A/N: I know, I'm taking far too long between updates. I'm sorry. I wish I could say they're going to go faster, but I'm worried HBP might have an impact on the future of this story. Whatever happens, there will be at least one more chapter, and, if nothing else, I'll try and wrap up their summer satisfactorily. Thanks for everyone's constant support and reviews. I know I'm a terrible responder, but I appreciate every one of you.
Buffy: If you don't tell us what we need to know, then I'm gonna offer you to The First on a platter and let him chop you into tiny pieces.
Andrew: The first what?
Anya: The name of the evil thing that pretended to be Warren to get you to kill Jonathan.
Andrew: Oh, not very ominous sounding.
Dawn: It is if you understand the context.
Andrew: No, an evil name should be like Lex or Voldemort or -
-Buffy (duh), from 'Bring on the Night'
Chapter Four
"Harry, I'd like to speak with you, please."
There was a knock that accompanied Lupin's voice, and Harry looked up from the essay he was doing. He couldn't believe he was doing homework as a means to distract himself. Yet the focus required for one of Snape's essays prevented him from dwelling too much on what had happened at the hospital.
"Come on, Harry. You know I can break in."
Harry sighed and unlatched the door. He took a step back, folding his arms across his chest. "Come in."
The door flung open and Lupin rushed inside, a harried look on his face. "Blimey, Harry, what's going on?"
Harry shrugged. "Nothing. Why?"
Lupin narrowed his eyes. "You've hardly said two words since you returned from St. Mungo's."
"So?"
"So…" Lupin said, raising his eyebrows. "I may be getting on in years, Harry, but I'd hardly call myself stupid."
Harry flushed. "It's private, alright?"
Lupin considered him for a moment. "Give her time, Harry."
"I don't want to talk about this."
Lupin sighed and paced the room, looking uncomfortable. "I rather think you should."
"I rather think I should be left alone."
"Look," Lupin said, irritation creeping its way into his voice. "I know you're not as close to me as you were to Sirius, but you need some kind of guidance in this, Harry. I know Ron's your best mate and you wouldn't trade him for the world, but it must be difficult to talk about this with him."
"Talk about what with him?" Harry demanded.
"Love. Hermione. Your relationship." Lupin sighed. "It's hard sometimes, watching the two of you. You're so young. You have so many years ahead of you. There could be an infinite number of people that could pass through your lives. And then… then I remember that your parents fell in love when they were only your age."
Harry swallowed, the mention of his parents affecting him like it always did. He found that the glimpses he received into his parents' pasts were blessings tempered with difficulties. The more he knew, the more he wanted to know. But his picture of his parents had been destroyed and rebuilt thousands of times over his last six years at Hogwarts. It was with a bittersweet acceptance that he realized he'd never truly be able to understand the people they had been.
"Did my father talk to you about… you know…"
"Lily?" Lupin asked. "Somewhat. Bit embarrassing for him, really."
"Yeah," Harry said. "But I guess something between them must have stuck, eh?"
"I'd say so," Lupin said, smiling. "Can't say it was love at first sight. Well-maybe on James's part. Lily was smart, beautiful, powerful… we all envied him a bit. We envied both of them. Love isn't something you find every day."
Harry thought of the way Hermione had looked at him at the hospital. It had been as if she'd pulled shutters over her eyes in her attempt to block him out. Whatever she'd been feeling, she hadn't wanted him to know.
Lupin sighed. "Can I sit down?"
"I s'pose."
Lupin took a seat on the edge of Harry's bed, seeming to slump on his forearms. The frailness of Lupin's clothing was more apparent than ever.
How does this man do it? Harry wondered, staring at him. He's lost all three of his best friends-the only family he's ever had, and, on top of that, he's a werewolf, shunned to the side by the rest of the wizarding world.
"What happened?" Lupin asked again.
Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. "She… wasn't happy to see me."
"Oh?"
"Said I was only thinking of myself… that I wanted her to tell me it wasn't my fault." Harry shook his head. "That's rubbish. I just wanted-I wanted to be there for her."
Like she's always been there for me, he added silently.
"She told me I was only making things worse for her." Harry paused. "She chose it, though. Hogwarts. She's… she's willing to separate herself from her parents."
"How do you feel about that?"
"I don't know!" Harry said, growing more agitated. "They're her parents. How can she-just-just-leave them behind?"
"Maybe they're not worth her giving up her life."
"Maybe," Harry repeated, in a hollow voice. "I'd be lying if I said it doesn't make me happy. I can't imagine what I'd have done if she'd gone with them."
Lupin nodded. "It's a hard situation."
"Dunno why you'd envy being in love," Harry muttered. "Seems like it causes all kinds of difficulties."
"That might be true," Lupin said, standing up. "But you've got to believe that in the end, it's worth it."
A biting retort was on the tip of Harry's tongue, but something stopped him from saying it aloud. Feeling defeated, he turned his gaze to the floor, feeling a lump rise in his throat.
"What d'you think I should do?" he finally asked.
Lupin looked hesitant. "Harry, I don't-"
"Please," Harry said, looking up. "Just… something. She said… well, she said she wanted… erm… space."
"Space?"
"Yeah," Harry said, shifting. "I don't really know… I don't know what she meant by that."
Lupin looked thoughtful. "Hermione's always been rather literal minded, Harry, hasn't she?"
"I s'pose…"
"Give it to her, then. Give her… time. Let her come to you. Maybe that's the best way you can help her."
Harry brooded over that for a moment. "What if she doesn't? What if she… what if she decides that's what she wants? More space?"
"Then…" Lupin sighed. "Then there's nothing you can do about it."
***
Nothing I can do about it.
Harry hadn't said anything at the time, but he thought Lupin was asking the impossible of him. A direct challenge. Nothing you can do about it.
It unnerved him, because Harry had always prided himself on being able to do what he could not. The more opposition he encountered, the harder he pushed-right from that moment he'd prevented Voldemort from getting the Sorcerer's Stone when he'd been eleven.
Nothing I can do about it.
Nothing I can do.
About it.
Nothing.
Harry repeated the words in his mind all through dinner.
It was absurd. It was ridiculous.
He couldn't just let Hermione walk away from him. He couldn't do nothing.
"Okay, mate?" Ron asked, kicking his shin under the table in what was probably supposed to be a friendly gesture.
Harry winced. "Er… yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
It was only then that he noticed the rest of the table staring at him.
"What?"
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged a look.
"Well," Mr. Weasley said carefully. "I've been discussing some… things… with Dumbledore recently and we think that, perhaps, it would be… a good idea for you to join in on our next Order meeting."
Mrs. Weasley sniffed.
"Some of us think so," Mr. Weasley amended hurriedly, giving a tight smile. "What do you think?"
"Er…" Harry said, still feeling distracted. "Sure."
Ron threw down his utensils. "What? What d'you mean, 'sure?'"
Harry stared. "Okay? Alright? That sounds fine?"
"Harry, the thing is…" Ginny gave her brother a reproachful look. "Ron won't… I mean, Ron wasn't… you were the only one invited."
"Oh," Harry said. Then, with more realization. "Oh."
"Bloody hell, Harry! We've been discussing that for the last ten minutes! Where the sodding hell have you been?"
"Nothing!" Harry blurted. "Er… I mean… I was… it's nothing."
Ron frowned. "Harry, what's-"
Ron's words were interrupted by a large crash from the living room.
"Oh, heavens!" Mrs. Weasley said standing up. "That must be-"
"Hermione," Harry finished dully, stabbing at his meat.
Ginny and Ron exchanged a look before jumping to their feet. They followed Mrs. and Mr. Weasley into the living room. Harry hung back, wondering what he was supposed to do now. What kind of space did Hermione want from him? Should he say hello? Just hello? Treat her as he would his best friend?
Lupin cleared his throat and Harry glanced at him, startled.
"Harry, I'm certain she won't fault you for making sure she's arrived here safely."
Harry nodded, padding his way into the living room. Right away he could tell that Hermione's arrival had brought with it a scene of confusion.
"Oh, dear, you must be starving! Let's sit you down in the kitchen… get some food into you…"
"No, that's alright, Mrs. Weasley, I'm not that hungry, I-"
"How is St. Mungo's nowadays, Hermione? I know they've done some repairs since I stayed there two years ago. Bit of a strain on the Ministry's budget, really… but worthwhile. What do you think?"
"They… things looked… they were nice, Mr. Weasley, but I'm-"
"Oh, Hermione! We all heard about what happened! It's so awful! I can't believe-what they made you choose! You must be feeling… oh, I can't even imagine!"
"It's… I'm alright, Ginny, really… but I'd really like to-"
"Er… would you like a cup of tea?"
"Oh, for Merlin's sakes, Ron! Tea! At a time like this!"
"Well-it might make her feel better… you never know…"
"I'd honestly just like to-"
"Tea sounds like a lovely idea-"
"I think Hermione just wants to go to bed," Harry said loudly, causing everyone to turn around and look at him. A look of relief passed over Hermione's face.
Harry was suddenly aware that the room was silent. I don't want to make a scene, Harry thought, glancing around at all the eyes. He could almost feel Hermione's unease.
Hermione seemed to come to herself. Hefting her chin, she pulled her bag close to her chest and marched out of the room. She walked by Harry without glancing at him.
Ron swallowed and pulled at the corner of his shirt, where the thread was beginning to unravel. "Well… that went well."
Mrs. Weasley gave a large sniff. "That poor girl."
Harry couldn't listen anymore. Turning, he followed Hermione's path upstairs. He paused outside her door. This door is only a few centimeters thick.
That's all that's separating us. A few centimeters.
Harry leaned closer, wondering what she was doing. Crying. Sleeping. Staring blankly ahead.
He wanted… no, needed… to be in there with her. She's said goodbye to her parents for what could be the last time. She shouldn't be alone.
Harry almost knocked. Almost. He stared at the door and imagined himself bursting in.
Hermione, you listen to me! I don't care if you're angry with me-or confused-or… or however you're feeling! That doesn't matter! I won't just go away! Not after six years of friendship, not after everything we've done together. I won't leave you alone. Not now.
The words echoed in his mind as Harry followed the hall around to his room. There, he flopped on his back and squeezed his eyes shut, unable to even bother changing.
He slept restlessly. He dreamed of spinning doors and the antiseptic smell of the hospital and a ticking clock that never ended.
***
When he woke the next morning, Harry felt an eerie sense of déja vu. Ron was sound asleep. There was sunlight pouring in through the window.
With a sense of panic, Harry threw his legs over the side of his bed and hurried downstairs. He spared little thought for his rumpled clothing.
He skidded to a halt in the kitchen, breathing heavily. A familiar sight greeted him. Lupin sat at the table, his morning coffee beside him, and a copy of the Daily Prophet open in front of him.
"Hermione…" Harry said, still out of breath. "Did you see her? Did she come down?"
Lupin looked up, startled by the desperation he heard in Harry's voice. "Yes, of course. She came down a little while ago. She… took her food back to her bedroom."
Harry slumped in relief.
"What's going on, Harry?" Lupin asked.
"Nothing," Harry said, going to pour himself some orange juice. "I thought… I just thought for a moment that maybe she'd changed her mind. That-that she'd decided to leave with them after all. I dunno why I thought that."
Lupin smiled thinly. "She's… well, I daresay she's withdrawing into herself."
"No kidding," Harry said sharply. He slammed the orange juice down on the counter. "Why? Why is she doing this?"
"People handle grief in different-"
"She's Hermione!" Harry said, whirling around. "Rational Hermione! She should know! She should-just-know."
"Know what?"
"That it's stupid!" Harry said. "She can't keep this all inside-it's dangerous! She needs us! She needs… she needs me! I know she does! She knows she does! Why won't she let us help her? Why is she doing this to herself?"
"She's…" Lupin's eyes clouded over and he spoke softly. "She's punishing herself."
Harry gaped at him, the orange juice container frozen in his hands. "What?"
"She's punishing herself," Lupin said again. "She feels… she feels she's to blame for the attack on her parents. She feels like she's being disloyal to them by leaving them. She feels-"
"Like she needs to suffer," Harry said, with sudden understanding. He set the juice down on the counter. His throat burned. "Oh, god."
His earlier anger with her evaporated as quickly as it came. In a way, it made perfect sense. The reason she was avoiding him, the reason she was pushing him away… it made sense.
"I know what that's like," Harry said. "I know what it's like to think that you've brought something… awful to the people you love. But you have to go on… it's too hard… if you cut yourself off."
Lupin stood up and gave a stretch. "Well, you said it yourself, Harry. Hermione's a rational girl. Let us hope she reaches the same conclusion."
***
Hermione's self-isolation was driving Harry mad. It had been two days since she'd returned from the hospital. Two days.
Occasionally, she left her room to get food, to shower, to use the bathroom. Each time, she made sure to carefully avoid Harry.
Harry was nearing a point where he would have done anything to catch a glimpse of her. Just so he could reassure himself she was still alive.
The weight of Hermione's mood seemed to hang on the entire house. They were quiet as they moved around. The Weasleys were tense and awkward. Ron and Ginny bickered constantly and Mrs. Weasley was constantly after them for not doing their part around the house.
Harry wandered the house in a daze, pausing every once in a while outside Hermione's door and debating with himself. He told himself not to push her. He told himself to wait until she was ready.
His Apparation lessons with Tonks were turning into complete fiascos.
"Harry, you're not focusing."
I know, Harry thought. Bit distracted at the moment, thank you.
"You have to visualize the place you want to end up," Tonks said, for the thousandth time. "Like-say you want to go to Paris. Picture yourself standing next to the Eiffel tower and then just… project yourself there… with your mind…"
"Right, the Eiffel tower," Harry repeated.
"No!" Tonks said. "No! For Merlin's sakes, Harry! You're hardly ready to go all the way to Paris! Why do you think it's so hard for a wizard to Apparate somewhere he's never been? You have to be able to recreate the details exactly!"
Tonks was beginning to look frazzled. Harry couldn't blame her. They'd already been at it two hours and he hadn't even managed to splinch himself. The best he'd done was to flicker for a moment before reappearing in the same spot.
Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on visualizing the room around him. He could see the two armchairs, the big couch… the fire in the corner. He focused on the fire. Now… concentrate on getting yourself over there… feel the fire on your face…
Harry opened his eyes and was disappointed to find that he was in the same spot. Tonks looked at him expectantly.
"Nothing."
Tonks looked discouraged. "Well… you'll get it eventually. It's not easy for anyone… I'm sure it'll be fine… all be fine…"
"You're trying too hard."
Harry spun around. Hermione stood in the entrance to the living room, arms at her sides and face oddly strained.
"Wh-what?" Harry said.
"You're trying too hard," she said. "You can't force it. It has to seem natural. Use the magic around you."
Harry's heart was beating very fast. He didn't know why she had chosen this moment to talk to him or to come out of isolation, but he was going to do his best to keep her there. He closed his eyes.
"Natural… natural…"
"Where were you trying to end up?" Hermione asked.
"The fireplace."
"You want to make yourself believe you're there. You can't force it. If you can trick your body into thinking that's where you are, it should take you there."
Harry tried to relax, but he found that her presence was almost more of a distraction. In an attempt at following her advice, Harry thought of himself sitting down beside the fire, a Quidditch magazine out on his lap. He imagined Hermione curled up next to him, her face slightly flushed from the heat of the flames.
He heard a small plop and his insides gave a jerk. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find himself standing next to the armchair beside the fire.
Tonks looked ecstatic.
Hermione was gone.
***
Ron was the first one to snap.
They were spending a Saturday afternoon together in the living room. Rain pounded against the roof; the only noise in the room. Harry and Ron sat on the living room floor playing chess, though neither of them was concentrating. Mrs. Weasley was curled up in an armchair knitting and Ginny was immersed in her homework.
The tension was palpable. Every once in a while one of them would look towards the stairs, their minds drifting to whom was missing. Tonks, Lupin, and Mr. Weasley were out on Order business and Hermione had secluded herself in her room.
Since Hermione had appeared in the middle of his Apparation lesson yesterday afternoon, Harry had been turning the incident over and over in his mind. He had the sinking feeling she'd been trying to tell him something. As usual, he'd completely missed her point.
"Your move," Ron said.
Though Ron's words were hushed, they pierced the silence around them. Mrs. Weasley's hands stilled on her knitting.
Harry glanced blearily down at the game. "I'm sorry, Ron. I'm having trouble… I don't know if this is such a good idea."
"Yeah," Ron said. With jerky movements, he began collecting pieces from the board, angrily tossing them into the box. There were boos and hisses from the pieces.
"Bloody hell!" Ron burst out, folding up the board and slamming it down on the floor. "I can't take this anymore. We are going to talk to Hermione right now!"
Harry jumped up. "Ron, I don't know if this is such a good idea…"
"Such a good idea? SUCH A GOOD IDEA?" Ron said, face turning red. "Why doesn't it surprise me that you think so?"
"Ronald-"
"Don't bother, Mum," Ron said. "We're all thinking it."
"Ron…"
"You don't say anything!" Ron shouted, advancing on Harry. "You two-you're supposed to have this grand love of all time, and yet you can't even take two seconds to talk to her!
"Ron, please…"
"Don't make excuses for yourself!" Ron hollered. "I'm sick and tired watching Hermione suffer! And you won't do anything about it!"
Harry felt cold. He stumbled back a step. "It's not like that," he said, in a scratchy voice. "You don't know-"
"I know enough!" Ron said. "If it was me, Harry, you know what I'd do? I'd stupefy her if it meant talking to her! I'd break down her bloody door! I WOULDN'T AVOID HER!"
"SHE'S THE ONE AVOIDING ME!!!"
"SO? YOU'RE NOT DOING ANYTHING TO STOP IT-"
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND-"
"WELL, SOD OFF, THEN! I'M GOING TO TALK TO HER, IF YOU WON'T!"
"Enough! I will not tolerate you shouting in this house!"
Mrs. Weasley's voice seemed to pierce through the red haze surrounding Harry and Ron and they both took a deep, ragged breath.
"Honestly, what kind of behaviour is this?" Mrs. Weasley said. "Neither of you will help Hermione by shouting at each other."
Ron snorted. "Well, one of us is never going to help Hermione, anyway…"
"Shut. Your. Hole."
"Both of you be quiet," Ginny hissed, standing up in alarm. Her notes fluttered to the floor around her.
Harry and Ron whirled around. Hermione stood in the doorway, watching them. Wide eyes stood out on her pale face. An endless second ticked by and Harry felt his legs weaken. No, no, no, NO, NO, NO…
Without saying anything, Hermione's chest hitched and she ran in the opposite direction. Harry and Ron glanced at each other, dull horror creeping onto their faces.
"I hope you're happy now," Ginny snapped, bending down to pick up her notes.
Ron pressed a shaking hand to his eyes. Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat.
"Ron," he said quietly. "Please believe me when I tell you… I'm doing the best I can."
Ron nodded.
***
When it happened, it was the middle of the night. Harry wasn't even aware of what had awoken him. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, it slowly dawned on him that he wasn't alone. Heavy breathing met his ears, and he went still, heart in his throat.
Then, there was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. "Harry… Harry, wake up… wake up, Harry…"
Harry sat up, shocked. "Hermione?"
There was a moment of silence and the hand disappeared from his shoulder. Harry wished he could see.
"Hermione…" he said again. "What's-what's going on?"
Harry held his breath, wondering if she'd left, if perhaps he'd imagined it all. He heard a sharp intake of air and his bed shifted as someone sat down on it. He barely had time to process all of that before her arms were around his neck, and her face was pressed up against his chest, her chest hitching in rhythm with her breathing.
She smelled like old books and tea and vanilla and Hermione. He could hear the rain still beating down on the house, and he pulled her tightly against him, a lump gathering in his throat.
"Hermione…" he said again, hardly daring to believe it
She pressed herself closer and Harry did the best he could to cover them up with his blankets, feeling a need to keep her warm and protected. She let out a tiny sob, the noise drowned out by the sound of the rain and the snores from Ron's side of the room.
Harry moved his hands over her back, feeling her shaking and crying against him. Relief filled him, hot and powerful, and left his throat aching.
"Shh…" he said. "I'm here. It's okay."
Nothing was okay, and they both knew it, but it was exactly what Hermione wanted him to say. Slowly her ravaged sobs slowed to dull hiccups until she was breathing normally. She gripped him tightly around the neck and Harry's shirt felt damp from the force of her tears.
She moved her head slightly, resting her chin on his shoulder. Relaxing, her hands slid down his back.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."
"Don't be…" Harry said. "It's… it's alright, Hermione. I'm just glad you…"
"I know," she said, her voice trembling. "Thank you."
Harry drew back so he could cup her face with his hands. Still blind, he kissed her face everywhere he could, bumping into her nose, her ears, her cheeks. She gave a few more punctuated sniffs. She tried to kiss him back, and finally their lips made contact, awkward from their position and tears.
When they pulled back, he could hear her breathing, laboured from her tears. He ran his hands up and down her arms, squinting in the dark. She shivered before hugging him tightly again, as if he could ward off her chill and her fear.
He held her close, wishing he could do exactly that. Her legs slid and intertwined with his, her breath was warm against his neck. He could feel her body, so close to his, so real. Her arms around his neck, her face pressed just under his chin, and her hair spilled out around her…
Harry listened to the rain pounding on the house, beating against it in a constant drum. His bed creaked as he shifted, trying to get comfortable, trying to make sure she was comfortable. He wanted to kiss her again, or whisper in her ear, promises of his love, devotion…
But he knew she wasn't ready for that. It wasn't what she wanted. She just wanted him. She just wanted to hold on.
And he could give her that.