'And he's the best fuck that ever walked. He's beautiful - rich, in money and everything else; he's a rockstar to boot, trapped in the body of a fighter. And how he fought; at a state of turmoil with himself - somewhere inside his soul that only she...
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'A summer's disregard, a broken bottle top And a one man's soul They follow each other on the wind, ya know 'Cause they got nowhere to go That's why I want you to know
I'm starting with the man in the mirror I'm asking him to change his ways And no message could have been any clearer If you wanna make the world a better place Take a look at yourself and then make a change
A willow deeply scarred, somebody's broken heart And a washed-out dream They follow the pattern of the wind, ya see 'Cause they got no place to be That's why I'm starting with me'
The girl tread carefully across the dimly lit room, not wanting to wake her sleeping brother. He suffered enough through the night and rest sometimes eluded him altogether as it had ever since he began Hogwarts just two years prior. Then there was the Dursley's hatred of magic, which meant both Potters could only do their homework in the dead of the night — adding further bother to their already bothersome sleeping schedule.
They had that in common, their restlessness — along with their short fused temper, their love of MTV and 80s pop icons, their grungey style (which was equally a choice as it was habit from the Dursley's lack of generosity), Star Wars re-runs on the box set, Nintendo Game Boy, canned mandarins in syrup and butterbeer, and playing with their aunt's dusty pink rotary phone, winding the dial repeatedly whenever the living room was unoccupied.
Most of these interests were only able to be indulged in when the Dursley's were out, which, between Petunia staying at home and Dudley's private school term times aligning with Hogwarts's, was rare. For this reason, along with the issue of residing with the Dursley's in the first place, Harry and Hera Potter hated the summer holidays more than any other time of year.
That morning would be one of those treasured moments, and Hera relished at this fact as she crawled out of the window onto the small space of the roof above.
She and her younger brother, Harry, would have a little over two hours to themselves at Privet Drive while her relatives met Vernon's sister, Marge, at the train station and then enjoyed a Sunday Lunch at one of the swotty pubs frequented by the other gillet-wearing, golf-playing, London-adjacent class of people they lived near.
