Underneath the Mistletoe

ChapterFiftyEight

A/n : as some of you may have noticed last chapter didn't take place around Christmas and that's just because everyday feels the same for Draco since he's in hiding and one day just turns into another and he's kind of lost track of time. Also I didn't want to muck around with Harry's pov of it because I really like how JKR has it in DH.

Harry's POV
-AfterBattle-

He sat with a group of students that had all been members of Dumbledores Army back in fifth year. Ron and Hermione had immediately sat at his side when he'd slid down against the wall. Neville and Luna, appearing haggard and run down with their clothes a tattered mess, had joined them, seating themselves across from the trio not long after. Dean and Seamus, looking dead on their feet, had silently taken up a spot with them as well. Parvati and her sister Padma had stumbled over, with tears in their eyes and dirt on their faces, and sat not too much farther away. They were all clearly drained. While other students, family members, witches and wizards moved about Hogwarts the group of them sat quietly just drawing comfort from being around one another.

The castle was a mess of broken stone, torn tapestries, shattered glass, and empty or shell shocked paintings. They were sitting away from the Great Hall where the dead lay. Harry sat with the others but curled back into himself. While Neville and Luna exchanged a few consoling words, Dean and Seamus whispered to one another, and the twins cried with relief and grief. All of them were devastated over those they'd lost but beyond grateful for those that had survived. Harry sat still and silent. They all seemed to sense his need to be physically with them but mentally left alone to come to terms with all that had happened. A large part of him felt as if a weight that had been weighing down on him since his youth had finally been lifted away. That weight had been the presence of Voldemort and the pressing sense of fast approaching doom. But that was gone. He never had to worry about it again. For that he was of course grateful, but he was also confused.

What was he to do with himself, his life? It was like the absence of a bag after a day of wearing it, the weight had weighed him down while it had been there but now that it was gone things felt off. Not necessarily in a bad way, the death and darkness was gone. But it was weird, something that might take awhile to get used to. He was no longer 'The Chosen One.' He was just Harry.

Suddenly an eagle owl swept in through an empty window, the glass had been smashed away during the battle and now lay on the floor. Recognition flooded through Harry and he stared at the owl as it landed on a nearby stair case railing. He stood, legs wobbling with exhaustion as they supported him, and moved stiffly to greet the owl with a small tired smile. Harry slowly and carefully untied the letter from the owls leg and moved back to his spot with his friends to read it. None of them asked who it was from, however he knew Ron and Hermione were familiar with the Malfoy owl, and perhaps the other suspected.

Upon reading the letter he tucked it back into the envelope and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. It was some time before he opened them again. Over the last few months he'd missed Draco a great deal. But with all the moving around and constant worry for himself and his friends he hadn't let himself think about things that hadn't been an immediate worry. It would have consumed him otherwise. He remembered the night in the tent that he'd promised to himself that he would focus on the present and not the past or future.

{flashback}

Harry lay in his cot, staring up at the blank fabric of the tent ceiling. He had woken up from a nightmare and hadn't been able to fall back to sleep. This wasn't the first time sleep had effectively evaded him and it was visible from the purple bags beneath his eyes. His head thrummed from the lack of sleep and Harry already knew that it was going to be a tough day to push through. He wasn't sure what time it was but for the last hour or so the darkness outside the tent had been lightening.

It wasn't one of his usual nightmares, one of the ones with Voldemort in it. Nor was it one with solid events occurring. It was one where a bubble of fear began to build in Harry and images began to flash through his head before they scared him awake. Then for the rest of the day he would walk around with a feeling of dread or anxiety. He'd had a lot of them in sixth year.

He'd seen flashes of Ron and Hermione's terrified faces as they thrashed in the arms of Death Eaters. Voldemort raising his wand and yelling the killing curse before green filled his vision. Flashes of friends being tortured with an assortment of curses. Heard shrieks of pain and bellows of rage. Molly sobbing over the lifeless body of one of her red headed children. Watched as Neville was hit by a curse that made him grip his throat as he coughed for air and fell to his knees as his face turned pink, red, blue, purple. Ginny being chained down and forced to watch as a faceless Death Eater slapped a defenceless Luna across the face before promptly pulling her head back by her dirty blonde hair and using a knife to slice open her skin. Heads being slammed against walls. Bones cracking. Blood running. Blood curdling screams filling his head. A fresh ache of loss filled him as an image of Sirius, roaring with laughter, filled his head. Then he saw Draco's terror filled eyes meet his. Harry's heart stopped in his chest. Dark billowing shadows spread and rolled across Draco, pulling him back into the darkness.

Pushing himself up onto his elbows Harry waited for Ron or Hermione to stir from their deep slumber, but neither did. So he sat up fully, his weight causing the springs of the cot to squeak loudly beneath him. Taking a breath he stood fully and stretched his arms above his head, his back cracked. He pulled his shoes on over his thick socks and shoved his hands into his coat as he pushed back the tent flap. Crisp air met his skin and Harry breathed it in as it chased back the images of his nightmare. He needed to focus. It was because of nightmares like this that he wasn't getting enough sleep at night and then couldn't concentrate when daylight came.

It was at that moment, as he scuffed his sneaker over dead dried out leaves on the ground, that he'd decided to block out everything but the present. He'd blocked out the memories of Draco, of his peers, of the Weasleys, of Sirius and Remus, of the Order. Ruminating and overthinking would get him absolutely nowhere.

{back to present}

But as Harry opened his eyes and took in the broken castle and his friends who were beaten down but alive he realized that he no longer had to push back all the memories. And as they all flooded back to him he realized that they caused him joy now, not only pain. He remembered his early days at Hogwarts with his housemates. Getting to know the Gryffindor boys over games of chess, which Ron usually won but were great fun all the same. He remembered the trouble they got into with his Fathers invisibility cloak and the Marauders Map. The detentions they'd gotten into with Filch and the lectures from Professor McGonagall that they'd sniggered over later on. The classes he and Ron had spent bored out of their minds and scribbling notes to one another. The way they'd all laughed over Gilderoy Lockhart and how self absorbed he'd been. All the Christmases he'd spent with Draco in front of a fireplace. Harry's eyes filled with nostalgic tears as he remembered all the Quidditch games he'd spent up in the air on his broom with the wind in his hair. All the celebrations and parties afterward. All the last minute essays, crooked ties, sleepy eyes, unmade beds. Getting his Hogsmeade permission form signed by Sirius. Tears slid down his cheeks as he remembered his strong willed Godfather. The life they should have had together. The memories he should have been able to make with his Fathers best friend. Harry's shoulders shook and he burried his face in his hands. Not just Sirius, he should have been able to make memories with Remus too. How different his life would have been if only he'd been 'Just Harry' from the very start. If Neville had been The Chosen One opposed to him.

But that wasn't how it had worked out. This was his life. He had the Weasleys for family. He had Ron and Hermione for best friends. He had Draco. He had a vault full of gold instead of his parents. He had been The Chosen One. That's how things had worked out.

Harry wiped at his eyes with the heels of his hands and sighed. He was sure that his eyes were blood shot and his face splotchy and red. Despite all the pain there had been great joy. Despite all the death there was life. So many had died yet so many had lived. There had been life before and there would be life after. Perhaps the ache and loss would never quite leave his chest but over time it would fade. Time. Something he had so much of now.

Just then Hermione lay a warm hand on Harry's forearm, a silent question, asking if he was okay. He met her gaze and she seemed to understand the look. No, right now he was hurting tremendously just like the rest of them. But he would be. He'd be okay. They all would.