Boys Don't Cry
Disclaimer: don't own HP or any of the characters besides Matthew and the plot.
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Part Two of Home (continuation of the last chapter).
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Dinner had been quite a surprise, as Harry, Hermione, and Ron had entered the Great Hall. The Hall had erupted with applause and cheers, as Harry looked around at the students, standing up and chanting his name. Their faces were bright, a wide smile spread across their faces, their hands clapping rapidly. Even the Professors were standing, supporting the sudden applause and praise.
Harry had just smiled, feeling warmth blanket his cheeks, as he sat down beside Ron and Seamus. He looked at the staff table at the front of the Hall, and saw Dumbledore's deep blue eyes dancing. Dumbledore raised his glass to Harry, and Harry laughed, as he did the same.
"Harry… You know, my mum never answered any of my questions that I sent to her while you were away. She always sent me howlers, screaming at me to never write again, because she told me not to," Ron said, making a face as he dropped the roll onto his plate. "I'm guessing there had to be at least four, in all," he said. Harry heard Seamus laugh beside him.
"Oh, Harry, you should have been here," he said, laughing. "Those howlers… The look on Ron's face? Oh, if I could've brought you back here for that one moment, I would've. It was priceless, Harry, priceless. Poor Ron, thought he was on fire, for a second." Harry laughed faintly, as Ron glared at Seamus. Neville nodded his head, agreeing, as Ron sent another death-glare his way.
"Merlin, Ron, don't get your knickers in a twist," Seamus shot back. "I was only joking."
"No, you were not!" Ron cried. A sly grin spread across Seamus's face.
"You're right," he grinned, and Ron threw his half-eaten roll at him. Seamus dodged it quickly, as it hit Neville square in the face. Ron was laughing so hard at the look on Neville's face that Harry had to hold on to him to prevent him from falling to the floor.
"Ron!" Neville said. "What was that for?"
"He didn't mean to, Neville," Harry said for Ron, for he knew that right at the moment Ron couldn't speak for anyone, even for himself. He was too busy laughing. "He meant to hit Seamus."
Of course, it didn't help that Seamus was laughing so hard that Harry thought he was literally going to die, also.
Neville shook his head, turning back to his food. "Half-wits," he mumbled under his breath. Harry smiled, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.
It was only minutes later that Harry realized that Hermione had been awfully quiet through the whole meal. He looked over at her, across the table, and he could feel himself stiffen at the sight. Uncertainty and worry coursed through him, as he watched her.
Her face was white with horror, her eyes watery. She was trembling.
And in her hands, he was sure, was a newspaper article.
"Hermione?" he called out to her. "Are you alright?" The concern and alarm in his voice caused Ron and the other Gryffindors to look over. Hermione didn't answer. Harry shot a troubled glance at Ron, who gave one back, in return.
"Hermione?" Ron asked. "What's that you're reading?"
Finally, she looked up, her deep brown eyes glossy, sad and hurt. Ginny, who was beside her, looked over at the article, and gave Harry and Ron a fearful and guilty look.
Without a word, Hermione dropped the article from her hands, stood up, and ran out of the hall.
The Hall had quieted, as Harry's calls after her echoed and broke through all the chatter and conversation. The other tables looked over, curious. Harry returned his gaze to over where Hermione had been sitting, and saw that Ginny now had the newspaper in her hands.
"Harry," she said. "I don't think you should read this. It's-it's such filth. Oh Merlin, Hermione… What are we going to-"
"Ginny," Harry said firmly, in a serious tone that stated to her clearly that he was not to be messed with right at the moment, "give me the newspaper."
"But, Harry," she insisted.
"Harry--" Ron said, but Harry cut them off.
"I have a right to know. Give it to me. Right now." Ginny gave him a sad look, as she handed it over. Harry read it over, Ron peering beside him. He could feel his blood boil and his grip tighten with every word that he read.
COLD-HEARTED MUGGLEBORN BEST FRIEND BREAKS HERO'S HEART.
Just two days ago, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter were seen outside Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions, in Diagon Alley. Eyewitnesses speak out about the event, saying that Hermione Granger, a muggleborn who is very close to Harry Potter, broke his heart coldly without any mercy.
Hermione Granger is one of Harry Potter's two best friends, as the other is Ron Weasley. In the past she has been rumored to have an affair with both, each time cheating on them with other boys during their relationships. Hogwarts insiders have said that she was a harlot, a slut who played with boys' hearts and then destroyed them cruelly.
Eyewitnesses have said that at the scene, Harry Potter had been begging for her to reconsider their relationship, pleading for her to take him back. But the cold-blooded, pitiless witch did not pay any kindness at all to him at all.
"Poor boy," one witness spoke. "He yelled out that he loved her, that he would do anything for her, but she just turned away and ignored him. She's a heartless tramp, that's what she is. She doesn't deserve him."
"Harry Potter shouldn't waste his time on a sleazy scarlet woman like her," another witness says. "I don't know what he sees in her. She's not pretty, not even nice to look at."
"Hermione Granger is a Mudblood," another Hogwarts insider says. "I can't believe that Potter would go so low. Even if his expectations or tastes are utterly horrible, he must at least have some dignity or pride. He is a Pureblood."
"He doesn't need her. He deserves so much better. She needs to go back to the library where she belongs," a close friend says.
Harry Potter is the Hero of the Wizarding World, defeating Voldemort. He has currently returned to Hogwarts, where he is to graduate this year, along with Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger.
Harry could feel anger and fury rise inside him, as he looked at the picture placed above the article. It was them. At Diagon Alley. He couldn't believe how malicious and spiteful they could be… But he knew it. He had known it.
He had known that they would put something so wicked and cruel. And here it was, in his hands, on the front page. Lies, lies, lies. To break Hermione. To make people hate Hermione.
He was shaking with anger, as his fingers gripped the corners of the newspaper and tore it in half. He could feel every Gryffindor's eyes on him, silent. But he didn't care. He was too angry to care. He couldn't care.
The ripping sounds seemed to echo through their table, as the words chimed in his ears, making his hands work faster and faster, ripping and tearing with so much hate and rage. His breathing was heavy and hard, as he tore the paper into shreds. His jaw was set, his emerald eyes flashing dangerously. No one said a word, afraid and in shock. They had never seen him this way before. He had always been laughing in the past, smiling and being the sweet and charming boy that they knew and had grown so familiar to.
At that one moment, he knew what was coursing through their minds. He could feel it. And he knew it, as well.
He had changed.
He made sure the newspaper was destroyed, shredded into tiny pieces so that there was no way it could be mended or repaired. Inside, voices were shouting at him, ringing vindictively and swinging their fists in the air. His heart seemed to be turning cold, but burning with such intense and sharp fire. His chest seemed to be compressed, trying to hold back from yelling and shouting, from swearing at the world.
"Harry…mate, it's all rubbish. You know it is. Harry-" Ron started, trying to calm down his friend, but trying to compose himself in any way was far from his thoughts. He did not want to calm down. No, not this time. Too many times had they printed lies and false stories about his life, his friends. Too many times had they hurt the people around him.
They had gone too far, this time.
All those times before, he had stayed calm, reassuring himself that they were all just bloody dimwits with no lives, which he guessed was enough reason for them to try to ruin his, and his friends'. He had stayed collected and cool, when he could.
He was tired of keeping it all inside. Of trying to remain calm. Of being made a fool of on the front pages and articles. Of their words attacking his friends. He was so bloody tired, so tired that he was angry, and he could not keep it bottled up inside any longer.
"Harry," Ron said quietly, "they don't know what they're talking about, just-" But Harry didn't stay to hear the rest. He had bolted up from his seat, and run out, angrily. He burst through the Great Hall's doors, his breathing hard, tight, and ragged.
He wanted to yell, to shout, to beat them all to bloody pulp. He wanted to do something to satisfy his thirsting rage.
He could not hear the silence of the dark corridor, or see the reflecting and shiny floors. All he could hear was his heart's hammering beats, his breaths that made his body shake. His trembling hands were clenched into tight fists, his nails digging into his skin. He could feel the shooting pains from his palms, but all they seemed to do was fan the fire inside of him.
He hadn't heard the doors open again, but suddenly, he saw Ron in front of him. Ron's once twinkling and joyful blue eyes were dim, dark and worried.
"Harry, I understand you're angry, but please, you know that it's all trash! You know it! All your years here, they've always made up lies to put on the front page! Harry, I know you're still angry about-"
"They have no right!" Harry bellowed, his voice loud and livid. "They have no bloody right at all!"
"I know, I know, Harry," Ron said. "They're pigs, you know they are. Harry," Ron said, seeing his friend so enraged, "please, calm down." Ron put his hands on his shoulders, but Harry jerked away.
"Don't tell me to calm down!" he shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls and echoing. "Don't you bloody tell me to calm down! I can't calm down! I'm so tired of them attacking and condemning you and Hermione!"
"Harry-"
"They're trying to ruin her, Ron! I can't-I can't just let them harass and assault her with their filthy and false stories! I can't just stand here and let them hurt her! I can't!"
"Harry, just let it go! Just let it go! You have to, Harry! This won't help! It won't help at all!" But Harry continued, ignoring Ron's words.
"They don't know anything! Anything at all! Lies, lies, and more filthy lies!" he spat. "How could they say such things? How? About Hermione? How could they be so-" Ron watched, wide-eyed frozen with shock, as Harry turned and drove his fist right into the solid, firm, wall. Hard.
Ron didn't know what to do.
"I hate them!" Harry yelled, pulling back his fist again. "I hate them all! Damn them! Damn them all to hell!" He punched the wall again, as Ron heard a sickening and splintering crunch. But as Harry pulled his fist back again, Ron launched after him and caught his hand. Harry struggled against Ron, but Ron wouldn't let go. Ron grabbed both his wrists, and tried to make him listen.
"Don't do this, Harry," Ron said. "Don't do this to yourself! Don't let them get to you! Don't! You're doing exactly what they want you to do! Just stop it! It isn't worth it!"
"I don't care!" Harry shouted, trying to push Ron away. "I don't bloody care! I don't care if I am! They've won! They've won! They've finally made Harry Potter, The damn Hero lose his temper! They've finally succeeded!" Ron, his temper also rising, pushed Harry and pinned him against the wall.
"Mate, listen to me," Ron said, his voice dangerously low. "You don't want this. Don't lose it over this. Don't."
"Let go of me!" Harry yelled. "Let go of me!"
"No! Not until you swear to me that you'll calm down!"
"Ron, let-" Harry shoved him away with so much force, that Ron practically flew back. Ron made to tackle Harry, but he halted, watching his friend.
Harry stood there, breathing hard, his flashing emerald eyes dark, pained and hurt. He staggered back against the wall, leaning his head back on the solid surface. His chest was heaving, pain shooting up his body, from his hands and knuckles. His head was pounding with a sharp ache, his lungs thirsting and his heart threatening to leap out.
Ron watched silently, as Harry slowly slid down against the wall. His eyes were closed, his raven hair sticking up as much as before, covering his scar and forehead. Harry brought up his knees, and laid his head on them.
Just then, Ron noticed something on Harry's hands and knuckles. Ron looked at his own hands; fear and shock making his hard breaths cease in his throat.
His palms and fingers were coated with blood.
He looked back at Harry, his friend's hands bruised and bloody. He could see a wide, open and bleeding gash, wincing from the sight.
"Harry," Ron said, his voice quivering. "Harry… Your hands, Harry… Oh Merlin…"
Harry raised his head, and looked at his hands. His eyes didn't flicker with any bit of emotion, his expression unchanging. He looked at his hands like it was nothing unusual, as if it was common for knuckles to bleed. Ron walked over to him, worried for his friend. His blue eyes were dim with questions, shadowed with uncertainty.
"Harry, we best get you to the Hospital Wing… Madam Pomfrey's there… She wasn't at the staff table during supper…" Harry looked up at Ron, his eyes no longer filled with hate and vehemence, but were instead, as dark as he imagined hell must look like if it's flames were extinguished. They looked full, but vacant…
Ron had never, in his life, had seen his friend like this before.
And he was afraid. For Harry. He didn't know what had happened… He didn't know what could've happened…
But this wasn't the Harry he knew once before.
Harry saw that, all of that, in his friend's eyes. They had never failed to hide anything from him.
Ron offered him a hand, but Harry did not accept it, as he got up from the floor and they silently walked to the Hospital Wing.
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Madam Pomfrey had indeed been inside the Hospital Wing, as Ron and Harry walked inside. She had stared at them in shock, and was in even more shock as Harry showed her his hands. She had asked them, her voice high from surprise, what had happened, as she fussed over Harry. Harry told her quietly that he had an accident.
Madam Pomfrey sent Harry a look that made it clear that she didn't believe him, and then also glared at Ron.
"Mr. Weasley," she had said. "You should be looking out for Mr. Potter." Ron sighed, weary, collapsing.
"Can't help it if the bloke's angry and strong," he muttered under his breath. Madam Pomfrey examined his hands, then looked up at Harry, the look in her eyes dark and knowing.
"You've split your knuckles," she said to him, her lips pressed into a straight line. "They're broken… practically crushed." She shook her head, as she stood and made her way to get her potions and serums. "Wizards," she said. "One wonders what they could possibly find out of violence."
Ron sighed. "She probably thinks you and Malfoy had a brawl, and that you left your wand somewhere, therefore getting bloody with your fists instead. I swear," he said, shaking his head. "That woman's always got to put some blame on me, even though all I tried to do was stop you." He grinned at Harry, faintly. "Though, you've gotten pretty damn strong, Harry."
Madam Pomfrey came back, bottles following after her in mid-air. They set themselves down on the table neatly, as she took Harry's hands. She cleaned them up, wiping off the blood, and made him drink some potions that tasted like sewer water. Harry made a face, trying to gulp it down. It burned in his throat.
"Oh, honestly, Mr. Potter," she snapped. "You get yourself into this mess, and you expect something sweet?" Ron shot her a look, as she bandaged Harry's hands. "You'll stay here tonight," she said, standing up. "I don't want to see you coming back here again with another injury. Especially when the ball is tomorrow," she said, and then walked away.
"Oh, mate," Ron groaned. "I'd love to sneak you out, but… She's been keeping a sharp eye on me ever since…" he flushed, "well… She obviously thinks it's all my fault you're here."
Harry managed a smile. "That's alright, Ron."
"Listen, about Hermione…" Harry looked down at his bandaged hands.
"Ron… Forget about it. I have a feeling… She's not going to want to talk to me, just yet."
"But Harry, you're under estimating our dear Hermione! She's reasonable…" Harry shot him a look. "…Most of the time. But, Harry… Just hear me out, won't you? I'm sure she'll want to talk to you. She loves you, Harry-"
"Ron," he said warningly. Ron shook his head, standing up.
"Look, Seamus told me that you and Hermione were supposed to have that Honor dance together, and you're not going to have fun if you're not talking to each other, are you? Exactly!" Harry's eyes narrowed at him.
"How did you know-"
"Seamus overheard Dumbledore," he explained. "So, I'll be back with Hermione, okay?" Ron turned and started towards the doors.
"Ron, No!"
"Don't mess yourself up too bad while I'm away!" he said, as he walked out.
Harry sighed, closing his eyes. He had a very, very bad feeling about all of this.
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The door opened, ten minutes later, and Harry sat up, expecting it to be Hermione and Ron, but couldn't help but feel slight disappointment when he saw that it was Ginny.
He smiled faintly at her. "Hey, Ginny."
"Harry," she smiled. She took a seat beside him, and let out a sigh. "I-I'm sorry. About the article. I didn't mean-"
"It's okay," he said to her. "It's not your fault."
"No, but Harry, I had the article. And then, Hermione saw it and she… I'm so sorry, Harry. I can't believe…"
"Ginny," he said, not feeling up to talking about what had happened. "I don't really… I don't feel like talking about it, right now."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry." Harry smiled at her. He watched as she looked down at his hands, and gasped.
"Harry! What happened? I mean, Ron told me, but-"
"I split my knuckles," he said, looking down at his hands. "I… Well, stupid thing to do, really, but I drove my fist into the wall. It seems… When you're angry, you don't really think clearly." Ginny let out a small laugh.
"I see." After, an awkward silence engulfed the both of them, not certain what to say. Finally, Harry spoke.
"Ginny… I wanted to thank you. For that picture that you took of me and Hermione…" Ginny smiled.
"Oh, Harry," she said. "That was such a sweet picture… You don't need to thank me. I mean, you and Hermione… You two looked so adorable together." Harry smiled faintly, looking down. The odd silence arrived again. He was looking over at the doors, wishing that Ron would hurry with Hermione, before he turned to Ginny once again. He was aware of how close their faces seemed to be, just now.
He opened his mouth to say something, but his words were stifled, as her mouth came crashing onto his. His body stiffened, frozen from shock.
He didn't know what to do. He was yelling at his body to push her away, right this instant. The voices in his head were screaming at him again, roaring, but his body was unmoving and still.
Just then, he heard the doors open, and voices enter the room. It all happened so quickly in his eyes, as Ginny had pulled back before he could push her away, her eyes wide from her actions and at the sight of the two people who had entered the room.
Harry's heart stopped, the deafening and horrible silence throbbing in the room.
There, standing at the foot of his bed, was Ron and Hermione.
Their faces were pale, eyes wide with surprise. But his heart broke, as he saw hurt glaze over Hermione's eyes.
"Hermione," he cried hoarsely, "Hermione, this isn't-"
But she had already turned and run out of the infirmary, before any more words could escape his mouth. Without another single thought, he bolted from his bed, swinging his legs over and running after her. He dashed out into the corridor, as he saw Hermione's retreating back. He ran faster, his long legs giving him an advantage.
"Hermione!" he called out. "Hermione! Wait! Stop, Hermione! Hermione!" he shouted. But she would not halt. She kept running, but he was catching up to her.
It was obvious that she did not want to listen to what he had to say.
But he didn't care.
He was going to make her listen.
He was going to whatever it took to make her listen to him.
"Hermione!" he shouted. "Please, Hermione! Stop!" He willed his legs to go faster, and soon he had dashed past her, turning and halting right in front of her so rapidly that she crashed into him. He held her to him, his hands on her shoulders, gripping her tightly. He could feel his palms burn beneath the bandages, as he could feel her warmth course through him, spreading into his skin. He could feel her trembling, her breaths so hard and rapid that her body shook with every breath she let out.
She made to push away from him, her face digging into his chest, but he would not let her go.
"Hermione, please," he said to her. "Please. Just let me explain." She struggled harder, her cries stifled as she tried to push him away. He whispered her name again, determined to make her listen.
Just then, she stopped. Her body was completely still, but he could still her breaths through his shirt. He could feel her tears on his skin, soaking through the fabric.
He sighed softly, before stepping back once, so that he could see her face.
Wet tears were spilling down her cheeks, her brown eyes glossy and hurt.
"Hermione," he said quietly. "Listen to me. Please." She looked up at him, before raising her hands and hastily swiping away her tears with her fingers.
"What happened, back there, with me and Ginny… It isn't-it isn't what you think."
"It… I don't-" she started, but Harry cut her off.
"Hermione, it was no-"
"No, Harry!" she said, jerking away from his grasp. He stared at her, his hands burning from the chill, the cold air prickling his skin. She raised her hands again, as more tears slipped out. He wanted to reach out to her, and hold her against him once more… But he stayed still, frozen, watching, waiting for her reply.
His senses were roaring, but at the same time, raw with the silence that he feared. He waited, as she just looked up at him with her brown eyes, brimming with tears. Seeing her this way hurt and broke him… But he could not get his rushing and shouting thoughts to calm, and make his body and limbs cooperate. He was still, as he watched her intently.
"Harry," she said, her voice quivering. "You don't…you don't have to explain. You really don't. It… it doesn't matter." She bit her lip and looked away, at the dark wall beside her, as more tears leaked out. Harry noticed that with every word that she had forced from her mouth, it seemed to be tearing her up inside brutally. She held herself, and Harry felt his heart thrash about, but he let it go.
He didn't understand why he didn't fight, why he didn't fight for her… But right now, it seemed useless. That look in her eyes, the way her voice was so shaky he knew she was on the brink of fresh tears… He was not sure if he could fight, anymore. He was not sure if she wanted him to.
"I-I don't even know," she raised her sleeve and wiped away her tears harshly, "why I'm like this. Crying. I don't even know why I still feel it. Merlin, I'm so pathetic," she said, more tears slipping from her eyes.
"No, Hermione, you're not," he said softly.
"It shouldn't matter," she said, holding herself tighter. "It shouldn't matter. We're not together anymore. We've never been. It shouldn't matter to me anymore." Harry felt his throat tighten, hearing those words. Her words rang in his ears, stinging him venomously. He felt like insisting, he felt like trying to make her understand again… But as he watched her again, silence separating them and their thoughts, contact, he felt as if his body was drained of energy. He felt so defeated. He felt so empty, so heavy. So weak.
"I didn't kiss her," he whispered. "I didn't. You have to know that." She still didn't meet his gaze, as she closed her eyes and more tears slipped out.
He wanted to wrap his arms around her, to wipe away her tears, once again… He wanted to hold her, and make everything better.
He wanted to be there for her. Even if she was the one who had pushed him away, he still wanted to comfort her, and tell her that everything was going to be just fine.
He would tell her, over and over again, that he would never leave her. He would promise that. He had left, before, but everything was different now. He wouldn't leave her side. He wouldn't.
He couldn't bear to hurt her anymore than he had already.
"Harry, you-you don't have to… I… It doesn't-" Every word pained her, he knew, as he watched her struggle to say them.
"You have to understand, Hermione. You have to believe me." But she went on, as if she hadn't heard him at all.
"It shouldn't matter," she whispered to herself, crying silently. "It shouldn't." Harry swallowed hard.
"It shouldn't matter," he repeated quietly, after her. "But does it, Hermione? Does it matter? Does it matter to you?"
He waited for her to answer, as she silently wept.
"I don't know, Harry. I don't know," she whispered, barely audible, through her tears. Harry stepped towards her, feeling his heart slowly being torn to pieces, seeing her this way. When she didn't back away, he kept walking towards her, until he was close enough to wrap his arms around her.
This time, she did not struggle, or try to push him away.
She let him hold her.
She cried onto his chest, as he held her tightly, closing his eyes.
"Harry…" he heard her whisper, "I just want you to be happy… to be safe… I can't… I don't know what to do…"
Harry merely held her, not knowing what to say. Nor did he want to say anything. He just tried to tell her, through his embrace, that all he needed to be happy…
Was her.
Suddenly, he heard a loud bang, from behind them. Immediately, he recognized the sound. It was the Hospital Wing's doors.
"Harry Potter!" he heard someone shriek. "Mr. Potter, get back in the infirmary this instant!" His eyes bolted open, as Hermione's sobs halted and she stiffened in his arms. She twisted away from his grasp.
"Hermione, wait," he said hoarsely, as he tried to catch her hand, but she was already gone.
She was already so far from his reach.
He stared after her, his heart splitting rapidly and his pulse throbbing, the icy air biting at his skin. Her remaining tears stung on his skin, and the warmth that he had just held against him that was her, clawed at his conscience and heart.
He watched her disappear, until he could no longer hear her echoing footsteps.
He turned and walked back towards the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey gave him a withering glare, as she scolded him and he walked inside.
He walked blindly, not hearing any of the words that came out of her mouth, as he sat down on his bed.
His world was spinning, and in his ears there was a white noise that bellowed and drowned everything out.
ooooooooooooo
The bed sheets felt numbingly cold, later on that night, lying awake and staring at the nude ceiling. He was deathly tired, the Hospital Wing silent and still, but he could not find peace or sleep. The moon was shone brightly outside, the stars twinkled and provided a beam that sliced through the darkness, scattering his thoughts as he tried to collect them.
Her words echoed in his ears, and the way it seemed as if he could see her heart through her eyes. The way he had a feeling, inside the depths of his soul, that she still loved him, just as much as before.
Somewhere, deep in his restless and broken heart, he knew.
He had let her go, once again.
But, looking at the moonbeam that dominated over the deep midnight darkness, he didn't feel so hopeless, or defeated, or weak.
Because looking at that glowing moonbeam, he saw a glimmer of hope.
And that was enough for now.