Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter, but I love to write about them.
Author's note: I managed to churn this chapter out when I was taking a study break. I hope it's good. I know it's quite short, but it was the best I could do.
For my dear Melissa, who knows the agony of wanting to write fanfics but can't because of exams.
The sun beat down on his back, as the young man trudged onward, his head lowered so as to avoid the blinding glares of the afternoon sunlight, the sleeves of his worn jacket pushed up and his backpack swung carelessly across one shoulder. He walked with a slight limp, slowly, almost as if every step he took pained him, which in some way it did.
His life had fallen into some sort of routine and he was used to it, waking up each morning, knowing what he was supposed to do. Trek a few miles on foot, stop for lunch, take his medication and then find a place to camp for the night, get some sleep and then wake up the next day to do the entire thing over again.
For some people, this kind of monotony would have driven them mad, but for Harry Potter, it felt good.
It felt wonderful to have his life in some sort of routine, Merlin knew his whole life had been nothing but one surprise after the other around every corner and he was grateful for the predictable schedule of each day. He had never seriously entertained the thought of what his life would be like after defeating Voldermort, not being a very forward-looking person. But right now, he was just content to know what he was supposed to do everyday.
The hot glare of the sun diminished suddenly as it disappeared behind a few clouds and his shadow that had been previously in front of his, grew dimmer. Glad for the few fleeting cool moments, he looked up from the ground and ahead at the rocky terrain.
He never stopped, or faltered except for a few times during the day when he had had to stop for a quick bite of lunch or a drink from the little stream that he was following. He knew that if he followed it, he would probably at least, if there was no food, have a source of water. Besides, he was getting used to the hollow ache that was constantly settling around his middle and sometimes it made no difference if he ate or not.
Besides, he wanted to get back as soon as he could.
He had no way to tell how much time he had spent in this place. He had watched the sun rise and fall everyday but had lost complete track of the time, only knowing it had been a very long period of time that he had been away from them. He tried to hurry as much as he could, but did not want to aggravate his injuries any further and risk having to spend more time here in order to recuperate. As he had had no watch to tell the time, he could only guess at it, months, years.
Harry once again found himself thinking about them. They had occupied his every waking thoughts and his dreams at night since the day he had found himself in this forsaken land. He had thought about them so much initially, he was almost afraid that if he continued to allow his mind to think of them, he would go mad before his injuries killed him. They were constantly on his mind, what they were doing right now, how they must have felt when they saw him gone.
But there was always one thought that was most foremost on his mind, one that needed an answer, an answer that Harry was afraid to know.
Had they forgotten him?
That thought was plaguing him continually. He had always tried to push it away but yet it had always remained, unbidden and taunting. It was too terrible to think, it had taken his breath away slightly at the intensity of the thought the first time it had come to him. But yet, he was scared of what the answer would be.
He was scared that they had forgotten him, that they no longer thought about him, missed him even. He wondered if they had moved on, whether Ron had found a job, whether Hermione was married…
That was another thing.
His thoughts were on the both of them constantly… but yet, the visual image of Hermione kept conjuring itself up in front of him, in his mind. She was the one he always thought about, rather than Ron. Initially, he had wondered if this was normal, but later simply dismissed it as missing her more because she was more sensitive and caring towards him than Ron whom Hermione always said, "had the emotional range of a teaspoon".
But later, even he hadn't been able to kid himself.
His thoughts began to revolve more around her, and he found her in his dreams more than he found Ron. Every time he thought of her, he would then try, with a guilty resolve to think about Ron instead, but soon found that to be impossible. He was powerless to stop thinking about her. He worried how she would take his disappearance, how she would react. Would she be angry at him? Would she never want to see him again?
He thought constantly about what she was doing now, whether she had found a job, or gone back to her studies. Whether she had a boyfriend or not. Whether she was married or not. Somehow those thoughts were the worst, making him feel like someone had just punched him hard in the gut. He eventually learned how to control them, but even so, he found himself wondering if his obsessive thinking of Hermione was normal.
He later admitted to himself, that he had no longer begun to think of her in a platonic way, but in a different light. He was beginning to feel something more for her, something that was not normal between two best friends.
As much as he hated to acknowledge it, he knew it in his heart.
He had realized it during one of his nights when he was struggling with the intense pain he felt. The medication wasn't helping very much and it was at these times he found himself missing her, his heart actually constricting in pain that was comparable to the pain that he felt in his body.
He realized that he had been so preoccupied with saving the entire wizarding world from Voldermort that he had never really taken time to appreciate her, all that she had done for him. The thorough researches on what would help them retrieve the Hoxcruxes, the late nights she'd kept just so she could read up on more defensive spells that would help them in later battles, the caring in her gestures when he or Ron got hurt.
And somehow along the way, he had fallen for her, so hard but yet unknowingly.
He increased his pace, wanting to cover more distance before the night fell. He wanted so desperately to be able to see her again, as soon as he could, to take her in his arms and tell her all that he had been through, and how much he had missed her. He wanted to be able to see her face once more, to be able to know that she hadn't forgotten him.
He needed to tell her that he loved her, before it was too late.
I hope you guys liked it. I couldn't just leave the story hanging there for so long and I know a lot of people requested for one about Harry. Sorry about the vagueness about where he is, but I'm leaving that for the last part of the story. Will try to update during study breaks, so keep reviewing and tell me what you guys think!