Here Comes the Sun
Disclaimer: Not only am I not J.K Rowling or anyone who owns any rights to her stories or anything connected to them, I am also not the Beatles, nor anyone who owns the name or lyrics of the song "Here Comes the Sun", which by the way, if you haven't listened to, go, shoo, to youtube.
It's one month, two months, three months after the war and you're the only one who still can't face seeing the Great Hall. You're still the only one who keeps away from the castle, who didn't go to the memorial services. You're the one most people have forgotten by now. You lost your oldest, best friend in the last battle and you couldn't even face her funeral. Susan… You lost so many people. Mum and Dad, you can't even get the courage to go back to the house, to your home.
You're Hufflepuff, remember? You should be loyal and kind and yet you can't even walk back into that castle. Oh you've got to the gate, so, so many times but any further in and your bravery vanishes and you run away again, back to this little muggle boarding house in the middle of nowhere. Actually, it's in a village called "Hope" in the peak district. The village name just makes you feel worse about your self, really, every time you see the post.
"Hannah" means grace. You're not showing grace, you're running away. Only he makes it any better and obviously, he's not scared of the castle so he can't be with you often.
You're curled up in the armchair in your tiny room, watching the snow falling. It's not pretty, sparkling snow like you remember from Hogwarts; it's depressing, grey, slushy snow, which just makes you feel worse. You're sick of winter; you want the sun to come back. Things always look better then the sun is shining, don't they? That's what Susan used to say anyway.
"Wait til the sun is shining, Hannah, before you choose. It'll help."
Well, Susan, it might help but you're not here and it only worked when you were! How can you cope when you're all alone? You want your friends back.
Also, the sun is not shining. It's December. And you're in Scotland. Sun, in Scotland, in December, does not exist. You've learnt this through seven years of snow, but unfortunately, this not nice snow, this is depressing and icky and makes you all sad and repetitive.
There's Christmas coming up soon. You think Molly invited you for dinner but you don't want to go without Susan or mum and dad. Neville keeps worrying over you. He's sweet but you only want the sun. Dammit, owl.
"Hey Hannah,
I'll come see you tonight as I was told to, anything you want me to bring?
Neville
x"
You sighed loudly and, without thinking, scribbled a quick reply.
"Sun."
Argh, you didn't mean that. Damn, damn, damn. Never mind?
The fire glows green and you suddenly realise that your hair is icky and lank and vile. Why does this always happen?
"Hey Han. I've brought sun?"
"You've brought what?! How?"
"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Do you want me to set it off?"
"…okay?"
How did he do that? And he did it for you? You smile and watch as he taps the little cylinder, just once and the room is full of beautiful, gorgeous, warm sunlight.