Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Author's Note: I'm so sorry for how long it's taken to write this!!! I know it's been forever since I last updated. I hope this longer-than-usual chapter halfway makes up for it and will try to have the next chapter out soon. (At any rate, I'm determined to have this fic finished before HBP comes out.)
Enjoy and thank you for your patience!
~Complicated~
Chapter 6: Searching for Normality
Hermione handed Ron a bottle of butterbeer and sat down herself with her cup of tea.
They were both silent for a moment, thinking, before Hermione finally spoke, quietly. "All the while Harry was gone, I kept on thinking that if he would just come back, everything would be fine. Everything would go back to normal…"
She sighed and Ron finished the thought for her. "But it's not."
She didn't need to ask how Ron knew what she'd been about to say, even if he had never been the one to be able to understand her thoughts without her having to say a word. That had always been Harry, Harry with whom she could communicate without words, not Ron. But this time, she knew Ron had been thinking much the same thing and that was actually why she'd floo-called Ron today and asked him to come over anyway. Harry was having dinner with Remus so she knew he wouldn't be back for a while yet.
Once again, the team to Save Harry Potter From Himself, had to meet to discuss Harry.
Harry had been back for nearly two weeks now, although so far only she, Ron, the Weasleys and Remus knew that. He'd been adamant about that; he didn't want the wizarding world to know he was back, didn't want the publicity, the intrusive questions he was sure to receive about his long absence and, worse, how exactly he'd defeated Voldemort. So it was only them, those few people closest to Harry and who cared most about him, who knew and he'd sworn them all to secrecy.
Harry was back, in body, yes, but there was a barrier which she felt and somehow hadn't managed to get past. Not since the first night after the nightmare he'd had, had he allowed her that close to him. And even that night, he hadn't confided in her or told her anything; there had just been the unspoken understanding of his trust that had comforted her. But since that night, he'd been different. She couldn't even quite describe it other than that. Except that she knew that something was bothering him, something he didn't feel he could tell her about. His lack of confidence in her hurt with an almost physical pain; to think that after all these years and all they'd been through together, that somehow Harry still felt he needed to deal with his problems alone, hurt her.
"Has he mentioned anything to you?" she asked quietly.
"No. He's been really careful to keep any conversation from going near questions on why he left or that last battle with V-voldemort." Ron's tone was serious, despite his discomfort with saying Voldemort's name (which had improved greatly in the past few years but still didn't sound natural by any standards).
She sighed. "He hasn't said anything to me either."
"And whatever it is, if it's bad enough that he's not talking about it at all, we know how bad a sign that is," Ron added with an attempt at lightness that fell flat.
"I know. That's what's worrying me so much."
"I've been racking my brains but I haven't come up with any ideas as to how we can break down the brick wall that is everyone's favorite Boy Who Lived. Have you?"
She half-smiled at Ron's phrasing to describe Harry and his stubbornness but shook her head. "I think our only option right now is to wait and see. Something might happen to make him change his mind and tell us."
Ron nodded and then added with his usual grin, "And in a few weeks if nothing's happened, I'll ask Fred and George for some special products that should be able to force it out of him."
She laughed as she knew he wanted her to and for the moment, allowed herself to relax a little. After all, Harry was back, which meant something. She would find out what was troubling him later and she would help him. Just as she'd promised herself to help him face Voldemort in their 6th year. Harry wasn't alone, whether he knew it or not; she wouldn't let him be alone…
~*~*~
Remus sat back in his chair and looked thoughtfully across the table at Harry, seeing as he always did, the echo of James in Harry's face. And not just his face either; Harry had some of James's mannerisms too, the same way of shifting in his seat and rubbing the back of his neck with one hand when uncomfortable. And his eyes were as expressive as Lily's had been. Remus hadn't known Lily as well as he'd known James but he had become her friend since they had been Prefects together and once she started dating James and gotten to know her well enough that he could usually make an educated guess at Harry's emotions and thoughts. And this, combined with the wisdom of experience plus his own knowledge of Harry, told him Harry was still restless, still looking for something and not finding it, still hiding things.
"You've changed, Harry," he finally began, meeting the gaze of the young man whom he loved as his own son in many ways.
Harry frowned slightly. "I suppose I have. Being away from everything and everyone you know for so long tends to do that to you." And for just a moment, a shadow of something that Remus could have sworn was bitterness, crossed Harry's expression.
Remus paused and then decided to be blunt. Indirection was going to get him nowhere. "Harry, what's wrong? And don't tell me it's nothing."
Harry visibly stiffened, opened his mouth to say something, seemed to consider and then closed it again.
Remus waited with the patience born of years. Waited and wondered if Harry would finally break down and say something of what was bothering him, why he'd left England and stayed away for so long…
Harry got up, moving to pace the length of Remus' sitting room restlessly. He was amazed that he was even tempted to tell Remus at least something of what had driven him away, what was still tormenting him. He thought he'd decided years ago not to tell anyone-how could he? He was Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, Hero of the Wizarding World, etc. How could he tell anyone what he really was?
Maybe it was just being back, here in England, the emotional upheaval of being with these people he cared about so much that tempted him to tell…
He looked at Remus again, seeing the gray in his former professor's hair, the lines around his eyes, the affection in his eyes.
"I-" he began, hesitated and then finally just blurted out, "I never told you what happened at the final battle. I never told anyone about it," he amended his words, speaking to the wall rather than to Remus.
Remus stiffened but otherwise didn't react. He'd known it must have something to do with the last battle; Harry's silence on the subject and avoidance about talking about it had been telling enough- to him and to everyone who knew Harry well enough.
Harry looked as if he were again regretting whatever impulse had led him to even say as much as he had, but slowly, reluctantly, he turned to face Remus. "Watch."
He lifted one hand, his gaze focused on one of the framed pictures on the mantelpiece. The picture moved, rising, and then flew straight into Harry's hand. His hand closed around it for a moment before he sent it back to the mantelpiece.
Remus had sucked in his breath sharply, staring at Harry, his eyes wide. "Harry- you-when did that happen?" he asked, his voice sounding rather strangled.
Harry dropped his hand to his side, lines of strain framing his mouth. "Since I defeated Voldemort," he answered flatly.
Remus was silent, his mind racing. Wandless magic. It was a rare, very rare, ability. In fact the only two wizards in the last two centuries at least who were known to have the power to do wandless magic had been Dumbledore and Voldemort. Wizards and witches, even the most powerful, required their wands to be able to do magic except the sort of uncontrolled, unfocused magic wizarding children performed in moments of extreme stress and emotion. To be able to simply call forth magic, without the use of a wand and with only a thought, was so rare as to be nearly unheard of. Dumbledore, he knew, had been able to do wandless magic, a power he rarely used and almost never mentioned, but one which was generally known nevertheless. Voldemort had learned it after years of studying the darkest arts until his powers had grown beyond what he already had and there was nothing left of Tom Riddle and there only remained Lord Voldemort. Tom Riddle had, to use a clichéd phrase, sold his soul for the ability to do wandless magic in his quest to become the Dark Lord.
And now Harry had it, could control his wandless magic.
He stared at his former student as if seeing him for the first time. Harry's back was to Remus but he could still see the tension in Harry's body; tension was positively coming off Harry in waves.
Wandless magic-what other powers did Harry have? And what did it mean that Harry was so powerful?
Another clichéd phrase suddenly crossed his mind. Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Power corrupts…
Surely Harry couldn't- he wouldn't- be corrupted… Would he?
And for the first time, Remus felt a flicker of-something very like fear as he considered Harry. Because now he knew just what it was about Harry that had struck him as being different, the subtlest of changes and usually unnoticeable- but now he recognized it. It was power. The suggestion of power, restrained and usually carefully hidden, but there nevertheless. Power-and Harry had it in immense amounts.
Remus shuddered slightly. Dear God- what had happened at the final battle that Harry would come out of it with this much power and Voldemort would be gone?
"Harry, I think it's time you tell someone what actually happened at the last battle," Remus spoke quietly, finally breaking the silence. "You don't have to tell me; just tell someone. Someone needs to know, if only because it's too much for one person to carry alone."
Harry laughed shortly, not out of amusement but out of a bitter incredulity at Remus' suggestion. "What's there to tell? I defeated him and in doing so, I took his powers into myself. That's all."
"It isn't all," Remus contradicted, his voice still quiet but now with a hint of steel in his tone. "And you know it. Magical ability doesn't transfer from one wizard to another without some extraordinary circumstances."
Harry shrugged, his voice cool, dismissive, distant. "Nothing about my life has ever been ordinary so this shouldn't be that much of a surprise. As for the knowledge of what actually happened being too much of a burden for one person, that's nothing new either. The story of my life so far has been of knowledge I didn't want, things I didn't want happening that did happen, fame and power I didn't want. I can't be normal." He let out another cynical laugh. "Harry Potter. Resident freak, that's me."
"Harry, don't talk like that!" Remus said sharply. "It's not like you; you know it isn't. It's fine if you don't trust me enough to tell me- but don't just dismiss it like that! It isn't nothing and I know you don't think it is; you wouldn't have left England and stayed away for so long if it meant so little to you," he finished shrewdly.
Harry's shoulders suddenly slumped, his irritation and his sudden anger disappearing as quickly as they had flared up at Remus' words.
"It does matter," he finally said, his voice so soft Remus could barely hear it, more to himself than to Remus. "But how can I burden her with this? After everything I've already put her through, how can I add yet another burden to that? Make her part of my darkness? I can't do it."
At any other time, Remus might have smiled at this confirmation of Harry's feelings for Hermione which he'd long suspected and, yes, even hoped for. But not now.
He sighed instead. "I think, Harry," he began slowly, quietly, "you should leave that decision up to Hermione. She's strong and more importantly, you know how much she cares for you. I suspect she would tell you she'd rather be burdened with the knowledge than know you were carrying it alone. She would want to help you."
"I- I can't," Harry said again in a choked whisper, finally looking at Remus. "I can't tell her what I did, what I am…" He didn't think he could ever tell anyone… Not Hermione, the person he trusted more than anyone else in his life; not Ron, not Remus. He couldn't bear to think of how these people whom he cared about, who cared about him, would react to knowing just what he was, what he'd done, the blackness of his soul…
Remus felt a sudden chill of apprehension reach inside and grasp his heart. "What you did?" he asked cautiously.
Harry looked at Remus again and he gasped at the look in Harry's eyes, the bleakness, the darkness in it and knew he was seeing a tortured soul. Whatever Harry had done, it was terrible, had done something to him, changed him. And he suddenly wondered if he even wanted to know.
Harry was pale, his green eyes standing out starkly against his chalk-white face, as he stared at Remus and finally said hoarsely, as if the words were forced out of him by some impulse he couldn't control, "I- I'm a murderer."
Remus sucked in his breath sharply at the harsh, flat statement but before he could speak, Harry had run out of the flat as if he couldn't stand to be in the same room as his former teacher anymore now that he'd told Remus what he was.
Remus leaped up and ran after Harry but he knew, even before he stepped outside that he'd be too late. Harry could Apparate and he had.
Leaving Remus alone.
"Hermione."
Hermione started at the sound of Remus' voice, turning sharply to face the one fireplace in her flat which was connected to the Floo Network and Remus' head which was floating in the flames. "Remus, what is it? Where's Harry?" she asked, her voice rising slightly in instinctive, automatic concern.
"I don't know," Remus admitted, sighing and running a hand through his graying hair. "He just Apparated away." He paused, seeming to consider his words before he said, "I- I finally asked him what was wrong and he- well, he told me some of it."
She caught her breath, stifling the unbidden pang of hurt that Harry had told Remus more than he'd told her, that he trusted Remus more than he trusted her. "I see."
She didn't bother to ask just what Harry had said; she knew Remus wouldn't tell her, not when he knew very well that Harry didn't want to tell her himself. He wouldn't betray Harry's confidence.
"I'm worried about him," Remus said, breaking the silence that had fallen as she wondered frantically where Harry was, what he was thinking, feeling right now. "He's changed and he seems determined to stay alone. But he needs you, you know that, don't you? You have to find a way to break through the barriers he's put up; if you can't, no one can."
She meet Remus' concerned gaze directly. "I know," she said simply. "And I won't leave him; I'll help him."
Remus finally allowed himself a tired little smile. "Then I know he'll be alright, eventually."
It was her turn to sigh now even as she straightened her spine and lifted her chin. Yes, she would help him; she would save him from himself. It was what she did. "I'll do whatever I have to do, to help him," she said aloud, addressing Remus but also renewing the promise she'd made to herself years ago, to help Harry.
"I know you will," Remus said, smiling again, though his eyes remained serious. "I'll leave him to you, then."
"Yes. Goodnight, Remus," she said a little absently as her thoughts turned to worry over where Harry was right now, when (and if) he would come back.
"Goodnight." And then Remus was gone from the fireplace.
She paced back and forth in her flat, wondering if Harry would even come back at all. Maybe he would simply leave again…
No, he couldn't! He wouldn't!
But even as her heart protested in instinctive denial, she knew he could and he would, if he wanted to.
He could just leave England again… and who knew when he would return if he did…
She wrapped her arms around herself as she tried to calm her sudden fear that Harry would leave again. She'd endured his absence once; she didn't think she could endure it again, not now, not so soon after he'd returned to her finally…
And no matter how he'd changed (and he had), no matter the walls he kept between them, the secrets he kept, she didn't want him to leave. He was still Harry, her Harry, the same Harry she knew so well and loved so much… Still Harry who could make her laugh and whose smile could warm her heart and make her knees feel weak…
A slight noise in the direction of the spare bedroom, the bedroom where she'd insisted Harry stay instead of returning to the motel room he'd got or in Grimmauld Place, which he did technically own, made her heart leap up into her throat as her feet rushed her to the room.
Harry was there, holding his cloak in one hand.
He looked pale and exhausted and there were shadows lingering in his eyes, lines of strain around his mouth, she noted in some part of her mind, but he was there. He hadn't decided to leave again.
She crossed the distance between them in three large steps and then she was hugging him, her arms going around him to hold him tightly. "Harry, you're back! Thank God you came back!"
He stiffened slightly in shock, his arms automatically going around her. "Of course I'm back. I came back last week, remember?"
She stepped back, recovering her composure and suddenly embarrassed at having lost it so completely at the sight of him. "I wasn't sure you'd come back here again tonight after the way you left Remus."
A slight flicker of some expression she couldn't quite read crossed his face at the mention of Remus but he said nothing.
"He floo-called me to say that you'd Apparated away without a word and I- I was afraid you might have decided to leave again without telling us," she continued.
He sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. "I thought about it," he admitted quietly, "but I couldn't."
She managed a smile. "Good, I'm glad. I don't want you to leave again like that, Harry. Promise me you won't leave without telling me- in person," she added, her eyes searching his.
He hesitated for a moment and then he gave in. "I promise."
It was her turn to hesitate now before she finally gathered up her nerve and asked, tentatively, "Do you want to talk about why you left Remus' flat so abruptly? What happened, what did you say?"
He glanced sharply at her. "Remus didn't tell you?"
"You know he wouldn't, Harry," she chided gently.
His expression eased almost imperceptibly. "I- I can't tell you," he said, reluctantly but firmly for all that.
"Why can't you, Harry? You know you can trust me; I'm your best friend-aren't I?" she asked, suddenly unsure of herself.
He sighed. "Yes, you are my best friend. But I still can't tell you; I can't!"
There was a tinge of desperation in his voice on those last two words and she gave in, not able to resist the pleading in his tone. "Okay," she said on a silent sigh. "But Harry, you know that I'll always be your friend, right? Nothing you say or do could ever change that." Her voice was quiet but intense, sincere.
"I know," he responded, equally quietly, and then kissed her cheek quickly. "I'll tell you-someday," he said softly.
And she knew that he meant it; there was a promise in his gaze, hesitant as it might be, but a promise nonetheless. He wouldn't give in tonight but he would tell her-someday.
And that was something. Someday…
She could wait a little longer to find out his secret burden. And she would, she thought quietly, as she left the room, closing it gently behind her.
She would wait a little longer… And trust that Harry would confess-someday…