Harry Potter Things

Punishment and Pleasures 6

He's not here.

The irritability I feel over my own clumsiness dissipates as quickly as it washed over me and is at once replaced with an intense feeling emptiness.

He's not here. Harry's not here.

There's a thick lump in my throat and turning on my heel, I push through a group of college students and practically flee the coffee shop.

Outside, I stop and force myself to take a deep breath.

It doesn't make me feel any better. There isn't anything that could make me feel any better. I feel miserable.

What's the point of life?

I look down at my white dress shirt and it's splattered with brown coffee stains.

Sigh.

Tears prick my eyes and I blink furiously.

I want to cry, I want to cry, I need to cry.

I will not burst into tears in the middle of a busy London street. I will not.

I take another deep breath. My hands are still shaking. I clench them into fists again but it doesn't stop them from trembling.

I feel tense. It seems every muscle in my body has suddenly decided to cramp up and I force myself to head back towards Diagon Alley.

I pull my cardigan tighter around me to cover up the stains on my shirt and take the opportunity to cross my arms in front of my chest. My hands are still shaking and I don't have the energy to stop them.

I don't have the energy to keep walking. Every step feels like a drain of resources I don't have. I feel dizzy and lightheaded. I have a pounding headache I can't explain.

He's not here. He's not here. He's not here.

The words resonate in my head and I feel an inexplicable anxiousness settle in the centre of my chest. It claws at my heart, forcing it to beat slower than it should.

I try to focus on my breathing but taking deep breaths and making sure I don't walk off the pavement and right in front of one of those rolling Muggle contraptions is too much to handle. I try to remember what Harry calls them but I draw a blank and decide not to focus on anything at all.

I walk right past the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, curse under my breath, and turn around.

It takes me three attempts before I have the energy to push the door open and step inside.

Why have they put in such a heavy door? Don't they want customers?

The dim light inside the pub confuses me and I momentarily can't remember why I came here in the first place.

I look around and feel lost. I try to concentrate but my brain isn't functioning the way it should. Nothing is functioning the way it should. I'm not functioning.

I shouldn't feel this way. What's wrong with me?

This isn't the aftermath of last night's insomnia.

Am I coming down with something?

I don't feel hot like I have a fever but I do feel achy. And it's not the good kind of achy.

The kind of pain I feel when Harry takes care of me, that's wonderful and special and intense. What I feel now is a terrible kind of pain. A crampy kind of ache that just won't go away. It's nauseating and I want to throw up.

Fuck, I need you, Harry.

I don't know where I find the energy to make a mad dash to the bathrooms, but I do. I stumble into one of the stalls and forcing the toilet lid up, I lean forward and brace myself on the wall in front of me.