I Set Fire to the Rain

It took me a minute or two to realize that I was five years old again, running around in circles in a large meadow. The grass was tall and healthy, the sun reflecting off my blonde hair.
I wasn’t watching the scene but experiencing it, it felt nice to be young again. Looking around I saw my parents lying on a blanket not too far off with a picnic basket next to them as they watched me enjoy my child innocence.

For a moment I thought it was normal to see my parents but after remembering why I was even dreaming I remembered about their death. Tears starting to gather in my eyes, this wasn’t a dream anymore but more of a nightmare to have to experience this joy and happiness of seeing them again only to be ripped away from them when I woke up.

Running towards them I talked them in a hug, well as much as a five year old could tackle
their parents.

*“Czy masz zabawa” my mom murmured pulling me into a hug, I paused slightly. She wasn’t speaking French but Polish.

I looked up at her confused, **“Que?” I asked her in french.

***“Mówiłam ci, że kiedy tylko ojciec Twój i ja można rozmawiać w języku naturalnym” she
murmured, what was confusing me more was that I completely understood what she was
saying.

The scene changed abruptly to me still being a five year old but in my bedroom in the cottage in the country side of France. I was being tucked into bed but this time I wasn’t experiencing the memory, I was just an observer as my parents tucked in the five year old, they were speaking in English now.

“What story do you want to hear now?” they asked her softly.

“The one with the little girl who moved to France with her parents” she grinned.

“Is there a reason that you want to hear this story every night?” my father mused, running his
hand through her hair.

“It reminds me of us! How we used to live in a place where they speak that language you and mommy speak all the time. That way I feel like a princess because all the stories you tell me there’s a princess” she laughed; it panged me to know that even though that little girl was me. She would never have these memories in just a few years.

I watched my mother tell my younger self the story I had been asking for, in the story the little girl I had been talking about moved to France after someone tried to kidnap her from her parents in Poland.

I gathered enough information to realize that it had been death eaters who had attempted to kidnap the little girl in the story.

Eventually I was pulled out of my dream by Hermione pushing me awake; I got her to stop by
throwing a pillow at her. She laughed hugging me before she pulled away.

“So I heard you talked to Harry” she murmured as I looked through her book collection.

“Hey Hermione, do you know any Polish?” I inquired as I kept searching for any book with different languages.

“No I don’t, sorry. Why?” she asked confused.

I shook my head; “It’s not important, I’ll figure it out later” assuring her I stood up.

“So what time is it?” I asked her as I changed into jeans and a sweater, I didn’t feel like being in uniform especially sense it was Friday night and we didn’t have classes tomorrow.

“Just before dinner, but Harry asked me to get you. He needs to talk to you” admitting she sent me a smirk

“Do you know what he wants?” I asked her.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t” was all she let out as I walked out of the dormitory putting my wand in my back pocket.

“You wanted to talk to me?” I asked Harry softly seeing him in the common room.

“Can we talk while walking to the great hall?” he inquired standing up from his seat, I simply nodded following him out the common room.

“We have a Hogsmead trip tomorrow and I was hoping we could go together?” asking nervously he stopped walking and looked at me.

Looking up at him I shook my head, “Harry, you ended things telling me that it was for my own safety remember?” reminding him I chuckled.

“I didn’t think it would be this painful to be separated from you; do you have any idea what I have to do not too loose it when I see you flirt with those guys? Especially George or even Dean or Seamus?” he informed me.

“Harry, I was in a dark place when we split. Cedric’s death took a toll on me and then your decision didn’t help. I’m emotionally stable now after spending the summer alone, but I can’t handle it if you decide it’s not worth it and end things again. I’d rather not get hurt again”

Sighing he shook his head; “One date, that’s all I’m asking for. After that if you decide it’s better for you to stay away from me then I’ll respect your wishes” he pleaded.

I sent him a soft smile; “I’ll think about it”. Once he realized I was agreeing to what he wanted he grinned pressing his lips against my cheek before taking my hand and continuing to
walk; pulling me along.

“So how did the nap go? Did you figure any things out?” he asked softly.

“Apparently I can speak Polish” I murmured as we entered the great hall, Harry looked at me confused sense he was used to my french and English. But I didn’t blame him, even I didn’t know of my third language.