Reconciliation
True reconciliation does not consist of merely forgetting the past
-Nelson Mandela

The alarm clock went off; its continuous beeping forcing me to walk across the room and turn it off. I was reluctant to drag myself from the confines of my bed, as it only signified the start of another day, exactly the same as the thousands I had already seen.

I tried to fall asleep again, but the monotonous beeping was doing its job well. Grumbling, I pushed back the covers, and recoiled against the cold that rushed to my legs. I walked across the room and turned off my alarm, glad for the immediate silence that followed, before I slowly walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

The warmth the shower provided was bliss, rippling down my body, numbing me with its warmth and revitalising my senses. My hair cascaded down my back; the lavender scent of the shampoo relaxed me. The sound of the water hitting the bottom of the shower was calming, like listening to rain from your bed on a Saturday morning.

Somewhere in the distance, as if from another world, I heard the telephone. I quickly turned off the shower ran to my bedroom, where the phone was on its last ring. I grabbed it, already mad with the person for interrupting the one time of day when I could relax.

‘Hello?’ I said grumpily.

‘Hannah? Is that you?’

For a second I forgot. For just a second I didn’t remember who I was, who I was supposed to be. But then I realised who it was and answered, trying to sound normal.

‘Of course it’s me, Gee-Gee. Who else would it be?’

‘I don’t know, Han....anyway, that’s not why I called. Are you doing anything this week?’

‘Not much. The shop’s closed over Christmas, and the Turners are going away,’ I said, going through my schedule in my head.

‘Oh. Well, one of my waitresses is going away, and our part-timer has broken her leg. I was wondering whether you could fill in for a few days, if you weren’t busy at the ‘Nook,’ Gina said, using her pet name for my bookshop, the Book Nook.

‘Sure, Gee. You know I’m always glad to help you out.’

‘Thankyou so much, Han!! I’ll see you at ten!!’ she squealed, before noisily hanging up the phone, leaving me to listen to the dull beep of the dial tone.

Wondering what on earth I’d just agreed to, I proceeded to get dressed, as standing around with no clothes on had left me feeling quite cold. I picked out a casual outfit; my tight blue jeans, a black singlet top, and my black strappy shoes with kitten heels. I quickly put on some concealer, mascara and lip gloss, before grabbing my silver necklace and a banana and running out the door.

Muggles don’t know how easy they have it, I thought to myself as I walk casually through London, watching other people around me; some in cars, their mind on work, young mothers, ambling towards the park with prams, teens skateboarding or walking around with shopping bags, gossiping, not a care in the world.

This is my world now. It seems so much easier than the world I used to know, and yet I still miss the one I left behind.

I crossed the road, smiling slightly as a man about my age going in the opposite direction tried to catch my eye, and the man in the car to my right honked the horn. I’ve still got it, I thought to myself, before reaching the other side of the road and continuing my walk.

I turned another corner and arrived on an upmarket street, with lots of fancy restaurants and posh clothing stores. The sidewalks were dotted with trees and rubbish bins, and the whole street seemed to sparkle; everything from the newly polished cars to the shop windows gleamed with cleanliness.

Passing a few expensive shops, I reached a cute little restaurant, with a glowing red sign above the door telling me I had arrived at Gina’s.

I pushed open the door, and the sound of quiet talk and some classical background music reached my ears. The couple at the table nearest the door turned their heads to see who had just come in, but quickly lost interest when they didn’t recognise me. I wasn’t surprised they didn’t know me. No-one who ate in a place like that would.

I walked across the main part of the restaurant, trying to ignore the looks people gave me when they saw my casual clothes. When I finally reach the kitchen door and pushed it open, I was relieved more than anything that there were people in there that looked like me; like they had actually got their clothes in a normal shop, unlike the people who I had just left in the restaurant.

A figure raced up to me, holding a black bundle in her arms, which she put on a chair then gave me a fierce hug.

‘Thankyou so much, Hannah,’ she exclaimed. ‘I don’t know how we would have survived without you.’

‘No problem,’ I said, smiling, but gasping for air. ‘But would you let me go now, Gee-Gee?’

‘Sorry,’ she said apologetically. ‘Just put this apron thing on, grab a notepad and pen, and then you can get started. Just holler if you need anything.’

‘I’ll remember that,’ I said pleasantly, before forcing the apron over my curly hair, grabbing a notepad off the bench, and hurrying into the quiet restaurant.

I spent the majority of the next few hours walking quickly between the kitchen and various tables in the restaurant. Between these hurried walks, I was constantly harassed by the customers, who seemed to think I didn’t mind their constant criticisms and complaints, or their complete lack of manners. By the time my shift was over, I didn’t blame the waitresses for calling in sick.

I looked at my watch. It was nearly five. I could hardly believe I’d been there for seven hours. Walking into the kitchen, I pulled off the staff apron, trying not to let my shirt go off with it. I found Gina, gave her a quick hug, and then set off for home.

By the time I reached my small townhouse, my legs were aching from standing up all day. It’s all that I could do to stop myself from collapsing on the front step. Opening the front door, I stumbled into the lounge room, fell onto the couch, and went straight to sleep.

---

I sit on the couch, watching the commotion that is Christmas unfold. Children squeal and run around as they exclaim over their presents. A blur on a broom zooms over our heads, knocking over ornaments and making Fleur scream. Delicious smells of holidays fill the room; turkey, chicken, ham, pudding, fruit cake, brandy butter, and Mrs Weasley’s famous raspberry ice-cream.

Dinner begins. An extravaganza of food, the likes of which I’ve never seen. Mountains of food reach up to the ceiling, and I am overcome by the amazing smells. I look around at the people closest to me, like a huge family, sitting around one table. Except one. Harry, as usual, is off trying to make the world a better place. And he’s missing Christmas because of it.

Many minutes later, when the plates have all been licked clean, and our robes are feeling a little tighter than normal, we begin to tidy up and leave. It’s now when the hugging begins. Friends hugging friends, Mothers hugging daughters, Fathers hugging sons. I see Bill pick his small daughter up off the couch where she has long since fallen asleep. Fleur walks up to him and wraps her arms around his strong shoulders. Ron hugs Molly. Fred hugs Ginny. Everyone has someone to hug.

Except me.

But suddenly there is. Out of nowhere there comes a figure, a shadow in the night. His husky voice calls out my name, and in a quiet voice I say his. He’s not the one I want, but he’s someone to hold on this cold winter’s night, when the others have left me alone. He wishes me a Merry Christmas, and I return the favour before he hastily pulls me into his strong arms.

His muscles are enormous waves, hard as rocks as I slide my hand over them. He has grown since I last saw him. He runs his fingers through my mane which some might call hair, and I ask him how he is. He replies, telling me he could be better.

Before I know it, his lips have been thrust onto mine, and his hand is supporting my head. The kiss is passionless; it brings out no feeling inside me but a burning ache that tells me I have to break free. I struggle against him, but his arms hold me tight, and I am unable to move. I pull my lips from his, only to have them connected once more. I hear the front door creak open.

‘I’m home everyone! Merry Chris-’

I hear the footsteps stop, and the man that has been holding me so tightly finally lets go. I slowly turn my head to face the man at the door, who is simply standing there, shocked to the core. I go to call out his name, but he is already out the front door. I run after him, before I hear a resounding crack that means that he is gone. I fall to my knees and call his name into the night, but there is no-one to hear me except the ice and snow that has caught me, holding me still in its cold embrace.

---

First Chapter!!!!!!!!! Yay! Or Neigh? Let me know. See you next chapter!

chlo
xoxoxo

PS. None of it belongs to me. End of story.

At First Sight
Talent is formed in quiet retreat
Character in the headlong rush of life
-Goethe

That day was always going to be different. From the moment I woke up, I had this peculiar feeling in the pit of my stomach, and for a few seconds I wondered what it was. But then I realised. I was excited.

I had no idea why- I was patrolling that day. And though patrolling was always interesting-the things you can find out about people when you’re a policeman! It was pretty much guaranteed that after an hour or two you were going to get very bored, and that day was probably going to be no different.

I got up, half-made the bed, and then walked down to the kitchen. I wasn’t going anywhere until I’d had a good breakfast. I thought I’d start with bacon, eggs, and maybe some orange juice. But after I’d reached the kitchen and searched the cupboards and fridge and found nothing but some porridge and half a tin of baked beans, my hopes for a good day were starting to fade away.

A few hours later, nothing much had changed. My stomach was growling, and my legs ached from walking around all morning. The neighbourhood I was patrolling wasn’t particularly interesting either. A whole lot of fancy cars and stores; their upmarket owners lounging around in their air-conditioned cafés. It didn’t seem as if there were going to be a lot of robberies, pub brawls, or gang warfare around there.

I turned off the main street into a shadowy back lane to get away from the sun. Rubbish bins lined the dusty road, crates of yesterday’s uneaten food. A stray cat streaked across the path, followed by a small boy who looked homeless. It made me sad, seeing things like that, and made me think of how lucky I was.

Somewhere along the street, I heard the sound of a door creaking. Someone was coming out the back of one of the shops or restaurants that lined the main road. I could hear something else as well. The person was singing.

As I walked closer to the voice, I started to hear snatches of the song.

“You don’t know the whole story,
Don’t be too quick to judge,
The person that’s inside me,
The girl that you once loved.”

A crow in a tree overhead called, its low throaty voice filling the air and blocking out the song that had entranced me, leading me towards the woman that was singing. Then I heard her again.

“You know that I am sorry,
For what I did to you.
But all the pain you’re feeling,
I’m feeling it too.”

I went round a small bend in the road, my eyes searching, my ears alert for any noise. I was about to give up, thinking that she had probably gone back inside, when I saw her.

She was quite small, her curly golden brown hair falling across her face and catching the sunlight. She wasn’t dressed expensively, just some jeans and a black tee-shirt. I was glad. I didn’t like people like that anyway. I walked towards her, suddenly very aware of how messy my hair was, how thin my face was, how my contacts were making it harder to blink.

“You’re a good singer. Who wrote that one?” I said when I was about ten metres from where she was sitting.

She looked up, surprised. When she saw me, her eyes widened, and I could feel my own doing the same. The blush that had crept to her cheeks at my comment quickly went away. She seemed so familiar. Her eyes, so inquisitive, yet so full of knowledge. So determined and brave, and yet…..she seemed so afraid.

“I didn’t realise you were there,” she said, once she got over the initial shock of seeing me. “It’s just something I made up.”

“It’s good,” I said. “You should record it or something.”

She smiled then. “As if.”

“Do you work here?” I asked. I’d have liked to see her again.

“Only for this week. I’m helping out my friend. Normally I work at my bookshop, and I baby-sit for a family in the evenings,” she said, then seemed to be angry at herself for revealing so much.

“Sounds like more fun than what I do every day,” I said, smiling. I hadn’t smiled for a long time.

She gave me a small half smile, and then shied away. She obviously wasn’t going to tell me anything else.

“I’ll see you around,” I said, turning to go. Behind me, I heard her mumble a farewell.

I kept walking down the street, with more determination in my step then there had been minutes before. As I turned the corner, I could hear her sweet voice singing.

“Because I’m half the girl
I thought myself to be.
But just know I always loved you,
And I’ll hope you still love me.”

---

Snow swirling. Wind whistling. Lights make every house seem like a fairy castle. Christmas again; that damned time every year that makes me feel like strangling carollers, and punching every pair of lovers making out behind a tree. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to bring myself to enjoy Christmas- not after what happened three years ago.

I walk along the street towards the supermarket, trying my hardest to ignore the Christmas sale signs, the lights, the music blasting from every store. All of it is such a horrible reminder, bringing back such painful memories that I can practically feel the knife that’s plunging into my heart.

That store- I bought her Christmas present in that store. I spent so long deciding, and I had it ready weeks before, and after I’d bought it, I spent the rest of the time wondering if she’d like it. Those lights- the way her hair had looked in the colourful lights, how her eyes had shone with guilt when she wrenched herself out of his arms. And the music, I’d hardly heard it then, but it had been there, and now the sound of it was tearing me apart.

It’s time to move on. But at the moment, there are too many reminders that keep plunging me into the past.

---

I know it's the shortest chapter ever, and i'm sorry. very very very sorry. but you have to let me know whether i should keep writing or not. You all make the fic-writing thing worthwhile!

see you all next chapter (maybe)(hopefully),
chlo xoxo

Bittersweet Reunion

When nothing is sure, anything is possible

-Margaret Drabble


I woke up quickly when I heard my alarm that day, not grumbling about the cold as I had done for the past two mornings. That day, the whole world seemed more beautiful, calling out to be explored. I wanted to see him again. The day before had seemed bleak before he arrived, and the one in front of me would certainly be boring if he didn’t show up.



It surprised me that I could feel so close to someone when I didn’t even know their name. Since that Christmas, I hadn’t gone out with anyone, despite my friend Gina constantly trying to hook me up with some guy or another. But that guy….I had felt a connection with him. But I had to go slow. That was how I lived now.



As soon as I got to the restaurant I set out to find Gee. I had to ask her if she knew him.



“Gee,” I said as soon as I got into the kitchen. “Have you ever seen this guy around? He’s got dark hair with light brown highlights, and um…blue-green eyes, and he’s quite skinny.”



“Why, Han?” she said, distracted. “Is he one of the customers that was giving you a hard time? Because I can’t do much about them, I’m afraid.”



“No, no. He was a policeman hanging around in the back street yesterday.”



She looked at me then. Stared at me is more accurate actually.



“Hannah Jessica George,” she said sternly, but with excitement in her voice. “You like this guy, don’t you?”



I blushed. “W-well no, not exactly….”



“You do like him. Oh, this is so great, Hannah! You’ve finally found someone!”



“I’ve only said about two words to him. He seems like he’d be a great friend, though”



“Idiot!” she said, hitting her forehead with her palm. “Why didn’t you ask for his number? If I liked a guy the way I suspect you do, that would have been the first thing I’d done.”



“But I’m not like you, Gee-Gee,” I said. “I’m not as outgoing as you. I could never ask a guy for his number.”



“No wonder you’re still single,” she said with a sigh. “Now, off to work with you!”



I grinned as she chucked the apron at me. I knew that though she seemed uninterested, she would now do whatever it took to get me with this guy, even if it took her a year. I turned and walked into the restaurant, already looking forward to my lunch break.



After my morning torture session, I walked through the kitchen and out the door into the back street. I threw my sticky apron on the dusty ground then collapsed onto the stairs, my head in my hands. I could have fallen asleep right there on the stairs, but the thought of that guy was enough temptation to keep me awake.



After half an hour, my break was over, and there was no sign of that mysterious guy. My hopes sinking, I turned and went back into the kitchen, pausing to grab my now-dusty staff apron.



When I got inside, I only just had time to catch a glimpse of Gee’s ginger hair before she almost bowled me over.



“Han…Hannah,” she gasped, out of breath. “I think…I think I saw him.”



“Saw who?” I said, knowing who it was, but half-hoping it was actually some celebrity who had just arrived in the restaurant.



She rolled her eyes. “Who do you think it was, Hannah? My Grandad? That guy, of course! In the restaurant!” She sounded more excited than the time her favourite shop had a 75% off sale.



“In…in the restaurant?” I said. I didn’t want to like someone who ate here. All of them were nothing but rich jerks. Even I could hear the disappointment in my voice, but this didn’t seem to phase Gina at all.



“Yes!” she squealed. “And I haven’t let anyone go up to him yet; I’ve been saving him for you!”



“Oh…thanks, Gee…” I said.



“No problem!” she said, obviously pleased with herself. “Now get out there!”



I grabbed my pen and notebook and shuffled nervously into the restaurant. I spotted him almost immediately, sitting by the window, looking out at the boring world that surrounded him. I walked over to his table.



“Are you ready to order, sir?” I said nervously, looking down at my notepad, so I wouldn’t have to get lost in his strange blue-green eyes.



He jumped in surprise, and then looked at me, my eyes still on my notepad, my pen poised.



“Hello again,” he said, his voice excited. “I was hoping to see you again.”



I had to look at him then. “Oh, hi. I didn’t realise it was you.”



“I didn’t introduce myself properly yesterday,” he said, sticking out his hand. “I’m James.”



James. His name was James. I could hardly breathe, but he was expecting an answer.



“I’m….I’m Hannah. Hannah George.”



“Well Hi, Hannah,” he said, smiling.



“Do you want anything to eat?” I said quickly. I just wanted to get out of there.



“I’ll have the steak. Do you want to join me?”



“Sorry, I can’t. I have to finish my shift. I’ll go and get you your lunch,” I tried to sound as sorry as I could, but on the inside I was celebrating. I really wanted to get away from him.



“One steak, please!” I yelled when I get into the kitchen, just before Gee practically jumped on me.



“Well? How did it go? Did you get his number?”



“Calm down Gee. His name’s James. That’s all I got.”



“What do you mean, that’s all you got? Get back out there!” She looked like she wanted to strangle me.



“No, Gee,” I was not going out there again. I was starting to think that the guy was stalking me. And though he seemed nice enough, I just didn’t like rich people. It was just the way I thought. And I didn’t think I was quite ready to get back on the dating scene anyway. “He’s…he’s not what I thought he was.”



She looked so disappointed when I said that, I almost felt like taking it back. “Well,” she said. “You’re going to have to go back out there. Abby’s just gone on break, so you’re on your own for half an hour.”



Her words filled me with dread. And though I really wanted to evaporate on the spot, I knew I couldn’t abandon Gee over some guy. So, when James’ steak was ready, I gathered my nerves together and stepped calmly into the restaurant.



“Thanks,” he said when I handed him his lunch. “Are you sure you won’t join me?”



“Thanks for the offer, but I really can’t. I guess I’ll see you around.”



“Wait,” he said, grabbing my arm as I turned around. “Some friends and I are going out to a club on Saturday night. Will you come with me?”



My breath caught in my throat. This was my perfect chance to get rid of him once and for all. I opened my mouth, ready to erase his hopes for ever.



“Sure. When will you pick me up?”



“Eight. See you then.”



“See you,” I said faintly, turning back towards the kitchen. What on earth had I just agreed to?

---

I sit on this chair, staring at the wall. I can’t remember what I’ve been doing. I can barely remember who I am, or why I’m here. I can remember hearing voices, so many voices. And there’s an ache in my chest that’s not going away.



What’s happened to me?



It’s as if I’m waking up for the first time. I can see colours, faces, and lights, blurring into one landscape. Someone’s telling me something, their face swims into view. It’s Ron. He looks so relieved, but still sad and worried. He wants to know how I am; I can see it in his eyes.



I don’t know what’s going on. I can’t speak, I can’t hear. My vision’s blurred, and my skin feels icy and numb. My brain is going crazy with this thirst for knowledge, but at the same time it either can’t or won’t think. I want to know what’s happened to make everyone act so strange. But then I realise.



Harry. Harry’s gone. And it’s all my fault.

---

There you go. Next, chapter 4! Let me know what you think!



Oh, and nothing belongs to me- except the story of course. I need some credit.







chlo xoxo

Brave
‘Down these mean streets a man must go who his not himself mean,
Who is neither tarnished nor afraid’
- Raymond Chandler
I was so psyched. But I was also really worried. What if she rejected me? I needed to know her. It wasn’t just that she was pretty, even though she was; she had an ethereal beauty about her that had intrigued me. But that wasn’t why I wanted to ask her out. I wanted to know about her, wanted to befriend her. She seemed to hold secrets, like her entire being was controlled by them. I didn’t even know her name.

I breathed in, then out. No need to stress. I got dressed, my casual clothes under my police jacket. But not too casual. It was quite a fancy restaurant after all. But what if she didn’t like red? No. Don’t worry about it. I had enough on my mind without worrying about my shirt colour.

As I ate my breakfast I worried about my hair. Was the gel too much? Or should I leave it in its normal, messy state? I ran my fingers through it, the gel sliming up my fingers. Disgusted, I went over to the sink and ran my head under the water until my hair felt back to normal. Rubbing it with a towel, I grabbed my briefcase and hat, and walked out the door.

At the office, I’m surprised only one person noticed how weird I was acting. When I got there, my partner Greg tilted his head and said, “Are you ok, mate? You don’t seem your usual bright, confident, arrogant self.”

That got my attention, just as he had intended it to. I punched him on the shoulder. “I’m fine. I was up all night chatting up innocent Australian tourists,” I said, obviously not telling him that I had really been up all night worrying about that afternoon when I would try to ask that girl out.

“Oh good. You’re back to normal, you sarcastic weirdo. I know you’re lying you know, because I talked to you last night, remember? When are you going to ask that girl out, anyway?”

I almost punched myself. Although I liked Greg- he was the closest thing to a best friend I’d had for years- I hadn’t meant to tell anyone about her, and made a mental note to never tell anyone else anything about my social life.

“Today, hopefully. I just hope she doesn’t reject me.”

“She won’t, mate. I would tell you that you are quite an attractive young man, but that would inflate your already oversized ego, so I won’t. But she wouldn’t reject you, because you obviously like her,” he then started batting his eyelashes. “And no one could resist your charms, Jamie.” He giggled girlishly.

“Shut up, you weirdo. I’ve got to work.”

After three hours, I was a nervous wreck. I had bitten most of my fingernails off, and I don’t think any of the reports I was meant to be filing had actually moved off my desk. Now was the time.

I stood up and took my jacket off, hanging it on the back of my chair. I saw myself in the mirror on the wall- I looked like a ghost, if ghosts had brown hair. I tried to smile, then as soon as I had I wished I hadn’t. Not only did it make me look like a sick dog, it made me feel like I was about to throw up.

Greg looked up from his desk. “You look fine, mate. Go get her!”

I gulped. As I walked out of the office and down a few blocks to the restaurant, it was as if I was walking to my own execution. As I sat down, I could almost feel the pointy ends of the weapons digging into my head, ready to fire. This was it.

A ginger-haired woman came up to my table. “Hi, Welcome to Gina’s. I’m… well, I’m Gina,” she said, giggling. “One of the waitresses will be out in a minute. I hope you have a nice lunch!” She rushed away, looking excited.

I sat there nervously, drumming my fingertips on the table top and staring absentmindedly out the window. What if a different waitress came to my table? What if she was on a break? What if I got so nervous I couldn’t say anything?

“Are you ready to order, sir?” said a quiet voice behind me.

I jumped and turned around. It was her. Oh God, she was beautiful. Her golden brown hair was pulled back into loose bun, a single curled strand falling down and framing her delicate face. She was wearing the same outfit, but with a different style of t-shirt that only showed off her thin, hourglass frame. There was a butterfly tattoo on her shoulder that I hadn’t noticed before, which seemed to have an intricate design which made it seem like it was symbolic. But it was her eyes I wanted to see, those deep emotional, secretive eyes.

“Hello again,” I said. “I was hoping to see you again.”

I’m not sure what happened after that. It’s all blurred into one embarrassing mess. All I’m aware of is finding out her name. Hannah. Hannah George. She didn’t seem too keen to talk to me, which is probably why it’s hard to remember anything. I wasn’t even aware of her leaving, then coming back with the lunch I was never going to eat.

The next thing I knew, I was asking her out, and as soon as I said it, I felt my heart sink. She was going to reject me. I could see it in the way she was holding herself, in the way her eyes were darting towards anything but me.

“Sure. When will you pick me up?” she said. I think she was even more shocked than I was. I pulled myself together as best I could.

“Eight. See you then.” I said, watching her retreating figure as she went towards the kitchen.

She said yes!

---

Sitting at the same bar in muggle London, on the same bar stool, next to the same people, and ordering the same drink as I have for the past week. The others all seem to wear the same sad, sorry expression that has been haunting my own features since last Sunday. We’re the ones who have been living on alcohol, to survive, to drive away the pain. The ones who’ve got no place to turn while the holidays have turned against us.

I lift my glass and drain the last of the drink into my dry mouth. I put it down heavily and heave myself off the stool and up the stairs to my room. I close and lock the door, then walk to the single, dirty window and shut the curtain. I turn and see something sitting on my bed. It’s my owl.

Immediately, I walk to the bed and stroke her. I’m not alone after all. After a few minutes, I notice that there’s a letter tied to her leg. Cautiously, I untie it and break the seal.

Dear Harry,
This is a letter…

My breath stops in my throat. It’s in her writing. I want to read it. So badly. But I know I can’t, because that would only get me back to where I started. And I’m in no mood to read her half-hearted apologies, swearing that it wasn’t her fault; that she didn’t mean to do it. Taking it in my hands, I rip it up and throw it into the bin that sits next to my bed.

I think I’m moving on.

---

See you next chapter




nothing belongs to me, btw


chlo xoxo

Confessions
“Truth lives on in deception”
- Johann Christoph Friedrich Schiller

The next few days were strange. I was floating in a semi-conscious state in which I knew where I was and what I was doing, but I didn’t know why, and I couldn’t seem to remember anything for more than a couple of hours. In this drifting state of mind, I dreamed. I dreamed things that I’d never allowed myself to think about before. And then when I woke up, I couldn’t remember any of it. It was as if I was going in a continuous circle, and it scared me, because I knew that once I was pulled from this cycle, I would have to face the reality of what would happen on Saturday night with James and his friends.

I still couldn’t believe that I’d said yes. It was as if when he’d asked, someone else had taken over my body, made me say that I would go with him. I certainly didn’t want to go. I was dreading it with almost every fibre of my being- not that James was a bad person, but I was afraid of what could happen. Now that I had thought about it, I knew that that was what was holding me back, keeping me from going out with him, or any of the other guys Gina had made me go out with.

I didn’t want to hurt myself again. So I had built a cocoon around myself, and locked myself away from the world.

At the restaurant, I know I seemed a bit out of whack. I saw more than a few customers giving me strange looks, and then, when they thought I couldn’t hear them, they would start talking about me, saying things like, ‘What on earth was that girl doing last night, I wonder?’, or ‘It’s a disgrace, she looks like she’s on drugs.’ I didn’t care much, because I knew they were probably right. I hadn’t been sleeping much, despite my dream-like state, which probably made me look a bit strained.

I knew Gina was worried. After I had told her about my “date”, she was so excited I thought she might explode. But when she saw my reaction to what had happened, she stopped talking about it altogether.

But that couldn’t go on, I found out as I was leaving on Friday, the day before I went out with James, and my last day working at the restaurant. I hung my apron up on the back of the kitchen door, yelled a goodbye to Gina, and had just begun to walk out the front door when I felt a hand grab my shoulder. Surprised, I turned around quickly to find Gina’s familiar face right next to mine, an expression of mindless determination on her face.

‘What’s up, Gee?’ I asked her, thinking that I’d probably just forgotten something.

‘Come with me, Hannah.’

‘Where, Gee? What’s wrong?’

‘We need to talk about some things,’ she said, and I felt a strange sense of foreboding.

‘Gee-Gee….I can’t. I’ve got stuff to do.’

‘No, Han. You’re not getting out of it this time,’ she said sternly, and with that she grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the restaurant and into her car, despite my many arguments.

Half an hour later, she pulled the car into a parked position, got out of the car, came around, and pulled me out.

‘What’s the matter, Gee? What’s so important that you have to drag me all the way out here?’ I asked as she dragged me over to a bench, and sat me down on it.

She sat down beside me, then said dangerously, ‘You tell me, Hannah, you tell me. I’ve known you five years now, but I still don’t really know you, do I? You’re just so secretive. Where do you come from, for instance? Why don’t you have any other friends or relatives apart from me? Why don’t you ever want to go out with any guys, even when you’re interested? You know everything there is to know about me. I don’t even know what your God damned favourite colour is!’ she stopped to draw breath after her outburst, and then looked back up at me.

‘I just want to know what’s going on, Hannah, and why it’s so important that you have to keep it from me.’

I took a deep breath, then exhaled. ‘You really want to know? Because you’re never going to believe me when I tell you.’

‘I don’t care. I don’t care if you were brought up by the devil in Antarctica and are secretly planning to kill me at the end of this sentence. I just want to know who you are.’

‘Ok, but get comfy, because this is going to take a while.’

And then, to my utter surprise, I told her. I told her everything. I told her about my childhood, I told her about how my life had been turned upside down when I’d been sent away to boarding school, about all the dangerous adventures I’d had with my two best friends. I told her about the brief romances I’d had at school, and how none of them had worked out. I told her about how the guy I really liked had never seemed to like me back, especially when he started going out with our other friend’s sister.

I told her about how we’d gone on our most dangerous task yet, and how we’d eventually defeated the most evil person alive, and become famous across our world. I told her about how during this time, the friend and I had become closer and closer. I told her about how he’d finally kissed me, and how we’d started going out together. I told her how I had loved him so much it felt like my heart would burst.

I told her about that night, that terrible Christmas night when everything fell apart. I told her how I’d felt like dying over what had happened. And finally, I told her about how I’d run away, how I’d changed my name and gone into hiding from everything I’d ever known.

After that, I sat there and watched her. I didn’t want to hurry her or anything. She had a lot of information to digest.

She looked up at me after a couple of minutes, taking in the features that had once seemed so familiar to her, that now had a foreign edge to them. She breathed out heavily. ‘Wow…no wonder you’re completely insane.’

We both started laughing then. The pressure had mounted so much between us that we both just needed a break, and this was it. For minutes we just sat there, laughing, and when we came down, we just sat there smiling.

‘But what am I going to do, Gee?’ I said, looking out across the empty park. ‘I can’t go out with James while I’m still in love with someone else.’

‘Han, the fact that you’re still in love with this other guy isn’t your problem. Your problem is that you don’t want to let him go. Give yourself a chance. Go out with James tomorrow, and if you can’t handle it, don’t. Just take it slow.’

‘Ok,’ I said, a thought striking me suddenly.

‘What am I going to wear?’

---

I walk slowly up the stairs, nodding my head slightly at Molly to acknowledge that I’ve seen her. I continue my slow walk until I reach Ron’s room, which I go into and cross the room to his desk where Harry’s beautiful snowy owl, Hedwig, is sitting, as if she is waiting for something.

I hear Ron stir in his sleep behind me, and hurry to tie the letter in my hand to her leg, even though I know that Harry will never read it. And how could I blame him? Why should he want to talk to me after what happened? But I have to try to reach him before I leave. I’ve got two other letters to send once this one is gone- one to my parents, and one to Ron, which I won’t send until I’m about to leave.

As I watch the pure white owl sail out of the window and off into the distance, a single tear rolls down my cheek.

From now on I’m alone

---

See you next chapter!


luv ya,
chlo xoxo



PS. Don't own any of it

Alone With You
“And for one crowded hour, you were the only one in the room
And I sailed around all those bumps in the night to your beacon in the gloom
I thought I had found my golden September in the middle of that purple June
But one crowded hour would lead to my wreck and ruin”
- ‘One Crowded Hour’, Augie March

I was nervous as I walked up her front steps. It was as if the entire world was watching as I walked in slow motion, my too-tight jeans pressing into my stomach, my socks already sweaty around my feet. My breath was short and my hands were shaking terribly as I reached out to ring the bell. Silence filled my ears as I waited for her to answer the door- I was even deaf to my immature friends honking the car horn and yelling obscenities out the window.

My heart stopped as I heard the lock click open. I hardly dared draw breath as the door knob turned, and as the door swung inwards to reveal Hannah, looking more beautiful than I’d ever seen her. Her lovely golden hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, and she was wearing a rumpled singlet top under her denim jacket, coupled with some hipster jeans and high-heeled boots. In her ears she wore gold sleepers, which matched the bangle at her wrist.

She closed and locked the door, then turned to look at me. Her eyes met mine, and I couldn’t help grinning as I was sucked into those beautiful brown orbs.

‘Hello,’ I said. ‘You’re looking lovely tonight.’

She smiled shyly, almost self-consciously. ‘Hi,’ she said, then looked past me to the almost-full car, that had started honking again when she had come out. ‘Friends of yours?’

‘But of course.’ I led her down to the car, opened the door for her, then climbed in after her. I was so happy that everything had gone so well so far.

When we arrived at the club, a crummy kind of place with bad people and good music, the owner looked up with a scowl which lightened when he noticed how many more customers he had.

We grabbed a table and ordered our first round of drinks. Everyone except Hannah, that is. Again I was struck by the fact that I knew so little about her, and added a few more questions to the list that I had made in my head. Slowly, my friends dispersed into couples and smaller groups- drinking, talking, dancing, or for some of them, making out- until it was just me, Hannah, and my work partner Greg sitting at the grimy table.

Greg struck up a conversation about some book he’d read recently, which I couldn’t really contribute to, never having read the book, or many others. Hannah, however, joined in heartily; discussing in great detail the novel’s many plot twists, and the altogether too cheesy ending. They debated whether the author was a genius or an idiot, and whether his use of personification was clever or pure fluke. I felt a sharp pang in my chest as I watched her. She was just so passionate about it; it even made me feel interested.

She had made me feel like that too.

As the night wore on, everyone got more and more relaxed as they ordered more and more drinks and became more and more drunk. I had certainly had a lot more than I would have normally, probably because of the nerves Hannah being there was giving me.

Suddenly she looked across at me. Her warm eyes seemed distant, the smile playing at the corners of her mouth somehow sad. Her pale features weren’t so delicate tonight. They were stronger, more determined. She hadn’t danced with anyone all night, although she’d talked to almost everyone in the room. She seemed happy that way.

‘Are you ok?’ I asked her.

‘Yes. Why?’

I followed her gaze out the window. ‘I’m just wondering if you really want to be here. You seem far away.’

She flashed me a forced smile. ‘No, no. I’m having a great time. I’m a little tired, is all.’

I cast around for something for something to say. I’d always been terribly hopeless about talking to girls. Especially girls who didn’t seem to like me at all.

‘Can I buy you a drink?’ I asked.

Hannah shook her head slowly. ‘Thanks. But I don’t drink. I’ve had some bad experiences that I don’t wish to repeat.’

‘That’s fine,’ I said quickly. ‘Normally I don’t drink much either.’

She nodded vaguely, waving at Greg as he walked past with some poor girl he had just picked up from another table.

‘Do you want to dance?’ I asked nervously, my hand gripping the chair.

I laughed as she looked behind her to check no one was there before looking back at me.

‘Who, me?’ she said. ‘Sure, why not.’

I grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto the floor. We had just started dancing, when suddenly the fast paced pop song that had been playing ended, to be replaced by some slow song- a couple song.

We looked at each other uncomfortably. Slowly I took one of her hands into my own, placing my other one lightly on her thin waist.

Hannah looked scared as she put her hand onto my shoulder, as though I might bite her head off or something. We began to dance, swaying slowly to the music and rotating on the spot as the floor around us quickly filled up with other couples holding hands.

I lightly pulled her closer, so we were practically touching; her head just a bit higher than my shoulder. My breath caught in my throat as she gripped my hand within hers. I lifted my hand from her waist and ran a finger around the edge of her face, down her neck, and onto her shoulder. I put my hand behind her neck, supporting her head. And then, before I could stop myself, I leant down and kissed her lightly on her forehead.

She jumped back, as if electrocuted. Her eyes were wide and afraid, looking straight up at me. She looked so scared.

‘Hannah-’ I said worriedly, reaching out my hand.

‘Sorry-sorry,’ she said. ‘I just…I just need some air.’

She ran off through the crowd towards the door. I walked after her, receiving weird looks from others dancing as I passed them. When I got outside, I couldn’t see her anywhere. I looked down the street and right at the end, I could see a single taxi turning the corner, before disappearing into the darkness.

---

My eyes snap open, my breath quick, my heart beating hard and fast. I’ve been dreaming again. These dreams always seem to come just as I’m starting to forget. And they’re always the same.

It’s her, standing there, asking me to forgive her. She turns and walks away. I follow her, only to find myself in a corridor full of doors. Where’s she gone? I see a red door with a rusty knob. I open it, and I’m surrounded by coloured lights, with loud music playing all around, but it doesn’t seem to be coming from anywhere. And then I fall. And I keep on falling until suddenly I find myself in bed.

I know what it means. I know what I have to do. But I’m too afraid I’ll fall.

---

Yay!!!!! See you in chapter 7 (if i can write it)

luv ya,
chlo xoxo

Miracles
We live in a fantasy world, a world of illusion.
The great task in life is to find reality
- Iris Murdoch

As I walked up James’ front steps, I was beginning to regret my hasty decision. I turned around and looked pleadingly at Gina who was sitting in my parked car across the street. She turned up the stereo so even I could hear it, and nodded towards his front door before turning the radio down again.

She was right. I was right. I couldn’t just ignore him after the way I’d stormed out on him last night. I just hadn’t been able to handle it. It was all going too fast, and I had been confused. But I still had to say sorry.

I rang the bell, the shrill blast making me jump. A few minutes passed, and it seemed like he wasn’t home. I turned and shrugged at Gina, and then started walking back down the stairs.

‘Hannah?’ I heard him say behind me as the door opened. ‘Hannah, wait!’

I turned around. ‘Hi James. I just came over to say….I needed to talk to you.’

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Do you want to come inside?’

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘But only if you’re not busy, you know, because I can always come by another time…’

I was rambling now. And James was grinning at me.

‘Come on.’

As I walked through his front door into the living room, I was struck by how untidy everything was, with some things still in moving boxes, and the rest strewn across the tables and the floor.

‘Did you just move in?’ I asked him, looking across the room.

He looked at the messy room. ‘No. I’ve been here a couple of months,’ he said, seeming embarrassed. ‘But you never know when you’re going to have to move out. I’ve moved around a lot these past few years.’

‘But how do you find anything?’

‘Everything has its place in the mess,’ he said. ‘For example, the TV remote is always under this pile of dirty laundry.’ He lifted up the pile to demonstrate.

‘Anyway, what did you want to talk about?’

I looked out the window, then slowly turned my gaze on James.

‘I just wanted to say sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m really sorry I ran away last night, and I thought you deserved an explanation.

‘See, I used to have this friend- I guess you could call him my boyfriend. I loved him, not just in that way, but more than anything, I loved him as a friend, like a brother. I’ve known him since I was twelve. We were so close; it was as if we were one person. We went through so much together.

‘We started going out, and everything was great. But- but then…’

I gasped, and the one thing I hadn’t wanted to happen happened. I started crying. James started coming towards me, but I stopped him. I steadied myself and started talking again, tears still sliding my cheeks.

‘One night, about five years ago, he was out, and I wasn’t feeling myself because I hadn’t seen him in a while. Then this guy came in, who I know had liked me since I was fifteen, and of course I said hello. But then he started kissing me, and he was so strong, I couldn’t get him off.

‘Then my boyfriend came in from work, and saw him kissing me. He just stood there, staring, while this other guy backs off. And then he left. He was my best friend. I never saw him again.’

Tears seemed to drown me as James came up and wrapped his arms around me tight, as if he were protecting me from the pain. I cried like I never had before, letting him absorb my sadness until I could give no more.

‘So that’s why I ran last night. It was all going too fast for me. I didn’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt myself again.’

‘Shhh…that’s okay. I had no idea what you had been through. I don’t have any right to rush you.’

‘I’m still sorry. And I also want you to know that I haven’t felt as close to anyone as I feel to you in a long time.’

James smiled down at me, then realised he still had his arms around me and quickly let go.

‘Do you want some tea…coffee…poisonous substances…?’

‘Just- just tea thanks.’

While James went off to make the tea, I sat down on the couch, taking all the loose paper off first. As I wiped the tears from my eyes, I noticed his coffee table seemed to be the only tidy thing in the room, with only a couple of books and some photos in frames. I only glanced at the books, as I had read other books by that author and hadn’t enjoyed them, but the pictures stopped me in my tracks.

I knew them. There were some of his friends I’d met last night, but those weren’t the ones I was looking at. The only ones I saw were people I hadn’t seen for five years, people I hadn’t thought I’d be seeing again.

As I saw their faces, memories flashed through my mind. Memories of adventure, of love, of danger, of friendship. It was like watching scenes from a movie, but it was me who was starring. Me and Harry and Ron.

How did James have these pictures?

I looked at Harry’s face, smiling but serious, brave yet afraid. It had always been like that. His eyes; his deep, beautiful eyes. Where had I seen them recently? And his hair, sticking up on end like it always was, seemed more familiar than usual as well. His glasses, for once, seemed out of place. Why did it feel like they shouldn’t be there?

James. Harry. Harry. James. Harry James Potter.

James was Harry. And as suddenly as I realised this, I also realised that I hadn’t noticed, hadn’t recognised him. I’d been completely blind to what was right in front of me.

Frantically I searched through the papers that I’d taken off the chair for proof of this unbelievable conclusion I’d brought myself to. What’s his last name?

Eventually I found a bank statement among various emails from his friends and workmates. The thing that I had been looking for was looking me right in the face.
To Mr James Evans.

Did he know? Should I tell him? Questions were spinning around in my head, being obscured by the strange swooping sensation that I was feeling in every fibre of my being. I’d found Harry.

He came out of the kitchen, carrying two cups of tea. I quickly jumped up, trying to look upset still, but inside, my heart was soaring.

‘I gave you milk but no sugar,’ he said. ‘I hope that’s ok.’

‘Just the way I like it,’ I said, taking the cup and sipping from it.

After a few minutes of silence while we drank our tea, I asked him something.

‘Do you believe in miracles, James?’

He looked at me strangely for a moment. ‘I suppose so. Why?’

I smiled into my teacup. ‘Just wondering.’


***

I’m seeing him everywhere now. None of that occasional glimpsing through the fog, or hearing his voice in the wind. I don’t even see his eyes underneath my lids when I go to fall asleep. No, this is nothing like I’ve read about in books. Instead of the rare memories that make me cry once in a while, it’s as if he’s haunting me, stalking me. The thought of him is all that fills my mind.

It’s as if he’s reminding me of what happened-knowingly and willingly causing me pain. Even the good dreams are like nightmares, the happy memories filling me with guilt and keeping me awake at night.

I can’t help but wonder sometimes if he feels this way too. Does he roll over in bed, only to find an empty pillow beside him? Does he see happy couples walking in the park and wonder if that will ever be him? Does he think he will ever get over the pain? Or is he already over it? The thought of him makes me want to scream aloud with the pain.

His memory is torturing me, but still I don’t want to forget.

---

luv all of you guys who are reading... although I wish more people would read, I think this is one of my better ones.

luv ya lots,

chlo xoxo

Burn
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire,
I hold with those who favour fire.’
-Robert Frost

It was four months after I met Hannah when I invited her to that picnic. It was a yearly event, when me and my idiot friends got out food, picnic rugs, and more champagne than is legal, and headed out to this huge park where we would sit for most of the day, eating, drinking, and occasionally playing a game in the soft grass. We were a lot more childish than I like to remember.

Hannah and I had become much closer since that day at my house. I’m still amazed at the change in her. It was as if telling me about her past had given her a confidence that she’d never had before, like giving me some of herself had made her whole. She was happy, smiling so often that I kept thinking I’d missed something. Her eyes took on a life of their own, sparkling when she saw me. She’d crack jokes, and join in conversations whenever she could. I’d never seen anyone who looked so content to be who they were, or anyone who looked like where they were was the only place they wanted to be. This was a new Hannah, like no person I’d never known.

It was amazing, incredible. And I couldn’t be happier about being there while it happened.

When I turned up at her house one Sunday afternoon, she came to the door within seconds, and a wonderful smile lit up her face when she saw me, her brown eyes shining warmly. I asked her casually, trying not to make it sound like a big deal, even though it was, for me. She thought quickly, and then said she would, flashing me another smile. She ran to check her diary, in which she planned everything, and around which everything in her life revolved. She turned pages until she arrived at the correct date, the following Saturday. There was something there.

‘Lunch with Gee,’ she said, her smile quickly fading. ‘But I could cancel….hey, can Gina come to this picnic, or is it a private sort of thing?’

‘No- no, she can come,’ I said, almost a little too quickly. ‘As long as she’s not afraid of my friends, she can definitely come.’

‘I think she’ll be fine. Gee’s not afraid of anything.’

‘Great. Well, I’ve got to go. I’ll pick you up at ten on Saturday?’

‘Ok. I’ll see you then.’

For a few seconds, we just stood and looked at each other. But then I turned and walked out, destroying the connection that had built up between us. I paused at the door, looked back at her and grinned. She smiled back, and gave me the tiniest of waves as I closed the door behind me. I was flying. I was a kid again, soaring through the air, on top of the world, and leaving everything behind.

---

The next Saturday was perfect, weather-wise. There were a few scattered clouds in the blue sky, with no sign of rain, although there was a bit of a cool breeze. As I got dressed, I felt more and more excited about the fact that I would be seeing Hannah in less than an hour, and that I’d be spending the whole day with her.

Even though I knew she wouldn’t care, I was very stressed out about how I looked that day. My t-shirt was too small, my jeans too big. My shoes- which shoes should I wear? Not sandals- too casual. But I didn’t want it to feel like a formal outing or anything. I must have changed shoes about five times that day. In the end, I stuck with the sandals.

I turned up at her house a minute or two early, mainly because I didn’t like the thought of turning up late. As I was walking slowly up her front steps, I looked down at the white flower in my hand. Why? I thought to myself. Why did I bring the flower? Too cheesy. Much too cheesy.

When she came to let me in, I once again couldn’t help marvelling at how beautiful she was- today in a knee-length ruffled skirt and a singlet top, her hair tied back in a casual bun. Her eyes were a deep, warm brown that day, the kind of brown that makes you think of melting chocolate.

Despite my worries, she liked the flower, or if she didn’t, she did some pretty good acting. She gave me one of her killer smiles, and thanked me. She cut off some of the stalk and tucked it behind her ear.

We talked about a lot that day in the park. It was a day of happiness, of easy talking, and laughter. At one point I asked about the tattoo on her arm.

‘It’s not a real one- that’s not really my thing. It’s semi-permanent, lasts for about a month. I get one every year about this time- Christmas. The wings on either side are made up of letters- my initials and my …my boyfriend’s- my old boyfriend’s.’

I also kissed her for the first time that day. It was after lunch, and most of the others had gone for a walk. We were talking about my work, and she was lying there in the grass, her eyes closed, a half-smile playing at her lips. She looked almost angelic, the dappled sunlight shining through the leaves of the tree we were sitting under. In a break in the conversation, I leant down and kissed her softly. I saw her surprise at first, but then she welcomed it, kissing me back. I pulled away, and lay down next to her. She felt around for my hand and held it, her fingers small in my own. She opened her eyes and looked at me.

‘Is this too fast?’

She smiled softly at me, shaking her head. ‘No. Not at all.’

I think my friends realised that something had happened between us, because they left us alone for most of the afternoon. It left me free to talk to Hannah about things I hadn’t talked about for years. It was refreshing, in a way, my brand new start on life.

‘It’s really great being here, isn’t it?’ I said to her at one point. ‘I mean- with you, and my friends- it really makes you appreciate what’s really important; friends, family, love. I feel like I’m making a brand new start. What about you? Do you have any family?’

She didn’t reply for a few seconds. ‘I don’t talk to my family much anymore. Or my friends.’

She didn’t talk much after that. I felt awful, because everything had been going great beforehand. When I dropped her home, she thanked me profusely, insisting that she’d had a fantastic time, but I could see the sadness in her eyes. After she shut the door, and I was walking down her steps, I swear I heard her gasping back tears. I told myself it was my imagination, and kept going, walking away from her with the most horrible feeling of regret. The day had been a disaster, and it was all my fault.

---

Time heals all wounds, all injuries. Or that’s what I’ve been told. His lips on hers, his arms holding her tight. Her agonising expression as she looked at me in the doorway. Her pleading eyes. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder if it was somehow my fault. Did I ever make her feel unloved? And will these memories ever fade?

These are my thoughts as I sit at my desk and write to her. I write every honest memory, thought, and emotion. I write asking questions that I need answering, questions that I can’t do without answers to. I write my account of that night, and what I’ve been doing since. I tell her that, even through all the times when I’ve tried to forget, hating her for what she did, I still love her. And I ask her to forgive me for whatever I might have done. And then, with a heart lighter than it had been, I throw the letter in the fire and watch it as it burns.

---

what will happen next? only i can tell (and I won't, btw, so don't ask). C ya next time!!!

luv ya,
chlo xoxo

Decisions
I don’t know, I really don’t know
If this castle in the sand
Is strong enough to stand
- ‘Running’, Evermore

It was the light breaking through the curtains that woke me for the next few mornings, not the usual nightmares. I wasn’t sleeping much, often staying up until midnight or later, reading or watching movies to distract myself. During the day, I kept myself busy, trying to ignore the redness of my eyes, and the wet patches I left on my pillow. I hadn’t spoken to James since the picnic, although he’d left a few phone messages. Gina had come around a few times, but I hadn’t answered the door. She was probably worried, but at that point I didn’t really care.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said to me. ‘I mean- with you, and my friends- it really makes you appreciate what’s really important; friends, family, love. I feel like I’m making a brand new start.’

He’d sounded so innocent, so sure of himself. He hadn’t known how much he hurt me with those words. He’d spent so long getting over me, being angry at me, probably hating me, trying to forget me. He’d found someone new, someone who needed him as much as he needed her, someone who knew him as James- just James. Someone who didn’t know about Harry Potter and all the adventures he’d had, the dangers he’d faced. Someone who didn’t know how torn apart he was inside, who didn’t know he’d run away. Someone who saw him as happy. He thought he was making a brand new start. But really, he was right back where he’d started. With me.

He didn’t love me. He loved Hannah- or at least he thought he did. He’d discarded me, and found someone who cared. But if I stayed, I would be stuck in a world where only I knew the truth, where I would go on, wishing I could tell him, but not wanting to lose him again. I couldn’t do that- to him or myself. I had to leave.

I was running again, but this time, I wasn’t running away. I was running back.

I was making up my mind, much quicker than I would normally. My mind was racing, my heart beating fast because I’d finally found a way out of this terrible mess I’d put myself in. It was an easy way out; much more cowardly than anything I used to do, when I was still Hermione. But the Hannah inside of me was telling me to run, to get out while I still could. It was Harry, Harry was what made me feel like this- so strange, this feeling of hurried love. I didn’t want to be with him if it wasn’t actually me he wanted, but the thought of losing him again made me want to cry.

I picked up the phone and dialled Gina’s number at the restaurant. It rang twice before she picked up. ‘Hello, Gina’s café, Gina speaking.’

‘Gee,’ I said, in almost a whisper.

‘Oh my God, Han, is that you? I’ve been so worried. You haven’t called or answered the door; I didn’t know where you were! Are you alright?’

‘Gee, can you come over? I need to talk to you.’

‘Yeah, just let me get organised. Are you sure you’re ok? Have you been crying? I’ll be right over.’

It took her fifteen minutes and twenty-two seconds to arrive. I know, because I sat and watched the clock on my kitchen wall for the entire time. When I let her in, and she saw what I looked like, I think she actually jumped in shock.

‘Hannah! What happened to you? Look at those rings around your eyes! Haven’t you slept at all?’

I took her over to the couch and sat down. ‘Gee, you know how a few months ago we had that talk in the park?’

‘About how you’re magical and how you’re still in love with this hero guy? Yeah, that was pretty hard to forget.’

I took a deep breath. ‘That ‘hero guy’ is James. But he doesn’t know that it’s me yet.’

She exhaled heavily, sinking down onto the couch. ‘Oh God. How long have you known?’

‘Since that day after we went out for the first time. When I went to apologise. He had photos- of me, and my friends. And I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t noticed that the guy I was beginning to get attached to was actually the same as the one I was trying to let go of.’

She looked at me, confused. ‘But- but Han, I mean…Hermione; you’ve been so happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen you, actually. If you’ve known for this long, what’s the problem?’

‘He doesn’t love me, Gee. He loves Hannah, and that’s not who I want to be anymore. I want to be Hermione, who’s good at school. Hermione, who loves books. Hermione, Harry Potter’s girlfriend. I want to talk to my mum and dad again. I want to see Ron and Ginny. I want to use magic again. I don’t want to be stuck here, being James’ brand new start, when really, it’s just me. I want it to be like it is now, but without the false identities. I don’t want to lose you, Gee, but I don’t want to lose Harry either.’

‘So what are you going to do? I don’t think he’d react well if you just told him straight out.’

‘Oh God, Gee. I don’t know. I feel like running away from it all and letting you tell him. Do you think that would work?’

‘Seriously, Han? I doubt it.’

We spent the rest of the afternoon formulating plans, packing, and making phone calls. It took a long time, but between us we worked out what I was going to do. By the time night came, I had rented out my house, and arranged for the removalists to come and get my stuff. I called my parents for the first time in five years, and had the usual teary conversation. It was so great to hear their voices again. They sounded so relieved to hear that I was alright. It made me feel happy, but somehow sad as well. I felt like I was standing in the middle of a rickety bridge, and on one side stood my parents, and all my old friends. On the other side stood Harry. I was making a choice, which was hard when I could almost feel the bridge beginning to collapse beneath me. There would be no coming back across once I went to one side or the other.

---

I’m in the graveyard again. This is where I’ve been going a lot lately, when I’m finding it hard, and remembering is the only way I’m going to forget. The past is raw here, the memories as fresh as the day they were made. I open the iron gate which leads into the section devoted to those lost in the war. It’s difficult to hold back the tears sometimes, when I’m in here. Reading the names, and seeing their faces in my mind, it tears my heart in two. I go over and sit in our place, by the old tree in the corner. It’s colder here than in most places.

The initials carved into the tree are what hurt the most. The letters intertwine, and it seems that they had been carved by two people in a state of perfect happiness. The letters have begun to fade as the years go by and the tree grows, ever so slowly. Eventually, there won’t be anything there to suggest that there were two people so much in love, nothing to remind them of the relationship that didn’t work out.

I’m not crying today. I’m hurting, but somehow it feels like I’ve forgotten how to cry, and the tears refuse to fall. I’m waiting. I know I am. But the person I’m waiting for is never going to come.

---

Only a few chappies left! leave me some emotional support on your way out, please (!!!)

luv you all a lot a lot,
chlo

Letters
‘Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls.’
-John Donne

By the time the weekend following the picnic arrived, I was really beginning to worry. I hadn’t seen Hannah all week, and she hadn’t answered her phone at all. I’d even called her friend Gina, but she hadn’t heard from her either. I knew it was my fault, this disappearance, because I’d upset her somehow at the picnic. I felt like an absolute idiot, and I couldn’t help but imagine what horrible things could have happened to her. Bad things had always happened to those around me when I was younger, why should it be any different now?

The sky was dark grey and heavy with clouds on Sunday evening, and thunder rumbled in the distance as I poured myself a coffee. I opened the newspaper, not really taking anything in as I attempted to read the same paragraph ten times. The slightest noise was distracting, and when I heard the mail drop in through the slot, I had to go get it.

As I got to the door, I saw that there wasn’t anything terribly exciting in the small pile of letters. Two looked like bills, one was from the bank, and there was one plain white envelope addressed in black ink. Putting off looking at the bills for as long as I could, I picked up the pile and put it on a table in the hall. I opened the one with the handwritten envelope, and took out the two pieces of paper in it. I was confused, because I didn’t know anyone who sent letters through the post anymore, but I picked up the first, less aged piece of paper and began to read.

James,
I know who you are. I should have known for longer, but the part of me that thought I would never see you again blinded me, made me see you in a new light.

I think you know who I am too, but you just can’t see past the wall your heart has built around itself to protect you. Let yourself go James. Inside, I think you know the truth.

These past months have been weird, and yet totally and wonderfully amazing, and I wanted to thank you. You’ve re-awoken a part of me that I thought was dead a long time ago, a part of me that died along with that boy I told you about, the one who left through a terrible misunderstanding. I still love that boy. If he ever wanted to find me, I would always be waiting for him at our place.

But I’ve decided that I’ve waited for him long enough. So after tonight, I won’t wait any longer for him to forget what happened that night. I’ve got a life to live, and I can’t do that if I’m still stuck in the past.

I hope this has answered any questions that live on, and that this goodbye has been a sufficient rebirth.

H.G.

P.S. I thought you might like to know what you missed five years ago. I kept a copy, just in case. Take good care of it for me.

If I’d been confused a moment before, that wasn’t anything compared to what I was feeling now. It was from Hannah, obviously, but what was she talking about, ‘the part of me that thought I would never see you again’ and ‘what you missed five years ago’? I’d only known her for just under six months. She couldn’t have found out, could she? Who could have told her? And why was she talking about her old boyfriend? ‘I still love that boy’. Thanks, Hannah, that’s encouraging. Hoping more than anything that the second piece of paper would clear everything up, I picked it up and started reading.

Dear Harry,
This is a letter you will never read. I know this, because I may not have the strength to send it, or you may choose not to open it. It might not even reach you.

So even though I know that this will never be read, and I will probably never see you again, I just needed to know that I tried. I’m sorry, Harry, that’s all I’ve got to say. I’m not going to beg for forgiveness, because I wouldn’t expect it of you. And I’m not going to say it wasn’t my fault, because in part it was. I’ve known you long enough to know that you don’t forgive easily, Harry, and that you stick to your convictions. But I thought I might be in with a chance.

I’ve thought about you a lot since you left. I daresay I’ve missed you the most, even with the Weasleys flipping out and the rest of your adoring fans practically mourning. But I’m not just some fan, Harry, and you’re not just some celebrity who hides from the cameras when the going gets tough. I’m your friend. More than a friend. I thought you might like to think about that.

After I’ve sent this off to you, I’m leaving. I’m putting all this behind me in a last-ditch attempt to have a normal, happy life. I’m starting over with a new outlook on living. I hope that you’re doing this too, and not sitting at a bar and drinking yourself to death, which would be typical you.

I’ve never known you to run from trouble, Harry. Generally speaking, you’re known to run straight into it. So what’s different this time? Was it really worth fighting all those years for our freedom, seeing so many die, just to end up running from me?

If you’ve read this far, you’ve exceeded my expectations, Harry. I suspect this letter would be in tatters by now, turning to black in some fireplace. But if you are still reading, I just want you to know that I’m truly sorry for what I did to you, for the pain we’re both feeling, and I don’t expect you to come back too soon. But just know, when you do come back, don’t come looking for me. I’ll be gone to a better part of my life.

Love always,
Hermione

For a moment I stood in shocked silence. Then, dropping the letter, I turned and punched the wall, hard. I hadn’t learnt from all the other times I’d done that, it really hurt my hand. Shit. I’ve been so blind. It all made sense now. The echoing similarities. The attraction I’d felt to Hannah even though I’d never met her before; it had been Hermione all along. Her song, her eyes, her sudden warming to me when she was at my house; she’d seen the photos. How she’d felt bad when asked about her friends and family. Her tattoo, how similar they looked. Why hadn’t I seen it before? It was so obvious. Hermione.

This was the letter she’d sent me, the one I’d ripped up and refused to read. I couldn’t deny how strongly I felt about her now, and it wasn’t anger or betrayal. I’d fallen in love with her all over again. I’d heard her side of the story, a side I would never have heard otherwise, and in that moment, I forgave her. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

A second later, it hit me that I had no idea about what to do. I had a life here; I couldn’t just up and leave. But what else could I do? I couldn’t let her go now that I knew. I couldn’t go through that again. I realised then that I was pacing around the room. I stopped, and went towards the phone. When I picked it up, however, I had no idea who I was calling. I wanted to call Greg, to ask for advice, and I wanted to call Hermione, just to ask her why she was doing this to me. But I couldn’t figure out what I would say. Would I be able to say anything? I felt like someone had ripped out all my insides, leaving me empty.

I dropped the receiver and went back to the first letter. I was that boy she’d been trying to forget all these years. But ‘after tonight, I won’t wait any longer for him to forget what happened that night’. Ok, yes, done, forgiven, forgotten. But where could I find her? I was reading feverishly. But then I found it. ‘…I would always be waiting for him at our place.’

With only a glance at the oncoming storm outside, I reached into the top drawer of the cabinet by the door, pulling out my dusty wand. And then, turning around, I disappeared from the living room with a loud crack.

***

It’s cold tonight, but warm by the fire where I sit, with her head on my shoulder. I reach my arms out, and circle them around her, pulling her to me. She looks up at me, and I kiss her softly. There’s nothing else tonight, just us.

‘Harry?’ she says, sitting up.

‘Yeah?’

‘Will it always be like this? Or will it be different when we’re older?’

‘I hope it’ll always be like this. No, it will. I promise, Hermione. You want to know why I think that?’

‘Why, Harry?’

‘Because I love you.’

She smiled, leaning into him again. ‘I love you too, Harry.’

And so we sit here, our bodies pressing together, binding us, making it hard to know who I am. And in this moment, I know that we’re joined in a way that cannot be broken, that we’re together for always. Forever.

---

did you like it? hope you did! ready for the next one? i have some idea of what will happen- better go write it

luv you all heaps and heaps,
chlo xoxo

The Beginning
‘This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.’
- Winston Churchill

Rain. In my hair, on my face, soaking through my clothes to my skin. It was freezing that night, the harsh wind making my wet skin feel like ice. I hadn’t bothered with an umbrella. All I had on was jeans, boots, and only a thin jumper over my t-shirt. But why would I be bothered by that? It was just a storm after all, just a bit of rain.

My teeth chattered, my fingers were going numb. I had goose-bumps like mountain ranges all along my arms, the soaked jumper doing nothing to keep me warm. But still I sat under that tree, with rain falling through the leaves onto my head, plastering my hair to my head, the coldest shower I’d ever experienced. Just a bit of rain.

In my jeans pocket was my long-unused wand, sitting uncomfortably at an angle like it hadn’t since my first day at Hogwarts. How could it have become so natural to have it sit there? I could’ve used it to keep me dry, but at the time, I didn’t actually care. What difference would it make if I was dry?

I was so single-mindedly determined that day, so sure that he would come. I was willing to wait there all night if that’s what it took. He had to come. He had to love me. Shivering, I hugged my knees into my chest, not willing to contemplate what would happen if he didn’t.

It was so dark that night. And after a time, I began to realise that I was scared. I’d become afraid of a lot of things over the years, become weaker from being on my own. I’d never been scared with Harry, because he’d made me strong. I needed him. I needed him here, now. I couldn’t do it on my own anymore.

But what would happen if he didn’t come? Could I go back to who I was before? Not if he wasn’t there. I couldn’t be Hermione again, but I couldn’t be Hannah either, not after what had happened. I wanted to just sit here forever, letting my soul slowly wash away.

Just then, something caught my eye, and I whipped my head around. A figure was working its way through the dark graveyard, illuminating its path with a small beam of light. It hadn’t seen me yet. As it walked towards me, I could see that the figure was most definitely male. He turned his head, looking for something. I kept quiet, waiting.

I felt a sneeze building up behind my nose, and before I could do anything to try to stop it, my eyes snapped shut and my breath was knocked out of me. The figure quickly turned and walked towards me, and closer up, I could see his face, more familiar than my own, illuminated by the lit wand in his hand.

I was crying then, big, loud tears that really mean something. He’d come. He’d come for me. He must have heard me crying, because he started running, his face anxious.

‘Hermione? Hermione!’ He reached the tree, and knelt down next to me. He touched my arm, and the cold suddenly disappeared. ‘Hermione what’s wrong? Are you alright?’

I looked up at him, smiling. He looked a bit confused. I remembered then that I’d been taking the morphing potion, so that I’d look different when I was Hannah. He’d grown used to her, so that I was the stranger now.

‘God, Hermione, you’re so cold,’ he said, sitting down and bringing me into his arms. ‘What were you doing, sitting here in the rain?’

‘Waiting,’ I breathed, gasping through happy tears, ‘waiting for you.’

He looked at me for a moment, his mouth frozen in a strange sad smile, his eyes worried, concerned. He picked up his wand and muttered something under his breath. And even as he looked at me, his eyes changed from that strange blue-green I’d grown so used to, the colour melting away to reveal that deep bottle green that had haunted so many of my dreams.

‘Harry… I-’

‘Don’t you dare say sorry Hermione, because it’s not your fault. It was my fault, always was. I was so… so stupid.’ He looked bitter, scowling at the ground.

‘It was my fault too, Harry. I could have told you earlier.’

He looked up at me then, his face thoughtful. ‘You could have, but then I never would have stayed. I hate to say it, but I think I would have run if you’d told me any earlier.’

For a few minutes we just sat there, the rain falling around us, with Harry’s arm wrapped around me, keeping me warm. I felt myself relaxing into him, and I still fit there as well as I ever did.

‘Hermione… that night with Krum…did you- you didn’t…’ he trailed off, but I knew what he was asking. This must have been on his mind for years now.

‘I never wanted him, Harry. Well, I did at school, but not then. I was over him, and I had you. God, Harry, do you know how much I wished you hadn’t come in at that moment? But in some ways, I’m glad it happened. I met Gee, and I’ve realised how much I really needed you. I haven’t been myself for years, because you’re such a huge part of who I am.’

His hair was still brown, so strange, and yet so familiar. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wand, and for a moment he looked concerned. As I whispered the incantation, the brown darkened until it turned to black, and it stuck up a bit at the back, so it looked just like it used to. Another spell caused a lightning scar to appear on his forehead, and he reached up to touch it, running over it with his fingers.

‘Much better,’ I said. ‘Now, where are those glasses?’

He pulled them out and put them on, smiling, and his happiness warmed both of us. Then his hand was on my neck, and he was leaning towards me. His lips on mine sent warm ripples through me, and I suddenly felt so alive. I kissed him back, making up for all those years I’d gone without him. His warmth was enough to make me remember how it felt to be truly happy, blissful even.

‘So, what now, Hermione?’ he asked as he pulled away. ‘What are we going to do?’

I didn’t even need to think. ‘I’m going back. I’ve rung my parents, I’ve told Gee, and the removalists are coming sometime this week. Also, I’ve been looking to change jobs for a while now, so I can sell the shop and start up in the Ministry or something. And I really want to see everyone again, especially Ron. I sent a letter before I left, but I never got the chance to explain to him why I had to go. Now’s the time, Harry. So I’m going back, and I’d really appreciate it if you came with me.’

‘Oh, I don’t know Hermione, it’ll just be so difficult to leave,’ he said teasingly. ‘But I’ll try to drag myself back to reality, so long as you’re going.’ He was talking as though they were discussing a trip to the shops.

‘Thankyou,’ I whispered, and I leant into him again as the rain slowed until it stopped and the night slowly faded into day. The brightness of the morning lit up the graveyard, and glancing behind me, I saw our initials carved into the tree. I felt uplifted in that morning, with the sun making the wet grass glisten, and the happiness that I felt rushing through every part of me. We were going back, together. And finally, after so many years, I could be myself without wanting to forget.

---

Well, there you have it! Finished! Yay!! As you can tell, I've had heaps of fun writing this, so I hope you've all enjoyed reading. If you have, leave me a nice little review to make me feel good, and if you haven't, tell me what I need to improve on. plz?

Luv ya all lots and lots,
chlo

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo