"It was my uncle," he blurted out "you asked if someone did, it was my uncle"
She didn't move, she almost held her breath, she almost didn't blink, in fear that he'd back off.
"It isn't a frequent incident however," he continued, talking to his feat "usually I am too quick and he's too Lazy- sometimes it is even quite funny" he snorted at that then took a deep breath and continued firmly when he found that she didn't really find it funny "This time, was an accident, it never got that bad," and it was true, in fact that wasn't what was bothering him at all. He was no stranger to pain, to an extent that it truly didn't matter to him anymore.
He has been injured more severely on other several occasions in Hogwarts, either on the Quiditch pitch or on his unlucky encounter with above student level kind of trouble. Death had missed him by inches at times, but he didn't felt as hurt or as alone.
He waited for her to express her shock or to start lecturing him about telling someone or even claiming that she understood, but she didn't say anything, she just sank in sad silence.
"It honestly doesn't bother me," he said trying to lighten the mood a bit.
"I know Harry," she said genuinely "This," she waved a hand towards his head "is not what's bothering you".
And it was true, he knew it was true, and was shocked that she could say it that simply, as if she understands. He gazed at her for a moment studying her, then directed his gaze to the distance, to the houses of privet drive standing identically like soldiers under an ominously dark sky.
"There's that day, when I was seven- or eight," he said with a soft voice, a distant cautious voice that could only belong to a soul being bared, voluntarily.
This time she turned to look at him, he continued gazing in to the distance.
"I missed the school bus, me and my cousin- we went to the same primary school," he sighed and continued "we ran behind the bus trying to catch it, naturally we tripped and fell- hurt our elbows and knees. Duddly started crying, he was never hurt that badly before, and I assume he didn't know the way home, I helped him up and we walked home together- I knew the way home, I usually missed the bus you see," a ghost of a smile passed on his face.
He looked back to his feet, fidgeting with the hem of his jeans,"It was almost as walking home with a friend, he was quite nice to me, and I felt proud that I was in charge and did pretty well, I thought that she'd be proud," he then paused and took a deep breath. " she wasn't of course, she was so angry, but I thought that maybe we scared her, maybe she was just too worried- she kept checking Duddly, checking his elbows and knees and palms, kissing his forehead and cheeks- I thought that maybe it was because Duddly was scared, so I just waited, looking at them" this time he took a shuddering breath "she brought the first-aid kit and tended to his wounds, and I just waited- this time for my turn, I had wounds too, I didn't dare to think that she'd hug me or check me like she did with Duddly, but I was wounded too, and I thought that she'd tend to my wounds, I remember taking a step towards her moving my sleeve upward and looking her in the eyes waiting for her to make a move - she closed the kit and took Duddly to his room".
"I stood there in the middle of the kitchen, alone and bleeding, at that moment I knew that she hates me, and it hurt- and it hurt the same the night I got this" he tilted his head as a gesture "she just looked at me with-with disgust, as she always does, she can't stand even touching me, I literally disgust her,"
"and no matter how much I tried, I still can't hate her" he said finally, firmly.
Nada knew that if she hugged him right now, it will ruin everything, so she just hugged her knees instead.
"That-that's Nobel of you," she managed to say he chuckled lightly at that.
"No, it is not noble of me or anything," he said, with the remainder of laughter in his voice "she took me in her house, sheltered me, fed me and clothed me, she kept me alive for 15 years".
"There is a huge difference Harry, between being kept alive and living- love is what makes us feel alive, what makes us live,"
He looked at her, his brow furrowed as if her words brought some sort of dejavu.
"I can't ask her to love me, this- this will be too much to ask for," he sighed " this is what bothers me the most- that after all this time I still want her to"
"It is only natural Harry, almost instinctive, you share the same blood"
"She is the only connection I have to my mother," he said absent-mindly "I just wish things were different, I wish she'd talk about her more, their childhood maybe, her preferences- anything that indicates that a Lily Evans walked on this earth, any evidence that she was actually here, sometimes I am not even sure that my parents were reall—existed"
"Have you ever asked her?" She asked tentively
He shook his head "No," he said tonelessly "I don't know if you have noticed or not, but we obviously don't exchange sentimentals, especially when she is in the process of aiming a frying pan at me,"
There was that very brief silence, then the both bursted into laughter, the kind of laughter that drains both your energy and dignity, hurts your Stomach and brings tears to your eyes. In another place or time or context, it may have sounded ridiculous- absurd even to laugh at such a simple statement, but they didn't care much.
"Please, please tell me that she didn't actually aim frying pans at you" Nada managed to say finally between her last giggles.
"Ahh, she certainly did" he said, grinning.
"A FRYING PAN? I thought that these stuff happens only in Tom and Jerry!"
No brief silence this time, they both swirled in another spiral of painful laughter, this time their bodies couldn't take it anymore. They lied back turning her shawl to a picnic blanket.
Their laughs gradually dissolved in a comfortable silence, both of them sank deeply in the mesmerizing Velvet sky above.
"That's beautiful," she said softly.
"It is," he whispered.
"I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid," she said a hint of a smile in her voice.
" And what do you want now?"
"I want to be happy," she said almost immediately, he turned his head and looked at her, although he could only see the profile of her face he could still see how her features changed, something sad passed it, she quickly added "well until then, I want to be a professional photographer".
"That's, well, unique" he said then added quickly "in a good way I mean".
"I am pretty good at it, you know" she said with a smirk.
In deed he didn't know how exactly one can be good at taking photos, he didn't want to offend her though so he just nodded reassuringly "I am sure you are".
She finally looked at him, and with half amused half detrimened look on her face said "you don't believe me, do you?"
He stuttered "well- no I do believe you of course".
"Lair!" She said, laughing.
He chuckled too "I mean of course you are good at it- the thing is I don't know exactly how you can't be good at it- everyone takes pictures you know,"
She looked scandalized, but still maintained the humor " I can't believe you just said this," she laughed " I will have to show you someday then".
"Can't wait," he said faking enthusiasm, and not making any effort to make it sound real.
She returned to looking at the stars "so what was your dream job, Mr. extraordinary?"
"I don't remember having one, was quite living the moment" he said with a distant voice. In fact he never thought about it growing up. Before Hogwarts he didn't dare to dream, he knew that at some point his relatives will kick him out and he'd have to be on his own. With no proper education, or any special talent, he knew that people like him end up doing the dishes in some restaurant, and it sounded the only reasonable option given that it was his only field of experience. After he knew that he was a wizard however, he had that glimpse of hope that maybe there'll be a future for him in that world that accepts him. But it is hard to think the same now seeing the great possibility that he won't have a future, in the wizarding world, or in the world in general. He realized with a cold feeling that he was merely surviving, he has always been.
"And what do you want now," Nada's voice mimicking the way he asked the same question has made the merciful intrusion to his thoughts.
"I want to be alive, I want to feel, to go to places, to have a place to call home, to have a family, to get drunk maybe, do foolish things, to look forward for something- I want to be alive". The words left his mouth shamelessly, and it felt as if a burden has been lifted suddenly off his shoulders, making him feel lighter, even physically lighter.
"Someday, you will" she said her voice full of emotion but stern, "Because you of all people deserve it Harry". She held his hand tightly, in an attempt to grant him one wish, to make him feel.
He was about to reply but his breath was caught on his throat however when he felt her tracing with her thumb the scars on the back of his hand. He didn't wait for her to ask. "I can't talk about it" he said simply.
She just nodded and smiled, maybe in shame as if she crossed an invisible line of privacy.
"It isn't that I don't want to, but I truly can't without lying, and- and I don't want to lie to you"
"It has nothing to do with your relatives?" She asked, for the first time a hint of confusion on her face.
"No"
"Harry, you didn't do it yourself? Did you?"
"not on purpose, no, not in the way you think I may," he said catching her hint.
She just looked at him for a moment, and her eyes traveled upwards to his lightning bolt scar, but thankfully she looked away and didn't say anything about it.
She directed her gaze to the stars, still holding his hand.
"It doesn't matter," she said finally "you are more than the scars you carry, they don't define you"
He subconsciously touched the scar on his forehead, she was worlds away, he confirmed to himself, so close but worlds and worlds away.