Everybody Does It



He awoke with that familiar scent filling his nostrils. It was the smell of flowers, of passion, of home, of her. How long had it been since last he smelled it? He couldn’t say. Not anymore, not since the passage of time became an abstract--a worthless reassurance against the ever-present pain.



Time, he decided, didn’t really matter, especially now when she was so close he could breathe her in. The morning sun pressing in against his still closed eyelids, he smiled at the thought that he could just roll over and she would be there, ready to let herself be wrapped in his arms. The urge to hold her grew so great that he had no choice but to brave the shards of pain he knew would come. If only he could just hold her.



As he rolled over, slivers of white hot steel tore through his torso, and he bore the pain grinning. If only just for her. His arm felt as though it were moving through lava, and that was fine because when it came to rest, it would do so upon her, and he would be healed.



Except it didn’t, and he wasn’t.



His bare arm fell against fresh linens, and nothing else, and for the first time since he awoke, he cracked open his eyes.



Sunlight filtered through the bedroom window, falling upon the emptiness that lay next to him in bed. And that’s when he remembered everything. He closed his eyes again in despair—he was so close.



But then something struck him as odd. Those were his sheets, his pillows, his window. Memories now in place, the scent that had anchored him so many times before still lingered, embedded in the blankets that embraced him.



I’m home?.



He opened his eyes again, this time more fully so as to take in the room, and found someone staring back at him. Wincing as he reached for his glasses, he felt a course hand stay his own, and watched as the blur came into focus as it slipped the cool steel into place.



“Ron?� he croaked, and he watched as his best friend nodded. Harry looked around a little, and sitting nearby was his other best friend. His lips again curled into a smile as he hoarsely muttered, “Hermione.�



Retaking his seat, Ron looked tired. Dark half-moons hung from his bloodshot eyes, and his hair, now more gray than red, jutted out in impossible angles. When he took his seat, his wife leaned her head on his shoulder, and Harry marveled at the fact that though her hair was bushier than ever, and her cheeks were doused in tears, she was still as beautiful as the day his two friends were married. His heart warmed, and a blanket of contentment covered him at the sight of them.



“You brought me home,� he whispered. He knew he had a lot of talking to do today, and he didn’t want to wear his throat out this early in the game.



“Last night,� Ron muttered, and Hermione nodded.



“Thank you,� was all he could manage.



“Well,� Ron said thickly. “You said this was where you wanted to be when… when it happened. They say… it won’t b-be long n-now.�



This didn’t come as a shock to him. He knew for the past week (or was it years? He could never remember anymore) that this was coming. “I thought so,� he offered with a nod.



The three friends stared at each other in silence, letting the realization of everything wash over them. He didn’t like it. His time was short and he wanted to joke, and laugh, and remember. The last thing he wanted to do was watch how much he was hurting them. Without warning, Hermione’s face was buried in her hands and she was weeping.



“Hermione… don’t… please,� he protested, but all she could do was shake her head violently. “Hermione… come on, let’s talk about something… anything… Here, I got it… I can’t do it for myself anymore. So, why don’t you read Hogwarts, a History to me?�



She looked up at him, and for a second he thought she would cry harder, but her face cracked into a smile, and she laughed. Ron, despite obviously holding back tears, allowed himself to smirk.



“You’re dreadful,� she chided.



“I know,� he wheezed, and they all laughed uneasily again. The silence between them grew more comfortable, and Harry once again let time slip through his fingers. They were kids again, and this was no more than the hospital wing.



How much time did they spend there? Looking back, it seemed as though half of their adolescence was spent with at least one of them bed ridden. And through it all, they were there, together.



“You know,� Harry rasped. “This feels very strange.�



“How do you mean?� Hermione finally spoke up.



“It feels like the first time in my life that I’m going on an adventure… without… you guys,� he breathed in reply. He knew this was the wrong thing to say as soon as he said it because Hermione’s face was riddled with fresh tears and Ron leapt to his feet.



Again, the air grew thick and heavy.



As his wife cried some more, Ron paced furiously, his face screwed up, his eyes clenched as if to keep the tears at bay. “I didn’t mean…�



BANG!



Ron’s fist collided with the wardrobe in the room, and the door flew open on its hinges.



“RON!� Hermione shouted at him, and Harry was filled with the strangest feeling of affection. They were going to row. When they were teenagers he hated it when they snapped at each other; he felt caught in the middle, forced to take sides when he knew he couldn’t. But as they all grew older, Harry had learned that no words could express their love better than a real good knock-down, dust-falling-from-the-rafters row.



And he was going to get to see at least one more.



Hermione rounded on him, and Harry smiled, but then everything froze. Ron had grabbed at one of the shirts hanging in the wardrobe and buried his face in it, and Hermione gently placed a hand on his back. He was sobbing, small whimpers coming from his throat broken only by loud obnoxious snorts.



It was her shirt.



“Ron,� Harry called after him, and he turned.



“I’m sorry, Harry,� he choked, but Harry shook his head.



“Don’t be, I’ll…� Harry felt the first tear of the day fall down his cheek. “I’ll get to be with her soon.�



It was too much. Hermione had nearly dived on top of him, throwing her arms around him recklessly, dissolving into a fit of sobs. Before he knew it, Ron was there too. The pain was excruciating, but it was nothing compared to the love that filled him.



“I just… wanted to… to thank you two…� he sobbed, the world going blurry from the tears. “I wanted to thank you for being my family, and for… for sharing my life with me…�



He couldn’t say anything after that. For a while, no one could. He knew this was coming, but it didn’t take the pain away from having to say goodbye to his two best friends. He had learned to cope with the stabbing pain that accompanied his slightest move, but that was nothing to the hole in his heart at the thought that he would never get to see Ron and Hermione again.



He would never get to see them fight again, or kiss, or hold hands. He would miss the way Ron still danced around the room when he beat her at chess, and the way she rolled her eyes at him every time he made a complete arse out of himself. He would miss the Sunday dinners, the ones that started off just the four of them, and grew over the years to include the Longbottoms, the Creevey’s, and their children. He would miss the talks, and the idle jokes, and the comfortable silence. He missed them already.



Harry held onto them as tightly as he could, but his muscles had grown weak, and he soon had to let them go. They pulled back, Ron’s face flushed crimson, Hermione’s painted in the deepest sorrow.



“I’m going to miss you two…� he sighed.



“We’ll miss you too, Harry,� Hermione said in a very shaky voice. Despite the tears, Harry could tell she was trying to hold on to some sense of composure. Ron held her close and only nodded. Hermione held Harry’s hand, and another moment of silence passed before she spoke again.



“They’re here, you know,� she said quietly, and Harry knew exactly who they were. “They stayed with you all night. We… we came in early so they could have a quick lie down before… be… so they could be rested up enough to see you…�



“Oh,� he thought numbly. He had expected this too, but hadn’t been able to figure out how to cope. Words filled his head during the more bearable moments of the last few weeks, and all of them worthless. He had dreaded this moment ever since he first heard he was inflicted with the disease, and now it was here. After three years of pain, Harry knew that the most difficult part of his life was only minutes away.



“We’ll go and fetch them… if you like,� she said, and Harry nodded slowly. They shared one last embrace, and, bound to the bed, Harry watched as his two best friends walked to the door.



“Good bye,� he whispered after them, mustering the warmest smile he could. They stopped in their tracks and turned towards him.



“Good bye, Harry,� Hermione answered back quietly. Ron’s face was screwed up tight, his eyes nearly shut, and his hand gripping Hermione’s arm tight enough to wrinkle her shirt. Looking at Harry, Ron remained still for nearly a minute before nodding his head once, and ushering his wife out the door.



The door closed behind them with a quiet click, and Harry closed his eyes. Before he had a chance to let his mind wonder, however, the air was filled with a great roar and a heavy thud.



“Ron!� he heard Hermione’s voice filter through the bedroom door, and again Harry found himself smiling at the most inopportune of moments. Had anyone else been watching him right then, they might have thought him mad, but he wasn’t.



Ron was angry, furious, frustrated, and he had yelled and hit something, probably the wall. He was still as passionate as ever, and he was alive. Pain, Harry thought, wasn’t pleasant, but it meant you were still alive, and Ron was very much just that. From the low mumbles he heard slowly drifting away from his shut bedroom door, Harry could tell that Hermione was quite alive too.



As much as he knew he should have been preparing for what was to come, Harry couldn’t help but let himself sink into a rich sea of memories. He remembered the day they had met each other, three kids who just somehow managed to find each other on a train. A giant chessboard flitted into his mind, replaced by the petrified image of Hermione in the hospital wing. He reminisced about Yule Balls and DA meetings, dragons and mountain trolls.



Taking in a deep breath, he remembered her.



He was tired. He was always tired anymore, and without wanting to, Harry fell asleep.



**



The soft clicking and subsequent groan of the bedroom door swinging open had woken Harry from his vague dreams. Again, time played that nasty trick on him, and he couldn’t determine if he had slept for seconds, minutes, or days. He opened his eyes to see a petite, woman-shaped blur with red hair stepping through the door cautiously.



“Ginny?� he rasped, his mind again a jumble of the present and the past, his heart swelling with hope and anticipation. The figure slowly shook her curtain of red hair as she let out a small sniffle. It was then that Harry realized that while he dozed, his glasses had slipped down the bridge of his nose. Wincing at the needles of pain that dug into his arms, he pushed his spectacles back in place, and the world came into focus.



Even with his sight restored, Harry had momentarily continued to believe that the woman standing before him was Ginny. It wasn’t until he noticed the eyes staring back at him, emerald green wrapped in bloodshot whites and tears, that he understood who it really was.



“Molly,� he smiled at her, hoping she would smile back. Instead, she bit her lip and her jaw trembled. Her hands gripped the footboard of his bed so tightly that they had turned bone white as silent tears fell upon the blankets at his feet.



Harry appraised his daughter lovingly. How much she looked like her mum, small yet powerful, pretty yet unassuming.



“Hi dad,� came a deep voice from behind her, and Harry looked past Molly to see a red haired man walk into the room, a pretty, raven haired woman following him. It was amazing, he mused, how much alike father and son had appeared. Not for the first time did Harry think that if the world were black and white, the two would be indistinguishable. But not anymore. Harry looked down at his withered, skeletal arms, and thought that the days of he and his son being near mirror images of each other were over. In truth, his days were just over.



“Tom and… Anathea! You came,� he smiled at them, trying desperately to sound normal again just this once.



“Hello, Mr. Potter,� the raven-haired girl replied, unable to meet his eyes.



“Ana… I’ve known you since you were fifteen! Please call me anything but Mr. Potter?� It was no secret how fond Harry was of his daughter in law. When she and Tom had started dating, Harry thought her nice, and very respectful, and she seemed to make Tom happy, which was good. As his son and the woman before him grew closer, Harry quietly watched at how remarkable she truly was, quiet and reserved, but not without a spine. She had a kind of strength about her that, all told, helped Tom even more than he could understand.



And then her parents died. In the weeks following the tragedy, Harry and Anathea had bonded. Death was perhaps the one thing Harry understood better than anyone, and she had found comfort in his words. They had been close ever since. But still, Harry could not for the life of him get her to use anything other than, “Mr. Potter.�



“H-Harry…� she squeaked. “I… I won’t stay long,� she continued, squeezing her husband’s hand before letting it go. “I just wanted to… to…�



“Say goodbye?� Harry finished for her. All three adults standing in the room flinched, and Anathea looked hurt as Harry looked at her. She had inched closer to him as she spoke, but when he interrupted her, she stopped. In fact, she looked as though running away was a perfectly viable option. “Come here,� Harry added.



She sat down on the bed next to him, her face a mixture of sympathy and horror. He knew her, he knew how much effort it must have taken for her to get this far, and he knew he would have to close the last little bit of the gap on his own.



Forcing himself not to grimace as he did so, he reached for her, and felt her collapse into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, and he instantly felt the wetness of her tears. She didn’t make a sound. That’s how Anathea cried: quietly. Harry remembered after her parents had passed, not once did she scream, or sob loudly, or wail at the top of her lungs. She just let the tears fall, just as she did now.



Harry stroked her hair, and felt her arms tighten around him as he did so. “I’m so glad you came,� he whispered in her ear, feeling her nod against his chest in response. “Gives me the chance to thank you… Thank you for being a good friend, and a wonderful daughter-in-law… Thank you for taking care of Tom for me… and Ana?�



She tilted her head up, and Harry looked into her steel gray eyes.



“Thank you for making him so happy,� more silent tears slipped down her cheek. They were about to break their embrace, when Harry renewed his grip on her, saying almost absent-mindedly, “one more thing.�



She looked at him questioningly.



“Grandkids,� he said in a grave voice. “I want grandkids. Even if I’m not around to enjoy them, I want some, okay?� She stared at him in total shock, and Harry let his face crack into a smile. “I’m joking… sort of…�



She chuckled weakly as she wiped a tear from her eye. She squeezed his hand tightly, and looked as though she were steeling herself to say something difficult, but Harry stopped her.



“Ana,� he said. “You don’t have to say it…�



“No,� she said as she closed her eyes. She clenched her jaw for a moment, and then reopened her eyes to stare right into his. Determination exuded from her face, and in a surprisingly strong voice she said, “Goodbye Harry, I’ll miss you.�



“Goodbye,� Harry choked, and he felt her squeeze his hand one last time. She offered him a rigid smile, stood up, turned her back on him, and walked away. Tom tried to take her hand, but she kept walking as though he weren’t even there. The door closed behind her, and she was gone.



It was now just Harry and his kids.



“How’re you feeling, dad?� Tom asked, and Harry shrugged.



“About as well as can be expected, I suppose.� Though red in the face and teary eyed, Tom seemed rather well composed. On the contrary, Harry’s daughter looked like it was taking every ounce of will in her not to break apart. She hadn’t moved an inch from where she stood. Her hands still clasped the footboard, and occasional tears streaked down her face. “Molly, you alright?�



She just shook her head. Harry sighed, and motioned for both of his children to come close. Tom mechanically sat in the chair at Harry’s bedside, while Molly remained still. “Molly,� Harry said, a little shocked at how parental his tone had become. In that instant, as she unwillingly let go of the footboard, and sat down on the bed beside her father, she was a child again. But when she met his eyes, she was again an adult; a green-eyed version of her mother.



“You know I don’t have long, don’t you?� Harry asked them. They both nodded. “I… I don’t think I’ll make it through the day, so… I’ve decided a few things, who gets what… that kind of stuff. The important one is the house. Molly, I’m leaving the house to you, I don’t think Tom needs it, and well… I know you’ll take good care of it.� A wicked little grin played on his face as he added, “And I think you may want to have a talk with your Uncle Ron. It sounded like he put a whole in the wall of your new house…�



“DAD STOP!� Molly shrieked at him, and Harry felt the smile on his face disappear.



“What?� he pleaded.



“Stop making jokes!� she cried. “You’re DYING! You’re not just going away, dad. You’re going to DIE! SO STOP ACTING LIKE IT’S A JOKE!�



“But Molly…�



“NO, DAD! I’m… I… AREN’T YOU SCARED?�



Harry thought about this for a moment. “No, I’m not.�



“THEN BE SCARED, DAMMIT!� she roared at him as she pounded on his chest sending fresh gouts of pain soaring through his body. “BE SCARED! GIVE A DAMN!�



“MOLLY!� her brother yelled at her, trying to envelope his hysterical sister in his arms, but she swung at him, her fists hitting his chest hard.



“Don’t ‘MOLLY’ me TOM! Look at him! LOOK AT HIM! He’s giving up!�



“Molly,� Tom tried again, but she was beyond control.



“NO!� she cut him off, returning her attention to her father. Her face was twisted in a mask of anguish, and Harry felt his heart split in two. “Listen, dad,� she begged. “You can still fight it. Please. Just fight, dad. You don’t have to go, okay? D-Dennis, he’s still working on it, maybe, if you can just give him more time… maybe. But dad, don’t give up, okay? You’ve beaten so much worse then this, so just don’t give up. Please!�



Molly was now almost completely on top of her dad, and Tom wrapped a hand around her arm. “Molly,� he said softly, but in an instant she had reverted back to shouting.



“DON’T TOUCH ME TOM!� she yelled at him, swinging her arm away. She rounded on him, advancing menacingly. “HOW COULD YOU?� she roared, pushing him in the chest. “How dare you just let him give up like this, Tom? What’s wrong with you? We can’t just let him die… we can’t… not after mum… Tom…� She collapsed in his arms, her sobs wracking her body viciously, her arms going back and forth between clutching at him, and hitting him. Tom stood there and took it, resting his chin on the top of his sister’s head.



Harry wanted to comfort her and tell her it was going to be okay, just as he had done countless times in the past, but he couldn’t. All he could do was sit and watch his daughter cry it out. When her tears ebbed to a small stream, Tom spoke.



“Molly… Let’s just be with dad, okay?� She nodded, and both children retook their seats, Tom scooting his chair so that his knees touched the bed, Molly taking her father’s hand in her own.



Harry looked into his daughter’s eyes, his own eyes, and gave her a sad smile. “It’s going to happen, Molly, and I can’t stop it…�



“But Dennis…� she pleaded, but Harry interrupted her.



“Your cousin came to visit last week… He said… He said it was too late.�



“Oh,� she said dumbly, and Harry couldn’t help but think of Ron and Hermione’s only son. The boy was uncommon. He was the first Weasley to be born without red hair, and the first Weasley to be put in a house other than Gryffindor. As Dennis progressed through school in Ravenclaw, it became very apparent that Dennis was also uncommonly brilliant.



When Harry was diagnosed, Dennis had made it his life’s work to find a cure. Abandoned were his notes for his eighth book, a study in experimental Arithmancy. Instead he took up the study of healing. In months he had breezed through the training required to be a healer, and within the first two years of Harry’s illness, Dennis had discovered means to detect and treat the illness in its early stages. But treatment in the advanced stages eluded him, and it was only a week ago when a very tearful Dennis had come to Harry to tell him that there was nothing he could do.



It was the only time Harry ever saw his nephew cry. Harry hadn’t seen him since.



Returning his attention to his children, Harry squeezed his daughter’s hand and spoke. “I don’t have much time left, so I need you to listen, okay?� They nodded.



“I don’t… Tom, I could not have hoped for a better son. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of just how proud I am of you. You’ve accomplished so much, and you have a wonderful wife, and you’ve grown into a remarkable man…� At this, Tom lowered his gaze to stare at his hands, and Harry thought he saw a few tears fall from his face.



“And Molly,� he said, stroking her cheek with his free hand. “You’re so much like her, you know that? It amazes me sometimes. You’re beautiful, and smart, and for as much of me that you have in you, you still turned into an extraordinary woman.�



“Both of you have made me so proud to be a father, and I know that wherever she is, your mother is just as proud.� He paused for a moment, trying to figure out what he would say next, and how to say it. He wasn’t the best with words, and he only had one shot at this, so he was determined not to screw it up.



“I don’t want to leave without… making sure you understand. I want you to know what’s really important, okay? You’ve both done so much with your lives, but believe me when I say that the most important thing you can do is love…� They sat in silence, staring at him, and Harry had guessed that so far he was doing okay.



“Tom, that wife of yours, you don’t ever let her go a day without knowing exactly how much you love her, you understand? Hold her when you want to, kiss her when you want to, don’t ever let anything stop you from loving her with all your heart, okay? Don’t miss a single kiss. Don’t miss a single chance to tell her you love her.�



“And Molly, I know you haven’t found the right guy yet, but trust me you will. You’re too beautiful of a person not to have some idiot fall head over heels in love with you.� As he said this, father and daughter grinned at each other before he continued, “And when he does, you hold on to him as tight as you can, and don’t you dare let go.�



“And when you both have children… you… you spoil the hell out of them, okay? Because I won’t be here to do it…� Harry had to stop, his eyes filled with tears, his voice tightening up in his throat. Wiping away the tears, he saw his children weeping silently, and he pressed on.



“So that’s my parting advice… love. If you love as much as you can… then… then I think you can die without regrets. You can… you can die happy.� As much as Harry wanted to end in a strong voice, he could hear it squeak in his ears, but he didn’t care. How he sounded, how he looked, none of it mattered, as long as they understood.



Somehow, he thought they got the point. Tom had left his chair, and his arms were around Harry. Harry hugged his son as they both trembled in tears. “I love you dad,� Tom whispered, and try as he might, Harry’s throat was too stopped up to let him answer.



When Molly collapsed in Harry’s arms after Tom made room for her, she didn’t speak. Instead she only shook quietly against him for the longest time. When she did speak, her words came in quiet, high pitched whispers, “I don’t want you to go dad. I can’t… not after mum… Daddy…�



“Shh,� he whispered into her hair. “It’ll be fine.�



She looked up at him, her face red and pleading. “How can you say that?� she asked, and for some strange reason, Harry smiled.



“Because,� he started to explain. “Death is the most natural thing in the world. As terrible and painful and frightening as it is, it’s also the one thing that everyone has to do. Everybody does it.�



“Look,� he sighed at the bewildered expression on his children’s faces. “I’ve only ever known a couple of people who tried to live forever. The results were mixed, and, in the end, they both failed anyway. We’re not supposed to stay here forever. We have to move on, and make room for others. Those two didn’t fail because they had bad plans or made mistakes, they failed because… eventually, it would have to be their time to go whether they wanted to or not.�



“We all have our time. They had theirs. Your… your mum had hers, and… and someday it’ll be your turn... But today… now… it’s my time, and I’m not scared or upset at all… I’m… I’m happy.�



“What?� Molly said, and Harry for a moment thought his daughter would go into hysterics again, but he cut her off.



“I am. There are so many people I’ve missed… and now I get to see them again. Your grandparents, all of them. Your Uncle Sirius. And I’ll get to be with your mum again. I get to be with her, and I get to tell her how big of an idiot her youngest brother is, and I get to tell her about her nieces and nephews, and… and I get to tell her how wonderful her children are…�



Harry couldn’t speak after that, and he didn’t want to. Tom and Molly suffocated him in an embrace, and despite the pain surging through his body, it was the greatest feeling in the world. They held each other for what seemed like hours (or minutes, or maybe years… Did time really matter anymore?) until Harry finally motioned to break apart.



He could feel the weight on his lungs, and a strange cool sensation seemed to fill the continuous throb of pain. He knew it was time.



“Listen,� he told them, the act of speaking growing more and more difficult by the minute. “I think… I think it’s time… I want you to go now…�



“No, dad.�



“Molly, please…�



“Daddy…�



“Honey, go… Live, love, be happy, please.�



They were at an impasse, and Harry looked at Tom. For a moment, it looked as though Tom might take her side, but then Harry saw a glint in his son’s eye, and knew he understood. As hard as all of this was, Harry didn’t want to put her through actually watching him die.



Slowly, Tom lifted himself from the bed, and walked around to his sister. He took her arm, but she ignored him, and when she refused to let herself be guided by him, Tom gently whispered, “Molly, it’s time to go.�



She looked up at him in horror, but something in Tom’s face seemed to calm her. Slowly, she nodded, and said, “Can I just have one more hug?� Tom nodded. Harry felt his daughter lean into him for one last time. She kissed him on the cheek, and whispered in his ear, “G-Goodbye, daddy… I love you.�



Harry watched as Tom ushered his sister to the door, and the only pain he felt was the regret that he had to put them through this. As Tom held the door open for Molly, she didn’t look back but only went right through it, her footsteps pounding heavily in the hallway.



Tom stared at his father, his hand wrapped around the doorknob. He motioned to speak, and then stopped. He took a deep breath, and opened his mouth again. “’Bye, dad.�



“’Bye, son.�



Tom took a step, and then stopped. “C-Can you tell her we… we said hi? And that… we miss her?�



Harry felt tears roll down his cheeks, and mustered the energy to say, “I think… I can do that.�



Tom nodded, and without another word, left, closing the door behind him. Harry was alone.



His eyes drifted closed, he wouldn’t be needing them anymore, and he sunk back down into his bed. It was the strangest thing, he thought. The pain didn’t seem nearly that bad anymore. In fact, for the first time in three years, he felt like he could actually get comfortable.



What’dya think Gin? Harry asked. Think I handled it okay? Harry supposed she would give him a piece of her mind if he didn’t. He didn’t have much longer to wait.



For the last time, his mind drifted. So many memories, so many people. He would miss them all, but he didn’t regret a second of it. He had loved, and lived, and had beautiful children, and great friends, and a wonderful family, and now he was going to get to be with the person he had missed so much over the last ten years.



A smile crossed his face for the last time, and his mind afforded him one more thought.



I’m almost there, Ginny… I’ve got so much to tell you.



fin