𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑 || H.P

𝟕𝟐

Harry POV;

Maybe it was the way she smelled like fresh flowers after the rain.

Harry took it to himself to replace her bandages every few hours. It had been three days, and apart from a couple whimpers, she showed no signs of waking up.

Ron and Hermione checked in then and again. They would search in spell books around the cottage, and Bill and Fleur brought up different herbs to stop the bleeding. It helped, but couldn't come close to the wonders Alicia could do.

If the roles were reversed, she could've gotten him to wake up by now.

Fleur switched out her clothing. It was then when he saw the bruises plastered on her arms and collar bone. She had cuts all over her body, and he couldn't help but loathe himself. He had left her to this fate.

Harry noticed that when he was further away, a scowl would form on her face. It relaxed when he was near, as if she could sense his presence. He laid on the sofa across from hers, only letting his eyes rest for a couple moments at a time.

Luna worried that Harry wasn't getting enough sleep. But how could he sleep when she was in a state like this?

The cottage was comforting, but he couldn't bear looking at Dobby's grave any longer than he had. He focused on Alicia, who gave him all the comfort he needed.
-

In my second year, Draco told me that Harry Potter was going to turn into a snake.

It was a running joke amongst the Slytherins. Our prefects came up with it. They said he was crazy, that he was the one staining our walls with blood. Theo told me a story about how he would travel inside the walls and kill little children.

Turns out that was Voldemort.

In my third year, a killer was inside Hogwarts.

It was even more terrifying because, by the end of it, Harry Potter was defending him! How could you defend someone who killed your family?

Turns out that was Voldemort.

In my fourth year, I learned how to ballroom dance.

I had forgotten nearly every single one by the end of the week. It was alright, though, because Harry Potter couldn't dance either. By the end of the year, he was labeled insane once again. It was difficult rooting for someone who makes himself so hard to defend. When I went home for summer holiday, my parents were celebrating. I didn't want to ask, but it was very clear why.

It was Voldemort.

When I woke up today, I expected to be stuck in a large bed that was much less comfortable than it looked. I should've been confined with my father's pungent cologne being used as an air freshener.

Instead, it smelled like salt water.

I jolted awake at the breeze hitting my skin. I couldn't move my legs and my chest was heaving. There was a moment of panic when my head jerked side to side, trying to find any familiarity. I stared down at my arms, they were fully exposed, covered in marks, and I was wearing a large t-shirt instead of a black gown. I was on a couch, in a small room with the windows open. There was an ocean.

There was Harry. He was asleep on another couch and his glasses were lopsided on his nose.

I rubbed my eyes and tried to speak. It was a painful croak and my hand immediately flew up to clutch my throat.

"Bloody hell..."

I jumped again to the voice above me. Ron was stunned, staring at me with something I wanted to say was exhilaration. "H-Harry! She's awake!"