Pairing: Harry Potter/AU Harry Potters
Theme: Five Days: No. 3 Wednesday
Notes: Usually I post these on the right day of the week - I'm bummed to have missed this one. But never fear, Thursday's child will be on Thursday! I haven't been online -at all- for the last four days. I've had sad messages from my friends, who think I've left them forever, and also, haven't been able to write any of my drabbles. They're all going to be late - but I'm doing them -right now-. So you'll see them all in the next couple of hours. I am SO sorry that they're late. I hope it's okay...
Harry wasn’t exactly surprised the third time it happened. Not that he knew it was going to…it had just become one of those strange things. He had begun to suspect that this was some macabre plan that one of his enemies had dreamed up to disarm him. But it was so bizarre…
There he was – and it was certainly him – sitting in his favourite seat on the sofa in front of the fire, with his photo-album spread out over his knees. He was hunched forward, and as Harry approached he could hear his sobs over the crackle of the flames.
“Are you allright?” he asked, and even to his own ears his voice sounded loud in the silence. It frightened the boy in the chair, who turned around abruptly and looked at him with wet eyes.
“Who are you?” asked the second Harry, taking out his wand.
Harry stepped into the light, smiling reassuringly. He was getting used to this now. “I’m you…I mean – another you. Why are you crying?”
The other didn’t lower his wand. “Why am I crying? If you’re me, you’d know why I was crying! They’re all dead!”
Frowning, Harry approached, looking down into the book. The picture on one side was of Dumbledore’s Army, and on the right was the old photograph from the Daily Prophet of the Weasley family on holiday in Egypt.
“All of them…?” Harry breathed, his head suddenly feeling heavy. They couldn’t all be dead. They weren’t… Harry sank heavily down onto the sofa beside his double, feeling horrible. He turned to his double to find that he was hysterical with tears, rocking back and forth as he cried. Harry reached out, curled his fingers around the other’s shoulders and pulled him against his chest.
They held each other, and they cried, and eventually they kissed, desperately. It was the misery of loneliness that fuelled it. Eventually they fell asleep, fully clothed, still wrapped around each other.
“What on earth are you up to, sleeping in the Common Room?” It was Hermione who woke him the next morning, standing above him with her arms folded across her chest.
Harry looked around, but there was nobody else there; the other Harry had gone. Hermione was still there though; waiting for her answer, so Harry said the first thing that came into his head: “I was up late studying.”
It was worth the lie to see her smile like that.