The After Life

No Matter What

Harry ambled along Diagon Alley, peering in at the different shop fronts and thinking what he could spend his gold on to cheer himself up. All the while he was ignoring the inevitable stares and glances directed his way. He was pretty used to all this anyway. Nothing had really changed as far as that was concerned. He'd killed Voldemort once before, and people had wanted to shake his hand and talk to him. This was a new version of that. New faces, new names, new admirers.

But it was the same old story. Inconsiderate bell-ends intruding on his life without so much as a thought for him.

In truth, he didn't really care. Bitterness was just a travelling companion now. It had never truly gone away, but it didn't make him the most approachable celebrity on the circuit. He'd never be a candidate for the Most Charming Smile Award, for he didn't smile a lot these days. Why would he? There wasn't much to smile about at all.

The weather was much nicer down here than up at Hogwarts. That was a fringe benefit. The most beautiful thing in the world happened to be residing at the old castle. Despite his shattered heart, he hadn't lost any of his powerful affection for her. He'd rather be with her in the cloudy highlands, than on his own in the mid-September London sun.

If anything, the absence was making him keener for her still.

It sliced through him that he couldn't have her. He was struggling to wrap his head around it. He'd been trying for five full days now. He was actually counting them. It was hard to get the vision of Ron kissing her from his mind. He wasn't even concerned about Ron's arrogant look. He could forget that easily enough. As far he he was concerned, Ron Weasley was something in his past. The way his oldest friend had changed over the last few years...Harry should have been more prepared for the split.

He supposed he'd just never expected it to happen as it did. Hermione at the heart of it would have been the least expected reason for the end of their friendship. Her ending up with Ron over than him only magnified this. The latest edition of Witch Weekly seemed to support the notion. He'd spotted the cover of the magazine earlier. Inside, apparently, was an expose on the love triangle that was dominating gossip in the wizarding world. The poll of teen witches seemed to favour Harry over Ron. This cheered him up. He almost bought the magazine, but that would have ended up as another front-page story.

Harry decided to treat himself to an ice-cream instead. There wouldn't be many sunny days left for them this Summer. Florean Fortesque's was just up ahead. Harry hadn't enjoyed one his famous Knickerbocker Glories in years. So he bought two. He sat in the sun, his trusty aviators covering his tired eyes, and just enjoyed some simplicity in his complicated life.

He'd forgotten how good the ice-creams were. There must be some magical ingredient weaved in there somewhere. It cheered him up as he made his way through the soft textures. It reminded him of easier times. Well, slightly easier. He watched a couple of elderly witches at the apothecary's opposite haggling over who's turn it was to buy the top-up potion supplies. It was an amusing scene. A young boy was kicking his mother down the street away from Weasleys Wheezes, howling in protest and reminding Harry very much of his cousin Dudley at that age.

"Ex-excuse me?"

Harry was disturbed by a little cough, then an even littler voice nearby. A girl, maybe eight or nine years old, was stood nervously by his table. Harry looked at her warily. He rather expected what was to come. He braced himself for it. The little girl was meek and shy, shaking down to her braided pigtails. Harry softened at the sight of her.

"Hello."

"Are...are you Harry Potter?"

"Yes, yes I am."