Isolation

danielerin

Rating: PG
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 28/02/2005
Last Updated: 28/02/2005
Status: completed

In the fall of his sixth year, Harry has a hard time dealing with what happened at the end of his fifth year.

Chapters

1. Isolation

1. Isolation

A/N: I’ve been listening to U2 a lot lately and one of the songs on their new album just screams H/Hr to me. So I thought I’d stretch my creative juices a bit and see where it leads me. Unfortunately, it’s a tired and true theme. Harry, post-OotP, all sad and stuff. Sorry. But the song won’t leave me alone.

Thank you, Cheering Charm, for being my beautiful beta and handling my homonym problem. I’m in a twelve-step program.

__________________________________

Tough

You think you've got the stuff

You're telling me and anyone

You're hard enough

You don't have to put up a fight

You don't have to always be right

Let me take some of the punches

For you tonight

Listen to me now

I need to let you know

You don't have to go it alone

~ U2, Sometimes You Can’t Make It on Your Own

__________________________________

The rain was welcome company.

It felt good, in fact. He was drowning on dry land. Might as well get wet.

His ears were growing numb and his hands were fisting to keep the blood flowing. The chill of the November air combined with the wind and the hard rain to make him question his decision to leave his cloak behind. But it did feel good. It felt…appropriate: the pain of the cold, the freedom of numbness.

A clean slate. That’s what he needed. If only he could start over again. He would have known that it wasn’t true. That Sirius wasn’t at the Department of Mysteries. That Sirius’s life wasn’t in danger. That it wasn’t necessary to risk the lives of five of his friends to rescue a man that was safe in his home. He would have known that Hermione was right.

A saving-people-thing, indeed.

If only he could get past the knot that had taken up residence in his gut. He’d certainly felt guilty before. Why was this time so different?

You killed him.

Yes, well, there is that.

* * *

"I thought we were going to continue the DA, Harry. Dumbledore as much as ordered us to," said Dean Thomas.

Neville was looking at Harry with a furrowed brow. "Yeah. Why aren’t you organising it? I mean, I know you said it was Hermione’s idea in the first place, but you are the leader. You’re the only one who surpassed Hermione’s score on the defense O.W.L., and your experience is…well, you’re the only one that’s faced…what you’ve faced."

Harry snorted. "She’s got it under control. You lot know enough to practise anyway, and you can just work on what we learn in our lessons. No need to worry about practical work with Lupin back. He said he might even help out with the DA. He can take it over." Harry continued to pick at the food on his plate, not making eye contact with anyone in particular.

"But…," Seamus started, but Ron cut him off.

"Drop it. We have Quidditch practice. C’mon, Harry."

* * *

The rain was slowing and it made him angry.

The wind had vanished and it made him mad.

The moon was peeking out from behind the clouds and he wanted to rage at it.

He had finished his homework, so he decided to go for this walk around the lake, past curfew. He didn’t care about his homework, but it was a good distraction…from people, his friends, fun, news, memories, dreams, her. He didn’t give a toss about the rules and would have preferred it had someone challenged him walking out the front door of the castle at midnight.

Because he was coming out no matter what.

* * *

"Leave it, Hermione! I told you I wasn’t joining up this year. I don’t need the Defense Association. I don’t need Dumbledore’s Army. I am Dumbledore’s Army…me. You keep up with the meetings and you teach everyone how to defend themselves. That’s important for all of you. But not for me. I have more important things to worry about…and you CAN’T help me! So leave me the fuck alone."

He pushed his way past Ron and flew out the door of the Room of Requirement, vaguely registering the expression of concern on Hermione’s face. Everyone else at least had the good grace to be embarrassed by her trickery. They stood apart, averting their eyes, hands shoved in pockets; coughs and throat clearing and whispers could be heard from every corner of the room.

Harry still couldn’t believe he fell for it…Ron telling him that they had a Quidditch meeting in the Room of Requirement. I am such a daft prick. And he’d thought he could trust Ron. Obviously, Ron wasn’t strong enough to withstand Hermione’s persistence. But just because he caved in to her demands that they try to rope Harry into leading the DA again didn’t mean that Ron didn’t understand. Ron knew Harry needed space. He needed to be alone. He needed to get used to being alone.

He was alone.

* * *

Solitude is a beautiful thing, he thought to himself as he kicked some rocks into the lake.

It’s the only way to think straight and figure out your problems. There’s so much noise in the common room and in the dormitory. The noise in the Great Hall at meal time is deafening. The noise at Quidditch practice is distracting, and the noise anywhere in the vicinity of Hermione Granger is not only loud but irritating as hell.

She was in his head constantly and it was driving him mad. Incessant clamouring. Waffling on about homework and rules and training with Lupin and house-elves and the Ministry and the Daily Prophet and the news and…

"SHUT IT! SHUT THE FUCK UP! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The sound was echoing off the trees. Bats fluttered out of the trees in response; owls hooted. He stood panting from the effort. Everything fell silent once again as his breathing returned to normal.

Look, I’m sorry, but neither of you are making sense…

This isn’t a criticism, Harry!

Everyone thought it was a wonderful thing to do —

Sirius told you there was nothing more important than you learning to close your mind.

"ARGH!"

He began to run. Running around the lake – that’s what he should have been doing. He needed the exercise. Maybe tiring himself out would help him get to sleep easier. Maybe the nightmares would leave him alone if he was exhausted when he went to bed.

Maybe he could get her blasted voice out of his head for ten lousy minutes if he ran.

* * *

"Right. It’s just us. Everyone else has gone to breakfast. Loath as I am to skip it, we are going to straighten something out here and now." Ron had rushed Seamus out the door to their room, shut the door with emphasis, and stood blocking the exit, arms crossed, glaring at Harry. "What gives, Harry?"

"I’m not hungry. I can’t keep up with your appetite, Ron, what’s the big deal? Go on. Go to breakfast. Enjoy. Bring me some toast or something when you’re done."

"This isn’t the first meal you’ve skipped, Harry, and I don’t give a toss about that. You think you’re so subtle and I’m so thick, but it’s obvious what you’re doing."

"What are you on about, Ron?"

"You’re avoiding Hermione. Like she’s got some contagious disease or something. We’ve been back more than a month and I can count on my hand the number of times you’ve been in her presence."

"Shove off, Ron. Go eat your breakfast. I told you I’m not hungry, and that’s all there is to it." Harry rolled over in bed and pretended to go back to sleep.

"Look. I didn’t harp on you during the summer. We played Quidditch, we played chess, and we talked about absolutely nothing of importance. I didn’t get on your back about the DA. I’ve left you alone and made everyone else leave you alone all term. I know you don’t want to talk about things, Harry. I know you’re afraid she’ll make you talk about things. But this is pushing it a bit far. You skip as many meals as possible and when you are there, you do your level best to sit as far away from her as possible. You won’t sit next to her in class, even the ones I’m not in. Yeah, I have spies. You haven’t been in the library all year, and you won’t sit in the common room if there’s the slightest chance she’ll be there. When she does join us, you leave. It’s obvious to everyone, Harry."

Harry sat up in a huff. "Did she send you here, then? Are you doing her bidding once again? If you’re so good at getting people to leave me alone, Ron, then why can’t you get her to leave me alone?"

"What the bloody hell are you on about? She hasn’t had a chance to exchange two words with you since we got off the train. And even then you made sure that the compartment was full when we got back from our prefects’ meeting. Did you talk to her then? I don’t reckon you did. What is it, Harry? Why are you so angry at her?"

"She’s perpetually nagging me, Ron! I can’t believe you! You never liked it, how can you expect me to put up with it?!"

"Perpetually nagging you? Harry, you’re never even in the same room with her!"

Harry shook his head and snickered with distaste. "I can’t believe you let her put you in the middle, Ron. Thought you were smarter than that, mate. Fine. She made you talk to me, now you have. And I’ll send a message back with you, how’s that? Tell her for me, Ron, that she’s an arrogant little bint who can’t stand being wrong. Tell her that nobody likes a know-it-all, and I’m no different. Tell her that if I don’t want to spend time with her, she can’t force me to. Tell her that she can take her advice and shove it up her arse!" His face was red and his eyes were dark with anger.

Ron was gaping at him. In a quiet voice, he said, "She didn’t ask me to talk to you, Harry. Other people did. Ginny, Luna, Neville. Terry Boot and Hannah Abbott. Seamus and Dean. Lavender and Parvati, even."

"What?! What the bloody hell do they know about it? It’s none of their goddamn business!"

"What they know is that Hermione hasn’t been eating, either. Hermione spends all her time in the library or hadn’t you noticed?"

"So what’s new?"

"No, Harry. All her time. Between the library and her room. She says she needs to work hard to prepare for her N.E.W.T.s but it’s a load of bollocks. Want to know how I know that? Because every one of those people I mentioned has caught her, crying. Crying in the girls’ lavatory. Crying in a remote corner of the library. Or crying herself to sleep. She’s hurting and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why."

Harry turned away from Ron’s accusing stare. "Yeah, well, we’ve all got problems."

"Yeah, Harry, I know. I know you’ve got problems so I’ve stayed away. But what I don’t get is this. Why in Merlin’s name would you push Hermione away? The one person besides me who cares more about what happens to you than anyone else in the world. The one person you used to listen to when…."

"THAT’S WHY! Because I have to listen to her! Because she goes on and on and on about everything and I can’t fucking stand it any more!"

Ron looked confused. "Harry. She doesn’t even talk any more. She barely raises her hand in class, and that alone made McGonagall send her to the hospital wing for a checkup. I don’t understand why you think…."

"Just go away! You did your bit, now leave. I have things to deal with that you couldn’t possibly understand. I can’t be worried about Hermione’s feelings. You take care of her. She’s your problem now." He plopped back into bed with his back turned to Ron.

After a few pronounced moments of silence, he could hear the door click shut.

* * *

His lungs were burning. He was soaked to the bone and covered in mud. He dropped down to the ground, practically wheezing. He pushed his wet, limp hair out of his face.

Guilt had always been Harry’s partner. His permanent companion. It had never failed him; he wouldn’t know that he was alive if he wasn’t feeling guilty about something. And what’s wrong with a healthy dose of guilt? It kept him modest. It kept him on his toes. It made him appreciate the people around him.

The guilt began when he was a small child. He felt guilty that he hadn’t died with his parents, even when he thought it was a car accident that had taken them from him. He felt guilty that he was such a burden to his aunt and uncle. When he came to Hogwarts, he left his Dursley guilt behind and entered a whole new world of culpability and shame.

He felt guilty when his friends got hurt because of him. He felt guilty when Dumbledore had to step in and save him over and over again. He felt guilty that he had money and Ron didn’t. He felt guilty when Wormtail got away. He felt guilty for having provided Voldemort with the means to return to life. He felt guilty when Cedric died because of the stupid Triwizard Trophy. He felt guilty when Sirius was killed, Ron was attacked, Ginny’s ankle was broken, Tonks was injured, and Neville’s nose was broken. He felt guilty when Hermione was cursed by Antonin Dolohov.

He felt guilty for breaking her heart.

* * *

"So the library. Big shock to find you here, eh?"

Hermione looked up from her books, startled to see him standing there. "Harry."

"Mind if I sit down?"

"No…no, of course not. Here, let me move that parchment out of your way."

"Don’t bother. I’m not here to work. Just wanted to talk to you…you know, for a sec."

"Oh…okay. What did you want to talk about?" She was clearly nervous, biting her lip and wringing her hands.

"I, er, wanted to say hi. And, erm, see how you were doing."

Hermione looked at him as though perplexed, but relaxed her face in an obvious effort to maintain a casual air.

"Me? I’m fine. Busy, of course. There’s so much to cover before next year. How, er, how are you doing, Harry?"

"I’m all right. Keeping to myself a bit. I mean, I have a lot to deal with, you know." He looked at her and she looked at him and he could see a tear forming in the corner of her right eye.

"Don’t worry about it, Hermione. Just…don’t worry. You need to eat, and…and sleep…you look awful."

The tear rolled down her cheek.

"Look. I don’t…I don’t know how to explain to you…I just can’t be with you right now." He snorted. "You should be grateful. I’m lousy company anyway, and I’m not exactly the safest bloke to hang out with, am I?" He offered a meek smile, but saw her eyes shining and knew that more tears would follow.

"Don’t, Hermione. Don’t cry. You know how I hate that," he said, feeling his patience ebb away. "I’m fine. I can’t be around you, that’s all. It shouldn’t bother you so much." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Merlin, why do you let it get to you? It’s no big deal!"

"I’m…," she started with difficulty. "I’m sorry, Harry, I am. What…what did I…I don’t understand…what I did…." She couldn’t talk she was so choked up.

"Why do you have to make something out of nothing, Hermione?! Why do you always have to do that? All I’m asking is that you give me some bloody space! Is that too much to ask?" He stared at her, not caring that her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks were lined with tear tracks, and her face was contorted with pain.

"Yes!" she blurted out, no longer caring that she was being loud and he could see her tears. "Yes, Harry, that’s too much to ask! I thought we were friends. I thought we could get through anything together. Why are you shutting me out like this? You’re not doing it to anyone else."

"That’s not true. I haven’t been around anyone much lately. You’re the only one who takes it so personally. You’re the one who…."

"I’m the one who what? I’m the one who expects her best friend to sit with her at lunch from time to time? I’m the one who reckons she’ll partner up with the same friend she’s partnered up with for years in her lessons? I’m the one who’s used to checking your homework and talking to you about…things! Anything, Harry! You…you leave the room when I show up, you sit as far away from me as possible…clearly I’ve done something to make you angry. Why won’t you just tell me what it is?"

"I. Can’t. Be. Around. You," he said through gritted teeth, not wanting to draw Madam Pince’s attention any more than they already had. " I don’t fucking know why, I just can’t. It’s my choice. And don’t think you can make me feel guilty by not eating and crying all over the bloody castle, okay? I know what you’re up to. I came here to tell you to stop. End of conversation."

She stood as he stood and grabbed his arm to hold him there.

She spoke through her tears. "I don’t understand, Harry. But you’re right – it is your choice. There’s nothing I can do about it. But if this is the only conversation we have this year, then I want…I need to tell you something." Her voice hitched and she swiped at her tears with the back of her hand, trying to look less affected than she obviously was.

"I’ve only ever wanted to help you. I’ve only ever wanted you to be free of all of the horror in your life. I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to make you happy, Harry. I…." She swallowed and took a deep breath.

"I…I love you. You’re my best friend, and I love you." She exhaled and her shoulders sagged.

She looked at him and searched his eyes, silently pleading for a response. He had no idea what she saw in his face. He was stunned into silence. "I…I just thought you should know that." She stared at him, waiting for a response while her tears dried up.

He was quiet for several moments.

"I don’t care."

He walked out of the library without looking back.

* * *

The rain had picked up again and he lay back on the grass happy to sink into the mud.

Her voice rang in his ears.

I love you.

I don’t love her, he thought.

I could never love her. She’s the first person to say those words to me. That’s why I’m thinking about it so much. That’s the only reason.

I love my parents. I love Sirius. I love Ron.

I care about Lupin. Hagrid is important to me. I feel something more than affection for the Weasleys – all of them. I’m no longer sure how I feel about Dumbledore, but I am grateful to him. I have a few friends at school.

I suppose that’s what she is now. A friend at Hogwarts.

His rational mind laughed at him. His emotional mind was at war with itself.

The driving rain felt so good.

* * *

"Go on, Mudblood. Call for help. No one’s going to hear you," Malfoy sneered at Hermione, his wand pointed at her with one hand while his other hand gripped her wand by his side.

"I don’t need help, you ruddy coward. Only you would think it a fair fight to jump a girl coming out of the lavatory."

"I don’t give a toss about fair. You shouldn’t have insulted my father today, Mudblood. In the middle of everyone in Potions…don’t you know that Snape is a friend of my father’s? Not very smart of you, Granger. He’ll make your life a living hell."

Hermione snorted. "That’s rich. As if Snape is so easy on me as it is. Give me my wand back, ferret, before you get into real trouble."

"No, I don’t think I will. It’s high time you learned your place, you tart. You’re a filthy rotten Mudblood and you have the stones to insult a pureblood like my father?! You make me sick." He spit on her and she wiped it off her face with disgust. "I reckon no one’s going to be down this corridor for hours, Mudblood. What do you suppose you and I could get up to for hours?" Malfoy advanced on Hermione.

Harry’s blood was boiling. He had forced himself to listen to this tripe while he worked out the best way to get to Malfoy without him cursing Hermione in the meantime. Fortunately, Malfoy had turned his back to the corner where Harry stood hiding. He saw Malfoy’s hand reach out to touch her….

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

He’d hit Malfoy square in the back, lifting him from the ground and pushing him with force past Hermione, who had ducked out of the way, and into the wall – hard. Malfoy’s head hit the wall and he dropped down to the floor with a thud. He was not quite unconscious, but too woozy to focus on anything or stand up. He was groaning. Both Malfoy’s and Hermione’s wands lay at least ten feet away from them.

Harry tossed Malfoy’s wand in an empty classroom as Hermione dragged him down the corridor away from the lavatory that she had emerged from when Malfoy attacked her.

"You should have let me deal with him, Hermione. I could have made sure he didn’t wake up at all tonight."

"We’ve been over this a thousand times before, Harry. He is not worth the trouble." They had walked for a while without Harry noticing where they were going – his head was swimming with rage. She pulled him into an empty classroom and shut the door behind him. "Besides, Harry, you did deal with him. He’ll be hurting all day tomorrow, and his face will have a nice purple tinge to it in the morning. I wouldn’t be surprised if you cracked a few of his ribs while you were at it, from the sounds of it."

"No more than he deserves. Much less than he deserves, actually." His thoughts turned to her and he found himself wanting to yell at her once again. "What the bloody hell were you doing out alone in the castle at this time of night, anyway?!"

"I am a prefect, you know. I have…things to do, and no one’s going to question me. I can’t say the same for you."

Harry looked around and realised that he was alone…with Hermione…at a quarter to midnight…in an empty classroom somewhere in the castle. The uncomfortable feelings returned full force.

"I was going for a walk. You’re lucky I chose that particular path out of the castle, Hermione. I could have gone another way and Malfoy would be having…he’d be…. He could have hurt you…badly."

"Thank you. For helping me. I feel certain you didn’t want to."

"What’s that supposed to mean?!" He couldn’t believe her…questioning him after what he’d just done for her. And he couldn’t believe himself. Everything she said…everything… rubbed him the wrong way.

"Nothing. Sorry." She turned away from him for the first time and crossed her arms over her chest, as if protecting herself. She looked so small to him. He felt a renewed sense of disgust at Malfoy and what he had tried to do to her.

"Go back to the tower. Get some sleep. You still look like you need it." He turned and headed for the door.

"Dumbledore told me, Harry. He told me about the prophecy."

He stopped mid-stride, but he didn’t turn around. His eyes closed of their own volition. He hadn’t wanted this.

"He’s concerned…about your…the way you’re acting. You’re isolating yourself, that much is obvious. He felt…he thought someone…close to you…should know why."

He could feel the anger building in him. "He had no right," he said through gritted teeth. "And you of all people…."

"Yes, me. He told me. Why do you suppose that is?"

He turned to look at her and was surprised by the fight in her eyes. She held her chin in defiance, as if challenging him.

"It’s none of your bloody business. It’s none of your concern."

"Bollocks! That’s complete and utter rubbish and you know it!"

"How is it…," he started, but she cut him off.

"It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter if you don’t feel the same for me as I feel for you. It doesn’t bloody well matter if you can’t stand me any more. It doesn’t change a thing. I still…," she stopped to breathe. "I still…love you, no matter what. I still want you to survive. I still want you to be happy, even if you hate me! You can’t just…just throw away f- five years of friendship because…because you feel…," she was forcing herself to get it all out before the tears came, "feel…whatever it is you’re feeling." And the first tear fell.

"What is it with you? Do you not get it, you dosy cow?! I don’t need you. I don’t want you. I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU! I don’t want you fighting for me. It doesn’t matter. In the end, there’s nothing you can do! It’s my problem. I have to do it. I have to get rid of him. Or did you not understand what Dumbledore told you? Clever when it comes to books, thick as shit when it comes to real fucking life!"

"Right. I get it, Harry. I’m stupid and I nag and I’m pushy and I’m boring. Insult me all you want, but I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not going to stop trying to figure a way out of this until the bastard no longer exists." She wiped away a few tears. "Maybe you’re the thick one here, Harry. Just because the prophecy was about you doesn’t mean you’re alone in this. It doesn’t mean there won’t be hundreds…thousands of people helping you, Harry. It doesn’t mean that I won’t be there by your side when the time comes."

He snorted. "Excellent. It’ll be so very helpful to have to save your arse one more time. Maybe I can saddle Neville with the job of lugging you around again while he tries to keep you both alive. Incredibly helpful, that." He turned to leave again.

"Is that it, Harry? Did I disappoint you at the Department of Mysteries? Are you mad at me for failing you? Are you mad at me for getting hurt?" she said while her voice began to crack. He was sadistically satisfied to hear her falter. "’Cause you couldn’t possibly be as mad at me as I am at myself for all that."

"No? I reckon I could." He looked at her again, his eyes boring holes through hers. "You couldn’t last a minute with Voldemort. He’d crush you before you knew what was happening. You’ve no place in this fight. You’re nothing but a liability."

"No one expects you to do it alone. Why do you?"

He threw his hands up in frustration. "YOU’RE NOT LISTENING! This is about you, not me! You and your need to be in my face all the time! Your need to know you’re the smartest witch alive! What is wrong with you?!"

She looked at him for a minute, studying his face before responding. He could see that she was trying to figure it out. She had the same expression she got when working out a difficult homework problem.

"It’s not about that at all, is it? It’s not about the prophecy…not really. And you’re not disappointed in me. You’re…you’re disappointed in yourself." Her quizzical expression turned into surprise. She looked as though she’d had a revelation. Her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped.

"You’re mad at me for being right. You’re mad at me…you can’t stand to be near me, because…because Voldemort used your…hero thing against you. Because I told you he might do that and you wanted to throttle me. Because I nagged you to keep up your Occlumency. Because…oh, Harry."

She moved toward him and he backed away almost violently. She stopped and crossed her arms over her chest again. He stared at the floor and felt wetness gathering in his eyes.

"Leave me alone," he whispered.

"You’re not responsible for his death, Harry. And I can’t change what happened. Oh, Harry, how I wish I could, but I can’t. I can’t change what I said to you. I can’t change what Kreacher did. I can’t change any of it. What’s more, I’m not going to apologise for it. I did think that Voldemort was playing with your mind. I did think that he was tricking you. I also thought that Kreacher was telling the truth about Sirius being at the Ministry that night. I would never…ever presume to know how you’re feeling. But it’s not your fault. A hundred different things happened to cause all that came to pass that night. Sirius wouldn’t…."

"SHUT UP! Don’t you say his name!"

She backed away a bit. "All right. I won’t. And I won’t force you to…I won’t force you to do anything. I just want to be your friend again." She began to cry. "I want to help you…in whatever way I can. I want you to know…you’re not alone, Harry. You’re never alone."

He covered his face with one hand and angrily swiped at his tears with the back of his sleeve. When he looked up, he saw her walking out the door. She turned back to look at him.

"I’ll be in the common room studying for a while…if you want to talk." She hesitated, but then added, "I do love you. No matter what else happens…remember that." And she left.

He waited a minute or two then ran out of the classroom and out of the castle as fast as he could.

* * *

The rain felt good. It felt like life to him. Reminding him that whether he liked it or not, life goes on.

In his head, he replayed the conversation they’d had an hour and a half ago. She always could figure him out…although he supposed his cruelty had muddled her brain for the past couple of months, stopping her from figuring it out sooner.

She was right.

She was always right.

Even when she was wrong. She’d been wrong, as he and Ron had, in believing Kreacher that night. Sirius hadn’t left his house. But she was the one who said they should have treated Kreacher with more respect. If they had…

That way lies madness.

He’d spent so much of the last school year angry with her and so much of this school year hating her. How could one person do that to him. He hadn’t spent as much time obsessing over his hatred for Voldemort…or for Bellatrix Lestrange or Peter Pettigrew…as he had letting his hatred of Hermione fester.

And she loves me. Daft cow.

But he knew it was true. He didn’t doubt her for a second. She did love him. Despite everything. Maybe that’s the whole point.

He sat up as realisation dawned on him.

Yeah. That’s the whole point.

* * *

He ran through the castle again, hoping she was still there. His trainers were squelching on the floor and his clothes were sticking to him. He was surprised he hadn’t woken any of the portraits along the way.

He pushed his way through the portrait hole, ignoring the Fat Lady’s reproachful tone, and stopped when he saw her yawning and closing a book on her favourite squashy chair by the fire.

She stood up as soon as she saw him, clearly alarmed at his disheveled state. He was vaguely aware that he was panting like a wild dog.

"Harry," she started, but before she could finish her thought, he’d grabbed her up in his arms.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck and scrunched up his features, trying to hold back the tide of tears threatening to fall. He squeezed her as tightly as he could and lifted her off her feet.

Dimly, he was aware that her breathing had changed as well. She was crying, too. She was squeezing him back.

"Oh, Harry…."

"I’m sorry," he said with a muffled voice. "I’m so sorry. Please…please forgive me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Please…don’t leave me."

She backed away and grabbed his face in her hands. "Of course I won’t leave you. Wherever did you get such a ridiculous idea?!" She pulled him to her again and repeated her vow. "I love you, Harry. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you through this."

"I don’t know…I don’t know how to do it, Hermione. I…don’t know what I’m doing. I’m s-scared, Hermione. Look what happened…last year. Sirius didn’t have to die."

"Shhh…Harry. We’ll figure it out. We will. We have one very big thing on our side." He pulled back and looked at her questioningly. "We’re right, Harry. We’re doing the right thing. And we’re doing it for the right reasons. Not because of fear, or hatred…but because of love. And hope. He doesn’t stand a chance." She smiled through her tears and he smiled back, for the first time since that awful night in June feeling a small seed of hope plant itself inside him.

His smile faded as he realised all he’d said and done to her in recent months. "Hermione…all the things I’ve said…I…." She put a hand over his mouth.

"Don’t. I know who you are, Harry, even when you lose yourself sometimes." She reached up and kissed his forehead. Her lips lingered on his scar and he closed his eyes, welcoming the comfort he’d so often denied himself.

When she pulled back, he opened his eyes and noticed how very close they were. He couldn’t help himself.

He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. It was slow, tender, and chaste. When he finished, he smiled at her dreamy expression and kissed her on the forehead. She opened her eyes and smiled back at him.

"I’m…a bit…wet," he said still smiling at her.

"A bit." She was still smiling, as well.

"You’re, erm, wet now, too." She nodded slowly. "Want to dry off by the fire?" She nodded again. He took her hand and led her back to the squashy chair she was in when he’d arrived. He pulled her into his lap and they curled up together under a blanket.

As he drifted to the soundest sleep he’d had all year, Harry couldn’t help but wonder once again how he would get past it. How would he get past all the guilt? How would he get past the pain of losing Sirius? How would he get past the burden of the prophecy?

But the warmth he felt pressed against him…the arms that were tucked up in his chest, holding his shirt…the face that was resting on his chest…the legs that were tangled with his…the heart that was beating so close to his…they served to remind him how.

With a whole lot of help.

_____________________________

We fight all the time

You and I

That’s all right

We’re the same soul

~ U2, Sometimes You Can’t Make It on Your Own