𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝐴𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 (𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑃.)

~Chapter 38: To Harry!~

Y/c- your choice

When Harry told me about his new lessons with Snape, I had to figure out really quick how to contain that anger. "I get why it must be done; does not mean I agree with it any." I say, applying a new cream I made for Harry's scar.

He had mentioned that the one I made wasn't helping much anymore, so I added a new herb to help with numbing the area. And he has said it is helping once again. 

Dad and Papa found out we were together the day Harry got here thanks to Ronald; the fool opened his large mouth about us not being allowed to sleep together anymore. Of course, my fathers flipped. 

We agreed that naps must be taken downstairs, and the door is to be open if we're in one another's rooms.  

Harry's arms are wrapped around my waist as I rub the last bit into his skin. "Better?" He nods gently, allowing his head to fall against my torso. "What is it?" 

He shakes his head as he dips his hands into the pockets of my jeans, and I sigh softly, allowing him to bask in whatever he is feeling. My bracelet has been a deep shade of blue, which I assume is sadness. Maybe even depression, while his has been a mixture of orange and its original color of y/c. 

Poof jumps up and down on my bed, behind Harry, and I smile lightly. "Someone is asking for you," He lifts his head up and turns his focus towards Poof. "Hey, babes," He lifts her up to his face, and she nuzzles up against his cheek. She coos before jumping down from his hands and returns to bouncing on my bed. 

"Still not sleeping properly?" He answers with a shake of his head. I sit next to him, and he leans his head on my shoulder. Ever since he had that vision, Harry refuses to come see me at night. I cannot say I understand. However, I hope he knows I'm still here for him.

He's hardly speaking to anyone at all, even me and that's not like him. I would be petrified if roles were reversed, hell I would even push him away, but I'm glad he's not. Even if he's not communicating properly.

I decide not to press any further, as he previously snapped at the last person that kept pressuring him. Poor Ginny. Hermione is arriving later for the Holidays, after she enjoys her time with her parents, that is. 

"Do you think there's something off with me?" 

"Like what?"

"Perhaps... I'm possessed?" The words are quiet, hardly above a murmur. I place my thumb under his chin, forcing his gaze to meet mine. "Why do you say that?" His piercing green eyes stare into my own, "When I had that-" he stammers for a moment, "Dream." 

"When I snapped, it felt as if the anger wasn't my own, like it was his." Harry gently pets the top of poofs head, the creature cooing softly. I don't understand what he's going through and nor will I try too, "Perhaps speak to Ginny on it. She's had a history with that, unfortunately, but I'm sure she'd be glad to help you navigate that, Harry." 

His brows furrow for a moment, turning his view back to Poof, "I'll consider that." 

Later that afternoon, Hermione arrives just in time for dinner. Thankfully Mr. Weasley also made it from the hospitals just in time. The doctors had said if it had been any later then when they found him, he may not be enjoying the meal with us tonight. 

Mrs. Weasley sits the lot of us children down at the table and passes out our presents, each one being hand made by her. I believe it to be sweet and generous of her, especially when she includes Harry, Hermione and me.

This year she made the three of us scarves, each of our own favorite colors. 

"Do you like it, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asks, hugging me gently around the neck and I nod. "I do! It's lovely, I'll wear it on my next outing." She smiles brightly and presses a motherly kiss to my cheek before doing the same to Harry.