𝖮 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖮𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 ʰʲᵖ

• ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔈𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫 : 𝔗𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔬𝔯 •

• Chapter Eighteen : Traitor •

[••• ––– •••]

"Because... I thought it was the only piece of you that I could hold."

With a finger clutched on the bottom of his gray shirt, Harry lifted his cloth up, taking it off with his raven hair flopped against his shoulder. He sighed, his mouth moistening and pouting, and threw the shirt into his rack.

Reveling the silence of the dorm, his thoughts continued whirling.

"I thought of it... but I can't."

The corner of his lips went up. He couldn't believe it either not until she said it herself. She said she can't. She couldn't get rid of the necklace he gave her.

"You don't owe me any explanation. It's fine."

His lips tightened, his smile fading. The weird swirls on his stomach failed to bring comfort to him. Instead, they felt extremely agonizing to the point that he saw how the hair on his arms rose.

Did he lose the right to explain to her? To reassure her?

"And I saw you. You looked so happy."

His heartbeat skipped. The swirls officially stopped working inside him and he felt cold and bitter. The weather outside the castle was related to him for a damn bad reason.

He was aware that he was never contented with others. Every time, he was unpleasant and gloomy, but not when he was with (Y/N). He feels, at the very least, that his time spent with the Heather girl gave him a sense of purpose.

For Harry, at least, it was sad to think that (Y/N) may believe he might be content with anyone else.

How could she think that? Couldn't she see how Harry's eyes lit up every time she spared him a glance? Of how Harry's eyes brightened when she was near? Of how Harry could basically produce a real smile with (Y/N) playing around?

Couldn't she see how different Harry was with (Y/N)?

"You looked so happy."

No, he was never happy.

And he hated it.

He hoped and desired (Y/N) could recognize that sooner.

Harry tilted his head to his right, eventually catching sight of a special photo frame, where he hid behind two more photo frames of himself and his family.

He reached out for it, his muscles stretched at the action, before grasping the wooden frame. He pulled it off from the table and placed it down on his lap, staring at the happy faces on the photo itself.

He couldn't believe it was almost a year ago when this photo was taken. The background was a snowy top of Weasley's Burrow. It was taken from below where the scene was completed by two people cuddling on a small balcony of the top room.

The two sixteen-year-olds looked so happy and full of love as they stared at each other — the boy's hand was around the girl's shoulder and the girl's chin was leaning on his arms. The smile on their faces was genuine and tender — it was so real.

Harry stared at the picture, his emotions being so raw that he was unable to express them. He was humiliated to even be in this position where he could only reflect on the past and hold it as though it were his life first and foremost. It was so genuine.

A sigh escaped as well as a heavy burden that couldn't disappear through a single wish. It was never easy to fulfill a promise that Harry himself couldn't do to himself.