—Harry POV—
It was with a hard resolve that I began the day, taking advantage that my body had not decided to act up on me in the middle of the night. I got up early and made breakfast for the family. Scorpius was the first to find me cooking. Then Draco, and finally Teddy.
When Scorpius had found me he raised an eyebrow, then gave a tentative "good morning."
"Good morning, Scor. How'd you sleep?"
"I slept well, and you?"
"I did, too."
He didn't speak more, though it looked like he had a world's worth of things to say.
When Draco came down he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind and planted a kiss on the side of my neck, before resting his chin on my shoulder.
"You're alright today?"
"Brilliant."
"Mm, that's good. Love you."
"I love you, too."
I was a bit glad that Draco was still half asleep. Ever since I asked him to wait outside while I spoke with Dr. Gilroy yesterday, he'd been too careful around me. He kept asking if I was alright and reminding me that I could trust him, too. It was good to have these few moments of soft domesticity as opposed to the careful treading around my health and questioning whether I was actually alright.
When Teddy came down, I was about to serve. He seemed happy to hear that I'd cooked today. He smiled and said he was glad to see I was up to it. I took deep breaths, just like Dr. Gilroy suggested, smiling and answering Teddy with an affirmative, trying not to let it get me down that it was clear he meant 'I'm glad you got out of bed today'. Because that's not something Teddy should have to worry about.
After breakfast I went back upstairs, getting dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, ensuring that nothing was amiss before I headed downstairs and turned on the floo to wait.
I had to meet with Ron today.
We ended up going to a park just down the street from Grimmauld Place, just walking.
"So, how are you, Ron?"
Ron pursed his lips, eyes trained a little too low to the ground. He inhaled deeply.
"I'm... managing. I'm alright, I think."
"That's good," I responded. A sort of silence fell over us as we walked. The memories of all that'd occurred were heavy with us.
"And you? How's..."
I swallowed. That's not how I wanted this conversation to go.
"I'm managing, as well. As much as I can."
"And you think things are alright?"
I bit my lip and sighed, glancing away and catching sight of a woman walking her dog.
"How's the family?"
He didn't respond right away. Part of me hoped he didn't notice how obviously I'd dodged his question, though I knew that was improbable.
"Managing."
There was no hiding the way Ron's one-word response was clipped around the edges. The silence fell around us yet again, and mentally I kicked myself for not being more present with the Weasleys. Another part of me wondered if now was really a good time to do it, or if I'd only be setting them up for more hurt.
A sharp inhale caused me to turn to Ron again.
"How's, er..." he gestured up to his ears and made an odd motion with his hand, glancing at me.
"I don't really have a problem hearing anymore, just high pitches. The ringing comes back at night, sometimes, when it's really silent."
He nodded, and that awkward silence blanketed us again, which made it all the more difficult to do what I wanted to do with Ron. It took me more than a moment to continue the conversation.
"How's Wheezes?"
And when I asked that, it was clear that it struck a chord with Ron. After all, that was where he'd found George the first time he tried anything. He quit being an Auror to work for Wheezes and be with George, even if he still did work for the Aurors, promising himself, his wife, and his brother to stay with Wheezes full time once everything blew over.
Everything blew over, and with it, the Weasleys lost Fleur, Angelina, and, worst of all, in my opinion, Charlie. Everyone was devastated, but not the way George and his children were.
Wheezes hasn't reopened since before the fighting broke out.
Ron swallowed.
"I need to re-open it, but I just," he sighed, looking out in front of them. "Not yet. I can't... George left me the keys, you know. But I just... I haven't been able to."
I nodded in understanding, watching Ron's expression as it sat with grief. That silence that I was beginning to hate crept up on us again. With a sigh, I looked around for the nearest bench for us to sit on. I nudged Ron and pointed towards it.
"Let's sit."
We settled into our seats as soon as we got to them. Ron sat to my right. My lips formed a thin line as I took a deep breath in, calculating how to approach this. Slowly, I reached into my pocket, feeling around until my fingers brushed against a familiar cardstock parchment, and pulled it out.
"I want you to have this."
Ron leaned close to me, peering over to read the small card.
Kathrine Gilroy, Psy.D.
"Who's that?"
"She's helped me a lot, my, er, Muggle therapist. I want you to be able to have her available to you, too."
"Oh. She's... she's the one that's been helping you, yeah?"
I nodded, licking my lips and holding back the sudden urge to cry.
"Yeah. And I just- I want you to have that too. Death and grief, it's..." I had to stop, blinking rapidly and taking a deep breath, trying to get my lungs to expand.
"Mate, what's going on?"
I sniffled, looking straight at Ron and keeping myself composed.
"Nothing. Just, death and grief are part of life, you know. We've both had more than our fair share of it, and," I began speaking rather rapidly, my composure thinning. "I just don't think this is the last of it, so," I scrubbed a hand over my face, then clasped them together, huffing out deliberate breaths. "Just promise me that you won't let it consume you. Don't... I want you to keep pushing forward, to find the good, and to make sure you don't forget about the family you have here with you."
Ron's brows knit close together in a way that only made my heart pound and the weight on my chest increase. He watched me intently, trying to puzzle out what I was saying.
"Harry, of course, but, where is this coming from? Are you alright?"
"Mhm," I bit my lip, forcing another breath through flared nostrils. I swallowed my nerve. "I am. I promise, I am. I just need you to promise that no matter who else you lose, you'll still be alright.
For me. Please."
Ron and I locked eyes for several stretched moments, moments in which he searched my expression seemingly not breathing and absolutely on high alert. Neither of us spoke.
Eventually, something in Ron's expression shifted, and his expression softened, eyes widening ever so slightly as his jaw went slack.
"Mate-"
"Promise that you will keep living your life," I interrupted, not willing to find out if he'd figured out the message I was relaying.
"But you can't-"
"I need you to promise me."
It felt like time had stood still in that little park a small ways from Grimmauld place. Ron still watched me with disbelief, even some alarm. I stayed calmly in my spot, waiting for him to respond.
"I promise."
I nodded, letting out a breath I'd been holding.
"You never answered me when I asked you about the curse. What have the healers said? What about Bill?"
"Ron-"
"Harry you can't have given up just like that." His words were rushed. He sounded a little bit like Hermione for a second, but I figured it was an effect of living with her and being married.
This time Ron's expression had crumpled to something awfully heartbreaking, and I winced. His eyes were becoming glassy and his face was growing red.
"There has to be something- anything. You..."
In an instant he scooped me up into a hug, burying his face into my shoulder and sniffling.
"Harry..."
We held each other fiercely tight, and Ron was noticeably losing the plot buried up against my shoulder. I could feel him squeeze his eyes shut, I could hear his breath catch, and I could see and feel the tremble of his own shoulders against me, which evolved into a bodily tremor. With each passing second, I found it more and more difficult to keep myself together. My heart ached knowing what might happen to Ron, to Hermione, to Draco and Scorpius and Teddy, to all of the Weasleys.
And to think that it was finally all over.
After what felt like a long time, We let go. Ron wiped his eyes furiously more than once. His nose and cheeks were tinged red and his eyes looked almost bloodshot through their glossiness.
"Mate..." he swallowed, working his throat. It seemed whatever he was saying at that moment had just died on his tongue. He squeezed his eyes shut one more time, taking several deep, controlled breaths.
"What did the healers say? Hermione will have a fit if she doesn't get an explanation. Harry, there has to be something, a way. All hope can't be lost- you've survived every other attack this curse has waged against you- what is it that makes you so certain-" he had to stop speaking again, swallowing and closing his eyes, reigning himself in.
Harry wondered if perhaps he hadn't waited long enough after such a tragedy as George's death right after Charlie's to tell Ron that he thought he might die, too.
And I supposed Ron had a point, or at least, he should have. What was it that makes me so certain this is the route I'm going? But how am I supposed to explain that it's in the way my bones creak in the mornings, in the way my muscles weigh me down throughout the day, in the expressions of Teddy and Scorpius, in the fearful and desperate 'I love you's' from Draco whenever I say that I don't feel well again, in the absolute and utter hopelessness that overtakes my mind each time I get sick, in the way I hold Draco right back and shower him with kisses and say 'I love you too'...
How can I possibly explain that?
"Don't tell her."
"What?"
"I want her to hear it from me. And I don't want to tell her yet because I want to be ready to have that talk with her. You know I'm not good at dealing with her when it's important,"
"But it's important... I'll be there, if you want. But don't think for a second that you won't say goodbye."
And Ron was fully and openly crying, now. And I could see in his eyes that he wanted to fight. He didn't want to believe me, and maybe I shouldn't really be believing myself, lest I seal my fate with some unrelenting Gods and make myself die faster.
Despite all of that, he was still choosing to believe in me, to take my side. That made it all the more difficult for me to stay composed for the two of us.
"Can you... tell me what the Healers said?"
"That if they don't figure things out soon, then..."
We both let my statement wither away.
"But they might still figure it out?"
"Ron,"
"They might still figure it out."
Ron blinked several times, sniffling. He wiped at his face.
"You still need to promise me that if they don't..."
"But they might," he insisted. Then, his face softened, and he reached out to my hand, taking the small card stock parchment and putting it in his own pocket.
"I promise, though."