_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ It was practically written in the stars, illuminated by the light of the moon. Both Y/N Sterling and Harry Potter felt like it was a never-ending pining. It was a fleeting feeling, seeing the other smile at them across the room. The...
Harry and Y/N whispered about the whole...incident. It wasn't Hermione's wand that had illuminated the forest for the second time. It was Y/N's eyes.
Neither her nor Harry had a clue as to what it meant. Her eyes glowed white. They didn't have much time to discuss it before they dozed off in each other's arms, having been exhausted from the events of the day.
Falling into slumber at around three in the morning, they were awoken after only a few hours of sleep. Mister Weasley used magic to pack up the tents while they scrambled to collect their possessions.
Y/N tried to return Harry's hoodie, Harry refused - "The morning air is cold."
Holding hands with Hermione and Ginny, on their way to the edge of campsite, Y/N tried to decipher what everything meant. How could her eyes glow? That wasn't humanly possible. Why did the ground thrum? Why did it happen when she was happy?
Why? Why? Why?
"Merry Christmas" Mister Roberts said brightly, slightly dazed as they exited the campsite.
After the attack, some Ministry Officials had to wipe his memory - since they had to get rid of so many traumatic memories, he would be a little bit loopy for a while.
"I'm sorry, Mister Roberts," Y/N muttered to the man as they passed. He looked puzzled, but she pushed past, mind still occupied.
She was barely paying attention when they were handed their Portkey, almost forgetting to put her thumb to the object, until Fred heaved her hand over the broken tire.
Feeling a whirr, a spin, and a tug at her naval, Y/N found herself back on Stoatstead Hill.
Cedric had met up with her in the morning, worried out of his mind. His father told him what happened, with the Dark Mark, and he was fussing over Y/N for at least thirty minutes. She attempted to shove him off, but he refused. He'd known her since he was five, her being two. He was like an older brother.
He wasn't taking this Portkey back, since Amos had to deal with some official things. Y/N promised to letter Aunt Ettie to tell her everything was alright.
Hermione grabbed Y/N's hand in comfort. The walk back to the Burrow was almost silent, save for Fred and George cracking a few jokes here and there.
The moment the group set foot over the threshold into the kitchen, Missus Weasley yelled, "Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!"
She was clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet tightly in her hands, still in her nightgown, rollers in her hair.
The woman huddled the children into a huge hug, then flung her arms around her husband. "I was so worried, so worried!"
