Ever After || Harry & Hermione

Chapter 1.2

It's not quite the pumpkin carriage he imagined, but as he boards the Hogwarts Express, he thinks with satisfaction that it will do just as well.

Hogwarts is unlike anything he could have imagined. It is full to the brim with life and magic, welcoming Harry into its arms like a mother welcoming its child home. Harry throws himself into studying this new world and arming himself with knowledge. With hope.

The more he knows, the more information he seeks, the more he can convince himself that this is real. He has had too many dreams like this, but for once he wants to believe. He doesn't want to return to reality.

At one point, he remembers that Cinderella met her Prince Charming at the ball.

"Sorry, Cinders," he chuckles to himself as he sits in the corner of the library, finishing his Transfiguration homework. "But I always thought that a prince saving the day was too unrealistic. In this world, the only thing you can rely on is your own hard work."

"What was that, Harry?" Hermione frowns from the seat across him.

"Nothing."

To his right, Ron continues to snore.

That's right, who needs a sodding prince? He has friends now—real friends!—and he wouldn't trade them for anything.

                                                                                            _____

The excitement of this new world lulls Harry into a false sense of security and he forgets one crucial detail.

The spell wears off at midnight.

For him, midnight is the day he returns to Platform 9 ¾, when he goes back to the Dursleys. When his trunk and all the wizarding robes in them are taken away with a disdainful sniff from Aunt Petunia. When he returns to his oversized rags. When he is once again Harry Potter, the Unwanted. Harry Potter, the Helpless.

And he has never hated himself as much as he does in that moment.

Another day spent doing his assigned chores and having Uncle Vernon scream at him for an hour (accusing him of having learned to be 'rebellious at that freak school' for no good reason besides how unruly his hair is), leaves Harry exhausted.

He lies on the bed and remembers the first time he imagined he was Cinders. He has his own room now and is no longer the boy in the cupboard under the stairs, but everything is still the same.

A few days later, the Dobby debacle happens. His room is locked, and bars are placed on his windows. He spoke too soon about things being the same; he forgot that things can always get worse.

"Sorry I mocked you for relying on that prince of yours, Cinders," Harry talks to the empty room, wondering if he'll lose his mind one day from the loneliness. "Maybe I was just jealous. Maybe I wished someone would come to save me too."

He can feel his eyes turn misty and hurriedly pinches his hand so hard the skin breaks. He pinches it until he can't remember why he was sad anymore and focuses on the pain. The pain means that he is still living and breathing, and that's a good thing, right?

It has to be.