the gentle moon / george weasley

the pack - August

I was standing in the room that mum had taken over at Grimmualds Place. The closet door was cracked and I could see all her robes hanging on the rack. There was a half-finished sudoku puzzle on her desk with a still steaming cup of tea next to it. She was getting ready for bed when I called her downstairs after Snape showed up.

"Do you hate me?" Harry mumbled at the doorway. He had his coat and boots on still. I think dad was gonna bring him back to the castle when him and Sirius get back from the ministry. Dumbledore called for them, to talk to officials or something about Sirius' innocence. Honestly, I should be worried if it's a trap, but I'm pretty sure I'm still in shock.

"What do you think happens now?" I looked over my shoulder at him, I wasn't even aware that I was pulling at one of the sleeves of her robes, "Her stuff was never really my style. What do I do with her clothes? There's a load of laundry on the line out in the garden, do we fold it? Should we? I don't think Tonks would wear any of this..."

Harry shrugged.

"She only took a sip." I turned back at her desk, "See, her lipstick only stained once, there aren't any other stains overlapping it... She didn't even get to enjoy it. And look, she was in the middle of deciding which number went in this square," I walked over to the desk, pointing at one of the quadrants. Mum had scribbled three possible numbers in the middle square. "It's 5." I'm tired of crying, I'm tired of my voice cracking anytime I think of her, "The right number is 5..."

"Do you hate me?" He repeated.

"I could never hate you, Harry. She would never want that."

Harry's face contorted into a painful expression, trying to hold back his tears. He was in pain, so much pain, and all he could wrap his head around was this was all his fault. Mum was dead. And I can tell he doesn't understand why no one was mad at him, why no one hated him. Because the one constant person in everyone's life was dead. He thinks he killed her.

"This isn't your fault, Harry," I say. I wish my lip would stop quivering. I know it's painful for them to see me like this. Crying like this. I never liked crying, I hated how I feel afterward. But I was crying, in front of him. Because of him... "I don't blame you. I just wish you used the mirror..."

"I'm so sorry." Harry said, "I'm sorry that your mum is gone."

I went toward mum's desk again and pulled at the top drawer. In it was a folder, a yellow one. Mum loved yellow. All her post-it notes, her bed sheets... This folder. I pulled it out and handed it to Harry.

"What is this?" Harry asked

"She wanted to give you this when you got back from school." I said, "We've been talking about it for a while and we wanted to make sure we got it done before you were 17."

Harry opened the folder and his breath caught.

"She's your mum too, Harry," I say. "Of course, you'll always be a Potter, but mum wanted you to feel like you belonged here. That you had a family."

"She adopted me?" Harry looked up, finally tears escaping his eyes.

It was cold, and I was wet. Why am I wet? When I opened my eyes, Arc was standing over me with a bucket.

"Did you just throw water on me?"

"You talk in your sleep," Arc said. He's a short man, with long black hair. He has a huge scar across his face, that goes down his neck to his chest. "It's annoying."

"Why are you in my tent?"

"You're not screaming anymore though." He says, "You used to scream in your sleep when you first got here." I left home 2 weeks ago...