❝I'd gladly take chocolate brown - deep mesmerizing ones at that - to be my favorite colour even if I wish to hate her.❞
in which,
fearing the predictions of a seer,
harry potter seeks out the
protection of various
lucky charms to
improve his life
...
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The air was heavy with the weight of a history tainted by misfortune. Light filtered through the windows, but all they did was cast booing shadows across the worn, threadbare rug. The silence was suffocating, but for some sadistic reason, Harry was enjoying it.
He felt like a dark cloud had settled over him, casting a tremendous shadow that no amount of sunshine could penetrate. The only pastel thing left in the entire room was the pink teddy bear he had won during the fair - yet another reminder of his regrets. The journey from St Mungos to Grimmauld Place had left him utterly drained to ponder about it any longer. In addition, there was the dull pain in his chest.
Harry knew he had no right to feel possessive or even be feeling something for her, but his heart couldn't help but ache with the realization that he wanted her undivided attention. Jealousy, an emotion he rarely allowed himself to acknowledge, crept into his thoughts, leaving him wrestling it with such emotional intensity that threatened to ruin his energy levels.
"Harry?!"
The boy sighed. And then there was a terrifyingly mad Ron and a disastrously concerned Hermione.
"Just leave me alone, Hermione." Harry mumbled into the pillow he was clutching to his face.
"Who the ruddy hell even tells Kreacher to keep pillows in this room?"
"It's a bedroom, Ronald. What do you expect, a microwave?"
"A what?"
"A Muggle instrument that you don't have to mind -"
"Wavermac?"
"Honestly, Ronald-"
"Honestly, you two!" He had had enough. "I appreciate you guys trying to cheer me up but that's definitely gonna work as much as the elder wand did for Voldemort, so I'd really appreciate it if you could leave me alone to rot in misery!" The exclamation was followed by a painful silence, which was suddenly interrupted by a shrill yelp. Harry's senses kicked in, and he tried to take an en garde which only resulted him in landing on his knee. There was a sudden pop and Kreacher showed up, looking more relaxed than he ought to.
"Master Wheezy and Miss Granger, I was ordered to take yous to Master Wheezy's place."
"By whom-?" Hermione was cut short as a squeal escaped her throat when Kreacher grabbed her hand and the helm of Ron's robes. The aging elf gave Harry a smile before he disappeared with a pop, leaving an empty space in the room. Harry briefly wondered if his life was even under his control or not.
"FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR!" It was Mrs Black's portrait. That was for sure, but the real question was who was she shouting at.
Just as he considered assessing his capacity to use non-verbal and wandless magic, the door swung open; and, for a second, Harry felt his heart stop. Beautiful red hair and even mesmerized brown eyes that enthralled him. It was her.
