Empty Spaces

Chapter 14

- Harry -

It was something Hagrid said that had prompted him to ask.

In many ways, Harry was reminded of his first year at Hogwarts. He was lost all over again, unsure of himself, navigating a world filled with everyone else's expectations and no idea how to fulfill any of them. And so he found himself returning to one of the few places that had remained a constant source of reassurance and stability in his life: Hagrid's hut.

He couldn't visit often-- they were both busy with classes and Hagrid was still repairing many parts of the school grounds-- but each time was a welcome escape from an otherwise inescapable world. And then Hagrid gave him a bit of advice that managed to strike someplace deep, someplace no one else had been able to reach this year.

War changes things, an' people, Harry. Time does too. It's jus' the way o' the world I guess. There's nothin' wrong with comin' out o' everythin' yeh been though an' feelin' like yer a whole differen' person. Yeh're still the same, even though yeh're not. An' that's okay. But once yeh stop lookin' back and start lookin' front, things have a way of fallin' into place. Thing is, yeh gotta be there to catch 'em.

He'd known for a while that the war had changed him. But it was comforting to hear it from Hagrid– Past Harry was Past Harry, and while Past Harry was fine and all, Past Harry was gone. He'd become someone to let go of, just like he'd had to let go of his parents... and Sirius... and Lupin... Maybe he really had died on the battlefield after all. Or at least, Past Harry died. But Present Harry survived.

Malfoy was struggling– he put on a good face, but Harry knew better than anyone what struggling looked like. Felt like. So he told Past Harry to go fuck himself and Present Harry reached out, only to have his suspicions confirmed.

He watched Malfoy turn and stride away, bag in hand, before getting up and following.

"What do you want now?" Malfoy asked, willpower clearly beginning to wane.

"You deserve better," Harry said, figuring he might as well get it out in the open. "Just... you know, in case you needed to hear it from someone."

"Don't even start," Malfoy dismissed, avoiding Harry's eye and continuing on towards the gates.

"Hey–" Harry threw all caution to the wind and caught Malfoy's left wrist, stopping him, "I'm not going to tell you what to do with your life, sleep with whoever the hell you want, but if he hurts you, you come to me."

"What's that going to do??" Malfoy's sneer couldn't hide the pain behind his eyes.

"Just promise," Harry said, keeping his hold on Malfoy's wrist.

"Sorry, Potter," Malfoy replied bitterly, "Can't do that."

"Why the hell not?"

"Malfoys don't make promises they can't keep," Malfoy pulled his hand back, now looking Harry in the eye, "And they also don't keep a certain sort of... company... so if you breathe a word of any of this conversation to anyone, Granger included, I will hex you. And it won't be pretty."

He turned on his heel and apparated the moment he set foot outside the grounds.

Well. This is what happens when you get involved, and you had to choose to get involved. Good job, Present Harry. Now what the hell are you going to do?

Making a general resolve to keep an eye on Malfoy, but also knowing that he wasn't likely to get anything more out of him tonight, Harry made his way back inside. Maybe there would be something left in the Great Hall for dinner... what else could he do?

"Hey Harry," Ron materialized at his side, "Everything okay? You're usually not still on campus this late."

"Yea, just going to get some food," Harry replied, trying not to sound too distracted. "Want to come?"

"I already ate, but yea, I'll come if you want the company," Ron said, sounding happily surprised. "I could go back for another one of those puddings..." Harry supposed they weren't spending anywhere near as much time together as they used to. It was like Hagrid said: War changes things, and so does time. Ron was still Ron, but the unavoidable truth was that they were drifting apart. Harry knew it. Ron knew it. Could they both accept it though?

They found a spot at the far end of Gryffindor table, and Harry was relieved to see the dinner crowd thinning as students headed off to their dorms and evening activities.

"How are things?" Harry asked, picking up an empty plate and piling it full of whatever he could find. "Quidditch going okay? Looks like Ginny hasn't worked anyone to death yet."

"It's only a matter of time," Ron replied as he helped himself to a pudding, "Actually, I'm thinking of leaving."

"That bad??" Harry had a hard time imagining Ron bailing on her, no matter how many sunrise practices Ginny subjected him to.

"No, not the team, well, yes, I'll leave the team too, but leaving everything. School," Ron explained. "Probably not until after the holidays, but Geroge is swamped with the shop right now, and he's on his own. Percy was helping him for a little while, but you know Percy. He's got bigger plans than a joke shop, and let's face it, nobody in their right mind would ever be able to put up working with him for long. Charlie's back in Romania and Bill is busy being married. So that leaves me. It's alright, though, I wasn't sure I wanted to come to school anyway. Told Mum I'd at least start but no promises on finishing. George didn't finish, and he's managed to make it work just fine."

"That... that's a lot, mate," Harry mused over some cold chicken, "Does anyone else know yet?"

"No, still just thinking about it," Ron replied.

"I think if it's something you want to do, go for it," Harry said. "But make sure you're doing it for you. I mean, yes, for George too, but it's got to be something you're okay with. Like, really okay with."

"Yea, I know what you mean," Ron said, considering this. "School isn't what I thought it would be, though. I don't know what I was expecting, really, but it's definitely not what it was before..."

"No, definitely not," Harry agreed before launching into what he hoped was a passable reiteration of Hagrid's advice from earlier. War changes things. Time does too. Ron listened, nodding, appreciative.

"Mental, right?" he said at last, "We won the war... Everything was supposed to be okay after that. I mean, I guess it is in some way, we're still here and all, but we're not really us anymore, are we?"

Harry thought back to what Malfoy said earlier. No Quidditch, no Defense, no friends... it was like everything that made Harry Harry had lost all meaning and value after the war.

"Yea..."

"Which is why I think leaving is the right thing to do," Ron said, a look of resolve taking over, "You said it. There's no going back, just moving forward. Anyway, I've got to take off, Ginny's got us going over Quidditch strategies almost every night now... but thanks, mate. Appreciate it."

Ron headed out, leaving Harry alone once more.

On an inexplicable whim, he brought out his Firebolt that evening. Past Harry liked flying. Does Present Harry still like it too?

He kicked off the ground, the world falling away below his feet, the icy wind whipping at his hair as he rose up towards the clouds. He did a few circles, then flew over the lake and across the valley, letting everything– Malfoy, Ron, school, all of it– disappear behind him in his wake. The sun set and the Hogsmeade lights began to twinkle below him, growing larger as he began his descent.

Alright, so it turns out Present Harry still likes flying. Maybe Present Harry and Past Harry aren't so different after all.