Disclaimer: I own only the plot. And Maria. The song is not mine either Not sure who it's by but it's not mine.
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Story Of A Girl
She didn't know him. She knew who he was. Everyone knew who the boy with baggy hand-me-down clothes was. The boy with the glasses that always seemed to be broken. The boy with a scar on his forehead. The boy that everyone hated. Except Maria. She didn't't hate him. Because she didn't know him.
But she was scared of the boys cousin. She knew that if anyone tried to become friends with the boy, Harry, that they would get beaten on. So she stayed away.
Maria, only eight years old lay on her canopy bed and remembered. She remembered the time she had made eye contact with the boy. She had been standing in line for physical education, waiting to be picked for a kick ball team. She was always one of the last. But never The Last. That title was reserved for Harry. The boy with the round glasses and the lightening bolt scar.
She had glanced at Harry. And at that moment he turned his head and looked at her too. His eyes were a deep bottle green. They stood out, bright against his black hair and pale skin. Maria looked back at him with her own amber colored eyes. The Look must have only lasted a second but she could picture him in her mind as though she had stared long enough to memorize his every feature. But she turned from him. And in a way she was as bad as all the other kids. The ones that teased him and pinched his skinny arms hissing insults at him. And Harry was always picked last.
Maria didn't know why she was always picked second to last. She was a fair player. At lunch she sat alone too. Because no one would sit with her. She didn't know why. She would have been willing to share her cookies. But no one wanted to be around her. And sometimes she wondered if she was doing something wrong.
On a gray rainy Monday morning Maria watched The Boy from her hiding place behind the big dumpster. She didn't know who she was hiding from. Perhaps it was from herself. She always watched The Boy since that day in the gym, where he always got picked last. He was walking to the big front doors and Maria could hear him singing softly.
"When I said I needed you
Did you think it was just a way to get to you
'cause I was feeling lost?
You said something I didn't understand.
But I felt something when I held your hand.
It's all right."
She didn't know the song. But she knew their meaning. She watched The Boy in the baggy clothes and the broken glasses walk up the steps. And while he had no friends, and no family that loved him, he still sang. Even though the parents forbid their kids from playing with him and murmured things when they thought the kids weren't listening. Rumors, about his parents, how they were dead. And about the Dursley's and how they were so respectable and how had such a boy come to live with them? But The Boy still sang.
The Boy's cousin and his group of "Special Friends" saw The Boy, and started poking fun at him. They pinched his skinny arms and threw his glasses in the dumpster. They punched him in the stomach and smeared mud on his face. And The Boy didn't fight back. They left after a short time, even beating up a small boy was not interesting enough for them.
Maria waited until the boys went into the school. She watched The Boy fumbling around on the ground. Searching for his glasses. She saw him wince as he ran a piece of glass accidentally into his palm. She saw the bruises on his neck and scraps and cuts on his arms. And Maria stopped being afraid.
She stood on her tiptoes and searched the dumpster with her hands until she felt the metal frames. She pulled them out. The glasses were round, and cheap. Maria gently wiped the ketchup and other grime off the glasses and reaching out she tapped The Boy on the shoulder.
He spun around, his hands coming up to his face to warn off the expected blow. She saw that his lip was bleeding from where the boy, Dudley had slapped him. And reaching into her pocket she pulled out a handkerchief. She reached up, and The Boy, unable to see who it was or what was happening coward. But Maria only out the handkerchief, with the embroidered purple flowers up to his mouth. The Boy, not understanding squinted at her. Trying to see. He held the cloth to his mouth and Maria put his glasses on his nose. The Boy could see her now. And slowly, hesitantly he smiled at her. It was a questioning smile. A hopeful smile. And Maria smiled back.
A ball rolled toward them and bumped into Maria's foot. She bent down and picked it up. She looked around but she could not see who had thrown it. She looked at The Boy and gestured to the four-square box and held up the ball. The Boy smiled again, this time a happy smile and nodded. And without words they began to play.
And soon it became a tradition. And it was a normal sight to see Horrid Harry and Mad Maria together. And though they never talked much, they were always together. They sat with each other at lunch. They played together at recess. In art they shared the crayons. But they never talked about their lives. Maria didn't tell Harry that her mother sold herself to men for money, and that she didn't know who her father was. And Harry didn't tell Maria that he lived in a cupboard under the stairs and went often without any food. But somehow they both knew. They both understood.
Sometimes they laughed together, and once they even cried. But mostly they just were together, not talking, just being.
"Boy?" Maria asked one day, for that was what she always called him. "Do you ever think that there's somethin' missin'?" Harry thought about her question. Forming an answer before he spoke.
"Yes. I think that there has to be more. Because if this is all there is, then who would want to be here?"
And Maria nodded. Then she picked up a ball and they walked to the foursquare court. And they never talked about that again.
But one day Maria didn't come to school. And she didn't come the next day either. Or the day after that. And Harry was alone again. The last picked, sitting alone, no one to talk to. And he wondered where she was. He asked the teacher and she said only that she didn't know.
But a week later Maria came back. And things went back to normal. For a while.
"Boy?" Maria said. Harry looked at her. "I'm not 'pose to play with you anymore."
"Why?" Harry asked. Confused, and hurt.
"My mum says that you've done bad things." Her eyes grew round and looking around to make sure no one was listening she said, "My mum heard that you take things that aint yours. And that you beat your Aunt's dog once."
"But that's not true." Harry said. "I don't take things. And I'm scared of Aunt Marge's dogs."
Maria said,
"I know. That's what I told 'er. But she said she didn't believe me. And that I'm not 't play with you. But I will anyway. She can't stop me."
And so they continued to play together. And sometimes they talked. But mostly they were quiet. The Boy with the baggy clothes and the broken glasses, and the girl with the amber eyes and the long blond pigtails.
And for a while things seemed normal again. But it didn't last. Nothing ever does last. And this was no exception.
One day Maria came to school, but she looked different. Her eye was swollen, purple and tender to the touch. And she hand grab marks around her neck. But she didn't tell The Boy about it. Instead she said,
"Boy?" Harry nodded, "I can't play with you anymore." Harry cocked his head to once side and said,
"Why not?"
"Because, Boy, I'm not allowed to. And me mum and I are movin'. She says that things are better away from this place. She says that there's ways 't get decent money."
Harry nodded. And they didn't talk anymore. They played four-square one last time. And when Maria was leaving school she went over to Harry.
"Well, Boy. I 'pose this is goodbye."
Harry nodded,
"I suppose it is."
And he gave her a folded slip of paper.
"It has my address on it. So you can write...If you want to." Harry said. Maria nodded, looking down at the paper with his messy hand writing. She then did something she had never done before and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. And Harry hugged her back. Then after a minute they broke away.
"G'bye Boy."
"Good bye Maria."
And they never saw each other again. Maria sat in the car, while her mother drove her away from the only place she knew and the only friend she had ever had. And she cried. She cried for The Boy with the lightening scar, and the baggy clothes, and she cried for her. The girl with long blond pigtails. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the piece of paper The Boy had given her. She unfolded it and saw while it had his address it also had a note. It read,
Maria,
I hope you find what you're looking for.
Your friend,
Harry Potter.
The Maria smiled. And her mum turned on the radio. And Maria started singing along with it, still smiling through her tears.
"When I said I needed you
Did you think it was just a way to get to you
'cause I was feeling lost?
You said something I didn't understand.
But I felt something when I held your hand.
It's all right."
The End.
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AN/ What a sad fic. I have no idea where it came from. It just sort of happened. Any food back would be appreciated. Flame away if you must, though I would prefer that you didn't. But please review!
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Story Of A Girl
She didn't know him. She knew who he was. Everyone knew who the boy with baggy hand-me-down clothes was. The boy with the glasses that always seemed to be broken. The boy with a scar on his forehead. The boy that everyone hated. Except Maria. She didn't't hate him. Because she didn't know him.
But she was scared of the boys cousin. She knew that if anyone tried to become friends with the boy, Harry, that they would get beaten on. So she stayed away.
Maria, only eight years old lay on her canopy bed and remembered. She remembered the time she had made eye contact with the boy. She had been standing in line for physical education, waiting to be picked for a kick ball team. She was always one of the last. But never The Last. That title was reserved for Harry. The boy with the round glasses and the lightening bolt scar.
She had glanced at Harry. And at that moment he turned his head and looked at her too. His eyes were a deep bottle green. They stood out, bright against his black hair and pale skin. Maria looked back at him with her own amber colored eyes. The Look must have only lasted a second but she could picture him in her mind as though she had stared long enough to memorize his every feature. But she turned from him. And in a way she was as bad as all the other kids. The ones that teased him and pinched his skinny arms hissing insults at him. And Harry was always picked last.
Maria didn't know why she was always picked second to last. She was a fair player. At lunch she sat alone too. Because no one would sit with her. She didn't know why. She would have been willing to share her cookies. But no one wanted to be around her. And sometimes she wondered if she was doing something wrong.
On a gray rainy Monday morning Maria watched The Boy from her hiding place behind the big dumpster. She didn't know who she was hiding from. Perhaps it was from herself. She always watched The Boy since that day in the gym, where he always got picked last. He was walking to the big front doors and Maria could hear him singing softly.
"When I said I needed you
Did you think it was just a way to get to you
'cause I was feeling lost?
You said something I didn't understand.
But I felt something when I held your hand.
It's all right."
She didn't know the song. But she knew their meaning. She watched The Boy in the baggy clothes and the broken glasses walk up the steps. And while he had no friends, and no family that loved him, he still sang. Even though the parents forbid their kids from playing with him and murmured things when they thought the kids weren't listening. Rumors, about his parents, how they were dead. And about the Dursley's and how they were so respectable and how had such a boy come to live with them? But The Boy still sang.
The Boy's cousin and his group of "Special Friends" saw The Boy, and started poking fun at him. They pinched his skinny arms and threw his glasses in the dumpster. They punched him in the stomach and smeared mud on his face. And The Boy didn't fight back. They left after a short time, even beating up a small boy was not interesting enough for them.
Maria waited until the boys went into the school. She watched The Boy fumbling around on the ground. Searching for his glasses. She saw him wince as he ran a piece of glass accidentally into his palm. She saw the bruises on his neck and scraps and cuts on his arms. And Maria stopped being afraid.
She stood on her tiptoes and searched the dumpster with her hands until she felt the metal frames. She pulled them out. The glasses were round, and cheap. Maria gently wiped the ketchup and other grime off the glasses and reaching out she tapped The Boy on the shoulder.
He spun around, his hands coming up to his face to warn off the expected blow. She saw that his lip was bleeding from where the boy, Dudley had slapped him. And reaching into her pocket she pulled out a handkerchief. She reached up, and The Boy, unable to see who it was or what was happening coward. But Maria only out the handkerchief, with the embroidered purple flowers up to his mouth. The Boy, not understanding squinted at her. Trying to see. He held the cloth to his mouth and Maria put his glasses on his nose. The Boy could see her now. And slowly, hesitantly he smiled at her. It was a questioning smile. A hopeful smile. And Maria smiled back.
A ball rolled toward them and bumped into Maria's foot. She bent down and picked it up. She looked around but she could not see who had thrown it. She looked at The Boy and gestured to the four-square box and held up the ball. The Boy smiled again, this time a happy smile and nodded. And without words they began to play.
And soon it became a tradition. And it was a normal sight to see Horrid Harry and Mad Maria together. And though they never talked much, they were always together. They sat with each other at lunch. They played together at recess. In art they shared the crayons. But they never talked about their lives. Maria didn't tell Harry that her mother sold herself to men for money, and that she didn't know who her father was. And Harry didn't tell Maria that he lived in a cupboard under the stairs and went often without any food. But somehow they both knew. They both understood.
Sometimes they laughed together, and once they even cried. But mostly they just were together, not talking, just being.
"Boy?" Maria asked one day, for that was what she always called him. "Do you ever think that there's somethin' missin'?" Harry thought about her question. Forming an answer before he spoke.
"Yes. I think that there has to be more. Because if this is all there is, then who would want to be here?"
And Maria nodded. Then she picked up a ball and they walked to the foursquare court. And they never talked about that again.
But one day Maria didn't come to school. And she didn't come the next day either. Or the day after that. And Harry was alone again. The last picked, sitting alone, no one to talk to. And he wondered where she was. He asked the teacher and she said only that she didn't know.
But a week later Maria came back. And things went back to normal. For a while.
"Boy?" Maria said. Harry looked at her. "I'm not 'pose to play with you anymore."
"Why?" Harry asked. Confused, and hurt.
"My mum says that you've done bad things." Her eyes grew round and looking around to make sure no one was listening she said, "My mum heard that you take things that aint yours. And that you beat your Aunt's dog once."
"But that's not true." Harry said. "I don't take things. And I'm scared of Aunt Marge's dogs."
Maria said,
"I know. That's what I told 'er. But she said she didn't believe me. And that I'm not 't play with you. But I will anyway. She can't stop me."
And so they continued to play together. And sometimes they talked. But mostly they were quiet. The Boy with the baggy clothes and the broken glasses, and the girl with the amber eyes and the long blond pigtails.
And for a while things seemed normal again. But it didn't last. Nothing ever does last. And this was no exception.
One day Maria came to school, but she looked different. Her eye was swollen, purple and tender to the touch. And she hand grab marks around her neck. But she didn't tell The Boy about it. Instead she said,
"Boy?" Harry nodded, "I can't play with you anymore." Harry cocked his head to once side and said,
"Why not?"
"Because, Boy, I'm not allowed to. And me mum and I are movin'. She says that things are better away from this place. She says that there's ways 't get decent money."
Harry nodded. And they didn't talk anymore. They played four-square one last time. And when Maria was leaving school she went over to Harry.
"Well, Boy. I 'pose this is goodbye."
Harry nodded,
"I suppose it is."
And he gave her a folded slip of paper.
"It has my address on it. So you can write...If you want to." Harry said. Maria nodded, looking down at the paper with his messy hand writing. She then did something she had never done before and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. And Harry hugged her back. Then after a minute they broke away.
"G'bye Boy."
"Good bye Maria."
And they never saw each other again. Maria sat in the car, while her mother drove her away from the only place she knew and the only friend she had ever had. And she cried. She cried for The Boy with the lightening scar, and the baggy clothes, and she cried for her. The girl with long blond pigtails. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the piece of paper The Boy had given her. She unfolded it and saw while it had his address it also had a note. It read,
Maria,
I hope you find what you're looking for.
Your friend,
Harry Potter.
The Maria smiled. And her mum turned on the radio. And Maria started singing along with it, still smiling through her tears.
"When I said I needed you
Did you think it was just a way to get to you
'cause I was feeling lost?
You said something I didn't understand.
But I felt something when I held your hand.
It's all right."
The End.
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AN/ What a sad fic. I have no idea where it came from. It just sort of happened. Any food back would be appreciated. Flame away if you must, though I would prefer that you didn't. But please review!