" now think about what to do, think about what to say, think about how to think before voldemort comes and takes that away from you, harry. "
" how did we end up here, in the undying chaos, when we started out with a simple piece of chocola...
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"who am i?"
-ben howard, "promise"
-
Harry Potter could feel his hands start to shake as he landed on the street in a residential part of London. Tonks, he remembered, had bright pink hair and had a wily smile on her face. Moody held his staff in his hand and tapped it thrice on the ground. Harry watched in fascination as the buildings moved and created a new townhouse right between numbers eleven and thirteen.
Dementors attacked Harry and his cousin, Dudley, under a bridge in Little Whinging. The Order was sent out immediately to get the Boy-Who-Lived and bring him to Headquarters. At the meeting held before the team was sent out, Henley sat with her head down while feeling the entirety of the Order blame her. Not that they knew she drew the occurrence only a day prior.
"In you go, son," Moody nodded his head to the newly stationed house. Harry walked into the house and saw a narrow hallway. It was dusty and old; the wallpaper was curling off the wall slightly, the portraits on the walls had an inch of dust on them, and the floor was covered in a slight mold.
Voices could be heard from the open door at the end of the hall, but Harry couldn't distinguish what they were saying because Moody and the rest of the small team that brought Harry pushed past him to get to the meeting.
As he got closer, Harry saw his godfather, Lupin, and Mr. Weasley standing over the table. A small smile broke on his face before Mrs. Weasley stood in the doorway, blocking the men from sight. "Harry," she grinned as she closed the door. "Heavens, you're all right!" She approached him with open arms. "Bit peaky, but I'm afraid dinner will have to wait until after the meeting's finished. No time to explain. Straight upstairs, first door on the left. Oh, dear, if you see Henley do send her down."
"Henley?" Harry questioned as he stopped short. Mrs. Weasley didn't answer as she was already back inside the dining room with the door shut. He continued up the stairs, hearing a house-elf mutter to himself.
Harry's heart pounded with anticipation. He hadn't seen Henley since she abruptly left Little Whinging a month ago. At night he would reminisce in their little moments together that he knew meant nothing to her, but meant more to him than she knew.
With sweaty palms, Harry reached the second floor. He saw a cracked door at the end of the hallway with a slight hum escaping it. Harry's small steps showed his nervousness to see her again. A large piece of Harry was scared for his trial where it would be determined if he would be expelled or not, because Harry wouldn't be able to see Henley.
Shaking hands pushed the creaky door open to the drawing room. The humming was louder and Harry instantly recognized her. Henley's hair was half-up, half-down, curls still framing her face like a crown. Paint was smeared around her face and neck, along with her nimble fingers and jeans. A paint brush was stuck in the bun resting atop her head, a slight sweat breaking out on her forehead. A tall canvas was on an easel and Henley could be seen poking from behind it.
