Companion
(The Train to Nowhere; Post Mortem)
This drabble contains spoilers.
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The train slows down, and for a moment Harry wonders if he has arrived to his destination. It’s too soon, though. He knows it’s too soon, and so he doesn’t move.
Instead, someone comes in.
Someone whose magic shakes and swirls around him in a way not even Tom’s magic could do. If danger could be a cloak, it would wrap around the newcomer like an armour, cover his limbs and warn off those who have half a mind of stepping in his way. Harry remains seated.
The stranger stands still until the doors of the train close and it starts moving again. Then he turns.
He turns and Harry sees a face he has seen in numerous mirrors, countless of times. And he knows, knows, knows who this person is. He thinks of Peter, thinks of what he already knows, and then he’s already standing up. The stranger stares at him, green eyes aglow with something Harry cannot relate to.
There are words Harry knows he’ll want to say – afterwards. At some point when he believes that this actually happenined, he’ll say “I should have done this,” and regret a missed chance. Now, though, he doesn’t know which words to say, which questions to ask or what to do.
So he moves to stand in front of… in front of a Harry who had stepped into the train from another station. Stands in front of who could have been him, but isn’t. He stands and says nothing, and it takes him the distance of two more stations to realize that maybe nothing needs to be said.
Maybe it’s enough that they’re both there, and neither of them is alone.
Maybe it’s enough that now they know of each other, and even if they remain silent and never exchange a word, part ways to never see one another again, they would know that they are not alone in this madness.
marlowfication 