One way or another

Chapter 18

When Harry woke up, he immediately hit the snooze button and buried his face in a pillow, groaning. School. No thank you. Responsibilities. Yuck. Human interaction. More like... pillow interaction. Ha.

And Harry dozed back to sleep.

When the snooze alarm rang the second time, Harry didn't even bother to open his eyes when he turned it off.

The third time, he had to - seeing as he also had to get out of bed, and given Harry's coordination (or more, lack thereof) he would have fallen down and hurt himself if his eyes would have remained closed. And not enough to be excused out of school either, only so much that he'd curse and hate everything ever made in ten intense seconds, and then people would roll their eyes and sigh if he were to complain about it. Hence, Harry opened his eyes and remained in one piece.

Harry wasn't usually this appose to going to school (yes he was) (or, at least the last month he has been) but today really was the worst out of the worst. The annual talent show. Great.

Harry wasn't even sure why he complained so much. But, like, it was always the same thing. Some talented kid playing the piano, some guy rapping, and, of course, the worst was when the teachers picked out a lame song and sang it, and after going "oh wow look at us, we're so fun and innovative and unlike other teachers - we don't take life too seriously! Go us! Teacher spirit!" Or no, Harry took that back. Who was he even kidding? The worst part was that he never had the courage himself to perform. No point denying it - that was a big slap in the face.

Sighing, Harry left his room and made his way downstairs where his mum sat drinking tea and reading the morning paper. She looked up when he entered.

"Good morning," she greeted.

Harry walked over to the counter and poured a cup of tea to himself. "Morning."

"Sleep well?"

"Mhm."

After making himself two sandwiches, Harry sat down at the table, facing his mum.

"Excited about today?" Anne asked, dropping her chin in her hand.

Harry sighed. Nor was he excited, nor did he want to talk about it. "Not really."

Anne frowned slightly, her face a mix of confusion and concern. "I don't see why you don't want to enter, Harry. You're so talented." When Harry didn't answer, she continued, looking at him pointedly. "You're so talented that I don't even complain when you wake me up singing at the top of your lungs at 2 am."

Harry chuckled. "Sorry about that."

"Don't apologise." Anne smiled ruefully. "I don't mind. It makes me proud hearing you. Makes my heart swell."

"Oh," Harry said, looking at her while taking a zip of his tea. "Really?"

"Absolutely," Anne said, her expression serious. "You sound so lovely, it's unbelievable."

Harry blushed and put down the mug. "Thank you."

"Just hearing you last night on the radio was incredible. I think that was what you were born to do," Anne said, her eyes shining in the dim light. "I think you could do anything you wanted to."

Harry looked down at his "things I can't" tattoos and swallowed thickly. "Maybe."

"Not 'maybe', Harry," Anne said, and Harry looked up at her helplessly. She grabbed his hand, and squeezed gently. "You can. You can do absolutely anything you want to."

xx

When Harry first spotted his school, the first thing he did was let out his mandatory sigh, and then he entered the school and he let out his mandatory groan. And today, it was worse than usual. Harry wouldn't go as far as calling it a helpless cry of despair in the pit of hell, but close enough. Despite his mums encouraging words, he still knew he wouldn't be performing anything. He had nothing planned and hadn't signed himself up for anything, so it was too late now anyway.