A Beautiful Beginning

~Chapter Five~

Sorry for the wait 😅.  I've been a little preoccupied with school, but I've been writing this chapter (with Clarissa editing) for a few days now so hopefully it's decent. Any comments and votes are greatly appreciated by us, and without further ado, we present the next chapter of A Beautiful Beginning :)

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~Time skip to the reconstruction of Hogwarts~

     Minerva McGonagall was a very talented and intelligent witch, and it was with these abilities that she figured if the school was going to reopen by September 1st, there needed to be an extraordinary amount of help. This is how Draco and Harry ended up in one of the dozens of groups set up to help. They just happened to be in the one assigned to clean up what was left of the 7th floor corridor. This would, of course, take several days.

      However, as soon as Harry stepped within the rubble, reality came smashing full force into him, making him want to leave after only one glance around. There were bits of the castle lying about everywhere, the Room of Requirement was pretty much destroyed, but could conveniently be rebuilt into working just as sufficiently as before, and a couple of bodies that hadn't been found yet scattered the hallway. It was almost too much for Harry, but running away was out of the question. After all, that was the cowardly thing to do, and if Harry Potter was anything, he was a brave Gryffindor. A few pieces of brick and a few bodies that he didn't recognize couldn't change that.  Right?  So here Harry was (trying his best not to vomit) carrying a body of a 6th year -what looked to be a Hufflepuff that was in Dumbledore's Army two years ago- down to the Great Hall with the help of Ron. Draco had insisted that he helped Harry, but of course, Harry claimed he and his best friend could manage. The walk to the Great Hall was agonizingly silent as both boys were unsure what to say, even thought it was more like Ron didn't know what to say to comfort his mentally damaged friend, and Harry not wanting to break the silence, knowing the only topic going to be discussed is the fucking war that just happened.

      One of the downsides that came with the awkward silence is it left both boys with their most dark and depressing thoughts. Ron didn't want to think about the fact that Fred was never coming back. That'd he'd never get the chance to hear his older brother laugh and pull jokes anymore. He knew that the moment his family laid eyes upon Fred, lying there lifeless, they kissed the carefree, smiling, mischievous George goodbye. The rest of the family might never feel whole again, and who knows, they could heal with time, but the same couldn't be said about George. He lost his own twin for Merlins sake! Ron had no idea when or if the joke shop would reopen with only half of the owners (now owner) left. However, no matter how oblivious Ron acted, he knew that his grief could never even begin to compare to what was happening inside of his oldest, and best mates head right now. He was -quite unfortunately- correct.

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      Harry tried so hard to stop his thoughts from spiraling to their deepest point.  He knew he couldn't contain them for too much longer, but he just needed to hold them off long enough for Harry to get himself outside. He could already start to feel the beginning of a panic attack coming on, and Harry felt that his brain might just explode from the rate it was working at to process the endless atrocious memories that just wouldn't fucking stop coming. This usually only happened at least once a week, but were becoming more and more frequent; almost too much for Harry's liking. These godawful memories that were set on repeat usually included watching Sirius falling through the veil, hurting Draco in 6th year, all the visions Voldemort had forced into his mind, watching Cedric die in that god forbidden graveyard, Death Eaters everywhere, and as of recently, every single fucking thing that happened in this god damn war. He didn't even realize that they had arrived, and already set the unfortunate Hufflepuff on one of the makeshift cotts dedicated for the dead. It was kind of funny in a fucked up way; Harry was the one who was born to die, but so many others had lost their lives in that process. He hated it with a burning passion. Fuck this, fuck Voldemort, fuck his stupidly complicated life.

   "Hey, Harry, you ok? You look pasty and a bit...sick," commented Ron.

    Ron's comment pulled Harry back in to the Great Hall. Over his, Hermione, and Ron's time running from danger in what would've been their 7th year, Harry had gotten extremely decent at lying. He had been working very hard to be 100% truthful, so he'd simply tell Ron that he was having a mental breakdown and that he needed help.  "Yeah, I'm fine, just need to talk to Professor McGonagall about something concerning reconstruction. I'll be back by lunch. Tell the others to keep working, and to not come looking for me." Old habits die hard.

    Before Ron had the chance to make another remark, or ask another pointless question, Harry rushed out of the castle, and to the only place that he could have his panic attack alone in solitude and drown in his darkness he created for himself afterwards; the Black Lake.  Harry hoped that with any luck the others would be gullible enough to believe the words that would spew out of Ron's mouth. He really -and I mean REALLY- felt like he needed to be alone right now. As Harry approached the Black Lake, his pace was the only thing that slowed. His thoughts, heart rate, breathing, and calmness (if he had any calm left in him) were currently trying to have a race to see which could go the fastest. He only hoped that this stupid panic attack would last less than 5 minutes, but something within Harry -maybe his common sense- whispered that this lie he told himself would not save him from reality again.

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    When Ronald Weasley returned without Harry, Draco was becoming concerned. He kept thinking of all the bad things that could've happened to Harry without him there. Wait, no. This was selfish of him to believe. If Harry was in trouble, surely Weasley would have alerted someone. They were best friends after all. Draco had to repeat these not so calming reassurances in his head, and focus on helping Theo pick up the scattered stone magically. To distract himself from his so called "Harry thoughts," he subtly glanced around at who all was still here since he never got a good look.

     Granger was working with Dean Thomas in spell work to rebuild the walls, Seamus Finnigan and Justin Finch-Fletchly were also helping to clean up rubble, while Hannah Abbot, Pansy, Weasley, She-Weasley, and Harry-wherever he went-were assigned to take the other dead bodies down to the Great Hall.

     However, the pair that caught Draco's eye happened to be Blaise and -surprisingly enough- Longbottom. They were actually having a civil conversation from the looks of it. Knowing Blaise, he was probably super excited about this. Pansy has had a hunch since 5th year that "... wittle itty bitty Bwaise has a crush on an adorably clumsy lion," as she so poetically put it, and dragged Draco into her suspicions a couple years ago,but that's beside the point.

     At least everyone here could pretend to be happy, and use whatever lies they needed to come up with to tell themselves that they were all okay. That's just what you have to do to be a functional human being, and when there's no one else to reassure you that your not fucked up, you have to do it yourself, right? Draco knew for a fact that these lies didn't work for him, because, trust me, he tried, and tried, and tried some more. But. It. Never. Fucking. Worked. Eventually Draco had to move on and accept that he would never be normal again. No one would after this war.

     Suddenly, Weasley announced for all of the workers to hear that Harry needed to talk to McGonagall, that he'd be back by lunch, and that coming to find him was unnecessary. Draco only hoped that was the truth, but his gut instinct told him otherwise. Oh, how Draco wished that his gut was wrong for once. This pathetic reassurance didn't settle any of Draco's nerves as he transfixed his gaze to the spot Weasley had just been.

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