And so the sun was shinning through the tress, making shadows play on his skin. The flickering of light was a play on words, even if his eyes were closed, Harry could see: the ribbons of black, a splash of golden tints illuminated his perfect face, pale. If only I could …
I know, Harry, why you wouldn't understand, the simplicity of walking on grass without appropriate caution. Flying through the air can sometimes make you feel better; while I loved you more on the ground, among the reeds, that's where you'll fly, with the fish, Harry. Careful, do be careful with what you say and what you mean. Suddenly, you won't bother to explain, I'll try, don't worry. Understand, understand. I will wait for hours, I will drink tea incessantly, I will breathe and sigh continuously. Make me feel better, Harry.
Sneakers soaked with soggy sea water, don't bother taking them off, they're ruined already. Last time seen: walking hand in hand by the dock. I'll pay for it this time, you just sit. I can take pictures, Harry, don't worry. I know you don't trust me, but trust me, alright? Yesterday, the sea was a warning and now I'll read our horoscopes more thoroughly, yes, Harry, it's very important. So what if you think I'm crazy, you're no one to judge me. Click.
It's as simple as breathing, Harry. It takes that much effort and only you, the great Harry Potter, can botch it up so completely. It's almost scary. I'll understand, of course. It's all about perspective, Harry, in this little room, and it's white, by the way, so horribly white, something can happen or it doesn't have to, you don't have to do anything, Harry, Harry, are you there, Harry?
Crispy cold morning: it's only seven o'clock you big lush. I need my sleep too, you dumb idiot, Harry, please turn the light off and would you mind killing that stupid chirping thing? Yeah, the alarm-clock, yeah, whatever. Just get back here, it's getting cold. No, I don't need you to remind me that I do have a very delicate health condition, I fall into sickness quite fast….hey, why aren't you paying attention, Harry? Harry! I should smack you, but I won't, just stop that snivelling laughter of yours before I reconsider…
I'll have to leave soon, Harry, I want to stay longer, but Harry, Harry, Harry, you always have to take the hard way, don't you? I can live with you, join you, but what good will that do, and I do know that I'm an annoying prick, don't remind me, I know. I know you care, Harry, it's just sometimes rather odd having to talk to a near-dead person. Oh. I'm not supposed to say that. Forget I said it, Harry, you'll never die, you're Harry Potter. So please, live up to the title, why don't you? I always knew you were an idiot but I can understand too, I always did.
From together, yesterday and today, you'll be a friend, alone swimming underneath me and either sinking or soaring, friends stick together, forever, Harry.
See: a figure approaching a small cottage, on the shore, his shoes held in his right and the left hand, swinging in the breeze. The cottage has a porch and on that porch a young man with silver hair is dozing in a wooden chair, his head titled towards the sea.
Welcome Home, written in large, dark blue letters. Anything to make you smile, Harry.
The End.