August 10th 1995
Harper sat on the adumbrate floral couch, drying straying tears from her eyes. The summer hadn't been pleasant for the teenager. Following the death of Cedric and Voldemort's return, she found herself in a constant numbing depression. Between blaming herself for the return of the most powerful dark wizard of all time and the death of a dear friend, she had arrived at Grimmauld Place thanks to the Advance Guard. One week since her arrival and her momentary flicker of happiness upon seeing Sirius and her friends had faded.
The grief returned in full and no matter what she couldn't run away from it.
"Drawing?" Sirius chimed, he always managed to sound so coolheaded.
She sniffed, wiping her eyes quickly to hide she was crying. "I don't understand why this is called a Drawing Room," she eyed the once exquisite room. Large windows overlooked the street while bulky, extravagant curtains framed them. There was a large fireplace flanked by two ornate glass-fronted cabinets and an entire wall covered with a tapestry of the Black family tree. Two couches faced each other, surrounded by ebony wooden bookshelves while an elaborate writing desk stationed itself at the head of the room.
"I'm just poking fun at Ron's naivety, he asked why you needed an entire room just to draw," he chuckled as he joined her on the couch. "It actually has little to do with drawing. I think modern muggles call them living room's now which is even odder in my opinion," a tiny smirk ghosted his lips, "do we not 'live' in all rooms?"
Harper cracked a weak smile. "Depends what you class as 'living.'"
"Oh, my Harper," Sirius tutted, swinging an arm around her and hugging her close to his side. She rested her head on his shoulder as he rocked them slightly, "you are most definitely living and alive, my girl."
She sighed. "It doesn't feel like it, Sirius."
He pulled from her, knicking her chin so she looked at him. He looked far healthier than when he first escaped Azkaban. Due to the twelve years of maltreatment he prematurely aged beyond that of a man in his thirties. Harper remembered the gaunt, sunken face she first met. He was a walking corpse. Now he was the tall, well-built, darkly handsome man Lupin described. The aristocratic beauty she'd seen in photos with her father. What was it with purebloods and their air of casual elegance? She shook her head from the random blonde Slytherin that popped into her head.
"Things are... difficult, to say the least, I know Harper. But it won't stay like this forever, I promise," he smiled.
"It feels like I'll never get over this," she slumped. "And I don't want to either, I don't deserve not feeling like this, Sirius. For Cedric."
"Cedric would never want you to blame yourself," he assured, a tight clasped hand on her tiny shoulder. He shook her. "Unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, you cannot move forward. That's all you can do in this world, no matter how strong the current beats against you, or how heavy your burden, or how tragic your story is. You keep going."
She lifted her eyes to connect with his striking ones. "Keep going," she repeated.
He grinned, patting her shoulder, "that's my girl."
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June 1st 1997
Song Recommendation: Falling Apart by Michael Schulte
"Avada Kedavra!"
A blinding flash of green shot from the end of Snape's wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest.
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The Girl Who Lived (Draco Malfoy x OC)
Fanfiction"Must be tough, everyone loves you, don't they? So goddamn perfect. They don't see it but I do, Potter. I can see straight through you." "And what do you see, Malfoy?" "That you're a mess, aren't you?" She stared at him, rivalling his own expression...
