Randomly found a fic I hadn't published on here, you may get tearful, 'pologies!
All I Need
He wasn't sure how he had ended up here.
He knew he had woken up, tossed and turned for a bit before deciding a walk might help...or, something.
He had walked and come across a couple of people in the battered corridors. They either hugged him briefly without saying anything to him, or said nothing but 'thank you' over and over again before hurrying off to where they had been going to before they saw him.
After the third person had hugged him tightly, and he had had to look again at glistening eyes and tears falling, he automatically turned into an empty classroom.
He had walked through the sea of desks, which were still miraculously all in place, and sat down. His automatic actions had taken him to his first desk. It wasn't the desk that he had first sat at in school, but it was the first desk he had managed to scorch with sparks from his wand, the first desk he had graffitied and the first desk he had passed messages to Ron to, accompanied by scathing looks from Hermione .
His thoughts stayed with his best friends and how much they had sacrificed to be with him over the past year. He had honestly not thought that they would give up everything to help him, he had never intended to ask them to go, but they hadn't given him the choice.
He was glad they hadn't.
He had woken up because he couldn't get a vision out of his head: that of his mother.
All through his magical life he had been told the same thing: that he looked exactly like his dad, but with his mother's eyes. Details of his Dad's mischiefs at school were talked about with a smile and his talents on the Quidditch Pitch were too. But details of his mother were less frequent.
When he called them to come and get him in the Forest, he had looked over all four of them, of course he had, but his eyes had been drawn back to his mum. Then, more than ever he had wanted a hug off his mum, and for a second he imagined being able to do that, once Voldemort had fired his deadly curse.
But it hadn't turned out like that. He had come back and carried on through the pain and the uncertainty to where he was now.
Sat at his first school desk.
His friends had comforted him, hugged him briefly and told him they were proud of him. But he wanted more. He didn't know if it was selfish or not, but he just wanted to be held my his mum and told he had done the right things and that everything was going to be okay.
He wanted his mum to take the pain away, like only a mother could.
He folded his arms on the desk and rested his forehead on his arms. By the candlelight he could just make out his own initials scratched onto the desk, made by his own hand, and above those someone had scratched we believe in.
He couldn't stop the sobs that wracked through him. He just wanted his mum.
He thought he had heard someone moving around him, but he still couldn't stop the tears or sobs to try and listen. There was some part of him that didn't want to stop.
Hands were on his face lifting it upwards and then he was being pulled up. He vision was blurred and his shoulders still shook, but he managed to recognise who was sitting him up. It was Molly Weasley.
He tried to say something, but his words got caught in his throat. The desk in front of him was moved away and Molly pulled a chair next to his, but facing the other direction.
Again he tried to calm down his sobs and he managed to swallow a couple, but before he had chance to say anything, Molly had pulled him towards her and enveloped him in a hug.
He clung to her like his life depended on it. He felt her hand stroking his hair and heard her speak quiet words of comfort to him. He remembered three years ago, when she had held him in a similar way after he had come out of the maze. The first time he had ever been held like this.
He lost track of how long he stayed in her arms, but she made no attempt to move him.
Eventually his sobs became less violent, his breathing became a little more steady and the tears didn't fall as fast. He pulled back and felt Molly release her grip on him. He couldn't meet her eye, so messily wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve.
He heard her tut and she handed him a tissue. He took it with a smile and finally looked at her. She, too, had been crying, her face was dry but her eyes were glistening with tears.
Harry hiccuped when he tried to say something, so he swallowed and took a deep, very shaky breath.
'Don't you dare apolgise,' she said, cutting him off.
Her words were enough to send another wave of confusion and guilt through him.
'After what you've done tonight, Harry, you have nothing to apologise for. Nothing.'
He raised his eyes to hers and she smiled. She took his hand and squeezed it.
'You did everything that was asked of you and you didn't stop until your task was complete. Harry, you died for us, for every single one of us, to make sure we had a life to live without pain or suffering.'
'It's not without pain, though, is it?' He had said his sentence in a rush, not wanting to, but needing to make someone understand how he was feeling. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He saw the explosion and then Ron, Percy and George huddled over Fred's lifeless body. 'There's still pain, people are hurting, you're hurting, your whole family's hurting. Maybe if I'd made a different decision or-'
'Maybe if Fred had...' Again Molly cut him off but her voice broke. She cleared her throat and carried on. 'Maybe if Fred had taken another step back, if he had shot a different spell, if they had decided to challenge another group of Death Eaters, then he might not have been in the wrong place when the explosion happened.'
The smallest of frowns crossed Harry's face, which Molly read like an open book.
'I'm not in any way saying it was Fred's fault, Harry, but because it wasn't Fred's fault, doesn't automatically make it yours. It was Fred's choice to come and fight, no one else's. Just as it was your choice to walk into that forest and give your life for the rest of us. Harry, you can't second guess any decision you make. You have to do what you think is right, and you've done that since you left the Burrow in August.
'Your parents would be so proud of you, as I am, as Arthur is. We aren't your mum and dad, Harry, and we would never try to be, but you are welcome in our family as if you were our boy. You're welcome to stay with us, laugh, cry and rejoice with us, and more importantly, to grieve with us.'
The tears fell from his eyes once more and his face crumpled. Molly pulled him into another hug and he closed his eyes.
'Thank...thank you,' he whispered.
'No, Harry. Thank you.