We're stuck here in this tent, wandering aimlessly—the two of us alone. And I wonder from where you draw your faith in me. You believe in this crazy trip to find Horcruxes, your faith never wavering, and I don't know why. I'm the one chosen for this task, and even I doubt that it makes sense when the hours flow on interminably without even a hint of a lead on where we should go next. Hell, I don't even know how to destroy the one Horcrux we've procured since the sword's gone missing. Your hero hasn't a clue what he is doing, but thankfully, you know me for the hero I'm not. Just that boy who gets incredibly lucky when death comes knocking. And you're the first to tell me so when I get a bit too big for my trousers. It's obnoxious, but it's one of the reasons I love you, I guess. You allow me to be Harry, without adding 'The Boy Who Lived' onto the end. Your expectations are low where I'm concerned. Perhaps some would think it an insult, but I see it for the breathing room it is.
And a piece of us is missing. I know you miss him. I miss him too. But these hours alone, depending only upon one another because we have no choice, has made me look at you in a different way than I ever have. I know I shouldn't. We're friends, and it's probably best left at that. But I can't. You believe in me like no one ever has and that touches my heart. You have more faith in me than I have in myself.
I can see you through the flap in the tent, the light of the fire reflecting upon your face with a warm glow as you stand guard, and it calls me forth. I sit down beside you and wrap a blanket around your shivering shoulders. You smile your thanks and it draws a smile from my own lips. Even though the night is dark and we're no closer to completing this journey, you still manage to find a small of encouragement for me.
"It's going to be okay," you whisper, and scoot in closer to share your blanket. "We'll figure this out."
And it's said with such conviction, that even my faith is buoyed by your confidence, and I think just maybe we will.
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We're stuck here in this tent, wandering aimlessly—the two of us alone. And I wonder from where you draw your faith in me. You believe in this crazy trip to find Horcruxes, your faith never wavering, and I don't know why. I'm the one chosen for this task, and even I doubt that it makes sense when the hours flow on interminably without even a hint of a lead on where we should go next. Hell, I don't even know how to destroy the one Horcrux we've procured since the sword's gone missing. Your hero hasn't a clue what he is doing, but thankfully, you know me for the hero I'm not. Just that boy who gets incredibly lucky when death comes knocking. And you're the first to tell me so when I get a bit too big for my trousers. It's obnoxious, but it's one of the reasons I love you, I guess. You allow me to be Harry, without adding 'The Boy Who Lived' onto the end. Your expectations are low where I'm concerned. Perhaps some would think it an insult, but I see it for the breathing room it is.
And a piece of us is missing. I know you miss him. I miss him too. But these hours alone, depending only upon one another because we have no choice, has made me look at you in a different way than I ever have. I know I shouldn't. We're friends, and it's probably best left at that. But I can't. You believe in me like no one ever has and that touches my heart. You have more faith in me than I have in myself.
I can see you through the flap in the tent, the light of the fire reflecting upon your face with a warm glow as you stand guard, and it calls me forth. I sit down beside you and wrap a blanket around your shivering shoulders. You smile your thanks and it draws a smile from my own lips. Even though the night is dark and we're no closer to completing this journey, you still manage to find a small of encouragement for me.
"It's going to be okay," you whisper, and scoot in closer to share your blanket. "We'll figure this out."
And it's said with such conviction, that even my faith is buoyed by your confidence, and I think just maybe we will.