A/N: No reviews, okay? ): /slash wrist
Special thanks to moonqueen, Ms. Mimi Elphie-Amy, maraduersmad, Mashar, and Dark Lady 09 for the alerts and faves~.
9 Comments, 7 Faves, & 5 Alerts as of now.
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"Friends need not agree in everything or go always together, or have no comparable other friendships of the same intimacy."
~ George Santayana
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Chapter 4: The Touch
We packed our things to prepare for the following day. Afterwards, we apparated to Godric's Hollow as agreed. We were unaware of our surroundings, but nonetheless, we were vigilant, as well as the fake and real Moody put it. We were trying to familiarize ourselves with the foreign vicinity. As we made our way to the graveyard, Hermione was the first one to break the silence, "I still think we should use a Polyjuice Potion."
"No," I replied gently. "This is where I was born. I won't be turning into someone else."
Then, a bell rang, signifying people coming in and out of the house. I inclined my arm and she took it. We walked arm-in-arm, no blushing, because we were already doing this in the past six years.
"Harry, I think it's Christmas Eve," said Hermione. "Listen."
True enough, a choir was heard singing inside the church. Next to the church was the graveyard. "Do you think they may be in there, Hermione?" I asked. "My mum and dad?"
In my blurry peripheral vision, Hermione looked at me, and then at the graveyard, before responding, "Yeah, maybe we should-"
But she was cut off by my look so intensifying. She felt that I wanted to see them, no matter.* And so we went there, opened the kissing gate and we searched for my parents' grave, separated. I took the first row, while she took the other one.
Granted, I had found it out on the corner of the graveyard. It was hard to find for the letters could be barely seen because of the snow.
IN LOVING MEMORY OF:
JAMES POTTER && LILY POTTER
BORN 27 MARCH 1960 BORN 30 JANUARY 1960
DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981 DIED OCTOBER 31 1981
"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."
As soon I saw it, I acted emotional and felt a stinging pit of loneliness inside my forlorn heart. After all, I've grown up without a mum, dad and if possible, a sibling, mainly, a family. Suddenly, Ron's voice echoed inside my mind, "Your parents are dead. You have no family!"
I felt a sinking pit in my stomach as I remembered the memory. I was disgusted of Ron, my ex-best friend, but I couldn't blame him. He was wearing the locket which multiplies the sorrows, angst, loneliness and even anger whenever you wear it, so I understand him.
I could feel Hermione's presence around me, but I didn't turn in her direction. As if reading my mind, she knelt and conjured a wreath of Christmas roses which suited pretty well. Afterwards, she stood up. I was about to say thank you, but I didn't. She just knew I was.
So now, I'm crying. Tears threaten to spill on the corner of my eyes. I rub my nose and I sigh audibly. "Merry Christmas, Hermione."
"Merry Christmas, Harry," Hermione replies. She moves towards me, her head on my shoulder, her right hand on my left one patting and letting go, our fingers intertwining. I lean towards her touch.
For a moment, I don't want to let go because it's like this: we're like two pieces of a puzzle, made for each other to understand, to love, to cherish, to nurture and to protect. It's ironic how the other night I was comforting her by being goofy towards her because it was partly my fault, and now, in return she's comforting me by giving me this kind of intimacy.
Maybe this intimacy is supposed to be considered as friends, for comforting, understanding, platonic friendship and love, or it could be more, an impossible yet a requited kind of love.
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A/N : When I said I wanted them to review, they didn't, but when I didn't say any of them to review, they review. Omigosh. The irony.
* By the way, in the movie, Hermione stared at Harry, then at his lips and looked down for a moment, but because of Harry's fuzzy peripheral vision and of his parents' grave, he didn't mind it.
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