Death is but the Next Great Adventure

Therapist vs. Therapist

In the Last Chapter: Harry returned to school after Dumbledore published all of Umbridge's victim's testimonies in the daily prophet. A lot of people are angry, some are sad, most don't know what to think. The school seems to be divided by those that think it's all a hoax to target the ministry, and those that know it's true and are out for blood. Hermione starts up a secret student group to protest Fudge's attempts to burry everything and show support to the victims. Harry and Tom are taking a break to get their heads on straight.

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My dearest Harry,

These past few months apart have been nothing short of an eternity. I must say this nearly every letter I send lately, but as always, you seem to be the only thing on my mind. Your words and the promise of our reunion are my only consolation lately. Though I yearn for your company, I know that as a man, I am not ready to face you yet. I may never be fully settled as a person, and I'm sure to still have plenty of learning and growing to do for years to come, but I am coming to know myself better with each passing day. I cannot promise that the man I am becoming will be a great one—or even one you like—but I feel that it would be a far greater crime to lie to you or be disingenuous after everything we've been through. Even if you are the only one.

On another note, I have an interview tomorrow morning at the Ministry. It's for an unremarkable entry-level position in the Department of Finances. However, for reasons beyond my comprehension I find myself . . . nervous. It's absolutely ridiculous and I'm sure if you were here, you'd be laughing at me in that breathy little chuckle you do. I don't know if I've ever felt nervous before, not since I was a boy—if at all. It's queasy and unpleasant, but at the same time there's something a little thrilling about it.

I know your OWL's are right around the corner and I can't help but wonder if you might also be feeling this way. Though, I'm sure you'll have no trouble at all passing your exams with top marks. Knowing you, you'll still put your all into studying. Make sure to drink that lavender clove tea I sent you before bed. Rest is just as important as your studies. I don't know if I will be able to right you again before your exams, so I'll wish you the best of luck in this letter. I know you'll do brilliantly, but even so: good luck, Harry.

Yours forevermore,

Tom

Harry smiled into the spicy-floral vapors of his tea as he sipped the warm brew. Candle light danced over the crisp planes of the letter and his eyes roamed the page again as he absorbed its contents. As always, Harry wanted to commit it to memory along with the countless other letters he'd exchanged with Tom. He'd received the letter at dinner but had only found the time to sit down and read it after his nightly hallway patrols and a bit of studying. By then it was approaching midnight and the soothing effects of the tea was extinguishing his worries one by one. Harry found himself thankful at times like this that his prefect status allowed for him to have his own room in the dorms. He cherished his privacy and the freedom to go to bed as early or late as he pleased. Though, he hadn't been sleeping much as of late. . .

Suddenly, a chill swept through the room and the candle light sputtered out, plunging the room into darkness as a thin tail of smoke curled up from the ember-end of the wick. The hollow rattle of bones clicking together and gentle nudge at his shoulder soon followed.

"Time for bed."

Harry rolled his eyes despite the ominous timbre of whispered death. What perfect timing, pulling him away from the cusp of wretched thoughts.

"Will you ever stop treating me like a child?" Harry whined sulkily, but did as he was told never the less. He slipped between the cool covers of his bed and although he'd already brushed his teeth earlier, he cast a quick cleansing charm on his mouth after his cup of tea.