𝗷𝗮𝗻𝗲, harry potter

˗ˋ 27

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
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-: fourth year :-

── IN WHICH HE REMEMBERS
OTHERS AND CRINGES

. . .

After the busyness of his new friendship with Jane and despite his constant reminders of the life he was so comfortable with (that also contrasted greatly with the freedom that was gifted to him by that very girl), Harry had completely forgotten to actually remain in contact with them.

And so, having returned from saying his goodnights and making promises for the next day with Jane then listening to his aunt rant about Flora for at least half an hour only to be sent up to his room with no dinner, Harry retrieved a bottle of ink, a quill and several scrolls of parchment and finally wrote replies to the most recent letters he had recieved from Sirius, Ron and Hermione.

They weren't destined to be long letters at all - his two best friends and godfather hadn't exactly been writing essays of information in their's and Harry was planning on replying in a similar way.

But for some reason, he couldn't quite figure out what to write. Over the three summers previous, he had gotten pretty good at writing something to keep their worries at bay. There were times were he just so happened - totally by accident - had slipped information in that helped him get away from Number 4 Privet Drive, but this was different.

There was no boring continuous drivel of a schedule that he had to keep to, nothing that he could tell them about that didn't have Jane written all over. He was out of the house before the last of the three Dursleys had woken, and came home as late as possible. For once in his life away from Hogwarts, it was actually exciting.

He couldn't quite decipher his own, complicated thoughts and that was proving to be his downfall. Should he tell Ron, Hermione and Sirius about the girl who had saved him from drifting into a pit of fear, questioning and despair?

Telling Ron was obvious, there was no question about it. And he was close with Hermione, of course he was, but their friendship was different from that with the youngest Weasley son. And Harry had never talked to Sirius about anything girl related, and the idea of it rather embarassed him.

"What do you think?" Harry glanced over at Hedwig, the snowy owl snoozing after being away on a several-day long hunt. She was doing that a lot these days - Harry wasn't cooped up in his room, so why should she? "Should I ask Sirius for adv.. no that just sounds stupid." He sighed, pushing up the bridge of his glasses in an action he usually associated with the ginger-haired girl.

A hand reached to run through his hair - it was still rather long and just another testament to how little he was around his aunt. She would've cut it off, given the chance, and it would be far too short.

The slight excitement from that twinge of rebellion echoed in Harry's stomach stubbornly. It was getting a little long - perhaps he could ask Jane to help him. She had mentioned helping little kids with their hair at the home she was in.

That thought was what pushed him to actually put the nib of the grey quill to parchment, writing out quick, very simialr letters to Ron and Hermione. Then, on the bottom of Ron's he added a small postscript.

p.s. I'm betting that you'll think I made this up, but I've met someone. A girl. She's really nice. Reminds me a lot of everyone else and she's made this summer go better than expected. Don't worry about me at the Dursleys, I'm barely even here anymore.

p.p.s. She's real, I swear. Her name is Jane Everleigh and she was fostered by Florence Adley - ask your mum if she's heard of her, or a Madam Vera who runs a clothing store around here. They're both witches.

He sat back in his chair, hoping it didn't sound as bad as he thought it did. A thought struck him and he reached around for the small box he had managed to smuggle into the house with him, clutched it unfortunately hard as Aunt Petunia was spouting her nonsense.

Inside, the bun's icing had squished against the indentation where Harry had held it a little too tightly. It was a shame, he thought as he swiped up the colourful sugar with his finger and ate it. Then, he turned to the still somehow perfect treacle tart and tucked in.

By the time he had packed up Ron and Hermione's letters into addressed envelopes, the room had a sweet smell to it and crumbs were spread everywhere - the pastry had been rather crumbly.

He was still debating what to tell Sirius as he began his letter, going through the usual process of claiming that everything was fine, like his sleep wasn't plagued by nightmares of a graveyard and flashing green spells, of still bodies and chanting crowds as Cedric lay there lifeless.

I haven't done anything rash. He finally came to the end of the senseless promises and claims and onto what he couldn't help but cringe at as he wrote. I haven't had the ability to, there's this girl who I've spent the days with. She's nice and really pretty and I really wish I could talk to you in person about this because it's a lot more awkward writing it.

I'm not sure how to feel about her. I like her, really like her. But I just don't know if that's right or how I'm supposed to feel. Harry wanted to throw himself out of the window in front of him at this point, he was a teenage boy and this just so happened to be the most embarassing thing that he had lived through since his collapsing episodes in face of Dementors.

I spend my time with her, so I can't get into trouble, so don't worry. But (and I am assuming) that you would have some advice? And I could really use some advice.

- Harry

Harry felt his insides twist and turn and he was very close to letting Hedwig use the letter as lining for the bottom of her cage.

p.s. I told her about my godfather called Sirius. You were on muggle news, y'know? She recognised the name immediately, talking about some murderer that broke out of prison. And she thinks Hogwarts is a really weird boarding school. She knows Astronomy though - and it's not just that she knows a lot about.

I was never that good at Astronomy. It was always too late, but now I know that Sirius is, ironically, the dog star. Canis Major, brightest star in the night sky.

I think she might ask me to go stargazing soon. And I might freak out a bit. Don't laugh.

Harry finally packed it away in an envelope and wrote the address quickly, sending it off with Hedwig before he could change his mind.

His own words echoed back to him as he climbed into bed, eyes on the open window he had been sat in front of and the light of the moon that merged with the amber glow of the street lamp a couple metres away from the house.

He really wished he could've said that in person.

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