Hi guys, this is my first fan fiction ever, so YAAY, any constructive criticism is welcome, but please, please no flames.
Disclaimer: cries don't own it cries
Summery: This is a response to a challenge issued on
The change was as follows.
'There are so many mpreg ficcies out there, don't get me
Wrong, I love them! But this is Harry Potter, the ultimate
Orphan…wouldn't he want to adopt? Help kids like himself
So let's see it happen! Harry potter should be the main character. He can be single, in a relationship, dating, or
Goofing of in the broom closet with Draco.'
So here we go, tell me what you think
Harry Potter looked up from his book slowly and smiled sadly at the television. Another add for Christmas time adoption. These ads were mainly aimed at muggles; he knew that (mainly because he and Ron's family were the only wizards in London to have a television set)
In the slowly fading fire light, Harry's hair seemed to catch all light and pull it into its depths, his scar caught the light and made its presence known, even though there was no one in the house (except Harry's reflection) to see it. To ever appearance Harry seemed fine, well, Fabulous,
'Stuffed' thought Harry 'Bloody screwed'
He flicked his wand at the T.V, and the reporter who had looked amazingly like Ginny. Flickered off the screen. Harry pulled himself out of the comfy chair he had been settled in for the last half hour and moved over the marble fire place. He rested his hands on the marble ledge that protruded past the fire grate. Although the fire had been burning for over an hour the cool air of this evening wasn't allowing the marble to heat. On the ledge sat the best photos of his friends, the ones that were still with him, and the ones that aren't, and as usual the one that caught his eye, was the one that hurt the most. The picture was Hermione; it was taken on their final day at Hogwarts. She was sitting on the top stair of the great hall, the sunlight playing on her hair. This was also being tossed around by the wind. She laughed each time she had to brush it back away from her face with her hands. Then when both Herminie's hands were occupied with her hair. The red and gold scarf that was rapped around her neck flapped up and hit her directly in the face. Dropping her hair, and pushing the scarf back away from her, she smiled at the camera, blushing slightly. Harry Turned away from the photo, it was so painful to watch. Yet he could not bring himself to put the photo away, he just missed her so much.
The war was over; it had been for half a year. Since he was twenty one and a half. It had waged for over four years, and Hermione had been missing for three of them. Three years. About a year after that photo had been taken Hermione had been sent out on a 'mission' for the order, determined to deliver the package to Tonks, but the package hadn't made it, and neither had Hermione.
Both he and Ron had forgotten about the rest of the war and had spent the next six months looking for Hermione, but when no letter of ransom was sent, and no trace of her was found. Gradually the search had been called off. Harry shook his head, the only one who hadn't stoped looking, was, of course, Ron. Leaving the living room and making his way into the kitchen Harry rubbed his eyes, looking at the clock, he realised that this was the third night in a row that he had been awake past eleven.
Eleven. Again his thoughts drifted to Hermione, eleven was the remaining number of missing persons since the war. The only Two Harry had known well were, obviously Hermione, and a woman called Megan Kite, Her Dark hair had matched Harry's, and her personality had always made Harry smile. The fact she flirted helplessly with Harry, didn't hurt, not at all. Harry smiled at the memory.
Twirling around spinning his wand to shut and lock all the doors and windows. He was almost frustrated with Ron, His down right refusal to except, to move on. He seemed to believe that it would just take a few more hours of work, one more call to the muggle police, it had taken Harry over a year before he realised that Ron was simply trying to fill hole that Hermione had left. Yet, he couldn't talk; he lived in a mansion all by him self. He had tried to fill that hole with material objects, and, truth be told, it hadn't worked.
Harry slowly climbed up the stairs past his smaller library, and into the master bedroom.
The room was huge, the size of your average living room. One entire wall was mirror; the bed was a four poster (like his Hogwarts bed) with the gold and red sheets and blankets. He smiled when he noticed that Dobby had remade the bed with warmed sheets. Dobby had come to live with Harry when the war had finished, firstly because Hogwarts didn't need any more house elves, and secondly because he had wanted to. Harry paid him. And it was some other presence in the house. Even if Harry had hardly noticed him.
Attached to the bed room was a bathroom, a huge bath tub occupied the majority of the floor space, along with a small shower (Harry loved a nice long bath, and hardly ever used the shower) the tiles were a creamy white, and the bath edge was silver. Harry really liked his bathroom.
He turned to himself in the mirror. Nothing made sense anymore. Everything he had hoped for after the war hadn't happened. He had planned, well hoped to get back together with Ginny. But upon seeing her again, well it became very obvious, very quickly, that they weren't meant to be together. He had also planned to take a holiday and travel, but even know they were still rounding up rouge death eaters, and the occasional person under the imperious curse.
The fact of the matter was, he was Harry Potter The-boy-who-was-born-to-save-the-world-then-have-nothing-left-to-do he was empty, the hole that Hermione left was just getting bigger, and every day Ron was drifting further away from him. They just didn't have time for each other any more.
'Bloody empty' Harry said out loud to no one. Then trowing himself face down onto his bed, and burring his face in the pillows. Harry Potter fell asleep.