“Where are you running?” Fleur murmured absently too quiet for the disappearing figure of Harry to hear.
After the horrors of the maze, she was certain there was a certain…shared pain they held. Something which certainly drew her to him. But for some reason, while the darkness shadowed his eyes as obviously as day, he seemed to shrug off any desire to share the burden.
It was no matter. She had the whole summer to fix that.
She found him sitting under a tree looking up at the evening sky. He looked...vulnerable, and every bit the 15 year old he was. She had seen him face down a dragon with nothing but a broom and the determination of men three times his age, yet the events of the graveyard and dementors had shaken him to his very core. As she approached, she could see that he recognized her, his shoulders tightening and his face slipping back into the mask he wore most days.
Masks were something she knew well. Something she could work with. Something she could help him do without.
She sat down next to him, folding her legs beneath her, and they sat there for a time, the gentle breeze giving a nice respite from the warm weather. Neither spoke, but Fleur wondered if either of them needed to. They shared scars now, scars that weren't visible to those who hadn't been in the maze, experienced the horror of what they'd seen.
"I never got to say thank you again, 'Arry," she said quietly. "I...I was terrified in the maze. It was a nightmare and all I could think of was no longer seeing Gabby or my parents ever again. You suffered far more in the graveyard, but for what it's worth, you...you have my gratitude."
Tentatively, she reached out and grabbed his hand, he tensed at first, shocked by the contact, but he quickly relaxed, cupping her hand ever-so slightly, as if he were unsure of what to do. She squeezed his hand, willing him to understand that he was free to unburden his pain on her, that they could share it together, this new bond of hurt linking them together in an odd sort of familiarity.
"I don't know what to say to anyone," he spoke softly, not meeting her eyes, continuing to stare out over the grounds. "Everyone keeps asking me how I'm doing, but I don't have any answered. It's like there's a..a fog in my brain and I can't think of what to say or do or even tell anyone what I'm feeling. Everyone seems to happy for it to be summer, and I don't want to burden them with these problems."
"I would be willing to listen, if you'd like," she said, giving his hand another squeeze, her thumb brushing over his comfortingly. He shook his head.
"You're leaving soon, I won't burden you with it." Slowly, she reached down and gripped his chin, angling his face up so he was forced to look at her.
"I will stay...if you want. I'm...I'm not the easiest person to get along with, but I know a small bit of what you're going through. Perhaps someone like that would help? If nothing else, I can listen." He looked in her eyes, searching for some sort of deception or ill intent, a practiced effort, she realized. What had he gone through in his life? Finally he nodded, blushing as she sent him a smile.
Harry was running from the pain, the hurt of everything he had been through and she was going to spend the entire summer ensuring that he had someone to finally turn and face it with.