citrine

opal

He would do anything to have that with her. Harry would even leave his home in the woods to be with her, to be where she would be happiest. He'd do anything to live that life with her.

But how is he supposed to tell her that?

Harry can't even imagine what it would be like to tell her he's a witch, first off. Then to add on top of it, that they were destined to be together because "the stars say so". And—get this!—they had to basically get witch married or they would both experience intense highs and lows in emotion, that would over time scar them, emotionally and physically, if gone on too long. How is he supposed to say that?

Who's to say she'll even ever come back? What if she doesn't feel it in the same way he does? Or if she felt it at all? Harry doesn't even know how to contact her, let alone find her. Now, he just hopes that she'll somehow find her way back to him.

Harry knows he's not going to be able to sleep tonight.

—————

Harry's fucking suffering.

It's been almost two weeks since he's seen (Y/N), and he can't fucking take it. He doesn't know if it's just because he now knows what it's like to be with her, so being without her feels extra awful and he's just being dramatic. But, then again, there's been some new developments in his magic that makes him feel like he's not just being dramatic.

Most days, he'll wake up and his usually vibrant garden will be so overrun with weeds that he'll have to spend all morning carefully zapping out, or the already winding vines growing up his trellis would twist their way through his windows and overflow onto his ceiling inside. He's been having problems with accidentally changing the paint on his house as well. He's changed his usually cheery, pastel yellow paint to a bright cherry red (he thinks he might have been mad at Bonnie when that happened), a magenta (he was washing his clothes when this came about so he doesn't really know what happened there), and this deep, dreary blue he wasn't a big fan of (he thinks he was sad and thinking about (Y/N) when that came about). Then there's the whole issue of the fact that sometimes he'll unknowingly summon all of the wildlife within a five mile radius to him. It wasn't that bad, really, but some of them liked to stick around; a deer had even decided that his bed was now her bed and she slept there for a full five hours before leaving, a rival mountain lion had picked a fight with Bonnie, and little Dandelion was pushed into hiding in the garden till this hungry bear left. None of them seemed to bother Harry himself, always either ignoring him or being drawn to him as the more tame animals are. It's just not really convenient; none of it is.

And he's just sad.

He misses her. So much. Even if all the weird little things weren't going on, the fact that he misses her so much was punishment enough. If he lets himself go too long without a task to concentrate on, he feels himself slip. It's a deeper sadness than he thought it was possible to even feel. It's a feeling of isolation, and Harry never feels isolated. Sure, he's felt lonely, but being surrounded with all of the life around him would serve as a reminder that he wasn't alone. Now, if he doesn't keep himself in check, he forgets everything around him. He hates it. The only thing that breaks him out of it is her.

Although he's not able to physically be with her or embrace her energy, he's found a way to see her. Harry knows it's kind of (really) creepy, unethical, and probably illegal in most Wiccan circles, but he needed this; without it he's sure he was on the edge of turning into that crazy, mountain man people tell stories about around campfires.

On a particularly cold, lonely night (even Dande had wandered off and Bonnie was missing) Harry found himself by the edge of the creek. He was laid out on his tummy, his head peeking over the cutoff of the land. His fingers were dipping into the light current, conjuring up the smallest of vortexes and floating beads out of the river and letting them drop back in. (Y/N) had been on his mind, replaying each moment he had with her in his head and daydreaming of what it would be like the next time he sees her. He laid his cheek against the earth, his eyes closing as he wondered about what it is she could be doing in that moment. He submerged his hand into the current up to the wrist, wiggling his fingers about to try and ground him to this moment. Suddenly, the image of her in his mind became vivid, as if it were a movie. The current beneath his hand stopped, the water coming to a standstill. Harry raised his head back up, looking to see what it was that had shifted in the area. Looking towards the once flowing river, now it sat still with a translucent picture on the edge closest to him.