Hey guys! Welcome to my baby, Picking Up the Pieces. I haven't finished it yet, so it won't all be posted right away, but I decided to see what people think of the beginning! I hope you guys enjoy.

DISCLAIMER: Harry and company are not mine!

Harry was late for work again. He hadn't slept well the night before, but he knew it was his own fault. If he hadn't stormed out in his anger last night instead of staying to work things out, he would have been sleeping curled around a warm, comfortable body, and would not have been kept awake by the nightmares that had plagued him since the war. He was grumpy and irritable when he made it into the office. He was always late to work after a night on his own.

Upon arriving at the Ministry, Ron, who had suffered through Auror training shortly after Harry and was now his partner for field work, was waiting for Harry at the lift. He was wearing field gear, and as Harry approached he held out another set for Harry to take.

"Robards has an assignment for us. It's a murder scene. He wants us to check it out, take pictures, bring back any evidence. It was done in a Muggle town, in a park, but it's one of ours. If you deal with the Muggles I'll canvas the scene." Ron still wasn't comfortable with interacting with Muggles.

Harry groaned internally. He had been hoping for a day in the office, filled with paperwork and files and reviewing evidence. A day in the field after a mostly-sleepless night was not what he had in mind. He sighed to himself and refocused his mind.

"Deal," Harry agreed. "Death Eaters?" he asked, knowing that there were still a few that the ministry hadn't managed to put behind bars yet, but Ron shook his head.

"According to Robards this one wasn't a sympathizer, or on our side. His whole family proclaimed to be neutral through both wars. They never gave anyone any reason to attack them."

"Alright then, let's go check out the scene," Harry said. Ron gave him the Apparation coordinates, and the two Aurors took off.

Upon their arrival, Harry was disturbed. The area was familiar to him—this was the park he generally chose to spend his troubled nights wandering in. When he had had a fight with a friend (or significant other), or wanted to be alone, or was struggling after a nightmare, he came to this park. He had been at the Muggle bar down the street last night, instead of spending his night wandering in the park. He briefly wondered if he could have prevented the attack if he had come to the park as usual, but quickly discarded the thought. There was no use dwelling on "might-have-beens" as he had been taught after the War. After today it seemed he'd have to find a new place to muse.

Even from a distance, Harry could tell the scene was gruesome. The blood spatter spread out several feet from the body, which looked as though a particularly angry beast had attacked it, except that the slashes across the body weren't from claws.

Harry and Ron showed the Muggle officers their IDs, which, thanks to the Liason office, implied that the two Aurors were from a highly classified division of Scotland Yard. Ron approached the body as Harry questioned the officers on the scene. It wasn't long, though, until Ron shouted at Harry.

"Oy, Harry! Look! We went to school with him!" As Harry looked at the face, his knees gave out. His last conscious thought as he fainted was Oh god, no. NO!

...&...

Harry stared at the cup of tea Hermione had set in front of him in silence. He had gone back with Ron to the cottage he and Hermione called home as soon as they had gotten off work for the day. After the day he'd had, he couldn't handle being alone.

When Ron went off to put his daughter, Rose to bed, Harry and Hermione sat together on the couch in silence until Hermione finally scooted closer to Harry. In the years since the war, the two of them had gotten even closer than they had been in school. After Harry had admitted to his friends he was gay Hermione had become his rock, sticking by him as he rode out the maelstrom. Many of his male friends, including Ron, had been uncomfortable around him for a while, and it was Hermione who helped him through the media storm. Since then, Hermione had been the one he confided in, the only friend who knew he wa—had been in a serious relationship.

"Harry, I'm sorry. It was him, wasn't it?" Ron had filled her in on the crime scene the two of them had been to this morning, as well as Harry's extreme reaction to the body. While Ron didn't understand why Harry had reacted the way he did, Hermione had immediately understood.

Harry closed his eyes against the pain of loss and wrapped his arms around his chest tightly. He felt as though he had a huge chasm opening inside of him and no matter what he did he couldn't keep it from widening. Hermione put her arms around Harry and held him tight. Harry placed his head on her shoulder and finally let out the tears that had been threatening all day.

It had been a while since he and Hermione had put their heads together and talked, and Harry hadn't realized how much he missed it.

"He was the one who brought you back to us, wasn't he?" It was amazing how perceptive Hermione could be, sometimes.

Harry simply nodded. He wished now that he had told Ron and the rest of his friends about their relationship, if just so that they would have realized how special he was—how important. Hermione, of course, knew that he had been special, important, everything to Harry, realizing that he had been the one to pull Harry back from the edge. Harry was glad someone knew, but he still wished with all his heart that he had told Ron and everyone else.

Blaise. Just thinking his name hurt. Harry could see his lover standing in front of him when he closed his eyes. The image on the back of his eyelids showed Blaise the way he had looked the last time Harry had seen him alive; angry, hurt, frustrated, and yelling at Harry.

"It's my fault, Hermione." Harry started, his voice choked, "It's all my fault. We fought...we fought about the same thing we always fight about. I called him...hurtful names," Harry was whispering now, his voice muffled a bit in Hermione's neck, "I called him names and stormed out. Blaise never goes to that park unless he's looking for me. I wasn't there. It's all my fault, Hermione." Harry paused, and Hermione tightened her hold on him, hugging him close. "I want to hear his voice again. Hear him tell me that it's okay, that he understands, that he knows I was just being stupid, and that we're okay. I want to apologize and hear him say that he forgives me, that it's all going to be okay. Now I never will. 'Mione, what am I supposed to do without him? I can't live without him."

"Harry, it's not your fault," Hermione told him. "You couldn't have foreseen this. It's not your fault."

He sat with his arms latched tightly around himself, trying to keep the pieces together. He couldn't open his mouth to answer Hermione. He was afraid that if he did then the pieces that were being held together so fragilely would simply fall apart. Hermione seemed to understand and she simply held him as he cried himself out.

Harry spent the night at Ron and Hermione's cottage that night, staying in their guest bedroom, since he couldn't bring himself to face the flat he had shared with Blaise. He spent a good portion of the night staring at the shapes the moonlight created on the ceiling instead of sleeping, though. He rolled himself into a tight ball, and hugged his knees tightly to his chest. He felt as though the chasm within him was growing into an emptiness that he couldn't ignore, and didn't know how to fill. No matter what position he rolled into, no matter what he tried to think of, his thoughts kept returning to Blaise.

The gaping hole in Harry's chest seemed to physically hurt, a throbbing that wouldn't ease despite Harry's attempts to get comfortable, that made him struggle for breath. His arms ached for a body that would never again lie in them.

...&...

The next morning, Harry awoke to the smell of bacon frying and smiled. Bacon meant that it was a Saturday—Blaise always cooked bacon on Saturdays. Harry opened his eyes and blinked in surprise. He wasn't at home, in the flat with Blaise, but this place was still familiar. The cottage. He was at Ron and Hermione's cottage.

Yesterday's events came rushing back to him all at once, and Harry doubled over, clutching at his chest in pain. Blaise. Blaise, Blaise, Blaise! He had lost him. What was he supposed to do without his Blaise? The only person who had ever known how close Harry had been to ending his life. The only person who had been able to make Harry stop, pull him back into the world of the living. And now he was gone.

"Harry?" Blaise whispered, his head tucked into the side of Harry's neck. They were lying together on top of the bedsheets in their brand new flat, trying to pretend the outside world didn't exist.

"Hmmm?" Harry replied, half-way asleep and not really paying attention.

"I love you."

Harry stiffened, abruptly awake, and sat up to look Blaise in the eyes. "What?"

"I mean it. I love you." Blaise said, with a small smile, still lying back in bed, relaxed. Harry stared at the beautiful man, shocked.

"You can't love me," he said, panicked.

"Why's that?" Blaise asked looking hurt.

"Because people who care about me, and who I care about die," Harry whispered. "They leave me, in the end."

Blaise sat up and placed his hands on either side of Harry's face to look straight into his eyes.

"I love you, and I'm not going anywhere," Blaise told him, "I will never leave you."

"Promise?" Harry asked.

"Promise."

A broken sob escaped from Harry's throat, and tears blurred his vision. He couldn't live without Blaise. His Blaise who made the world seem lighter with a single glance. Who danced around the kitchen while cooking, humming off-pitch. Who kissed as though they would run out of time. Who had promised to never leave him.

"You left me, Blaise," Harry whispered into his chest. "You promised, but you left me."

Hermione must have heard his sob, because she was suddenly sitting next to Harry on the bed. She reached up and stroked Harry's hair, gently. She didn't shush him, or tell him that it would be alright, instead, she sat with him in silence, stroking his hair and holding his hand. Hermione understood. It wasn't going to be alright, it would never again be alright, and there was no point in pretending it would be.

Harry gasped for breath, his raking sobs taking him by surprise.

"Let it out, Harry. Don't hold it back, just let it out," Hermione told him, and wrapped her arms around his shaking form.

Harry turned his head into her shoulder and cried.

Hope you guys enjoyed! Please review and let me know what you think!