Crying that is. Crying refers to the title.
OneShot, I wrote LONG time before The Deathly Hallows. Felt like posting it up.
I started out, wanting to go for something happy, and humorous. Then when this came out, I wanted to make the ending more tragic, more...sad. So I wrote it. And tried desperately not to cry. So I deleted it, and ended it with something else.
I hope you like it.
Warning: Character death, and slight repetition.
Enjoy. Reviews keep me going. I've stopped one shots, but if this is any good, I have a couple in this computer I haven't put up. I wrote this, however, on a whim.
Afraid To Start, Because I May Not Stop.
Harry hadn't cried at first, when he watched her be struck. He hadn't cried as he ran to her, pulling out his wand, and calling out her name. He hadn't cried when he fell to his knees, begging for her to still be alive. He hadn't cried when she looked up at him desperately, expecting him to make him all better.
He hadn't cried when he realized it was going to be too late. He hadn't cried when she whispered an apology to him, eyes shining and letting out a cough of blood. He hadn't cried when he told her it would be okay and that the problem was only temporary, that in no time she would be fine.
He hadn't cried when she smiled and gestured for him to put his ear to her lips. He hadn't let a tear slip when she whispered, "I love you." And he hadn't cried when he kissed her longingly, repeating the same words to her.
He hadn't cried when he watched her slip away, her eyes still locked on his own. He hadn't cried when the Aurors and Healers finally came, pulling him back and working on his girlfriend. He hadn't cried when he saw the tears some of them shed, looking up and painfully at him.
He hadn't cried when he spun around ready to run, only to run flat into Hermione and Ron, both bloodstained, both wide eyed. He hadn't cried when they noticed the wild look in his emerald eyes, and he hadn't cried as he watched Ron cause a fit of rage, pushing past Harry and running to the Healer, yelling at them.
He hadn't cried as he watched Hermione dissolve into tears, and then put her arms over his shoulder, crying loudly. He hadn't cried when he pulled away from his best friend, pain obvious in his emerald eyes, mixed with something else. He hadn't cried when Hermione noted it, and grabbed his arm, telling him not to do anything he would regret, still sobbing.
He hadn't cried when he wrenched his arm from her grip, and flew in the other direction blindly. He hadn't cried when he heard her calling his name frantically behind his back. He hadn't cried when a bunch of Aurors grabbed his arms roughly and held him back. He hadn't cried when Healers came to him and sedated him immediately.
He hadn't cried as he fell into a deep dark pitch of blackness, silent and free.
He hadn't cried when he woke up, worried faces all around him, sitting on a bed. He hadn't cried when he saw the tearstained faces of all the red haired people and then Hermione's anxious eyes.
He hadn't cried when he sat up abruptly, his eyes moving from one person to another, uncomprehending. He hadn't cried when it all came crashing down on him, what he hadn't done, what he couldn't help.
He hadn't cried when he got to his feet, and took his wand from the side desk, looking haphazardly at everyone. He hadn't cried when he felt the tears prickling at his eyes then, Mrs. Weasley coming towards him, her arms outstretched.
He hadn't cried when he pulled from her and left the room in a flash, only to face Remus Lupin, face worn and written with concern. He hadn't cried as he fled from everyone he knew, leaving Mungos, and blindly running. He hadn't cried when people called out, "oh that's Harry Potter" and claps and cheers.
He didn't cry as he sprinted through the crowded streets, only partly aware of the fact that people were chasing him. He didn't cry as he continued to run, letting his heart lead him, and his mind going blank.
He didn't cry as he reached the ugly old shack. He didn't cry and he took slow steps towards the porch. He didn't cry as he read, "Godric's Hollow." On a tattered sign, and he didn't cry as an all too familiar scent filled up his nose.
He didn't cry as he heard footsteps running down the sidewalk, and his eyes were as dry as the voice that asked him if he was alright.
He didn't cry as he didn't bother to respond to Lupin's voice, and not a tear slipped down his face as he started towards the door. He jerked away from the touch, as Lupin reached out to hold his shoulder.
He didn't cry as he pushed open the door and step into the place that was once his house.
Harry Potter walked down the hallway, his vision blurring at the pictures on the wall, his throat clogging with a lump, and his hands going cold.
He whispered, "It wasn't fair," as he stepped into what seemed to be the living room, and looked at the mess, at the scattered objects. There was no blood.
He didn't cry as he took a step towards a baby carriage, that was no longer rocking. His vision melted completely as his the situation of the reality settled in.
Harry Potter didn't dissolve into tears and uncontrollable sobs until his knees gave away from the weight of his whole world crashing down on his back.
And only someone who's lost as many as Harry Potter would know the amount of tears that would bring.