From The Dining Table [H.S]

The Stories Behind His Letters

A/N: had really bad writers block all week trying to write this oop

Primrose's POV:

After saying goodbye to Granny Pam, I immediately gathered all my letters from Harry, including the one I'd already opened, and placed them on my kitchen counter. I set about taking all the treats out from the basket, placing them in the according places and leaving a few of my favourites in the hamper. Going to my fridge, I took a few snacks and drinks and also positioned them in the basket.

My feet carried me to my bedroom, Eddie was resting neatly on my pillow, next to my bedside table. I hooked him safely under my arm, retrieving the blanket from the end of my bed and my camera from my bedside table, before returning from the kitchen.

Shoving on my shoes, I lastly found my sunglasses from my handbag, and made my way downstairs with my things, heading to the beach. It was a warm autumn evening, slightly chilly from the fresh sea breeze, but that's what the blankets for. My curls danced in partnership with the wind as I met the beach. Kicking my shoes off, I was blinded by the stunning golden sun cascading over the sea. I let the glasses Angel bought me rest on my nose as my toes made contact with the warm sand.

The beach was quiet, tranquil. The only lives stretched across the vast bed of dust were a few surfers, far out at sea, bobbing over the low-tide waves. I had a favourite spot: far enough back that the dunes block out any pre existing noise from town, but close enough to the ocean that the waves crashing is still prominent in my ears. Laying my blanket, I rested my shoes on two opposite corners to weigh it down, along with my basket on another.

Coming to the beach in the evenings was always one of my favourite things to do. Whether I'm walking, swimming, surfing, sunbathing - it didn't matter. It was nice to have moments like this to myself. Not even to think, just to be. Exist. Live for the moment. My mind wasn't empty, but it was blank in a sense. Anything I saw was painted into my mind, overcoming the thoughts and replacing it with peaceful images. It was almost an escape.

I reached down into the basket and pulled out Eddie, tucking him into my lap as I also took an envelope. Carefully, I it tore open and pulled out the letter - that familiar feeling of Harry's paper in between my fingers again. As I unfolded the paper, my eyes took position at the top of the letter.

My heart fluttered slightly in happiness as his warm, comforting voice read the letter aloud in my mind. If that letter is from Toronto, and earlier I read the letter from San Fransisco, these next two letters span across 11 days. Being totally honest, I'm shocked he's even found the time to write me once, let alone 4 times. Taking my phone from my pocket, I go onto my music and press shuffle on Harry's album, trying to identify the song that came on.

'2, 3, 4...' he began to sing, the mellow sound of guitars assumably played by Mitch filling the void between the waves and I. I shuffled down my blanket, lying my head back and looking up at the subtle blue sky above me. 'Meet me in the hallway...' the song went on, giving me a sense of security hearing Harry's voice so close to me. Grains of sand in voyage with the wind skimmed my shins - the rougher sensation reminding me where I was as I got lost in the music. My eyes slowly closed, a deep breath of relaxation leaving my body as I lay. Eddie was hugged close to my chest, the faint smell of tobacco and vanilla catching my nose when the breeze stopped for a few brief moments.