The boy walks in to the Great Hall with his head down, shoulders tense, hoping for no one to notice him.
But Harry does.
Carrying the weight on the end of a limb
You're just waiting for somebody to pick you up again
Shaded by a tree, can't live up to a rose
All you ever wanted was a sunny place to grow
He's shy, anyone could see that. He hopes that people will leave him alone, and they mostly do. He doesn't have many friends, he never raises his hand to answer a question in class, he always has his head down, with his books clutched to his chest like a lifeline. It hasn't always been like that, but it is now. Most people never give him a second glance, now, or even a first.
But Harry does.
Every day.
Pretty little thing, sometimes you gotta look up
And let the world see all the beauty that you're made of
'Cause the way you hang your head nobody can tell
You're my Virginia Bluebell
My Virginia Bluebell
Harry sees him, he knows that he's there, he knows that he thinks nobody sees him. But Harry does. He can't help it. Ever since returning to Hogwarts after the war, after loosing so many people, after seeing him so closed in, so timid, he has always caught Harry's eye. The moment Harry walks into the room, his eyes search for his blonde hair. When he finds him, he quickly looks away, glad that he was still there, but ashamed that he was too weak to approach him, see if he was alright, see if maybe they could start over.
Even through a stone a flower can bloom
You just need a little push, Spring is coming soon
Umbrella in the rain, let it roll off your back
Weather what you can, realize what you have
He's beautiful. That Harry knew. Even thought he was a boy, he was beautiful. And he was smart. Harry has always known that, but he has always been blinded by other things to notice. But Harry notices now. He's nice now. Even though Harry hadn't spoken to him for a while, he knew he was kind. If a younger student dropped their books, he would help pick them up. Always. Once, Harry asked if he could borrow his notes. He had given them to him without questioning. Harry didn't need them, he just wanted an excuse to talk to him. See what would happen. Not much did happen.
Pretty little thing, sometimes you gotta look up
And let the world see all the beauty that you're made of
'Cause the way you hang your head nobody can tell
You're my Virginia Bluebell
My Virginia Bluebell
Harry is scared for him. He was looking thinner. He had filled out since the war, but he was slowly wasting away again. It was like sixth year was repeating itself. Harry didn't want that. He always seemed so sad, so broken, in sixth year. The Dark Lord was living in his house, he had been given tasks that he could not complete, he had almost lost his entire family. All of those happy memories, all of the sentimental values he had, gone with a flash of green light. He looked haunted, depressed.
Put a little light in the darkest places
Put a little smile on the saddest faces
Harry had to speak to him, he had to help him. He was too ignorant to see it the first time, but now he did see it, and he had to do something. Nobody could go through this alone. Harry couldn't, didn't, he had had Ron and Hermione to help him. But he didn't have anyone. Harry couldn't loose him, not after all that he had been through, not after he had fought for so long. Harry can see that he thinks nobody notices that he's suffering.
But Harry does.
And it hurts Harry to see him so torn.
Pretty little thing, sometimes you gotta look up
And let the world see all the beauty that you're made of
'Cause the way you hang your head nobody can tell
You're my Virginia Bluebell
My Virginia Bluebell
Harry had made up his mind. He would talk to him today. It had to be today. Harry couldn't stand watching him suffer. He cared for him too much. He thinks nobody cares, he thinks that nobody sees him.
But Harry does.
Harry sees Draco Malfoy.
…
Okay, I just had to do a songfic for this song, it's just too perfect not to. If any of you people are wondering, the song's name is Virginia Bluebell by Miranda Lambert. I know I haven't posted for The Art of Silence in a while, I'm having a bit of trouble, please don't hate me! I'll get there eventually. So I'm thinking of starting a Walking Dead fic. Should I, or shouldn't I? Tell me! Uh, I think that's all for now, adios!
Don't kick the cat,
When-Words-Fail.
P.S.- REVIEW!
P.P.S- I wrote this in like, ten minutes, so if it sucks then deal with it. :p.
OMG I ALMOST FORGOT!
The characters in this fic are hereby and forever owned by J.K Rowling. The song is hereby and forever owned by Miranda Lambert and all that jazz.