Disclaimer: I don't own Harry potter, nor any of the recognizable characters. I only own the OC and the plot.
It was different than where she came from.
It was the other side of the world-literally, as if it was a mirror reflection. People were white, pink or peachy, there was a glow to the sun that washed everything in what looked like a pale florescent light.
It was almost the beginning of July and she was still wearing a long sleeved sweatshirt to bed. In her homeland, the world was washed in the orange light of the sun, people were permanently tanned, so she didn't stand out like she did here. Here, people would gape at her, sometimes they complimented her for her "tan", or her dark, thick short her, or wide eyes. Once, one of her father's friends told her that she looked like a Bollywood star- that she was very "authentic". Well, she didn't really take it as a compliment, but she smiled anyway-as the people on Privet Drive would. Nod and smile and say polite words that you didn't really mean.
Most of the people on Privet Drive, anyway. She couldn't count the boy who worked at house number 4.
He wasn't there the first couple weeks after she moved into neighborhood, so she assumed that maybe this was his summer job. But he wouldn't leave in the evening either, which was quite bizarre, She assumed that maybe it was common here for teenagers to stay the night where they worked. She assumed that he lived in some poor neighborhood-given his haggard appearance-that was quite faraway. And so it would've been hard to travel back and forth to work every day, and that was why he stayed the night. And that had made sense to her until one particular afternoon.
She was feeling curious, not lonely-or at least that was what she told herself. He was washing Mr. Dursley's car and must have been in a faraway daydream, for when she strode directly to him and said a too-loud, rushed "Hi," he was startled. So startled that he directed the hose to her face and reached back to his waist as if searching for some weapon. They both stared to each other, the water still running and her face and t-shirt drenched.
He appeared to recover from the shock first "I- uh- sorry, I am really sorry-" He reached out for a dry cleaning cloth and was about to dry her shirt when he realized that it was a very bad idea, so he just handed it to her.
"Hi," she said again, smiling and drying her shirt. "I just wanted to say 'hi', sorry if I scared you," she said handing him the cloth again. He eyed her questionably though, as if expecting an explanation. He deserved one anyway, people didn't just say "HI" to people they didn't know, especially if those people on the receiving end of this "hi" were believed to go to St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys.
She noticed his confusion and continued, pushing a wet lock of her hair nervously behind her ear "I'm kind of new here- I have no friends-or um-well I do have friends, but they're kind of stiff and uptight" He raised an eyebrow and smiled, apparently amused.
"My father is a diplomat," she blurted out. "So we move a lot - we live here now, actually," she said pointing with her thumb to the white and airy house across the street "...and this is how I make friends," she said finally.
He just stood there, shocked maybe- well probably. He made a slight move that she thought, for a moment, meant that he was going to continue cleaning the car and ignore her, but then he suddenly extended a hand, a red knuckled bony hand, and smiled to her.
"Harry," he said.
She took his hand and was about to introduce herself when suddenly the shrill voice of Mrs. Dursely came from the house with a high pitched "BOOOY!"
Startled, she dropped his hand.
He closed his eyes briefly in what she thought was an attempt to contain his anger, then started almost lazily collecting the cleaning supplies. He yelled back "Coming Aunt Petunia," and gave her a hurried glance of farewell.
That was the day she figured out that he most likely didn't just "work" there. And that idea made her quite uncomfortable.
The world somehow became a muffled blur of colors and voices.
It is not that he didn't care anymore, he didn't have this luxury either, but maybe he was just tired, exhausted actually. Maybe his mind was crowded enough that there was no place left in it to register his surroundings, everything seemed trivial, the children playing in the park, the annoying voices of his sad excuse of a family, his friends' long letters, his short replies, everything was trivial as if he wasn't living among the living anymore, rather floating above them.
He lost Sirius, as he tend to loose everyone; he has a pending death sentence over his head, and it is not only his head on stake but thousands of innocent people lives as well, so sulking around or giving up were not an option.
Everything had to pale in significance, even that loneliness that tend to claw his insides at night.
He sat on the damp grass in his aunt's perfect garden, leaning with his back to her stone flower bed, feeling the gentle morning breeze on his face, trying to breathe.
There were days when he'd finish his chores and go straight to bed using his exhaustion as a sleeping medication. Other days he'd wonder near the house, maybe visit the nearby park, and watch how life went on oblivious to the upcoming storm-oblivious to his mess of a life. He'd sometimes catch himself smiling to a child or responding to a friendly dog, and he wouldn't leave except when he feels exhausted enough to sleep the moment his body touches the bed.
And there were some days- like that day, when he fails to sleep all night, so he'd wait until the first rays of dawn changes the lonely darkness of the night to a friendlier blue, while he just sat there, watching the sky, breathing in the cold morning breeze, letting the dew soothe his insides- it felt almost hopeful.
He was lost in his thoughts when he heard a soft gasp and a thud somewhere out of the boundaries of the garden, near the pavement maybe. He considered ignoring it but being who he is, he just couldn't. So he quietly rose, and walked to where he thought the sound had come from, and near the pavement he found someone in the shadows- a young lady, somewhere between getting up and sitting on the hard stone as if in slow motion. He figured out the reason of that awkward position for when she tried to rise again, she fell back to the sitting position, releasing an annoyed "huff".
In three wide steps, in a slow run, he reached her and offered a hand "Here," he said startling her. He didn't have to see her face so he could figure out who she was, that short thick black hair was too familiar.
She used his hand to stand a bit straighter, and busied herself with inspecting the damage, muttering an embarrassed "Thanks," and there came the unavoidable awkward silence.
Then, seeing that he was still there, obviously inspecting her for damage, brain damage maybe, since grown-ups don't just trip over the pavement like six year olds, she added hastily "I didn't see that bump over there" pointing to the uneven, evil part stone that caused all the trouble.
"Oh. She is just welcoming you- all the kids here had their knees signed by her" he said smiling somehow kindly, like a person would smile for a child "- I myself have several signatures from her".
She smiled at that, inspecting -now more seriously- her injuries. "well that was a warm welcome- literally" she said raising her scrapped palm for emphasis, her jogging pants were also torn, revealing her bloody, scrapped knees.
Harry was about to invite her in to wash her hands and knees, then he quickly realized how wrong that may go; after all he can't invite people to a house that is not his. He wondered for a brief moment if he will ever have a home of his own, or live to that day anyway.
He decided to focus on more pressing issues for the moment "you can use the garden hose to wash your hand, it will help" he said pointing to his aunt's garden, then added as an afterthought when his own words sounded a bit rude to him " I am sorry- my aunt doesn't really appreciate visitors".
She wasn't exactly taken aback by his words, but she still felt uncomfortable "It is fine, my place is not that far," she said trying to end the whole awkward situation "Thank you".
She was about to limp her way back home when he said "sorry for the other day as well- you didn't get to introduce yourself", He surprised himself by that, he wasn't particularly friendly but somehow felt guilty for not inviting her in, and a small talk wouldn't hurt really-or so he thought.
"Nada" she said, limping a step back and extending her hand. She winced a bit when he returned the hand shake, which didn't go unnoticed by him "Well, Nada you really don't look fine".
She paused for a moment then limped one step down the pavement and sat on the stone floor "Well, Harry that was a good observation".
He looked down at her and chuckled a little, secretly glad about the falling formality "I will be back in a minute" he said walking hurriedly towards the house.
She saw him leaving and couldn't help to wonder what his story was, she always felt guilty when she thought about people that way as she felt like it invaded their privacy, but she couldn't deny either that there was definitely a story behind that Harry; he apparently lives here, has been living here as a child, with an aunt who didn't seem really nice- at least to him, his appearance was so not private drive, but the way he talked wasn't vulgar or rude either, and there was the fact that he wasn't there the first couple of weeks she came, so where was he?
He thankfully interrupted her prying thoughts as he came back with what looked like a napkin in his hand-it was indeed a napkin full of ice.
"Here," he said sitting beside her "this will help numb it a bit". She took the napkin from him with a genuine "thanks" and held it to one knee, and they fell in that awkward silence once more.
"So, Nada?" He said, breaking the silence "is that short for something?"
apparently not so good in starting a conversation, she though a bit amused. In fact moving from one country to another, having to introduce herself all the time to strangers that mostly looked at her as an interesting display from the natural history museum, she was familiar with such questions that they almost became less annoying, but still.
"No, just Nada," she said sporting her privet drive smile.
He looked at her for a moment, somewhere between embarrassed and guilty.
Well, don't be too hard on him, he is not them, she scolded herself mentally
"It means the morning dew, quite common actually" she said lightly, focusing her attention on the napkin she was holding now to her elbow.
For a fraction of a second, a ghost of recognition passed on his features, as if the name had rang a bell, as if the moment that he knew what it means- it made sense, and then he smiled, his eyes however were looking to a faraway place.
Author's Note: This is my first attempt to write fanfiction, so any advice will be very welcomed.
This will be a short story (15 chapters max of which 8 are already written and the rest panned) so you can expect relatively short intervals between updates.
I also need to say that English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes, either grammatical or "cultural" please let me know.
and relevant to the previous note: I am in a great need of a beta.