rosemary

vervain

vervain represents healing; forgiving mistakes from the past and starting over

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The green sign advertising the city limits glinted in the sunlight. Thirty-six hours of driving with two overnight stops had finally brought them home.

Over the center console, Harry had his arm stretched out with his hand in (Y/N)'s lap, their hands tangled together.

A sense of deja-vu washed over him at the familiar sight despite the unfamiliar circumstances. The first time he saw this sign, Harry was numb. This was just another stop on the endless journey he had embarked on before he even really knew what it would mean to run away. He'd shut every meaningful part of himself away, ensuring the pain and guilt and sorrow wouldn't have a chance to strike him.

This time around, despite the same sign in front of him, the same sun shining over him, the same town welcoming him in, everything was different. That solid facade now held irreparable cracks.

The soft parts of him that held happiness and healing, vulnerability and contentedness, were finally being exposed after so long of being hidden away from the light. In trying his best to keep everything from hurting so much, he eliminated every chance of happiness or redemption.

While the cracks were raw and sore, the fact he could feel them was enough for Harry to find the bright side of the pain. More and more of the positives began to seep in even if he had to dig through the tunnel of hurt still.

(Y/N) squeezed his hand as the view of the town came over the horizon. It was odd seeing it look so normal; nothing had changed since they left, despite the fact everything had changed. Even the way he saw the small village had changed. This was no longer a single stop on the way to another hiding place. There was no reason to run any more if he didn't want to. This could be his home.

Harry's house was the first stop they made. It was quick and quiet, Harry only stopping off to see if he even still had a home here.

(Y/N) followed him through the apartment, their hands entwined with her behind. Everything was just as Harry had left it. His sheets were still a mess, his closet doors thrown open, and his kitchen sparsely stocked with canned food. He never thought he'd see this place again; no matter what had happened on the road, he never saw himself coming back here for any other reason than to return (Y/N) to her life before he was gone again. Now, this place held a small sense of permanence as he made plans on how he was going to have to fix up certain areas he messed up in his quick escape and what kind of fixtures he would add to his limited furniture.

But all of that could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, he would be at (Y/N)'s—at her request. She had wanted to take a shower in her own bathroom and sleep in her own bed, but she wanted Harry to be there as well. He had no qualms about that plan. (He wouldn't be able to admit it, but he didn't think he would have been able to drop her off and go their separate ways anyway. Not after everything).

Other than the key he plucked from the door jamb and the clothes he dropped off to be washed later, nothing was changed in his apartment in their wake.

Harry drove slowly through the town, as if becoming familiar for the first time with the place he had called home for almost nine months. Her gingerbread neighbourhood was just as perfect as when he left it last, though things looked that much sweeter now without the veil of panic and lies.

With their bags packed over his shoulder, (Y/N) led him inside with her. Everything felt pleasantly mundane as they shed their shoes just like they did the night they kissed, their bags being deposited in her bedroom after. Her kitchen was the exact same, his memories being refreshed instead of being reflected through the photographs he still needed to burn.