Chapter 5
The air was thick and warm with the scent of the sea and the remnants of food Sirius had attempted to cook earlier. Music was flowing through the open windows. But none of it reached Harry, it was as if there was a glass between him and the world, muting everything, keeping him alienated. It was like this after the war and it hadn't stopped. The distance. The hollowness. The feeling of being trapped inside a cage, the weight of his own thoughts pressing down on him. It was unbearable.
Sirius was watching him. Harry didn't need to look up to feel the weight of his godfather's stare. The concern. The expectation. Like he was supposed to give something back.
- Are you alright? - there was the same question Sirius asked everyday, the same one everyone else has been asking since forever, when they thought there was something wrong with him.
And Harry knew the right answer.
- Yeah - it was the simple answer, the lie came easily to his lips without even thinking, and it didn't matter that it wasn't true, because he didn’t even know what the truth was anymore.
There was no real reason, no logical explanation for why he was so restless, his hands wouldn't stay still, nails scratching idly at his forearm, his fingers pushing through his hair. His skin too sticky.
Sirius didn’t call him on it, just nodded slowly, pretending to be interested in one of his vinyls, but suddenly the silence between them felt too loud, his own thoughts even louder. The villa felt too small. Suffocating.
He couldn't breathe. He needed to move. To escape. So without an explanation he just left, and Sirius didn't try to stop him.
He didn’t have a destination in mind, his steps were fast, purposeful, as if he had somewhere to be, but he only needed to get away from himself, from the voice in his head. The one that never stopped. That reminded him of everything that was gone, everything he had lost, everything he couldn’t seem to hold onto. The war was over, but it hadn’t left him. It lingered in his bones, in the way he moved through life without feeling like he was really there. Watching his own life from the outside.
Soon, his pace slowed, and he let himself wander, the heat of the sun pressing down on his back. His feet carried him down unfamiliar streets, past bustling corners and shaded courtyards, until the hum of the town faded into the rhythmic hush of the waves. It wasn’t until his feet met the sand and the peebles that he realized where he was.
The last time he had stood on that same spot of the beach, Pansy had been with him. She had led him into the water, her laughter cutting through the night, her skin slick with salt and moonlight. Her lips soft against his.
He should have left. But before he could stop himself, his eyes moved on their own, searching. Unconsciously, inevitably.
He told himself it wasn’t intentional. But his gaze swept over sunbathers and families, past couples sprawled on blankets, until… There she was.
Pansy sat on the sand with a blonde girl, a small picnic spread between them. Wine, fruit, bits of bread and cheese. She was laughing, her head tilted back, long legs stretched out lazily. The sunlight caught in her dark hair, making it glint almost like gold at the edges.
This wasn’t the Pansy Parkinson he knew.
The girl he remembered had always been polished, composed, her edges carefully sharpened to keep people at a distance. But this version of her, barefoot in the sand, carefree in her own body, felt different. It unsettled him.
And yet, Harry couldn’t stop looking. Pansy was at ease in a way he had never been. She looked real. Tangible. Like she belonged here, like she belonged everywhere.
Something twisted in his chest. He should have left. There were enough kilometers of beach for them to exist there without having to see each other, without forcing another interaction, without this.
Then her blonde friend was waving at him. It was casual, friendly, as if nothing was amiss. Pansy turned her head, her expression faltered for a fraction of a second when she saw him, before she hid it with a mask of indifference.
His hands curled into fists and he tore his gaze away, frustrated with himself. He didn’t come here looking for her. He came here because he needed to stop thinking. Jaw tight, he stripped off his shirt, kicked off his shoes, and strode toward the sea.
The cold water was a shock, but he welcomed it. He waded deeper, diving under. The world muffled beneath the surface. The weight of the sea cut through the noise in his head, trying to drown out the restless energy crawling under his skin.
Harry floated, weightless, staring up at the sky, the ache in his body dulled. He should’ve done this sooner.
But before he could let himself enjoy a single second of quiet in his head, she was there again. Not far, moving with lazy strokes, the sunlight catching on the curve of her shoulders.
He should have looked away. Should have turned, swam back to shore, pretending he never saw her.
Instead, his gaze betrayed him and lingered. Again.
She was in a dark green bikini, of course, and it suited her. The cut of it, the way the water beaded against her collarbones, the smooth line of her back as she stretched. He didn’t mean to notice these things, but he did, and he hated himself for it.
What the hell was wrong with him? It was Pansy Parkinson. The girl who sneered at him and his friends for years. Pansy, who has been nothing but a thorn in his side since that bloody kiss, since he saw her in that market. Pansy, who… turned and met his gaze. Again.
Harry shifted, schooling his features into something neutral, but it was too late. He could see it in her expression, the way her eyes sparkled with knowing amusement.
- What?- he snapped, annoyed.
Pansy’s lips twitched up, a slow shrug - Nothing -
It wasn’t nothing. He knew that. She knew that. The silence stretched, until she tilted her head, eyes flicking over him like she was reading something off his skin.
- You’re staring, Potter - she noticed, circling him slowly.
His jaw tightened. His pulse kicked up. He refused to react - So are you -
She hummed, unconcerned, drifting a little closer. The space between them shrank, barely more than an arm’s length now, the water shifting with her movement.
- Maybe - she admitted - but I wasn't the one standing at the shore, all stiff and scowling, before storming into the sea like some tragic novel hero - her smirk deepened - I thought you might actually drown yourself just for the dramatics.
- Didn’t realize you cared- Harry huffed, shoving himself backward through the water, forcing some distance between them.
- I don't - she dragged a hand through the water, sending a small ripple toward him - Do you always have to be so tense? -
Harry wiped a hand down his face, pushing away the water - I'm not tense, just thinking-
- About what? - she turned onto her back, floating with her arms stretched lazily at her sides. Her dark hair resting out in the water, her throat bare to the sun rays as she exhaled.
- How do you do it?- Harry asked before he could stop himself.
Pansy cracked an eye open, the ghost of a smirk playing at her lips - You’ll have to be more specific, Potter. I excel at many things-
He ignored the baiting - Mingle with them. The muggles- He hesitated, watching her closely - You've said you miss doing magic.
Something about her sharpened, not defensive, but focused, like she was looking at him properly for the first time.
- Of course I miss it…- she said eventually, there was no bitterness in it, just something quiet- It’s not the spells or the convenience. It’s the… presence and the essence of it. The way it’s always in the air, how it buzzes beneath everything. It’s different here. Quieter. Sometimes I feel like I’m…- she hesitated, trying to find the right words.
Harry watched her, the way her fingers skimmed idly across the surface of the water.
- Like you’re alone- he finished for her.
For a single, fleeting second, something cracked in her expression. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.
- I’ve been alone my whole life, Potter- she said simply.
The words hit him harder than he expected. He swallowed. Looked away. Because the thing was that he understood her. He knew that feeling, he knew it too well.
There was something strange, something heavy hanging in the space where words usually filled the silence. It didn’t feel like the usual game anymore, full of sharp edges and pointed remarks. It was something deeper. Unspoken.
He met her eyes and somehow, she knew. Because for once, she didn’t smirk. Didn't tease. She just looked at him, and for a moment he thought she might understand him too.
The silence breathed between them, thick as the summer air, heavier than the water around them.
Pansy didn’t move away. Neither did he.
She just watched at him, green against green, dancing with the slow rhythm of the waves as they pulled her a little closer, then pushed her away again. As if the sea itself couldn't decide what to do with them.
Harry felt like he should've looked away, breaking whatever was settling between them before it swallowed him whole.
But he didn’t. He couldn't. Because he was caught, trapped in the way the sunlight reflected on the water, clinging to her skin, the way her lips parted slightly as she breathed, the way her gaze flickered down his face like she was searching for something.
Another pull of the sea, and suddenly she was even closer. Close enough that he could count the droplets on her lashes, the slow rise and fall of her collarbones.
A bigger wave caught them. Not a rough one, not enough to send them under, but enough to push her into him.
His hands moved instinctively to catch her. Fingers pressed into bare skin, her waist, the small of her back. She exhaled sharply against his throat, hands landing against his chest for balance.
It was nothing. Just a second. A brief misstep, a moment of instinct. But it didn’t feel like nothing.
Not with the way her body fit so perfectly against his. Not with the way his heart pounded at the contact, the heat of her brushing into him even through the water.
He stared at her. At her plump lips. His thumb brushed against her skin, slow, unintentional. And she knew, of course she did.
Because her lips twitched, just slightly, amusement flickering in her expression as she tilted her head, deliberately not moving away. Tempting him.
Harry swallowed and let go as if he’d been burned, stepping back just enough to put space between them. Heat creeped up the back of his neck, though he told himself it was just the sun.
And Pansy laughed lightly, tipping her head back just slightly, as if she was delighted by whatever just passed between them. By him.
- Well - she hummed, still far too close - I suppose I should thank you for saving me, Potter.
- You’re impossible.- Retorted Harry, swiping a hand through his wet hair.
- Don't sound so surprised- she said, glancing back towards the shore where her friend was still sitting on the blanket, sipping something from a glass.
- I should get back- Pansy added, but there was something light in her tone, something almost suggestive. She turned, attempted to swim toward the shore. But just before she was out of reach, she glanced over her shoulder. - You know, my friend brought extra wine.-
Harry didn't answer, just exhaled and despite himself he followed her.
The sea breathed in long, steady sighs, kissing the shore where the half erased Pansy's footprints left a path. Harry’s skin was still drenched, his pulse still hadn't settled, still half in the moment they just left behind.
He settled on the sand, feeling its residual warmth pressed against his palms, as he watched Pansy shake out her damp hair, the last drops of seawater scattering like liquid stars around her. She reached for a peach, rolling it between her fingers before biting in, the juice bloomed against her lips, completely unbothered by it, by the way her skin was still soaked, by the way her bikini clung to her. She leaned back on one hand, tilting her head toward him.
Harry looked away, but the image lingered in his mind.
The blonde girl that Pansy had introduced to him as Juliette, flickered her eyes between them with curiosity, and then she grinned. Knowing.
- So, Pansy here said you two know each other from school…- she said, brushing her loose braid over one shoulder.
Harry hesitated, then accepted the glass the girl was offering. - Something like that -
- Something like that - Juliette echoed, a teasing lilt in her voice. She turned to Pansy, nudging her foot. - You never mentioned you had an old school friend in town.-
Pansy smiled shaking her head - I wouldn’t call us friends.-
- Oh? - Juliette raised an eyebrow. - What would you call it, then?-
Pansy hummed thoughtfully, but before she could answer, Juliette’s expression turned sly. - Wait…- she said, leaning forward - Something happened between you two back then?-
Harry scoffed immediately - No -
But Pansy hesitated. Just for a second. Something flashed through her eyes and Harry knew exactly what she was thinking about. The Great Hall. The war still raging around them. Her voice, desperate, breaking. All the wands pointed at her.
Juliette noticed the hesitation too. Her gaze filled with interest, sensing something unspoken.
- Interesting- she murmured.
- Not really- Pansy recovered smoothly, taking a bite of the peach to buy time.- …He just happened to be there at a particularly traumatic moment in my life.-
Harry glanced at her then, the words settling into something heavy inside him. What story has she told Juliette? What excuse has she given for why she, a teenager, was living alone in France, far from the life she once had?
He didn’t ask. But the question remained, now tangled in the complicated web that were his thoughts.
The conversation danced around him, in and out of a French he couldn't comprehend. He listened instead to the rhythm of Pansy’s voice, lower than Juliette’s, edged with something smooth, almost lazy. She didn’t sound the way she did in the water, when her words had carried a weight neither of them knew what to do with. Now, her tone was lighter, slipping into something playful, something that fitted her as easily as the silk of her dress against sun kissed skin.
They talked about things that didn’t matter, lighthearted and inconsequential. And yet, somehow, he didn’t feel out of place. There was no pressure, no expectation that he should be anything other than what he was right now. Juliette didn’t look at him like he was fragile, like she was worried he might break apart at any moment. Pansy didn't treat him like some wounded war hero in need of handling.
It was almost nice.
He lifted his glass to his lips, the wine cool and sharp on his tongue, and realized that he was staring when Pansy met his gaze over the rim of her own glass. For a moment, she didn’t move, didn't speak, just looked at him like she was reading his mind.
And then she smirked, her voice slipping back into English as she murmured - Enjoying yourself, Potter?-
He exhaled, shaking his head as he glanced away, but there was something traitorous in the way his mouth curved up. The ghost of a smile, small but real. Because the truth was that he was.
Shadows stretched over the shoreline, as the sun sank lower, the sky softened into watercolor hues, blush of pink, lilac, a touch of gold here and there. Juliette had walked away a while ago, after she sighed dramatically, claiming that her brother had requested her help at the bar. It sounded more like a lie than the truth, but she had left them alone by the water.
Somewhere nearby, played the distant melody of an old song, mingling with the laughter of lovers and the low, murmured secrets of those who had succumbed to the temptation to linger just a little longer.
It was a place that belonged to no one and yet welcomed everyone, where even his ghosts seemed to dissolve in the salt-kissed breeze, and where, just for a moment, even the heaviest hearts could believe in the lightness of simply being.
Pansy gathered her things and noticed the way he stood there, for a moment, just... thinking. That moment stretched a little too long, and for the first time, she realized Harry wasn’t in a hurry to disappear into the shadows. He wasn’t pushing her away, wasn’t pretending to not notice the way they had started to settle into something that resembled a silent understanding, even if just barely.
There was a gentle warmth in the air, almost like the day wasn’t quite ready to let go of them yet. She let out a long breath, feeling the quiet pressure of his presence beside her as they started walking back through the cobbled streets.
She caught herself looking at him sideways. Harry Potter, in muggle clothes, no uniform, no wand in his hand, no title weighing him down. He didn’t look much like the boy she remembered. He looked... different. Tired. Lost. It was strange, seeing him outside the war, outside Hogwarts, without that relentless determination burning through his veins. And yet, he still carried himself like he was waiting for something to explode around him.
Her gaze lingered. Navy blue shorts, a plain white shirt, nothing remarkable, nothing showy. And yet, something about the way he wore them drew her attention. The set of his jaw, the way his forearms tensed when he moved, the way his posture was more loose but not quite relaxed, the ever alert eyes. But tonight, there was something else in them. Not the usual sharpness, not the distant look she had grown used to. No, tonight, they were almost... softer.
Pansy glanced down at herself. Her silk dress was simple, soft and short, brushing against her legs as they walked. She suddenly felt too aware of how different they both looked, how far away they were from the people they had been at school.
- You know… - she finally broke the silence, her voice not quite as casual as she meant it to be - I used to think Muggles were... well, stupid.
She didn’t look at him, but she could feel him turn toward her, the weight of his attention settling over her.
- I mean…- She exhaled sharply, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. - I never bothered to actually learn anything about them. Just assumed we were superior. Smarter. All that.-
Harry didn’t say anything, but she could feel his gaze burning her. There was something there, something unspoken that she wasn’t sure she wanted to see.
She continued anyway, pressing her lips together as she spoke - I judged them. All of them. Not even really knowing what it was like. But now... I guess I see how ignorant I was. And now that I'm here, well… - she made a pause in her confession, looking down - …All of it feels different now.-
- Does it?- Harry’s voice was quiet, not judging but she heard the underlying curiosity in his words.
- Yeah, it does- She almost didn’t believe it herself, but it was true. This world, the one she never wanted to understand before, was starting to feel real. And for the first time in a long while, Pansy couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was something in it for her. Something more than just escaping her past.
When they reached a street corner, she stopped and turned to face him. It was time to say goodbye, but something in the air between them held her there a moment longer. She didn’t know why, but part of her wanted Harry to say something, to do something. To make this moment linger longer than it should. But he didn't.
Instead, he just nodded, and gave her the barest flicker of a smile, a simple gesture. But she could have sworn she saw something blink in his eyes, almost like a shadow of disappointment. Something that made her question whether this was another moment of fleeting connection, one where unspoken words hovered like fireflies in the air.
- See you around, Potter- she said, voice quieter than she expected.
Harry looked at her, his mouth parted, then closed again, like a thought slipping through his fingers before he could catch it. He just turned, and she let him go. But even as she walked away, her mind wandered back to him. Back to the way he had stood, like he didn’t quite know how to leave. Like he wanted to stay, but couldn’t figure out why. And she caught herself glancing back. Just once. Just to see if he did too.