Parallels
par·al·el, adjective
1.extending in the same direction, equidistant at all points, and never converging or diverging
2.having the same direction, course, nature, or tendency; corresponding; similar; analogous
3.straight lines lying in the same plane but never meeting no matter how far extended.
It's funny, Harry thought, as he gingerly turned another page in a well worn album, how history really does seem to repeat itself sometimes. He looked down at an obviously posed photograph from his parents wedding. I really do look like him, it surprises me every time. His eyes traveled from his father to the man standing beside him with his hand on the groom's shoulder, grinning like mad. A familiar sting shot through Harry, as the photograph Sirius winked at him and shook his hair out of his eyes, but he shook it off like he was able to do with his various other emotional aches and pains and thought about the friendship between his father and godfather. Their bond was so familiar somehow, Sirius' hand on James' shoulder. Suddenly a memory sprang up before his minds eye. It was of the first time he had caught the snitch in his first match. In all of the confusion, as Gryffindor's stormed the field, Ron had clapped Harry on the shoulder grinning, "Well done mate!"
Harry laughed to himself at the strange connection between Sirius and Ron; they seemed so different and yet here he had found a linking thread between them. They themselves were different as day and night but they were strikingly similar in their relationships with two boys named Potter. He knew that Sirius would have died in James' place had he had the chance and Ron had put his life on the line countless times for Harry.
Suddenly excited by this realization, Harry looked back down at the album, his eyes finding Remus on Sirius' other side, smiling slightly and looking healthier than he ever had in Harry's acquaintance with him. Following a pulling in his mind Harry thought about how Lupin in his school days had been described to him. Snippets of description floated into his head, Bookish, smart, quiet, sensible, always trying to keep the others out of trouble, though I daresay he didn't succeed much. Harry laughed to himself thinking of his other best friend, nagging at him and Ron to do their school work and stay out of trouble. This coincidence was even funnier than the other because while you could barely have called Sirius and Ron acquaintances Hermoine and Lupin had been known to get on quite well. Now that he thought of it Harry could have sworn he had seen Lupin sending Hermoine a sympathetic glance the last time she had nagged them about summer essays.
As he turned back to the picture in front of him his blood seemed to run cold for a moment. Peter Pettigrew was standing, shifting from foot to foot, in front of Sirius and Lupin. Harry's usual anger at the disgusting sight of him didn't flare. Instead he was suddenly terrified; he racked his brain for someone, anyone who might be playing the same games as that thing. He thought for a long moment but no one he knew, no one he cared for, seemed capable of betrayal. Which is exactly the kind of thinking that got you where you are now. He thought, staring into his fathers face, frozen in time, happy and carefree. It made him never want to trust anyone ever again, to never open himself up to that kind of hurt, until his eyes strayed again to Sirius. The stinging came again, But I didn't trust you at first and look where it got us. A tear escaped his eye and he quickly used the sleeve of his jumper to wipe it off of the glossy image. Sirius wouldn't want him to close himself off, to lock himself up, neither would his parents or any of the other people who cared about him.
Harry took a deep breath and let it out, along with his unsteadiness. For the first time, that afternoon, he looked at the only woman in the picture, the bride, his mother. She was beautiful of course, glowing on the best day of her life. Her long white dress was simple and her hair was left down, white lilies (what else) lending a glistening contrast to the vibrant color of her red hair. She leaned against his father and gave Harry a small smile that was reassuring in a way. Suddenly, the photograph Lily shook her long locks over her shoulder in just a certain way that made him stop. He got the same curious feeling he had gotten when he saw Sirius' hand on his father's shoulder. But, he knew so little about his mother, it was hard to think of anyone she could be like in his life.
His thoughts went to the only real knowledge he had of her when she was near his age, the memory he had seen in the Pensieve the year before, when she had berated James for teasing Snape. The expression on her face seemed so familiar… It didn't simply say that she was angry, that she disapproved, it also revealed that she was disappointed, as if she had thought better of James even if she probably wouldn't admit it.
All of a sudden he laughed aloud as he realized where he had seen the expression before. He could remember clearly that same look on Ginny's face when he had forgotten about her experiences in the Chamber of Secrets. Still chuckling a little at the sizeable tempers of both redheads, he looked down at the picture yet again. Suddenly Harry stopped laughing. He had caught sight of the rings on his parents clasped hands and remembered what occasion had called for the photograph in the first place.
He swallowed quite loudly. Well he reassured himself hastily just because two things are parallel doesn't meant that they have to… er… travel in exactly the same direction does it? He thought for a moment and was able to conjure up the teachings of his Muggle Geometry teacher. He realized that traveling in the same direction happened to be an integral part of the definition of parallel lines. He swallowed again and slowly closed the album, stowing it in his trunk and stretching his stiff legs. He continued to think as he wandered down the stairs of the Burrow, headed for the kitchen and a cup of tea.
So what? He wondered to himself Parallel lines? Rubbish! Just because of a bunch of coincidences… doesn't mean… some things change… all just a funny-- "Oof!" Harry was suddenly tumbling down the stairs and onto the hard wood of the slightly dusty landing between flights. "Oh Harry, I'm so sorry!" Ginny cried, dashing back down from the middle of the flight to help him up, "I thought you saw me and oh… I should have been more careful, are you alright?" "I think I'm ok," he said standing and brushing himself off. Suddenly Ginny began to laugh, however Harry could not see at what as his vision had become curiously blurry. She finally regained a bit of composure and righted his glasses which had been hanging off of one of his ears in a peculiar way, the source of her amusement.
"Oh." Harry said with a smile, making her laugh again, a bit more controlled this time. As she finished giggling, Ginny shook her head to the side, sweeping her long ginger hair over her shoulder in a practiced motion. Harry stopped breathing momentarily. The rest of the world kept moving. "Well if you're right..." she gave a wary glance down the stairs, "I'm going to get back to hiding from Ron before he realizes it was me who told Fred and George where his prefect badge was hidden." "Ok." He replied dazedly, his thoughts elsewhere. She turned and trotted up the stairs, bright hair swinging merrily.
Harry was thinking once again about parallel lines, never meeting, yet never leaving each other, never touching, but maybe in some way influencing each other's paths. Maybe history didn't have to repeat itself perfectly… but wouldn't it be nice if some things could in fact be truly parallel?
A/N: This story takes place between the fifth and sixth books during Harry's time at the Burrow in case you were wondering. I skipped an Author's Note at the beginning because I wanted to preserve the flow of this piece. Please leave a review and let me know what you think, I was a little unsure about the very end so if you think there is a way it could be improved I would love to hear it. Thanks for reading. Cheers!