Desperation

Part Eight:

Grief

August 7th 1999 - Saturday - 6:00 p.m

Harry

After telling his parents about his life. Even things he never told anyone left the Burrow, needing to be alone so he could recollect himself and just be, while he worked through everything. He staggered into Sirius' room in Grimmauld Place, and fell onto the unchanged bed and curled into himself. The only comfort was the familiarity of the room, Harry hadn't changed anything in it, even when he, Ron and Hermione completely refurbished the house during the months that immediately followed the final battle. The feel of his own beating heart was soothing in its own way, it anchored him. His emotions were drowning him, and there wasn't anything anyone could do to save him from them. Everything hurt all at once, and tears wouldn't stop falling. Harry hadn't really felt it until now. The guilt, the pain, and even the good things like joy and love he held for everyone that he lost. There was no denying that he felt it now, the grief. Because, he realized, grief wasn't just the loss of the good things it was the abundance of all the bad things.

It was really too much.

He couldn't breathe.

It would be okay though, in time, because his heart was still beating.

And if he tried, he could feel the warmth of his parent's arms, the love in the tightness of Sirius', and pride in Remus' as they embraced him.

It helped Harry be strong in the face of of an immeasurable amount of pure emotion, of grief. It also gave him the strength to wake up the next morning and face the new day.

So this is the last of the chapters I had already written and needed to edit so it may be a bit before i post another chapter. Partly because my outline was very vague. However I do sorta know where I wanna go with this story. So it should not be too long of a wait for the next part. The next part is Hope and should be split into three chapters. The first of which is somewhat written... anyway...

Thanks for reading!

xoxo