It Does Not Do To Dwell On Dreams (Drarry)

A New World

Harry settled his arms behind his head, eyes observing the clouds as they moved gradually across the sunny summer sky. Each fleecy spectacle took on a form of his imagination, permitting his heart to investigate his mind in more ways than he had ever allowed it before. Among the shapes, he witnessed flowers, faces, and even a dragon form in front of his very eyes. Each celestial picture lulled him into a more profound feeling of relaxation.

The sun, and the canopy of clouds, made for the most excellent sunbathing weather. It had been a couple of months since the war had ended, the wizarding world being suitably safe for the first time in decades, and Harry still hadn't truly gotten over the feeling of having nothing to do. Relaxing always seemed off-limits, pleasure others were permitted but not himself. Since the moment he had found out that he was a wizard on that stormy night, he had been thrown straight into the deep end with knowledge of his existence and destiny being packed into his brain with every gaze that met his scar. 7 years later, to have available time felt unbelievable. It was essentially as if his main objective in life was over, and now he had to find smaller ones to fill it; like completing a video game and being left with the side quests.

Harry looked up as the front door of The Burrow shot open behind him, the form of Mrs Weasely appearing into view and blocking the sunlight that heated his skin in the most pleasant way. She smiled down at him with affectionate eyes, she could see how he was struggling, two steaming cups of what he could smell to be coffee in hand. With a grunt Harry pushing himself up, accepting the drink from her, a nod in thanks, as she summoned a garden chair over by her wand and took a seat.

"Morning, my dear." She greeted.

"Morning Molly," Harry smiled, taking a long sip of his drink with a content hum. The temperature of the liquid-filled his body like a hot water bottle, broadcasting along his nerves and embracing his internal organs lovingly. "How did you know I was out here?"

Mrs Weasely laughed, an eyebrow elevated in the air. "Harry, you have been doing the same thing for the last two weeks you've been here. Can't condemn you though, the weather is beautiful at this time of year."

"It really is." Harry acknowledged, as he gazed up to the sky and allowed the rays of golden light to heat his face. "It's really nice actually, getting to slow down and enjoy uncomplicated things like the weather. You know?"

"Oh, Harry." She smiled. "I absolutely do. I still can't quite believe I am back home. Don't get me wrong, Grimmauld Place was pleasant once we did it up a bit, but there is nothing quite like being around your own cosy home comforts."

Harry's eyes dropped to the floor, he abruptly felt very sluggish. He ran his finger around the rim of his mug, eyes following as the liquid inside swished with the subtle movement. "That was the one thing I had going for me, and only me in the war. Travelling was more manageable on me than it was on Ron or Hermione. They both had to vacate their place of comfort, I just had to push on to my next. "

"Harry, dear." Mrs Weasley said, tilting forward in her seat to lay a hand on his collar. "You do know you forever have a place here, don't you?"

"Of course I do." Harry grinned, allowing his cheek to fall somewhat towards where Molly's hand rested. The affection she gave him induced butterflies in his abdomen, the equivalent he would get when he would spend time imagining his own mother. "And I appreciate it, but it's not the same."

"So, what do you want?" Molly asked, sinking back in her chair again, and swallowing the last of her coffee. Her gaze flew the length of Harry's body, recognising that the boy seemed a bit twitchy at the question. Did he know? Had he ever let himself dream while being so close to death? "Your responsibility is over Harry, you can start constructing a life for yourself now."