Author's Note: I do not and never will own Harry Potter.
Written for the Occasion-a-Day Competition/Challenge. September 8 Prompt: Write about giving something away.
Warning for suicidal ideation. AU.
He was done.
Harry sighed, un-tucking himself from his bed. Everyone else was down at Quidditch practice (or in Hermione's case, the library). He should be, too, but he didn't feel like it. Again.
Voldemort was dead, the Horcrux had been wrenched from his head, everything was supposed to be good now, but it wasn't. He was still an awkward fifteen-year-old boy with too many memories and too much sadness crowding every square inch of his skull. The Dursleys still hated him and the Headmaster still wanted him there, in case they hadn't rounded up all of You Know Who's supporters.
His broom was tucked under the end of his blankets and he tugged it out, turning it over in his hands. The only wrapping paper he had was left over from Christmas, but he wrapped it up anyway. It was a mess at the end, more tape than paper, but it was the thought that counted, right?
The tag he saved for last. He'd never properly managed a quill, so the ink was splotched, but the only important bit was the name, anyway. "To Ron, from Harry. For being the best friend and brother I could have ever asked for." He set the package on Ron's bed, with the end poking out so his friend would be sure to see it.
Grabbing his invisibility cloak, Harry wrapped it around himself and ducked down the steps and out the portrait hole. He didn't know where he was going, he just knew he wanted to go.
(Sorry this is so open-ended at the end, but it felt right to end it there.)