”
“No,” Ginny whispers, horrified.
He takes a deep breath. “I was a Horcrux,”
Hermione’s hand squeezes his, and Ron’s body tenses beside him. He looks at both of them, but their faces are neutral. I thought they knew.
“I had to die, and Voldemort was the only one who could do it… and Dumbledore knew,”
“What are you saying, Harry?” Molly asks, her voice tinged with anger. “For how long? Surely he didn’t know…”
“The whole time,” Harry whispers.
“So, how are you here?” Ginny asks desperately. “You’re sitting right here, right? We aren’t all dreaming?”
“No, I’m here,” he assures her. “When Voldemort k- when it happened, he killed the Horcrux. I was in this big white room that looked like a train station. Dumbledore was there, and he told me I could take a train… I think he meant I could stay dead if I wanted, but I didn’t. I came back,”
Ron’s arm drops from the back of the chair to Harry’s shoulders.
“I came back around on the forest floor,” he continues. “Narcissa Malfoy lied to Voldemort that I was dead, and then they-” he looks up at Hagrid.
“They made me carry you,” Hagrid finishes. “But you weren’t dead? You were pretending?”
“I’m sorry, Hagrid,” Harry says, tears leaking.
“Don’t be sorry, Harry,” Hagrid assures him. “I’m just glad to know that I wasn’t actually… worst moment of my life that was,”
“You know the rest,” Harry laughs darkly. “Because I died out of love, you were all protected, just like my mother had done. Neville killed the snake, and I took my moment. And now… now it’s done,”
He leaves out the part about the stone.
They all stare at him in shock, not knowing what to say. Molly breaks the silence first. “You must be mistaken, Harry,” she says. “Dumbledore couldn’t have known, he wouldn’t have-”
“Oh yes, he would have!” Luna shouts, surprising them all. “Albus Dumbledore was a lying, horrible man who didn’t care about anyone but himself,”
“Luna?” Ginny says quietly, looking at her in wonder.
“He was a horrible headmaster! Think of everything he put on our shoulders, on Harry’s shoulders. Not to mention all the bullying and name-calling and house rivalry that he quite frankly encouraged. Do you know how many times I went to him? He was odd like me. I thought he would stop it, but my shoes kept vanishing, my bag kept tearing, and everyone still called me loony!”
“I don’t know about that, dear,” Moly scoffs.
“Look at Neville!” Luna seethes. “Dumbledore knew how horrible Snape was to him and did nothing about it. Look at Ginny! Did anyone get her help after Voldemort was in her head? Or did you just take his word that she was fine?”
“But he said she was fine!”
“Dumbledore wasn’t a healer, mum!” Percy shouts. Harry’s taken aback at the scene before him. “I told you we should have gotten her help!”
“Oh, tell him, Ginny, you’re perfectly fine,”
“I’m not mum,” Ginny says, her voice hard. “I tried to tell you,”
Molly sinks a little at that, looking at Arthur hopelessly. McGonagall clears her throat before any more fights can happen. “Is he really dead, Mr. Potter?” she asks.
“He is,” Harry says firmly.
“Good,” she says, her eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you,”
The two words stun Harry. He doesn't know how to respond.
“So now what?” Charlie asks from the far end of the table.
“I- I don’t know,” he laughs. “For the first time in a long time, I don’t have a plan or an idea or-”
“We rebuild,” Neville says simply. “I’ll do as much as I can to help, Harry,”
“We all will,” Arthur says.
“I don’t know what people expect of me now,” he admits. “I’m still not ready to face anyone official, or if they even-”
“They expect a lot from you,” Percy says with a grim look. “I’ve sort of been pretending that I’m your official ministry coordinator,”
“No pretending, mate, feel free. And?”
“It’s bad,” Percy sighs. “Kingsley is the temporary minister. They're still rounding up death eaters. There will be trials and testimonies and… I think many people think you want to lead,”
“What? No!” Harry exclaims. “I have no desire,”
“If not lead, then an auror at least,” Percy explains. “I’ve had six letters from the department asking when you and Ron are going to be helping them catch everybody,”
“Bloody hell,” Harry groans, trying to slow his breathing. He reaches out and grips Ron’s leg. He’s going to start spiraling.
“I think we can deal with all that tomorrow,” Ron interjects, the first time he’s spoken. “Any more questions?” Everyone stays silent as Ron’s tone implies they should keep their mouths shut. “Then we’re done here,”