I sat there, my legs hanging over the side of the wall in the Burrow's yard, swinging them slightly. It was coming close to Christmas (well, not really but it was something to look forward to) and undoubtedly everyone was excited. There was constant chatter around the house, and this yard was the only escape. An escape was welcome.
"You'll be fine Harry."
"Don't worry, honestly."
"It's all okay love."
That was what all of the Weasleys were saying, in an attempt to cheer me up from the separation.
But the most helpful of all the advice and support because of my dreary and sad state came from Hermione.
"Harry!" She had said, "Stop moping! Get up and ready. Stop walking around here like someone has died! He just isn't here. You have to understand that."
I had looked at her with big doe eyes, a silent plea to stay in my Chudley Canons pyjamas.
"Harry, Draco isn't here. And he's not going to be. You have to accept it."
It had worked, I had managed to get up, but hadn't improved my mood much.
I didn't want to be away from him. But I had no choice. It was out of my hands.
The Cornish countryside was slightly frostbitten, this early in the morning. The sky was clear and the sunlight watery, making the temperature drop. The flowers had drooped, bowing their heads, as they were forlorn. As was I.
"He's not coming back. Not now." I said to myself, desperately pleading with my conscience.
"He's away. Away."
I blew on my hands, rubbing them together in a feeble attempt to warm them up. Should've worn a sodding coat.
I sat in silence, missing it. Us.
I heard some footsteps in the distance, crunching on the icy grasses and frozen leaves.
It came back to me.
YOU ARE READING
August
Fanfiction//DRARRY// It's summer. Summer 1998. Harry Potter has decided to stay at Hogwarts for summer, until his accommodation is sorted- and to catch up on school work. And he's not alone- many other eight years including Hermione stayed. But he still feel...
