zoia, harry potter

oh great artiste

Things have gotten worse and no one has any idea why. Zoia got better for a second but the next minute, she got worse at an exponential rate.

Not to mention, she loves her hair. She loves her hair.

Why does she have to be allergic to the potion that's supposed to be the most effective with the least side effects; the potion that cured her mother.

She hates herself, she hates how she has become, and she hates how she looks.

She loathes it.

She wouldn't even walk past a mirror and if she had to, she avoided as much as she could to look at her head.

She looks sick and it makes her sick.

"C'mon, draw us," said Harry encouragingly, who's sitting behind her with his legs on the side of Zoia's body, and arms wrapping her from behind.

Zoia has been staying at St. Mungo's for months now since she has gotten weaker and weaker. Harry never leaves her side unless there's an emergency at work which is slim to none.

He never really comes to work which really affects his whole performance and is risking getting fired but he doesn't care. He truly doesn't give a single shit about that.

"But how can I draw us if I can't see us," Zoia chuckled.

"Here," Harry pulled out his phone and put it on the bed table, next to Zoia's drawing book. "Oh wait, we have to take a picture of ourselves."

He then opened the camera and made them take a selfie. Zoia had to push aside the sickening feeling from looking at herself.

"Are you sure you want me to draw you like this? Not you with your hair that you called your crown?" Zoia jokes, dismissing the guilt that she's the cause of it.

"You're my crown," Harry kissed her cheek.

Zoia looked at the picture for quite a long time without doing anything and Harry knows exactly what is going through her mind.

"You look beautiful, don't ever doubt that for a second," Harry whispered to her. "And I'm not the only one saying this Zo, all the healers said the same thing."

"I look ugly without my hair."

"Stop it, that's not true. Even Ginny said you look hotter when you're bald and I agree," Harry grinned before kissing her shoulder.

As Zoia was sketching a picture of them, Harry kept his gaze at her concentrated face. With the sound of tv in the background and the warm presence of Zoia, it truly comforts Harry the most and he wouldn't be anywhere else but here.

"I can already see us," Harry beamed, seeing the picture slowly coming together.

"Yeah," Zoia chuckled.

While she was drawing, he sang Do the Hippogriff, a song that always reminds him of her. The whole time she was smiling which was enough for him. It gives him a sense of peace to see she's happy.

"Oh no, Ron's calling you Har," said Zoia, which stops her from drawing.

"What does he want," Harry scoffed before answering the phone.

Zoia sketched more of her drawing though she can't add more elements since Harry's using the phone.

"Can't you just ask someone else?. . . Fuck Ron, please I can't."

The conversation went on which Harry sounds to be more frustrated by the second as he wrapped his other arm tighter around Zoia's waist.

"Fine." Harry snapped before harshly putting down his phone.