Chapter Text
Harry had begun seeing the strange dreams again.
This time they were clearer than before. He saw a place that felt old and magical, ruled by four children alongside talking animals and centaurs. He assumed the children were siblings.
Harry didn't know why those dreams keep returning again and again. He couldn’t remember where the place was, or if it even existed in any geography he understood. The dreams felt less like imagination and more like recollection, as if he was borrowing someone else’s past.
He thought there must be different world other than Hogwarts, likewise, in this universe that needed his help. And, it was pulling him through his dreams. Harry couldn't bear the idea of living again in another world, he was barely surviving in one.
Sometimes, his thoughts drifted to Hermione. He wondered how she was living now. Whether she was somewhere near him in London, or if she had never left Hogwarts at all. He hated the uncertainty. He hated not knowing what had become of his friends, of the place he had once called home, of the meaning behind the dreams that kept finding him. Universe must give him some answers.
The repeated sound from the television stopped him from the further despair he was bringing to himself. The volume was low though he caught a few words when the presenter repeated them. Weather warning. The weatherman warned the civilian that the strong wind was expected later today.
He didn’t think much of it.
London always had warnings.
By the time he stepped outside, the rain had already started. Ha and the wind too was sharp enough to sting his face. He stopped under the small roof outside his building when it picked up suddenly, harder than he expected.
Someone was already standing there.
It took him a second to place her. The girl from the library.
She stood near the edge of the shelter, not close enough to be awkward, not far enough to pretend she wasn’t sharing the space. Her coat was buttoned all the way up. She was watching the rain with visible irritation as if it had personally offended her.
The rain came down harder within minutes. People rushed past them, some laughing, some swearing. A man nearly slipped on the pavement. The wind pushed water beneath the roof, soaking the ground in front of them.
The girl shifted her feet slightly so the water wouldn’t reach her shoes. Harry was debating whether to call her inside his apartment or not. He did feel bad for her. It was clearly seen, the poor girl was shivering from the cold. He couldn't turn blind eye on that.
Harry noticed she hadn’t reacted when the rain started. He wondered if she lived nearby and why she hadn't checked the the weather. He saw she was watching the street now, patiently without a bore in her face, just watching.
Also, He didn’t feel like starting a conversation. After the library, he doubted she did either.
But he couldn't look away. Harry and his perfect saviour complex. He wondered if he would regret this later. Right now, she needed shelter. At the very least, he could ask.
Since when Harry was afraid to start a conversation?
The storm grew louder and louder as the rain hit the metal awning above them, steady and hard.
Harry jerked the door abruptly, almost too loudly, as if unsure how else to get her attention. She turned toward the sound.
''Would you like to come inside? I don’t mean to be strange. You’ve been standing here for a while. '' Harry finally did what any man in his position would do. He was proud of himself.
'' No, thank you! '' Harry noticed she had some kind of weird reflex to reject offer by being straight up rude.
Harry nodded once, as if that settled it. He let the door fall shut behind him, though he didn’t lock it. The rain hit harder then, like it had been waiting. Wind shoved water sideways, splashing against the wall and the narrow strip of shelter.
A loud crack of thunder split the air. Closer than before. The lights along the street flickered. Someone down the road shouted when the rain surged again, heavier, colder.
Harry glanced at her without meaning to.
Her shoulders had stiffened. She hadn’t stepped back, but she’d stopped pretending the weather didn’t exist. Her hands were clenched inside her coat sleeves now. The rain had crept closer to her shoes despite the roof.
Another burst of wind pushed the rain straight at them.
She flinched. Just slightly.
Harry exhaled through his nose. He opened the door again.
''The offer now stands for the final time.'' He said, not looking at her.
He stepped inside this time, leaving the door open behind him. He didn’t beckon her to come inside.
He assumed she wouldn’t follow.
The rain answered for him. A sudden downpour slammed into the pavement, loud enough to drown the city. The shelter failed instantly for her. Water pooled around her feet almost immediately.
Harry heard it before he saw it. The sound of shoes crossing the threshold.
He turned.
She stood just inside the doorway, stiff, like she planned to leave the second the rain slowed. She kept her coat on. She didn’t look around. Her hands were still tucked into her sleeves.
“I’ll leave when it stops,” she said.
“That’s fine.”
He closed the door, slower this time. The storm roared on the other side, trapped there now. The apartment felt quieter by comparison. Too quiet.
Harry stepped back, giving her space.
“You can stand there,” he added, pointing vaguely toward the wall near the door. “Or sit. Doesn’t matter.”
She nodded, once.
She stayed standing.
Harry didn’t ask her name. He didn’t offer tea or say anything. He leaned against the counter and waited for the rain to pass.
From the corner of his eye, he saw her relax by a fraction. Just enough to unclench her shoulders.
The storm continued.
Harry hadn’t bothered to turn the lights fully on. The lamp near the desk was enough.
She stood where he’d left her, just inside the door, coat still on, damp at the hem. Water had darkened the ends of her shoes. She didn’t ask where to put anything because she hadn’t brought anything in with her.
Harry felt like reading something, newspaper, yess. The good mood left him quickly as there was nothing interesting to read. He was trying to grasp the meaning but the words escaped faster in his mind than he intended to do so.
When he turned back, she had shifted slightly, closer to the wall, as if making herself smaller. The hood of her coat had fallen back.
That was when he noticed her.
Not all at once. Just a detail slipping into focus.
She was of average height. Her build was slim, neither fragile nor strong in any visible way. Her face was calm, unreadable. There was no sign of embarrassment at being in a stranger’s apartment and no attempt to appear comfortable either. She did not smile. She did not look around excessively.
Her posture was straight. Not rigid. Controlled.
He noticed the way she stood, weight balanced evenly, as if she was used to remaining still for long periods of time. He saw she did not lean against anything and how she kept a measurable distance between herself and the furniture.
Her eyes swept past through him. He looked away immediately.
Still, the feeling stayed with him.
He’d seen similar to the kind of her, in his dreams, the childrens. Especially, the eldest one, the girl, she looked similar to her. He couldn't help but compare one to another.
Harry tightened his grip on the kettle handle.
This probably meant nothing. He should stop reading into things too much.
He poured the water into a mug and offered her. He was glad she took that instead of shuting him down.
She glanced around then, briefly curiously, registering exits, corners, the space between furniture. Her eyes lingered on the window, where rain streaked the glass in uneven lines.
She looked out of place in the apartment. Not because she didn’t belong there, but because she looked like she belonged somewhere else entirely. Somewhere the walls weren’t so close.
He watched her hands.
They were steady. Too steady for someone cold and cornered by weather. It reminded him of people who had learned, early on, how to stand through things without reacting.
“You can sit,” he said, finally. Neutral.
She hesitated, then nodded once and sat on the edge of the chair nearest the door.
Harry returned to his desk.
He told himself not to think about those dreams.
He failed.
After a while, the rain slowed down. People were now seen roaming around the streets.
She spoke cautiously, '' I should go home now, the rain has eased enough. Thank you for umm.. help. ''
He felt that her gratitude came very reluctantly as if he was the one who had made her trapped.
Harry t nodded once and she went to her way. His room again spiraled into the original state though something in the air has changed. He couldn't settle the feeling that she was related to his dream in some kind of way.
When the rain finally lightened enough for him to step out, he did so.
Harry thought that it was a one time thing. Nothing more.
Susan had ignored the weather warning. She usually did that. Today her mind was occupied by other things. She was used to her strange dreams. But it was getting more and more excruciating.
London had been like this since forever. Storms were always coming, trains were always delayed, something was always about to collapse. She had stepped out anyway, thinking she would be home before anything serious began.
She was wrong.
The rain had unexpectedly come fast, sharp, and loud, like it had been waiting to cruely laugh at her face. By the time she reached the building, the wind had picked up enough to sting. Hail followed then. She moved under the narrow roof without thinking much about it.
She saw someone at the door. Oh, the guy from the bar. The one who scoffed at her. The guy from the libraby. And here she thought the day couldn't get any worse. She was wrong twice today.
She kept her eyes on the street, pretending she wasn't struggling in any way, pretending he wasn’t sharing the space. She didn’t like being noticed. She liked even less being recognized. The rain worsened quickly, soaking the pavement, pushing people into doorways and corners. The water was now starting to reach her foot. She adjusted herself for several times and it was reaching quickly and quickly.
She felt cold but she didn’t move.
She had endured worse than weather.
When the door opened behind her, she turned instinctively, already preparing to refuse whatever was coming.
He offered shelter.
She declined immediately.
The refusal came out sharper than she intended but she didn't worry about it. Accepting help from strangers was never a habit she’d learned to keep. Especially not from someone who had spoken to her the way he had in the library.
She expected the moment to end there.
It didn’t.
The storm was growing violently shoving rain sideways, loud and relentless. The sound of the thunder was loud enough to burst her ear. The shelter was of no help now. Water pooled around her feet before she could step back.
When he opened the door again, she didn’t look at him.
His voice was flat. No insistence. No politeness layered over it. Just a statement.
She hesitated too long.
She was really desperate for a shelther. She really didn't want to go there but her system was opposing her. She knew she will be sick tommorrow if she stayed outside.
She crossed the threshold quickly. Her shoes were wet. The apartment was too quiet and dim to her taste. She expected his room to look more messy but even though everything wasn't proper, it felt even.
“I’ll leave when it stops,” she said, immediately, setting a boundary.
He didn't say anything, just nodded at her once. She prefer it that way.
She stayed near the door with her coat on and hands into the sleeves of her coat. She didn’t look around much. It felt invading someone's personal. And she didn't want it to be something personal for her.
The storm was still roaring heavy outside and inside, the silence was much heavier.
He didn’t ask her name nor did he offer any conversations. He moved to the other room, she believed that was his kitchen. That, she noted.
He came back with a mug in his hand and handed her. She took it anyway.
The heat seeped into her palms. She didn’t thank him immediately. She wasn’t sure why that felt important.
She sensed his attention on her once or twice, brief and withdrawn, like he was correcting himself for looking. She did the same.
Eventually, the rain softened. Now was the right time for her to go home.
She spoke first.
“I can go now.”
Her voice sounded cautious to her own ears.
He nodded and opened the door.
That made it easier to leave.
She stepped back into the street when the rain allowed it, the cold returning almost immediately. She didn’t look back at the building. She didn’t check to see if he was watching.
By the time she reached the end of the block, the apartment already felt distant.
Still, as she walked, she was aware of something she hadn’t expected.
Some things were better left unexamined.
''Susan, are you really going to leave me?''
''You know the answer. I have to, Caspian. There's no any other way for me.''
''What about us then? What about the dreams we shared once? What about the promises you made? Don't break them. Don't leave me, Susan. If you do so, I'll never forgive you for this.''
''This is ought to be hard, Caspian. We were just foolish to try. All of it, was meant to go in vain. I have deeply hurt you and I doesn't have any intention to ask for your forgiveness.''
''Did you ever love me, Susan? You have left me where I'm questioning the love between us. The love once I thought was stronger than any Narnian magic.''
''I love you, Caspian. Always. Don't make this harder than it is already, please.''
''Now I know why peter is always annoyed with you, why Edmund doesn't care about you, why Lucy can't bear your sight. You were always like this. I was just naive to not to see things.''
''Don't forget you were the one who started things between us, Caspian.''
Hurt flashed through the eyes of Caspian. He couldn't believe what she was saying.
''Susan, you always run from the things you care about. Do you not feel loved? You are a coward, nothing more and nothing less. Run, Susan, run. You will be always running the race with no finish lines. You will die running.''
''You have said enough, Caspain. It's the end for us.''
Susan woke with a start of the echoes of Caspian’s words still clinging to her chest. The morning light was pale and weak through the curtains but it did nothing to soften the weight in her chest. Her heart still thumped with the urgency of the dream.
For a long moment, she lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to disentangle her feelings. There was the familiar ache of guilt, the sting of old regrets and beneath it all, a hollow longing she couldn’t name. The dream had stripped away all her defenses and left her confronting herself.
Susan’s hand went to her chest where the tension lingered stubbornly. She was breathing, but it felt shallow, forced. The words Caspian had spoken, the accusations and the truths, replayed in her mind. She hadn’t wanted to feel that.
Her chest tightened, and before she could stop it, the tears came. One after another, hot and relentless, streaking down her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands, letting the sobs shake her body.
She cried for Caspian, for the words that had cut too close to her heart. She cried for herself, for the part of her that had always run, always held back, always refused to face the truth. Each tear carried a fragment of the weight she’d been carrying, each gasp of breath a surrender to the pain she couldn’t escape.
Time lost meaning. Minutes passed or maybe hours while she let herself fall apart. The dream had opened a door she hadn’t wanted to open, and now she was forced to confront it. The sadness was raw, unfiltered, a flood she had no power to stop.
Slowly, her sobs began to subside. Her body trembled with exhaustion. She wiped her cheeks, tried to steady her breathing, and for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to remain as it is.
Susan swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet touched the cold floor, grounding her, reminding her that this was real, that she was here, in London, and not in a castle by the sea with talking animals and endless forests. But even in reality, the dream clung to her like a shadow, whispering that some part of her was still that girl in Narnia, still facing choices she couldn’t run from.