Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor An Angel For May.
Author's Note: I'm sorry the cliffhanger back there, but I thought it had to be done. This chapter will no longer contain those pointless ramblings that you've seen earlier, and there will be ACTUAL things happening. So I shan't keep you waiting any longer. Onward! (And be sure to review and let me know what your thoughts of the story are thus far! Reviews will be welcomed with open arms, and will definitely give me a reason to keep writing this story (and updating quickly, if that is what you guys want), as well as allowing me some insight as to whether the story is all right, or whether there is much space for improvement or perhaps only a little –shrug-. Either way, let me know!)
An Angel For MiaChapter 3
"What the…" Harry murmured to himself, as his ears once again met the sound of the dog's persistent barking, slightly muted by the constant poring of the rain, which now landed directly onto Harry's face, splashing across his glasses in small drops.
Harry groaned softly, opening his eyes and readjusting his spectacles, as he sat up and began to examine his surroundings. Probing about lightly, he noticed that he was now seated on damp, yet soft, grass. And instead of being on the inside of the farmhouse he had been in earlier, he was now on the outside, as though he had passed through the wall.
Brows furrowed, Harry stood slowly, feeling slightly light-headed and more than a little perplexed by the evening's happenings. He analyzed his surroundings carefully, turning from side to side, looking for anything that could possibly let on to where he was and why, until it hit him. Harry reached forward slightly, touching the stone wall through with he had seemingly passed, and his hand went through the wall with ease, causing him to gasp in surprise, despite that he half expected it to happen.
Questions and possibilities filled Harry's mind, buzzing around at the speed of light as he wondered over and over why he was brought here, as well as what sort of interest that dog had in him. Harry thoughts briefly drifted to the possibility of passing right back through the wall and continue his walking, allowing him the opportunity to forget that any of it had happened at all, but he was much too curious to do such a thing. He wasn't going to go back until he figured out exactly what this dog wanted from him and why he was brought here. It all seemed safe enough, anyhow.
Harry was brought forth from his musings once again, by the dog, which had brought him here in the first place, as she rubbed her head against his pant leg, in an almost cat-like manner. She obviously wanted something else from him, and wasn't going to give up until she got it. Bringing him here hadn't been enough.
"What is it you want? Why am I here?" Harry asked, keeping his voice low, though it had a slightly exasperated tone to it, as he continued to observe his surroundings. Everything was so new. Had he been taken into the past?
The dog whined, barked, and whimpered, doing all she could to obtain Harry's complete attention, as if she was signaling for him to understand her, and to do some sort of task, which was obviously quite important to her.
The dog backed away from Harry slightly, continuously barking, making perfect eye contact, seemingly beckoning for him to follow her. Harry took a cautious step forward, complying with the dog's wishes, though still slightly reluctant. The dog took a few more steps back, continuing to bark at him, beckoning him further, and proceeding to turn around and run a few paces before turning back and continuing to bark when she saw that Harry was hesitant to follow.
"Alright, alright, girl, I'm coming," Harry murmured, as he began to walk forward in the direction in which the dog had gone running. She waited until he reached her and then took off at a faster pace, causing Harry to begin sprinting in order to keep up with her.
After a few moments of running along the paved road, the dog turned sharply into an alleyway, slowing her pace as she did so. Harry followed, hesitating slightly before entering the alley, but complying nevertheless.
Harry took a few tentative steps forward before the silhouette of a girl came into view. She looked to be about his age. She sat on the ground, leaning against the stone wall behind her, hugging her knees, which were pulled up to her chest.
Is this what he was brought here for? Was he meant to help her?
Harry stepped closer, his curiously getting the better of him as he watched her. She looked deep in thought, but distressed at the same time, and the dog, which had led Harry to the alley, was now lying by the girl, looking content, as though it had no worries in the world.
Harry came to a stop in front of the girl, standing only a bit less than a metre away from her. Harry knew that she was aware of his presence by the way that her whole body tensed when he came near, and as Harry watched her, he couldn't help but feel terribly sorry for her. She was completely soaked from head to foot, and she was shivering slightly. Her matted brown hair stuck to her face and neck, and her beautiful now dirt-covered featured were screwed up in concentration, as she seemed to be willing herself not to look up, and to continue what seemed to be the continuous observation of her raggedy shoes. She looked utterly depressed in Harry's opinion, and he found himself wishing he could help that in some way.
"Hello," Harry said quietly, speaking only a bit above a whisper, in hopes of not startling the frail girl who sat before him. She furrowed her eyebrows, and for a moment Harry thought that she might not answer him at all.
"Hi," she whispered so quietly that Harry could hardly hear her. Harry sighed. At least she was responding to him. Harry wasn't sure why he even cared. He had never seen this girl before in his life, and she wasn't his responsibility or his problem, but he felt as though he needed to be there for her. Maybe he was just trying to be the hero like he always was, and even though it seemed as though she didn't want his help in the least, he was going to try anyhow.
Harry took a small step towards her and kneeled down in front of her slowly. She tensed further, causing Harry to frown, because slowing his motions further.
"What's your name?" Harry asked her, speaking quietly, as he watched her curiously.
"Mia," she mumbled, her voice holding a slight concluding tone, telling Harry that she wanted nothing less than to be speaking to him at the moment, but at the same time, she seemed so helpless, and Harry knew that she needed someone to be there for her. He thought briefly of giving up on her, since she obviously wanted nothing to do with him, but it would have been heartless for him to simply leave her here in the rain.
"I'm Harry," he said, trailing off slightly, as he waited for any signs of acknowledgment on her part.
A few moments passed in silence, as Harry waited for the girl, Mia, to become slightly more comfortable with his presence, and she seemed to be becoming just that, even if only a bit, because after another minute or so, she tilted her head upwards slightly, and proceeded to look to Harry's torso, instead of her own shoes.
At this angle, Harry could see how truly beautiful she was, as well as how troubled she seemed. Harry only wished that she would look at him so that he could see into her eyes, and possibly decipher the way she was feeling and why. He waited in silence without saying a word. He wanted her to begin to trust him, even in the slightest, although that might have been too much to ask, as they had only just met, but Harry felt some sort of attachment to Mia that he couldn't quite explain, and seeing a girl such as her looking so vulnerable and down-spirited made his heart break.
Harry watched as Mia exhaled slightly, and took the chance to glance up into his eyes. Her hollow and fearful cinnamon brown eyes met his sorrowful emerald green ones, and Mia looked down almost instantly, as Harry gasped softly. The amount of pain that her eyes held was overwhelming just to look at, and Harry could now understand why she was so unwilling to open up to him. Something terrible must have happened to her in her past to have made her feel this way. This didn't seem to Harry as being something that was temporary, and Harry found himself desperate to help her in any way possible. But first, he would have to gain her trust. That was definitely going to be the difficult part. Why was it that he was always the one who found himself in these sorts of complicated situations?
'Because you bring them upon yourself, Potter, it was your bloody choice to try and talk to her in the first place, therefore, it's your own bloody fault that you can't back out now!' Harry thought to himself, in retaliation to his earlier question.
Perhaps the dog that had brought him here knew him not to back out of these sorts of situations, which is why she was so persistent in trying to bring him here. But how on earth would the dog have known of him? Perhaps she brought him here simply because he was the only person who had come to the ruined farmhouse at that time? No, no, there seemed to be much more to it.
Harry pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being, and brought his full attention back to Mia, who had now returned her gaze to her own shoes and was sitting in silence, continuing to shiver slightly in the cold.
"What is it you're doing here in the rain?" Harry asked, his voice soft, yet slightly probing, hoping to find out a bit more about her and why she was here alone.
"Sitting," Mia said, barely audibly, still avoiding any proper conversation.
"You're dripping wet. You might catch cold," Harry said quietly, as he reached over to touch her shoulder gently, feeling the thin, wet fabric of her once white blouse. Mia noticeably tensed at the contact, and turned her head to the side, pushing her back further into the wall, as she continued to shiver, possibly even more than before.
"I won't hurt you," Harry whispered, as he noticed a tear escape her left eye, mingling with the raindrops that covered her skin.
"I promise," Harry assured her, his heart breaking all over again.
He watched as Mia nodded slightly, though she still didn't seem to trust him much. But that wasn't his first priority at that moment. Right then, he wanted to make sure that Mia did not freeze to death right there in front of him.
"Do you have someplace to stay at night?" Harry asked her, hoping that she did.
Mia nodded in the affirmative in response to his question.
"Would you like for me to walk you there?" Harry probed a bit further, hoping to find a way he could help her.
Mia shook her head slightly, clearly not wanting to go back just then. She seemed as though she wanted to continue sitting in the rain, perhaps until she did, in fact, freeze to death.
"Please let me help you," Harry almost begged, wanting too badly to find a way to keep her warm.
"Leave me alone please," Mia whispered. She seemed to have said it more out of fear that he would, in fact, hurt her, despite his promise not to, than actual desire for him to leave.
"Look," Harry spoke gently, "All I want to do is help you. The last thing I want to do right now is to hurt you, I promise, please. Let me help you keep warm, I don't want you to get hurt," Harry explained desperately, meaning every word.
Mia turned her head slightly to look at him, pleading with him to be sincere, as a few more tears trickled down her cheeks. Harry reached up slowly, almost as if waiting for approval, before running his thumb gently along one cheek and then the other, wiping away her tears, and then proceeding to tuck the hair that had been sticking to her skin behind her ears.
Mia gasped softly as a few quick sobs escaped her. Harry ran his thumb along her cheek once again, this time relishing in the softness of her skin before sliding his hand down to her shoulder. Harry couldn't help touching her cheek that one last time. She was so beautiful, sitting there before him. Her face held a natural beauty that most girls didn't have. And dirt and tears or not, he wanted to touch her so badly, as if to confirm that she was, in fact, real.
Mia sobbed softly for a few more moments, not making to move his hand away from her, as if to see if he would try and do something or say something else. After another minute or so of silence, Mia looked up once again to see his saddened eyes staring down at her.
"What happened to your nose?" Mia whispered, unable to keep herself from asking, as her eyes landed on the bruising that now covered his nose and part of his right cheek.
"Wha-? Oh," Harry said quietly, now being the one to look down, "my uncle decided he wanted to teach me a lesson," Harry mumbled.
"Wh-What did you do?" Mia asked uncertainly, her voice still only a bit above a whisper, as curiosity began getting the better of her. She was clearly beginning to feel a bit more comfortable around Harry, though she still didn't trust him.
"I didn't do anything," Harry explained, shaking his head, and hoping desperately that she believed him, since the absolute last thing he wanted her to think was that he actually had deserved the short beating he had gotten from his uncle. He by no means wanted her to think that he was a troublemaker.
"Surely you must have, for him to do such a thing to you," Mia whispered carefully, looking thoughtful, and clearly hoping not to anger him.
"I didn't do anything," Harry repeated, becoming slightly annoyed for a moment, before realizing who he was talking to, and that she had no possible way of knowing what he had and hadn't done.
"I-I'm sorry," Mia whispered, looking down again. Harry instantly regretted deeply the way he had spoken harshly to her.
"No, no, don't be. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be talking to you that way, it's not as if it's your fault," Harry explained, "He just frustrates me, is all. He insulted my parents, and then went on to say how ungrateful I was, after all the cleaning and cooking I've done for them. All I did was defend my parents. He practically said that they deserved to die," Harry ended in a whisper, but then realized that he shouldn't be burdening this girl with his own problems. It was just so easy for him to talk about it in front of her, yet he unsure why. Perhaps, it was since he thought she would understand, as well as that he simply wanted her to know the truth so that she would not come to the conclusion of his being some sort of troublemaker or juvenile delinquent, for that matter.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered again, "I shouldn't be telling you this, you don't need extra things to think about."
Mia looked up at him again, her eyes now saddened more than they had been before, if possible.
"Your parents are dead?" she asked cautiously.
"They died when I was only a baby," Harry explained, as he saw her frown increasing.
"It's not as thought I ever really knew them anyhow," Harry said, hoping to make her feel a bit better, though it didn't seem to work.
"Mine are dead too," she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes for the third time that night, as she seemed to recall the memory.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered back, "I'm sorry I even brought it up," he continued, regretting that he said anything to her at all.
For some reason, Harry suddenly felt so vulnerable around her, as though he could open up to her and tell her anything and everything, although he didn't want to burden her with all his problems, while she so clearly had many of her own. Harry rubbed his thumb back and forth over her shoulder comfortingly, as her eyes closed of their own accord.
He was glad that she was talking to him, and for some unexplainable reason, Harry felt there was a strong connection between them. He almost felt as if he knew her, even though he didn't in the least. He didn't even have a clue as to what she was doing here, or who she was. He hardly knew anything about her, aside from her name.
Mia shook her head slightly, as if saying that he needn't be sorry.
Harry didn't say anything in response. He simply watched her as she cried. Clearly, this girl had never had a chance to open up to anyone about what she was feeling in the past. And if she had, it was on very rare occasion, and therefore the pain had been continuously building up inside her. Harry understood exactly how she felt, for he had done exactly this to himself many times.
As Harry watched her, an overwhelming desire to pull her into his arms and hold her until her crying had ceased, had overtaken him, and he was hardly able to stop himself from doing just that. He knew that she still didn't trust him as much as he would have hoped she would, but he didn't blame her in the least. She didn't know anything about him, or what his intentions may be, and even though Harry's intentions were noble, Mia had no way of knowing that.
Harry moved his hand away from her shoulder and rested it lightly onto her cheek. She was still shivering and shaking slightly, now not only from cold, but from her tears as well.
"Let it go," Harry whispered, knowing how talking about it for the first time in so long must have effected her. He only wished that she would know how well he truly understood her, but telling her now wouldn't be of much comfort to her, for she already had far too many things on her mind.
The moment Harry's words had passed his lips, hundreds of separate emotions seemed to flash over Mia's face all at once, although her eyes remained closed, almost as though she was afraid of opening them. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, as sobs racked her body, and seemingly, of its own accord, her head leaned into Harry's hand slightly, as if for comfort.
Harry could feel his heart breaking for the third time that evening, all because of this one girl that was now sitting in front of him. He wanted desperately to relieve her pain, even if it meant to take it upon himself. He felt as though he would be content only knowing that she would be all right. Harry could only hope that she would feel a bit better after a good cry, and he vowed to himself that he wouldn't leave her until he was sure that she would make it out okay, despite her clearly bothersome situation, the nature of which he still wasn't completely certain, though knowing of her parents' death had caused him to understand what this girl had been going through a bit better, especially seeing as how the Dursleys had treated him following his own parents' death.
"Everything will be all right," Harry reassured her, hoping that his words were the truth, though Harry was quite skeptical of them coming as easily as he had said it, given Mia's current state.
"How can you be so sure?" Mia whispered, as a particularly large sob escaped her. Harry could see that Mia was clearly still apprehensive by her being so close to him, even as he felt her push her cheek further into his hand, whilst leaning a bit closer (by such a small amount that if Harry hadn't been paying such close attention he undoubtedly would not have noticed at all). Momentarily following the slight progression, she appeared to flinch slightly, as though in realization of what she had done, and without second thought, as far as Harry could tell, she leaned back slightly, and released part, though not all, of the pressure her cheek had had on the palm of his hand.
"Mia," Harry whispered to her, saying her name for the first time that night, as the realisation of just that came to him, causing him to revel in how wonderful it sounded hearing himself say it, though he was not quite sure as to why he thought it had sounded so wonderful.
"Look," Harry told her, "I cannot promise you that everything will be all right," he said, feeling as though he had to be perfectly honest with her, "but… I'm not going to leave you here so that you can go on and see all on your own. I want you to be all right, and I want to help you so that you can be. Now all you have to do is to let me," Harry explained, hoping that his voice sounded more comforting then it had demanding, though he was going for a little bit of both.
"Why are you doing this?" Mia murmured uncertainly, seemingly unsure of whether she should be asking, perhaps in fear of his taking back his offer to help her in the first place. Her voice sounded terribly hopeless, and Harry once again had the overwhelming desire to pull her into his arms and protect her with everything he had.
Harry did not know what to say in response to Mia's question, for it seemed to him as though, by asking that question, she had simply voiced his own thoughts. He did not know why he was doing this, and he wasn't completely sure he would ever figure it out either.
"I-I don't know," Harry whispered, in hope that his response would be appropriate, and would not scare her off in any way.
"H-how could you n-not know? I-if you are h-here?" Mia asked timidly, her voice breaking, and hot tears never ceasing to make their way down her cheeks as she spoke.
"I... I-I just… don't," Harry replied, attempting to think of something better to say before he had finished his sentence, though he was unable to decide on anything that sounded much better.
Mia seemed slightly apprehensive about his revelation to her, for she did not respond to him in any way following his confession. She simply settled for looking back down towards Harry's torso, her features donning an expression of thoughtfulness. Moments passed, and her tears had now calmed slightly, for her thoughts seemed to be regarding an entirely different matter. Harry unwaveringly watched her, not taking his eyes off of her for a fraction of a second. He watched as various emotions spread over her features, then being replaced by others within seconds, as though she had a million separate thoughts floating around in her mind all in the same moment.
Mia continued to shiver, as she was now soaked to the bone, and Harry feared for her safety, though he knew there was nothing he could do about it if she was unwilling to accept his assistance. Perhaps she would allow him to take her to her home if he chose to ask again? A decent amount of time had passed since he had last asked her and perhaps, since she had now become more comfortable with his presence, though only slightly… Perhaps, now she would allow him to help her.
"Mia…" Harry whispered to her, hoping that his sudden words would not startle her, for they had sat in silence for many moments now. Once Harry uttered her name, he was unable to stop himself from once again, reveling in how wonderful it sounded hearing himself say it, and once again, he stopped for a moment to wonder as to why it amazed it so much.
Harry witnessed as Mia's eyes closed, seemingly of their own accord, once he had spoken her name, but she had not responded. Harry took this as a sign that he could continue.
"Mia…" he whispered again, "Perhaps I could take you home… I don't want you to catch cold. It would be terrible for you to turn out spending the night here, and I wouldn't want you to be forced to walk home alone in the dark…" Harry explained, his voice soothing, hoping desperately that she would agree to his assistance.
Mia looked thoughtful, as she frowned slightly. She was considering him, and due to this, Harry felt a slight glimmer of hope. Harry watched her carefully, wanting dreadfully to see her give some sort of sign that meant she had agreed, and surely enough, she gave him a small nod in the affirmative, which, to Harry, the way in which she still looked so horribly unhappy, seemed as though she had only agreed to his assistance because she felt as though she could not refuse.
Her nod caused Harry to smile weakly, due to how glad he was that she had agreed to his assistance, although at the same time, he deeply hoped that she did not feel too pressured, for he did not want her to believe that he wished to pressure her into agreeing to anything she did not want to agree to. Despite Harry's apprehension regarding the way Mia felt about the situation, he knew he had to take her home, for if he did not, he feared she would not end up coming home at all that night.
At this, Harry moved to stand up, slowly dropping his hand from where it had been resting on her cheek. He stood before her, waiting for her to do something, anything, but when she hadn't, he reached out slowly and held his hand out to her, as though offering to help her stand. Mia momentarily glanced at his outstretched hand before averting her eyes once more, and beginning to stand up on her own. Harry accepted this, retrieving his hand, for he knew that she needed time if she were to trust him.
Once she had gotten to her feet, she did not make any motion to inform him of where she lived or begin walking there on her own, instead, she simply stood there, which allowed Harry a chance to look at her properly. She was approximately fifteen centimetres shorter than he, but the way she carried herself, almost made it seem as though she was a whole metre shorter, which was a bit of exaggeration on Harry's part, of course. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with her posture either, it was perfect, actually, but there was an aura of self-consciousness and self-doubt radiating from her entire body, which made her seem so vulnerable and helpless, that Harry began feeling as though he would give just about anything just to see her smile, even if it was only once.
Mia still had not lifted her gaze from the ground. This caused Harry to believe that she was attempting to avoid ever making any short of eye contact with him again. He once again hoped that she did not feel pressured by this whole situation to do anything she did not want to do, or go anywhere she did not want to go, but as Harry had decided before, he would not leave her.
"Mia…" Harry whispered, watching her intently, as she continued to stare, at what was, apparently, a small crack in the asphalt. As far as Harry could tell, Mia did not pay a second thought to his saying her name.
"Mia, please," Harry near begged. It was now becoming colder, for it was now deeper into the night, and a cold wind was beginning to blow over them, which combined with standing in the rain, and therefore being soaking wet; would not achieve a favored result.
Harry, upon closer inspection, noticed that through all this time, Mia had continued to cry silently, her tears mingling with the filth and raindrops covering her beautiful face. Harry nearly began to cry with her at that moment, for he wanted so badly for her to be all right, and wanted terribly for her to stop feeling this pain. Near more than he had wanted anything in his life, save his desire of having a real family, or of Sirius and his parents returning, which he knew was impossible anyhow.
"Please don't cry anymore," Harry whispered, turning to face her, as he reached out and placed his hand beneath her chin, lifting it slightly in hopes that she would look at him, though to no avail, for her eyes remained lowered.
"Look at me," Harry murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. It was not a command; it was a desperate plea. A plea which Mia seemingly had chosen to oblige, for Harry was taken aback as she looked up, straight into his shining emerald green orbs, and this time, she did not look away.
Harry, although this time prepared for the horror he was do see buried in her eyes, found himself sucking in air as their gazes met, for there was no way to truly prepare yourself to see such pain. It wasn't as though she had deserved it either. There were plenty of horrible people in the world that deserved the sort of pain Mia was feeling, but this girl hadn't done anything to deserve it. Harry was sure of that.
Mia did not seem to be rejecting the closeness between she and Harry at that moment, though she was clearly uncomfortable with any sudden contact she had received from him. Another thought once crossed Harry's mind; perhaps she felt as though she was not aloud to outright refuse anything that Harry offered her, or that she was not aloud to tell him that he was making her feel uncomfortable.
At this, Harry dropped his fingers from her chin and took half a step away from her. Mia seemed surprised at his actions for her eyes widened slightly. Had she been used to people taking advantage of her, or was she simply so scared that she was unable to defend herself. Either one was a clear possibility.
"I'm sorry," Harry apologized, "I shouldn't be touching you," he continued, his voice a mere whisper.
"Y-you shouldn't?" Mia asked hesitantly, now staring up at him in wonder.
"No. It isn't my place. Y-you do know that you could have told me if I was making you feel uncomfortable in any way, don't you know that?" Harry asked her, hoping that she would answer in the affirmative, though near positive that she wouldn't.
"I… I-I c-could have?" Mia whispered, disbelievingly. It seemed as though she had never heard of such a thing.
"Of course you could have!" Harry exclaimed, furrowing his brows, his voice coming out a bit more commanding then he had hoped.
Mia looked alarmed at his sudden outburst and had taken a small step away from him.
"I'm sorry," Harry apologized again, "I shouldn't be raising my voice at you."
Mia remained silent. Harry now stood rooted to the spot he had been standing in, unable to think of a reason that he would accept, for what might have happened to Mia to make her act this way, for all and any possibilities his mind came up, seemed far too horrible for him to believe that they had happened to the fragile girl before him, and that she had overcome it, even if she had become so insecure. Harry wished that, perhaps, he could ask her what was bothering her, and why she continued to cry, but he knew that would not be a good approach to the circumstance for that would only make Mia feel further uncomforted by his presence. He would need to wait, give her time to begin to trust him, and then perhaps, she would open up to him. Only in that case, would he truly be able to help her.
"Come Mia," Harry spoke, his voice quiet, finally breaking the silence, "Let me walk you home." It was almost weird to Harry to be speaking up after such a lengthy silence, but his taking her home was the only thing he would be forced to pressure her into, though, he hoped, only slightly. For if he had not taken her home, it seemed as though she would not have gone home at all that night. It seemed as though she would not have cared if she had gotten sick, or perhaps even died, for what she had seemingly experienced could more easily have been compared to Hagrid's jaw-breaking cakes, then a slice of Dobby the house elf's moist pumpkin pie.
Harry watched as Mia slowly and hesitantly made her way to him, for he had been closer to the entrance of the alley. Mia looked as though she was having trouble remembering that she simply needed to put one foot in front of the other in order to move forward, and Harry found himself frowning deeply as he watched her take the three steps she needed to take in order to reach him.
Mia stood beside Harry for a moment, not moving to lead him to where she would sleep. Harry hoped that she would begin to walk on her own, for he did not wish to further pressure her by sounding demanding, due to asking her so many times prior to her standing up, if he could take her home.
Harry then decided that his best approach would be to take a small step forward and allow her to follow him when she decided, by her standards, that it was all right. Once Harry had taken the step forward, he waited for a moment, watching to see what Mia would do in response. She still had not looked up from the ground since she had stood, and it didn't seem as though she was planning on it either.
Harry looked to Mia sadly, and it seemed as though she had been thinking something over, when suddenly, Mia began to walk slowly towards the entrance of the alley. One side of Harry's lips upturned slightly at this as he followed her. She seemed to be giving in slightly. Perhaps she was thinking over taking up his offer of his helping her get through her pain, but simultaneously, she seemed hesitant of trusting him. Perhaps it seemed to her as being too good to be true, or perhaps she had trouble when it came to trusting people in general. Harry could only guess.
Mia continued to walk, as Harry followed closely behind, the road which they were walking upon seeming very familiar, for he had jogged in the opposite direction along this very same road when the dog, which was now walking alongside him, led him to the alley in which Mia sat. To Harry's surprise, Mia had now led them to the very farmhouse which he had turned up outside of when he had passed through the stone wall into the past. This was also the very farmhouse that he had been inside of when the dog had pushed him through the fireplace.
Harry stared wide eyed at the way in which the inside of the house seemed so new and almost comforting, unlike the way it had been when he had wandered into it following his departure from the Dursleys'.
Once they had entered, Mia immediately made her way over to a pile of blankets near the corner of the farmhouse and sat down, cross-legged, upon them. Harry looked to her, furrowing his brows slightly, as he frowned.
"This is where you sleep?" Harry asked her, hoping that perhaps, it wasn't, though it quite obviously was.
Mia continued to avert her eyes as she nodded in the affirmative.
"What are clothes? Don't you have something dry to change into?" Harry questioned, hopefully.
Mia nodded once again.
This confused Harry greatly, for he did not see any other clothes in this farmhouse besides for the ones that she was currently wearing, and despite her now being out of the rain, she would still catch cold if she did not change into something warm.
"Where are your clean clothes?" Harry asked her.
"With Mr. Wheeler," Mia whispered, fingering the hem of her skirt, as she sat.
"Who is Mr. Wheeler? Where can I find him?" Harry spoke quietly.
"He adopted me," Mia explained, her voice now lower than the whisper she had been speaking in earlier, "His daughter, Alison, she f-found me," her eyes filling with fresh tears, seemingly for a reason separate from that of which had caused her to cry only minutes ago.
Harry was unsure of what Mia meant when she had said that Alison found her, but he was reluctant to ask, for speaking about it clearly upset Mia greatly. Harry hoped she would proceed to tell him where this Mr. Wheeler could be found and why she did not stay at his home, but to Harry's disappointment, she simply remained silent. Harry debated with himself for a moment regarding whether he should ask or not, and decided that he should, for if he did not learn where he could find Mr. Wheeler, Mia would most likely, not have dry clothes to sleep in.
"Why is it that you sleep here and not in Mr. Wheeler's home?" Harry asked cautiously.
"I never go inside," Mia answered, not proceeding to explain herself. Harry once again decided it was best not to ask just yet.
"Where is his home?" Harry said.
Mia looked thoughtful, as though she was deciphering whether Harry could be informed of the located to Mr. Wheeler's home. Harry waited for a few moments and once he had just begun readying himself to give, or to ask another question, Mia began to speak.
"Across the road," she said. This had been the first time since Harry had first seen Mia that she had not whispered when speaking.
"Will you come along with me? I'm sure that Mr. Wheeler would like to see that you are safe," Harry stated, his voice once again hopeful.
"I suppose so," Mia said thoughtfully, her voice quieter than it was last, though remaining above a whisper.
Harry's lips betrayed a half smile at the thought that she was willing to speak with him properly, and that she would be accompanying him in seeing this Mr. Wheeler that she had been speaking of.
Mia stood slowly once again, and Harry's thoughts returned to when she had stood in the alley, though she now looked far more comfortable, as she was out of the rain, though it was still not much warmer. Harry now found himself wishing that he were able to grab his cloak when he had left the Dursleys, if not for him to wear, then for Mia, if she would have accepted it.
Mia made her way back across the room, to where Harry was still standing, for he had not made his way far into the farmhouse. She then proceeded to exit the farmhouse, Harry once again following close behind her. Mia then walked across the road and stopped in front of a house far larger than the farmhouse they had just been in, though it was not considered as being large, at least by Harry's standards, after having spent the majority of his past five years in Hogwarts' castle.
Mia stopped before the door, and stood rooted to the spot, as Harry came up beside her. He knocked on the door cautiously, knowing that it was becoming very late, but simultaneously, knowing that Mr. Wheeler would want to know that Mia was safe, especially seeing that Mia had agreed.
Harry stepped to the side slightly, so that when the door was opened, the first person they would see was Mia.
A gentle looking man, looking as though he was nearing his forties answered the door. He looked to only be a bit taller than Harry, and had dark hair, which was graying in the slightest, and light blue-gray eyes, which seemed to bore into ones soul. Once he had gotten a proper look as to who was waiting before the door, a bright relieved smile crossed his face, and he stepped outside, seemingly uncaring as to whether he would become wet as a result of the rain, or not. The man laid a comforting hand on Mia's shoulder, looking to her happily.
"Oh Mia, thank God that you are home! I didn't know what to think. You have never gone away for so long and stayed out in the rain! I was so very worried!" the man spoke, wrapping Mia in a warm hug, which she halfheartedly returned.
"I'm sorry to have worried you, Mr. Wheeler," she whispered softly.
"It's all right Mia, as long as you are okay," he stated, his voice trembling slightly, seemingly at the thought of what could have happened to Mia if she had not returned home.
Mr. Wheeler than released Mia from his embrace, away from her from the first time since he had opened the door. His eyes momentarily landed on Harry, as he stared at him questioningly.
"Hello," Mr. Wheeler said, his voice holding the question that his eyes had been expressing only seconds ago.
"Hello," Harry replied, waiting for Mr. Wheeler to finish sizing him up before he would consider saying anything else. Mr. Wheeler took a second longer as he took in Harry's bruised eye and nose. At first, Harry had thought that Mr. Wheeler had been looking at his scar, but realized that chances were that it was currently being covered by his bangs, seeing as his hair was lying flatter than usual of a result of it being wet.
"Are you the one who has brought my Mia home?" Mr. Wheeler asked Harry, seemingly coming to this conclusion, for, even Harry had to admit, there would be no other reason he could think of as to why he would be standing here by Sam's doorway with Mia beside him.
"Yes, sir. My name is Harry. I'd found her sitting in the alley nearby and insisted that I take her home, for I feared she would become ill as a result of the rain, sir," Harry explained.
"Oh, thank you, my boy! I am Sam… You may call me Sam. I will be forever grateful to you, son! I thank you from the bottom of my heart!" Sam exclaimed, thanking Harry profusely, as he held out his hand for Harry to shake, which Harry momentarily accepted, without a second thought, a small smile gracing his lips.
"It was not a problem, sir– I mean, Sam," Harry corrected himself as Sam glared slightly, the smile never leaving Sam's face.
Harry looked to Mia for a moment, and saw that she was once again staring at the ground, seemingly not paying much attention to the exchange between Harry and Sam.
"Why is it that she does not want to go inside?" Harry said, leaning closer to Sam, as he lowered his voice in hopes that Mia would not overhear them talking about her.
"I'm sorry, Harry, but I don't feel that it is my place to say, for I do not know the full story. It would be best to ask my daughter, Alison, though she is not here now. Mia herself would be able to tell you most accurately, though I am not sure that she would," Sam explained, keeping his voice just as low.
Harry nodded in agreement.
"I came here now in hope of getting her some dry clothes, for I thought it best if she didn't sleep in the clothes that she is wearing now. Could you bring her some, maybe? Or could you tell me where they are?" Harry offered, thinking that perhaps asking for Sam to bring her the clothes would be asking of too much him, especially at that time of night.
"Of course, my boy. They are upstairs, in the chest before the bed on the left. You should be able to find anything Mia would need in there," Sam told him.
"Thank you, sir," Harry said, as he made his way inside the house and up the stairs to his immediate right. Harry then came to a medium sized room, which seemed to be all that was upstairs. There were two beds towards the middle of the room, and only one window at the far right, with what seemed like moth-eaten curtains covering it. Harry quickly found the chest that Sam had been telling him about, and opened it. Looking through it, Harry found a pair of warm pants, and a sweater. He then momentarily wondered if she would need anything else, which by common sense, he knew she would, but he knew it wasn't his place, though he also knew that if he didn't get the remainder of her clothing, no one else was going to either.
'Oh, bloody hell!' Harry's mind screamed, 'What have I gotten myself into?' At that, Harry groaned audibly.
Harry stood rooted to the spot for several minutes, his brows furrowed, as he pondered what he should do. At the moment when Harry had just begun to ready himself to continue searching for Mia's clothing, he heard hurried footsteps making their way up the stairs, seemingly much to Sam's surprise, who was heard yelling Mia's name from the bottom of the staircase as she ran. Clearly, she had realized just what Harry had realized moments ago, and had taken it upon herself to make sure that he did not have the opportunity to come in contact with anything she would not want him to see. Seemingly, Mia had decided that due to the situation, she could spare coming inside the house, though the first glimpse Harry had gotten of Mia when she burst into the room showed him that she would have rather been anywhere but there, for she had tears streaming down her cheeks once again.
"Mia, why are you here?" Harry asked her worriedly, though slightly relieved at the same time that he would not have to take it upon himself to bring her the rest of the clothing she would need.
Wordlessly, Mia hastily grabbed the pants and sweater that Harry was holding and ran over to another chest, digging within it momentarily, and seemingly finding what she had needed, grabbed the clothing, covering it with the pants and sweater in her arms and began to run down the stairs as quickly as her legs could carry her, nearly tripping over her own feet, though managing to make it to the ground floor safely enough.
Harry followed her quickly, hoping that he would be able to find some way to calm her slightly. Once Harry reached the bottom of the stairs, he found Mia standing before the front door, still on the inside of the house. She seemed to be wondering how she would be able to make it to the farmhouse across the road without getting her clean clothes soaked by the rain.
Harry stood beside her for a moment, noticing that when he walked up next to her, she turned her head in the opposite direction slightly. Harry could hear her sobbing, and noticed that she was visibly shaking as a result of the fear she felt.
"C'mon Mia, if you run quickly you can make it to the other side of the road without getting the clothes too wet," Harry explained, speaking quickly, as he reached out for her hand in hopes that she would take it.
Mia glanced at his hand momentarily, seeming a bit apprehensive, just as she had when they had been leaving the alley, though this time she grabbed his hand roughly, almost as though she wanted to get it over with. She then stepped out into the rain, followed my Harry, who began to run for he was beginning to feel the effects of the rain once more. Mia followed quickly, seemingly without a second thought, for she too, wanted to make it back in the farmhouse. They made it across the road quickly enough, and Mia's fresh clothes, although they had gotten a bit damp, they were still completely dry on the inside.
As Harry held her hand, he felt that Mia continued to shake violently, due to the fear she had felt from having been inside the house, and though Harry still was unable to understand why, he once again knew that it was not the time to ask. As they entered the farmhouse, Harry felt Sam's gaze watching them from behind, and as he turned slightly to look at him before entering the farmhouse, Harry saw Sam grin at him weakly, gratitude written all over his face. Harry turned back to Mia quickly, and holding onto her hand tightly, led her inside.
Once inside, Mia roughly pulled her hand away from Harry's, not waiting for him to let go on his own, before she stormed over to the blankets in the corner, dropping her fresh clothes on top of them, and sitting down next to them, frowning. Then, much to Harry's surprise, tears began to fall from her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. Harry could not understand her. No matter how hard he tried, he could not for the life of him, even begin to imagine what had caused Mia to feel this way. On one hand, he could understand what it felt like being lost and feeling unloved and abused, but Mia had Sam and his daughter, Alison, to help her along, and they clearly supported her, but that must not have enough for Mia to help her through whatever it was that making her so upset. She was clearly unable to escape the depression that she had buried herself in prior to when Sam had adopted her – whenever this had been. Harry now knew that whatever she was feeling must have been caused by something more than her parents' death, even if perhaps it was linked to it; there was something more to it that was causing her these feelings.
"Mia," Harry whispered soothingly, "What's wrong?" he was unable to restrain himself from asking, as he moved to her and knelt before her once more, as she sat on the pile of blankets. His question almost seemed rhetorical, for it looked to be as though, to Mia, at that moment, everything was wrong. Harry could see that she was still shaking and shivering, seemingly partly from the cold, and partly from fear. Perhaps she was crying because she had been forced to go into the house, despite her desperate desire not to. Though, it wasn't as if she had to, Harry could have handled it himself. Harry knew that the selfish part of him had preferred that she had come upstairs, for she had saved them both a fair amount of embarrassment, but the noble and selfless part of him, which was significantly larger, preferred the embarrassment over having Mia be so fearful.
Harry watched Mia carefully, just as he had when they had sat in the alley, as a feeling of déjà vu overcame him, for they had been seated just like this not too long of a time ago. Mia remained silent for a long moment.
"I was so afraid," she whispered, her voice hardly audible. Harry was unsure whether, when she said that, she had been talking about what happened in the past few minutes, or if she had been talking about what had happened years ago to make her afraid in the first place. Harry then came to the conclusion that she was speaking of a mixture of both.
"Why?" Harry croaked, "Why were you scared?" he asked, his voice continuing to sound soothing, though this time he was slightly hopeful, for perhaps now she would tell him something he wished to know.
"I-I didn't know what to do," Mia answered after many silent moments that seemed to drag on forever. Harry was once again unsure of whether she was speaking about what had happened minutes ago or years ago.
Harry decided that it would be best to leave it at that, for his questions would not help to calm her, and she still had not changed into her dry clothing.
After another agonizing moment of silence, Mia began to whimper loudly, and then proceeded to beat her fists against the walls uncontrollably. This took Harry by surprise, for only a moment ago, although still sobbing and crying, she had been as calm as ever. Mia was clearly near breaking down, and she needed help. Harry did not know what to do, and as he watched her, Mia became more distressed. She then stood, and facing the wall, she leaned her forehead against it momentarily, before proceeding to continue to bang her fists against it. Her entire body racked with sobs, and she now began to grunt in frustration each time she slammed her fists against the walls. Harry stood up, and hardly knowing if what he was doing was right, he took hold of her right arm, which was the one that she was now readying to slam into the wall once again. He then pulled her to him, fighting against her as she attempted to thrust her arms and legs at him. Harry was far stronger than her and was fairly easily able to keep control of her, as he wrapped his right arm securely around her waist, still holding onto her arm with his left. Mia continuously attempted to free herself of him, though to no avail, as sobs continued to wrack her body, hot tears making their way down her cheeks.
"Mia, calm down!" Harry exclaimed. His voice held no anger, only the desperation that came with hoping for her to, in fact, calm down.
"It's all my fault!" Mia yelled, "I could have helped them! I didn't try hard enough!" she continued, banging her left fist into his chest.
Harry knew not of what she was speaking, but he knew her feeling all too well, and was near positive that, whatever it was she was speaking of, couldn't have been helped.
"Mia, it's isn't your fault!" Harry paused for a brief moment before continuing, his voice much quieter, "I-I know how it feels, thinking that you could have helped, or that if you had done something a bit different everything would have turned out all right. B-but you can't blame yourself for it, t-there isn't anything… y-you could have done," Harry ended in a whisper, as opposed to the desperation his voice had taken on when he first began speaking. He was beginning to feel that he was a bit stupid now, for he had only just realized that he, himself, was unable to do anything to save Sirius with the knowledge that he had had.
"It was my fault… if I'd have, m-maybe, I could have…" Mia whispered, pausing, as she looked thoughtful. Her sobs had not ceased, the trail of hot tears on her cheeks never ending. She almost seemed to be trying to convince herself that it was, in fact, her fault. She sighed deeply, shuddering as she exhaled, perhaps a mixture of the cold, and her sobs reverberating throughout her body. They did not speak for several moments, as Mia continued to cry, every once in a while, beating the side of her left fist against Harry's chest, and attempting to release her right arm from his grip, to which he finally complied, and immediately regretted, for she began to slam her right fist into his shoulder, causing Harry to wince slightly. Harry chalked it up to her frustration, knowing all too well what the need to hit something, anything, felt like. Harry recalled that, normally, that need, was accompanied by a need to yell profanities for the world to hear, though he hoped Mia would hold back on that one, for, since his chest was already sore, he did not wish for his eardrums to burst as well, let alone at all, for that matter.
"Mia," Harry murmured, watching her carefully. Hearing her name sound from his lips caused her to furrow her brows, as she let her forehead fall to rest on his shoulder, seemingly in exhaustion and defeat, her fists finally ceasing their beating on his chest, as her hands grasped his shoulders.
'I suppose it'll bruise,' Harry thought gravely in regards to his chest, though quickly returning his attention to Mia, who had closed her eyes, her tears now silent, though her breathing had not yet returned to normal. By now, she had dropped her hands to Harry's back, where she clutched onto his shirt so roughly that her knuckles had turned white.
Since Mia had started crying, this had been the first time that Harry became aware of their close proximity to one another, which unnerved him slightly, for he wasn't sure that she had realized it just yet, and perhaps when she did, it would only make things worse. Another factor that Harry chalked up his anxiety to, was that he could never recall being quite this close to a girl before, save Cho Chang, who had been crying as well, when she kissed him. Though Harry realized quickly that that was not in any way similar to the situation he was now in with Mia, because he hadn't had his arms wrapped around Cho, and simultaneously, Cho's reason for continuous crying, though, Harry had to admit, not completely silly, was not something he wanted to recall, especially since she had been crying over her dead boyfriend, who Harry had watched being murdered, and she was now kissing Harry. Mia's crying, unlike Cho's, was completely justified, and although Harry was unable to decipher Mia's exact reason for crying, for he did not know much about her as of yet, he still knew that she had many pent up emotions that she had previously been unable to release, for she had never felt comfortable enough to do so. This thought brought on another question within Harry's mind. Did she feel more comfortable crying before him than she had before anyone else, or was she simply breaking down now, because he had lead her into it by questioning her and insisting on helping her? Harry was not sure he would ever discover the true answer to that question, and he was not sure that he necessary cared as to what the answer was, but it still gave him something to think about as they stood in silence, the only sounds heard being that of the rain outside, pitter-pattering on the ground and the roof of the farmhouse, as well as Mia's soft breaths, as she attempted to cease her crying, which seemed to come up as being more difficult than she originally thought it ought to be.
Moments later, Mia had gained control over her emotions, and the second she did, she released the death grip she had had on Harry's shirt, lifting her head from his shoulder, as she leaned back, seemingly waiting for him to release her waste, though it was obvious she did not want to say so. Harry obliged once he had given her a once over and was near positive that she wasn't going to reacquaint her fists with neither the wall nor his chest the moment that he let go.
"You should change," Harry said quietly as a result of lack of anything better to say, as well as it being the truth, for she clearly still feeling the effects of the cold, and the soaked clothing she was wearing wasn't helping any.
Mia nodded slowly in response, though not making a move to do anything at all.
"I'll… erm… I suppose I'll be outside," Harry told her, and without waiting for a response, he exited the farmhouse, stepping into the rain.
Harry leaned against the stone wall on the outside of the farmhouse by the entrance, as he waited for some sort of sign as to what he should do next. He stood in silence for a moment, and was relieved to hear a slight shuffling of fabric inside, most likely meaning that Mia took him seriously when he suggested that she should change into dry clothing.
A few moments later, much to Harry's surprise, Sam exited his own house across the road, standing by the doorway, and once Harry had made eye contact with him, he began motioning for Harry to come and speak to him. Without hesitation, Harry made his way across the road, stopping before Sam, his eyebrow raised slightly in question. Sam just smiled.
"Is there something you need, sir- erm, Sam?" Harry corrected himself for the second time that night. Sam's smile grew slightly.
"I was going to suggest to you, Harry, that since you've been of so much assistance to Mia and I, that perhaps, it would be more accommodating to you if you were to spend the night with us," Sam offered. Harry furrowed his brows slightly at this.
"Well, I don't want to be any trouble…" Harry began explaining, though was interrupted by Sam before he had the opportunity to continue on.
"Nonsense, son! It's no trouble at all! Especially seeing as you've helped us out," Sam insisted, "And I'm sure it would be quite the inconvenience for you if you were to have to walk home in this rain, and at this time of night, no less," he continued.
"Well, if you're sure," Harry told him. Harry knew that Sam's offer would definitely be of assistance to him, for he truly did not have anywhere to stay that night, and he was not planning on leaving so soon, not when he had only just met Mia, and was so eager to learn more about her. Besides, even if he were to go back to his own time, there would be nowhere he wanted to go. He was definitely not going to back to the Dursleys, especially after the way Vernon had treated him, being one of the substantial reasons of his departure to start with.
"Of course, son," Sam assured him.
"Thank you very much si-Sam," Harry smiled. Sam shook his head slightly in amusement due to Harry continuous attempt at calling him 'sir'.
"My pleasure, Harry. My pleasure," Sam replied.
"Erm, well I suppose I should tell Mia… I mean, I don't want her to be wondering where I've gone off to, I told her I'd be waiting outside," Harry explained, earning a nod from Sam, who retreated back into the house, leaving the door open a crack, as Harry retraced his steps across the road, returning to the farmhouse. Harry stopped before looking into the door, and wanting to be sure that Mia had finished changing, he knocked lightly on the doorpost.
"Come in," came Mia's soft, whispered voice from inside, followed by a barely audible sniff. Harry stepped inside cautiously, to see that Mia was now seated in the corner, wearing her dry clothing, and wrapped in blankets. She had a few tears trailing down her cheeks, though there was no other sign of her having cried. Harry frowned slightly as he watched her lean against the wall, pulling the blankets tighter around her. He walked towards her carefully, but seeing that she did not make any sort of objection to his coming closer, he closed the distance between them, kneeling down beside her, and watching her carefully.
Slowly but surely, Harry reached up brushing his fingers over her cheeks lightly to wipe away her tears. This caused Mia's eyes to close of their own accord, as she inhaled sharply.
"Mia, I just wanted to let you know that Sam has let me stay in the house for the night, so, I suppose, if you need me or anything of the sort, you'll know where I am," Harry told her.
Mia nodded slightly in understanding.
"Well, goodnight," Harry whispered, brushing his fingers over her cheek one last time before standing up, and leaving the farmhouse, not looking back for fear that if he did, he would be unable to leave Mia there on her own, but he did not want to make her uncomfortable, and that thought made to alleviate the pain, as he continued to walk.
Once he made it to Sam's house, he closed the door behind him only to find Sam standing patiently beside the staircase, seemingly waiting for him to return. Sam explained that Harry would be sleeping upstairs, in the room he had been in earlier, and that he had prepared a change of clothes for Harry, for he was wet from the rain, as well. Harry wondered for a moment why Sam would have extra clothing lying around, seeing as he was the only male that lived in the house, but Harry thought it out of place to ask, so he simply accepted them with gratitude, thanking Sam, as he made his way upstairs, changed into the clean clothes, and laid down on the bed to the right of the room. Harry lay awake part of the night, gazing unblinkingly at the ceiling, until his eyelids became heavy and he finally fell into slumber.