A/N I am not J.K Rowling. And I own nothing. Thank you to witchinhiding for the prompt 'Rain clouds' please review.
The drizzle dampens his hair, flattening the flames to his head. His azure eyes, glistening with unshed tears, gazed unseeingly into the deep ocean. He knew they worried about him, but he couldn't think for why.
He was a traitor.
The wave's crash against the cliff face, as the wind picks up. He knows they were watching him through the kitchen window. They would often make sure he was okay. They probably checked on him while he slept, to make sure he hadn't killed himself. He laughs darkly at the idea. Because now; dying seems easier than living. That was the only reason he was still alive.
He would find them.
That was what he spent his time trying to do. He would sit for hours, alone in his room; thinking, planning, anything. Bill had often asked to join him. But he declined. This was something he had to do alone. Because alone, he couldn't pretend it hadn't happened. He couldn't pretend to be someone he wasn't.
He had left.
It is late, but that hardly matters to him. He sleeps very little now, if at all. And when he does sleep, it is on the floor, because he does not deserve the bed. The rain is falling heavily, and only now does he allow the tears to fall from his eyes, on to bed of sand beneath him. The salty tears and rain fall down the freckled face. His face is blank of emotion, but his heart aches to be healed.
He left Her.
He chokes out sobs as he thinks of Her. Her. His life. His light. His heart. Slowly, he climbs to his feet. He walks back to the cottage. Back to his brother. Back inside, where he would rebuild the walls, and seal his heart.
He needs them.
The newlyweds had gone to sleep. It would be Christmas tomorrow. He sighs and walks up the stairs. His eyes are red and his face blotchy. The house feels dark and shadowed. The dark clouds he carried with him everywhere, rest heavily on his shoulders. He knows what it is. It was guilt.
He misses them.
He slumps down on his bed, his head in his hands. He prays for their safety and wellbeing. He knows they are safe. He wonders how he can find optimism in a time such as this. How? Then he hears it.
His name and something… about a wand? He knows. Just like that, the clouds lift. He packs as quickly as he can, and leaves a small note for his brother. Before doing what he must.
I am whole again
RBW