Second chances *ੈ✩‧₊˚ (harry potter x reader)

Days

guys please don't come for me at how i'm dealing with the healing of this girl's leg injury😭😭 i'm not a doctor

also double update😘

Amidst the general unrest and confusion that buzzed through the house that evening, Harry and I had managed to hustle a shared bed. There were going to be quite a few people that would be joining the Weasley residence in the weeks to come, so all of us sharing a room was inevitable.

"— and no snogging when any of us are in the room," Ron adds finally. "If you really must, pull the covers up, would you?" I laughed.

Hermione rolled her eyes and Ginny sat absentmindedly on her own bed. Honey was in her lap — it was like the girl was reconnecting with nature after having spent the last two straight weeks glaring at the television screen. She looked fascinated by the cat.

There were 5 mattresses altogether in the room, the twins had just remained in their own bedroom, but Harry bunking with me meant the extra was solely for suitcase space.

We'd changed into pyjamas a few minutes ago after having spent a few hours downstairs with George.

Mrs Weasley made a call for hot chocolate; she'd been so happy that all her children had returned alive.

"You coming?" Hermione asked me in the doorframe. She'd been the last out of her, Ron and Ginny to leave.

I glanced over my shoulder at Harry who'd silently been unpacking his things. Hermione caught the hint far quicker than anticipated and gave a subtle nod, closing the door behind her. And I knew she'd stall the two siblings downstairs for as long as possible.

Now, there's really no soft way to say this: Harry sucks with emotions. Like actually, terrible. He can't talk about them and can hardly express them healthily. It hurt to see him like this.

I watched as he moved about the room, his movements stiff and mechanical.

He folded a pair of socks with more care than necessary, and at this point I was so sure he'd unpacked and packed his things twice just for the sake of keeping busy.

Hedwig's death had hit him hard—I could see that much. He hadn't said a word about it since it had happened, but I knew the loss was eating away at him.

Hedwig wasn't just an owl — she was a connection to a simpler time at Hogwarts, his companion during the dreadful summers with his aunt and uncle, a reminder of his life before everything had gone to hell.

And now, she was gone too.

We were completely alone in the room and hadn't exchanged a word since everyone left. The sounds of the night seemed to intensify.

I didn't know what to say—I wasn't sure anything I could say would make a difference. I wasn't sure how to start. It felt wrong to press him when he was clearly still reeling. But leaving him like this, alone with his thoughts, seemed worse.

"Harry," I finally said, my voice soft. He paused, his hand lingering over a jersey in his suitcase, but he didn't turn his head to look at me. "You can talk to me."

Harry stared down at his open trunk, unmoving like he'd forgotten what he was supposed to be doing.

He didn't respond immediately, just continued to stare downward. I noticed his hands were actually trembling, barely noticeable unless you were really looking.

For a long moment, he continued to not say anything. When he finally did, his voice was low, almost a whisper... and he immediately continued unpacking thereafter. "She didn't deserve that."