Author's Note: I had this on my old account, but thought I'd repost it because I enjoyed it so much. I had some amazingly wonderful reviews over there, but hopefully people will like it just as much the second time around.
Just Cry
15-year-old Harry Potter sat in his bedroom, on his windowsill, staring out at the moon. He had his knees pulled up to his body, his chin resting on them. He had been in this position for at least three hours, just staring at the moon, trying to find the man on it, and wondering if he could join him.
Harry kept thinking about what he was going to do when Voldemort came to kill him. He hated thinking that, but he knew it would happen. And, Harry was almost positive that he would die, another thought that he hated. Still, he thought, what's a 15-year-old wizard, just out of his fourth year of Hogwarts, going to do against a full grown, all-powerful, dark wizard, who hated him with a vengence? 'Nothing,' he thought bitterly. 'You'll die. At least you'll see your mum and dad.'
Lily and James Potter, Harry's mum and dad, whom he didn't remember. Unless you counted the numerous times Harry had heard the two of them dying, which Harry didn't like counting. Harry wondered what his mum and dad would say to him.
From what Sirius had told him, Harry expected his father to be supportive, yet give him some slack to make his own decisions and trust Harry to do the right thing. Harry liked to think that James Potter had been like a hero in his time, that was why Voldemort wanted him dead. He often wondered if he was right. All he knew of his father was that he was once Head Boy, but nothing like Percy, and the Gryffindor seeker. Harry sighed and pictured his dad from a photo album Hagrid had given Harry. His unruly black hair, glasses and bright blue eyes shining from behind them. Harry had been told on many occasions that he looked remarkably like his father, but he had his mum's bright green eyes.
His mum. Lily Potter, also Head Girl. Harry sighed again, picturing his mother, long red hair, like the Weasley's and bright green eyes, the eyes so much like his own. Harry wondered how she would react to Harry's situation. Harry hoped that she would also be supportive, yet, be more of the parent that would give him the advice to be wary, the one to be constantly worried about Harry when he was in Hogwarts, the one that would pelt him with owls daily, making sure he was ok. The one that Harry could turn to for emotional support, who he could ask about his personal worries, without having to worry about getting laughed at, or feeling extremely uncomfortable.
What personal worries? How about his worries about not living to have his first girlfriend? His first kiss? That was what harry was scared of. What if Voldemort had killed him before he ever had the chance to live a normal, teenage life? These were topics that he had only slightly brushed against in his letters to Sirius. Sirius had been very vague in his answers. The thought of asking Ron and Hermione was a total embarassment. Hermione would become far to intament for Harry's liking, and he was sure of it, Ron just wouldn't stand for it.
Harry looked at the stars twinkling far above him, and allowed himself to do something he hadn't done in a long time. 15-year-old Harry Potter leaned his forehead against his knees and cried.