A/N: I know this has probably been done before, however this came to me as I was doing a HP questionnaire: the question was-"which character can you relate to the most?" in many ways it's Harry. Most of this chapter is based on my personal feeling (although I had to adapt it slightly). Its me in a emotional and slightly low mood. Read and Review if you want, I wrote this more for personal expression than anything else.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or his thoughts.
The darkness was drawing in. he felt completely alone although the room was full to capacity. The emptiness drew him under into his deepest thoughts; trying to fill in the blanks with your own imagination, and tales of what others have told you.
He tried to feel the softness of their skin, touch of her soft red hair. The sound of his voice, was it gentle? Rough? Was there an accent?
Could you see the goodness in their eyes? See their love coursing through them, boring into their child. Was there love between them? He even craved to hear the fighting between them, heatedly discussing what each thought best, for the future of their child and their relationship.
He longed to feel their warmth in a hug he knew he deserved; their pride for achieving, and their discipline when he wasn't being the true, honest self that he was. He wondered what they would smell like; would it feel like home to him, allowing him to be fully complete and involved?
Would he have had siblings, brothers to play Quidditch with on their fathers borrowed broom, or sisters to protect, to guide them, to love and look in life, to become their favourite person after their parents. All of whom could share secrets with; creating their own sibling rule.
His mind wondered to their home; would it have a large kitchen where the whole family could sit and enjoy home cooked food, his father telling his wife and children how his day at work was. His mother telling stories of their children. Would the be a cosy lounge, big enough for everyone to have their own space, but small enough that the heat of the wood burning fire warmed every crevice. Would they jump on their parent's bed every Christmas to open their presents before departing for their grandparent's house for a lavish Turkey roast dinner?
He imagined their look of pride when the morning owl posts his Hogwarts acceptance letter, beaming with joy and excitement as he prepares to go to Diagon Alley. He can almost see his mother's teary eyes as he steps on board the train, his fathers' brave yet proud smile fixed on his face.
He didn't even know what their jobs were. He never got the chance to sit on his mother's lap and listen to stories of their Hogwarts days. Hearing about their close friends, adventures they might have had. He was never told of his grandparents, especially on his father's side. Did he have more family?
The faces he saw were never truly with him, always of a far and blurry. He almost craved that he had them in his live, creating memories to pass onto his own children and then being able to grieve when the time came, that he got to miss what he had…instead he had to miss something that had always been absent in his life. He never got the childhood everyone else got, he never got to see his parents pick him up from the station at school, asking him how his year went, or hearing his mother rant that he didn't write enough, before promising to write more letters the next year… knowing the promise was empty, but she still accepted it.
He never got to say "I love you" to them.
Until now.