I ran through the mess and up to my room, the room on the first floor landing, the room that had been mine since I could remember. It held my photographs, books, old toys, treasured trinkets. And when I got there I immediately sank down to my knees, grasping at the shreds of ripped photos and broken memories. The only copy of Witch Weekly I had saved, the one that had an article about me and Harry dating in his 6th year, was in shreds. My jewelry box my mum gave me, burned from the looks of it. The only thing that was not tampered with was a photo lying in the middle of the room, I moved closer to see that it was a picture my dad had taken of Fred and I, at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. I began to cry, sitting on the floor, in the middle of my destroyed room, holding a picture of me and my dead brother. I looked up at the door to make sure nobody had followed me up there, and then I shut it. I spent the rest of the day looking and crying over ripped photos and broken objects. I didn’t go down to dinner. I didn’t talk to anyone. I just kept looking at that picture of Fred and I, Fred in a tux, and myself in a pale gold dress. We looked so happy, we were laughing. That, I remembered, was the night that Harry, Ron and Hermione left, the night I cried myself to sleep.
“Hey,” I heard a voice through the door at around 6 o’clock. I turned around to look at the old door and all the chips in it’s white coat of paint.
“Hey,” I said back to the door, wiping the tear streaks from my blotchy, red face.
“Can I come in?”
“Yeah,” I said back. Harry opened the door and stepped through.
“Merlin, your room really got the worst of it,” he said sadly.
“They must have known.”
“Known what?” he asked.
“They must of known about us, probably thought I was communicating with you or I knew where you were,” I explained. An expression of pure guilt ran across his face.
“This is all my fault! If I didn’t kiss you, if I didn’t go out with you, you would have your room and your things,” he said gesturing around to all the mess. I shook my head.
“I would rather you kiss me than have all my things, Harry, and nothing is your fault. My brother went with you, our house would have been raided even if I didn’t go out with you,” I tried to smile, but it just looked like I was nauseous or something.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you,” I told him back.
Harry sat down on the floor with me and held me until we got so tired, we couldn’t keep our eyes open. So then, he picked me up like a baby, and carried to my bed (after dusting it off) where we both lied down, his arms around my waist, my head in his chest, and went to sleep.
The next morning we woke up early and went downstairs to have some tea, only to find Ron and Hermione snuggled up on the couch.
“Took them long enough,” we both whispered at the same time, and laughed on our way back up the stairs, our hands warmed by mugs filled with sweet, milky tea. I felt so good to laugh, so good to hear others laugh. The warm feeling of knowing you can laugh with someone. It really makes all the difference. Especially when that someone, is someone you can share all your insecurities too, and snog, all over a cup of tea in your trashed room. Things were looking up, there was light at the end of a dark tunnel, and the light was far off, but I knew, it was there.
Did you enjoy my story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks, FunSizedGeekWrite a Review