Wherever the Road Shall Go
It started with magnets.
They had each added their own little touches to their new flat, trying to make it feel as comfortable as possible. Harry had put up pictures, copies from the ones in the photo album Hagrid had given to him so long ago. Hermione added little colored magnets to the fridge, letters too. She said that they'd always had them at her house, and this place wouldn't feel like home without it.
The problem was that both of them were hardly home, and if they were, then they were home at opposite times. Days would go by where their only conversation would be a hurried, "good morning" before leaving. He had work to do, trying to catch the remaining Death Eaters and work on rebuilding the Wizarding World. She was busy with school. Although the trio could have gotten any job without finishing their last year, getting a full education was important to Hermione.
One morning when Harry came down, Hermione had already left. As he went to the fridge to get some milk for his cereal, he noticed that the bright letters on the fridge spelled out "good morning." Harry grinned at his friend, suddenly missing her.
I miss you.
He frowned at the words now on the fridge, then, shaking his head, decided to change them.
How was your day?
It lasted like that for a while. Every time one of them got home, they would check the fridge to see what the other one had written. Eventually they moved on to actual notes, as their messages grew longer and it grew to the point where there were no longer enough letters.
At work today I was asked to tell stories about our year on the run.
What did you tell them?
I said most of it wasn't as interesting as they thought it was. Most of it was just waiting around, thinking the worst, dreading what's to come.
Her reply was a heart.
Work was getting harder and harder. It was so frustrating to see how slowly things were changing. It was heart wrenching dealing with families who'd lost so much or seeing people who'd been injured. The highlights of his days were seeing those little messages.
I'm so tired.
Most nights he didn't even sleep anymore, but just laid there awake. Mostly he just wondered why he survived when so many others didn't, thought about the blood on his hands. Did Voldemort count? By then he had become so much a snake it was hard to tell if he was human. He wondered if making excuses about his first kill made him an awful person.
Let's take a trip was the message that awaited him. Harry frowned, thinking of how good that sounded. Just for once, he wanted to think about himself. He wanted to be happy, so that he wouldn't grow to resent everyone.
Harry, I wasn't being serious.
I was. Where do you want to go?
A/N- Part 1 is based on the prompt "magnet poetry" for schmoop_bingo. Part 2 will be up later tonight. It's already written, just need to make some finishing touches.