Chapter 5: Territorial Pissing Pt. 2
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12:05 PM
Ron rubbed his still sore arm in the exact spot where Harry had hit him for breaking his promise of not laughing at the peculiar situation. The truth was that Ron hadn't realized that what he found amusing and fortunate, Harry found it to be something absolutely, positively disastrous.
So, he had tried to calm Harry by telling him he was going to help him find an antidote to the potion. But, to be honest, Ron didn't believe what Harry was feeling was entirely due to the little misadventure in Snape's class.
"You have to eat something. You didn't have anything for breakfast," Ron said to Harry as he dragged the other guy toward the Great Hall, the morning classes already behind them.
"I'm not hungry," Harry said absently. Ron's stomach was growling; after all, his breakfast that morning hadn't constituted half of his usual breakfast.
But Harry… Harry looked worthy of pity, his expression as cheerful as one of a person who had just been informed that his puppy had been run over by a car.
Harry had hardly spoken during their classes. Since Roger had developed the annoying habit of waiting for Hermione after every class and walking her toward the next, Ron had the opportunity to ask Harry what was wrong with him when they left the History of Magic classroom.
"You know what's wrong," Harry had whispered in response to Ron's incessant badgering. Harry had looked up from the floor and sighed, his face darkening slightly. Ron looked at what Harry was looking to find Hermione and Roger 20-feet in front from them. Hermione was talking animatedly to Roger about the lesson and Roger pretended to listen as he tightened his hold on Hermione's waist.
"Oh, that… I forgot," Ron said quickly, lowering his gaze. Ron had trouble conceiving that something he had waited to happen for at least three years was turning into such a disaster.
"Um… Harry… maybe… maybe you should try avoiding her… you know? Until we can find an antidote… but don't be too obvious or you are going to make her feel bad," Ron counseled.
"Try avoiding her? She's doing a pretty good job avoiding us," Harry mumbled. Ron made a face; he wasn't used to Harry's voice sounding so bitter.
"She's not doing it on purpose, Harry… is just that damn Roger. No wonder he never lasts long with his girlfriends… he suffocates them," Ron said, jumping to the defense of his other best friend.
"You know what?" Harry said, more energetic that he had sounded before. Ron looked up at him; Harry was not looking better, but at least he looked as if he decided to focus his bitterness in something (or someone) else.
"I think Roger knows… I think he knows exactly how I feel for Hermione and he's rubbing in my face the fact that he's with her," Harry said between clenched teeth.
Ron was surprised, but not because of the reasons Harry thought. Could it be that Harry didn't realized what he had just said? "Err… mate?" Ron asked tentatively. Harry stopped walking and Ron followed suit. They had stopped near the entrance of the castle, just in front of the great hall.
Harry had followed with his gaze the happy couple in front of him, as Roger had led Hermione out of the castle and were now walking on the grounds toward the lake.
"Harry!" Ron pressed. This time, he got his friend's attention.
"What?" Harry finally replied without much enthusiasm.
"You said Roger knew exactly how YOU feel for Hermione… YOU!" Ron said very softly.
Harry realized his mistake immediately.
"I meant, the potion. What the potion makes me think I feel for Hermione," Harry said, faster than a speeding bullet. Before Ron could ask anything else, a delicate hand was intertwining his fingers with hers.
"Hey, Luna," Ron said with a smile, momentarily forgetting about Harry, Hermione and the whole potion business as he looked at the beautiful girl standing next to him. She had grown in the last two years until she was no longer the skinny little girl, but a full-bodied and beautiful woman with long blonde hair and the most amazing blue eyes Ron had ever seen.
"Hello, Ronald," Luna said with a dreamy smile as Ron leaned in and kissed her cheek. Harry sighed, looking the other way; the last thing he needed was another pair of lovebirds rubbing their happiness in his face.
"Hello, Harry. How are you feeling?" Luna asked, turning her attention toward Harry. He was always slightly surprised about how dreamy her eyes appeared even in the most ordinary of surroundings.
"I'm… okay," Harry forced a smile.
"Hon, what's for lunch?" Ron asked Luna. He needed food and he needed it fast.
"I don't know. I'm waiting for you to go in. Remember? We were going to have lunch together," Luna answered.
"Oh, right," Ron looked at Harry apologetically, adding, "Harry, you want to join us?"
Ron looked downright livid; he hadn't expected to leave Harry alone in the condition he was in.
"Don't worry about it, Ron. I'm not that hungry. I think I'll go and start my Potion's essay," Harry said quickly. He knew Ron didn't want to leave him by himself, but he also knew the last thing he needed right now was to see his best friend and his girlfriend acting all lovey-dovey in front of him.
"I'll see you later," Harry said quickly and before either Luna or Ron could tell him it was okay for him to join them, he sprinted down the hall with no destination in mind other than to get away from it all.
He walked and walked until his feet started hurting, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time. When he looked up, he found himself a few meters away from the entrance to the Astronomy Tower, being yelled at by a frustrated painting of Sir Cadogan challenging him to a duel.
"Not now," Harry said absently as he started going up the stairs. It seemed like he couldn't get away far enough from all of them. By the time he reached the top of the tower, he was gasping for air, and his body ached from the exertion and the lack of food.
But he felt almost happy and carefree when he felt the wind blowing on him. It was so refreshing he couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as he closed his eyes and allowed the wind to caress him. He spread his arms to the side as if he were a bird, his cloak billowing behind him loudly. He tried to imagine what it would feel like to fly away at that moment.
When he opened his eyes again, he was slightly saddened to find he was still at Hogwarts, his arms spread to the side as if he were a little kid pretending to be Superman. He lowered his arms and walked toward the edge. Making sure no one was watching from the grounds, he did what he had wanted to do since the very first time he stepped into the Astronomy Tower…he pushed himself off the railing and sat on the ledge, looking down.
Ginny was right; Hogwarts was indeed beautiful this time of year. Autumn was already in full steam; the leaves in the trees were dressed in orange and brown, and the air smelled of pumpkin and change. It would have been very relaxing scenery if Harry wouldn't have had other things in his mind.
Harry found Hermione on the grounds automatically. She was sitting next to Roger under the shade of a tree. Harry may not have had a great sense of direction for things other than Quidditch, but he knew that tree was THEIR tree, the one under which Ron, Hermione and himself had spent countless of hours during their time at Hogwarts.
He knew it was wrong to feel like this, but even then, he couldn't help but hate Roger at that moment. Roger was an intruder in their world, and he was slowly, but surely, taking Hermione away from them.
'Wait… why am thinking this way? It's not like she's going to desert us! We will always be together. Won't we? Besides, I didn't have a problem when Ron started dating Luna… I never thought Luna was going to take him away from us. I didn't followed him around and spied on him… I never wanted to punch Luna's lights out…'
Just then he remembered what was different this time as he felt a surge of anguish while watching Roger wipe something from Hermione's cheek.
'Damn it, Harry! Hermione was right. When you are not looking for trouble, trouble comes to you. Why did you have to complicate things with that damn potion? As if you didn't have enough problems already, you had to go and do something that may endanger the best thing you'd ever had.'
He looked down at the tree. Hermione seemed to be listening to Roger as she bit on a red apple, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the tree trunk.
The last time Harry had been under that tree, he was the one that had been leaning against the tree trunk, his left arm over Hermione's shoulders. Hermione had been resting her head on his shoulder as they laughed at Ron spin the tale of his last potion's lessons to Luna.
Hardly a week had passed, and yet to Harry it felt like a lifetime.
'You have to stay away from her, mate. You can't risk hurting her… you know you have quite a temper. Remember during your fifth year? When Hermione tried to stop you again and again from going to the Department of Mysteries and you, again and again, snapped at her, pushing all your anger and frustration at one of the few people that was actually on your side? If only you would have listened to her, Sirius would still be alive...'
His chest tightened so hard he was momentarily breathless. Why had he thought of Sirius now? He had spent the entire summer after his fifth year blaming himself for the death of his godfather, and it had been one of the darkest times of his young life. How couldn't it be? After all, his godfather had given up his own life for Harry's.
But if there was something that pulled him out of that depression and heartbreak was the fact that Hermione and Ron were always there for him. Hermione was the only one he could talk to about Sirius that listened to him as he cursed and screamed and cried in the name of his dear friend. Their friendship, instead of being destroyed, prevailed and grew stronger than he had ever imagined possible.
And now… now he felt physically ill just thinking that he might do something that will put that friendship in danger… and that could result in losing his best friend… forever.
So, when the time came to leave the tower for the next lesson of the day, Harry had only one course of action in mind.
Find the antidote as soon as possible and stay away from Hermione until then. T
That seemed like the only plan that will leave his sanity intact.
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Later…
Transfiguration Lesson
"Mr. Weasley, could you be quiet? I'm trying to teach a lesson here," Prof. Minerva McGonagall said, her thin lips pursed as she glared down at Ron.
"Sorry, Professor," Ron said apologetically. Ron had been trying for the last part of the hour to get Harry to talk to him, but Harry just sat in the stool and looked down at the desk, his eyes filled with sadness.
No sooner had McGonagall turned around that Ron whispered to Harry, "See, now you've got me in trouble!"
"It's not my fault you don't shut up! I told you, I'm fine! Leave me alone, please!" Harry whispered back, impatient.
The fact that he had hardly slept the night before and that he hadn't had any food since he ate half a slice of toast this morning seemed to have caught up to Harry. He felt exhausted, even downright dizzy.
Hermione had been looking at him worriedly throughout the lesson, but he had avoided meeting her gaze. When Hermione gave Ron a questioning look, Ron just shrugged and shook his head.
He had one suspicion about what was wrong with Harry and, if he shared it with Hermione, he was sure Harry would kill him.
Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose sleepily, closing his eyes. He was so tired, and his head ached so much that he didn't even heard McGonagall's voice as she went on explaining about the effects of transfiguring a living creature with highly cognitive abilities.
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Everything became dark, until a faint gray fog rose around him. It seemed to swirling around slowly, but after a few moments Harry noticed that it was slowly gaining speed.
He was now shivering from the cold. He hugged himself protectively, looking for a way out.
But there was none… the swirling mist surrounded him completely, as if a wall had just been erected around him. And now, the wind was so strong Harry could hardly keep his eyes open, and the cold was so biting he felt as if tiny nails were being pushed all over his skin.
He felt something touch his leg… and then his arm… his chest… his cheek. It felt as cold as ice and as sharp as cut glass. He forced himself to open his eyes and gasped at the sight around him.
There were hands, ghastly and horrifying, appearing in the mist, trying to grab him.
Instinctively, Harry took a few steps back, but stopped when he felt one of those hands wrapped itself around his neck. It tightened… until Harry's lungs burned from lack of oxygen and his vision darkened.
And then, Harry heard it… dozens of voices… cold, slithery and in perfect unison… The mysterious choir was coming from the mist that surrounded him.
And finally, he realized what the voices were telling him.
"Your time is up".
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"HARRY! HARRY! HARRY!"
Harry touched his forehead and winced. A sharp pain was growing at the back of his head, and someone seemed to be screaming at him.
He opened his eyes, and the light blinded him temporarily. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness, Harry realized the concerned faces of Ron, Hermione and McGonagall hovering over him surrounded him.
"What… what's wrong? What happened?" Harry said groggily. He was surprised when he realized he was lying on the floor, a few feet away from his desk.
"You… you started screaming! And… the stool toppled… and well, you fell! Are you okay, mate?" Ron asked, his red freckles even more noticeable on his now pale face.
"What happened, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked worriedly as Ron, Hermione and Dean helped Harry to stand up.
Harry raked his exhausted brain. What the hell had happened? Well, he knew he had fallen asleep… so that must have been a nightmare. What had he dreamt about? He could hardly remember as he tried to make sense of disrupted images that were rapidly dissolving in his brain.
But the cold… he could remember a cold so biting it chilled his very bones. He felt a shot of sudden warmth in his arm, and he looked to his right to find Hermione was still grabbing him by the arm, her brown eyes wide with unconcealed worry.
"I… I fell asleep, Professor. I apologize. May I be excused?" Harry said with great speed. He had to get out of there; the last thing he needed was the person that he was supposed to stay away from taking care of him as if he was a little boy.
He looked around the classroom; those closest to him looked scared. Harry didn't have to be a certified genius to know why… the last outburst of this type Harry had experienced was when Voldemort was using him like a puppet to get to the Prophecy.
"Certainly, Mr. Potter. I know you've had a rough night. But I have to ask you to go to Madam Pomfrey before you go to your room. I want to make sure you are in good health," Prof. McGonagall instructed as she watched Harry wince when Hermione gently touched the back of his head.
With a last glance at Hermione, Harry gathered his books and left the classroom in a hurry, leaving a very worried Hermione and Ron back, wondering what the hell had just happened to their best friend.
As tempting as it was to go straight into the library to start his search for the antidote, Harry decided to be true to his word and visit Madam Pomfrey.
A few minutes later, Harry found himself back at the infirmary under the watchful eye of Madam Pomfrey. The older woman had a mix of fury and motherly concern on her face as she checked the back of Harry's head.
"Mr. Potter, you have to be more careful! You are even more prone to injury than Mr. Longbottom!" Madam Pomfrey said as she handed him a small bottle filled with what seemed to be a white and thick liquid.
"Now, take this tonight before you go to bed. It will help you have a relaxing night without dreams," she instructed him as she pointed at the bottle.
"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said politely, thankful that Madam Pomfrey was a nurse and not a psychiatrist, for if she had been one, Harry was sure he would be in his way to the loony bin right now.
He walked briskly toward the Gryffindor common room, ignoring the growing stabs of pain in the back of his head and trying to concentrate on having a shower and a quick bite before going to the library to start his search. But his thoughts quickly diverted from their goal when he saw Hermione at the other end of the hall, running towards him.
"Are you alright? What happened back there?" Hermione quickly whispered, her lovely chocolate eyes anxious and full of tenderness.
"I am fine, Hermione. It's just a bump," Harry said slowly, feeling as his earlier resolution dissolved as he felt her lean her weight against his body as she checked him for any sign of injury.
When she was satisfied he had none, she took a step back and looked him straight in the eyes. "Harry, what's going on?" Hermione asked softly.
"I told you. I fell asleep, had a nightmare, the stool was wobbly, so I fell and bumped my head. That is all," Harry said, as casually as possible under the circumstances. He couldn't let her know that the proximity to her was making the hairs in the back of his neck rise.
Harry continued walking toward his original goal in hopes of getting away from her. But it was useless, for now Hermione was walking by his side.
"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about how crazy you've been acting since last night," Hermione said matter-of-factly, her eyes trying to penetrate the mask that was Harry's expression.
'She doesn't know. Does she?'
"I don't know what you are talking about, Hermione," Harry said quickly, hoping Hermione couldn't notice the blush that crept on his cheeks.
"Don't you lie to me, Harry. I KNOW YOU! I know there's something wrong with you… and, you are shutting me out! I am your friend, Harry. I want to help you. Let me help you!" Hermione said, straining to match Harry's long strides.
"Hermione, I don't need your help. Everything is fine," Harry said, his voice sounding a bit harsher than he had intended.
He was surprised when he felt her hand on his arm pulling him to a stop and forcing him to turn around and look at her.
"Then why have you spent half of the day avoiding me?" Hermione said. Harry had no other choice but to lose himself in those eyes, and was surprised to find not only worry, but anger and hurt in those eyes.
That wasn't his intention. In fact, his only intention was to stay away from her so as not to hurt her.
"You are imagining things," Harry retorted abruptly. As much as he didn't want to hurt her, the more time he spent with her, the worst it was going to get. He had to get away and he had to get away now.
Hermione was hurt by the tone of his voice, but at the next moment the anger returned full blast. "Imagining things! How can you say that with a straight face? You've been ignoring me all day! I'm worried for you and that's what I get in return. A BLOODY COLD SHOULDER!" Hermione snapped.
Now, it was Harry's turn to be taken back. She had never raise her voice at him in anger before.
'Wait… she's the one that's been giving me a cold shoulder. At breakfast, at lunch… during classes… she's the one that has been running off to with that slobbering little git! Not me!'
'Harry, calm down before you screw up royally.'
'Calm down? CALM DOWN?"
'Oh, f-ck it. You're screwed.'
And once more, Harry's infamous short temper decided to make an appearance.
"I've been ignoring you? Well, I'm surprised you've noticed, seeing how busy you've been with Roger all day! You've probably swap so much spit with the idiot that it has affected your higher brain functions! So don't tell me that I've been ignoring you when you are the one who's been giving us a cold shoulder!" he screamed at her, his mouth contorting on a sneer worthy of Malfoy himself.
Hermione's face was so red she could have been an honorary Weasley.
"Swapping spit, eh? Is that what this is about? About Roger and me? Well, let me tell you that if you two bothered to get to know him, maybe you wouldn't dislike him so much. And know this Harry… I won't let you two interfere with my love life, or lack thereof. You two have NEVER cared it and you WON'T start now!" Hermione said, her voice low and uncharacteristically threatening, crossing her arms over her chest, her nails digging into her flesh.
Last time he had seen Hermione so angry was when she discovered his bleeding hands after one of his detentions with Umbridge during Fifth Year.
Harry finally realized what a mistake it had been to open his big mouth, and the anger he had felt at Hermione a few seconds ago was now fully directed at him.
'Real bright of you, Potter. Put this on the list of your shining moments.'
"I'm sorry, Hermione. Please forgive me… I'm just… tired… hurting…hungry… and a little dazed. I didn't mean what I just said," Harry whispered softly.
The expression of Hermione's face softened considerably, and he watched as the anger disappeared from her eyes. Finally, she exhaled loudly and said, "I forgive you, Harry. But…I really want you to tell me what's wrong. I want to help you!"
Harry bit his tongue before he let something he will regret slip out of his mouth. He knew his silence was bound to hurt Hermione, and yet… what could he tell her? That she was the reason for his temporary insanity? That he had drank a potion that had made him fall hopelessly in love with her?
Harry could think of a thousand reasons why, for the first time, he could not tell Hermione about his problems.
When the silence grew heavy and uncomfortable, Hermione released a tremulous sigh. She knew the expression on Harry's face, and she realized he was not ready to speak about whatever it was that was bothering him.
"Fine. You don't want to talk about it now, that's fine. But remember," Hermione said, standing closer to Harry than before and putting her hand on his shoulder. She couldn't help but notice the intense helplessness in his eyes.
"When you are ready to talk about whatever is bothering you, I'll be here to listen," Hermione finished. She rose on tiptoe and planted a gentle kiss in Harry's cheek, not unlike the one she had given him at the end of their fourth year.
Without another word, Hermione turned around and walked away, leaving a very mortified Harry behind.
After he trusted his legs to obey him, Harry walked straight into the Gryffindor common room, his desire to go to the library and work completely squashed by the ghost of her lips in his cheek.
When he reached his dormitory, he carefully placed the bottle of sleeping fluid Madam Pomfrey had given him on his night table and fell into bed, still with his uniform and shoes on.
Praying for sleep to find him, it was Ron who found Harry first. "Hey, mate. What happened?" Ron asked worriedly as he threw his books on the bed and started taking off his shirt.
"Nothing," Harry mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes.
"Don't give me that. There's something wrong with you… aside from the obvious, that is," Ron said, changing into a t-shirt before going to the Great Hall for dinner.
"Not you too," Harry grumbled against the pillow, turning his head to the other side and praying Ron would get the message and leave him alone.
"Who else has been asking?" Ron asked casually, suspecting that he already knew the answer.
"You know who…" Harry answered.
"Really? When did you speak to her? I know she left Transfiguration in a hurry, but she didn't told me where she was going," Ron continued prodding. Harry sighed; he wasn't going to get any rest until Ron's curiosity was satisfied.
So Harry sat on the bed and proceeded to tell Ron all about his latest conversation with Hermione. When he had finished, Harry noticed Ron's ears were slightly more pink than usual.
"What?" Harry asked, sensing Ron had something on his mind and was holding back.
"She was right, you know. You've been ignoring her all day," Ron said matter-of-factly.
"I haven't ignored her! How can I ignore her when she's the only thing I think about? But I can't be near her… you know it would only make things worst! So don't try to make me feel guilty about it, okay?" Harry said, hoping for a little support from the only person who knew of Harry's predicament.
He found none.
"And what you said about her and Roger swapping spit… that was really mean! I'm surprised that Hermione, with that temper of hers, didn't shove her wand up your ars…" Ron continued.
"I KNOW! I FEEL BAD ENOUGH ALREADY! SO QUIT IT!" Harry snapped. He seemed to be doing that a lot… is that what grownups were supposed to do?
Harry closed his eyes and sighed. He suddenly felt extra weight on his bed and opened his eyes. Ron had sat on the edge of the bed next to him, and was now looking out the window, his arms crossed over his chest in a pose that reminded Harry of Ron's father, Arthur.
"You know what?" Ron spoke out of nowhere.
"What?" Harry replied tiredly, resting his head on his hands. He had such a headache he felt as if at any moment, his head was going to explode. But nothing in the world was going to prepare him for Ron's next words.
"You remind me of a dog."
"A DOG? What is this? The International "Let's offend Harry Potter" Day!" Harry said as he sat up in bed, startled by the undignified comparison.
"Calm down, mate. It's not an insult. It is merely an observation. You know how dogs get when there's another dog sniffing around their territory, don't you?" Ron asked Harry.
Harry's experiences with dogs were limited to having to clean dog poo from the bottom of Dudley's shoes when Aunt Petunia had ordered him to. "I'm not following you," Harry mumbled tiredly.
"They raise their hind leg and they start pissing, Harry. Yeah, they piss around everything they consider theirs so other dogs won't dare to break into their territory. Yeah… they piss on the lawn, on their owners clothing, on the carpet, on the…" Ron continued before Harry could interrupt him.
"What's the point of this lovely metaphor, Ron?" Harry said bitterly, ignoring the desire to hit Ron for the second time that day.
"The point is," Ron got up from Harry's bed and started walking out the dormitory, "that you need to stop being a dog around Hermione, cause you are hurting her. She's not your territory, Harry. And if you truly care for her, remember you are human. You have the choice to talk to her and tell her how you feel… instead of pissing on her leg."
Standing on the doorframe, Ron said without looking back at Harry, "I'm going to meet Luna for dinner. If you want, we can work on the antidote when I'm back." And, without giving Harry the opportunity to make up any excuses, Ron left.
Harry was left alone with his thoughts, his guilt, and most of all, with one horrible headache.
'You really outdid yourself this time, Potter.'
Slowly, sleep overcame him, bringing with it images of a certain brown-haired Gryffindor witch being chased down the hallways by a giant black haired dog with green eyes.
And a strange scar on his forehead.
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Hi everyone! Hope you enjoyed this new chapter. Please R/R
For those who are interested, I've started an AU story called The Accursed. You can find it by clicking here.
Good night and good life,
Anasazi