❝𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲?❞
❝𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦.❞
𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 had a few, perhaps a little or more than a palm of qualms in his life. First up was the whole "The Boy-Who-Lived" shenanigans, then there was an ungodly am...
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LXXVI. MEMOIRS OF A LILY
━━━━━━
"You're in the wind, I'm in the water
Nobody's son, nobody's daughter"
RETURNING TO GRIMMAULD PLACE WAS unexpected for Marjorie; she had little to no ties to this place except for that one winter in which she had ran away. Yet, here she was.
As she fluttered her eyes open, the early morning light filtered into the Black family's dusty drawing room. The familiar yet foreign sight wasn't exactly a cherished view, but she digressed. She tried to rise from the awful but better-than-nothing sleeping bag, but something held her back. Puzzled, she turned to her right, and her heart skipped a beat. There, close beside her, lay Harry, his sleeping figure so near that she could hear his steady breathing.
He was curled on his side, snoring gently and soundly in his sleep, his chest heaving up and down lightly with peace. His dark under eyes prompt that must have slept later than all of them, perhaps guarding them before he, himself, was fallen to the desire of resting. Subconsciously, her hands reached out for him. It broke her heart a bit; she stared at the dark circles consisted of purple and blue with sadness as she caressed his cheeks. The burden of the Wizarding world was in his hands, and from the moment he was born he had not choice but to accept it.
It wasn't fair.
They were seventeen. In about a month, they were supposed to start their seventh year, take their N.E.W.T.s, graduate, find jobs — perhaps even settle down if fate had willed it. They were supposed to live their lives as normal witches and wizards, meeting death when it was finally time, not running from it prematurely.
But fate was cruel.
They were more cruel to Harry. He never chose for the hands that had been handed to him in a whim. He never asked to be the Chosen One, and yet here he was now, practically on the run from someone that was so adamant to kill him. He deserved happiness after everything that he had went through, and she couldn't help but stress that. Why was the world so cruel to him specifically?
The world failed him more ways than one, but his will was so strong that no one could ever rival that.
The world was undeserving and spoiled, but Marjorie digressed.
She gently pulled his arm away from her waist and laid it quietly on his side as she slowly sat upright to truly register her surroundings. The place was so dusty, as if no one had touched it in ages. But it was also grim now that it was just the four of them inhabiting the place — Marjorie understood why Sirius had never wanted to stay alone in his parents' house. Even with her friends here, she felt a profound loneliness in the oppressive silence.
