She has always been intrigued by that time of the day, the dawn. Her Nanna would always wake up as the very first rays of the sun announced the beginning of the new day in the sky. She'd ask her, why would she wake up that early, and her Nanna's answer would never change "to witness the joy of new beginnings".
Her Nanna didn't witness this sun rise however, and she will never witness anymore, for she left. She left her alone to taste the bitter taste of endings, the bitter taste that no matter how much she tasted she couldn't ever get used to.
Nada sat on the low stone wall on the edge of the roof, her night gown fluttering with the soft breeze, her socks clad feet dangling lazily. She sat there, wondering what it would feel like, to let the edge go and fall, or fly.
She pulled the her sweatshirt tightly around her body, as the wind has blown a little more violently, as if it was trying to knock some sense into her.
She felt someone's presence behind her, but she didn't have the energy to move to acknowledge it.
"Too early in the day to need to hide," she felt him sitting beside her, Harry.
She looked at him for a moment, not finding her voice to speak "never too early," she managed to say.
Harry was secretly relieved when he found out that the roof was not empty, although he knew that this meant that she wasn't feeling good either, but somehow sharing his misery with someone made him feel better, even if that meant that both of them will spend hours in silence. When she turned and looked at him however, he felt something twisting in his stomach. The girl who sat dangerously on the edge of the roof wasn't the same girl who sat many hours ago on his bed eating a banana in three bites. She wasn't even the angry rebellious girl who sat in a silk dress, in a play park, smoking a cigarette, just to make a point.
The girl that looked at him was the ghost that only passed Nada's face sometimes. Somehow it seemed like the ghost has possessed her completely, diming her bright wide hazel eyes, stealing the peachy tinge she had on her cheeks, and turning her tanned skin to an ashen color. Although her eyes were not puffy or even red-rimmed, although she wasn't a mushy goo of tears, although her voice didn't break when she talked to him, he knew that something terribly wrong has happened.
He didn't dare to ask her if she was alright. So he opted silence.
"Too early in the day to need to hide" she finally said using his own question against him, still gazing to the distance.
He was about to reply when he noticed the medical tape that covered the back of her left hand. She noticed where his eyes had averted, for she quickly covered her hand with her sleeve.
"What happened?" he asked calmly, but sternly.
She didn't answer, and didn't react when he held her hand gently and moved her sleeve backwards revealing the cannula tape. She didn't react either when he traced the tape with his fingers and then her cold knuckles and the tips of her fingers. She closed her eyes briefly however when he took her hand between his slightly bigger palms, reveling in the warmth they have created.
"Nada, please?" he was half frustrated, and half scared.
"I fainted earlier," she said in a foreign voice "That—that is where they put the medicine, you see- to.." she trailed of, then she just fell silent in fear that her voice would betray her.
Harry felt suddenly cold "what happened Nada," he pressed "Did your father- was he angry that you disappeared all day?"
In another day, the statement would have made her laugh. Of course her father would be angry if he knew that she spent all the day out, that is if he knew, or more of if remembered to ask her how she spent her day. He doesn't know that she doesn't spend her time with the people he hand-picked for her the moment they arrived to this foreign land. He doesn't know that she doesn't eat the carefully scheduled meals that he sends daily in a bullet proofed car. He doesn't know that she spends time with her ridiculously expensive camera more than she spends time with human beings. He doesn't know that she left her warm bed and walked out of the front door in her night clothes to sit on a roof because she seriously couldn't breathe. He doesn't know that he literally suffocates her, that she is seriously afraid that one day she would die because she can't breathe.
He doesn't know that there's a great possibility that she survived all these years only because she was with her. Was, her beautiful Nanna became a was, a shadow in the past.
"No, he was sort of distracted" she said finally, dangling her legs off the edge, still feeling tempted "what brought you up here this early?" she tried to distract him, the movement of her legs getting faster "I know how awful they can get, but that early in the morning- really" and faster "I bet your aunt has strangled the Marge woman, a win-win situation mind you-" she forced a laugh, a hallow horrible sound, her legs still moving unnaturally fast." You see, one goes to prison and one straight to hell- I wonder if they.."
"STOP IT!" Harry shouted, resting both his hands on her knees to stop her legs, not caring about the inappropriate touch. "Stop it" he said again, with a lower but stern voice, looking straight in to her eyes despite the awkward angel. What he saw there though, sent a sharp pain in his heart.
She stopped, panting, turning her legs to the other side of the wall re-introducing them with solid ground and for what seemed like an entire eternity she looked straight back to him. One deep breath, and another, and another, and the dam has broken. She didn't make a sound whilst the tears had turned her vision white.
Harry did something he never thought that he was capable of doing before; for a long time he didn't even know that he was allowed to do it, he initiated a hug. His instincts prevailed as he wrapped his arms around the frail shaking body. It felt odd, holding that bony frame and feeling its misery seeping to his own body, as if it is his, feeling his own misery seeping out of his body, as if it never belonged there. And between the wave and the tide, he felt that all the injustice and the melancholy of the world can somehow be justified if it caused bodies to melt together in such a manner. Like the fire can burn and give warmth, like the seas can drown and quench thirst, sadness was the disease and the healer. It didn't make any sense, yet it made all the sense in the world.
Somehow they both ended up sitting on the dirty floor, resting their backs on the wall, tangled in one another.
"She died," two words, just two words but they clawed her insides on their way out of her mouth "Nanna, my grandmother died".
In his short life, Harry has witnessed death in its most brutal, raw, intimate forms. He has witnessed last breaths, shocked, and still bodies. He has witnessed wails of loved ones, silent grief, and the melancholy that settles down together with the battle dust which gets stomped on as life goes on, brutally and mercifully at the same time.
He has witnessed death too many times that he thought that he grew numb to it, until her tears stung the still open wounds.
"I am sorry," he only managed to say "I-I am so sorry Nada".
He felt her nod against his shoulder, and they sat in long silence.
"I couldn't even say goodbye, properly" she said with a distant voice "I just wish that I could've seen her for a last time"
He sat straighter, but didn't say anything in fear that he'd interrupt her.
"I can't even go to her funeral," she continued "couldn't, by now I guess" she fell silent for a moment then continued with more anger than sadness in her voice "Oh but he sent an official someone to do official shite and sent official flowers with official flags and a bullet proof car to make everything look official and amazing!"
She stood up abruptly and shouted to the distance "A BULLET PROOF CAR!- SHE'S DEAD! FOR GOD'S SAKE!"
Harry stood up quickly and enveloped her in his embrace. He wished he could say anything that would make her feel better, but he knew first hand that nothing he could say would fix this. This, was one of the many things in life that were not meant to be fixed.
Eventually, her grip has loosened from the back of his shirt, an expression of shame has conquered that of sadness on her face.
"Sorry," she whispered, eyeing the wet spots on his shirt and not meeting his eyes "I- didn't.."
"It's fine" he said quickly.
She took a deep breath then sat on the same spot on the edge of the roof, he did the same.
They both sat in silence, only disturbed by Nada's occasional ragged intakes of breath until Harry spoke again, his voice bare and vulnerable "My Godfather died a couple of months ago," he said causing the dull stinging that her loss has caused to throb more painfully "I-I couldn't say good bye either, I couldn't say a lot of things actually" the throbbing has grew stronger " I remember being in a lot of pain- I was so angry, so so angry- and so alone. Everybody was sorry, everybody would shake their heads and purse their lips and pat me on the back, but no one felt the pain that I felt" the throbbing turned into a stinging in the corner of his eyes " I have always been alone, it is how I knew life for as long as I can remember. But- but when he died, I felt lonely, and cold and naked and weak and lost- I felt like I was drowning seeing all the familiar faces from beneath the water. All shaking their heads and pursing their lips" he took a shuddering breath and then continued with more composure "I know how it feels, and you have every right to be angry".
She sat still for a moment, her eyes fixed in to his. Somehow both anchored each other. Then she leaned on him, and he wordlessly supported her.
The sun has risen completely, sending privet drive in a warm yellow glow, reflecting over the rooftops and on the spotless parked cars. Birds were chirping joyfully, the air vibrating with the morning sounds that were really audible if one would really listen. A laugh between two early joggers, a baby crying as his father left for work, a dog barking as it dragged a giggling old lady along. The sounds of life, as it went on.
"Will we ever heal Harry?" she asked, her voice if anything, curious.
"Not without scars," he said honestly "but I reckon that we ought to live with those scars, because they are a sign that- that we fought" he smiled a little, that smile of his, like one would smile for a child " they are part of who we are, but we are more than the scars we carry, right?"
She smiled, remembering her own words "right".
He rubbed the scar on his forehead subconsciously, hoping beyond hope that they were indeed right.
"Dear Harry,
If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven p.m. to escort you to The Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays. That is, after we take of a rather pressing matter that came to my attention in Privet Drive. If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to The Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you. Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,
I am, yours most sincerely
Albus Dumbledore"
Harry finally succumbed to unconsciousness after his need to sleep won the battle over the furious tornado of questions that swirled in his head. He lied fully clothed, over the covers with a piece of parchment in his now limp hand. The last thought that lingered in his mind before he went to blissful darkness, that he can hope, but he will get what life throws at him anyway.
AN/ Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews for the previous chapter. I am really glad that you liked it.
I have created a tumblr for the story, so if you have any questions, comments or if you just want to discuss any of the ideas or themes that were mentioned in the story, you can drop me a line : thegharibianfics