Just something I thought up during math class. I'm not done with my other one yet.
Anything you recognize belongs to J.K.R.
Scrapped knees
Harry Potter was playing at the park. At five years old, this was his favorite place to play. He would slide down the slide, and play in the sand, but his favorite part was the swings. Unfortunately, that was also his cousin's favorite part of the park as well.
"Get off the swing Potter, it's my turn!" Dudley demanded.
"But I'm swinging." Harry protested. He didn't really know why he bothered.
"Too bad, I want to swing!" Dudley insisted. Then he pushed poor Harry off of the swing and on to the ground. His glasses fell off and he scrapped his knee. Harry could feel tears well up in his eyes. He didn't want his cousin to see him cry, so he ran off to the edge of the park. His aunt wouldn't care. She never cared. Not when Dudley punched him or pushed him or bit him. He cried for a while, but quickly dried his eyes when a little girl ran up to him. She was even smaller than he was, with vibrant red hair and pretty brown eyes.
"Why are you crying?" she asked curiously.
"I'm not!" Harry said crossly.
"Are too!" she sounded annoyed, "and you shouldn't lie!" Harry sighed. She wasn't going away without an answer.
"My cousin pushed me off the swings," he told her sadly.
"That's mean!" she said huffily.
"No, my Aunt says I'm bad, so he shouldn't be nice to me. She says I don't deserve it," he sighed again.
"Well, you seem nice to me," she said brightly. Harry stared up at her in amazement. She thought he was nice? He smiled tentatively at her and she beamed back.
"Thank you," Harry told her.
"You're welcome," she answered, then she frowned, "Your knee is bleeding," she knelt down next to him and pulled out a hankie. As Harry stared, surprised, she carefully wiped away the blood on his knee, and then she leaned down and kissed the spot right above his scrape.
"There," she said happily, "all better!" As she stood up, a woman's voice called for her children. The girl turned.
"That's my mum! I've got to go now," she turned, but Harry stopped her.
"You never told me your name," he reminded her. She turned back and smiled at him again.
"Neither did you," she replied.
"My name's Harry," he told her.
"Ginny," she answered. Then she ran off, and Harry was left alone, pondering what had happened and remembering a little girl who had cared, just for a moment, about him.
"Ouch!" Harry yelped, as his fiancé laughed. He had just tripped and fallen on the sidewalk, and was now looking up at her from the ground.
"Are you alright?" she giggled.
"I dunno," he joked, "I might need St. Mungo's." She laughed some more, then sighed as she noticed something.
"Your knee," she pointed out. He had scrapped it, "Why are you always bleeding?" She knelt down to clean it off for him.
"It's not like I do it on purpose," he told her, watching as she wiped the blood away. Then she leaned down and kissed his knee, right above the scrape. He smiled at her.
"How did I get so lucky?" He asked her.
"You're lucky?" She sounded incredulous.
"Yeah, I am. I'm alive, I have amazing friends, and I'm about to get married to the most amazing woman on earth. I'm extremely lucky." She smiled.
"I don't know. I suppose you must have done something right," she teased him. Then she helped him up and kissed him lightly.
"I love you, Harry."
"I love you too, Ginny."
And as they walked off together, holding hands, Harry marveled at his own luck, thinking of the woman he loved who, for a lifetime, loved him back.
Meanwhile, Ginny pondered her sudden feeling of déjà vu…