InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "No apologies. No regrets."

Molly Anne Weasley (weasleymama) wrote in resurrectio_rpg,
@ 2008-09-21 22:27:00

Who: Molly Weasley and Harry Potter
What: Catching up and lending an ear
When: Sunday night (February 21, 1998)
Where: The Burrow
Rating: probably no more than PG
Status: In progress

Molly had been somewhat surprised to receive an owl from Harry, but she was looking forward to having dinner with him as soon as he arrived. She was concerned about him, as he had seemed troubled in his owls, and she hoped he would tell her what was going on once he arrived. Arthur was due to arrive home at any minute, and she hoped he would be home in time for dinner and to chat with Harry as well, since Harry had mentioned that he had something for her husband to add to his collection of Muggle things.

She sighed as she got up from her place at the table, where she had been supervising the stove where she had onion soup simmering, with beef potpies and bread baking in the oven. As she had never learned how to cook for just two or three people after years of cooking for her family of nine, there was enough food to feed a small army, and she was quite certain that she and Arthur would be eating the leftovers for the next couple of nights, depending on how much Harry ate while he was visiting. It only took her a few minutes to set the table for three, and levitate the meal she had prepared to the table as well. After she hung up her apron and put the towel she had slung over her shoulder back on the counter beside the sink, she sat down in her usual spot again, waiting patiently for both Harry and Arthur to arrive.

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harryj_potter
2008-09-21 11:35 pm UTC (link)

Plain and simple life was a complicated mess of wrong turns and hurtful prides. No matter what, people would take things wrong and believe what they wanted to believe. The truly hardest thing to accomplish was understanding and forgiveness. Harry was having a tough time with both. He was sick and tired of feeling as if he had to monitor what he said and felt he was upsetting everyone no matter what. What he did was never good enough for those around him. He was only one bloody person and just because he couldn’t handle everything peacefully and calmly, did not make him a bad person. Was he defensive? Yes, but he felt he had every reason to be! He was used to questioning people’s motives, one of the only things that kept him alive so long. It was hard to just switch that off and welcome everyone with open arms and bright smiles, especially when others were not doing the same to him. Didn’t they realize how he still felt he was on the outside looking in? He didn’t belong and he really felt he never would.

Appearing at the Burrow with a pop, Harry pulled his jumper tighter to his body. Why was it so bloody cold? Maybe it was just him and he was finding it colder than it actually was. Nevertheless, it was the least of his worries for sure. Not that he wanted to think of any of that now. He was going to spend time with two of his favorite people in the entire universe. He needed something to warm him up and no place better than the Burrow. It would do him good to get away and have a change of scenery. Plus, there were only good memories for Harry here. Nothing of death and darkness here to creep into his mind and steal him away from the present. He could kick back and act like a seventeen year old, which was about time, really. He had been acting as if he was thirty since he was six years old.

With a real smile, Harry reached up and knocked on the door, after stepping over a pecking chicken and an old boot.

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weasleymama
2008-09-22 12:36 pm UTC (link)

Molly looked up when she heard a knock on the door, and quickly rose to answer it. She knew it could only be Harry, as she wasn't expecting anyone else this evening, and her own children and Arthur knew that it wasn't required of them to knock, as the Burrow was their home. She offered Harry a bright smile as she opened the door and stepped aside for him to enter, opening her arms for a hug. She wasn't entirely sure what she should expect from their conversation this evening, but she was willing to do whatever she could to help her surrogate son out, as his owl had made it sound like he was overly worried about something.

"Good evening, Harry. Come in, dinner's on the table, and Arthur should be coming in any minute now." She gestured toward the table, indicating to the younger wizard that he should sit, before she began bustling about, giving him a hearty portion of soup and a pot pie before slicing the bread and buttering a piece for him.

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harryj_potter
2008-09-22 04:21 pm UTC (link)

Letting out a sigh of relief, Harry stepped into the home, followed by stepping into Mrs. Weasley’s embrace. It had been so long since someone had hugged him and he held on a little longer than absolutely necessary. He had a tiny frown on his face when he let go, as if it was unsafe without Mrs. Weasley to shield him. She had always been a motherly figure to him and losing that would - well, Harry could not even think on it.

Plopping down in the chair, the smile was back on Harry’s face. He was extremely hungry since he had not eaten too much over the past few months. Depression had a way of doing that. It did not make any sense to Harry why it was unacceptable for him to go through such a bout. He had done something most twice his age hadn’t been able to accomplish. He was a bloody monster just because he wanted others to leave him alone for a bit and didn’t want to talk and pour his heart out. He needed time to cope, to come to terms with what the past truly meant for him. The energy to do any of that had not been there and he had been so afraid of breaking down. He couldn’t let them see that, couldn’t let them know how broken he felt deep inside. Certainly, he couldn’t let them know that he was still considering leaving the magical world forever, not looking back and starting an entirely new life. The stares and the untruthful opinions were too much. He couldn’t keep defending what he wasn’t even sure was still there. He wasn’t the chosen one; he was just the unlucky one. Out of all the possible people, Voldemort had targeted him due to some outside force he allowed to dictate his life. Nothing of the sort was ever going to happen to Harry. He was going to make sure of it.

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, waiting for her to finish before he ate anything. He needed something like this, a chance to get away from it all. Oh how he wished he could just stay here and not have to worry about going back there. Here people did not judge him harshly and there were no expectations of what he could do or to what his worth was. The Weasleys wanted to protect him and not the other way around. It was a warm feeling to know he had someone like that, someone that let him fall apart and actually listened to his beliefs and feelings. It meant the world to him but he wasn’t entirely sure how to express it.

The weight of the world felt like it was resting on Harry’s shoulders and he could feel the prickling of tears stinging his eyes. He hadn’t cried in so long, he had started to believe he was incapable of it. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry nodded, desperately trying to retain the composure he needed. He was not a five-year-old boy that was going to bawl his eyes out and cling to his mum. Actually, he had never had that. He had never been able to curl up beside someone in safety, in knowing that the rest of the world was not such a threat after all. It was all about a sturdy foundation and no matter what others said against him - they had that, he didn’t. He was not able to just pick up and move on. He had never had someone to hold his hand and wipe away his tears. It wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t sure how to react emotionally. He was to keep quiet and not make a sound, being a good little pawn and unwanted life. So desperately did he want that warm comfort, more than probably anything in the world. While others dreamed of fame and fortune, he dreamed of family and love.

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weasleymama
2008-09-23 10:47 am UTC (link)

"You're welcome, dear." Molly replied, moving to take the seat directly across from Harry. She watched him closely as he ate, nibbling on a piece of buttered bread, as she preferred to wait until Arthur joined them before she had dinner herself. To her, the teen in front of her looked very troubled, and though she wanted to know what was going on, she knew that the best way to get things out of teenagers was to wait until they were ready to begin the conversation on their terms.

Considering what Harry had gone through in his short lifetime, Molly could only imagine what was bothering him, but she was determined to do whatever she could to help him out. He was like another son to her, and she took her duties as a mother seriously. Though she may not have been there for him in his younger years, she was here now, and she was certain that any comfort she could lend him would be well worth the effort. The Burrow would always be a safe place for Harry, as she and Arthur wanted nothing more than to protect him and help him lead a normal life, one he had been deprived of thus far because of the war and the life he had led while he was living his aunt and uncle. They might not have much in the way of material possessions, but Molly knew she and Arthur were rich in love, and that was what Harry needed now.

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harryj_potter
2008-09-23 12:39 pm UTC (link)

The rising depression was too much for Harry to handle and before he knew it, everything was spilling out. Everything that he had held in for years, in fact, not just the last couple that really intensified in the war. He dropped the bread as tears streamed down his face. Cautiously, he touched his cheeks, feeling the wetness there. It was as if he was in a foggy dream and nothing was making sense, nothing would ever make sense again. Dropping his hands, he balled them into fists, staring down at the plate of food. He wasn’t weak, he wasn’t. He could handle this on his own, without anyone there. He had survived on his own, all his life and he didn’t want anyone thinking he wasn’t capable of it now, that he was fragile and breakable.

Sniffing, Harry shook his head, trying to stop it but unable to now that he had started. Then, to make matters worse he just started talking or blubbering more like it. “I-I-I-everything,” a sob broke off the rest of his shattered words, making him even more furious, but at himself, not really anything else. Standing up, Harry began to pace, which did help him feel a little more in control. Once he had a little more wits about him, he was able to speak, but it was still more personal than he wanted. “Everything is wrong. I’m wrong. I don’t fit in. Maybe I never did and just now realize it. They look at me, like - like - I dunno but it is worse than it was. They think I don’t see - I do. Sick of being on the outside looking in. Sick of having to defend every move or word I make. I’m so angry, furious with all of it. I hate it. I hate everything. I hate my life. I hate who I am. No one deserves to have me around. I do nothing but ruin everything.”

Harry paused, tears falling faster. He sank back into his former chair, looking at Mrs. Weasley for the first time. “I should have died. Would have been better.” He paused again, trembling slightly now. “Should have died,” he whispered one last time.

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