Harry Potter counted things. It became a sort of coping mechanism since that day. That day was sixty-four days ago. Fifty of those days had been uncharacteristically sunny.
Three-hundred-and-twenty-one witches and wizards had been lost as a result of Voldemort's actions, he knows because he counted every name, every filled report of missing people declared dead and every documented body found.
The minister of magic refused to let him back into the ministry after that. He said he needed to take time to heal and not worry about those who didn't make it. To instead worry about those who did.
Fifty-eight of the sixty-four nights that had passed he had been plagued with nightmares, whether it had been him or Ron or Hermione whom had both taken to sharing a room with him at 12 Grimmauld Place. Tonight made fifty-nine.
~~
He was back at hogwarts, not in his warm bed in his godfathers old room where he was meant to be. He looked around in confusion, the rubble caused by wayward spells exuding dust that made his eyes sting. He watches as Hermione duels a faceless man unable to move as that familiar green light shoots towards her. Unable to scream, no matter how hard he tried as one of his best friends crumples to the ground unable to move as the other falls broken hearted besides her.
"It's all your fault Harry," he hears echoing around him. "Harry, it's all your fault, it's your fault Harry, Harry,-"
-"Harry!" Hermione's voice calls out as the woman shakes him. "Wake up,"
The second he gains enough consciousness, he throws himself into her open arms sobbing into her shoulder.
He feels his bed dip from the weight of another person on his other side as strong freckled arms envelop them both. "You're alive, you're okay," Hermione mutters gripping onto her best friends, her family, tight.
"We're alive, we're okay" Ron amends.
They stay there holding onto each other for a while, listening to the creaking of the old house, Kreacher's far off snoring, the ancient grandfather clock ticking ominously down the hall.
When the sun comes up, the trio are sprawled out together fast asleep, Harry half on Hermione's back with his face buried in her mousey brown hair, Ron on his other side, legs wrapped around him in a vice like grip with his arm thrown all the way across his waist so that it rests on Hermione's back end.
When Harry does wake up, he counts this as the forty-ninth time he has woken up in a bed with his best friends. It happens five other times that week, four the next. That month, it happened twenty three times, the month after, it happened seventeen times. The month after that one Harry forgets to count a couple of the nights, and many months after that, Harry stops counting things
He starts counting people or rather counting on them. Starting with the two he can always count on, the two who have been, and will be there with him through thick and thin.
He counts on Hermione and Ron, and let's them count on him. They're the reason that one day, many years latter, he realises he's stopped counting.
—
This is just a super short fic that probably makes zero sense and sounded way better in my head. I'm dedicating this to KajolDani for her birthday. I hope you have an amazing day and thank you for being someone who I can and do count on, I love you to the moon and back infinite times. I'd also like to wish all of you a merry Christmas (or happy holidays if you don't celebrate Christmas) and a happy new year. May you all get everything you've ever wished for xo
-DJ
Date published: Tuesday the twenty-fourth of December, 2019.
Total word count: 652
