Two burning hearts that dared to break
Remeber, nobody said that it would last forever.
Harry Potter, the boy who lived, had always felt as if everyone he loves, he loses. This still applied when he fell head over heals for her. They were what you'd...
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"You brought us to France!?"
y/n pov
"Ok, make sure to hold the bandages really tight." I reminded.
"I will. Can we go now? I'm starving." Ron whined.
I'm going to attempt to apparate us without hurting Ron's arm more. Hermione said he still needed a few more days, which we don't have.
I put my hand on Ron's shoulder and thought of where I wanted to go.
I felt the swirling, nauseiating feeling consume us.
I hit the hard leafy ground with a thud.
"Ron? Ron, is your arm ok?" I asked as I quickly got up and hurried over to where he had landed.
"Yeah, yeah, stings a bit but it's fine." He answered as he slowly sat up and examined over the wound.
He looked around at our new surroundings.
"Where are we?"
"France."
"France!" He repeated loudly. "You brought us to France!?"
"Well, not just any place in France. My old house."
"Oh, yeah, that makes it make sense." He sarcastically responded.
I rolled my eyes and helped him up.
"See over there?" I pointed to a large treehouse, still in perfect condition. "That's where we're going."
"That's your old house?" Ron asked in amazement.
"No, it's a tree house. The manor is about a mile down the road."
Ron looked more than impressed as we made our way over.
I helped Ron climb the ladder to the two story treehouse. When we got up to the porch, I raised my wand to the lock on the door.
"Alohamora."
The lock clicked open and I pushed open the door to the familar space. Inside, was small living area, a cozy kitchen, and spiraling stairs that led up to a little loft.
"I used to stay here. To get away from the trouble at home." I said as I walked further in and looked around. Everything looked the same as I had left it all five years ago.
Ron clicked the deluminator and sent light onto all of the empty candles.
I picked up a picture frame sitting on the book shelf.
It was a picture of Melody and I when we were twelve. She knew how horrible my home situation was and would always be here to comfort me when I needed her.
I still can't get that thought of her out of my head from the other night. Despite there being no way that it could be Melody, it was still keeping me up at night.
