Splashes of darkness coat the late afternoon sky, while water heavy grey clouds swallow the descending sun. The communities' citizens bumble frantically about on the busy street, seeking refuge, lest they surrender to the on coming downpour, all of them completely oblivious to the brooding figure inside house number twelve on Grimmauld Place, invisibly nestled in between two others. All of them completely oblivious to the fact, that the brooding figure inside is the savior of an entirely different world. A world filled with wonder, wildly strange creatures and magic…the Wizarding world. Harry Potter, the brooding figure inside, the "savior" of the Wizarding World. A melancholy Harry, sits at the kitchen table, observing the raindrops slowly cascading down the window with his bright green eyes. He sits in a brooding silence, whirling around his second shot glass of Firewhiskey.
'What's the point of everything?' Harry silently wonders. 'Everything's gone to shit…'
The thoughts continued as he mindlessly poured himself yet another shot of Firewhiskey. 'So this is all it's come down to? Risking my life, saving an entire world, for a life of happiness and peace? Blah, what rubbish it all was! My life was never meant for happiness or peace, it never will be…'
He gulped the third shot down, as what had become a mind-numbing ritual over the past week. The alcohol warming him as it descends down his throat, finally reaching his belly, temporarily filling the abyss that has grown inside him.
He poured another.
'It's been less than year, but seems like life time ago that I had a purpose in my life…a focus…' Since defeating Voldemort, Harry has been living in the former dwelling of his godfather, Sirius Black. Months ago he was on top of the Wizarding world, looking forward to a happy and peaceful life. But he has ended up living alone in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, with nothing but shattered dreams and broken memories to keep him company.
Still mindlessly droning on with his thoughts, a sudden rapping of knuckles on the door snaps him out of his reverie. Forgetfully, dropping the still-full shot glass of Firewhiskey he had poured himself earlier. Harry quietly snapped up from his chair, quickly grabbed his wand and apprehensively made his way to the door. He held his wand at the ready for good measure, as whoever was right outside the door kept knocking away. With the alcohol still slightly buzzing in his system, every knock felt like a powerful drum going off in his ears. With the knocks still coming, Harry finally reached the door. He wrapped his hand around the door knob and slowly started turning it. Opening the door with the at most apprehensiveness… Opening it slowly, inch by inch… Finally fully opening the door, and staring in startled amazement at the figure before him…
"Hermione?" Bewilderment was evident in Harry's tone. For there, standing right in front of him, was one of his best friends, Hermione Jean Granger, with bushy brown hair and deep brown eyes that were slightly swollen and a slightly bloodshot. Surprise and confusion struck him, like raging waves crashing onto jagged rock, as this was the first visitor he's had in months.
"H-Hi Harry," Hermione's voice ripe with timidity. "C-Can I c-come in?"
" Of course. Hermione, are you okay?" asks Harry.
"I should be asking you the same," Hermione responded sharply, finding herself again, now that the attention wasn't solely on her.
"What?" Harry quickly retorted.
"Oh don't give me that rubbish!" Anger seeped through her voice as she raged on. "You know full well what I'm talking about."
"What are you going on about?" snapped Harry.
Harry just gaped at her in odd bewilderment, as if she was about to sprout another head. Then Hermione hastily pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet, and held it out in front of Harry. The alcohol flooded out of Harry's system, while that creeping abyss crawled out of his stomach and reaching his throat, making him feel ill. For there, clutched in Hermione's hands, was a front-page article, with a moving photo of Ginny Weasley sharing a deep, passionate kiss with a young Puddlemere United Quidditch player. And everything came down on Harry like a whirling tornado.
"Oh," was all that escaped Harry's now-dry mouth as he looked up at Hermione.
"'Oh?' That's all you're going to say?"
"What else do you expect me to say, Hermione?" Harry's voice was small.
"Harry, I know that this is hurting you. You can't honestly tell me that this is not!"
"It's over Hermione, it's done," Harry said as he gloomily swept his way to the sitting room while Hermione followed closely.
"Do you still love her?" Hermione asked.
"What?"
" Do-you-still-love-her?" Her growing came slightly angrier.
"I don't-I don't know…" Harry admitted as his voice trailed off.
For the next few moments, they sat there in utter silence, until Harry's voice shattered it. "Look," Harry began, his voice small and lips slightly trembling, "It's over…we haven't talked since I confronted her about it…it's just over," finished Harry with a dejected look stretched across his face.
"Okay", he began. "Now it's your turn. What's wrong, Hermione? I can tell something's wrong."
Hermione's eyes started to well with tears, her mouth in a spasm, beginning to open to speak, but quickly closing up again.
"Come on, Hermione, you know you can tell me anything." Harry spoke soothingly as he gently grabbed Hermione's hand and squeezed it tightly, hoping that this would encourage her to start speaking.
"Ron," she began, "he…" She could not complete the words, as her tears cascaded down her cheeks freely.
"He, what?" Harry's voice was quiet and affectionate.
"He… he….h-hit me…" Hermione choked into sobs.
"He didn't?"
Hermione nodded, her cheeks glazed with tears. Harry, still holding onto her hand, pulled her towards him as he sat down on the couch, Hermione sitting next to him. She then moved her hair that caressed her left cheek to show a fresh bruise where her bushy hair obstructed it from view. She then began to roll up her sleeve on her left arm to reveal another fresh bruise, in a somewhat distorted form of a hand. A knot tied in Harry's throat at the sight; he could not believe that his best friend could do this.
Hermione was now bawling. She lowered her head on Harry's firm shoulder, while he held her in a tight embrace. Harry couldn't help but take comfort of the warmness of her body against his, while she soaked his solder with her tears. "It's going to be okay- shhh- it's going to be okay," he said while stroking Hermione's hair.
"I-I don't e-even know what happened… we were arguing… I don't e-even remember what about… and then he h-hit me…" Hermione croaked between sobs.
"Its okay Hermione, don't worry everything will be fine," Harry cooed. He continued his soft and comforting words.
Harry pulled himself away and gently caressed her cheeks with his hands, wiping tears away with the pads of his thumbs, before dropping his hand to gently hold hers. Next thing Harry knew they were both gazing into each other's eyes, not being to tear theirs away.
Before he knew it, Harry was lost in a sea of chocolate. And all sense in the world was lost. Harry could feel the blood pounding in his head…to his ears…until it would only circulate to one organ in his body…
With desperation, before he could throw caution to the reckless wind, Harry managed to tear his gaze from Hermione's, though his hand still rested on hers. Then a familiar sound began to fill up the room. Quite at first, but impregnating…slowly building sound…coming from the Wizarding Wireless sitting on a nearby table. The familiar tune poured memory upon memory, feeling upon feeling in Harry's mind, like a ravenous flood. The memory of that night, feelings of hopelessness and despair…the night Ron walked out on him and Hermione. Hermione crying in the tent, while he stood helplessly outside…not knowing what to do. It was then that he walked inside to find Hermione sitting on a stair, mindlessly staring at the Wizarding Wireless while it cranked out a song. The same song that had just come on seconds ago...
Harry tore himself from off the couch and stood up, extending his hand out to Hermione, receiving the same quizzical look he had received that night that Ron left, making Harry feel like a complete idiot for a moment, until Hermione obliged and stood up to take his hand. A bit awkward at first, they began to sway with the music, getting familiar with each other's bodies with the fading seconds.
O children
Lift up your voice, lift up your voice
Children
Rejoice, rejoice
Hey little train! We are all jumping on
The train that goes to the Kingdom
We're happy, Ma, we're having fun
And the train ain't even left the station
The song grew to its rising climax, they swayed on, with childish grins spread across their faces…feeling the innocent joy they felt on that day…being able to banish all their problems and fears to another world, if only just for a moment…and so they rejoiced and bathed in this moment…
And the music cranked on:
Hey little train! Wait for me!
I once was blind but now I see
And have you left a seat for me?
Is that such a stretch of the imagination?
Hey little train! Wait for me!
I was held in chains but now I'm free
I'm hanging in there, don't you see
In this process of elimination
Hey little train! We are all jumping on
The train that goes to the Kingdom
We're happy, Ma, we're having fun
It's beyond my wildest expectation
Hey little train! We are all jumping on
The train that goes to the Kingdom
We're happy, Ma, we're having fun
And the train ain't even left the station…
Harry and Hermione's movements came to stop as the music began to quietly fade into the background. But they held onto each other, and silently stared into each eyes once more. Harry felt the blood pounding in his ears again, as he began to lose himself. His mouth dry, as his face began to draw itself closer to Hermione's, internally blaming her mesmerizing gaze. Inch by inch, his face drew closer and closer, he could feel her breath sweetly tickling his nose. Closer…and closer until only a few molecules of space were between their open mouths. An inch of air separating the then from the now…only an inch between them, before he would cross that line where there would be no return from… and their lips finally meet. Something goes off inside him, an explosion…a fire that melts away that icy black hole abyss that dwelled inside him. Their lips move in sync, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. When they come apart they, breaths heaving, they nestle their foreheads against each other's and stare into each other's eyes. To Harry she had never looked so wonderful, so beautiful, as with the fireplace's light dancing across her lovely, delicate features. And in her eyes he just sees warmth and love, something he had sorely been missing.
They don't take their eyes off each other's. No words are spoken. No words are needed. For they know that they are where they belong…this is how it was supposed to be…