Estella's feet hit solid ground again; her knees buckled a little and the golden wizard's head fell with a resounding clunk to the floor. She looked around and saw that she had arrived in her grandfather's office.
Everything seemed to have repaired itself during his absence. The delicate silver instruments stood up again upon the spindle-legged tables, puffing and whirring serenely. The portraits of headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing in their frames, heads lolling back in armchairs or against the edge of their pictures. Estella looked through the window. There was a cool line of pale green along the horizon: Dawn was approaching.
They'd fought all night.
The silence and the stillness, broke only by the occasional grunt or scuffle of a sleeping portrait, was almost unbearable. If her surroundings could have reflected the feelings inside her, the pictures would have been screaming in anger. She walked around the quiet, beautiful office, and took a seat in an armchair by Dumbledore's desk.
Harry sat down next to her, not speaking.
"It's not your fault, Harry," she said softly.
He couldn't bring himself to look at her.
"It is, you were right. Sirius was never even there and Voldemort had put the images in my head because he knew I love playing the hero..."
"We never meant it like that and you know that," she said quickly. "Voldemort knew how much he meant to you and he used it against you. That is not your fault!"
"It is, Estella," he said, still refusing to look at her.
She looked at him. "Harry, look at me."
He did. His green eyes were swarming with tears.
"It's not your fault, Harry. I've replayed the entire night in my head. Yes, things could've been done very differently. We should've gone to Snape first, Hermione and I both forgot about him but everything else we did was right. We made a plan and followed it to the best of our abilities. I told you someone would die and you didn't listen. I don't blame you Harry and neither does anyone else who was in that room...and neither does Sirus, Harry," she said, and she meant it.
"You should blame me. If I had listened to you and Hermione-"
"Stop it with the "ifs," Harry. It happened, it's done. Next time you know to listen and now you know the importance of the difference between real and reality. It is not your fault that Sirius is dead. He did not want to come back, Harry-" her voice broke and her throat felt so dry that it hurt.
"He did not want to come back, Harry. It is not your fault in any way, shape, or form. I tried so hard and he wouldn't come back," she said, crying now.
She quickly whipped her face and Harry moved in front of her.
"If it's not my fault then it's sure not your fault," he said, pulling her hands away from her face and wiping her tears.
"I know," she sobbed. "I-I-he didn't want to come back, Harry! Why didn't he want to come back?"
"I get that he couldn't leave the house and I get that everyone thought he murdered his twin, his brother, your mother, and a dozen innocent Muggles but he had us, Harry and he was so close to having his name cleared!"
"Hey, hey, hey," he said, taking her hands into his own and taking a deep breath to clear his shaking voice. "He wasn't living and he missed the people he loved."
Harry shrugged and tears fell from his green eyes. "I wouldn't want to live if I'd lost Ron, Hermione, and you," he said earnestly.
It was her turn to wipe his tears.
YOU ARE READING
Future Nostalgia / Harry Potter Fanfic
Fanfiction"He'd do it again if it meant she got the chance to live." "He looked at her, actually looked at her, and wondered how anyone who saw her, didn't fall in love with her." "A trade was to be made." "Friendship was going to be the only way to get throu...
