when the time comes

Dementors

"We're not stupid, you know," says Uncle Vernon.

"Well, that's news to me," says Harry, his annoyance rising, and before the Dursleys can call him back, he wheels about, crosses the front lawn, steps over the low garden wall and strides off up the street.

His thoughts go back to the many birthday cards he got on his birthday, leaving the ones from Hermione, Ron and Sirius unopened. They are none of his business and he doesn't care for them. Any love he might've once harboured for them is now gone.

His face lit up when he read the card on the 31st of July; the card sent by his mate, Cedric Diggory.

Harry still can't believe that the Hufflepuff is alive, that he survived. He still has nightmares of Cedric's death, fright that he might wake up to find him gone. It's then that his letters turn frantic, almost crazed. Only with reassurances are his fears quelled, which brings him to his current anxious thoughts. Cedric hasn't sent any letters in the past week! Usually his mate's replies come in one day to two days intervals. Has his letter been caught? If so then by who? Who would intercept his letter? Furthermore, Cedric hasn't been replying to his telepathic messages either. Is Cedric somehow angry with him? But that couldn't be right.

Harry picks up his pace, that turns into a small sprint. His thoughts travel over to Sirius and those letters he did read. He scoffs and rolls his eyes.

Well, thinks Harry, as he crosses Magnolia Crescent, turns into Magnolia Road and heads towards the darkening play park, I have done as Sirius advised, albeit reluctantly. He has at least resisted the temptation to tie his trunk to his broomstick and set off for Diagon by himself.

In fact, Harry thinks his behaviour has been very good considering how frustrated and angry he feels at being stuck in Privet Drive so long, reduced to hiding in flowerbeds in the hope of getting away from those dimwitted muggles. Nevertheless, it was quite galling to be told not to be rash by a man who had served twelve years in the wizard prison, Azkaban, escaped, attempted to commit the murder he had been convicted for in the first place, then gone on the run with a stolen hippogriff...

It makes his blood boil with fury. Fury that stems from deep within. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to calm down.

Harry vaults over the locked park gate and sets off across the parched grass. The park is as empty as the surrounding streets. When he reaches the swings he sinks on to the only one that Dudley and his friends have not yet managed to break, coils one arm around the chain and stares blankly at the ground.

He misses Cedric, he craves the brunette's touch and his kisses. The only comfort he can relish in is the fact that Cedric is alive and healthy, the question now is for how long will that be the case? Dumbledore could strike at any moment, Harry can lose Cedric at any moment. He knows he promised his lovely mate to not baby or shelter him so much. But it's hard not to. Harry knows Cedric can keep himself safe, he knows... Is it wrong of him to want to keep Cedric out of the war? His eyes open again... When did he close them? Why is he suddenly feeling so hopeless again? How are Theo and Natalie now? Are they living with Tom or are they at their previous homes? Harry supposes there is only one way to find out.

"Hey, Tom?"

He waits a short while in a choking silence, a lump builds in his throat until he can't swallow. Only then does he realise he's crying. His hand shifts up to furiously wipe at his eyes. Why is he crying?

"What's the matter now brat? And quit that whimpering." There is no bite in the words just the general concern a parent would show. Harry chokes on a mix of a sob and a laugh. Fuck feelings! "I wanted to know if Natalie and Theo are living with you. Theo hasn't mentioned anything in his letters."