Chapter nine - Extra rations

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"Are you al-alright, Harry?" I ask, cursing the small stammer that passes my lips, quickly lifting a trembling hand to my face and wiping away the pointless tears. Harry gazes up at me, cheeks stains with tears, eyes full of sympathy as well as salty tears welling up, giving a shine to them. He doesn't answer, maybe I wasn't clear enough. What surprises me though, is the fact that his bony arms wrap themselves firmly around my waist. My heart stutters as he pulls me into a hug, resting his head against my chest, I can't help the hitch of my breath as the heat of his body melts against mine. I don't take a second thought as I embrace him back, bringing his tiny body closer to my own. He doesn't flinch, or struggle from the cuddle. The height difference allows me to rest my chin on top of his mop of fluffy, ebony curls. I stifle back a sob and Harry holds me tighter, as if trying to protect me from my own insecure and self-loathing thoughts, but it seems to work. The smell of raspberries drifts up to my nose from his hair and I find myself burying my nose in his curls.

We stay in the same position for what feels like less than a minute, when in reality ten minutes have passed. Neither of us move, we stay huddled together. My breathing is now at some sort of a regular rate without the need of my inhaler. I can feel the light expanding and contracting of Harry's chest as he breathes against me. It's quiet, no one is in this hallway apart from the two of us, I don't mind one bit I just try to savour the moment. Savour the feeling of Harry's body against mine, his warmth, his comfort.

It's strange, we have hugged a few times before but not like this. The previous embraces were because he needed them, he needed comforting, he needed to be calmed. This particular hug, though, is for me. For my need, for my comfort, for my need to be calmed. Maybe that's why Harry thought it may help. Seemingly, every time he pulled me into a hug was because it soothed him, made him feel safe somehow, he sensed my feelings and reacted. This is what it feels like to be cared for, it's not just a hug it's so much more than that; it's empathy, reassurance, compassion, kindness... some may even say love. All of these feelings in one small bundle, from one person.

I've never had real comfort before. My Dad is a man that shows no kind of compassion, even when I was a child he refused to hug me in public.. If at all. He said that they were for women and very small children. In his mind, a man embracing another is completely against what he thinks is normal. Tough love he would call it, a pat on the back was all I got from him when I was younger, I don't even get that anymore. My Mum, well she left when I was six, wanted to get away from my Dad... left me behind, though I don't blame her, she was young had better things to do with her life. I still get a birthday card from her, and if I'm lucky I'll get a Happy Birthday phone call... Two weeks after. My Gran was the only real person that cared for me, but since she died I've felt alone.

I feel Harry shift awkwardly and his arms slowly unclasp themselves from my waist. I lift my head and do the same, seeing his eyes scanning my face. I suddenly feel the heat rise in my cheeks; we had been in that position for longer than we needed to be. I shift my weight, and rub the back of my neck.

"I... um, thank you." I say and Harry offers a tiny, unsure smile with a blush sneaking upon his cheeks. He looks away, embarrassed. We are still close to each other, barely inches apart and I awkwardly run a hand through my damp, unevenly cut hair. I take a quick glance at my watch; 12:10 pm, I suggest that we head back to the kitchen and get something to eat, to which Harry's stomach agrees by grumbling.

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When we get to the kitchen, Marie is mashing potatoes at one of the benches while peas are boiling in a big pot on top of the cooker. She looks exhausted just by mashing the potatoes and I ask if she needs me to take over, which I do. Harry takes a seat facing me and watches as I cream the spuds together.

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