In the Melancholy Moonlight

Chapter CLXXXIV: Hit It

HENRY:

The entire room let out a collective sigh of relief when the examiners said we were free to go. At the end of O.W.L.s, everyone had cheered. At the end of N.E.W.T.s, however, everyone was just so amazed that we had survived — and so sleep-deprived because of our survival — that we couldn't bring ourselves to celebrate at first beyond that sigh.

As soon as we left the room, though, everyone suddenly remembered the seventh-year tradition of sneaking off to Hogsmeade the night after N.E.W.T.s ended. "Sneaking" would be a better descriptor for what was about to happen; all of the people who lived in Hogsmeade knew about and encouraged the tradition, and the professors always turned a blind eye to the trickle of students slipping in and out of the castle over the course of the evening.

Martin rushed over to me, beaming. "Where first? Honeyduke's or the Three Broomsticks?"

"I think I'm going to catch up with you all later," I said, running a hand down my face. "I've hardly slept in weeks. I need a nap before I'm ready to celebrate."

"Aw, come on! Surely you're not that tired!"

But I was already yawning as I shook my head. "I wouldn't be any fun. I feel like I'd fall asleep into my butterbeer. I'll find you lot once I wake up."

"Alright, alright," Martin relented, "whatever you say, you old man."

"Piss off," I said with a tired grin, shoving him on the shoulder as he went off to join the rest of our friends.

I wasn't lying, necessarily. I was utterly exhausted. It had been a long year.

I wasn't lying, necessarily. If I woke up to an empty dormitory, I would head off to Hogsmeade and try to find my friends.

I wasn't lying, necessarily. I wouldn't be any fun, but for more reasons than just the threat of falling asleep into my butterbeer.

In my trunk, back in our dormitory, was a worn piece of parchment. Cedric had left so soon after our last O.W.L. ended that he hadn't gotten a chance to celebrate with us, so to cheer him up, I had sent him a blank timetable for him to fill out with what he wanted to do to celebrate the end of N.E.W.T.s with me two years later. Cedric being Cedric hadn't wanted to have complete control over everything we did, so we sent the parchment back and forth all summer, adding one activity each time. It was ridiculous, including items like "Unwrap two Chocolate Frogs and have them race down the main street of Hogsmeade" for between 6:00 and 7:00 (after much debate about how fast they would actually be able to hop), and incredibly detailed, everything planned to the minute. We'd gotten quite a good laugh because of it, and even though neither of us placed too much stock in following the schedule perfectly, it meant something to both of us.

But that parchment was somewhere near the bottom of my trunk, buried. I still fully intended to go to Hogsmeade, have what fun I could with my friends who were left because Merlin only knew when we'd get the chance to have that kind of fun all — mostly — together again, but I needed a moment to grieve first.

And a nap. I needed a nap.

The Hufflepuff common room was empty when I arrived, so I immediately crossed the room to the coziest sofa and flopped down on it.

"You did it, Henry!" Cedric's portrait called. "How'd it go?"

I didn't bother lifting my face from the pillow I'd crashed onto. "It went well. I think. I hope. I need a nap."

His laugh filled the room. "Sounds like it. Sweet dreams."

I gave the portrait a thumbs-up and pulled the hood of my robes over my head.