HER, harry potter ²

epilogue

'You know that place between sleep and awake? that place where you still remember dreaming?
That's where I'll always love you.
That's where I'll be waiting.'

[Peter Pan]

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"Potter," McGonagall's soft voice interrupted the silence of Dumbledore's office a few days later.

It was the afternoon; an hour or so after Addie's funeral—which didn't really feel like a funeral to him. There was no coffin, no grave, no headstone just yet. The sun had been shining so bright; it was a beautiful day, which didn't seem fitting for the occasion at all. Students and Professors left flowers around a large stone by the Black Lake as a way of honouring her memory; a way of saying goodbye, but he couldn't bring himself to focus on the speeches or prayers.

All he could think about was the scrunched tissues in the palm of his hand, or the way Ginny was trying to muffle her cries into her sleeve beside him, or the way Hermione had linked her shaking arm through his to try and comfort him, or the way Ron's lip was trembling as he stared at the ground.

He folded the moving picture of a smiling Addie back into his pocket and looked up at the Professor through puffy eyes.

"I hate to put this on you so soon," McGonagall continued, her eyes sorrowful as though she was the one about to cry right now, "and we can always keep it at the castle over the summer holidays, but—"

"I'll go through her stuff," he nodded, knowing he wasn't coming back to Hogwarts next year. He managed a tight-lipped smile, but it disappeared as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"If it's too soon, I can arrange—"

"I can do it. It's okay," he lied twice. In truth, he cannot fathom being able to go through her things; nor is anything okay right now. Harry knew that if he held her gaze, she'd see right through him, so he looked away.

"She loved you a great deal, Potter. I'm sure you know that. The way she looked at you—pardon me," McGonagall said as she choked up a little. Harry glanced up at this and was surprised to see her eyes welling with tears.

She took a breath to keep herself together. Never, in all his years at Hogwarts, had he seen the Head of Gryffindor cry—and yet, now she was, right in front of him. It felt strange; like he was seeing something he shouldn't; someone so strong suddenly becoming so vulnerable. Her voice wavered as she spoke.

"It's the way your mother used to look at your father."

Instantly, he thought of the framed photograph of his parents on his bedside table. Ever since he was young, he'd always liked how fondly they were looking at each other, and how his mum kept looking at his dad with the same happiness even when he wasn't looking back. It warmed him for a moment, thinking that anyone could look at himself with such love in their eyes, let alone Addie.