CHAPTER 5
AN: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. School has been absolutely crazy and I'm class president and stuff and last week was Homecoming. Muhahaha.
Okay, apology aside, does anyone know how to do italics?
Harry slapped at a fly on his neck. It continued to tickle him.
"Go away!" he grumbled. Turning to his other side, Harry opened his eyes slowly to look into those of Mrs. Weasley. Harry immediately blushed.
"Time to get up," she said dryly. Her eyes were puffy and she looked tired; she was not nearly as cheery as normal. Harry suspected she had not slept all night, and he wondered why.
Throwing back the covers and setting his feet on the ground with a loud thump, Harry stumbled over to where his suitcase sat. He grabbed a pair of jeans, a tee shirt and boxers. He left Ron's bedroom to shower silently, mechanically, still half asleep. ((AN: this is for all ya'll who say 'Dirty Harry'. he does never shower))
Turning on the water, he stepped in the shower and was woken by the icy water. And he remembered.
He remembered why Mrs. Weasley would've looked so drained. The true root of all evil in the magical world. Voldemort. How could he have forgotten?
Harry ran his hand through his dripping hair, trying to relieve some anxiety perhaps, as the initially freezing water began to scorch him.
The deaths, especially Dean's, only added to Harry's mounting nerves. Every day, hour, minute and second drew Harry closer to the time he would face Voldemort. A final time.
Harry slumped against the wall, suddenly feeling exhausted. This was far too much for him to take in, wasn't he allowed just a break in time? But there was no break. The water kept running, the toilet kept dripping and the floor kept creaking as people kept walking by.
"Harry?" called Ron. "Are you almost done in there?"
"Oh.uh. yea.." Harry said quickly, grabbing the bottle of shampoo and pouring a tablespoonful in his hand. ((Shout out to all you 'Dirty Harry' people!! He never showers.)) He quickly massaged it into his head, and rinsed. He rubbed the Lever 2000 over his body. If only there was a soap for your soul, and it would remove all the dirt, the blood, until you were left with an immaculate, beautiful heart. And it has never been hurt. And it has never been challenged, or betrayed, or broken, or torn. It is perfect.
AN: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. School has been absolutely crazy and I'm class president and stuff and last week was Homecoming. Muhahaha.
Okay, apology aside, does anyone know how to do italics?
Harry slapped at a fly on his neck. It continued to tickle him.
"Go away!" he grumbled. Turning to his other side, Harry opened his eyes slowly to look into those of Mrs. Weasley. Harry immediately blushed.
"Time to get up," she said dryly. Her eyes were puffy and she looked tired; she was not nearly as cheery as normal. Harry suspected she had not slept all night, and he wondered why.
Throwing back the covers and setting his feet on the ground with a loud thump, Harry stumbled over to where his suitcase sat. He grabbed a pair of jeans, a tee shirt and boxers. He left Ron's bedroom to shower silently, mechanically, still half asleep. ((AN: this is for all ya'll who say 'Dirty Harry'. he does never shower))
Turning on the water, he stepped in the shower and was woken by the icy water. And he remembered.
He remembered why Mrs. Weasley would've looked so drained. The true root of all evil in the magical world. Voldemort. How could he have forgotten?
Harry ran his hand through his dripping hair, trying to relieve some anxiety perhaps, as the initially freezing water began to scorch him.
The deaths, especially Dean's, only added to Harry's mounting nerves. Every day, hour, minute and second drew Harry closer to the time he would face Voldemort. A final time.
Harry slumped against the wall, suddenly feeling exhausted. This was far too much for him to take in, wasn't he allowed just a break in time? But there was no break. The water kept running, the toilet kept dripping and the floor kept creaking as people kept walking by.
"Harry?" called Ron. "Are you almost done in there?"
"Oh.uh. yea.." Harry said quickly, grabbing the bottle of shampoo and pouring a tablespoonful in his hand. ((Shout out to all you 'Dirty Harry' people!! He never showers.)) He quickly massaged it into his head, and rinsed. He rubbed the Lever 2000 over his body. If only there was a soap for your soul, and it would remove all the dirt, the blood, until you were left with an immaculate, beautiful heart. And it has never been hurt. And it has never been challenged, or betrayed, or broken, or torn. It is perfect.