Boys Don't Cry
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, except Matthew and the plot.
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I'm sorry if the Voldemort thing seemed kind of off.. It was my first time writing one of Harry's encounters with him- I've never had the courage to actually write one.. I was afraid that I might mess it all up, and I really really didn't want to do that.
I'm not sure as to how many chapters there will be left after this. Probably one. Maybe two. There might be three, but I somehow really doubt that. I don't really know; I'm uncertain at this point. BUT THIS FIC IS NOT YET FINISHED.
Review, please! I still want to know what you think. Oh, and a reviewer asked me if I took requests on fanfics also titled by a Cure song. Well, you could email me, and I will definitely consider it, but I already have a lot of Cure songs I am planning to base my fanfics on- not really base, but title it by the song, and kind of base it, I guess. But yes, please email me if you have a request and I'll see if I can do a fic on it.
Thanks to all the reviewers! And thanks to Tic-Tac for reviewing; I really really admire your work! It meant a lot to me.
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Abandon
Harry doubled over, shaking violently. The rain was pelting down on his skin, soaking through his robes. His hair and cold sweat stuck to his forehead, the cold downpour and wind sweeping through him. He was clutching his stomach, blood running down his hands and forearms. His vision was blinking and darkening, his world spinning rapidly. His body was sore, shock and pain shooting up through his body. His heart was pounding hard, threatening to leap out. He could taste the metallic and bile taste of blood filling his mouth. His wand was still in his hand, knees to the floor. The icy rain explored his palms, seeping into his wounds. He could feel the firm ground underneath him, the shrieking still echoing in his ears as he had shouted the final spell.
The final spell that ended it all.
It was over. It was finally over.
Harry looked up, his glasses cracked and severed badly, but he could still see the dark figure sprawled across the wet ground. He tried to stand, his legs feeling as if they had been broken and torn apart, but he bared the pain. He slowly walked over to him.
Voldemort. Dead. Gone.
The bastard was finally gone.
Harry could still feel anger, bitterness and hate swell up inside of him, looking down at the limp and lifeless body on the ground. He kicked it, with all his force, as he heard a sickening sound of bones breaking and flesh being ripped apart. Harry pointed his wand, trembling slightly, as he muttered a spell. Almost instantly, a glowing, menacing white fire blazed on the body. He could hear the crackling, the sound of the fire as it slowly ate away at his flesh. Harry burned Voldemort's wand along with his body, charring it into a pile of black powder that soon disintegrated and vanished. He watched the body burn, cold and dark satisfaction playing across his heart.
"You're pathetic, " he said, watching the body burn. It consumed his organs, devoured its bones. "A fool."
The rain did not let up, raining harder, but that did not disturb the white fire. It glowed and flickered strongly, blanketing the body and eating it whole. There would be nothing left, except memories. The body would be gone. It was finally over.
He had killed him. Voldemort. Just as he swore he would.
The sky was dark, the moon almost slightly smiling down on him. The trees swayed, the wind sang and bellowed. The rain tasted sweet, filling him and making him numb to his toes. Blood ran down his face, as he touched his scar.
It was gone. That blinding pain. It was gone. And it was never to return.
He raised his trembling hand to his face, smearing off the blood. His flesh felt smoldered, burned and twisting painfully inside. His veins had been warped and had been torn apart, blood pouring out. His skin felt tight, as if he had suddenly grown too much to wear it. There was pain, he could not deny it.
But then there was victory.
His robes were torn, his wrist broken on his left arm. There was a deep gash on his cheek, the wound stinging and throbbing. But most of all, he felt his heart. It was beating fiercely, hammering. He was alive.
He was going to return.
The flames played, fighting, as the rest of the body had disappeared. The fire played like a monster's mouth, devouring flesh and leaving no remains. It did not need a jaw full of jagged and sharp teeth; it did not need a throat or even a stomach. It just ate and consumed, neater than Dragons or monsters ever would. But it was brutal and vicious; performing such a spell could only be perfected from anger, coldness, and hate. It was a difficult and complex spell; everything could go wrong if it was enacted wrong even in the slightest way. But he had perfected it, training and practicing for this day. It was one of his most favorite spells, although it was such dark magic, because he knew that it would be the one he would use to dispose of his body. He knew that he would use it in the end.
He kept these things from people. Hermione never knew he was capable of such dark magic. Because he didn't want her to know; he didn't see any reason that she had to. He would never show this side when he was around her, unless it was desperately needed. This side, his dark side, was something rare but intense and powerful. Many people had never seen him this way, and if they had, they would call him ruthless, cruel and evil. Only he wasn't. He wasn't ruthless and cruel, or evil even in the smallest way. But everyone has that side, he knew. Everyone could be capable of doing evil things, of murdering and killing. Some of them relent too easily, the hunger and thirst for murder, as the case for Voldemort and his Death Eaters. But most of them don't even think of considering it.
Harry Potter was not ashamed of what he had done. Nor was he proud. He felt empty, in a strange way. But he felt, almost immediately that the spell had hit him, that burden, that heavy burden that he had carried for far too long, being lifted off. And now it was gone. He no longer felt as if he had boundaries, blockades, or as if he was chained to some invisible wall. He was finally free.
They were all finally free.
The flames flickered, as the vanished. There wasn't a single trace, a sign. He was gone; Voldemort no longer had any haunting remains that could possibly revive him. The white fire slowly began to shrink, becoming smaller and smaller, its licks shorter and shorter. The rain poured down, sliding down his skin, the ground wet and muddy.
The flames disappeared, as Harry just stood, looking down at the exact spot where Voldemort had been. Slowly, he looked up at the sky, tasting the raindrops filling his mouth. He closed his eyes, feeling his heartbeats slowly fade as the sound and feel of rain swept through him. The cold numbed him, but he could still feel it as strongly as before. He could hear the rustles of the leaves swaying in the trees, the sound of the wind whispering to him. But suddenly, feeling a strange whisk around him, he felt a slight tug and opened his eyes.
He was back. He saw bodies on the floor, Death Eaters, and wounded members of the Order. As they saw him, their eyes widened as a smile dominated over their tired and exhausted faces. He heard shouts, cheers, as people rushed over to him. Dumbledore, his hand on his shoulder, beaming at Harry. Remus came and gave him a strong hug, smiling happily with tears in his eyes. The other members came, patting him on the back, smiling and crying at the same time, giving him hugs. Harry managed a crooked smile as he watched the others, grinning happier than he had ever seen them. Even the injured were smiling and cheering. Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder tightened, as Harry turned and smiled at him before he left to assist some members. Remus stayed at his side.
"It's finally over," Harry said quietly.
"It is. Because of you. You did this, Harry. Look around. Look how happy they are, how grateful they are," Remus said. Harry nodded.
"They deserve it." Remus looked at Harry. He smiled, chuckling.
"You look like hell, Harry." Harry smiled.
"Thanks, Remus. Same to you." Remus grinned, putting an arm around Harry. Harry winced, and Remus laughed as he pulled away.
"Sorry. I forgot that if you look like hell, you must feel like hell."
"I won't deny that one," Harry agreed.
"We're going to get to St. Mungo's to heal and get better before we get home." Harry beamed, feeling a warmth rise in him as he mentioned home. Remus noticed this.
"Ready to go home, Harry?"
"Too ready," he grinned, his emerald eyes sparkling.
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They stopped at St. Mungo's, as many healers came and treated their wounds, making them drink potions and serums for any aftereffects of the spells.
As soon as they saw Harry and the Order, smiling happily, they quickly caught on. First they were shocked, in awe of the young boy's achievement, but soon they were cheering and clapping, rushing to Harry. They all asked questions, as Harry wearily answered as many as he could. Many of them had tears in their eyes, thanking Harry repeatedly, as Harry just smiled and told them that it was no problem.
Soon, he was swept into a room as they mended his broken wrist and healed his cuts and gashes. They mended his glasses, giving him serums to make sure he was in perfect health. After about a three hours, Dumbledore and the others began to apparate back to where the others were, patiently waiting for the verdict.
Harry could feel his heart beating loudly and rapidly, as he heard Dumbledore's orders. He had practically leaped out of the bed, eager to return.
He was going to see her again. He was finally going to tell her that he loved her.
He was returning. Just as he promised.
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They apparated, almost all at once. As soon as they landed, everyone burst into tears and applauses, cheers loud and smiles enormous. They all rushed to Harry and the others, bringing them into tight embraces and tearful thank-yous. But as he tried to get through the crowd, he did not see the one he had been most eager and determined to see. He searched through the smiling faces, as they congratulated him and thanked him enthusiastically. He did not see her.
Where was she?
Harry rushed into the kitchen, hoping she would be there, but there was no one. He heard the laughter and happy conversations in the other room, but all he could focus on was Hermione.
Where could she possibly be?
Harry heard footsteps, as he whirled around. Molly Weasley was standing in the doorway, holding a butterbeer in one hand, smiling.
"Harry," she said, walking towards him. Harry stared at her, and swallowed hard as she handed him the butterbeer. He took it from her, slowly.
"Where is she?" he asked. "Is she alright?" He felt panic swarm through his body. She sighed, as she smiled slightly. She sat down, and she motioned him to take a seat. He gradually sat down, never taking his gaze off her.
"Hermione.. she-" she paused, as she looked at him uncertainly. "When she woke up, after you had gone.. she was shocked, afraid. She did not know where you were, if something had happened to you. But I came up and told her that you had gone.. to the Final Battle. She didn't understand. She looked for you, calling around the house. But as I insisted that you were not here, that you were gone, she.." Molly looked at him, her blue eyes sad. "She did not sleep, she did not eat any of her meals, while you were away, Harry. She locked herself up in her room, crying and refusing to talk to anyone." Harry felt guilt build up in him immensely. She sighed. "We were getting worried, and tried some spells on her door to get it unlocked, but she used some unbreakable charms that we were not able to get through. Until, this morning, Matthew used a spell just as powerful as hers, and got her door to open. We got her to take a sleeping potion, so she's asleep right at this moment. I'm sorry, Harry," she said. Harry nodded, staring at the butterbeer in his hand. "I know that you wanted to see her when you got back.. I'm sorry."
"That's alright, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said quietly. "Do you know when she'll wake?"
"She should be awake by noon tomorrow." There was silence, as Harry felt thoughts and questions cloud his mind. Just as Molly began to stand, Harry spoke.
"Is she angry?" Harry asked, as Molly froze. She looked at him, puzzled. "Is she upset about me leaving her here, without asking for her consent?" Molly's eyes darkened.
"I'm not sure, Harry," she said. "She didn't speak to us at all." Harry looked down at his hand; completely clean from the wounds he had gotten from the battle. There were no scars, no scratches or even a trace of what had been there.
"She's upstairs," she said. "You can go visit her," she looked at him. "She missed you, Harry. She'll be overjoyed that you're back." And with that, she left him in the kitchen. Slowly, Harry raised the glass to his lips, as he felt the sweet liquid fill his mouth and warm him as it traveled down his throat. He felt a sort of empty sensation filling him, despite the affects of the butterbeer, his fingers buzzing and his skin feeling fuzzy.
He felt guilty about leaving her, so much, but he knew there was no other way. Somehow, deep inside, he knew that she was upset, although he insisted that she was a reasonable person and would understand. Which she was, but when it came to matters such as this..
When it came to him, she would do things that he was sure she didn't even think out the least bit. She was willing to come with him, into the Final Battle. She knew that she was going to get killed if she did, but she still insisted.
She loved him. So much that she would risk her life for him.
He loved her too much to let her.
He slowly drank the butterbeer until the glass was empty. He licked his lips, the sweet aftertaste affix in his mouth. He put the glass down on the table, the laughter and conversations distinct to his ears from the room next door. He sighed, closing his eyes and digging his head into his hands.
He was supposed to be overjoyed, to be happy and in a state of absolute bliss. He had killed Voldemort. He was supposed to be having the time of his life. So why was it that he was feeling this way? Sort of.. empty and dull? He dug his fingers into his scalp, his fingertips cold and almost icy. He could feel the warmth from his head, rising to his hand and palms. He missed her. Too much. He had wanted to see her, her sparkling brown eyes, her breathtaking smile. He wanted to hold her tightly and never let go, kiss her until he was turning blue from the lack of air. He wanted to tell her, to confess his love for her the day he got back. He wanted to show her that he had not broken his promise.
Somewhere, deep in his heart, he knew she felt betrayed. As if he had abandoned her, in a way. And he did, he had left her behind, because he couldn't risk the possibility of her getting hurt or killed. He knew too well what was to happen if he had allowed her to come. And he had been scared, nervous, just terrified out of his wits.
He could not lose her. He just couldn't.
Not like he had lost his parents and Sirius. He had had enough with the people he loved dying and leaving him all alone. He just knew that he wouldn't be able to take it.
He knew that if she had died, he wouldn't have been able to let her go though she was already gone.
He heard a voice, as he raised his head and looked up with weary eyes. Remus was there, grinning happily.
"Harry? Why don't you come join the party?" Harry shook his head.
"I'm not feeling up to it, Remus," Harry said quietly. Remus frowned at him.
"What's wrong?"
"Hermione," Harry said. "She's still asleep." Remus looked at him, before he came in and sat down next to him.
"Well, then.. Can't you wake her up?"
"No, Remus," Harry said. "She's asleep. She hasn't had any sleep at all for the past four days because of me. I left her. I didn't even say goodbye. I didn't even write her a note as to why I did what I did." Remus sighed.
"So this is what it's about, is it, now?" he said. "Love? You love her, don't you, Harry?" Harry nodded. "Saying goodbye hurts, I know that," he said, looking at Harry sadly. "You feel like you're just reassuring the fact that you're never going to see her again, and you don't want that."
"But I told her that I would. But instead, I just left her. I abandoned her, Remus." Remus shook his head.
"No, Harry. We both know that you did what was right. She'll understand."
"You don't know her," Harry said. "You don't know what she's willing to do for me. She was going to follow me into the battle. She knew that she was going to die if she did so, but she still insisted."
"So you're saying that she won't understand?"
"I.. I don't know. I was hoping that I'd find out tonight." Remus looked at him, his eyes dark.
"And what if she does, what'll you do then?" Harry smiled slightly.
"Well, I was hoping that I'd ask her to marry me." Remus's eyes widened, staring at Harry. Harry felt a blush warm his cheeks, still keeping his expression serious.
"Harry, marrying her? That's a big step. You're only eighteen-"
"Nineteen in a couple of months," Harry cut in.
"-and you've still got a few more months of Hogwarts-"
"We'll get married after we graduate," Harry said. "Please understand, Remus. I love her. I fought Voldemort as hard as I did because I knew she was counting on me to return. And I returned to be with her. I returned because I love her, and I really do want to spend the rest of my life with her." Remus quieted down, looking at the serious expression on Harry's face.
"Harry.. are you sure you're ready? I mean.. I'm not even married." Harry smirked.
"You're the one afraid of commitment. Not me. You've got Tonks and you know she loves you as much. She'd surely say yes if you'd just ask her." Remus frowned at him.
"We were talking about you and Hermione, not me or my personal life." Harry grinned. Remus continued. "How are you going to support yourselves? You're going to need a place to stay, and-"
"I'm going to get a job," Harry said. "And I've still got plenty of money left to support us for years. I've thought about it all before, Remus." Remus sighed, looking at Harry. His face seemed to be heavy with weariness and concern.
"You've really grown up," he remarked. "I wasn't even thinking about marrying when I was your age. And yet, here you are, talking about love and marriage. And you seem so sure about it, is what's so odd." He smiled softly, his eyes sparkling, as if remembering. "You have so much of James in you. Your spirit.. nothing could ever make me doubt that you're his son." Harry smiled.
"Thanks Remus. And as for me growing up.. life tends to do these things to you. It teaches you things. Pain, hardships.. love," he smiled wider. "It makes you wiser, in a sense. It really changes you. People say time changes things and people, but time is only such a small part of it all." Remus smiled wider.
"Well, that's the truest thing I've heard in years."
There was silence, as Remus stared at the doorway, and Harry stared at his hands. It was a while before Remus spoke again. "Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"How do you know? I mean.. that'd she'd be the one you'd love and be happy with for the rest of your life?" Harry grinned, his emerald eyes twinkling.
"I just do."
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Harry lay awake in his room, the darkness around him thick but fresh. The air was cold but refreshing, the night breeze sweeping by ever now and then from his open window. He was weary and exhausted, but somehow, he could not manage to drift off. Which was odd, since he hadn't had any sleep in four to five days. The moonlight spilled across the carpet, glowing and visible in the dark. The house seemed quiet, just the few footfalls and creaks every now and then. He stared up at the black ceiling, his mind still persisting to think about Hermione.
He wished for her to be by his side. The bed felt empty, cold. He missed hearing her rhythmic breaths, holding her to him and enjoying the feeling of just being so close to her.
Even now he missed her.
Slowly, Harry got out of his bed and crept out of his room. He made his way across the hallway and down the corridor, trying to be as quiet as possible. Finally, he reached her room and went inside.
From her window was the full sight of the moon. The glowing light illuminated her room, the darkness not so deep and dark as it was in the other rooms. He walked over to her, feeling his heartbeats cease as he stopped by her beside.
He did not need light to see just how beautiful she was.
The moonlight was enough. It dominated and softened the dark and gloomy atmosphere, as he could see the shades and features of her face. He smiled, feeling his heart skip a beat, as he leaned down next to her bed. He watched her, hearing her shallow breaths and seeing the serene expression on her face. She looked deathly pale in the moonlight, her skin almost glowing against the darkness. Her lips mouth was parted slightly, as he leaned over and clasped his hand gently over hers. He raised his hand, stroking her hair and brushing away the curls that fell across her face. His fingertips tingled and hummed pleasantly, feeling the smoothness and softness of her hair. His fingers trailed down her face, caressing her cheek. He smiled, taking in the sight of her so peaceful and calm. His hand tightened around hers.
"I'm back, Hermione," he whispered to her, his emerald eyes glittering visibly even in the dark. He stroked her hair, brushing his fingers across her forehead. "I'm back, just like I promised. I told you that I wasn't going to leave you. I told you that you weren't going to have to do anything alone. I'm right here. I'm right here beside you." He leaned in and placed a kiss on her forehead, and then her hand. He slowly let go of her hand, missing the warmth that he had just held, as he stood up, looking down at her. He gave her one last look full of longing and love, before turning to walk back to his room. He walked quietly across her room, and closed the door gently behind him.
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He awoke late around about an hour before noon. He had come to check on Hermione, but saw that Molly Weasley was just coming out of her room. He rushed to her, eager. She smiled at him.
"Is she awake yet?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, Harry," she said. "Not yet. Not for another two hours, at most," she saw the disappointed look on his face, as she spoke again. "Harry, you should get some breakfast, chat with the others, or maybe even fly outside for a little while. I know that battle was hard on you, and you ate almost nothing last night, so I'm sure you're pretty hungry." Harry nodded, smiling only faintly. He ran a hand through his hair.
"You're right. I should also clean myself up, too. Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he said. She nodded.
"No problem, Harry. I will be sure to come to you immediately when she wakes." Harry headed down to the kitchen, Molly walking behind him. As they entered, he sat down at the table, as he said good morning to Remus and another boy whom he had never seen before. Molly quickly placed a plate full of food in front of him, as Harry suddenly just realized just how hungry he was. He took a bite of his pancakes, as Remus took a sip of his pumpkin juice.
"How's Ron, Molly?" Remus asked. He heard a sigh from behind him.
"He owled me yesterday, stubborn as he is. I told him not to, but boys never do listen to their mothers, do they?" she let out another deep sigh. "He said he's doing just fine, although he was eager to know what happened at the battle. He wanted to know how Harry and Hermione were, and if we knew if Harry had defeated him."
"Is he still angry?" Harry asked abruptly, as Remus raised an eyebrow at him. "I mean.. I know that he was upset that I didn't let him come along, especially when Hermione came. He wasn't speaking to me at all when we left."
"Oh, don't worry about him, Harry," she said. "Ron's so temper mental; goes ballistic even at the littlest things. He'll get over it soon enough. And besides, even if you were willing to let him come, I sure wouldn't have let him."
"I caught him muttering about it, some time ago," Remus said. "Said that it wasn't fair that Hermione got to go, and that the only reason Harry took her and didn't take him was because he fancies her too bloody much," Remus stopped chewing on his toast. "Those were his exact words." Harry choked on the piece of his pancake he was eating. He remembered that hadn't told the Weasleys yet, and he was hoping that he would once Hermione woke up, so that they could tell everyone together all at once. Harry raised his glass to his lips, coughing, as he gulped down the sweet, cold fluid. He gave Remus a death glare, just as he put the glass down.
Remus shrugged at him. Molly gasped.
"Oh my! Ronald said that?" she said, quite irritated. "I swear, that boy's got to learn some manners.." she halted, mid-sentence. She came up from behind Harry, and sat next to him. Harry could feel his cheeks warming up. She smiled at him.
"Harry.. You and Hermione.. Was what he said true?" Harry cast a glance at Remus, who was stifling a smile and laughter as best as he could. Harry looked down.
"I.. I love her," Harry said quietly. "If that's what you mean." Molly beamed at him.
"Well, that's just wonderful!" she exclaimed. "I always thought you two would make such a darling couple! Oh, and when you two are together.." Molly's eyes twinkled with happiness. "She's positively glowing when you're around her," she continued. "And you seem as if you're the happiest person in the world." Harry managed a smile, relieved at the Weasley's reaction.
He wondered how Ron would take it.
"Well, that seems just about right," he heard someone say. He looked over to the boy sitting in front of Remus. He had long, dark hair with the eyes to match it. He was about his age, skinny and fairly tall. He was pale, and Harry got the odd feeling of familiarity. He recognized him, somehow. Remus put down his glass.
"Oh, forgive me," he said. "I forgot to introduce you two. He looked at the boy, smiling. "Matthew, this is Harry," Harry nodded at him. "Harry, this is Matthew." The boy met him with a serious but unreadable expression. "Snape's son."
Harry's eyes widened. Something flashed inside him, and suddenly he knew as to why he had looked so familiar. Professor Snape. They had the same dark hair, dark eyes.. But the boy's features were softer, and he looked like what the younger Snape would've looked like.
"Snape's? I didn't know he had a son," Harry remarked.
"I've been living with my mother these past years," he said, revealing a dark voice that too, was oddly familiar. "I saw him, but rarely. He came by to visit on my birthdays and Holidays, but only that." His eyes seemed so dark, even darker than Snape's, from what he could remember. "I knew he was in the Order, but he denied it whenever I asked him. However, he brought me here one day, introducing me and making me meet everyone. He told me that he wanted me to be in the Order, and had already asked Dumbledore specifically. Dumbledore agreed. They took me in soon after my father died." Harry felt something unsettling wriggle inside him restlessly. He looked down, guilt and regret mounding. Matthew spoke again.
"I don't blame you for his death. No one does. He died because he was trying to save our only hope for the future. It wasn't your fault." Harry closed his eyes, sighing. He remembered that night. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had ambushed them, and just as Voldemort was about to kill him..
Snape had dove in front of him, and was hit with the curse instead.
He could still remember the look of lifelessness and that empty, glossy look in his dark eyes. His face was deathly white. He remembered the feeling of panic and a mixture of emotions spread through him, seeing his teacher lay before him, dead.
He had died trying to save him. Severus Snape, the Professor he had despised for almost all his years at Hogwarts, had died for him. Harry Potter.
"I'm sorry," Harry said to Matthew. Matthew shook his head.
"Don't be. It wasn't your fault." Harry sighed, opening his eyes.
"I know, but I should've.. done something. I just wasn't expecting.."
"Him to save you with his own life?" Matthew finished. Harry nodded solemnly. "I can see why. He was never really a good person. But he tried to make up for it by saving you."
"He despised me," Harry said. "I just didn't know why he would do such a thing."
"He did what he knew was right. What everyone knew was right. And, I know what you mean about him not exactly being the most decent Professor to you… But he's just a very odd person," Matthew said, shaking his head and chuckling. Harry managed to crack a smile. He looked at Remus, then at Matthew.
"I'm going to go clean myself up before she wakes," Harry said, as they nodded at him. Harry excused himself and headed up to the bathroom.
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When he got out of the shower, trying to tame his hair as best as he could and had dressed up, Hermione was still not awake.
"Still another half-hour," Harry sighed. So he took Molly's advice, as he headed into his room and grabbed his broom, before he made his way outside.
The day was absolutely beautiful. The sun was shining, its rays bright but soft. The skies were the bluest he had ever seen them, wisps of white clouds hovering above. The wind was blowing gently, kissing and caressing his skin. He felt the fresh, cold breeze ruffle through his hair, wrapping around him for a mere second before unraveling and wafting away. He held his broom tightly in his hand, before climbing on and pushing his feet against the firm ground. And before he knew it, he was high up in the air.
He could feel the wind in his ears, sweeping and whispering. He felt the coldness and fresh air press against his skin, his elevation increasing more and more each minute. Finally he halted, as he opened his eyes. He grinned.
The rich sapphire sky was never-ending, stretching towards into forever. Everywhere he looked, it was there, welcoming him somehow. He could feel that peace and calmness invade him, making his fingers almost numb on the handle. He could hear the wind swaying, and the leaves of the trees dancing along. This was where he found it. That certain peace that he never really knew he could achieve until he experienced it. Here, being high up in the sky, the abundant blue sky embracing him with its infinite arms and the wind singing softly..
This was where he could figure it all out. Everything. His worries and fears would just fade away.. as if just vanishing into thin air. And maybe, somehow, he felt empty. As if there was a vast void, from where his worries and doubts used to have been. But he did not miss it. He liked feeling relaxed and serene.
And he knew all too well that feeling that way was too hard to find in this world.
Yet, he had found it. It was right here.
Just then, he heard a distant yelling. He looked down, and saw a red-haired lady on the ground. He tilted his broom as he neared the land. He saw that it was Mrs. Weasley, out of breath and flushed. She was panting, gasping for air.
"She's awake!" she yelled. "She's awake, Harry!" Harry felt something swell up inside him, as he quickly stepped down into the ground and thanked her. She nodded at him, as he sprinted through the yard and into the house.
He could not suppress a wide grin as he ran through the corridors and hallways, making his way up the stairs. His heart was beating hard, his mind swarming with thoughts of her. Hermione. He ran down the hall, and halted in front of her room. He tried to shallow his breath, panting hard, excitement and eagerness bursting inside of him.
His breaths returned to their normal pace, as he grasped the doorknob, the metal feeling cold to his hands. He twisted it slowly, as he opened the door.