harry.exe has stopped working ━ hp x tmr | lv

29

i'm alive yall 😎
suffering with a fever and infection and also a toothache bc my body despises me 🙄

anyways--

Chapter Twenty-Nine:

Harry has never liked the ocean. 

Sure, it looks pretty and there are certain likeable aspects to it, but Harry doesn't see the appeal as much as others do. 

Perhaps it's because others use the ocean as a means to escape, to cool themselves down on a hot summer's day or to feel the simple joys of swimming and diving down to discover small treasures hidden beneath the sands. 

Harry, who has never ever been normal, uses the ocean as a means to forget. 

He sends his memories to the ocean, has them swim across the shore, merge with the waves and disappear. It's easier this way – easier to forget why he doesn't like swimming anymore, why tomato soup sits in his mouth like poison or why the thought of betrayal travels down his throat like ash and burns at his insides like acid. 

It's easier if the world around him blurs and becomes bleak, if he just forgets everything. 

(Maybe then the feeling of emptiness will be forgotten too.)

So, Harry swims across the shore himself. He doesn't even bother to battle with the waves and it's only a matter of seconds before they swallow him up, only for the ocean to devour him next.  

(Still, the hollowness in his being persists.) 

(Harry knows only one way to deal with a feeling like this.)

(He wonders if anyone will forget him.) 

Harry doesn't notice, but the world around him continues, day after day, week after week and month after month. 

Eventually, April turns to May. 

May turns to June. 

And June turns to July. 

"--arry! Harry! Are you even listening?" 

"Hm?" Harry blinks, his vision clearing up to show an exasperated Hermione sat across from him at the Library. Everything feels right and distorted at the same time. Harry clears his throat, "Sorry, I was thinking for a second there. Did you say something?"

Hermione sighs, rubbing her forehead with the tips of her fingers. Her nails are weirdly greenish. "I was asking about your summer plans." The girl explains. "I'm going to Paris with my parents, but since I've been invited to the Malfoy's Ball, I'll floo in for a couple of days. Will you be attending?" 

"Right," Harry pauses, frowning slightly. "I'll be staying with my relatives," he lies smoothly, peering down at the parchment laid out on the table in front of him. There are a few scribbled notes on Transfiguration and what Harry thinks might be drawings of various ingredients for Potions. "It'll depend on what they're planning this year," Harry says, picking up the parchment for closer inspection, "so I'm not sure if I'll be allowed to attend the ball." 

His frown deepens when he finds dates jotted on the side, numbers overlapping and jumbled all together. Weird, he thinks, seeing one all the way from Easter. Harry rolls the parchment up, much like Hermione is doing to hers, and places it inside his bag. 

"That's alright. I'm just glad the exams are over," Hermione says, stretching her arms above her head. There's a small crack from her bones and Harry twitches. 

"Now all I have to stress about are the results," Hermione mutters, placing her chin into the palm of her hand. 

"Yeah," Harry says, agreeing, feeling as if someone else is in control of his body. His mouth moves without his consent. "I'm sure we both did great, 'Mione. Especially considering you made me study with you this whole time."

Hermione laughs. "Yeah, I know. But still." The girl stands to her feet, "right, it's getting late. We should return to our dorms.''

Nodding, Harry follows the Ravenclaw out of the library and into the halls of Hogwarts. There are a few other students, mostly the upper years, that are still out and about, laughing quietly in corners and talking excitedly in hushed tones. Harry quirks a brow at a pair of Hufflepuffs who walk over to them with trays full of warm snacks. 

Hermione picks out a potato scone with a shy smile and a small, "Thank you." 

Harry indulges in a sausage roll. It's warm and melts inside his mouth. Harry doesn't remember being hungry, but his stomach is suddenly begging for more. He murmurs his thanks to the Hufflepuffs and watches as they disappear around the corner, on their way to offer snacks to other students. 

"I can't wait to be in their position,'' Hermione murmurs dreamily, "a seventh year, with the best grades and the best job–" 

"You actually want to graduate?" Harry quips. "I thought you'd be staying at Hogwarts, for like, forever." 

Hermione flushes a deep red. "Ha ha," she scrunches up her nose, evidently already at her limit with being nice today, and waves at him, "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Harry," she says, moving to ascend the stairs. 

Harry absentmindedly waves back. 

He doesn't know how he makes it back to his dorm, or how he even falls asleep. When he opens his eyes next, it's to the feeling of dread pooling into every crevice of his body. 

He stews in the feeling, letting it slowly enter the ocean until it disappears all together, until it becomes nothing – until Harry becomes nothing. 

He closes his eyes, counts to five, and when he flutters them open he's sitting in the great hall with a half eaten plate of scrambled eggs. From his side, he hears Pansy and Draco arguing about some of the questions from the Charms exam.

Harry blinks and he's in the Slytherin common room, sitting around the fireplace with the other first years and opening his exam results. He stares down at the parchment, all E's and A's. 

He should be feeling relief and contentment, but all Harry feels is a numbing coldness. He glances at the fireplace in confusion. 

Blink. 

Harry places the last of his belongings in his truck and then secures the latch.

Blink. 

Harry steps off at Kings Cross, stumbling through the crowd of students running to their parents in excitement. There are yells of joy accompanied by soft smiles and ringing laughter. 

Blink. 

Harry stares up at Grimmauld Place with a sense of guilt clouding his mind. Harry breathes in the ocean like he would breathe in the air around him. It fills up his lungs and suffocates him.

It takes a few minutes, but the guilt resides and turns into nothingness.

(It's forgotten.)

(Would anyone forget him?)

Blink. 

Sirius wraps his arms tightly around Harry, "my little pup, what's the matter?" He asks, murmuring the words into the youngers messy hair.

"Cold," Harry answers, latching onto the older man. He's warm. Harry needs warmth. "So cold."

Sirius frowns. "Let's get you to bed," he says.

Blink.

1125 words//unedited.

sCREAMS INTO THE VOID

yOU DIDN’T EXPECT THIS, HUH???

well neither did i and i'm the author 🙃
that's the clown energy for you 🤡

•••••

thank you all so much for the lovely support! ❤ also comments are vvvv appreciated >>>

until next time, my lovelies!

(p.s in case some of u are confused, harry is losing time via dissociation.)