HEATHENS - Harry Potter ✔

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Kiera laid in her four-poster bed in the Slytherin dormitory, still fully dressed in her ripped and bloodied school uniform. The walk down the marble staircase when the others had all gone up had been harder than ever. Hours had passed since then. Sleep felt like one of those stories you heard as a child, one that you knew existed but was now foreign to you and as much as you tried to remember what it was and how it went, the attempts fell through your fingers like water.

She hadn't seen Harry, had not got the chance to wish him goodnight even though the gesture would have been completely redundant; he had still been with McGonagall.

Kiera felt overtaken by emotion. The grief, pain, and sorrow were so extreme it was causing her physical pain, and she wasn't feeling only for herself, but for Harry too, and she did not believe it was humanly possible to survive such agony. Fawkes was still singing. The sorrowful, melancholic song of heartache seemed to enter into her body, compassing all of her. It was terribly beautiful and tragically brilliant, the sadness was inescapable, it reached the very soul. But somehow it eased their pain.

As she lay there, Kiera found herself wondering whether Pansy, Astoria, Millicent, and Sally-Anne knew about Dumbledore's deaths, and if they did, how could they be sleeping so soundly? She felt as if she was suffocating.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a strong jolt of mourning. It caused tears to roll down the sides of her face and fall into her hair by her ear, not because it hurt, which it did, but because somehow, she knew it was Harry's and that caused her more pain than anything. It was his pain that was so extreme.

No longer able to take it, Kiera sat up and pulled her boots on as quietly as possible, then grabbed her wand, and left the dormitory. Though she could not be certain he was there, she headed for the windowsill where they had shared many moments together. The castle itself felt as if it was mourning.

When she turned a corner, someone called after her. "You, stop! No students are allowed out of bed, especially after – oh, it's you, Walker."

"I ... I wanted to go see Harry," Kiera whispered.

Professor Sprout evaluated her for a few seconds before she sighed. "Oh alright, you may go," she said softly. "But be careful, and if someone else catches you they might not be as forgiving."

When Kiera finally turned the last corner, which allowed the large window to came into sight, she, sure enough, instantly spotted Harry sitting on the sill, clad in grey T-shirt and red flannel trousers. His body was shaking, most likely from the combination of the freezing temperature and the grief.

Harry didn't hear or see her as she cautiously moved toward him. It was only when she placed a hand over his that Harry slowly raised his head. He had known it was Kiera; he recognised the scent of peonies. It was a strange feeling when their eyes met. It was as if all their emotions surged through their bodies into their fingertips, intertwining as their hands had. It was as if their very souls had met each other, meant to be together forever and forged together into one. Their grief, fear, happiness, hope, and lack off of each ran to each other as couples would in movies, the very emotions meeting each other in a long overdue kiss.

And then everything felt better.

And everything felt so much worse.

Neither said a word. They simply stared into each other's eyes, escaping time which provided them both with a moment of relief. When another tear escaped the corner of Harry's eye, Kiera instantly wrapped her arms around him.

It must have been hours until Harry pulled away from her. His eyes were still red and puffy but the tears had dried into salty stains on his cheeks.