Boys Don't Cry
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters except Matthew. And the plot. I also own the plot.
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Well… So, this fic is finally coming to an end.
Of course, this is not the end. Yet.
Two to three more chapters (keep in mind that some chapters have two parts to them, like for example, this one and chapter 6) on the way, folks, and then it shall be goodbye. So, yes, a reviewer said that we only had the Ball, the dance, and the walk in the snow to look forward to. Also, I have some plans for the story that I have not yet mentioned, but I'll just tell you that there's still a rocky path left to the happy ending. This chapter is going to be rockiest it's ever been. I hope you're all surprised… I am very ashamed of myself that I have given away so much of the not-so-secret plot in these darn author notes. So, I shall stop. Besides, the end's coming, and I don't want to ruin your happy ending.
Happy reading. Thanks to the reviewers who have graced me with their opinions and words. This fic is for all of you.
I shall post up the next part of this chapter tomorrow, so keep a look out, eh? (The ball and the surprise are next!)
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Downfall
Harry awakened in the Hospital Wing, rubbing his eyes as he reached over for his glasses. He looked to the windows, his head feeling a bit light and dizzy. The sky outside the windows was still dim as light snow fell. The gray clouds were heavy, as they hovered lowly and the wind blew, causing the snowfall to slant as it descended. He sighed, leaning back on the bed. He felt his head drop against the soft pillow, as he let out a loud sigh.
The events of last night had replayed over and over again inside his mind, flashing before his eyes, and even in his dreams he seemed to watch it, feeling every harsh blow to his heart. He still remembered her pained words, her tear-filled eyes, and her voice that shook with every breath that escaped from her. He closed his eyes, trying to focus his mind.
He couldn't blame Ginny. He couldn't. He didn't know her reason for kissing him, but the thought that maybe she still liked him was out of the question for he knew that she had been over her feelings for him years ago. The person he could only really blame was himself. He cursed himself for not pushing Ginny away, for just sitting there although he knew well enough that Ron and Hermione were going to drop by.
He couldn't explain why he hadn't just pushed her away. He did not have feelings for her in that way at all. But yet he sat there, like a stiff, wooden post.
It was an odd feeling. It was like feeling something else, something completely foreign and alien, take over his body. Like ice that wasn't even the least bit cold, freeze him entirely. He hadn't been able to move although he had no such intentions for Ginny. He had been paralyzed for those few seconds her lips had been pressed against his.
But now he knew. All it took was a few seconds for everything to go wrong.
Harry let out another frustrated but weary sigh. He had not a clue as to what he could do now. Hermione had seen, Ron too… And he hadn't even had a chance to think about Ron's reaction. All he could hope for was that Ron wasn't angry with him. Now that he had lost Hermione, the last thing he needed was for Ron to be upset with him too.
Harry gathered the frosty sheets in handfuls, as he felt the chill of the Hospital Wing seep into his body. It was even colder since he was near the windows, and though Madam Pomfrey usually used heating charms for the infirmary, his best guess was that she had forgotten. It was quiet, not the least bit of noise or echoes. He could only hear his shallow breaths, as he breathed in and out, his mind feeling as if it were sinking deeper and deeper, drowning with each second the world let pass.
He thought about Hermione again, and the way her hurt, brown eyes had pleaded at him. They seemed to be asking him of something, but he did not understand what. He remembered that she kept repeating to herself that it didn't matter, that it didn't matter that Harry had shared a kiss with Ginny. And Harry had to ask. He had to ask if it did matter, if it did still mattered to her.
To his ears, it sounded as if she was still trying to convince herself that it didn't.
But she looked up at him, looking into his emerald eyes, and whispered that she didn't know. And Harry knew, from that look in her eyes, that she was trying her best not to know. That all this time, she had also tried to convince herself that she didn't love him. That she did not need him. That she could watch him live on with his life, move on, without feeling any pain. That she could see him again with another girl, and not break down and cry when she was alone.
But she couldn't. She was not strong enough.
Thinking of him still brought her to tears.
He could never forget the feeling of her inside his arms. Or the warmth, or the stream of hope and satisfaction fill him whenever he held her. He could not ignore the fact that he never wanted to let go, never wanting to watch her turn away and disappear ever again. He wanted nothing but to hold her and tell her that he loved her and that he would never leave her again. He wouldn't leave her. He would not leave her side.
That night, her heart had been in her words. Her heart had been in her eyes. Though she tried to deny it, her tears and voice denied her. That night, he had felt the hope that he had thought he had lost; spark up inside of him again. He saw it in her eyes, the way her tears had fallen so easily, despite her effort to keep them back. By running away, he knew that she knew she would seem weak, but not weak enough to let him see her spill her tears before him. By running away, she thought that she could escape him. That her thoughts would not haunt her, and that somehow, she would also leave behind her hurt and her tears.
And her broken heart.
But he knew. He had seen it. Maybe she would escape him by running away, but slowly, it would eat her from the inside out. And maybe she thought that the hurting would end and that she would live on happily, after. And maybe that was all true. That she did not need him. That she was already mended inside, that her heart was functioning as healthy as before.
But her tears had defied her.
And now he knew. He knew.
She still loved him.
Of course, now, that sparked new and fresh determination inside of him that he thought had long faded away. Now, he could feel it all start to construct inside of him again, the hope, the willpower and strength to make her listen. He wanted to try again. He wanted to resist fate, if his fate was to be without her. He wanted to run after her, even though she was long and soon to be out of his sight.
But he knew that she was still here. She was still here. And he would still try.
It was not too late. No, not yet.
He knew she had a deeper reason as to why they couldn't be together, as to why she refused to be with him again. As Ron had said, Hermione would never give away her heart so recklessly. Nor would she take it back. Not when he had also given her his heart. He knew that there was something she was not telling him. Something bigger, something much more important. Something that she would turn away from him for.
He didn't know if he could understand. Her reasons, of not wanting to be left behind, of not wanting to be hurt or telling him that he deserved so much better… That was not Hermione. Hermione was logical and smart. She was brave and she took chances. She was honest and pure.
But she was hiding something. She had to be. It did not add up.
He knew that the vision she had received from Voldemort was one thing that she had not confessed to him. And he couldn't help but get slightly angry as he wondered why.
He did not know what Voldemort had told her, or made her see, and it was killing him. He did not know how it had affected her. He didn't know if she was hurt in any way. He didn't know if Voldemort had tried to lure her away. He did not know anything, anything at all.
At this time, it seemed like she was hiding everything from him.
It felt like she was hiding the world from him. Her world.
Harry could be reasonable. He had tried to understand both sides before he could ever start to make remarks or choose sides. Harry was a reasonable person. He understood easily.
But not when he did not know her side. Not when she refused to tell him anything.
Harry opened his eyes, sighing loudly once again, as he stared up at the bare, white ceiling. It seemed so high up above him, as he looked at it expectedly.
He imagined it coming down on him. Breaking and falling, collapsing and raining down in pieces.
That was how he felt. As if any minute now, he was about to see everything around him, everything he had ever known, everything he had ever loved… crash down and be left in ruins. And he would stand there, with nowhere to go, nowhere to stay.
He was all alone.
And he would walk through the mess, looking around, feeling defeated and weak. He would fall down to his knees, and cry.
But no, he would not do that, not this time.
He was not going to let everything crumble around him.
He was not going to break down and cry once it happened.
And Harry let a rare smile caress his lips, as a thought ran through his head and he kept on watching the ceiling.
Boys don't cry.
Not when there was still something to be done, something that could be made right and fixed. Not when there was still hope.
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Harry walked into the Great Hall, keeping his face expressionless as he could hear the loud chatter slowly die down as he entered. He could feel their eyes on him, as he looked straight ahead, glaring and trying to ignore the whispers that had started to erupt again as he walked passed them.
He should've known that somehow they would all find out. Hogwarts was never really a place for secrets, especially when it came to his secrets. It reminded him of the newspaper tabloids, and it made his anger rise even more. He walked briskly to the Gryffindor table, trying to seem unaware of the murmurs and their eyes trailing him as he passed.
He was glad to see that Ron had already gone down, and was eating with Seamus and Neville. He sat down beside him quietly, as Ron looked up at his friend with dim eyes.
"Hey," Harry said to him, and Ron nodded. He gave Harry a look that he knew all too well, as Ron silently turned away and continued to talk with Seamus.
Harry ate his breakfast slowly and silently, not uttering a word, as he kept his eyes down. He didn't finish what was on his plate, as he quietly pushed it away, his appetite almost non-existent this morning.
Ron stood as soon as he was done with his meal, and Harry followed after him. They walked down the deserted and empty corridors to the Gryffindor dormitories.
Ron glanced at him, and then looked away, as the stairs came into view.
"Are your hands better?" he asked, and Harry nodded.
"Better. It's not aching or burning anymore. Madam Pomfrey told me to keep the bandages on until after the ball. She said it's not quiet healed yet." Ron nodded, as they ascended the stairs. They walked up quietly, as the portraits talked to one another, throwing only a few comments and greetings their way, this time. They reached the Fat Lady's portrait and Ron was the first to speak the password.
"Salum Marinus," he said, and the Fat Lady nodded, as the portrait door opened. They walked inside, quietly.
Harry looked around the common room, hoping to see Hermione. But once again, his hopes disappeared quickly, as his eyes met nothing but the furniture and some abandoned books on the table. He sighed, as he followed after Ron to the Boy's Dormitories.
Harry closed the door behind them, surprised to see the room empty.
"They're all down at breakfast," Ron said, as if reading his mind. "They don't want to be late, with the ball and all. They're planning to go outside and chase each other a bit, later on, in the snow. It seems they've all got a date." Ron sat down on his bed, looking up at Harry, his blue eyes serious, but only dimmed faintly. "Except you, of course." Harry stood there, his arms across his chest, watching his ginger-haired friend. Harry could not quite figure out what his friend was feeling towards him. His blue eyes did not express the rage he expected it to, but yet they were dark and sharp.
"I haven't asked anyone," Harry said, truthfully.
"Oh, of course," Ron said dryly, his sapphire eyes absent of the sparkle and twinkle of amusement he had gotten used to in his friend's eyes. "Why would Harry Potter ask anyone else when the girl he loves, broke his heart?" Harry stiffened at his words, as his green eyes and expression darkened. Ron's surprising remark triggered something to suddenly sting inside of him.
The look in Ron's eyes indicated that he knew very well that he had struck a nerve.
"I mean… Hermione Granger, the Gryffindor smarts and bookworm, right in front of you, right beside you… How could anyone miss the opportunity? How could anyone miss the chance to ask?" Harry's eyes flashed faintly, an insinuation of his approaching anger.
"I don't think you understand, Ron," Harry said darkly.
"No, I don't think you understand, Harry," Ron said, his anger now appearing. His blue eyes were now sinister with anger, and his voice was rising. "I tell you that I was going to come back with your beloved Hermione, and then you go off and let my sister snog you?" Ron said, shouting. Harry's fists clenched, as he glared at Ron. He could feel his rage bubble inside of him.
"Do you think I asked her to, Ron?" Harry snapped. "Do you really think that I begged your sister to kiss me?"
"You knew, Harry!" Ron exploded, his voice shockingly loud. "You bloody knew! I told you! I told you I was going to come back with her!"
"Do you think I can tell the damn future, Ron?" Harry shot back, his fury burning inside of him. "Do you think so? Well, I'm sorry, but I can't! I can't! Don't you think that I wanted to push your sister away? Don't you think that I wanted to talk to Hermione? To try and make everything work out? Do you think that I really wanted to hurt her again? To see her cry?" he shouted. "I didn't, Ron! You know for a bloody fact that I didn't!"
"Why didn't you?" Ron accused, "why didn't you push her away? Why did you let her kiss you?" Harry let out a frustrated sigh, throwing his hands down and looking away. He could feel his gaze sharp and hard, as if trying to burn the wall in his view. His jaw was set, and inside his veins, his rushing blood seemed to be prickling him. His rage was building up immensely inside, but he tried to calm it down, as he took tight and tense breaths.
"I don't know," Harry said, firmly. His voice was hard and he seemed to be trying to hold back his anger. "I don't know, Ron." He heard Ron let out a deep sigh, as silence engulfed the room. The silence was neither a comfortable one, or one filled with tense awkwardness. Harry could tell that Ron was thinking, as the silence seemed to stretch into eternity.
"Harry…" Ron said, hesitating, his anger was still evident, but he was now much more composed. "I know that I have no right to be angry with you. I know that. I'm sorry. But I guess… I'm still in a state of shock. I mean, you and my sister… And Hermione…" Ron dropped his head into his hands, as he groaned. "Oh Merlin." Harry sighed, closing his eyes. Even Ron seemed to know that things looked to be a broken mess now. "Mate… I'm sorry I got so angry… But have you seen Hermione? She won't talk to anyone, Harry. She said that she wasn't angry at Ginny, but that's it. I tried getting Parvati and Lavender to get her to come down, or at least talk to me… But it's a lost case, Harry."
"No," Harry whispered, barely audible to his friend's ears. Ron looked up and realized that Harry seemed to be trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince him. "No, it can't be a lost case, Ron."
"Harry, you haven't told me all of it. I'm sure of it. Something happened. Something that's making this all worse, something that's eating a vast hole in the solution. And I'm not going to make you tell me. I mean, I just think of how you two, even all three of us, have been so distant with each other lately… It's not the same, Harry. I know that things could never be the same, after what's happened… But this is different. Like there's a huge gap there that I'm positive that the battle didn't even create. It seems to me… that it's you two who did it." Ron paused, as his voice dropped lower, into a quiet whisper. "I don't need to know what happened, Harry. But it seems like neither of you are trying to make it work." Hearing those words, Harry's temper immediately rose, once again.
His eyes opened, as he stared at Ron with a dangerous look in his eyes. Who was Ron to tell him that he wasn't trying? How could he say such a thing?
"I'm not trying?" Harry asked, his voice harsh and angry. "What are you bloody playing at, Ron? Who are you to say that I'm not making an effort to mend things? How can you bloody say that?" Harry's voice became louder and louder. "You know how I feel about her! How can you say that I'm not trying? How?"
"Harry--" Ron started, but Harry's burning rage prevented him from staying calm and listening to his friend's words.
"You don't even know half of it, Ron!" Harry bellowed. "You're right! There's something I didn't tell you! Loads! But just because I didn't specify every single bloody fact doesn't mean you can say that I'm not trying to right things between me and Hermione!"
"Harry, wait!" Ron shouted. "Would you shut up and listen to me for a moment?" Harry gritted his teeth, his fists clenching tighter and tighter.
"What," Harry said, his voice strained and trying to prevent from yelling and letting his anger leak out again, "could you possibly have to say that I haven't heard yet? What else are you going to accuse me of? What else, Ron? In how many ways can you say to me that I'm not trying?" Ron stood up, his anger challenging his.
"I meant, hard enough!" he yelled. "I meant that it seemed that neither of you are trying hard enough in this situation!"
"And what is hard enough, Ron? What do I have to do to prove to both you and Hermione that I am trying my best? What do I have to do to prove that I really do love her and want to make everything work out?"
"Have you tried at all to talk to her, Harry?" Ron's voice dared Harry's.
"I have! I have tried to talk to her! I ran after her, Ron, you saw!"
"And what did she say?" Ron's eyes narrowed into tiny slits at Harry. "What did she say to you?"
"She said that it didn't matter!" Harry said, feeling his heart crumble from the immense weight layered atop of it. His lungs were restricted and felt so tightly bound that he couldn't breathe. His voice got quieter, more desperate and frustrated as he went on, becoming hoarse from all his shouting. He could hear her voice again, feel her tears on his skin, feel her inside his arms. The memories and events played in his mind, echoing and taunting him as he felt everything crush and fall apart inside of him. His knees felt weak; his throat was hot, feeling closed up and blocking the words that were trying to escape him. "She said that it didn't matter," he said, his green eyes filled with a mix of emotions that Ron had never seen before.
It was anger, sadness, desperation, hopelessness and frustration all at the same time.
"It shouldn't matter," he cried out. "She said that it shouldn't matter. But it does. It does, I know it. It still does, to her. But she didn't tell me. She told me that she didn't know. And… I know she's lying. She doesn't want me to know, Ron, and I don't know why! I don't have a bloody clue! She's keeping so much from me, from us! She's the one preventing the right, not me! I ask her, but she doesn't answer. She doesn't want to." Harry let out an aggravated sigh, as he ran both hands through his hair. "She doesn't want me to know why."
"Hermione's a logical person," Ron said. "She wouldn't keep something like that from you."
"But she is, Ron," he said darkly. "She is. She tells me that she's doing this because she doesn't want to be hurt anymore, that I deserve so much better… And maybe she's right. But I don't want someone else better. There's no one else. And when I try to talk to her, she turns away, Ron. Hermione's not one to shut herself from the world, from her friends. And I know that I hurt her terribly, but… I can't help but feel there's something more. Something that's preventing her, preventing us, from getting any closer." Harry looked at Ron, his eyes glimmering with a certain desperation that he had never seen him express before.
Harry was a strong boy. Ron knew that, all his years beside him, all his years he spent with him. There was nothing he could not fight through. And not once, had he shown hopelessness or desperation. He had never shown a sign of giving up. Never. Harry Potter never gave up. He fought for what was right, for what he knew was right. Even if the world was against him. He never backed down.
He had never lost hope.
Until now. Ron had never seen this before, and it shocked him. And then, that's when he realized why. He knew, now. He understood why he was like this.
Harry's only weakness was the ones he loved.
And the only one who held Harry's heart wholly; whom he gave it to… was Hermione.
"Harry…" Ron faltered, staring at his broken friend. "I wish I could tell you what to do. I really do. I wish I could make everything better. But-"
"You can't," Harry said, harshly, his eyes glittering menacingly. "You can't make it any better. No one can." Ron looked down, feeling the silence fill the room once again, embracing the two boys.
Ron knew that he had angered Harry with his past words, about Hermione. He had accused him of being lazy, of not trying hard enough to win her back. Ron would've thought twice before letting those words slip from his mouth, but he didn't. He didn't know why. He would never intend any hurt or harm against Harry.
But just seeing his other best friend's face, remembering the shock and the look of pain and brokenness… It made him angry. It made him furious at Harry. It made him want to shout at him, make him try to understand…
But the truth was, none of them understood. Not Harry, Not Hermione, not even himself.
Ron still loved Hermione, deep down in his heart. Maybe his feelings for her in the past years had vanished, but that did not mean he did not care for her so protectively. He wanted badly for his two friends to finally find each other, to see that they really were the perfect match, and they were not to belong to any other.
He wanted them to be happy. And he knew. He knew that all Harry needed to be happy was Hermione. And all Hermione needed to be happy was Harry.
And, he knew they both knew that, no matter how hard and long they tried to deny or refuse it. It was the truth. No one could never really escape the truth. He knew that though things seemed broken and fallen now, in ruins and twisted in such a way it seemed to never be repaired…
Harry never gave up. Neither did Hermione. In his life, he had never seen two people any more stubborn than those two when they put their mind to it. All he had to do was wait. And hope, and pray. He hoped that Harry saw that too.
"There's still the ball," Ron said, quietly. "You can straighten things out there." Harry didn't answer, as his eyes were directed forcefully and severely at the wall in front of him. "Harry, I'm sorry," Ron whispered.
"Don't be," Harry said, his voice firm and hard. "It's not your fault."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Harry ate his meal beside Ron, quietly, as Seamus and Neville conversed with his ginger-haired friend. Harry could see them point their puzzled and concerned glances his way, but he was felt awfully tired and weary. He didn't think he could care any less.
Hermione was nowhere to be seen, once again. She hadn't gone down to breakfast, and she hadn't made an appearance at all during the twenty minutes he had been in lunch. He sighed inwardly, picking at his food. He hadn't had quite an appetite these past few days.
He had heard their talks about her, their remarks and comments. He didn't mean to, for hearing those things hurt and stung him, but everywhere he went, it seemed they were all talking about her like some new popular merchandise. At times he barely held in his anger and irritation, and when he could not hold it in anymore, he just got up abruptly and walked out. But today, hearing a group of Gryffindor girls talk about her, he wanted nothing to do but plug his ears and hold himself. Inside, his thoughts were stirring once again, painfully, as they revived memories of her. He kept his head bowed, his gaze down at his plate or at the swirling liquid of his pumpkin juice inside his glass. But it seemed as if his vision had also tuned out. He did not know what he was looking at, but his sight was set and it seemed there was nothing to get them to waver or move.
"She's not been in the Library all this time," he heard a female voice say. Even with all the laughter and loud chatter, he managed to hear about her. "I've seen her, you know, in the dormitories. Poor girl."
"You can't hide such a thing," another girl agreed. "Heartbreak. Never thought the girl could look any worse."
"She's not been out of the dormitories since yesterday. I've heard that she's been locked herself up there because she knows that Harry will go looking for her in the Library."
"Well, that's pretty predictable, isn't it? Hermione Granger in the Library? I swear, every time someone mentions the Library, her face pops up in my head. It's pretty scary, when it happens. I mean… She practically lives in that stuffy room."
"Not anymore. She can no longer hide in there."
"Hermione Granger without the Library? Miraculous, that's what that is! How long do you think she'll last?"
"I'd say she's probably read all the books in there. What with all her free time and all, finishing all those assignments ages before they're ever due."
"What about Harry? Have you seen the papers?"
"After what happened yesterday? Are you kidding me? More people than the whole Gryffindor house went over and owled home for a copy."
"It's pretty brutal, what they did to her."
"It is. But do you really think she broke his heart?"
"Definitely. There's no question about it."
"Pretty cold, don't you think? To her own best friend!" and with that, they laughed, like some new, juicy and hilarious humor or joke. Harry felt his gaze sharpen, as he glared down at his plate. He stabbed at his food, as it made a clinking sound as it hit the surface of the plate. Gritting his teeth, he pressed down hard and dragged his fork, making a screeching and ear-splitting shriek from the tines scratching forcefully on the plate. He heard more clinks of silverware dropping as people covered their ears with their hands.
"Harry!" Ron said, gritting his teeth from the unbearable sound, "what in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?" He heard other shouts of remarks directed at him, as he heard a particularly loud one from the table beside them.
"Knock it off!"
But as Harry raised his fork again and was about to start another round and the students braced themselves, as Ron tried to make him stop, the Great Hall's doors opened. Harry's hand stopped, as his gaze was fixed upon the person who had stridden in.
Harry's fork dropped with a loud clank on his plate, shock plastered on his face.
Matthew Snape walked through the long aisles of the tables, as the hall had quieted and was now buzzing with whispers and questions. Harry stared at him, surprised, alarmed, disturbed, and dark misunderstanding and confusion etched across his pale face. Almost immediately, Matthew's bottomless black eyes met him, glittering with a sinister shadow. Harry's body tensed with anger as Matthew smirked at him.
"Potter," he nodded at him, before he walked past to Albus Dumbledore, who was now standing with a serious look on his face. Harry's burning gaze followed him, as Matthew talked to Dumbledore and he nodded. Harry could not tell what they were talking about, but he tried to understand the seriousness of the situation. Harry had a blank expression on his face, as Dumbledore seemed also quite surprised and alarmed as Matthew told him something, but soon, a chair beside him appeared, and Dumbledore motioned for him to sit down beside him. Matthew nodded, his dark eyes glittering, as he walked over.
Harry stayed silent, watching him with suspicion, his lips pursed into a thin line.
He felt someone tug on his sleeve, and he turned slowly, hesitating to look away from the scene before him. Something was nagging him, inside. The thing that baffled and disturbed him was that he didn't know what. He found himself looking at a row of faces, staring at him with confused and curious looks.
"Harry," Ron said, his gaze peering over at the staff table, "who's that bloke who just walked in? I've never seen him before, but yet…"
"-He seems frighteningly familiar," Neville said, his voice shaky.
"Black hair, pale skin, dark eyes, an awful looking face," Seamus said, disgusted. "Reminds me strangely of-"
"A too close resemblance to-" Ron said, turning his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Professor Snape," Harry finished tightly. The boys were quiet, as they looked at him with strange looks on their faces. Harry could see a scared look on Neville's face, as his face turned green. Ron's eyes were wide, and Seamus's mouth was agape.
"Blimey!" Ron said. "I can't believe it! It's Professor Snape all over again!"
"He's dead," Neville said. "That can't be him."
"It can so," Seamus insisted, earning a glare from Neville. "The resemblance is too odd and uncanny…" he shuddered. "Scary."
"Indeed," Ron nodded. "So, who is he, anyway, Harry?" Ron turned to him. Harry looked darkly at Matthew, who was now laughing.
"His name is Matthew," Harry said, the tone of his voice clearly showing his distaste for him. "Matthew Snape. Snape's son." Suddenly, he heard coughing, loud and murderous coughing. He looked over, and saw Seamus's face was red, one hand holding his throat, as the other was holding his glass full of pumpkin juice. Across the table from Seamus, was a crimson-faced and angry Dean, whose face was now wet with the pumpkin juice Seamus had spewed out. All the boys were looking at him with horror.
No one helped Seamus with his murderous choking until moments later, when they recovered from their shock.
"Snape's son?" Ron asked, his face contorted with pure confusion and disgust. "Snape had a son?"
"Snape was capable of having a son?" Seamus asked, his voice high.
"Snape found someone to have a son with?" Neville asked, his face still green. Harry sighed.
"Apparently so," he said.
"Are you sure, Harry?" Neville asked. "You're positive? I mean, Snape, that mean, old, greasy, stupid, horrid-"
"Had a son?" Seamus finished off. Harry took hold of his cup and took a sip of his pumpkin juice. The chilly and cold, sweet liquid slid down his throat, relaxing him a bit. But only barely, presented the situation.
"There's the proof, right over there," Harry said, nodding his head towards the staff table.
"How'd you meet him?"
"Remus introduced us," Harry said, "back at the house. He's part of the Order."
"You're not joking, are you, Harry?" Ron said, in disbelief.
"Is he just like Snape?" Harry heard, as he became bombarded with questions. "Is he mean and horrid and bloody annoying?"
"I don't know," Harry said, honestly. He frankly did not know what to think about Snape's little offspring. Harry was angry with him, furious beyond belief, but he couldn't tell them that. He would have to explain why he was angry with him, and then that would lead to Hermione and Voldemort. Which, just thinking about, made him clench his fists. "I really don't." There was silence, as all the boys just watched the staff table. Harry could tell, from the absentminded silence, that they were all wondering.
Finally, Ron turned back to his food, as Ron picked up his fork and shoveled some mashed potatoes. He was preparing to raise it to his mouth, but halted, suddenly. He was looking at Matthew, with an odd and dark look in his eyes.
"I don't know how I could know, or why I even think so," he said, "but Harry, that bloke's bad news. It's weird and it's strange, I know. I haven't met him and I've never known about him or knew he existed until now, but… I suggest you stay away from him, Harry." Harry nodded, also watching Matthew.
"I know, Ron," he said quietly. "I know."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooo
After lunch, everyone had rushed out, hyper excitement and anticipation buzzing amongst them in the halls and dormitories. Even in the Gryffindor's Boy's dormitories, the boys could hardly keep themselves together.
Neville was nervous, panicking about not finding his dress robes. Ron explained to him that Neville had finally had the guts to ask out Ginny again, and with a laugh, added that that was the most scared he had ever seen him. Even including the events that involved Snape and terrifying Potions lessons.
Seamus was rambling about Lavender, while Dean seemed to be on the edge of a breakdown.
Harry was surprised to see that Ron and himself were really the only ones who seemed composed enough to get any task done without yelling or shaking. Harry watched Ron, who was beaming, his blue eyes glittering with happiness and excitement.
"So, who are you taking?" Harry asked, as he tried to fish out his dress robes.
"Luna," Ron responded, wistfully. Harry smiled, happy for his friend.
"Nervous?" Harry asked, stopping for a minute to look at his friend, who was looking in the mirror. Ron was smiling wide, and Harry smiled as he saw panic and nervousness hidden in his grin.
"Terrified," he said. Harry chuckled lightly, before he turned back to digging inside his trunk. Ron turned and leaned against the table, crossing his arms against his chest.
"Need any help over there, mate?" he offered. Harry shook his head.
"No thanks, Ron. I think Neville might need some, though," Harry added, "desperately." Ron laughed, and walked towards Harry. Ron patted him on the shoulder.
"Alright then. Just yell if you need anything." Harry nodded, as Ron stalked over to the frantic boy across the room.
"I can't find it! I can't find my dress robes!" he heard Neville yell, shrilly. Harry smiled weakly, as he finally spotted the dark and soft, but strong and thick fabric of his dress robes.