𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝐴𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 (𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑃.)

Chapter 29: July 31st,1995

Mrs. Figg is clearly sick of the two of us. Harry's godawful aunt and uncle has refused to let him leave the house for days, something about how he needs to be cleansed. Whatever the fuck that means. 

"Harry!" I shout from my window seal, throwing a rock at the one across from Mrs. Figgs property. "Yes?" My favorite raven-haired boy appears in the frame with a soft smile. "How'd you sleep? I hate Mrs. Figg won't allow you over," I prop my arm onto the wood under me and rest my head on top my head.

I watch as he exhales deeply, "Horribly... Honestly it's gotten worse since being here." I scrunch my nose at his words and watch as Poof appears behind his figure. "Well, has our little Poof kept you any good company?" 

Harry smiles and picks up the Pygmy puff and holds her up to his cheek, she nuzzles him and he smiles slightly. "Definitely, second best company I could ask for." A screech behind him echos and I laugh, "Right. Sorry Hedwig, third best."

I lean out of the window and glance around, "Dursleys not home?" He shakes his head in response. "Yeah, but they locked me in here. Something about dirtying up the air of the house, I dunno anymore." 

I stifle a laugh, "Okay, I'll be over in a few." I pick up the book I'm currently reading and walk downstairs, past Mrs. Figg. "Where are you off to in a hurry?" She pipes.

"Next door, Harry's home alone and he's worried if something was to happen." I lie and without missing a beat I open the door and close it behind me. What the Dursleys don't know is that Harry secretly got me a key to the house, and his bedroom.

I use my spare key, twisting the dead bolt lock. I step over the trim and quietly close it behind me before running up the flight of stairs with my book still in hand.

My fingers fiddle with the five different deadbolt locks on his door until it swings open. Harry pulls me into a hug and kisses my cheek.

"I've missed you," he says. I snort a laugh before sliding out of his grasp. "I saw you last week, and we talk from across your windowsill." He groans at my words, "It's just not the same."

He's right about that. It's not the same anymore. Ever since we left home, neither one of us has been sleeping fully. Although I believe my insomnia is due to my mother, Hermione and I have been searching for any further research on her.

Absolutely nothing following the year I was born, it's as if she disappeared. Perhaps she did, in a sense, now that she's one of them. She even played a role in the death of one of my closest friends. Should I hate her then? Esmerelda could have played a large part in the murder of Cedric, or perhaps she's a double agent. 

"Y/n?" Harry's voice draws me out of my thoughts, I shake my head with a smile, "I'm fine." I can tell he doesn't buy that but guides me to sit down regardless. Poof jumps from his shoulder to mine as I take my place in front of Harry, who wraps his arms around me as I lay against his chest.

I open the leather bind of my book and begin reading the words on the pages as Harry rests his head on my shoulder, holding me tightly. Abruptly he hisses out in pain, his fingers flying to the similar scar. I swiftly turn my head to face him, "How long?" 

He's face written in a false confusion, "I haven't a clue what you're on about." I slam my book closed and rotate to face him; with a sharp tone I repeat. "How long Harry?" 

"They've gotten worse," he mutters, holding his face in his palm as if the pain is lingering.

"Harry James! You should something, I was under the impression it had stopped at last." I replace his hand with my hand and use my thumb to rub gentle circles. His face scrunches in unease but eventually he mellows out in my grasp.