Wolves - Maggie Rogers

She held the paper at her side, fingers trailing along the worn edges.

Let's see each other again! The Leaky? Saturday?

A chance encounter in Muggle London after a practice when she just wanted something quick to eat before having to go home.

Just a lunch. Two friends catching up. Careers and life having got in the way. She hadn't seen him since that day. When they finally dragged his brother's body out of the castle. Right after her's.

One lunch. Two. Then three. Then letters, phone calls (Hermione had taught her).

They danced around the pain for a minute that first time. One joke about lost time and she found herself opening up in a way she didn't think she still needed to. His laughter was an echo of a brother, she didn't know whose.

She had the life she wanted. Harry. The Harpies. Her family. But she ached. Harry gave her comfort, how could he not? But that year apart settled into both their souls with a tension unable to shake off.

Her bravery manifested after school in daring to claim a life for herself, although any protests were negligible. She sought her career and she didn't marry Harry, even though Ron and Hermione settled down together one year after Hermione had finished Hogwarts. She loved Harry with every piece of the little girl she once was and the woman she came to be her sixth year...but. There was a but and it dragged against her heels as she moved through her life constantly calling to her. She ignored it and she chose to be happy. Her doubts, this sliver of "stop," it didn't make sense. She had what she dreamed of each night she slept alongside Neville, when the fear would leave. She had dared to dream that year and finally, finally she had her life. A life of love and family and friendship and ambition. But...

When Harry would go to sleep at night she would lay awake, searching for a reason in her mind. One never appeared.

That's why it felt so sudden when one night, as she left the muggle bar with him, her cheeks slightly flushed from celebrating a quidditch victory. Harry had to work late on a case and she wanted to see someone, share her happiness. So she called him. It was dark and she doesn't know who leaned in first. She remembers feeling warm. He lived nearby and they went. In the morning she woke up and she felt..nothing. Not different, not better. She got up, kissed his cheek, told him she would see him later, and she left. Went home. Showered. Harry had already gone to work. He left a note on the counter.

Missed you last night. Hope you had fun with the team. I'll be home for dinner.

She kept the note in her hand as she went about her morning. Folding and creasing the edges. She thought that if she kept touching it she might feel something.

She had the note in her hand when the morning paper came. Something about the nondescript bird felt final. Without a reason she turned to the society section and she could see her red hair, sparkling under a streetlight. You could just make out the profile of him, nothing more. All they needed was her hair. That was a story enough.

She held the note in one hand and the paper in the other and she felt nothing.