Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
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He loves magic …
He loves magic …
Truly he does …
Loves what it fills him with …
Loves the utter power he has when he wields it …
But there are times when he can't stand it.
There are times when he hates it with every once of everything he is.
There are times where he wishes he were still that little 'freak' who didn't know why he was one.
And even worse …there are times when he wishes he didn't know how his parents had died or what his mother had died for.
In those moments …he hates himself.
With every ounce of everything he is.
So he runs …
No matter how cold or how hot it is,
It's the only tangible release he has.
The pounding of his heart through his body.
The sound of his feet hitting whatever land he chooses to run on.
And the slight burn in his lungs.
It's accepted no matter where you go.
Running is just …mundane.
Most people have done it at very least once in their life.
It's his connection.
His connection to people who aren't The Chosen One or The Boy Who Lived.
His connection to the ground and sand and air and water and everything else that does not constantly question his every move.
He doesn't have to be powerful to run.
Doesn't have to dress a certain way or act a certain way he can just …
He remembered when he was naive enough to think that if he won the War then it would be over.
It's not though …of course it's not.
Never will be it seems.
He still has to fake like he gives a shite.
Which he does but after twelve years of knowing, twenty-three of just being, who he is …what he is …
So he runs.
It doesn't matter.
Just keep running …
Just keep going.
Because eventually …
If he goes fast enough …
It won't burn so much.
It won't feel like he's failed as a human being, Not as the "Boy Wonder".
He won't feel like a failure.
Certainly he was successful at "Winning" the War.
He was born for that …you can't fail at something you're created for.
Not really anyway.
He'd honestly believed he was supposed to die.
Was still convinced he was.
Maybe he was.
Maybe that was why he couldn't feel anything …
Why he just didn't give a shite.
He was dead.
And was trapped in Limbo because really that's just how his fucking fucked up life played out.
Save the World, yes the World …
And get fucked.
He had right …
Could be a prick if he damn well wanted to …
Bobby Brown was fucking right …
It's his fucking prerogative.
Could be whatever the fuck he wanted.
No one could stop him.
Didn't mean people didn't try.
Merlin forbid they just leave him the fuck alone.
They wanted to help.
He knew that.
Just didn't care.
Didn't want help.
Was fine just the way he was.
Liked being a bitter young, old man.
It suited him.
He had tried not to be …
Tried to be happy …for her.
But he wasn't.
Not with her.
Not near her.
Not even inside her.
Can't imagine what it does to a guy when he's not happy inside of a beautiful woman.
But normalcy and Harry Potter did not go hand-in-hand.
Like the ultimate oxymoron.
Did not even compare to the oxymoronic idea that was
Harry Potter's Normalcy.
That was al shite of course.
He did care. (Sort of)
He just wished he didn't.
He and her had broken up.
That part was true.
As terrible as it was …
Which is just his fucking luck.
Of course what he doesn't want to be true is true.
Fate is a fucking bastard.
She's happy now and really …
(Aside from Ron's and Hermione's happiness.)
That's really all that matters.
Seamus is a good man anyways …
He makes her happy.
And that …well that even makes him a little Happy.
Just a little.
But He wants more.
He wants more ...
Just for Him.