About Harry

Albus

Shit! He heard everything.

We haven't been exactly quiet in our exchange and Dad's room is just beside, doors open and all.

He is sitting up on bed, elbows rested on knees, head bowed.

And I suddenly feel so exhausted, so tired of all this sadness. I'm only fourteen. I should be enjoying myself right now, I should be thoughtless and carefree. I should be in the common room discussing brooms with mates or with Rose snogging somewhere in secret, or in class killing time until break time. I shouldn't be here, mourning for my mother, fighting for my father.

James has always done the fighting, not me. I don't know how it is done and I'm not used to. I haven't got that strength.

I don't know what to say to dad, I don't know what to do. I feel so alone in all this. So overwhelmed.

I rest against the door frame heaving a big breath, my eyes close itself slowly as I'm trying to gather my strength and wit to handle this situation somehow.

I wish so much somebody would be here, stepping in for me.

And as if reading my wish, I feel a presence beside me that gently put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Exactly what I was hoping for. A hand that tells me "Don't worry, I'll take care of it".

I open my eyes to see who's my saviour and I find Aunt Hermione there. She is not looking at me despite her hand, she is looking in front of her, where dad is.

And just as my eyes rest on her I see her own, wide open, filling with tears.

'Harry...' she murmurs, her voice almost chocked, full of emotion.

Dad's head spring up hearing that voice.

'Hermione' he whispers surprised. They are both silent looking at each other and then it's dad who breaks the ice. 'Hi' he says weaving wearily his hand.

I think that simple gesture of greeting triggers something in her who flings toward him, sweeping him away in a such impetuous hug that he is almost overthrown.

'Oh Harry' she slurs between sobs.

Dad hugs her back resting his head against her shoulder.

'Hermione, Ginny...' he only says.

'I know...'

They stand in each other arms for quite a bit while she is clearly trying to master her wailing.

When she succeeds, he draws her on the bed with him, sitting back against the wall, aunt crouching on his side, her head buried in the slope of his neck.

'I'm so glad you woke up'

Aunt voice come muffled. Dad doesn't reply, he only caresses her head. I don't think he is any happy to have woken up, but I can see from his expression that her embrace is soothing and helping him more than any of my words could have done.

I slip silently on my armchair relieved by her presence.

I watch them in each other arms and though I'm not alone as I feared, I feel lonely more than ever. An acute longing for Rose pervades me so strongly my chest hurts. I need the same tender exchange.

I don't know for how long we stay there each lost in its own mind and thoughts.

Aunt stopped crying and dad is cuddling her, keeping her tight against him only occasionally kissing her hair.