From The Dining Table [H.S]

I Moved On

no perspective

Harry and Primrose were both equally dissatisfied with the time they had together. The 3 months were the best yet the quickest of their relationship so far. Even through the brutal truth that their relationship wasn't perfect, the tears, the yelling and the accidental bruising left upon her wrist, Primrose still loved Harry. And, despite her constant affirmation that she wasn't mad at him, she had forgiven him and that all was well...

Harry washed his hands in the guilt every day.

When the morning came for him to leave for tour again, he was reluctant to go: not because he wanted to stay with her - which he did - but more from the fear. Every time he left her, something bad happened.

He still hasn't forgiven himself for leaving her in that bar, nor has he forgiven himself for not pushing harder for her to tour with him.

The guilt drowned him.

Before he could control it into the simple yet constant act of washing his hands in it, Harry drowned over and over again until he was numb to the pain.

Yes, there is the mutual understanding that Harry has to tour for his job, and Primrose knows it isn't Harry's fault that these things happen whilst he's gone - to her, they are more unfortunate events.

But Harry became defeated by his lack of protection over her, knowing that as he loved Primrose more and more every day, he would have to accept the self hatred that grew alongside it.

The morning he left was unusually cold for March, sending chills down Harry's spine as he awaited Primrose at the front door. She was busy as always in the bar, preparing for the busy day that lay ahead. A smile grew upon his cheeks as he admired her with pride at just how hard she works and just how far she's come in life.

The faint hum of a car engine grinding to a slow halt pierced through the picturesque moment, reminding Harry that he had to leave. A sigh tumbled from his mouth, his head falling slightly to look at the deep wood beneath his feet enclosed by the protection of his trusted white vans. Eyelashes of deep black batted together - the only movement from his body as he mentally prepared for yet another heart-wrenching goodbye.

When his head rose to meet the room again after a few short seconds, he minorly jumped at Primrose's presence in front of him. She smiled, which made him smile, yet they both painted utterly different pictures: he smiled with defeat and inevitable sadness, but she smiled with triumph and volume.

"I'll see you soon, H." Primrose speaks with assurance, stepping closer to rest her hand against his coat sleeve. "You'll get swept up in the fun of it all, having the time of your life, and before you know it you'll be home to me again." She tried to remind him that he loved going on tour, which he knew he did, he just struggled to actually leave for it.

Leaving one thing you love for another is a lot harder than it looks.

Harry felt defeated as he flattened his smile into a line, nodding his head. He knew she was right. As his head bobbed up and down, up and down, each time his loose curls bounced off his forehead. His hair was much longer than it was when he first went on tour, but he enjoyed it longer; it meant there was more for Primrose to play with.

"I'll call you as soon as I land in Switzerland." Harry made a promise, knowing it would ease P to know he'd gotten there safely. Her hand fell limply from his arm as she commenced to enclose his body in a hug, squeezing him as tight as she could through all his layers as he knew it would be the last time for a while.

"You'd better." Primrose teased, lifting the moods as Harry exhaled a laugh. She smiled with volume and spoke with triumph because she knew she had to be excited for the both of them. Harry was so protective over her that if she let him, he would easily cancel tour to stay with her.