One Shots (SLOW UPDATES)

Harry x McGonagall (Platonic)

Harry stumbled against the roots of the Whomping Willow and dodged the branches that came flying next to him. Tears burned his eyes. He couldn't see anything, and he fell to his knees in despair. Somehow, the Whomping Willow stood behind him. Had he crawled?

Harry was fine today. It was the first day back to classes after Dumbledore's death, and everything seemed good. He didn't break down in any class, and Ron and Hermione and Ginny were with him every step of the way. However, when he went to bed, everything went downhill. He dreamed about Dumbledore. He seemed happy in the dream. He looked so alive.

Harry buried his hands into his eyes to try to stop the tears from flowing. He didn't want to break down. He thought he was fine. But he wasn't because Dumbledore was one of the first people who truly cared about Harry. He embodied Hogwarts. How could he continue going to school if Dumbledore wasn't there?

"Harry?"

His head swiveled to the sound of footsteps walking toward him. Robes billowed out from the person in front of him. He didn't have the strength to look up, though. He kept his eyes trained forward as the person bent down.

"Harry, what's the matter?" McGonagall said softly.

Harry struggled to speak. His throat was tight, but he managed, "I miss him."

"Who, dear?"

"Dumbledore."

McGonagall wrapped an arm around his shoulder, her wrinkled face pinched. "This has been hard for everyone," she said. "But for you, dear, I think it's been the hardest."

"How could you tell?"

Her mouth lifted up in a slight smile before settling into a thin line. "You have lost so many people in your short span of life."

He nodded. Those people flashed across his mind: his parents and Sirius Black and Cedric Diggory and now Albus Dumbledore. 

No one else would die for him. He wouldn't allow it. "He knew he was dying, didn't he?" 

McGonagall sighed, sitting down next to Harry. "Yes."

They sat in silence. Harry looked across the land. He could picture Dumbledore everywhere his eyes focused on. Hogwarts looked lonely without anyone out and about. A light burned in some windows, like people were still doing their homework. He should've been in his room. He shouldn't have been on the grounds, crying about someone who died. 

Why did everything happen to Harry? First, he lost his parents when he was a baby. He had barely known his parents. All he knew about them was what other people told him. Losing Sirius reminded him of the pain of losing a parent. Sirius loved him like a son, but he died, too. Finally, Dumbledore. 

McGonagall shifted next to him and slipped her hand into her pocket. She pulled a pack of cigarettes out and lit one up, pressing it up against her lips. She caught Harry looking at her and said, "Don't tell anyone about this."

He nodded. "Can I have one?"

"Absolutely not!"

That drew a small smile to his face. But it fell off as fast as it came on. How could he be happy when people lost their lives because of him? He sighed and pushed his hair off of his forehead. He traced his finger across the scar on his forehead absentmindedly.

"Harry, I know this is hard for you right now," McGonagall said softly. "But we need you."

"Who needs me? Everyone that ever loved me is dead!"

"That's not true." McGonagall shook her head. "What about Ron? Or Hermione? Or Ginny?" She paused before whispering, "Or me?"

He shrugged, pulling blades of grass out of the dirt. Those were easy to kill. Just like people. 

"It will get better," McGonagall said slowly. 

"When?"

"Not yet." She paused. "We have to look toward the light, Harry. Don't you see it?"

"No."

She sighed, her head dropping. "I miss him, too. Sirius too. And your parents."

Harry closed his eyes. He was so tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of being sad. Tired of life. Tired of hope.