Ray of Light

Drabble - for Rare Pairing Month - the_pimp_cane.

Ray of Light

She doesn't really know what happened. She doesn't know how she came to be where she was, with who she was with. She doesn't know and she doesn't care. All she knows is that it was perfect - no, not like a fairytale - perfect in that it was real and it had happened. Unlike a fairytale, the feelings, the reminders are all really there.

She doesn't know how it happened, but she remembers. She remembers and she'll never forget.

She was crying. She was hiding in a small abandoned classroom - crying. She wanted to die. She wanted to disappear off the face of the Earth. No one would miss her. Most people would probably be grateful. She wished she had the courage to just do the world a huge favour. But she didn't. She couldn't. She was a coward. She was too afraid.

The sound of footsteps startled her out of her misery induced haze - footsteps that were coming her way. The door to her sanctuary opened; letting a beam of light into her dark refuge.

She sat up quickly, trying quite futilely to wipe away all traces of the tears that had, and still were, streaming down her face. No one could see her cry. No one. She didn't want to show weakness. Crying was showing weakness. She didn't want to cry.

But the gods had never given her what she wanted.

"Hello?"

The voice was unmistakable. He was the last person she wanted to see. The last thing she needed was for the enemy to see that she had flaw. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her in a moment of weakness - to see her cry.

But the gods had never given her what she wanted.

"Bulstrode?"

She turned away, embarrassed and ashamed. She curled up even tighter, as if she could disappear. But her size prevented that. Her size prevented everything.

"You okay?" She hadn't realised he had come so close. But then again, she never realised anything. She didn't know anything important. She hardly knew anything at all.

A warm hand on her shoulder pulled her out of her wallow in self pity. It seemed as if the warm hand reached out and touched her icy soul. She looked up, red rimmed eyes meeting a shocking green - a shocking green that was filled with concern.

She wasn't worthy of that concern. She wasn't worth it. She wasn't worth anything. Not to anyone. Not worth anyone's time. Not worth all the trouble she had caused. She wished he'd just see that - see what everybody else saw: nothing; a big hulk of worthless nothing. Maybe when he finally saw it, he'll turn her away and shun her. He didn't need to be here. If he left now; it'd hurt less.

But he didn't leave. He didn't ask questions. He just sat down with her, with a hand on her shoulder, and let her cry.

He never really said anything to her. Afterwards, they went their separate ways, with nothing more than a 'thank you' from her, and a 'you're welcome' from him.

She went to that particular room a lot. He seemed to be in there a lot as well. They'd talk sometimes. Other times they'd just enjoy the peace and quiet neither ever got outside that haven.

After he had been in there, it seemed she couldn't think anywhere else. He had made her feel safe, for the first time; he had made it seem okay to cry. In there, she felt like it wasn't a weakness to cry.

He smiled at her all the time now. When they passed in the halls, he'd smile at her. When their eyes met across halls or classrooms, he'd smile at her. When their housemates faced each other off in the halls, he'd smile at her.

One day she walked into their classroom, as she now called it, to find him crying. She didn't say a word. She didn't ask any questions. In the end, she just held him.

Then he had kissed her. She didn't want that. She didn't want to be another conquest, used and discarded. She didn't want to lose the only friend she had, her only comfort.

But the gods had never given her what she wanted. Instead, they'd given her what she needed. They'd given her Harry Potter.

He made her feel important. He made her feel as if she mattered. He made her feel as if it was okay to be her.

Girls are meant to be made of glass. They're meant to be like delicate porcelain dolls. They're meant to giggle and squeal. They're meant to be a thousand things that she isn't.

But, to Harry, that's okay too. To Harry, she's everything.

It's a little ironic, she thinks back now, that she had found everything in someone that was meant to mean nothing to her.

She was meant to marry a pureblood. She was meant to become a Death Eater. She was meant to despise Harry Potter.

But then again, she's never been what she was meant to be.

But that's okay to Harry, and that was all that mattered.

In that moment, when the beam of light had invaded her dark refuge, all that time ago, Harry Potter had become the ray of light in her heart, and the moment he had touched her, he had reached for her soul.

It's easy to think that he will leave her. That he'll see what everyone else sees - nothing but a bulk of a girl. That he'll see the darkness and uselessness that she is. That when he does, he'll turn away in disgust.

But when he looks at her, she knows he never will, because it's all in his eyes.

Sometimes she wants to change. She wants to be worthy of him. She wants to be thin and beautiful and delicate as china and glass.

But when he looks at her, she knows that's not what he wants, because it's all in his eyes.

She can't change - and she never will. But that's okay to Harry too - in fact that's more than okay to Harry.

He loves her just as she is. He loves her for everything that she is. He loves her just for being her: Millicent Bulstrode.

And she loves him too.