A/N: Since last chapter was so heavy, I wrote this one purposely in a way that I hope is much lighter but clearly shows the pain that Harry's in. Also, I um… take a few… shots at the R/Hr ship. Most of my friends prefer R/Hr to H/Hr and, when I wrote this chapter, I was just so damned tired of hearing the same argument over and over again. I think you know which one I mean. *g* Anyway, just so there's no confusion, I'm making fun of R/Hr in this chapter, and NOT promoting it, so don't anyone panic. Oh, yeah, and it's all meant in good fun, so please no one be offended either. Special thanks to my beta Amber who got this back to me in remarkable time, considering its very long length.
Harry spent the entire weekend in bed.
He stared at the ceiling blankly when he was awake and spent most of his time dozing or sleeping heavily. He hid under his blankets, and didn't breathe so much as a word to anyone else.
Harry hadn't been aware that there was a pain like this. Everything hurt. He had trouble breathing, he had trouble thinking, and he had trouble remembering why he was at Hogwarts in the first place. The pain was consuming. He felt like someone had run a truck into him and then left him out on the hot pavement to die and be eaten by vultures.
The weekend past in a fit of uneasy dozing and periods of blankness where Harry's sole goal was to think as little as possible. Every time he did, he would see Hermione's face crumble as he broke both their hearts.
Late Sunday night, Ron hovered awkwardly over his bedside. "Harry… you haven't left this room all weekend, mate. Can't be healthy…"
Harry ignored him and hoped he'd go away. He could appreciate Ron's concern… but he was about the last person he wanted to share the news with.
Ron cleared his throat. "Did you and Hermione have… err, a fight?"
Harry curled tightly into a ball. "Go away," he said.
Ron sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "She's spent the entire weekend in the library. She comes out to eat every once and a while, but she looks terrible. All splotchy and stuff, likes she's been crying a lot."
Harry didn't want to hear about what kind of pain Hermione was in. It only made him feel worse. "Go away, Ron," he repeated.
"Why don't the two of you, I dunno, just make up or something? Probably make both of you a whole lot more bearable to live with."
Harry desperately wished that Ron could have given him this much support only two weeks earlier. Harry sat up, feeling lightheaded and looked Ron in the eye. "We broke up," he said flatly.
Ron looked startled. "You broke up?"
Harry felt a fresh wave of pain and he hugged his knees to his chest. His throat was feeling scratchy so he only nodded.
"I can't bloody believe it," Ron muttered. "She break up with you?"
Harry shook his head.
Ron's eyes got even wider. "You're mad! Why would you do a thing like that for?"
Harry squeezed his eyes shut and a let out a deep breath. "I don't want to talk about it."
"I thought that you were falling in love with her."
Harry was having trouble breathing. "Ron," he said desperately. "Please. I don't want to talk about it."
Ron stared at him, still looking rather surprised. "Okay, sure. Whatever you say."
"Ron, I need to ask you a favour."
Ron blinked at him. "Erm… okay…"
"It's… Hermione." Harry felt dizzy as he said her name. Saying it reminded him of how far away from him she was. "There's going to be… a lot of backlash. Just watch out for her, okay? I mean, she's more than capable of handling herself, but after what happened with Jane Noxon…"
"Yeah, of course." Ron thought about it for a moment before grinning. "Think she'll let me follow her into the bathroom?"
Harry doubted it and didn't, in all actuality, want to think about it. "Just make sure no one curses her with her back turned, okay?"
"Yeah, of course… I mean, I'd do that anyway."
Harry lay back down and rolled over, so he wouldn't have to look at Ron anymore. Ron would be able to see Hermione at breakfast the next morning. Ron would be able to ask her for homework. Ron wouldn't have to worry that Voldemort would try and destroy at him by destroying those he loved most…
Harry shut his eyes, trying to will his mind blank so that he could block out the pain. He felt the bed shift and knew Ron had left.
It was the worst weekend of Harry Potter's life.
***
Monday morning was the worst morning of Harry Potter's life. Harry wasn't sure if it was Ron who blabbed, but everyone knew by Monday morning that he and Hermione had split up.
Harry awoke to a vicious headache, a dry throat, and hunger pains in his stomach. He was trembling when he dressed. He didn't want to go down to the Great Hall for breakfast because he knew Hermione would be there and he wouldn't be able to sit next to her, or kiss her good-morning, or steal her coffee, or read her paper…
He went down with Seamus and Dean, his legs feeling shaky and rubbery. They kept shooting him odd glances, as if they wanted to say something but didn't really know what. When he stumbled down the last few stairs, they took a step back, looking at him like he'd become something they didn't understand.
"You all right there, Harry?" Seamus asked, sounding like he hoped Harry wouldn't answer him.
Harry clutched his books tightly and nodded, going on ahead of them
He heard Dean whispering in slight worry behind him. "A girl is having this much effect on him… a girl."
"It's so sad…" Seamus added.
"I never want a girlfriend, if this is what happens to you…"
"Harry's really quite pathetic, isn't he?"
"Never thought I'd see the day when the Boy Who Lived would get his heart ripped out by a girl…"
"Hermione no less…"
Harry stopped and turned around. "I can hear you!"
Dean and Seamus gave him patronizing looks as if dealing with a child. "Sure, Harry. Whatever you say."
Harry stared open-mouthed at them before continuing on to the Great Hall.
"See!" Dean said triumphantly from behind him. "He's cracking up…"
"Completely insane…"
"I CAN STILL HEAR YOU!" Harry hollered.
"Now he's hearing things!" Dean said frantically.
"He's too far gone!"
Harry gave up. He stomped into the Great Hall, feeling lightheaded and nervous. He stopped suddenly in the entrance, barely twitching when Seamus and Dean crashed into him.
Hermione was sitting at the far end and her eyes met his from across the room. Harry felt dizzy and only started moving again when Seamus jabbed him in the back and pushed him forward.
"Really, Harry, have you ever considered professional help?" he asked.
Harry ignored him, still staring avidly at Hermione. She looked pale and was clutching her coffee mug rather tightly. He was somewhat reassured (though also quite jealous) to see Ron at her elbow, furiously copying down what appeared to be her homework.
Harry fell into a seat next to Dean, still watching Hermione and Ron carefully. Dean followed his gaze and shook his head sadly.
"Ahhh… the day the famous trio split up…"
"It's okay, Harry," Seamus said. "You can form another trio with us. We'll let you be our leader and everything."
Harry helped himself to a rather large plate of food, eating it mechanically while he watched Hermione. "Uh huh," he said, not having heard a word.
Dean and Seamus looked at each other worriedly. "This is so pathetic," Seamus muttered.
"Really, Harry. Go on the rebound. Go nuts. Have a one-night stand with someone. I bet you loads of girls would be up for it. Then you can dump them the next day and break their hearts into a thousand shards."
"Uh huh," Harry answered again.
Harry was nearly certain that Hermione was watching him back. Of course, she was being a little bit subtler about it. She glanced in his direction every once in a while before hurriedly shifting her eyes back down to her plate, the newspaper, or Ron. Harry just stared at her openly, not quite able to help himself.
"So, a one night-stand, then," Seamus was saying. "Okay. So someone hot, preferably low on the brains."
"Long, straight hair," Dean continued. "Blue eyes?"
"Sure," Harry answered absently. "Whatever you come up with will be great."
Dean and Seamus looked at each other again.
"Hey, Harry," said Dean. "I'm thinking about walking into the Forbidden Forest without my wand. I think I'll bring Neville with me for protection… and I'm planning on yelling really loudly."
"Have fun," Harry said, a bit dazed.
"Let me handle this one," said Seamus, winking at Dean. "Harry, I was just curious… now that you and Hermione have broken up… I'm sure that you wouldn't have any problems with her going out with Ron."
Harry's head snapped around so fast that he almost broke his neck. "WHAT?"
"Well, you know," Seamus said innocently. "They've always had U.R.S.T."
"What the hell is U.R.S.T.?"
"Unresolved Sexual Tension," Dean answered.
Harry nearly fell off the bench. "They do NOT!"
Seamus nodded and looked at Dean. "Am I right?"
"You are most certainly right."
Seamus turned back to Harry, looking smug. "Arguing… one of the most telltale signs of U.R.S.T.!"
"They do not have unresolved sexual tension!" Harry cried, sounding frantic. "They don't have sexual tension at all!"
"Oh, there they go again…" Dean said, nodding in their direction.
Harry whipped back around. Sure enough, Ron and Hermione were arguing. Ron appeared to be holding one of Hermione's books in the air above her head and she was jumping wildly for it. They could hear her shrieking from all the way across the room.
"Ron Weasley, you give me that book back RIGHT NOW! Or I WILL curse you within an inch of your life! AND THEN I WILL TAKE THAT INCH!"
"U.R.S.T." Seamus said calmly, eating a sausage and watching Harry eagerly for a reaction.
"Definite U.R.S.T." Dean added.
Harry watched as Ron, who seemed to take Hermione on her word, handed her the book back. As soon as she had possession of it, she began hitting him with it. Harry winced, noting that it was a hardcover book and looked rather large.
"Yep," Seamus said proudly. "Can feel the heat coming off those two in waves."
"That's like second base for them," Dean pointed out. "You and Hermione ever get to second base?"
Harry was certainly not going to be sharing that kind of information with Seamus and Dean. He scowled.
"They're just arguing. They're angry. It doesn't mean anything!"
Seamus snorted. "Sure, Harry. As long as you believe that."
Dean peered at Ron and Hermione curiously. They were both glaring ahead of them, sniping angrily at each other every few moments. "See… the thing with arguing is… it's the only way they know how to express themselves. It's a way of covering up for their real feelings, if you know what I mean."
"THEY DON'T HAVE ANY REAL FEELINGS!"
Heads from all over the hall turned in Harry's direction. He slumped down in his seat, trying hard not to look at anybody.
It didn't matter. He and Hermione weren't together anymore. She could have U.R.S.T. with whomever she wanted to have U.R.S.T. with and he didn't have any right to get upset about it. Even if it was Ron.
Eyes sad, he tried to smile and Seamus and Dean. "So… this one night stand…" he asked casually.
They looked delighted.
"Oh, we knew you would come out of it, Harry!" Seamus cried jubilantly.
"You've learned an important lesson," Dean said with uncharacteristic seriousness. "Girls are pretty. Girls are fun to look at. Most usually a girl is fun to snog. However, having feelings for a girl…"
Seamus shuddered. "Bad idea, mate."
Harry was quite inclined to agree with them.
***
Ron sat next to him in Transfiguration. Harry was grateful. He'd been worrying that Ron would pick sides, and the natural side for him to pick would be Hermione's. Instead, Ron surprised him by dumping his stuff down next to him and saying, "I highly doubt anyone would try and curse Hermione under McGonagall's nose. Mind if I sit here?"
Harry just stared at him. "Err… yeah, sure."
"You okay, Harry?" Ron asked, a little concerned. "You're awfully pale."
Harry just nodded. "Well, you know, I haven't eaten much in the last few days."
Ron snorted. "Or at all." He studied him curiously for a moment, as if trying to decide something. "Hermione's worried about you," Ron shared quietly.
Harry felt his stomach flutter. "She is?" he whispered.
Ron nodded and scowled slightly. "Bloody annoying, really. Gets all teary-eyed and everything every time someone so much as mentions your name."
Harry smiled slightly as McGonagall came into the room. "Thanks."
Ron just shrugged and pulled out his homework. Harry stared at it stupidly, suddenly realizing that he hadn't done his. In fact, he hadn't done any homework.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he looked up, only to find Hermione staring at him from across the room. She looked startled and quickly bent down over her notes. Harry stared at her a while longer, wondering if she was having as difficult a time with their separation as he was.
He began to notice that people in the class were nudging each other and pointing in his direction. Despite McGonagall's strict classroom, he began to hear bits and pieces of conversation.
"So it is true…"
"I knew all along… quite clear when they didn't sit together at breakfast…"
"See the way he's looking at her? Broken hearted, he is…"
"Maybe they're just fighting?"
"Naw… bit over the top for a fight…"
"I was so sure it was meant to be, after reading that interview…"
Harry felt sick. He glanced at Ron. Trying to appear as if he was taking notes (he hadn't heard a word McGonagall had said), he asked, out of the corner of his mouth, "Ron, was there anything about our breakup in the Prophet?"
"Err… a little…" he said, somewhat uncomfortably. "Just a short paragraph on you two having issues. Reporter came sniffing around yesterday-I didn't tell her anything, though."
Harry nodded. "I guess it's fairly obvious, anyway."
Ron just shrugged.
McGonagall cleared her throat loudly. The class froze, staring at her guiltily. "Is there anyone in here who can tell me what happens when wizards attempt to transfigure normal items into objects of value?"
Hermione's hand shot up into the air. The rest of the class stared at McGonagall blankly.
She sighed. "Anyone besides Miss Granger?" When they continued to stare at her, she tapped her wand impatiently in her hand. "It's interesting to me that no one knows, as I've been going over that very subject for the last…" she glanced at the clock, "15 minutes."
The entire class gulped. Harry was pretty sure he knew why no one was paying attention.
McGonagall's gaze swept over the classroom, making everyone, besides Hermione, squirm uncomfortably. "You will be having a test on this tomorrow. And I will not be covering this topic again. I suggest, if you desire to pass, you will be extra nice to Miss Granger this afternoon."
People were now shooting Harry accusing looks. Harry glared at them, it wasn't like he wanted them to be discussing his personal life!
McGonagall's furious gaze landed on Neville. Neville squeaked and tried to hide under the desk, but McGonagall held him firmly in place with the slight flicker of her eyes. "Mr. Longbottom, may I ask, what is it that's so much more interesting than my class?"
Neville started sweating profusely and Harry looked at him hopefully, mentally trying to will him to lie or something. Neville opened his mouth, but only a terrified, strangled sound came out and he gave Harry a panicked look. McGonagall tapped his desk. "I don't have all day, Longbottom." Neville looked even more terrified.
The class turned suddenly when Hermione stood up. She was pale and shaking slightly, but couldn't quite seem to bear the sight of Neville looking so terrified. "Please, Professor," she whispered. "It's just that…Harry and I broke up."
McGonagall actually looked surprise. "Oh, is that what's causing such a fuss?"
Hermione nodded. "I don't think it's anyone else's business, really, but Harry does attract so much attention. And I also would appreciate it if people would stop talking about me in the halls, because I CAN hear it and it's really very annoying."
Hermione sat back down and the entire class shifted their eyes from her to Harry, holding their breath and waiting for his reaction. Harry stared straight ahead, trying to look as though he hadn't the faintest idea of what was happening.
Professor McGonagall looked at them coolly. "Personal lives are a private matter. There is no excuse for partaking in such ugly gossip of your schoolmates. Any more discussion of Mr. Potter's and Mrs. Granger's personal life will result in a detention. Do I make myself clear?"
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when the class turned their attention back to McGonagall. No one breathed so much as a word for the rest of the time.
Harry found his gaze wandering back towards Hermione. She was hunched over her desk, her brow furrowed, the top of her quill in her mouth. She was taking notes obsessively. The hollow feeling in his stomach increased. He felt himself fill with slight pride for her, impressed at the way that she'd not only handled McGonagall, but the gossip as well. She was the smartest witch he'd ever met.
Harry's head banged on his desk. He was doomed. He was so very doomed.
***
Harry left the Transfiguration classroom feeling worse than when he'd gone in. Ron had rushed off at the end to walk Hermione to her next class. Then, before Harry could escape, McGonagall gave him a long lecture on responsibilities and schoolwork and separating that from his personal life.
Harry just nodded, not really caring. He walked slowly out of the classroom and straight into the whispers in the hall. Hermione's words in class seemed only to fuel the gossip. Harry looked up in surprise when Madam Snow came rushing towards him, looking ecstatic.
"Harry Potter," she said happily, upon seeing him. "I've been hearing the most interesting rumors…"
Harry tried to brush by her, but she stayed at his elbow, a piece of parchment out and a quill hovering over it. "I'm here for the truth, Potter. You tell me what's happened and I'll write about it."
Harry sped up, Madam Snow followed.
"So," she said briskly. "Fight or breakup, what's the scoop?"
"Leave me alone," Harry whispered, hurrying to the dungeons for Potions.
The quill started scribbling. Madam Snow tried looking sympathetic. "Broke your heart, did she?"
Harry stopped. He was shaking, he was hungry, and he really wanted to go back to bed and not face the rest of the world. "It's none of your business!"
"Look," she said, "there are hundreds of rumors going around. I just want to get the real story. I want your side of the story."
"I highly doubt that," Harry muttered, trying to brush by her again.
She moved into his way. "She cheat on you? That red-haired fellow she's always hanging around with…"
Harry's eyes were stinging. "No! It was nothing like that..."
Her eyes lit up. "Then you cheated on her, but you feel terrible about it. Of course, she won't take you back because she's cold hearted and unfeeling..."
"NO!" Harry yelled again, trying in vain to get by her. "LEAVE ME ALONE! I'm going to be late!"
People in the halls weren't even pretending to be subtle anymore, at Harry's outburst they all turned and stared with wide eyes. Harry flushed, wishing that he could disappear.
Madam Snow's eyes were dancing. "So…" she said softly, "what did happen then? Exclusive interview… we can do it your way…"
Harry felt a growing sense of desperation. "Please," he was nearly begging. "Just leave me alone."
She clucked her tongue and the quill started scribbling madly again.
Harry craned his neck to see what she was writing.
He's clearly lost himself in hurt and pain. Though Harry Potter won't share what exactly happened between him and his ex-girlfriend, Hermione Granger, the truth is plain in his eyes. She has broken his heart. Terribly. And it is all he can do to struggle on…
Harry felt a terrible headache behind his eyes. "STOP!" he yelled. "IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS! LEAVE ME ALONE!"
"Now, Harry," she said softly. "That's certainly not a nice way to speak to your elders."
Harry tried to fight his way past her again, but she held an arm out, keeping him trapped. Harry's breathing increased and he was afraid that he was going to do something desperate.
There was a quiet voice from behind Madam Snow. "He said he wanted to be left alone."
Madam Snow whipped around. Her eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
"Hermione Granger."
Harry's eyes widened, feeling his chest tighten painfully. Hermione smiled reassuringly at him before turning her attention back to Madam Snow. Very calmly, she came to stand protectively in front of him.
"Ever met Rita Skeeter?" Hermione asked softly. "Funniest thing happened to her when she poked her nose into places it didn't belong…"
Madam Snow actually backed up a step, looking at Hermione uncertainly. She didn't quite know how to respond to this latest development. "Skeeter made outlandish claims and wrote stories based upon wildly fabricated lies." Madam Snow smiled sweetly. "You will find, my dear, that I pride myself on truth and integrity."
Hermione snorted. "Clearly," she said coolly. "I'm sure you're also familiar with how Skeeter was forced to stop writing her columns."
Madam Snow looked uncertain.
"No?" Hermione said, leaning forward, her eyes glinting slightly. "She wrote some outlandish claims and wildly fabricated lies about Harry. As his best friend at the time… I could hardly let her get away with it. Right, Harry?"
At the sound of his name, Harry's head snapped up. "Yeah. You, err… caught her."
Madam Snow began backing slowly away. Hermione gave her a predatory smile. "That's right," she said, as if the memory was only now just becoming clear. "I did quite a number on her, didn't I?"
"You did," Harry agreed quickly.
Hermione stalked closer to Madam Snow. "I have contacted Dumbledore," she said, the same cold note to her tone. "He doesn't like it when his students are… ambushed in the halls."
Madam Snow packed her stuff away rather quickly. "I'll just be… going now."
Hermione cocked her head. "I think that would be a very wise decision."
Madam Snow hurried off, Hermione glaring at her back.
Harry watched Hermione, his mind fiercely trying to come up with some way to thank her… without hurting both of them even more.
Before he could say anything, she turned to him, her eyes slightly moist. "You should learn to stick up for yourself, Harry," she whispered. She hugged her books to her chest, and Harry noticed that her hands were shaking. She gave him a shaky smile. "I better go… I'm really late for Potions."
Harry watched her go for a moment, blinking stupidly. Realizing that he was also late for Potions, he rushed to catch up with her. "Hermione… wait… I…"
She turned to look at him and Harry could tell that she was trying very hard not to cry. She took a deep breath. "Don't say anything, Harry," she said fiercely. "Just… don't."
Harry closed his eyes, feeling a new rush of pain sweep over him. He nodded miserably. It was probably for the best. She hurried off again and he waited a minute before following.
***
Potions was pure, unadulterated torture.
He lost 20 points from Gryffindor for being late. Ron and Hermione were sitting together, so he was forced to ask Neville for help on what he'd missed. Snape was all too happy to give him a zero for not having his homework, and his final potion came out pink and stringy when it was supposed to be red and thick.
On a normal day, Harry could have dealt with those things. However, the day was far from being normal.
About halfway through the class he found himself staring at Hermione again. He began to notice things that he hadn't picked up on before. Her eyes were red and rimmed with bags. Her face was uncharacteristically pale. She looked thin, like she wasn't eating enough.
Harry, suffering all the same symptoms himself, felt a little bit comforted by the fact that Hermione seemed to be in just as much pain. Especially seeing as how Hermione and Ron had just started bickering again.
"Mr. Potter," said Snape's sickly voice from behind him.
Harry jumped, nearly knocking his cauldron over in the process. He swallowed. "Yes, Sir?"
Snape sniffed Harry's potion delicately before surveying the ingredients he'd chopped up and put beside it. "Potter, when were you supposed to add the coiled root?"
Harry glanced at the clock and felt his stomach sink. "About five minutes ago," he whispered.
Snape smirked. "Correct. How often are you supposed to be stirring?"
Harry winced. "Every 30 seconds, Sir."
"Correct again. So tell me, Potter, why is it that you've been ignoring these steps when you clearly know them?
Harry felt his face burn. "I've been… a little distracted."
"Oh?" Snape asked, feigning surprise. "Is that what you call staring at Miss Granger?"
Malfoy snickered loudly.
Harry shut his eyes, wishing that Snape would have pity on him and leave him alone. "I wasn't staring at her," he said in a hoarse voice.
"Well, then," said Snape lightly. "We'll say you were watching her."
Malfoy snickered again.
Harry stared very hard at his cauldron, wishing that he could disappear.
Snape's mouth twisted into a feral grin. "There won't be any… watching… in my classroom, Potter. I think another 20 points from Gryffindor should make that quite clear."
The Gryffindors were furious.
"But, Sir!" they protested. "He wasn't even doing anything!"
"Silence," Snape said coldly. "Eyes on your own cauldron, Potter!"
Harry stared very hard at his potion, his throat burning. He was absolutely mortified, and he could hear whispered snatches of conversation around him. The loudest of which was coming from Malfoy, who wasn't even bothering to try and be quiet about it.
"Well, yes, of course!" he was saying to Crabbe and Goyle. "I have the hardest time looking away from Miss Granger myself… however, I guess I have enough self-control…"
Crabbe, Goyle, and several other Slytherins laughed. Snape pretended not to notice.
Pansy Parkinson joined in. "I heard she cheated on him. With Weasley."
Malfoy sounded delighted. "He was probably the only one that would take her…"
They laughed loudly again.
Harry concentrated on his potion, adding the ingredients and stirring it frantically.
"Of course," Malfoy said, "maybe the love potion wore off…"
There was more snickering.
"Potter's probably trying to figure out just what he was thinking," Pansy added cruelly.
"SHUT UP!"
The Slytherins looked up hopefully. The Gryffindors moaned, sensing that they were about to lose more points.
Ron had his wand out and his face was so red it matched the colour of his hair. "You…" he panted, staring at Malfoy. "Have… no… right…."
Hermione stood next to him, looking tearful. "Ron," she whispered. "Stop… you're only making things worse."
Harry found himself on Ron's side. If he hadn't been so afraid that Snape would expel him, he probably would have had the exact same reaction. Careful not to take his eyes of his cauldron, he silently willed his red-haired friend on.
"Weasley," Snape said silkily. "I'm afraid that, due to your outburst, it's only fair that I take another 20 points from Gryffindor."
The Gryffindors moaned again. "But, Sir!" they yelled, outraged. "Mafloy started it… he was saying all kinds of horrible things about-"
Snape flicked his eyes coldly over the classroom. "I haven't heard Malfoy breathe so much as a word since he came in. Unlike most of you, he's been working diligently on his assignment."
Malfoy smirked.
Ron was so furious that he stopped paying attention to what he was doing. He was throwing so many ingredients haphazardly into his potion that it exploded, drenching the entire room. He was covered in red potion, which smoked lightly at his robes and left an awful stench. Snape looked positively delighted when he told him his potion would be receiving a zero.
Hermione, for her part, seemed near tears. Harry kept hearing her wail directions at Ron out of the corner of her mouth, and considering Ron had already messed his potion up, it was far from doing anything to help either of them.
"But you weren't supposed to add the devil's snare and the grumpweed together!" she moaned loudly. "That's why it exploded!"
Ron scowled harder. "Yours is coming out fine, I don't see why you need to make me feel bad about mine."
Hermione let out a loud sniffle. "I'm just trying to help!"
At the sound of tears, Ron backpedaled rather quickly. "You are helping," he squeaked nervously.
Harry looked over at them, wincing when Snape caught him. "Mr. Potter," he said severely. "What did I say about your eyes?"
"They're supposed to be on my cauldron," Harry muttered angrily.
"Yes. Yes, that's right."
Harry threw some more ingredients into his potion, glaring at it when it hissed at him and bubbled angrily. When class ended, he filled a veil up with his pink liquid and nearly ran out of the room.
And so the day continued. Harry came to expect loud whispers to follow his every movement in the hall. Ron divided up his time between Harry and Hermione fairly equally, though generally walking Hermione to and from each class. Harry thought it was a mark of just how miserable Hermione was that she didn't even notice.
Harry decided that getting through each day was an act of surviving. He'd completely given up on doing homework, and soon he fell so behind in all his classes that he stopped paying any kind of attention. He stopped talking to everyone but Ron and, after being particularly grouchy with Hedwig, lost the comfort of his owl, as well.
Harry felt like the only thing that he still enjoyed and looked forward to every day was Quidditch. He drove his team hard, holding practices four times a week, no matter what the weather was. Ron had started accusing him of being just as bad as Angelina Johnson and Oliver Wood.
Some part of Harry realized that he was being slightly obsessive, but mostly he didn't care. When he was riding a broomstick nothing else mattered. The entire world fell away and all he felt was the air rushing past his face. His mind would clear, his entire being focused on finding the Snitch and winning their match. For a few blissful minutes he could put Hermione, Voldemort, and Sirius away.
Harry also knew that, besides himself, their team wasn't anything special. Ron was an okay Keeper and their three Chasers were fairly good. Their Beaters, though, were a long way off from the Weasley twins. He hoped that what his team lacked in talent they could overcome with sheer will.
So Harry concentrated on Quidditch. He slept more than he needed. He ate less than he needed. He avoided contact with Hermione at all costs, as merely seeing her was enough to send him into a near coma-like state. And he hoped, at some point, the roar of pain would eventually turn into a dull ache. And that the dull ache would be enough to function.