Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter!
Warning: Post-Fifth book spoilers.
Dedication: To Roni, who, in her own way, inspires everything that I write.
A Letter From Your Spazz
Monday
Dear Hermione,
Summer vacation contains a few of the worst months of my life. Though I've never mentioned it outright, you probably know a bit about the Dursley's hostility towards anything abnormal. And I am abnormal.
Surprisingly enough, it is not being abnormal that bothers me. It's not being with anyone worth being with. I feel like I'm stuck in the middle of a wasteland while you and Ron are off in some oasis by the ocean sipping fruity drinks and talking about the weather.
That bloody weather. It's been so hot around here, and since I've been outdoors most of the time, it's worse. I wish it would rain, I dearly do. Sometimes when it's hot like this I imagine us playing in the rain like muggles do; you wearing rain boots that are a tad too large, me being unable to keep hold of the umbrella because the wind is blowing so hard, and Ron…well, Ron is usually trying to figure out what we are doing with rain boots and umbrellas when we could use a spell to keep dry. Ron is really quite amusing. I feel very much at home with the Weasleys, don't you?
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention – Dudley got himself a girlfriend! I cannot comprehend it. Maybe I won't. She's tall and kind of twiggy with large, round glasses, and limp, oily blonde hair. And to top it off? She thinks she's a bloody poet, so she always bloody talks in bloody rhyme! And Dudley worships her! Woe betide me the day I fall for a girl…though, you probably wouldn't be interested in that sort of thing. Well, anyway, it's time for lunch now, if I can get any, so I'll continue this letter later.
Tuesday
Dear Hermione,
I've decided that I'm not going to send this letter to you, Hermione. I guess what I really want is just to get my thoughts down on paper, and it's easiest to imagine talking to you. Not that you are my emotional trashcan or anything. I'm not trying to dump my problems on your shoulders. In fact, that's why I haven't told you, or anyone for that matter, about the prophecy.
I won't even write about it here extensively. Only that it is kill or be killed, and I can feel the shadow of death hovering just out of sight. It's been getting worse lately. Nightmares. All death. Cedric dying. Sirius dying. Mom…no… It's bad enough to think of it at night. Not now, on this broken, graffiti up swing…
Wednesday
Dear Hermione,
Did I mention that I'm bored out of my mind? Well, I am. I will not think about turning sixteen this summer, oh no. I know you're already sixteen and understand the significance, but I don't think I could handle it after that episode in our second year. Not that the Dursleys would give me driving lessons anyway. Oh sure – Dudley can have anything his overworked arteries want, but Harry sure can't. Such is life.
I can't even do magic. I cannot wait until I am of age – maybe then I'll be allowed to leave the Dursleys? Ha ha, that was a joke. Or maybe it wasn't. I'm not so sure now. But if I did have to stay here forever, I'm sure I'd go mad. Could I possibly come stay with you if worst comes to worst? Of course, the Weasleys would probably let me stay there, but I only feel like I'm a burden there. I know, I know, Bad Harry.
Hey look! Hedwig's back! She hasn't been out with mail for anyone lately, maybe I should write you a real letter so you won't worry. Well, maybe later. Ok, so maybe I'm spazzing out just a little, but wouldn't you feel special if you got a letter from your very own spazz, Harry Potter? I like the sound of that…Harry, Hermione's Spazz. Isn't that a cool little title? Bet Ron couldn't think of that. No, even if I'm not sending this, that was mean of me. Stop being a prat, Harry! Just because you're jealous of all the time your two best friends are spending without you. See, now I'm even talking to myself. I have been locked up waaaaaaaaay too long. I think I'm going to go for a walk, now, best continue this at another time then.
Friday
Dear Hermione,
I meant to write yesterday, but I lost track of time while watching the stars, and fell asleep on my windowsill. I like to pretend that Sirius is somewhere watching the same stars as I am, locating the same constellations. Maybe he'll be watching them with my Dad and they'll be talking and laughing about the good old days when they'd sneak out on nights like these. Perhaps my Mum is hovering in the background, adding details now and again, or just simply smiling as two how similar her son is now, to what her husband was then.
This morning I rose early and watched the sun rise, but I didn't wonder whether or not my family was watching this too. The sunrise reminds me two much of you, I'm afraid. The stars will fade when the sun meets the sky…or maybe it's just because you are closer than they are. Though perhaps I will see them quite soon…
I am sorry; I trailed on morbid for a moment there. I will not think about my looming death – however close, right now, if only for your sake. Though you'll never see this – never read this; it still feels like I'm talking specifically to you. I can't help it. You know that little voice in the back of Harry's head? It sounds strongly like you, which is mostly good, but sometimes frustrating! I didn't mean that in a bad way, of course, I know, I know I shouldn't be so reckless, but…
Never mind. We only have one life, we shouldn't nit pick about the details I suppose. No, I suppose that's not right. I have to tell you something, and it is a nit picky detail, and I know you'll scold me, but I need to write it down for the sake of putting it somewhere, but lodged right here.
You almost died in the Department of Mysteries last year. Actually, I thought you did die at first. My heart stopped. You know that recklessness streak? Well, it completely shut down. My logic, my sense of what was going on…all failed. So, I guess when I hear your voice in my head, it just proves that you're the one that helps me to function.
I wonder what it is you fear? I knew in that moment that I feared your death, because I don't know what I'd do without you. But you're always able to plow through the onslaught. How do you do it, anyway? I can't. Friendship, bravery? Do I even have that? I wonder if it's that, or that darned reckless streak.
Again I ramble. Perhaps it would be best if I collect my thoughts for now. Well, actually, I'm afraid I'll get caught with the quill and parchment – but I'll write more later. I promise.
Saturday
Dear Hermione,
Well, since the Weasleys came to get me, I'll be seeing you soon, so I needn't write this, but I feel compelled to. I've gotten so used to confiding in you, even if not in reality, that I couldn't really set it aside. Maybe someday I'll actually confide in you – more than I already have. If there were anyone I'd want to talk to, it'd be you.
Love, Harry
"I'll be right back! I think I forgot my knitting needles in Ginny's room!" Hermione called, racing around the corner and up the stairs for the third time that morning. She had been really frantic today – it was the day she and her two best friends, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter would return to Hogwarts for another year, and she didn't want to forget anything.
"Not that bloody house elf crusade again," Ron groaned, slumping into a chair and drumming his hands on the dining room table impatiently. Harry stood by the door, looking outside to where Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were waiting for them all to come out in a detached sort of way. He was feeling unusually weary this morning, though he'd gone to bed early enough. But, life was like that sometimes.
Soft footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. Ron stood up, looking hopeful that they could finally leave. Harry did not move. The steps paused at the bottom.
"Harry."
He turned to see Hermione standing at the foot of the stairs with a slightly crumpled roll of parchment in her hand. Ron looked puzzled, but Harry understood. She had found it. He could not recall where he had left it – but she had found it. Harry chose not to reply, and Hermione spoke no further to him.
"I'm ready to go, Ron," Hermione said softly, not taking her eyes from Harry. Ron nodded dumbly and walked outside, the other two trailing behind. Some things, Harry later thought, were better off left unsaid.
The End