The Housekeeper [h.s.]

Old friends

Harry's POV:

There's an approximate number of 365 days in a year. Now, if you multiply that by 5, you get 1825. So, with that said, there's approximately 1825 days of joy, sadness, excitement, anger or whatever emotion you may have during 5 years. And those 5 years, those 1825 days, those 43 825 hours, I was going to spend locked up behind bars, drawing a line on the wall for each day in hell, and every day got worse and worse.

You change behind those bars. Your time locked up changes you. Yes, that was mainly the point, that you would come out to heaven after all those years in hell and all of a sudden be an angel on earth. But your mind changed. Your face changed. Your personality changed. I had only been there for three months and I was already depressed. The desperation became too strong, and I couldn't handle it. I had always been weak, never being able to carry any burden. Only other's burdens, not mine, but for the people I loved, I stood as steady as the mountains, strong and courageous like a lion. Nothing would come in my way.

But no one were here to carry mine.

Three months. Three awful months without seeing her beautiful face, flawless face. Her complexion was so fair. Yet it wasn't, speaking literally. It was unfair to me that she looked so good, and I couldn't get enough of her. Now, I didn't get her at all. Not even a little.

The fact that Lucy hadn't visited me disturbed me, yet it didn't surprise me. I mean of course she wouldn't wanna come see me. She was probably ashamed of me, and despised me. I understood that, even though the thought broke me. If there was one thing that kept me going, and one thing that kept me from crying every night, it was her. She was that one thing. It was vexatious that she had that effect on me, that I was so devoted to her. Because when I lost her, I lost my gravity.

Some people say that if you dream about someone, they are thinking about you.

If that was true, Lucy had to think about me a lot.

"Styles, you have a visitor."

My head tilted down from looking at the roof. An officer locked up the door and nodded for me to go with him. I furrowed my eyebrows. I wasn't expecting anyone. But I followed him nonetheless.

Walking through the halls of angry prisoners who cried for help, cursing and screaming how much they wanted to die, was truly something. I knew for sure that I would be traumatised for the rest of my life.

"Sir, I'm not excpecting anyone," I said carefully, not wanting to make the officer angry. They did have a short temper.

"That's not my problem, inmate. You're obligated to see all your visitors. If they are enemies you'll just have to deal with it. That's the law," he said dryly and kept walking, his body straightened and his footsteps steady. I sighed quietly and followed him to the end of the corridor. He opened the door to the visitation room. I had now gotten my own where nobody else was. Thankfully.

My jaw dropped to the floor and my eyes widened. My body started to shake. I swallowed, hearing the door being shut behind me.

"Ron," I hissed.

"Well, well. Won't you look at that. Harry in orange! Never thought I'd live to see that, but I guess people surprise you." He snickered.

"Why don't you just shut the fuck up considering you're the one who got me in here, and you should've been in this orange suit, not me," I spat.

I wasn't one for swearing, although I had done it before when I had gotten mad, but nevertheless I had learned that when you were to sit in prison for another five years, you simply did not care whatsoever.