prologue

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'When he found out she was dying,

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'When he found out she was dying,

Everything lost its meaning.

How could he ever live without her?

Only see her alive when dreaming?

The hospital sheets were stiff,

And her veins were turning black.

How would he ever breathe again,

If she was the air he'd lack?

All she wanted was to stay,

But that's exactly what she couldn't do.

So he'd hold her a little closer,

And push away the déjà vu.

As the snow fell around them,

'I love you' fell from his lips.

But although his love was requited,

Soon their story would eclipse.

He now cried for the girl

He'd grown to call his everything,

Broken at the foot of her bed,

All he knew was aching.

Her death became his insomnia

As heatwaves became hallucinations.

How will he ever win this war,

With his heart in ruinations?'

[georgia lee]








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4 Privet Drive, The Deathly Hallows.

Staring at the ceiling in the dark, fatigue burned Harry's eyes. A sliver of morning light peaked through his closed blinds, hot as it met his skin, and he groaned, knowing he'd been awake the whole night.

He already knew he couldn't sleep without her, but this past summer month had only proved it.

Harry would reach around the sheets in the middle of the night, instinctively trying to find her—just for his sleepless heart to ache as her familiar skin never met his hands. The reality of her absence physically hurt his chest, and it gave pain a whole new meaning. The only way to describe it was ache, ache, ache. Helpless aching, for comfort, for familiarity, for her. The aching need for her arms around him, for her fingers in his hair, for her lingering scent of lavender, for her, her, her.

He'd see her in his dreams; close enough to touch, to hold. She would feel so real in his arms, but then he'd wake up, and the emptiness would fill him all over again. Harry saw her in his nightmares, too—and whenever he'd close his eyes. Over and over again she was in the Death Eater's arms, her body limp and lifeless, and always too far away to save. He would run to her, but it always felt slow, and she'd vanish before Harry could save her every single time. He'd toss and turn as the brutal summer heat eclipsed his bedroom, he'd flip his pillow, he'd kick off his askew sheets—but he couldn't get Addie and the aching need for her presence out of his head.

Even later that day when the Order came to the house—empty, except for him—, she was still constantly in the back of his mind, and the photo of her remained folded in the pocket of his jeans. A smile met his lips for the first time that summer as Hagrid, Ron, Hermione, and more familiar faces came into view once he opened the door—but then he thought of Addie again, and how, even with so many familiar faces at his doorstep, none of them would ever be her, and the smile quickly disappeared.

"How're you holding up, mate?" Ron asked him quietly as the group made their way into the living room, which was bare of furniture after the Dursley's had left only a few days prior. Harry felt a lump form in his throat and shook his head.

"I'm not. I can't get her out of my head."

"Me neither," Ron sighed. "I'm always here, though, y'know. If you ever need to vent. Keep that in mind, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry cleared his throat. "I will."

At this, Alastor Moody moved past them and into the living room; his glass eye whizzing around and walking stick hitting the wooden floorboards loudly. "We'll have time for a cozy catch-up later!" he bellowed, silencing the chatter, and Harry and Ron walked in after him. "We've got to get the hell out of here...and soon!"











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a/n:

last book of the series. omg.

do u guys have any theories?

how do u think it's gonna end?

favourite book so far out of paper planes, constellations and angels?

fave chapter from angels?

ily all sm! expect chapter one very soon <3
-g

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