Anywhere but in Between
Same as always. I don't own anything but the plot.
Chapter 3 – Thinking of Home
Harry was having a horrible day. More so than usual, and that was saying a lot.
He had woken up late, entirely throwing off his normal, daily schedule. He skipped breakfast to try and make up for some lost time, which had him cranky and hungry. He'd missed his usual trolley, causing him to take a line he wasn't accustomed to. When he'd finally arrived at the little Quidditch supply store he worked at, he'd been thoroughly reprimanded by his boss and was issued his second, and last, warning about such behavior. He had also been advised, strongly and without much sympathy, to work through his lunch hour to make up for his tardiness.
Harry's stomach grumbled in loud protest as he recalled the events of his day. He was now walking to meet his trolley, cursing under his breath at the impending dark clouds that signaled more rain.
Usually he didn't mind the temperamental weather of Bulgaria. He was used to poor conditions, having lived in England for so long, but the rain they'd been receiving for the past week was starting to turn his mood as cloudy as the skies.
He had debated stopping for a bite to eat before making his trolley, but everything within him screamed to make it home, bar the door, eat and then sleep clear until morning.
He knew exactly why he was so touchy and unfocused, and the thoughts running through his head did nothing to ward off the intense headache he felt coming on. His sleep had been haunted by the images and memories, and he had woken up several times throughout the night trying to push them as far out of his mind as he could.
A large woman was sitting at the trolley stop when he arrived, and Harry took a seat next to her. She gave him a small smile of greeting, which he did not return. It wasn't that he wanted to be rude; he just wasn't sure if he remembered how to go about smiling in the first place. It was safer to not even try.
His eyes stared off into the distance, over the small hill that led back into the village. Today was the day that the seventh years would be graduating from Hogwarts. He'd been out of school for two years. He'd been away from home and all of his friends for two long, lonely years.
The war had been over for two years.
For about the millionth time, he wondered if he should go home, back to everything and everyone that meant anything to him. For the millionth time, he dismissed the idea painfully. He couldn't go home yet. Things were still too raw. He wouldn't be good for anyone right now, and to see him would only remind everyone of how much they had lost and sacrificed. No, he reminded himself. It was better that he stayed right here in Bulgaria.
Sighing, he checked his watch. The trolley would arrive within the next five minutes or so. He found himself not really caring whether it showed up at all. He was bored with his life, and didn't really have anything to go home to, so why should he care whether or not the trolley ever came? All it would do would be to take him back to a flat that had absolutely no character or warmth. Once there, he would sit on the neutral sofa and blindly watch the tele until it was time to go to bed and start his mundane, pointless routine all over again the next morning. There would be no visits from friends, no meetings to get to, no social engagements to honor. He was alone, and although it was exactly what he wanted, he hated the hollowness in his chest and the bitter detachment he felt from everything around him.
The only thing that kept him going at a fairly steady pace was news from home. He had all of his friends' letters in a small box under his bed, and took them out whenever he missed them most. Even though he didn't write much back - he could never bring himself to try and explain why he stayed away - he always enjoyed poring over every little bit of news they would send his way. Ron's last letter had been filled with the trivial goings-on of people in his office, but to Harry, they were windows into his best mate's world; one he was not a part of anymore.
Suddenly, the ache of missing his friends hit him so hard, it almost winded him. He knew it would be like this. It had been like this last year on graduation day as well. Then, however, it had been slightly worse. He knew that Ginny was graduating, and he would have loved to have been there with all of his other friends to see her and Luna start the next step of their lives. He hadn't even sent an owl. There were parts of him that were dying off, little by little, and he didn't want to infect anyone with his poor attitude. They were all better off without him for the time being, at least until they could get a handle on their own lives and find something worthwhile.
The ring of the trolley could be heard in the distance, and the woman next to him struggled to her feet. She grimaced at him as she righted herself.
"Don't ever get old, dear," she said with a smirk, hauling her large bag onto her shoulder.
Harry stood as well, deciding not to respond to her comment. He knew he still looked like a young man, but he felt about a hundred. Whereas her pains were physical and out there for the world to see, his were emotional and buried inside him in the pit of his stomach.
The trolley coasted to a stop in front of them, and Harry waited patiently as she stepped onto the platform. He followed her slowly down the aisle, seeking an empty bench.
"Is this seat taken?" he heard the woman ask as he took the seat directly in back of her.
He sank low onto the bench and took his usual position, curling almost into himself to avoid contact with anyone. His stomach ached with hunger, and his mind continued to replay various memories of his own graduation day spent with his friends.
His mind jumped to the party the Weasleys had thrown for them after the ceremony, and Harry's heart thudded painfully when he remembered the laughter and the good times of that day.
Just then, the woman took her seat, and Harry's gaze latched onto a flash of red. At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but in the next instant, his eyes focused and he found himself staring at Ginny Weasley's troubled, clouded face.
He stopped breathing for a moment, and the moment was all it took.
She stood up, and bolted for the open doorway as if the devil himself were chasing her down.
Harry sat motionless for what seemed like an eternity. Thousands of things ran through his mind at such an alarming speed, he was afraid he'd have a nervous breakdown right there on the trolley.
Then, without thinking, he found himself rising out of his own seat, and sprinting for the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him.