After walking past a few more shops, Hermione suggested they stop somewhere for lunch. Harry insisted he be the one to choose the place.
He passed by several indoor restaurants, not wanting to get stuck inside an unfamiliar place, and ultimately decided on somewhere with outdoor seating, only after confirming they could have the table at the end of the row, which was tucked against a blank wall and gave Harry the chance to look out at the entire street.
Hermione didn't comment on his paranoid behavior. She knew he got like this when he was stressed, disappearing into the comfort of "Auror mode," where he felt capable and in control. Plus, she had to admit, his fear wasn't completely unfounded. She shuddered as she remembered the hunched man with the necklace. She didn't want to know what would have happened if Harry hadn't been with her.
After the waiter brought their tea and took their food orders—and after Harry finished scanning the area several times and confirmed they were in no immediate danger, he turned to Hermione. "Okay. How about you tell me the thing now?"
She took a sip of her tea, then let out a large sigh, bracing herself for what she knew was going to be a difficult conversation, especially with Harry's sour mood. But she may as well tell him since he was bound to find out sooner or later.
"Okay. But you can't yell, or even do the silent seething thing. And you definitely can't give me the cold shoulder for the rest of the day. Okay?"
"How bad is this?"
She waved her hand dismissively. "It's nothing bad, I just know you."
Harry crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. "Okay, Hermione. Out with it." He was determined to react maturely to whatever news she had for him and show her that the stupid, emotionally dense Harry was a person from their past.
When Hermione didn't speak for a full minute, Harry said, "I'm ready whenever you are."
"Give me a second. I'm trying to decide where to start."
"Start anywhere. Come on, you're scaring me."
"Fine," Hermione huffed. "I'm not going to be allowed to be an Unspeakable anymore."
"What?"
"They're going to fire me," she said bluntly.
"Why?!"
"For this trip! Why else? Not only have I broken a thousand rules, but I brought you along, which is just another thousand rules broken. The point is, once I file my report, and I can't get out of that. They'll know how long I spent in the portal. Even though no time will have passed in that world, they have ways of keeping tabs on us and what we do in the Department of Mysteries. After they read the report, they'll label me too risky and cut me loose."
"But—what?! Why didn't you tell me?!"
"I said no yelling."
Harry sighed and said in a lower voice, "Why didn't you tell me earlier? Right at the beginning. Is this—is this the same thing with the injury? You were too worried about upsetting me?" Harry felt sick at that thought. Certainly he wasn't that bad. Was he? Shit, he didn't know anymore.
Hermione gave his hands a comforting squeeze. "It wasn't that, Harry. I'd lost the job the moment I decided to bring you here. Extending the trip from one day to fourteen...it didn't matter at that point."
"What? I don't—I don't understand." Harry shifted his chair closer to her. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I am so thankful to you for bringing me here, but why did you do it?"
Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and dropped her head. She looked like she wanted to curl up and disappear. Harry placed a hand on her shoulder. "Please," he whispered. "Can you tell me why?"
He recalled their first night in the Enchanted Forest, when she admitted why she'd taken the job in the first place. Because she was searching for something she felt was missing in her life. And now, she'd given it up? For what?
"There's this Unspeakable, Miller. That's not his real name, of course, far too common for a wizard like that. But we all call him Miller. And he—he's one of the best. I've always looked up to him. Anyway, I was asking him once, what he does when he gets stuck on a problem and said when he's well and truly stuck, and can see no way out, he burns it all down and starts again."
When Hermione finally looked back up at Harry, her gaze was fierce. "That's what you were doing?" he asked. "Just—sabotaging yourself so you'll be forced to start over and pick another job?"
She shrugged. "I guess so. It works for Miller and he's brilliant. Though slightly mad. I think all geniuses are like that."
Harry gathered her hands up, propped his elbows on the table, and bent down to kiss her knuckles. Bloody hell. She was a mess. No wonder she'd been so stressed the past few days. When she returned home, she wasn't going to have a job. That would be hard for anyone, but this was Hermione, who lived for her work.
Harry's chest clenched. He recognized a lot of himself in her. The way that even after the war was over, and everyone was supposed to be happy, she longed for more. The way she suffered in silence and pretended she was okay, even with her closest friends. And the way she'd convinced herself she had to do everything alone.
"Hermione?" Harry asked gently.
"Yeah?"
"Have you ever mentioned any of this to Ron?"
He wasn't surprised when she shook her head. "I'm the one who solves things," she said softly. "That's my thing. And this—this is my problem; my issue to sort out. Ron wouldn't understand."
Harry sighed and dropped his head, resting his forehead against her hands. It was so obvious what was going on here, but clearly, not obvious to her. He took another breath before looking back up at her. "Remember how angry you were with me for going into the Forbidden Forest to face Voldemort alone?"
She nodded.
"This is that, but to a lesser degree."
She tried to pull her hands out of his, but he tightened his grip. "Hear me out. You're struggling, maybe even hurting a bit, and you're doing it all alone. Even though you have people in your life who'd be more than willing to help—who are actually a bit offended you've not asked. But you've convinced yourself you have to do this alone. For no logical reason, as far as I can see."
She just bit her lip and focused down on their hands.
"I know why you didn't come to me, we've covered that, but I know Ron would want to know. And he should since you're going to be married in a few months. So, I don't know, maybe you can tell him everything you told me when you're back?"
Hermione nodded. Blinking quickly to keep from crying in the middle of the busy street.
"Believe me, I get wanting to do everything alone. But you don't have to do that. Okay?"
"Same applies to you," she whispered.
Harry's lips turned up slightly. "I know. So, the next time you're feeling desperate, you should bring it up at our weekly lunch or dinner—which we're going to institute as soon as we're back. And I'll do the same."
"Sounds like a plan."
"Yeah, and we both know how much you love a plan." Harry leaned forward and pulled her into a hug. "Speaking of plans, maybe later today, when you're looking less broken, we can brainstorm new jobs for you."
She laughed into his shoulder. "Okay."
The food arrived and they gave up on the heavy conversation for a while. They people-watched and returned to their game of picking out all the cats they could find in the crowd. After they finished their lunch and put money on the table to cover the check, Hermione began to stand, but Harry caught her arm. "I have a question."
"Okay."
"Why did you think I was going to be angry about your job?"
"Oh." She dropped his gaze. "It's just something you do."
"What is?"
Hermione sighed. "I knew you'd blame yourself and a lot of times, when you're feeling uncomfortable like that, you lash out at the people around you. Usually me."
Harry dropped her arm. He felt like he'd been stung. Ever since she'd pointed out his occasional tendency to behave like a shit friend, it was as if the flood gates were open and she was determined to highlight every inadequacy she could find in him.
Hermione sat back on her chair and sighed again. "That was overly harsh," she admitted. "Sorry. I'm in a bad mood."
"Are you the only one allowed to point out the other's flaws, or can I do it too?" he challenged in a slightly teasing tone.
"I don't know what you could possibly have to say. Wasn't it you who said I had very few bad qualities?"
"I meant what I said on that hill," Harry said. "Especially the part where I said I loved you, even the bad parts, which is something you should keep in mind while I say this next thing."
"Fine." She crossing her arms over her chest. "Get on with it."
"I told you I was going to try to be a better friend, but I'm worried you're not going to give me a chance to be. You know everything and have a tendency to stick the things in your life in neat little categories. And for years, you had me in the one labeled—what was the phrase? The emotional range of a teacup?"
"Teaspoon," she corrected, "and I said that to Ron."
Harry let out a small laugh. "I'm sure it applied to me too. But my point is, one day I'm going to be better than that. But if you keep expecting me to behave badly and treat me like a dullard, we're not going to be able to get past it."
She was quiet, her brow furrowed, and Harry let her think about what he'd said for a few moments. "Yeah," she said grudgingly. "I see what you're saying."
"I still want you to call me out and tell me when I'm being an idiot. But maybe, after I've done the bad thing, not before. And, er, for things I've done in the past few days and not, like, three years ago?"
"Yes," she said, her lips turning up. "I can do that."
Harry held his hand out and she shook it without hesitation. "Sorry, Harry."
"You apologize too much."
"Maybe, but this one was warranted."
Harry shrugged and stood up. "Okay, that was a heavy lunch."
"Heavy day," she countered.
"Heavy week."
Hermione leaned in and muttered, "I have a feeling it's going to get worse."
"Normally, saying that sort of thing out loud would be bad luck, but…"
"It's us," she finished for him. "How much worse can our luck get?"
"Now you're really pushing it," he teased.
She gave him a slightly wild look that said, "Bring it on, universe," and he wondered if maybe she had a bit of that madness in her that most geniuses had.
As if in response to Hermione's comment about their luck, a driverless cart overflowing with clinking vials nearly ran them off the road as they were walking back to the exit of the bazaar. Harry grabbed Hermione and dove for a nearby alley, glad they weren't in one of the narrow parts of the street. They fell into a heap on the ground. Harry had to wait for Hermione to rise to a sitting position before he could pull himself up.
"This is what happens when you tempt fate," he scolded.
She wasn't paying attention. She was focused on something behind Harry. He turned to see a large, bottle-green snake slithering out of a wicker basket. His first instinct was to try to talk to it and command it to leave them alone. That didn't work, because this Harry wasn't a Parseltongue.
Hermione erected a Shield Charm across the alley, effectively closing off the snake's access to them. After tapping its head against the shield a few times, the snake lost interest and returned to its basket.
Hermione looked at Harry and had one eyebrow raised. "Did you try to talk to it?"
He just shrugged, feeling slightly embarrassed that he hadn't thought of the Shield Charm first.
"So, you miss that part too?" she smirked. "Getting to order snakes around?"
"Are you asking me if I miss being imbued with a bit of Voldemort's power?" he replied sharply. "That's the same as asking if I miss my scar or the fact that my parents are dead."
Her mouth fell open slightly. He was about to apologize for snapping at her when she burst into laughter. She doubled over, grabbing her stomach, and was laughing so hard, she seemed to be having trouble breathing.
Harry was very confused. "Er...Hermione?"
"Sorry," she forced out. "I know it's awful to laugh at… but you were so serious… and it was just a stupid joke… of course you don't miss talking to snakes." She laughed more and Harry leaned back on his palms and smiled as he watched her completely fall apart.
"I don't know why I can't stop," she said when she regained a bit of control, wiping tears away with the back of her hand. "I think I've been so sad today, I've finally cracked."
Harry, who was laughing by now, knew exactly how she felt. "No need to apologize," he replied as she leaned her back against the stone wall and continued laughing silently, her smile wide and her eyes still shining with tears of mirth. He smiled, wider than he had all day, and thought to himself that he could watch Hermione laughing with abandon like this forever.
Once they were back at the campsite, Hermione pulled Harry to the side. "Hey, uh, I have to tell you something."
"What?"
"When your mum was talking to me earlier, she wanted me to talk to you about your dad."
"What about him?"
"Uh, he's upset about Sirius, like I said, and she thinks it'll be good for you to talk to him. She wanted me to try to convince you to do so."
Harry swore and began pacing the area, rubbing the back of his neck. "I can't," he muttered, more to himself than Hermione. "I wouldn't know the first place to start."
He swore again, then took a seat on a large rock. He pulled his legs up and dropped his head against his knees, trying not to cry as he imagined his dad grieving in the tent somewhere, waiting in vain for his son to come comfort him.
"Harry," Hermione said gently. "You loved Sirius too. You can just—talk about him generally, without details, and your dad will know you're sincere. That will be enough."
"I didn't ask your opinion on this, did I?" he bit back, talking into his knees.
He heard Hermione sigh, then swore again. "I just did it, didn't I?" he groaned. "Took my frustration out on you." He looked up and found her crouched in front of him, eyes wide and sad. "Don't downgrade me to the 'teaspoon' category again, please? I—I'm trying and—"
She reached out and cupped his cheek. "Oh, Harry."
He was relieved to see her smiling.
"You're allowed to snap at people. Lord knows I do it all the time. Also, for the record, I don't think you have the emotional range of a teaspoon. Or even a teacup. I think you have a giant emotional range and just struggle to deal with it, which is completely understandable, given everything."
Hermione leaned forward and kissed his forehead, then pulled herself back up to her feet. "Take some time," she said, patting him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine, no matter what you decide. And if you need me, I'll be in the tent."
When Harry finally worked up the courage to talk to his dad, it took him a little while to find him. First, he went to the tent and spotted Hermione and his mum in the kitchen, working on what looked like an elaborate dinner. When Harry told his mum he was looking for his dad, she abandoned the pastry dough she was rolling out and threw her arms around Harry, covering him in flour.
After cleaning the flour away with her wand, Lily told Harry his dad had gone for a walk. She offered to send her Patronus for him, but Harry waved her away. "It's okay, Mum. I don't mind a walk."
He turned to Hermione before leaving and she mouthed, "Good luck," before focusing back on the vegetables she was chopping with her wand.
After walking around the lake at the center of the oasis, Harry was about to give up his search and send a Patronus. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and gave the area a final sweeping glance, then he spotted him. James had climbed one of the palm trees that was bent over the water. He was lounging with his back against the trunk of the tree, looking out at the lake.
Harry smiled. His dad would be up there, instead of sitting on one of the countless rocks surrounding the water. Harry had only known his dad for a few days, but he'd learned that he had a flair for dramatics. Harry approached the tree and called, "Is there room up there for one more?"
James peeked his head over the tree trunk and smiled down at Harry. "Of course. Come on up."
Harry moved his wand to the back pocket of his jeans, so he could grab it quickly if he needed to. He started climbing the trunk, using the shallow ridges as hand and footholds. Luckily, he only had to make it about six feet up before the tree bent over. Then, he got to his feet and walked along the trunk like a balance beam until he reached his dad, who had shifted so he was sitting on the trunk with his legs hanging over the edge. Harry carefully took a seat next to him.
"Impressive," James said once Harry had settled into his seat. "I tried that way first, then ended up Levitating myself up."
"Cheater," Harry teased.
"Are you going to give me one of Hermione and Lily's speeches about the plight of Muggles? Point out how hard it is for them to go through life without magic? Having to climb trees on their own, without the security of knowing they could catch themselves with a spell if they slipped."
"I'll think I'll spare you."
James leaned into Harry. "Thanks."
They were quiet for a few moments as they watched the lake, then James let out a small laugh. "I still remember that time when you were about six or seven. Lily had asked you to clean your room and as you remember—she always made you do chores the Muggle way, insistent that you learn how to go through life without magic—at least until you got your wand. Do you remember what you told her?"
Harry shook his head, figuring it was safe not to remember something from so long ago.
"You said, 'Mum, you don't even like Muggles. You're always complaining about your sister and her family, yet you want us to pretend to be like them.' That gave her quite a shock, since we didn't know you were listening in when we talked about them. Then you finished with, 'I know the incantation if you need help with the Cleaning Spell.'"
"I said all that?" Harry couldn't help but laugh. There was something so satisfying about hearing that his parents disliked his aunt and uncle.
"Yeah. I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. I was supposed to look stern, you know? Lily was struggling not to laugh, too. You were such a cheeky kid." He turned and winked at Harry before adding, "Pretty cheeky adult, too."
"I wonder where I got that from."
James laughed again. "It turned out though, didn't it? All that Muggle education your mum forced on you. You probably wouldn't have befriended Hermione—gone against the rest of your housemates, who were determined to hate her—if you hadn't had your mum pestering you about being especially kind to Muggleborns."
"You're probably right." Harry smiled as he thought of Hermione and how she'd been as a First Year. So even in this world, she'd been intense, which made sense, since nothing would have been different for her at the start of school. He was glad the other Harry had befriended her and managed to calm her down a bit.
"How was Cairo?" James asked. "Did we miss anything?"
"Not really. The magical part was pretty cool, though a little hard to find. It was a big bazaar. Like a larger, more exotic Diagon Alley. And there were more cats."
"Live ones this time?"
Harry let out a laugh. "Yeah. As far as we could tell."
James just hummed.
"What did you do back here?" Harry asked tentatively.
"Felt sorry for myself," James sighed, "and tried to use all my willpower to keep from going back to that temple to get another ten minutes." He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. "We should have gone into the city with you. At least it would have been a nice distraction. But I knew I wouldn't be good company today."
"I wouldn't have minded," Harry said kindly. "I wasn't good company, and neither was Hermione, for that matter. We're both in sour moods for—er—obvious reasons."
"Yeah." James dropped his hand from his face and turned toward Harry again. "I was thinking… How about we leave tonight, after dinner? I wouldn't mind putting several thousand miles between us and that tear. It'll keep me from obsessing about going back. What do you think Hermione will say? Can you get her to loosen the reins a bit? I'll alter the Portkey again. Though, after she made me show her the spell six times, I'm betting she can do it herself."
"I'll talk to her," Harry nodded. "She said we're just camping in South America, so arriving a day early shouldn't be a problem."
"Brilliant. Thanks."
Another silence settled between them, this one a lot longer than the last one. Harry was wondering if he should be saying something, or if it was normal for him and his dad to sit quietly like this. He hated how he didn't know and cursed the other Harry for the thousandth time for getting to live this life.
It was James who ultimately broke the silence. "How are you?" he asked, leaning into Harry. "How did you handle the visit? I should have asked you earlier."
Harry's mouth went dry. He'd only planned to talk about what his dad had seen at the Tear in the Veil, but that would have required Harry to actually work up the courage to ask him about it. And now that Harry had failed that simple task, he was the one on the spot. Shit.
He cast around for something to say and landed on, "I was regretting going at all, right at the end."
"Why?" James asked, without a hint of judgment.
Harry looked out at the lake as he spoke. "I was worried it was too unnatural and would drive me a bit mad, you know? And Hermione, she agreed it was a risk. But she said risks are okay sometimes and that in her job—with, uh, brewing new Potions," he added hastily, "taking risks usually leads to new discoveries. So, she asked me what I'd discovered," he ended lamely, then took a deep breath.
That made no sense. This was the problem with beginning to speak before you had the end in mind.
"What do you think you discovered?"
"No idea," Harry said honestly. "I've been thinking about it all day and all I've come up with is—er—that I'm glad to be alive and that I'm really sad the others are gone. Sirius especially. He was like another parent to me and I never—he was so alive, always laughing, the center of attention in every room. I never imagined someone like that could die."
Harry dropped his head as a few tears fell onto his lap. "I miss him. All the time. Whenever I think of something I want to ask him, then remember he's gone. Or when I think of a clever joke I know he'll appreciate. So, yeah. That's not much of a revelation. I knew I missed him before."
Harry took his glasses off and wiped away the tears that had fallen on the lenses with his shirt. He could see his dad out of his periphery, sitting completely still, and wondered what he was thinking. Did he know Harry was a fraud? He had tried to do what Hermione said, speak sincerely, but he was sure it wasn't what his dad was looking for. He probably wanted to reminisce about Sirius with someone who shared the same memories.
James placed a hand on Harry's shoulder just as he was putting his glasses back on. "I think you've got the discovery right on with the first thing you said."
"What?" Harry asked, turning to look at his dad as he tried to remember what he'd said.
"You said, 'I'm glad to be alive.' I think that's it. The big revelation you're supposed to come away with after talking to the dead. And you—you're so good at that, Harry. At living and just—enjoying your life."
"I am?"
James squeezed Harry's shoulder before dropping his hand and turning back to face the lake. "Yes, you are. You couldn't have picked a better partner. And you have a job you love that adds a bit of joy to the world without stressing you out. I know you were thinking about joining the league, or even the Aurors for a little while, chasing one of those illustrious careers that entice most wizards your age, but you gave it up. I've always been so proud of you for that. So, whatever life lesson you're supposed to learn, I think you already learned it. Maybe you can teach me a few things."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, turning to look at his dad.
James kept his gaze forward as he responded. "I told Sirius about the textbook, and about teaching at Hogwarts. He, well, we had a laugh." He paused to smile and Harry could see tears welling in his eyes. "Then he said—" he paused again, this time to take a deep breath, "—about bloody time.
"He said, 'I've been wondering how long it would take you to stop chasing revenge and letting the war run your life.' He was referring to the DMLE work. I hate it—always have—but I thought it was what I was supposed to do. There are still Death Eaters out there and I should help catch them. But he—he told me to let it go."
"Oh," Harry breathed as a lump formed in his throat. Would Sirius have told him the same thing? Wasn't he doing just that? Chasing Death Eaters out of a sense of duty, more than anything else. He certainly didn't like the work and if he was being truly honest with himself, he was tired. So fucking tired of Dark Magic, Dark Wizards, and seeing the worst of humanity day in and day out.
"I think I've been suffering from survivor's guilt," James continued. "I thought I must have been the one left behind for a reason and needed to do something worthwhile. But lately, I don't know. I think it's enough to just be the bloke who raised a good wizard, was devoted to his wife, and helped a few students master Switching Spells. I don't have to kill every Death Eater who killed my friends."
They were quiet for a while until Harry found his voice. "I understand survivor's guilt. It's… hard and you—I'm sure you have it pretty bad, losing all your closest friends."
James nodded. "But you haven't let it run your life. Why is that?"
Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no idea. He thought of the other Harry and one of the most obvious differences between their lives as he said, "Hermione."
Back in their world, she'd wanted him to go back to Hogwarts after the war and act like a kid. And she'd never liked his choice of career. The Harry in this world must have listened to her.
"Yeah, I thought so," James replied. "Good job listening to your witch. I made the mistake of ignoring mine."
"They are a lot smarter than us," Harry said with a small smile.
"No kidding." James wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and they sat there for a long while, watching the sky change colors and cast patterns of light on the water.
"I saw a magic carpet in the sky around here when you were in Cairo, so I think it's safe to fly without alerting any Muggles. You up for it?" James asked,
"Absolutely," Harry replied, trying to swallow back the lump in his throat. Flying with his dad was the exact pickme-up he needed right now.
Over dinner, the group agreed to pack up the campsite and go to South America a day early. James and Hermione started working on the Portkey while Harry and Lily secured the loose items around the tent. Once they were finished, Harry returned to his bedroom and packed up the few clothes strewn about, then plopped onto the bed. He was so done.
As he sat there, exhausted, the emotions of the day finally caught up to him. Tears fell down his face and after a few moments, he was full-on crying. He took his glasses off and dropped his head in his hands as sobs shook his body.
A few moments later, he felt the bed shift, then a gentle hand on his back. He continued to cry. He was so overcome with emotion, he couldn't stop. He felt Hermione get up, heard her distant voice say, "We need some time… at least thirty minutes… knock on your door when we're ready to go."
She was back and this time, she grabbed his shoulders and folded herself over his hunched back in a sort of hug.
Harry reached up and grabbed one of her hands as he tried to regain control of himself. This was ridiculous, they were supposed to be leaving and he'd completely lost it. What was wrong with him? He shoved his palms into his eyes and took deep, deliberate breaths.
When he'd finally regained some semblance of control, he sat up slowly, giving Hermione a chance to pull herself off him. He turned to her and murmured, "Sorry," keeping his head down.
Hermione grabbed his chin and tilted his face up. "I know you're about to say you're fine, and that you don't want to talk about it, but I'm going to insist you do. This is what happens when you bottle things up. So… take whatever time you need and when you're ready, tell me what's going on."
Harry could tell by the stern look on her face that she wasn't going to budge on this one. He sighed and leaned back on his hands, looking at the blank canvas wall of the tent as he took several more shaky breaths. When he felt stable enough to talk, he started with, "I'm sad."
He saw her nod out of his periphery. "I'm going to need more than that."
Harry's lips curled up. He knew it wouldn't be that easy, but it was worth a shot. "I've been feeling sorry for myself this whole trip," he continued, "mourning the life I didn't get to have. But today—it hit me, for the first time—that I should be mourning the life they didn't get to have."
"Your parents?" Hermione whispered.
Harry nodded, keeping his eyes on the wall. "They're people. Real people, and I—I always thought of them as these perfect wizards who had it all figured out but they— They're struggling, and learning, and growing—just like we are—and, I don't know, none of it happens. They just stop all that at twenty-one years old—almost the same age I am now—and it's so unfair."
"I know."
"They love each other so much, and they're just trying to enjoy life and choose the right path, just like I am, and I —I don't know. I know it's obvious, but I just realized it, while talking to my dad earlier and it—it makes the whole thing so much sadder. I was so selfish before, just thinking of myself."
He thought too of what he and his dad had talked about. About survivor's guilt and trying your best to ignore it and enjoy life, which was what Sirius would have wanted for them. He thought about how he wasn't doing that back at home. But Harry couldn't unravel that mess right now.
Instead, he leaned forward, propped his elbows on his knees, and started crying into his hands again. Hermione clutched the arm closest to her and laid her head on his shoulder.
This time, it only took him a few minutes to regain control of himself. "This is pathetic," he muttered as he started wiping his tears away with the back of his sleeve.
Hermione pulled his hands down and placed her hands on either side of his face, turning him to face her. "Don't."
"What?" he whispered.
"This is not pathetic. You're allowed to have emotions and giving in to them every once in a while doesn't make you weak. I break down all the time, from nightmares and flashbacks, grief over all we've lost. When I'm a blubbering mess like that, do you think it's pathetic?"
"No," he said honestly. He spoke to the silver otter on her necklace, since he was too embarrassed to look her in the eye.
She dropped her hands and conjured a handkerchief, then began wiping the tears from his face. "Good. It's the same for me. I don't think having feelings makes you weak or pathetic. It's repressing them that's the problem. We need to get you to stop that."
She'd finished with the handkerchief, then grabbed his glasses from the bed and gently put them back on.
"I'm going to say something you told me a few days ago, which I think is obvious, but wouldn't hurt to put words to."
She placed her hands on his shoulders. "I love you, Harry. Even when you're reduced to a puddle of tears. You're allowed to break down; you have a lot going on. But you're not allowed to beat yourself up about it. You're also not allowed to beat yourself up about mourning your parents incorrectly. It's a process. You mourned your loss, now you're mourning theirs. I'm sure more facets will come up, and you'll handle those when they do. Just—go easy on yourself. Okay?"
Harry pulled her into a hug. "You're brilliant," he said into her hair.
"Is that a yes? Are you going to go easy on yourself?"
"Of course," he said, smiling as he leaned back. "Plus, you look like you're going to hex me if I don't agree."
"Yes. I would." She sighed and got to her feet. "It's been a day, hasn't it?"
"Yeah."
She used her wand to float the few items of hers that were out of her trunk back in place, then shrunk both of their trunks and sent them into their backpacks. When she was finished, she pocketed her wand, then turned around and held her hand out to Harry. "Ready to go to South America and put all this behind us?"
"Fuck yes," he said as he placed his hand in hers.
