It's late and morning's in no hurry
and sleep won't let me go
I lie awake and try to recall
How your body felt beside me
But silence gets too hard to handle
and the night too long
- Sarah McLachlan, Wintersong
Harry rolled over and opened his eyes to see snowflakes outside his dormitory window. Christmas day snowflakes.
Something was wrong, and with a start Harry realized that this was the first Christmas morning in eight years that Harry had been allowed to wake up on his own on Christmas morn - there had been no 'Oy' from Ron, accompanied soon after by a package landing atop Harry's face. Hermione would not be coming to join them soon after, ignoring Ron's protests, plunking herself down onto the end of one of their beds and handing out presents. The dorm had been devoid of all but the three of them, and they had unpackaged their presents together, Hermione and Harry enjoying themselves while Ron, who always opened all of his presents before them, rubbed his stomach and lamented about being slow to breakfast. Eventually they caved and gave in to Ron; the three had headed down the spiral stairs together and made their way down to the Great Hall for a spectacular brunch.
Now the dorm was empty and cold without them, and Harry stayed cocooned in his blankets for hours. The phantom taste of kippers and eggs from the Christmas' past could not lure him to the Great Hall, and he remained in his bed, the only taste on his tongue the bitter salt of the tears rolling down his cheeks, dribbling past his lips.
He recalled all of the presents they had exchanged; each of their gifts was dear to him - they were all safely stored in his trunk, where he was able to see them often - to hold them and remember. To imagine their hands where his sat as they picked it up off the shelf to purchase it, as they wrapped it in brightly coloured paper. Hermione's gifts had always been neatly packaged, the corners tucked, the paper firmly creased. Harry could see her in his mind's eye, wrapping presents as thoroughly as she studied, everything she needed neatly arranged around her as conveniently as possible, a contented smile on her face. He could almost here her humming muggle Christmas carols. Ron's gifts looked to be almost hastily wrapped by comparison, and one could almost infer that he didn't care about doing a good job of it. That thought had never crossed Harry's mind, though; he could imagine Ron, far less organize than Hermione, grumbling while he searched for tape or a bigger piece of wrap, inevitably crumpling the paper by his own hand or by an ill-fated attempt to magic his way out of a mess, though he invariably ended up making a bigger one.
Harry eventually pushed his way out of his four-poster, ignoring the cold on the soles of his feet as he padded toward his trunk. He crouched down slowly, reaching forward, letting his fingers rest a moment on the metal latches before flicking them open and lifting the lid, exposing the messy contents to the silent room. After shifting some of his clothes he found what he was looking for; a small, inconspicuous, fabric-covered box. He gently picked it up and carried it back to the bed, settling atop the covers cross-legged, the box resting in his lap.
Harry lifted the top off and put it down beside him, revealing that the inside of the box was bigger inside than it should be; he was, of course, a wizard now, and though the inside of the box wasn't nearly as large as Hermione's beaded bag had been, it was enough. He reached in with trembling fingers, allowing them to wander until they found the edge of a violently orange book. He pulled out Flying With the Cannons, and after a cursory glance at the cover he opened the book, its spine creaking softly in the still morning air; he flipped through the pages, looking at the moving pictures, running his fingers over the comments Ron had left on the books pages, along with his attempts to successfully draw the team's logo . When Harry was done the sun was just starting to rise, light slowly leaking in through the windows. He closed the book perhaps a little too quickly and a breath of air escaped, sending the dust motes around him swirling through the streaks of sun that was now flooding through the windows. He reached into the box again, pulling out another book; this time it was Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland. He opened the front cover to see Hermione's tidy writing: 'Merry Christmas, Harry! Love from Hermione' He ran his fingers over the words before closing the book and setting it aside before reaching once again into the box. He sifted slowly through the rest of the contents - an eagle feather quill and a rather chatty homework planner from Hermione, a bag that had once contained dung bombs from Ron, and, of course, chocolate frog cards - including the Dumbledore card that had tipped the trio off to Nicholas Flamel's identity and the stone; it had been the last frog in the box Hermione had given him for Christmas that year - and various other sweet wrappers and boxes they had given him on Christmas that Harry had salvaged from his trunk and had carefully placed inside the box.
Once finished Harry gently put everything safely away he slid off the bed, cradling the gift-box in his arms. He placed it back into his trunk, replacing its covering of his clothes, before digging out his invisibility cloak . He then shut the trunk and shoved it under the bed until it was out of sight, but under where he would lay.
Satisfied, Harry pulled the cloak on and crawled into bed, where he spent his afternoon, invisible and silent, mourning the loss of his better two thirds.
Well, here you are; second chapter finally finished! Not quite what I wanted it to be, but I already took double the time I was planning on, so I figured that I'd get it up. Looking forward to writing chapter four, just have to get through chapter three first! Super busy this week, though, so we'll have to see how it goes. Oh, and thanks so much to Becky143jonas for the review! More, of course, are always appreciated, but if not I hope that you enjoy the story just the same. I am, after all, writing for myself first and foremost :) Tataa for now.
Cheerio(s), Moksgmol
Oh, and I don't own Harry Potter or any affiliated intellectual property.
