ghost stories - h. potter

Thirty-Four

May the second came too quickly for Belle's liking. She spent the morning in the great hall surrounded by her family, the Weasley's, Andromeda and Teddy, remembering those who they had lost in the war. It had been an emotional event and Belle hardly doubted there were any dry eyes in the hall once McGonagall had finished her speech.

Harry had been especially quiet that morning. He spent his time hiding at the back of the room and dodging the reporters who had had the indecency to turn up at Hogwarts in the hopes of talking to the so-called war hero. He wasn't a war hero, he was a grieving boy who was being smothered, his personal space non-existant to the reporters.

Belle spent the day wandering the corridors, greeting the spirits of those who had died in the war. There were over a hundred of them, some of them good and some of them bad. She kept her conversations with the Death Eaters who had shown up and were known for being some of Voldemort's biggest followers, fairly short. However, she spent ages talking to the younger children, conversing with the adults and interacting with the students who would stay that age until they passed over into the afterlife. It was emotionally exhausting and the day had taken a toll on her, which was why she was just about ready to burst into tears and fall into a deep sleep by the time eight o'clock came around. Her legs felt like jelly beneath her as she walked up the stairs to the Astronomy tower, growing closer and closer to Harry who was already sitting there, waiting for her. His legs hung off the side of the tower, dangling in the air below him and Belle stopped just before she reached the top. She looked back at her friends, the small family gathered below her and Lily, right at the front, gave her an encouraging nod.

"We're right here, Belle," Sirius said quietly.

"You can do this," Cedric added. Fred gave her a comforting smile and the nod, the motion quickly copied by everyone else standing below her. She sucked in a shaky breath and stepped up the final stair, her shoes clunking gently against the metal floor below her. Harry looked up at the sound, his head turning towards it. He smiled gently when he saw Belle and she returned it, her face rather pale. Her hands were shaking with nerves and she exhaled when she took a seat next to him. Their arms brushed slightly, the contact just being enough for the two of them at that moment and for a moment, it was completely silent. They kept their heads facing forwards, basking in the aftermath that came with the heavy day and Harry sighed, running a hand through his messy, black hair.

"How are you?" Belle asked gently and Harry glanced over at her.

"I'm... I'm okay. It was just difficult, you know? With everyone asking me questions and the reporters..."

"I get it," Belle said quietly, before she frowned gently.

"I mean, I don't get how you're feeling, being coddled by the reporters and everything but it was a difficult day. I get that." Harry nodded at her words, his hand reaching out to take hers. Her hand was cold and he felt it shaking slightly, causing him to raise an eyebrow.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"You're shaking."

"I-" she started, but cut herself off by swallowing thickly.

"There's just something I need to tell you. Something I've been meaning to tell you for a while and I promised you a while ago that I would tell you tonight and I'm not going to go back on that promise." Harry turned to face the girl, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Belle?" He asked worriedly.

"It's okay," she said as she pulled her hand away from his and exhaled shakily. She turned to face him, her back leaning up against the stone of the pillar holding up the roof of the tower that sat unwavering over their heads. The small family stood beside Belle, Cedric and Fred sitting next to her.