When he walked out her door for the last time, he felt nothing. He felt no soul-crushing agony or bitter, overwhelming hatred; he felt empty. His footsteps were muffled against the ancient cobblestoned street. A streetlight made walking easy this evening.
The sky was dark, a cool, pleasant evening. Where was the dreary or stormy weather to match the emotions that he was supposed to be feeling in his heart? He walked slowly down the street, pondering his feelings, wondering why he didn't have any.
The woman-who-was-once-his-life was sitting back in that house, quietly sitting. She had looked up him as he entered the room, coat and suitcase in hand. Still, they faced each other with the weary silence of people who have nothing left to say. They had run out of things to sayyears ago. Her eyes were void, her face calm. The moment passed. He turned and walked out without even thinking of looking back.
Leaving didn't feel sad or happy or mad, it just felt like the thing to do. As if there was no other choice in the world. Inherently, he knew that if he stayed they would both die. Lack of emotion can only last so long. The space of time after tears have dried up cannot last forever. Sorrow and anger may not return, but life must go on. A barren desert of life is all that waits in that way. So the man walked on, strides slow, but long, toward whatever life laid in the opposite direction.
There was another woman, there always is, but not in that desperate, love-destroying way. Harry had't thought of Parvati in years, hadn't seen her in more. He thought she still lived in London. The only conscious thought in his mind was to find his old friend. Everyone else had moved out of town. He didn't have a knut on him, so if she turned him down, he didn't know where he'd stay. Not that it mattered; nothing mattered right now.
Forty-six blocks and five hours later, Harry found that the dawning sun shown in Parvati's doorknob, right in his fatigued eyes as he walked up the steps to her house. It was early, but he didn't think as he rang the doorbell. He could hear its sharp tone throughout echoing throughout the house. Patiently, he waited until he could hear her slippered footsteps in the foyer.
Cautiously the door was opened a crack, and after he heard a squeal of delight, the door slammed shut and the chain was removed. The door burst open, and a figure wrapped in a yellow and orange robe leaped out at him. Startled, he dropped his suitcase as he tried to hold on to the woman hugging him madly in his arms. Parvati knocked his glasses askew as she kissed him on both cheeks. Laughing, she jumped down, but still held on to his arms as if she couldn't believe he was there.
Grinning, she dragged him inside, where he knew he would find a pot of warm tea, a plate of real breakfast, and a friendly ear. He managed to grab his suitcase before she slammed the door behind him. As he was pulled toward the kitchen, a warm feeling wound its way through his chest into his heart. And then he knew everything would turn out alright.