do you know how far this has gone?
just how damaged have i become?
when i think i can overcome
it runs even deeper
in a dream i'm a different me
with a perfect you
we fit perfectly
for once in my life i feel complete-
and i still wanna ruin it
afraid to look
as clear as day
this plan has long been underway
i hear them call
i cannot stay
the voice inviting me away
do you know how far this has gone?
just how damaged have i become?
when i think i can overcome
it runs even deeper
everything that matters is gone
all the hands of hope have withdrawn
could you try to help me hang on?
nine inch nails, even deeper
CHAPTER FIVE: The Scars of Echoes
Sometimes he dreamed of the veil, an endless curtain of velvet darkness quietly strangling him. He heard the voices too, intoxicating pleas of death and release that mingled with the voices he truly knew. His mother's cries, the whispers of his father, and the painted memory of Sirius' fall had settled into a twisted routine of tormenting him nightly. But now, now his nightmares had spilled into his conscious state, which made the daytime into a restless hell.
He was certain that Voldemort was enjoying his self-inflicted state of torture.
Everything seemed to lead back to the Dark Lord. Harry was well-aware of the fragmented presence of the main cause of his problems. It was not as strong as it had been the previous year, but the connection in his mind was still there. His awareness grew stronger as his descent into the maddening shadows grew faster.
Harry sighed, casting an unfocused gaze upon his hands. Torn between being exhausted and bitterly frustrated, he continued to wait for Professor McGonagall to come fetch him and bring him to the Headmaster's office for a meeting. Something had apparently happened, a very cross McGonagall had hinted at the prospect of the meeting being earlier. But she ended up telling him to finish unpacking and then wait for her to come and retrieve him in the Gryffindor Common Room. He knew the routine. Dumbledore was going to tell him the same thing he did every year. Then again what was one more apology?
He really wasn't much for unpacking.
He settled into a chair in the corner of the common room, ignoring as many people as possible and watching as everyone disappeared into their respective rooms. He appreciated the emptiness of the common room now. There was no one to approach him with inane questions about his summer and there were certainly no whispers of gossip, which had started in his first year and only intensified when he reached his fifth year.
The problem, however, of being left alone was that he had the time to think.
He had no desire to think about anything, but his mind had other ideas. He rubbed his eyes, staring back into the quiet fire. From the moment he, Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Order had arrived on Platform 9 3/4, everyone from Neville and his grandmother to the band of sneering third year Slytherins could feel the tension between the group. Quick and quiet goodbyes from the adults led to immediate separation between the kids. Ron had left without a backwards glance to go off with Seamus and Neville before the mandatory Prefects' meeting. Ginny followed some of her friends off to a separate compartment, recognizing the fact that it wouldn't help if she had stayed. He, on the other hand, had sent an empty glare at a lagging Hermione, who had quietly accepted his request to be alone to go sit with Hannah Abbot.
He did not miss the shadowed glance that she had sent in his direction.
Hermione, he thought with a heavy sigh. Hermione.
He had spent most of the train ride thinking about her. Perhaps he should be thankful for the distraction she provided, but the memory of the kiss that almost happened had other ideas. It had started out as a simple distraction at first. He could turn off his thoughts about Hermione easily, but then his thoughts began to linger on the several encounters they had shared in Grimmauld Place. His mind had created snapshots, from the glimmer of her eyes to the redness of her lips; he had begun to become obsessed with the mere distraction of her.
It was then when he fell deeper into a much darker and desperate reflection. Make no mistake. He undoubtedly recognized the importance of Hermione in his life. It was because of her that he survived numerous brushes with death and that he was able to rationalize his circumstances when called for. Yet here he was his mind full of thoughts that opposed the very regard he had held her in since he had first met her.
Maybe he should thank Ron for his part in his revelations after all.
He had never doubted Ron's place in his life, dwindling further as the heated tension between them grew. The scar on his wrist, still very raw and very angry, from their fight on their last day in Grimmauld Place was very much a reflection of what was happening between them. His eyes closed tiredly. The fight between them, although still a fresh memory, was not the first.
The first fight he had wanted to kill Ron.
He remembered it started with Ron's endless ranting, something he had grown accustomed to ignoring. The Weasley's had arrived earlier that day and not even a few hours in, Ron had been complaining about the emptiness that Grimmauld Place seemed to be surrounded in. How it started was an entirely different matter altogether.
Ron had thrown accusations at him before, ranging from him secretly enjoying the attention he received to not sharing his glory. But there had never been accusations about Hermione. He could ignore Ron's rants about his fame, easily recognized as a desperate cry for attention. He couldn't ignore accusations about Hermione.
He could not remember who threw the first punch.
There had been glass everywhere. He remembered Ron on the ground, his fists pounding into his ribs. He remembered staggering and then hit the other boy, breaking his nose. It took Charlie and Bill Weasley and Remus to pull them away from each other. Between the blood and the glass and the others, what he remembered most was the violence in both of them.
He could not remember what the other boy had said, but he remembered the intense need to defend his female best friend. Hell, it was like two male lions fighting to claim a female. The only difference was that Ron knew exactly where Hermione stood in his mind and he had no clue.
The fight was much more of a blur after that. He hadn't thought about much at all, until the arrival of Hermione at Grimmauld Place and the second fight he had with Ron. It dawned on him that he understood Ron's violent need to have a place with Hermione, but his own need went further than that it seemed.
It scared him.
It scared him to have a need for someone that was so severely profound. This wasn't one of those fantasies that he had created as a child laying in bed in the cupboard under the stairs. This need was very real and his feelings were very intense. The territory that he had unconsciously ventured into was serious and left him vulnerable, something he couldn't afford.
He was certainly nowhere near a place where he could begin to understand his feelings for her. Feelings that Ron accused him of having. Feelings that he was beginning to accept that he had.
The opening of the portrait entrance startled him and he shifted uncomfortably as the center of his thoughts entered the common room.
"Hey," his voice echoed through the empty room. It seemed his mind had other ideas about how to handle her invasion of his reflection time.
Hermione stopped and turned, her eyes glowing with the faint light of the fire. Why was it that she never walked away? "Hi."
It was dangerous for her to be like this, he mused. So entirely open to him and still a mystery, he was enthralled by her mere presence. It was amazing to him how somehow, in ways he could never possibly understand, Hermione managed to evoke such strong emotions in him. It was unnerving how she got under his skin. Whether it was intentionally or unintentionally, she managed bring out the best and the worst of him.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, astonished at his lack of control. He had no idea what he was apologizing for. His stomach was suddenly in knots, so much so that he could not rationalize the scenario that he had placed himself in. He wanted her to leave before he lost total control.
She said nothing in response. Her eyes watched him quietly. He watched as her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides. The silence and her lack of response were beginning to eat away at him.
"Please," she murmured finally. "Don't say anymore. I know what you're trying to do."
Whether it was his sudden nerves or her clear desire to avoid this conversation, he snapped. "I'm apologizing," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. "Isn't that what you want?"
"What I want?" She stepped closer to the chair and into his space, dropping her school bag in the process. He could clearly see that she was both tired and frustrated, but reason never registered when it came to dealing with Hermione.
His frustration won the best of him. "What's your problem?"
"My problem, Harry, is that we keep doing this!" She exclaimed. "I can't do this anymore. We keep dancing in circles. I don't want to fight with you and I don't want to be left behind every time you decide to walk away!"
"I-" He couldn't find the right words to speak. The tears in her eyes were almost too much and he found himself shaking with a desperate need to take her into his arms. The emotional roller-coaster he had placed himself on had become even more complicated.
"Please," she whispered, shaking her head. "Just don't."
Then as quickly as she appeared, Hermione was gone.
"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall's voice startled him and drew his gaze away from the spot Hermione had stood. "The Headmaster will see you now."
He nodded and turned to follow, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
His heart refused to let him ignore the ache left behind by Hermione walking away.
**
A/N: I know, I know. It's been a while and I apologize. I do however have a plethora of excuses that range from barely escaping the wrath of Hurricane Charley when I was on vacation to allergy attacks and the start of school as perfectly logical excuses. Plus this has only been edited by one of my beta readers, but I was feeling very guilty about the length of time that has passed by from the last chapter being posted. So I'll say it again. I'm sorry.
But I'm not going to apologize for the length of this chapter. This chapter is intentionally short because chapter six, still being written folks, is very long. And like this chapter, number six is intentionally long for a reason… but you'll see when it's finally posted.
One more thing before I sign off. A lot of you have asked when and if there will ever be a resolution to the outpouring of angst. The answer is… Just kidding! But I will tell you folks, the rollercoaster ride is far from over.
Thank you as always for the overwhelming reviews and even birthday wishes that were in the reviews for the last chapter. It made me a very, very happy author. So in other words, keep the ego-kissing coming. I welcome it all. *winks*
-->