𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑 || H.P

𝟓𝟏

Death was the most painless part of it all.

The mirror laughed at me like a devil in disguise. My sweaters tainted red with blood, mocked my foolishness and dismay. My bed, named to be made for the wealthiest and most high class, with plush pillows and silk duvets, drowned me as I slept.

When I died, it all disappeared.

When I awoke, my sleeves were fresh and colored white. Instead of mirrors, there were photographs scattered on the walls. My bed, hard as a rock—but I slept in his arms and arose from the waters that is now called a quilt.

Harry had my hair tousled on his face. He had a fistful of my shirt—which I reckon belonged to him—clutched in his hands. I couldn't remember anything from the night before because now, right next to me, his chest rose and fell and occasionally, and his little breaths would cause my hair to fly upward.

I wish I could've stayed long enough to say goodbye. However, it would be best for both parties if I just left.

"No," Harry mumbled, and his eyes fluttered open to see me sitting up. "You can't go."

I placed my hand on his. "Good morning to you as well."

"Don't go." He took my waist and pulled me into his chest.

"What will your weasel friends say when they find me in their guest room?"

"My weasels can deal with it." He kissed the now healed scar on my jaw. "Stay."

I was on a suicide mission, now. But, his persistence and raspy voice was too adorable to decline.
-

"You're bloody joking." Ron Weasley awoke slightly later than Harry and I. "She follows you around like a like a leech!"

"Be kind, Ronald," said Mrs. Weasley, blankly. Fleur Delacour silently helped her crack eggs into a pan.

"I'm sitting right here carrot top!"

"Settle, children," Mr. Weasley announced, taking a jug of milk from the refrigerator. "Ah, Harry, who's your friend?"

Ronald mumbled something inaudibly before setting his plate down at the edge of the table.

Mr. Weasley did not look at me but smiled giddily while spreading jam on his toast.

"I'm- er..."

He waited patiently for my reply.

"I'm-"

"Alicia Shallow!" Two voices came from the same face. The Weasley twins scooped up some scrambled eggs as Mr. Weasley's face completely dropped.

"Careful dad, she might got a tracker on her!" One of them exclaimed.

"Working for baldy, are you?" Questioned the other one.

"I promise it's not true!" I yelled, watching Mr. Weasley's expression go from confused to frightened.

Harry finally swallowed his food. "Arthur, she means no harm!"

"What are you doing in my home?" He asked, calmly.

"Trying to get Harry killed, obviously."

Fleur and Mrs. Weasley continued to place food onto the table with sick expressions.

"That's not true!"

"What's all the ruckus?" Even more Weasley's walked in and I began to feel ill. Ginny saw me and immediately narrowed her eyes.

The boy was tall with longer hair, and a scar that ran across his entire face. He said no more, but looked at me strangely.

"Listen, Shallow, I hope you know I work at the ministry and-"

"Aren't you the girl who healed me?"

The chaos was ceased.

Mrs. Weasley and Fleur suddenly raised their eyes. The twins quit their laughing, Ginny and Ron stared at Bill, and Mr. Weasley's words came to a complete halt. Even Harry looked dumbfounded.

"What was that?"

Bill glanced around the room. "She healed my scar." He gestured towards his face. "I'm pretty sure it was you..."

"It was," I confirmed. "I didn't know how well it would work-"

"You saved my life!" Bill interrupted. "I wish I had gotten to thank you before. Merlin, you're excellent. Thank you!"

I was still stuck on how he'd come out alive. "O-of course-"

"You saved my Bill!" Both Mrs. Weasley and Fleur had embraced me tightly. Molly was almost suffocating me with her arms. "Oh, darling, I must apologize!"

Ron and Ginny's faces softened and the twins looked at me in shock.

Mr. Weasley's manner remained unchanged. "Do your folks know you are here?"

Everyone was quiet once again.

"No, Sir," I answered, hesitantly, under Fleurs grip.

At first, his expression was constant. Cold and belittling. Then, the harshness started to melt down into a laugh. "Sir?! Oh, I haven't been called 'sir' in years! Call me Arthur."
-

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For tutoring me."

Harry turned his head toward me from where we were laying in the grass, underneath the night sky. He laughed. "Tutoring you?"

"Yes."

It was chilly outside. The wind blew tenderly, letting the leaves rustle in the trees. There were few stars in the sky, but the ones that were present shone brightly like floating crystals.

"I didn't really do much tutoring."

I smacked his arm amusedly and he smiled. "I meant you honestly didn't need it."

I sighed. "When we go back, we'll make a plan—and actually execute it."

Harry went silent for a while. His fingers that were fidgeting with my hair paused.

"What happened?"

"Nothing." He ran his hand along the length of my arm and pressed his lips on mine. "When you go back,  you'll have to be discrete."

"What do you mean?"

He said nothing, but kissed me again, and my mind was clouded. The answer to my question didn't matter anymore, I supposed. My hands slipped underneath his sweater, gliding along the skin on his stomach. It was difficult to focus on how his hands skimmed my shoulders when his lips reached my jawline. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks until a small drop of water fell on our faces to cool us off.

Rain started splattering onto the lawn. The wind blew harder, and we laughed as our hair and clothing got soaked with water.

Harry took my hand in his and we both ran around the marshes and back into the burrow.