Delusional by chrisfaithalin

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 23/11/2005
Last Updated: 25/08/2008
Status: In Progress

When Harry is hit by the Death Curse by Voldemort, he wakes up in an insane asylum. There is no
way of getting out and he needs to go find Voldemort to finish what he started. Can Hermione help?
Can he learn something about himself?




1. untitled
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Delusional

Chapter 1

“This is for my parents,” Harry growled, his wand pointed at Voldemort's head.

Voldemort's glowing, red eyes expressed no emotions as he stared back at what would be his
killer. He lay there helplessly waiting for the inevitable.

Harry was concentrating all his energy and magic through him on this single person (if you could
call Voldemort that) that he intended to kill. The killing curse was on the tip of his tongue when
all of a sudden he felt something heavy hit his head and his vision blurred as he fell to the
ground.

Slowly the fuzzy shapes around him came in to focus and he saw Wormtail standing over him and
then the tables had turned as Voldemort's wand was now pointed at his head.

Voldemort didn't waste his breath on useless words and simply spoke, “Avada Kedavra.”

Harry felt a pain that was so intense he couldn't even scream, it was too excruciating. He
felt his grip on reality slip as he fell into blackness.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Argh,” Harry moaned as he turned over in his bed to face away from the bright gleaming sun that
was shining through the window. He would just sleep a few more minutes, then he would go down to
The Great Hall to join everyone for some breakfast before his first class. He cracked open his eyes
to see if Ron had awakened yet.

`What the hell?' Harry thought to himself as he fully opened his eyes and sat upright. He
looked around him and took in his unfamiliar surroundings. He was in a room that was a bland, pale
tan color and very box like. He was lying on a bed set against one of the walls and mirrored on the
other side was another bed, empty. There was a small night stand by the table with a plastic glass
of water and notebook and pencil.

The other side of the room was covered in drawings, mostly pencil sketches, but a couple were
watercolor. Many of the subjects were people standing in the middle and then objects surrounding
them. They were very good and very intricate.

Harry found himself fascinated by the pictures for a few minutes before he was brought back to
more pressing issues of him being in a strange place, wearing unfamiliar pajamas, his body aching
all over, and not knowing what the hell was going on.

“Ok, so what was the last thing I remember?” Harry spoke out loud, trying to figure out what was
going on. “Well, I was dueling Voldemort, and I was about to say the killing curse, but somebody
had attacked me and then Voldemort was standing over me. And then he was about to kill me…” Harry
trailed off as he brought his hand to his forehead where his scar was burning. This was a different
kind of hurt. It felt raw and sore. Usually the pain was inside. This time the skin itself
surrounding the scar ached.

Harry was brought out of his thoughts as a tiny boy, maybe 14 years old, walked into the room.
“Ah, you're finally up? You've been sleeping for days. I've had to be extra quiet. They
warned me not to disturb you. Do you want to get some breakfast? They are going to stop serving in
less than a half an hour,” the boy spoke quickly, obviously exited. He was a very small person, yet
his voice was loud and deep. He had sandy blond hair that was to his shoulders, unkempt and unruly
in a way that reminded Harry of Sirius.

Harry's mind was moving a mile a minute as he tried taking this all in, not only what the
boy was saying, but what he wanted to ask the boy first. Although answering the food question
seemed like a good idea to his rumbling stomach, he opted for something different. “Where am
I?”

“You are in the Rehabilitation Center For Troubled and Unsound Youth, which is just a fancy way
of saying this is the place where they put the crazies,” the boy spoke nonchalantly, as if this was
nothing.

“And why am I here?” Harry questioned.

“I can't tell you. All they told me is that your name is Harry Potter,” the boy shrugged.
“So is that a no to the food question?”

Harry was thinking this over for a few moments. There was no reason he couldn't question the
boy further over a meal and he was really hungry. Not to mention he knew he wasn't going crazy.
His name was still Harry Potter after all.

“Sure, I'll grab some food,” Harry replied.

The boy seemed excited and led Harry out of the room walking quickly down hallways that wound in
and out of each other. The boy was always a step ahead of Harry, but he would turn around to make
sure that Harry was still behind him. Harry was getting dizzy from all of the sterile, non-descript
colors that coated the walls. After each turn, the next hallways looked the same as the one they
were down. Harry could tell he was going to get lost here.

Finally, the boy turned one last time and they were in the cafeteria. The boy led Harry to a
small line and they walked through it. Harry has never seen food that looked like this before, not
even in his public school days. All of it looked the same, mushy and clumpy. Harry didn't even
know what to request since he couldn't name anything he was seeing. So, he decided to just
point silently and took the plate that the cook gave him. He then turned to get out of the line,
but nobody was moving. They were still in line, waiting to be checked off by a lady standing at the
end of the line.

The boy went through first and told the woman his name , “Smith, Peter.”

The woman followed her pen down the list and found his name and checked it off. Peter stepped
out of line and it was Harry's turn to tell the lady his name, “Potter, Harry.” Harry stood
there nervously, not knowing what to expect.

The woman scanned the page and shook her head. “You're not on the list, hon. You don't
have an eating disorder do you?”

“Umm, no,” Harry mumbled, never having that question directed to him before.

“Then you don't have to check out with me every time you eat,” The lady told him kindly, and
then turned her attention to the next person in line.

Harry walked off, confused, towards Peter who was now sitting down at one of the many empty
tables. Harry placed his tray down on the table and sat down next to Peter.

Harry sat down at the table not knowing what to say. Luckily Peter was the one that took the
initiative and started the conversation.

"So you're not an ED?"

"ED?" Harry questioned as he pushed around his food skeptically, unsure if it really
could be called that.

"Eating disorder, do you have one?" Peter asked as if he was questioning whether the sky
was blue.

"Um, no. I don't," Harry told Peter.

Peter looked at Harry expectantly, waiting for more. "Then why are you here?"

"I honestly don't know. I can't really say."

"Do you remember a life before the rehab? What was that like?"

Harry didn't know how he was supposed to answer this. He really wanted to tell the truth, about
how he was from the wizarding world and that the last thing he remembered was almost being killed
by Voldemort, easily the most evil person in the history of the world. But if he did then they
truly would have a reason for him to be here.

His options were few, and none really had a good outcome, so he decided to lie. “I don't
exactly remember. There are just a lot of blurry events with faces that I can't really make
out. I can't really explain it,” Harry said, making sure to make his face look like he was
thinking hard.

Peter shook his head. “That's tough luck, I bet the psychs will figure you out soon
enough.”

“The psychs?” Harry questioned, there was still so much that he didn't know about this place
he was in.

“The psychiatrists that we have to talk with a couple days a week. The rest of the days are
spent in group therapy and group activities,” Peter explained.

Harry's head was hurting, thinking of all of this information being presented to him. He
didn't even know what to ask next. He opted to learn more about his roommate. He didn`t know
exactly how to bring it up, but decided the best route, to be blunt. “So, why are you here?”

Peter looked up, a look of shock on his face at the question.

Harry instantly felt bad. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that.”

Peter shook his head and held up his hands, signaling for Harry to stop talking. “Please,
don't be sorry. It is refreshing having someone just come out and ask questions, rather than
beating around the bush. Everybody here is extra careful to be mindful of peoples feelings. I
understand why, but it can be kind of annoying.”

Harry laughed, not knowing how to respond to Peter, he was still trying to figure him out. He
was honest, obviously, but there was more to him, and he couldn't put the finger on what it was
exactly.

Peter continued, answering Harry's question, “I'm an ED which means I have an eating
disorder. My preference is Anorexia. I could have been bulimic, but I honestly can't stand
throwing up or hearing it, so well, obviously I chose the other.”

Harry wondered if Peter was joking. He had never heard of something so serious, being talked
about so lightly. Not to mention he was shocked. Of course he had heard of eating disorders amongst
teenage girls, but never among young males. It simply never occurred to him that boys could have
anorexia.

It seemed that Peter was reading his mind. “I know, surprising. I'm not your typical ED
case. A 19 year old male from a middle class family. I can hardly believe it myself.” Peter shook
his head as he put another bite of food in his mouth.

“19?” Harry couldn't comprehend that this boy who was tinier than him be older than him.
“You're 19?”

Peter nodded sadly. “Yes, I am. I have had anorexia for a long time, as long as I could
remember, and it stunted my growth. The doctors said if I continue eating I might be able to grow a
little more before I reach full adulthood, but the chances are slim.”

“Wow,” Harry sighed, still trying to take everything in. Slowly the world started to come into
focus, and he was really thinking about where he was. There was so much to say, and ask. Then it
came to him like a ton of bricks.

If the last thing he remembered was Voldemort about to kill him, then Harry obviously had not
killed Voldemort, and thus he was still out there, biding his time, killing people as he moved
through the country. Panic gripped Harry's heart as he thought of all the innocent lives that
could be dying while he was locked up in this insane asylum. Well, not locked up necessarily. What
would happen if he tried to escape?

This thought went rushing through his head, and was bouncing around back and forth, refusing to
leave. He had to get out of here and finish what had been started. If only he had his wand, it
would be so simple to get out of here, but he had already checked all of his pockets and it was
nowhere to be found. Harry decided he would try to escape the normal way, running.

“Peter, can we go outside at all?” Harry questioned.

“Yeah, there is a nice garden outside which is really nice to take afternoon walks in. I will
show it to you if you would like.” Peter stood up, picked up his tray, and went and showed the
woman the empty plate and then walked over to a conveyer belt in the wall. Harry followed and
watched as Peter placed his tray on the belt and it was transported through the wall into the
kitchen from the sound that was coming out. Harry sat down his tray was well and they moved out of
the cafeteria and back through the halls again.

Harry was just as confused this time around by the halls. They all looked the same, blank and
empty, and there was no way he could distinguish them. Finally, they came to a door that opened to
the outside.

Harry breathed in the fresh, crisp air and let it fill his lungs completely. He looked around
him and took the autumn scene in. The trees were all a bright orange, and it was surprisingly not
raining. There were gigantic pure white clouds that filled the sky. All around him were trees and
bushes that spotted the landscape. In the distances were the faint signs of a village.

Harry tested the distance and the amount of trees and bushes that would provide cover for him to
hide. It would be difficult, but he could do it. He was The Boy Who Lived after all. What
couldn't he do.

“It's lovely isn't it?” Peter sighed, referring to the sun that was gaining height in
the sky.

“Yeah, it is,” Harry said, not really referring to the beautiful sky, but rather the sight of
the village. Not giving himself the chance to chicken out, Harry started running. He ran as if the
devil was after him. His legs were stiff, but there was no stopping himself now. His body was
burning and telling him that that it couldn't continue, but his will kept him going. The
thought of reaching that village kept him running.

Harry hadn't been running more than a minute or two, when he felt a stab in upper back. Feet
tripping over themselves, Harry fell to the ground, not knowing what had hit him. Harry reached
around to his back and felt the vague shape of what was probably a tranquilizer. As he felt it,
Harry felt his arm feel heavier and heavier and his eyes began to droop. Slowly, his world went to
black.

A/N-Another beginning. I originally started this story for nanowrimo, but decided to take it
easy and really develop the story a little. This will large, and there is going to be a lot of
aspects to this story that I'm excited about. I don't really want to give much away, but I
will be updating again in the near future as I already have most of the next chapter done. Please
tell me if you like it or not, as this is new territory for me and kind of different in general.
Hermione for sure will be showing up in the near future, and maybe some other people. We will just
have to see.

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2. untitled
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Chapter 2

“Well, well, you just had to run,” Peter mumbled softly.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the bright light that was streaming
through the window. He glanced over and saw Peter sitting cross-legged on his bed, a sketch pad
propped on one of his knees. His hand was making large sweeping motions across the paper.

“What are you talking about?” Harry questioned, groggily. He sat up and immediately regretted
that decision when the room started spinning around him. He leaned back against the wall, trying to
focus on Peter and make the room stop moving.

Peter glanced up quickly, smiling at Harry's nauseous look. “You decided to run. You
definitely are not the brightest crayon in the box.”

“What are you talking about? How should I know I would be beaten down?”

“Well, for one, you were not beaten down, you were shot with a very mild tranquilize. Two, were
you really being so stupid that you would think that this place has no security to keep the crazies
in? Three, if you had just mentioned to me what your plans were, I would have told you exactly what
happens when people try to run. I mean I had to learn the hard way, and I would have loved to spare
you the pain of being shot down.” Peter paused and examined his picture more closely, then hunched
over as he added some finer details to his sketch.

Harry made a face, even if Peter wasn't looking. His brain wasn't able to compute words
against this logic. So, he decided to just continue to sit quietly. However, the silence did not
last long.

“You are wanted in the office,” Peter informed him, still not looking up from his sketch.

“The office?”

“Yeah, the office. That is where all the psychs are?”

“Psychs?” Harry asked, eyebrows raised.

“The psychologists, although they like to be called counselors. I don't know why. Maybe
because it has a friendlier feeling to it. They want you to be all touchy-feely with them. I bet
they want to have a nice little chat about why you ran, what were your thoughts when you decided to
run, and what exactly were you running from,” Peter imitated his best Freudian accent.

Harry chuckled nervously, wondering how much of what Peter said was true, and he had a feeling
it would be more than he would like. “So, where would this office be?”

“Take a left out the door, and take a right at the end of the hallway and follow the happy
puppies that will point you along your merry way,” Peter finally glanced up at Harry and smiled.
“Don't worry, you'll be fine. They aren't so bad.”

Harry felt slightly better as he headed out of his room and down the hallway. He followed the
instructions and was surprised to find that Peter had been right when he had said that there were
puppies on the wall that pointed him, maybe not on his merry way, but at least in the right
direction.

He stopped outside a glass window that showed an office area. He opened the door and walked up
to the receptionist, whose desk plate read Shirley Porter.

“Hello deary, you can call me Shirley, what can I do for you?” Shirley had mass of curly brown
hair that was tied back at the back of her head in a ribbon. Her dress was seasonal with fall
leaves scattered all over it.

“My name is Harry Potter and I think a counselor wants to see me or something?” Harry was
desperately hoping that this was wrong, and that Shirley would tell him that he must have heard
wrong and that he could go back to his room. That however was not the case.

Shirley looked down at an appointment book. “Ummm, I don't have you written down. Let me
just check the computer.” She typed away for a minute or two. “Mmhmm, I see, this is an emergency
meeting and that is why I don't have you down in a regular appointment slot. Go ahead and have
a seat and the counselor will be out to see you when they have time,” Shirley told him kindly and
pointed to the little row of chairs.

Harry gave Shirley a quick smile and a thank you before sitting down at one of the chairs. Harry
glanced at the table next to him and the pile of magazines that was sitting on the table that was
next to his chair. The top one had a cover of some actor that was supposedly the sexiest man on the
planet. He moved that magazine aside and there was one that was going to reveal the secret to
losing 10 pounds in two weeks. Harry opted for the pop culture magazine and started to mindless
flip through it.

His mind was not on the colorful pictures that filled the pages. Harry couldn't help
thinking of why he was here. He had no idea what was going on and what he going to be telling his
counselor. He was either going to have to tell the truth or he was going to have to come with a
very good story. If he told the counselors the truth, they would probably then have a solid reason
for him to be there. However, though the chances are small, the counselor might be a muggle who
knew about the wizarding world or was a wizard themselves. There might be a chance that the person
will know who he is and will let him go.

“Harry Potter?” a big burley man announced from the opened doorway.

Harry stood up nervously and walked towards the man.

“Hello there Harry, I am Steve. Just follow me back to my room.” Steve turned around and started
to head down the hallway.

Harry followed him slowly down the hallway, glancing through the different doors. After going
past four doors, they stopped at a bright door that was covered in drawings. Some of the drawings
looked like they were done by third graders, while others looked like a professional artist did
them. All of them had the name Steve somehow incorporated into the picture. Some were plain, with
the name Steve just decorated, or others had Steve stand for an object in one of the pictures.

“Harry, come on in,” Steve broke Harry's concentration and brought him back to reality.

Harry walked into the room and once again was amazed. This large man who would not look out of
place in a motorcycle gang, well except for the khaki pants and gray sweater, had the most colorful
room in the world. The walls were painted a bright orange and the bookshelves that were packed with
books were a neon green. Multi-colored rugs were all over the floor along with tie-die beanbag
chairs. The only normal items in the room were two leather chairs and a desk with a computer on
it.

“Go ahead have a seat wherever you want,” Steve motioned towards the many seating choices in the
room.

As tempted as he was, Harry vied for the leather chair and sat down on the edge, looking around,
still studying the room.

Steve sat down on the leather chair, opposite of Harry's chair with a folder and a notepad
in his lap. Steve glanced through the file quickly and then put it aside and picked up the notepad
and pen. Poised and ready, Steve broke the silence, “So, you're a runner?”

Harry smiled nervously as he rubbed throbbing head. “I promise you I won't be making a habit
of it.”

Steve laughed, a big and booming laugh that filled the room. “I have no doubts about that one.
However, we have to talk about why you did this and why you are here. Often, when kids come here,
they were too doped up on drugs or went through too traumatic of an event to even remember why they
were here. Is that the case for you Harry?”

Harry nodded. “Although it wasn't because I was on drugs or anything, and I'm not a
kid,” Harry added on stubbornly.

“It says here,” Steve tapped the file that was sitting next to him, “that you are 17. Is that
not correct?”

“Yeah, that's right.”

“Well, here that means you are still a child. Everybody here is considered a child. This place
is only for people in their teenage years.”

“Ok, I got it.”

“Good, now lets move on to why you are here. It says in the file that when you were in the
hospital you kept telling people that you were the great Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. You also
kept talking about your wizarding powers or something,” Steve stated all of this pretty matter of
factly and was observing Harry's response to these accusations.

Harry's mind was reeling a mile a minute, trying to decide what his best course of action
was going to be. Part of him was saying that he should just play it cool, and find out exactly what
he had told them. The other part of him really wanted to just jump off a cliff and tell them
everything. It really couldn't be any worse. But he decided for the first option instead.

“What exactly did I say?” Harry questioned, curious.

Steve raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I believe it is I who should be questioning you. You are
in no position to be making demands, but just to keep you happy, I will tell you.” Steve opened the
file again and started flipping through some of the pages. Finally, finding the one he wanted,
Steve cleared his voice and started reading, “I am Harry Potter, the greatest hero of the wizarding
and muggle world alike. I am on a journey to finally defeat the great Lord Voldemort. My two best
friends Ron and Hermione will be here anytime to save me.” Steve stopped there and looked up at
Harry. “Do you want me to continue?”

Harry shook his head as he took a big gulp. He was in deep shit. There was no doubt about that.
He had told the people in the hospital a lot. They must have had them on a lot of drugs to get him
to spill all of that information. Which speaking of, how did he get in the hospital and why7 But he
had to take each problem at a time. The first was telling Steve his story. They obviously already
thought he was crazy, how crazy was the question.

“So, what will I have to say to convince you that I am sane and don't need to be here right
now?” Harry asked, hoping for an easy answer, although there probably was not one.

“There is nothing you can say that is going to get you out of here. It is not a question of your
sanity. We don't like to think that people are insane, however people do live in these false
delusions.”

Harry felt the anger rise in him, he tried to calm himself, but he spoke out anyways, “I am NOT
delusional. I am a wizard and I have powers and there really is this evil wizard whose name is
Voldemort, and he is going to take over the world if I don't get out of here and stop him.”

Steve looked at Harry skeptically, and said hesitantly, “Could you perform a little bit of magic
for me?”

Harry's stomach dropped as he made reach his pocket, where his wand would normally be. “No,
I don't have my wand. And I haven't mastered doing magic without it.”

Steve nodded as if this made sense to him. “Of course, that's fine.”

“So, why am I here. How did I come to being here?” Harry asked.

“We can't really say for sure. You just showed up in the hospital one day, really beaten up.
They found out who you were, and they contacted you family,”

Harry cut Steve off, “the Dursley's?”

“I am not sure Harry, but all I know is they thought it would be best if you came here since you
were muttering and talking about this strange wizarding world. They seemed really worried about
this and decided it would be best if you came here.”

Harry nodded even though things were still not making sense. It still didn't explain how he
got to a hospital and why he would go there instead of going back to Hogwarts, or even Diagon Alley
or St. Mungos. Just somewhere that was familiar with him and knew who he was. This didn't seem
to be the case.

“So, how and when do I get to go home?” Harry asked.

Steve sat back and got more comfortable. “What is home?”

Harry didn't hesitate to answer, “Hogwarts.”

“And Hogwarts is the wizard school?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered, not wanting to lie.

“Well, we will let you go back to Hogwarts when we feel you are ready. Now, going on, why did
you run?”

Harry leaned back in the chair and brought his legs up to his chest, not liking all of the
questions. “I don't know. I just wanted to get out of here. This is unfamiliar.”

“Understandable, but running didn't get you anywhere did you?”

Harry shook his head. “No, it only caused pain.”

“Exactly,” Steve answered brightly, trying to really push this point home. “Running only causes
pain. It doesn't fix problems, but lets you avoid them.”

Harry felt like there was more to what Steve was saying than what he was flat out saying, but he
couldn't get his muddled brain to wrap his mind around these words.

Steve watch Harry for a moment, studying his face, trying to read Harry's mind. After a few
minutes of silence, Steve opened Harry's folder and pulled out a stack of papers. “Here are the
rules, and your schedule. You are going to be doing a lot of group therapy sessions and of course 3
days a week you are going to come in to see me and we will make note of your progress. This place
can be good for you, if you let it.” Steve handed the papers to Harry and stood up to open the
door.

Harry followed the hint and walked out the door and started walking down the hallway, ignoring
the good bye from Steve. He walked through the reception area and started to mindlessly walking
down the hallway, his mind as confused as ever. How desperately he wished that he had his wand with
him, or at the very least if he had somebody's phone number, like Hermione's family or
something. Why didn't he memorize them? He would never have guessed that those would someday be
very important to him.

Then his thoughts fell back to Voldemort. Voldemort was still out there killing people as he
moved through the country. There had to be some way of escaping to get to him.

Harry stopped and looked around him, unsure of where he was. Once again, the hallway looked the
same as the many others he had been down, and there were no little puppies pointing the right
way.

A/N-This was the other chapter I promised. I have nothing else written after this, but I have
this entire story mapped out. Trust me there is a purpose and it is going to all come together. But
it will probably take a while because I write slow. I just wanted to post another chapter, since I
got a good response from the first one. Thank you for all the reviews, and I always appreciate more
to tell me how I am doing. Thanks.

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3. Chapter 3
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Chapter Three-Suicidal Tendencies

“I would like everybody to introduce themselves for our new group member, Harry Potter.” The
group leader clapped her hands excitedly as she looked around the small group that consisted of 10
people. She had earlier introduced herself to Harry on the side as Patty Danes, and insisted that
Harry call her Patty.

Harry's stomach did a flip flop as he saw everybody's eyes focus in on him, taking in
every detail from his ruffled hair, to his wrinkled clothes that he had found in his dresser. Harry
had been dreading his first group therapy session all morning and he even tried to fake being sick
to miss it. However, they brought in a fully trained nurse that took his temperature and examined
him in many ways to come to the conclusion that he was not really sick. They forced him out of bed
and to change.

So, now he was sitting in a small room with folding chairs that were placed in a little circle.
Around him were drawings and posters that were mainly about emotions and ways of expressing
oneself. Harry could tell he was not going to be enjoying himself. He still didn't know exactly
what was expected of him and whether or not he should be telling people about himself. He was
assuming yes, since Steve already knew he guessed that Patty knew his history and would not let
himself bullshit his way through the sessions.

The introductions began. He tried to remember names, but they were going so fast, there was no
way to keep the name with the face. The only one he knew was Peter, who happened to be in his
group. Along with the name, the people introduced why they were there and the reasons were as
different as the people that were in the room, some were drug addicts, others eating disorders.
Also, depression/suicidal tendencies were another reason some were there.

Finally the introductions stopped and the silence filled the room as everybody continued to
stare at Harry, waiting for him to fill the silence and tell about himself. He didn't even know
what he should say was his reasons for being here, delusional maybe?

“I'm Harry Potter,” Harry mumbled weakly, wishing for the first time in his life somebody
would recognize him and verify everything he said. “I don't know exactly why I'm here.
I'm not delusional like they say.”

A couple snorted and laughed, one or two muttered “denial' under their breath, which caused
more people to snicker.

Patty glared at the rest of the group and reprimanded them, “I would like you to stop that right
now. We are not here to judge. This is Harry's first day and you are all acting
atrociously.”

Harry didn't really mind that he was being laughed at that much. He wouldn't believe
himself if he were them. There really was no proof that he was a wizard. For all he knew, he had
made up everything that has happened to him and he really was having delusions.

The laughter subsided and Patty spoke up. “Now, I don't know what was told to you about
these group sessions, but mainly what this is going to be is everybody talks about the reason why
they are here and that they can get feedback and a new prospective on their problems. Now, since
you are new we will start with you and let's start with why you are here. I want you to tell
the group who you are?”

Harry was dreading this, but he saw no way out of it. He was just going to have to say
everything. “I'm Harry Potter and I'm a wizard,” Harry paused and waited for the laughter
to be silenced by Patty's glares and then he continued on. “I am actually very famous where I
am from. People thought I had killed this very evil wizard when I was just a baby, but it turned
out he survived and resurfaced many years later and right now my life is devoted to fighting this
wizard.”

A stick thin blonde spoke up, “How can a baby kill an evil wizard?”

Harry sighed, “I don't know exactly, even now. But both of my parents were killed by this
guy, his name is Voldemort, and my mom sacrificed herself for me, so it was my mothers love that
saved me.”

A boy couldn't keep himself from laughing, “ah, how sweet.” Patty's glare would not
silence his laughter. He kept going, “what? Are we supposed to believing this load of shit? How can
love save anybody? If he still has the stupid notion that love is the greatest power in the world,
than he has another thing coming.” The guy now turned and glared at Harry. “I'm sorry to tell
you this but love doesn't work like that, at least, not in our world.”

Harry shook his head, not swayed by his words. “I don't care what you say. I know what to be
true, and that is love can overcome everything. It is not always the solution, but it is the most
powerful force in any world.” The guy just rolled his eyes and didn't continue speaking,
obviously seeing that neither were going to concede.

Patty watched this all, and waited for a few moments, as if the conversation was going to pick
right back up. After no one responded, she spoke, “does anyone else have any comments or questions
for Harry?”

A chubby girl with scars all over her body raised her hand and asked, “could you do some magic
for us?”

Harry knew that this question was coming. How he wish he had his wand with him. He would give
anything for it right now. That way he could get out of here, no problem. “I can't. I need my
wand to do magic. I know that sounds like a really stupid reason, but it is true. I honestly
don't know where it is.”

The girl nodded solemnly, as if she believed the words he spoke. Her eyes did not leave
Harry's as she watched his every movement. Harry shifted uncomfortably under her stare, as if
he had something to hide, but there was nothing left. He spilled it all out.

“My story begins on my 11th birthday,” Harry began the story of his life or rather
where his life began. Hagrid visiting him in that shack on the tiny pile of rocks ended up being
the turning point of his life. He told the group about his many adventures and the friendships he
had gained along the way. He even broached the painful subject of the people that he had lost.

His story captivated the group. Even the snide boy kept his comments at bay as he listened to
the magical tale that enchanted its audience. Its essence weaved its way into each and every one of
their single thoughts and kept them in a sort of trance.


After Harry had finished his story, it took several moments for the group to gather their thoughts.
They all felt like they were waking from a dream.

The first comment came from the girl with all the scars all over her body. “Why did you go after
Voldemort when you didn't have the last Horcrux?”

Harry's mouth dropped when he heard this question. He had to compliment the girl on her
observation to detail. “The reason I went after Voldemort is because I think I am the last Horcrux.
When he tried to kill me, he put himself into me and that is why I can talk to snakes and
such.”

“Then what were you going to do about that?” the girl continued on.

“The only thing I could, after I had finished off Voldemort in his present state I was going to
kill myself.”

“Did Hermione and Ron know about this?” the girl asked.

Harry shook his head. “If they did, they wouldn't have let me go through with it. I
didn't tell them to make sure I followed through.” Harry felt tears prick his eyes as his mind
went down this road of morbid thoughts.

The girl continued to look at him, with sympathy in her eyes and for some reason Harry
couldn't take his eyes away from hers. They were dark and mysterious, and they seemed to hold
all the sadness in the world. However, there was something else that was brimming over from
everything else and he couldn't quite place what it was.

Harry was brought out of his thoughts by the timid voice of Patty, “do you still have these
suicidal thoughts Harry?”

Harry turned his eyes away from the girls and glanced at all the faces. Peter was subtly shaking
his head no. Even the snide boy was giving him the signal to lie. But, Harry decided he told the
truth this far, he might as well not stop now. “Well, I haven't finished killing Voldemort yet,
so until then I will not be killing myself.”

Patty didn't accept this answer. “But, you are going to follow through on this plan to kill
yourself, just not for a while though.”

Now, Peter was furiously shaking his head, hoping that Harry was going to get the hint.

“That's correct,” Harry stated confidently.

Patty made a tsking sound and jotted something down on the notebook in her lap. She gave Harry a
long calculating stare and then wrote a couple more things down before returning her attention back
to the group session at hand.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

“You shouldn't have done that,” Peter said for the fourth time while he and Harry were
sitting in their room that evening.

Harry set down his journal and looked up at Peter. “What shouldn't I have done?”

“Tell them you are suicidal.”

“But, I was telling the truth.”

“Never tell people the truth! Lesson number 1 to surviving this joint”

“Huh?” Harry was confused.

Before Peter could explain there was knock on the door. Peter got up and opened the door for
snide boy.

“Hey, I just wanted to say something to Harry,” he said in a friendly tone.

Peter shrugged his shoulders and stood aside to let the boy enter. He came in and stood in front
of where Harry sat cross-legged on his bed. “I just wanted to say I am sorry for the way I acted
earlier. Today wasn't a good day, and well, for some reason…I don't know. I guess I just
wanted to say I respect what you have been through and whether it's true or not is something
else. One way or the other you have probably been through some messed up shit.”

Harry couldn't help but be shocked. This kid was the last person he would expect to be nice
to him, let alone say that he respected him. Now, he didn't know what to do. He was thrown off
his guard. He decided to do the only thing he really could. “I'm sorry what is your name
again?”

The guy laughed. “Sorry about that, forgot to introduce myself. I'm Alex, Alex Hamilton.
I'm an 18 year old, drug addicted, manic depressive, homeless person.”

Harry now knew why the kid had been such a jerk earlier. Anyone who had that many problems had
the right to be an ass, at least in Harry's opinion. “Well, nice to meet you Alex, I'm
Harry.” Harry put out his hand for Alex to shake.

Alex seemed surprise by this kind offer but he immediately put his hand out there to shake
Harry's hand firmly.

Peter watched this whole thing, and had always been wary of Alex, but from his behavior now,
maybe he wasn't so bad. “Do you want to join us? I was just going to explain to Harry why
telling the truth is wrong and why he shouldn't have told Patty about his suicidal
tendencies.”

Alex nodded in agreement and then jumped up on top of Harry's bed, making himself
comfortable. “He is right, you really shouldn't have said anything about that.”

Harry looked incredulous. “What? I don't have suicidal tendencies?”

Alex nodded sadly. “You do now. Anytime anybody mentions remotely that they want to kill
themselves or that they hurt themselves then they are put on the suicidal watch list.”

“That doesn't sound good,” Harry muttered.

“It's not. I was on it about a year ago because I was having one of my bad days and I cut
myself. Nothing life threatening like a major artery, but just on my arm some small shallow cuts.
Well, my roommate then, who was a sniveling, whiney brown noser, went and told Patty. I was on that
list for months. I had to have the door open at all times, people came and randomly checked in on
and me, and I couldn't have anything harmful in my vicinity. It took me around two months of
saying everything they wanted to hear to get off that damn list,” Alex told Harry.

Harry did not like how this was turning out. “Ok, so I am supposed to tell them everything they
want to hear? But don't they know that I am just lying? And what exactly do they want to hear?”
Harry questioned the other.

Peter looked up from the sketch he was currently working on. “Well, first of all they want to
hear that you are adjusting, looking at life in a new light, you feel like there is something to
live for…etc. As for them figuring it out, yeah, at first they don't believe you, but
eventually they don't know whether you are telling the truth or not, so they just slowly start
believing it.”

“Yup, I told them that I would never cut myself again, that it was a horrible choice of mine,
and I regretted all of my decisions.”

Harry nodded, trying to slowly comprehend all of these instructions. He could tell that it would
take him a while to pick up on all of these rules.

Peter understood this confused look and reiterated the information, “so just remember above all
else that lying is the key to freedom.”

And for some reason that struck him as funny, and for the first time since he had been there,
Harry let out a true laugh which was contagious to the other two boys. They laughed uproariously
over Peter's lame joke, and just like that, a friendship amongst those three had been
struck.

A/N-Well, there is the next chapter, yay for it for me finally writing it. I knew what was going
to happen for quite some time, I just got writers block in the middle of the group therapy session
and so I didn't write for a while. Then I picked it back up and hit a break through. I
purposefully stopped writing in a place that was kind of a cliffhanger so that I could pick it back
up easily with my new idea. However, when I did pick the story back up a month later, I
couldn't remember what my great idea was, and to this day I still don't know what I had
planned. I know it was good though. So, I had to rethink everything and write again. The last bit
came really easily. Anywho, I know what is happening in the next chapter, but once again I
can't promise when I will get the next chapter out. Just so you know, I have yet to abandon a
story and I have no plans to. The major thing that will delay me is classes and my other fan
fiction plans. I do want to write a one-shot for Rent in which Mark and Roger are not gay, and I
want to write a Battlestar Galactica fic, probably about Starbuck and Apollo. However, I will keep
chugging on this piece and will eventually get it out there. Sorry, for the hellishly long authors
note. I love all the positive reviews and I thank you all readers for sticking by me on this
fic.

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4. untitled
-----------



Chapter 4

Harry turned the corner and the sight that greeted him was the paper puppies that were pointing
him in the right direction. It was the day after his first group therapy, and Harry was very
curious on how his declaration of suicide would go over. After his friends exclamations about
Harry's stupidity on announcing his suicidal tendencies, Harry had been nervous, wondering what
Steve was going to do to him.

Harry paused for a second, his mind reeling at what he called Peter and Alex. They were his
friends. This thought spread through Harry, giving hope that he dared not have before. It was a
comforting thought to have friends in this place, and although he hadn't known Peter and Alex
that long, he still counted them as friends. Maybe he could survive this place, just maybe.

After this revelation, Harry continued on his merry way, arriving at the office he had visited a
few days before. Shirley immediately recognized him, and waved him off to a chair to wait. She bent
back over her computer to finish typing a sentence, before straightening up to smile at Harry, who
was sitting in one of the closer chairs.

“So, how has your first week here been going?” Shirley asked in an almost annoyingly cheery
tone.

“Oh, it wasn't too bad,” Harry responded vaguely.

“Are you making some friends?” Shirley continued on perkily.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I think I am.”

“Well, that's great news.”

Shirley couldn't continue the conversation, as Steve walked into the room looking at Harry
with a large smile on his face. “Nice to see you, Harry. Do you want to follow me back to my
office?” Steve asked, not really expecting an answer.

Harry nodded and pulled himself out of the chair, waving goodbye to Shirley, wishing he could
just stay out here, finishing his conversation. Patty waved back, turning to go back to her
email.

When they arrived at the office, Steve made a motion for him to choose his seat. Once again
Harry had the overwhelming urge to pick the bean bag chair, but chose the leather chairs
instead.

Steve plopped down across him, notepad on his lap, poised and ready to write. “So I hear you
told your therapy group all about your life,” Steve commented, obviously wanting to steer the
conversation into a certain direction.

Harry nodded reluctantly, not really knowing if he was going to be admonished for telling such a
fanciful tale or merely laughed at for believing something so crazy.

Steve's response was neither. He instead smiled at Harry and asked, “would you mind telling
me that story?”

Harry's mind paused as he considered Steven's tone, which was kind and curious. That
disarmed Harry as he had a preconceived notion that psychiatrists would be cold and nosy, not
really taking any heed to their patients personal boundaries. This stereotype did not seem to apply
to Steve. Harry mulled this over for a brief moment, before deciding that he should just tell Steve
everything as well. It's not like he had anything left to lose.

“It all started 16 years ago when my parents were killed by an evil wizard named Voldemort, and
I had to go live with my Aunt and Uncle, and let's just say I didn't have a lot in common
with them.” Harry smiled ruefully at the memory of his childhood with the Dursleys. Letting his
mind fall back to those times, Harry's story just seem to flow out of him, anxious to be free
of it. When he had finally concluded with his last encounter with Voldemort, 30 minutes had passed
and Harry felt drained. He stared expectantly at Steve, wondering what Steve was thinking.
Probably, this is the craziest one yet. Harry laughed on the inside at the thought.

Steve gazed at Harry for a moment, as if measuring him up, before speaking. “Wow, you have led
quite a life.”

Harry didn't know what to say to that because not only was that an obvious statement, but
Steve wasn't contradicting his story. Trying to play it on the safe side, Harry decided to not
say anything, and just see where Steve was going with this.

Steve sensed Harry being unsure about the situation, so he took the lead. “Well, my first
concern is your suicidal thoughts. Let's talk about that first.”

“I'm not suicidal,” Harry replied indignantly.

“You intend to harm yourself in a way that would lead to your death, that's suicidal.”

“But, I'm...” Harry trailed off, realizing that Steve had a point.

“May I ask, how are you going to kill yourself once you are finished with Voldemort. Do you
point your want at yourself and say this killing curse you were talking about earlier?” Seve
questioned curiously, not trying to sound as if he was making light of the situation.

Harry sat in silence for a few minutes, pondering this question. “I don't know exactly. I
never really thought much about what would happen if I killed Voldemort. I mean I had a vague
awareness that I would need to die, and I was fine with that decision. I just never thought of the
logistics as to how I would go through with it.”

“You just readily accepted the fact that you would die? I mean you would be leaving so many
people behind. How could you be so okay with the decision?”

“I don't know,” Harry started thoughtfully. “I guess in the back of my mind I always knew
that this war with Voldemort would claim my life.”

“Why is that? Do you think you don't deserve to live after everything you have done?”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, very confused. “I have done everything in my life for other
people. Why would I think that I don't deserve a happy ending? Shouldn't it be the
opposite?”

Steve shook his head slowly. “Not necessarily. Many heroes, save the world not so they can live
in the world they saved, but so future generations could enjoy it. Not to mention, you have done
some terrible things to get to Voldemort. You have killed...”

Harry had to interrupt at this point. “I did it to save lives. They were Death Eaters. They
would have killed me if I didn't,” Harry spat out angrily.

Steve softened his voice, saying, “I know. I am not here to debate the decision of killing them.
What I am concerned about is you. I mean, killing somebody, no matter if they deserved it or not,
must feel horrible.”

Harry's throat started to tighten as Steve was hitting on a point that kept him up at
nights. He remembered his first kill. It had been Bellatrix Lestrage. She had been guarding one of
the Horcruxes. Once he saw her, he all of a sudden became very angry. Seeing her just standing
there, a look of detachment and calm on her face was more than he could take. This was the person
that had killed his Godfather, her own cousin, without a second thought. This was the person that
tortured a Neville's parents until they were crazy. No matter how much he searched her eyes,
there was no remorse there. She just didn't care and before he could even think it through,
while the anger was still coursing through his veins, red splotches in his vision, he shouted the
killing curse, and her body crumpled to the ground. Her face was frozen in a look of surprise, not
even in her wildest dreams could she imagine Harry having the guts to kill somebody. Harry had just
stood there for what seemed hours, watching the blood slowly drain from her skin, her body never
moving.

He had caused that, and for some reason it had struck him that his was somebodies daughter. She
was someone's sister. This was Draco's Aunt. Somehow putting such human labels to her, made
him realize the seriousness of the situation. She was dead. Dead. She was never going to take
another breath because of something he knowingly and willingly decided to do.

Once he realized this, Harry threw up, whiling choking out sobs. He had literally curled himself
into a ball and started crying. He vaguely remembered Hermione reach him first, wrapping her arms
around him. Ron had gone off to retrieve the Horcrux, before they apparated out of there to the
safe house.

“Harry?” Steve was leaning towards him with a concerned look on his face.

As Harry pulled himself from his memories to the present, he felt the cool lines down his cheeks
where tears left their marks. Harry raised his eyes to meets Steve's probing eyes.

“I've killed. What does that make me? Am I really any better than Voldemort?”

“That's not really something we can decide. What we have to do is come to terms with our
decisions and live with the consequences. Then in the future we can call on these past experiences
and decide what to do from there.”

Harry nodded, taking in Steve's words, trying to decide if Steven's lecture sounded like
truth. It kind of did. It actually reminded Harry of a speech Dumbledore would have given Harry. “I
think I understand.”

“Okay, good. We are almost out of time, so I want you to continue this by writing in your
journal. I want you to write about that incidence you were thinking about and I want you to discuss
the consequences, how you feel about your decisions now, and how this may affect your future
decisions.”

“I think I can do that. But, is anybody going to be reading what I write. I mean am I going to
be turning this in to you?” Harry asked.

“No, these type of assignments are for your own benefit. If you don't do them, that's
fine. However, there is a method to my madness, and I don't want you to just practice your
penmanship. I give you these assignments to help you grow.”

“Ok, I get it. Also, there is something else I want to ask. Am I going to be on suicide watch?”
Harry spoke quickly, unable to keep the worry from his voice.

Steve gave him another one of his penetrating stares before saying, “I don't think so. I am
going to put in your file that you are at mild risk, but I don't think you are any risk while
you are here and as to being out there...well we can't do anything about that,” Steve drifted
off for a moment lost in his own thoughts before being brought back. “Well tomorrow is visitors
day, then Sunday is quiet day. So, the next time I will see you is Monday.”

Harry took this as his cue to rise from his chair and head toward toward the door. Hand on the
knob, he turned to look at Steve who was staring at him with a look of pity, which he quickly tried
to mask. Needing to clarify, to put Steve's mind at rest, Harry told Steve, “I'm not going
to kill myself here, it's only after I find Voldemort and kill him.”

“But, what if you can't get him?” Steve couldn't help asking.

Harry didn't hesitate before responding, “oh, I will get him. I have no doubt about
that.”

A/N- A couple things. I am so sorry about the long wait. I was writing a Battlestar story which
I just recently finished, and I have decided to go ahead and just try to chug along on this story.
My thoughts have been muddled on what to do with this story, whether to make it longer or shorter.
I think I have got that straightened out some. I have another chapter and a half written, but they
need to be edited still so it may be a little bit before I get them out. The only thing that will
put another pause on this story is my other story ideas. We will just have to say.

Also, I got a comment about Steve not being that realistic. I understand, but it's kind of
meld of a psychiatrist I have seen and my counselor. So, in my mind it is realistic, I'm sorry
if it comes off as fake or unnatural.

I'm also sorry for Hermione not being in this chapter, but she is FOR SURE in the next
chapter. I have her already written in. So, that will be happy day.

Sorry for the long Authors Note, I just thought I needed to explain. One way or the other I will
finish this story eventually. My obsessive compulsive nature won't let me just leave a story
without an ending, just the time it takes is up in the air.

Please Review, it makes my day!

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5. untitled
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Chapter 5

Harry lay in bed the next morning, looking at the blank page in front of him, trying to put
words on the page. He had been reliving his memories over and over since his session with Steve, so
that now it was as vivid as the day it happened. However, his mind was having a problem putting
worlds that matched his experience.

Harry tossed his notebook and pencil to the night stand, wanting to not think about his
assignment. He leaned his head back on the wall and closed his eyes, listening to Peter's
pencil as it moved across his pad of pater. Occasionally a pair of feet would walk past their open
door, sneakers squeaking on the linoleum hallway floors.

“Harry Potter?” an unfamiliar voice asked as she knocked on the open door.

Harry opened his eyes to see a women in her mid-twenties, looking between the two boys. Harry
raised his hand. “I'm Harry.”

“You have a visitor,” the woman said kindly.

Harry jumped out of his bed. “What?”

“A guest. I came to take you to the visitors lounge.”

If only Harry knew where that was, he would run there without looking back. Somebody had
probably come to get him out of here. Harry walked out of the room waiting for the woman to lead
the way.

She smiled, seeing his excitement, and set off down the hallway.

“I'm Abby. I am the community programmer. I put on events and I am in charge of visitors
day. First, I have a couple rules I need to inform you of since this is your first visitor.”

Harry was barely listening, not really caring about rules, but he did respond, sensing she
wanted some sort of sign that he understood. “Okay, what are they?”

Abby turned a corner, continuing her walk. “You are to stay in the lounge. You may walk outside,
but to do so you need to get permission. Visitors can stay until seven. Other than that there are
no time limits. You may go get meals with them, but once again you need to check with somebody.” At
this point she stopped outside of a closed door. “Also, please keep your voice at a reasonable
level, remember you are not the only with a visitor.”

“Got it,” Harry quickly responded.

“Great,” Abby replied enthusiastically. She opened the door for Harry and he leapt in, quickly
looking through the room, trying to find a familiar face. He spotted her in the corner, sitting in
an overstuffed chair with a Styrofoam cup of tea in hand.

“Hermione,” Harry exclaimed, running towards her.

Hermione set down her cup on the table next to her and stood up. Harry reached her and enveloped
her in a tight hug, happy to feel something familiar. He stepped back and looked at Hermione,
taking her features in.

She looked different. Her hair had been cut short, to a little bit above her shoulders. It was
not as frizzy as he remembered it, but softer and wavier. She didn't have make-up on, which at
least was something familiar. Her brown eyes had seemed more vivid in his memories. Now, they just
looked dull, weighed down with exhaustion and emotion.

“You cut your hair,” Harry stated, at a loss for any significant words. “It looks nice.”

Hermione smiled, sitting back down in her chair. “Thank you.”

Harry sat down in the seat of front of her. “So, are you here to help me get out? Where's
Ron?”

Hermione bit her lip, looking anxious from his questions. “Um, Ron is out on a mission from the
Order, and he won't be back for a while,” Hermione stated as if she had rehearsed this sentence
for a long time.

“Oh, I'm sorry Hermione,” Harry said sincerely, remembering how close Hermione and Ron had
been getting the last time he saw them. “Do you know what the mission is? Is he able to contact
you?”

Hermione shook her head, a tear slipped down her cheek. “No, he's not allowed any contact
and Moody is the only one that knows what his mission is.”

“Well, does that mean it's just you getting me out of here?”

“No, you are to say here,” Hermione answered, trying to sound strong.

“What do you mean?” Harry started to smile, thinking this must be a joke.

“Moody thinks it would be best if you stay here.”

It took everything in Harry to not start yelling madly. “Do I need to remind you that Voldemort
is out there? Which speaking of, how did I survive him again, and how did I end up here?”
Harry's voice was constrained and accusatory.

“We don't know Harry. All we know is that you came here from the hospital because the
Dursley's were your next of kin and were the ones that were called. They thought it was best if
you were sent here.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Of course they did.”

“As for Voldemort, he has been quiet as of recently. He is obviously up to something, but there
is nothing to be done except for the spies to try to figure out what he is up to. As to you being
here, Moody thinks this could be a blessing in disguise. Nobody would look for you here. We put
tons of protections here. There is nothing to be done right now that you would be able to help
with. This might be the safest place for you right now.”

“So, I'm just supposed to stay here? Do nothing?” Harry's voice was calmer, but still
confused.

“What else would you be doing? You would go crazy, wanting to do something to help. And not be
able to do anything, you would end up doing something stupid. At least if you go crazy here, they
can take care of that pretty easily.” Hermione meekly chuckled at her own attempt to joke.

Harry took a couple deep breaths, wanting to release his hostility, because he wasn't mad at
Hermione. He wasn't really that angry, he was just frustrated. “I just can't believe the
best thing for me to do is stay here. This is the last place I would ever think of me being
stuck.”

“I'm sorry, but that's what the adults decided. Look at this as a good thing. This is
time that you should spend looking after yourself for a while. You have been investing so much time
looking after everybody else, maybe this is an opportunity for you to look after yourself.”
Hermione had concern written all over face. “I'm not going to lie. I've been worried about
you, and I think time here will do you some good.”

“You wouldn't be saying that if you were the one that is stuck here, without a wand. Which
where is my wand?”

“We don't know. It wasn't where you faced Voldemort. We don't know, so you are going
to to just have to go without it for a while.”

“I can do that,” Harry whispered mildly, not wanting to make any trouble for Hermione.

There was a long pause while they both just looked around the room, avoiding each other's
eye contact. There were about five other groups of people in the room. Some were playing board
games while others were just sitting in little groups that were in the middle of discussions. Harry
checked his watch and saw that it was 11:30.

“Do you want to go get lunch?” Harry asked amiably.

Hermione perked up. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

Harry laughed, “you say that now.” He stood up and went over to one of the staff members, this
particular one was sitting by the door reading a book.

“Um, I'm Harry Potter. I was wondering if it was okay if my visitor and I go off to get
food?” Harry asked nervously.

The man looked up. “Yeah, of course. I'm just going to make a note of that in my handy dandy
clipboard.” He jotted something down on the paper on his lap, waving Harry and Hermione off.

As they left the room, Harry let out a breath as he just let their past conversation behind him,
determined to enjoy himself with Hermione. From what she had said, there was nothing he should be
worrying about but himself. He would have to just have to try to make a best out of this
situation.

They walked through the cafeteria and Hermione and Harry went through the line to get food.
Harry chuckled as he saw an expression on Hermione's face that he could imagine was reminiscent
of the look his own face wore when he caught sight of the food. They took their trays and sat down
at a small empty table, sitting across from each other.

Hermione was the one that broke the silence. “Okay, now I see why you want to leave. I don't
know what they are thinking. This food is not going to be helping the people with eating disorders.
Not to mention the food is enough to make anybody crazy.”

Harry laughed, an honest to God laugh. “Thank you. I thought the same thing when I tried the
food the first time.”

Hermione and him laughed together, feeling like there was nothing wrong with the world outside
these walls and they were just two friends sharing lunch.

Harry watched as Hermione's eyes lit up as she laughed, her eyes finally the golden brown
that he had so many memories of being spellbound by. It made him realize how selfish he had
been.

Once the laughter had subsided, Harry studied Hermione for a moment as she took a bit of the
food. “How have you been doing?”

Hermione put her fork down and let her head fall to her hand that was supported by her elbow on
the table. Her face relaxed, as she gave thought to the question. “I'm tired and I'm
worried.”

Harry took her hand that was lying on the table and squeezed it comfortingly. “Worried about
Ron.” It was more of a statement than a question.

Hermione's eyes widened. “And about you.”

Harry gave a knowing look to Hermione. “There's nothing wrong about you caring about Ron.
It's not like I have a problem with it.”

Hermione quickly defended herself. “I know, and that's good. It's a given that I'm
going to be worried about Ron, and not just because of my feelings for him,” Hermione almost had to
choke out the last part of the sentence. However, she continued on more strongly, “I just want you
to know I care about you as well. I just want you to be happy and I know this going to be a
difficult time for you, and I just worry.”

Harry felt the tug of guilt in his gut as he thought about this. Harry's voice softened
seriously. “You don't have to worry about me. I am not going to do anything crazy while I am
here. I will try to make the best of this.” Harry gave Hermione's hand a reassuring
squeeze.

Hermione's face showed relief flood her face. “I will sleep better knowing that.”

“Good. Now, how about lets go back and play a game. I am so going to kick your ass at
checkers.”

Hermione giggled, “I actually don't doubt that. I'm not very good at checkers.”

As they stood up, Harry gave Hermione a long hug, whispering a thank you in Hermione's ear.
As they separated to walk back the visitors room, Harry left his arm around Hermione's
shoulder, walking side by side.

A/N I know, another kind of short chapter. I kind of just had to get her introduced back into
the story, before I go on. Now, I feel like the story can move forward. Hermione won't be back
for a couple of chapters, but there will be talk of her, so that is good. I still don't know
how long I am going to make this story. I know the ending already, so I guess when I feel like I
have studied Harry's character enough, we will get to the ending. If you haven't noticed,
that is mainly the purpose of this story. We always think of superhero Harry, but really what kind
of person is he, measured by normal standards.

-->



6. untitled
-----------



Chapter 6

Harry walked back into the room and flopped down on his bed, lying flat as to stare at the
ceiling. It was 5:30 and Hermione just left.

“How was your visit?” Peter asked, not looking up from his notebook that he was writing in.

“It was good.”

“Well, Alex came by 15 minutes ago, wanting to go to dinner. I told him you had a visitor and he
said we should just come by when you got back, so we could get food together.”

“Sounds good,” Harry replied cheerfully as he got back out of the bed.

Peter concentrated for a moment, hurriedly finishing up his sentence. Jabbing the paper, he
finished off his sentence. He looked up at Harry and grinned getting out of bed. They both headed
out of their room, taking a right and going down a few doors to an open one. Alex was sitting on
his bed, listening to music on a portable cd player. The music could be heard by Peter and Harry
because Alex was blasting the music so loud on his head phones. Alex didn't notice them as he
was playing an invisible guitar and singing, “Foget about the dirty looks, for photographs your
boyfriend took, you say you read me like a book, but the pages are all torn and frayed. I'm
okay, I'm okay now, but you really need to listen to me because I'm telling you the truth,
I mean it, I'm okay, trust me, I'm not okay, I'm not okay, I mean it, I'm not
o-fucking-kay.” By this time, Alex stood up, and was heading banging to the music.

Doubled over, Harry and Peter laughed at Alex's enthusiasm in singing the song. When the
song ended, Alex straightened and opened his eyes. When he saw Peter and Harry chuckling, Alex face
broke out in a grin. He took off the headphones, tossing them on his table where his cd player was
sitting.

Alex didn't seem bothered by Harry and Peter's continual laugher. “What can I say?
Everybody needs to rock out now and again, not to mention that song is my life's theme
song.”

Harry looked at Alex skeptically. “Theme song?”

“Yeah, haven't you ever thought if there could be only one song that described your life,
what it would be?”

Peter responded, “I have. My song would be Eat It by Weird Al.”

Alex laughed. “Nice choice, very fitting.”

“Well, I've don't listen to a lot of music.”

“Are you kidding?” Alex's face was wide eyed and shocked.

“No, I have never really had the time to just listen to music.”

Alex closed his eyes, as if trying to calm himself. “Well, what I'm going to do is let you
have my cd player and I'm going to loan you some of my mix cds. Thus, we are going to start
your music education.”

“But aren't you going to need your player?”

Alex waved him off as he handed Harry his player. “I have two extra sets. I never want to be
without music. I'm even saving up for a mp3 player.” He then turned to started flipping through
a binder of cds, picking a cd and stacking them every now and again.

“Wow,” Harry replied looking at the growing pile of cds that Alex was picking out.

Harry and Peter just gave each other sidelong glances as Alex muttered to himself, going through
his music collection. After a few minutes Alex stood up up holding a stack of about 20 cds in hand.
He handed them to Harry.

“Um, thank you,” Harry said hesitantly.

“Now, that is just to start out. Once we find what your personal tastes are we can narrow it
down. Those are mainly just general mixes that I make. I like a lot of different types of music so
that is going to be a decent representations of a lot of different genres.”

“That's good,” Harry muttered.

Alex didn't seem to register Harry's uncertainty, as they exited the room and headed to
Harry and Peter's room to deposit the cds and player on Harry's bed before heading off the
dinner.

They walked down the hallway in silence, amiably walking at a slow pace. They went through the
lines and got their food and sat down at an empty table. Peter was the last to join them as he took
an extra minute to go through the other line to check out with the woman with the eating disorder
list.

Once he plopped down his tray next to Harry's, he didn't waste anytime before speaking.
“So, Harry, who was your visitor?”

Alex looked up from poking his food, his face being transformed from showing disgust to
curiosity. “Yes, who did you get to visit you?”

“My friend, Hermione.”

Alex raised his eyebrows. “Hermione, as in one third of the infamous trio?”

“That would be her,” Harry replied, not giving the conversation his full attention as he was
examining his food, trying to decide what it was.

“Is she going to be the girl the hero gets at the end of the story?” Alex asked coyly.

Harry looked confused. “What do you mean?”

Alex sighed, impatiently. “You know at the end of any decent adventure story, the hero is
rewarded with the girl of his dreams. Weren't you seeing some sort of girl towards the end of
the story. Not that Cho girl, but the other one.”

Harry blushed. “First, no, the girl you are thinking about is Ginny. Second, if Hermione heard
you talking about her as a reward...as if an object, she would hex you into next year.”

Peter laughed. “A feminist, huh?”

“You could say that.”

“What about this Ginny then?” Alex continued, wanting to know all the details on Harry's
love life.

“What about her?” Harry didn't know where to begin.

“Sexy?” Alex grinned.

“You could say that. She is very strong and capable,” Harry hesitated, not really able to find
words to describe Ginny.

“Capable? Sounds like you are describing a student. Who cares if they are capable, unless
it's about sex. Are you talking about sex?”

Harry coughed, as his drink went down the wrong tube. His face was a brilliant red. “Um, no
that's not what I was talking about.”

“Then you haven't had sex with her? You have been dating for a while haven't you?” Peter
obviously had been listening to Harry's story a little more closely than Alex.

“Not for that long. A few months. Then I left. We kind of put the relationship on hold while I
was away.”

Peter nodded sensibly. “That's probably the right thing to do.”

“Like hell it is,” Alex scoffed. “She could have at least gave you something to remember her by
for those long months a part.”

“It's not like that.”

“What? Your relationship isn't sexual?”

“Well, that and I don't know if she is the one I'm meant to be with.”

“You're seventeen. You are not supposed to know who you are supposed to be with yet.
It's all about playing the field. And sex can be with people other than your soul mate, unless
you are religious. Are you religious?” Alex wondered, not really sure what to make of Harry.

“No, it's not that. It's just, I just know that I am not meant to be with Ginny. There
is no question in my mind. I have a feeling there is somebody else out there that is waiting for
me. I felt that it would be unfair to make more out of the relationship with Ginny. I felt safe and
content with her, but I want to feel more. I guess putting the relationship on pause was more of my
way of putting an end to it. I guess it's a mute point anyways. I'm not going to survive
much longer to figure all of these things out.”

Alex shook his head at this. “Now, I am just confused. Then why not have sex with her? Your
story is full of inconsistencies. You are talking about somebody who is out there to make you
happy, then a couple sentences later talking about killing yourself. Dude, it just doesn't make
sense.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, I guess it doesn't.”

“Oh, yeah, I've been meaning to ask you. Are you on suicide watch? What did your counselor
say?” Peter asked hurriedly.

“I'm not going to be watched. They are putting a note in my file, but other than that they
aren't doing nothing. Steve said that he doesn't think I am going to kill myself while
I'm here, and when I get out in the real world, there is nothing really they can do.”

“Damn straight,” Alex announced laying his fork down on his tray.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Well, that' good news for the present. Are we ready to head back to
our rooms?”

Harry nodded and leaned back to stretch his arms. “Yeah, I guess. I need to write in my
journal.”

“Yeah, I should do some more writing before bed,” Peter added.

Alex snorted. “You two do that?”

“I thought I would give it a shot,” Harry replied, honestly.

“If it helps me get better, than I am all for it,” said Peter.

Alex stood up, picking up his tray. “I want to get out of here, but I am not stooping to their
level of therapy.”

Peter and Harry followed him as they picked up their trays. Peter went off to check out with the
lady, before returning quickly to deposit his tray with the rest of theirs on conveyor belt leading
to the kitchen.

As they started walking back to the room, Peter picked up the conversation where they had left
off. “Then how do you expect to get better?”

“By convincing them that I will never touch drugs again,” Alex answered matter of factly.

Peter shrugged. “Well, as long as you have a plan.”

“Damn straight,” Alex replied, enthusiastically.

The trio split up once they reached Peter and Harry's room, saying their good-byes until
tomorrow. Harry walked into the room, and went straight to his bed to lay on it. He saw the cds and
cd player on his bed and decided to put off writing in his journal a little while to listen to some
music. He piled the cds onto his nightstand and took the top one off the stack and looked at the
title. In scraggly handwriting, the words 'Sad Mix' were written on the the cd in permanent
marker. Written in minute handwriting around the edge of the cd were track listings. Harry decided,
that would be a good place to start and so he popped the cd in the player and pressed play. He
pulled the headphones onto his head, laying back in his bed and closing his eyes to focus on the
music.

He went went through numerous tracks that were indeed sad. He listened to very slow and sad
version of the famous song Hallelujah. Then there was a song that kept talking about Angels leading
people in. To where? Harry didn't quite understand. He listened to The Beatles as they sang Let
It Be. Even Harry, who was relatively uneducated in music recognized this song.

Harry's full attention wasn't captivated until one song in particular came on. He was
instantly intrigued by the first few guitar notes on the song. When the smooth male voice came on,
Harry forgot his surroundings as he lost himself in the song. While at first quiet and unassuming,
as the song pushed further it was pulled into a louder rock section. Harry was captivated by
it's simple lyrics and had to listen to it again to grasp it's full meaning. This was his
song.

Harry opened the cd player to look at the cd again and find out what the song was called. He
squinted at the tiny print, before finding track 8, Somewhere a Clock is Ticking by Snow Patrol.
Harry closed the cd top again, and flipped back to the song to listen to it once again, recognizing
it as his song.

I've got this feeling that there's something that I missed
(I could do most anything to you...)
Don't you breathe
Something happened, that I never understood
You can't leave
Every second, dripping off my fingertips
Wage your war
Another soldier, says he's not afraid to die
Well I am scared
In slow motion, the blast is beautiful
Doors slam shut
A clock is ticking, but it's hidden far away
Safe and sound

As the the song finished up, Harry's thoughts were joggled loose as he finally felt like he
could write about him killing Bellatrix. Putting that song on repeat, he picked up his notebook and
pencil and started to scribble away, finally able to put words to his thoughts.

*I killed. That is the hardest sentences I have ever written in my life, and it is only two
words, seven letters, two syllables. Yet, I can't seem to come to terms with the meaning behind
those simple words. Somebody is dead because of me, and there is nothing I can do to change
it.*

*I remember the moment it dawned on me, that I had killed. It had been a few minutes after the
fact when I realized that this person was an aunt, a sister, and a daughter.*

*'What had I done?' I remember thinking. I remember for a few minutes, trying to
distinguish whether or not she had deserved to die. After all, my parents hadn't deserved to
die, but they were killed anyways, for the sake of a cause. What made me and my cause any
different? After many reassurances from my friends I did come to term with the fact that I killed
somebody.*

*However, this wasn't the hardest obstacle to over come. What still haunts me to this day
is my lack of remorse on killing. I feel like I should feel worse. And because I don't feel
bad, I have so many doubts on whether I am that different from Voldemort. If I have no serious
qualms of killing, then it seems I have lost the humanity within me, which is losing what
distinguishes myself from Voldemort.*

*As for the consequences of my action, there have been none. Except for the fact that I have
been having a moral crisis and Voldemort has one less henchman.*

*However, in the future, I feel in my gut that I shouldn't kill these people. By killing
needlessly, I will be stooping to Voldemort's level. If I go on killing without pause, I will
end up like Voldemort, and that is not what I want. I need to fight in a way that I can live with.
A way that allows me to sleep at night. And although I may not feel as much remorse about this one
killing as I should, I know I would feel bad for future deaths. It's not how I want to live my
life.*

With that, Harry closed the notebook and put it on the nightstand. He stood up and went to his
dresser to pull out a pair of pajamas. He closed the door, before quickly changing. He got back
into bed and turned the light off that was screwed to the wall over his bed.

“Goodnight Peter,” Harry said softly, stealing a glance at Peter who was back to drawing on his
notebook.

“'Night Harry,” Peter replied, not looking up from the his picture.

Harry smiled, laying back onto the bed. He pulled the headphones back on, giving his song a
listen to once more before he went to sleep.

A/N Well, I wanted do a little more with Peter and Alex, so there it is. I am big on music being
able to describe how you feel, better than words can sometimes. And I am constantly giving my life
a theme song, so that is where that kind of came from. The songs that were mentioned are as follow.
Alex's song was I'm Not Okay (I Promise) by My Chemical Romance. The songs on the 'Sad
Mix' were Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley, Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World, then obviously Let It Be
by The Beatles and Somewhere a Clock is Ticking by Snow Patrol. I high recommend all of those
songs, especially that last one. It is a brilliant song and I think it really is a theme song for
what Harry has to go through. The music is amazing. Give it a go.

Well, as always, reviews are appreciated and thank you for all of the great reviews I have
gotten. I love them!

-->



7. untitled
-----------



Chapter 7

“What do you want to talk about today, Harry?” Steve asked nicely, leaning back in a lime, green
bean bag chair.

Harry rubbed the fabric of his own tye-dye chair, feeling the beans between his fingers. He
finally opted to take the bean bag chairs and he was happy for that. They were very comfortable,
although a little noisy whenever he decided to reposition himself in the slightest way. “I
didn't know I could choose what we talked about.”

Steve smiled. “We always have a choice.”

Harry didn't know if that was exactly true, but he didn't feel like saying anything. “I
don't really care what we talk about.”

Steve nodded. “Fair enough. Well, first I just wanted to know if you did the assignment that I
asked you to do? I'm not going to be mad if you didn't. I just want to know how easy it
was, if you did it, that is.”

“I did it. It was actually really hard to do. I mean, I could see what I wanted to write, so
easily in my head. It was so vivid. But, I just wasn't able to put it down into words.”

“What changed?”

“This song actually. I was listening to some music that Alex had wanted me to listen to, so I
could find a theme song for me.”

“Theme song?” Steve chuckled.

“Yeah, Alex said that there are songs that just describe what you are going through, and they
become your theme songs. I didn't really know what he was talking about, but when I was
listening to this cd, I stumbled across this song that was my theme song. I knew exactly what Alex
meant once I heard the song.”

“And the song helped you to write?”

“It was just like once I heard the song, the words just came to me. I was just able to write it
all down.”

“That's good. Never underestimate the therapeutic value of music,” Steve told Harry, while
picking up his yellow legal pad that had been sitting on his lap.

“I guess so,” Harry replied, eying the notepad. “I was just wondering, what do you write on
that?”

Steve didn't hesitate before answering, “just notes about you, sometimes for your file,
sometimes to remind myself of some things.”

“Huh?”

“Well, sometimes you may say something, and I want to remind myself to ask you something, or to
bring up a new topic. For the most part, it's to keep my mind clear so I can focus on what you
are saying. It's hard to council somebody, when you have million thoughts going through your
head at once. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good,” Steve said happily. “Ok, so I had a couple ideas of some topics for today, and I thought
we could start out with maybe talking about your friends. I remember you talking about Ron and
Hermione. I am assuming they are your closest friends?”

“Yup, they are my best friends.”

“Great, let's start off with Hermione. I heard that she came and visited you on
Saturday.”

“You heard?” Harry raised his eyebrows, smiling.

Steve laughed. “You caught me. I checked the visitor log.”

“Very subtle,” Harry muttered, as he leaned further back into the bean bag chair.

“So, tell me about her?”

Harry tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought for a few minutes. Once
again, he could picture Hermione so vividly in his mind, every little detail in place from her
frizzy hair, to the golden fleck in her left eye. But, what were the words for her?

Harry took a deep breath and just dove in. “Well, she's smart.”

Steve nodded, motioning for Harry to continue.

“And she's stubborn. When she thinks she is right, which is more often than not, she will
stick to her guns and not step down. In most people, this comes off as arrogant, but with
her...it's just...good. I mean, she is right most of the time, and she doesn't want to step
down, not because she hates being wrong, although that is true, but because she doesn't want
anybody to get hurt or anything bad to happen.”

“Sounds like she has a good soul.”

“She does. And she is loyal. She has *never* left my side. She is always looking out for
me, when nobody else is. I can't even count how many times I would have died or gotten hurt if
it weren't for her.”

“Wow, that's a good friend,” Steve whispered.

“I always felt that she was too good of a friend for me. I have been so impatient with her
sometimes, and I would fight with her, when all she wants is to keep me safe. Then I think of all
the times I have put her in danger, sometimes I feel like my heart stops. How could I do that to
her? She should be off with normal friends, having a peaceful life. The next thing I know, I have
convinced myself that I should run away or tell her to go away.”

“I don't think that would work with her. It's her choice to stand by you, and it sounds
like she wouldn't have it any other way.”

Harry smiled, “of course it wouldn't work. She would just get angry with me for being so
self-deprecating and to get over it. And that makes me glad. I never have admitted it to anybody,
but there is a part of me that is is so happy that she won't leave me. I know it's selfish,
but I can't imagine my life without her. I know it just wouldn't be a life worth living.
Not that it matters, I would probably be dead without her.”

“There is nothing selfish about wanting your friends to stay by your side. That is what your
friends are there for. I imagine you would do the same thing for her.”

“And more,” Harry added emphatically as he stared out the window at the few trees that were
blowing on the blustery autumn day.

“Do you love her?” Steve asked softly.

“Yes,” Harry responded before even thinking about what to say. He snapped his face back to Steve
who was scribbling something down on the paper in front of him. “I love her as a friend.”

Steve looked up at Harry, studying his face. “There are no romantic feelings at all?”

Harry thought about it, searching his feelings. “Not really no, she's dating Ron.”

Steve nodded, accepting this. “What about Ron? We have talked a lot about Hermione, but
let's talk about Ron.”

A sudden sadness overwhelmed Harry. He looked away from Steve and stared back out the
window.

“What's wrong Harry?”

“It's just, I don't know where Ron is or how he is doing. Hermione said he went out to
do some mission, and she doesn't know what it is, or anything about how he is doing.”

“I see. So you are worried about him?”

“Yeah I am. You know, he was the first friend I ever had?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he was the first person to just be my friend. Although we had our differences, which I
guess is to be expected from being friends so long, but he was so much fun to hang out with. He
would never let me get too serious.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, while the weight of the world was on my shoulders and I was worried about some new evil
or another, he would always be there cracking a joke, making sure I laughed every now and again. He
knew how serious everything was, but he thought that was no reason to be completely overwhelmed by
the seriousness of it all.”

“He was wise then. You can't let the bad things control your life. You have to keep
living.”

“He made sure I did that, keep living.”

“So tell me more about him?”

Harry hesitated, still feeling the sadness that came from talking about Ron. He could be
anywhere. He could be dead. There would be no way of knowing. And maybe if Ron was with him, Ron
would be safer. Harry would help prevent anything bad from happening to Ron.

“Harry?”

Harry snapped his head back down, glancing at Steve.

“I was losing you again. Is it too hard to talk about Ron?”

Harry swallowed, noticing how difficult this simple task was. He nodded, not making a sound.

Steve gave a quick once over, before moving on quickly. “That's alright. Let's see.
There was something earlier that I made note of. You seemed hesitant to believe me when I said that
a person always has a choice.”

Harry considered Steve's words for a second. “I don't know. The whole idea of having a
choice, seems idealistic to me.”

“What do you mean?” Steve narrowed his eyes in thoughtful contemplation.

“It just seems that I don't have a choice. I feel like I was destined for my life, and there
is nothing I can do about it.”

“Are you sure about that? Couldn't you have run away? You could have hid from the world in
on some remote island in Caribbean.”

“No I couldn't have,” Harry stated firmly.

“Why?”

“Because, people would have died.”

“People have already died,” Steve stated softly.

Harry looked around the room frantically, feeling like the walls were closing in on him. “More
people would have died.”

Steve shook his head. “You can't stop death. You can't carry that responsibility.”

“I don't,” Harry gasped.

“Then why do you blame yourself for people's deaths?”

Harry's breath was ragged as he clutched his knees, trying to fold himself into as small as
space as possible. “Because, it is my fault. If it weren't for me, Sirius would be alive, so
would Dumbledore, and my parents, and Ron.” Harry stopped suddenly, thinking about what he
said.

Steve leaned forward quickly. “Ron? Is Ron dead?”

Harry closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “No, I feel like he is on this really dangerous
mission and I'm not there to help him. I am worried that he is going to die, and if he does I
can add him to the list of people that would still be alive if I had never been born.”

“Ok, let's just for a moment indulge your self-centered notion that you are the cause for
all of those people's deaths. What good does it really do to wallow in this self-deprecating
manner. Hermione wouldn't want that.”

Harry smiled meekly. “That is true. She doesn't like it when I start thinking these
thoughts.”

Steve nodded, speaking softly. “She has got a good reason. No good comes of it. You just have to
let it go. Those were out of your control.”

“But, I thought you said we always have a choice.”

“So I did. You do have a choice. But, sometimes no matter what choice is chosen, the outcome is
the same.”

Harry shook his head. “Now, I think you are making stuff up.”

Steve laughed loudly. “Maybe, I am. You never know.”

Harry chuckled. “That means I can't believe anything you say.”

“You should always question any advice you are given, even mine.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. Well, that's pretty much all the time we have today. I feel like we have talked about
some really important stuff and made some real headway in your case.”

“That's good, I guess,” Harry replied hesitantly.

“Now, I have a conference to go to for the next few days and I won't be back until Saturday,
so I'm sorry I will have to cancel our sessions for the week.”

“Okay,” Harry said, standing up out of the bean bag chair, which was considerably awkward. He
walked over and opened the door. At the last minute he turned around and said, “I guess I will see
you next Monday.”

“See you next Monday,” Steve called out, still sitting in his bean bag chair.

Harry closed the door behind him and looked down the hallway, taking a deep breath. He felt
exhausted. Something kept nagging at him during the whole session, but he still didn't know
what it was. Harry shook his head and let out another deep breath, letting the nagging feeling fall
away from him. He stepped down the hallway, determined to enjoy the rest of his day.

A/N-So here is another chapter. Right now, tentatively, I have two to three more chapters to go.
It just all depends. I am definitely going to wind down the story soon. Once again, don't worry
about absences, I will finish the story. I am determined. I love the ending I have planned for the
story. I hope you enjoyed, and please read and review. I love to hear what you liked and what you
didn't like. The only way to improve is to know what does and doesn't work. But, please be
constructive. Thanks for all the support. I really appreciate it.

-->



8. untitled
-----------

Chapter 8



Harry walked down the hallway, heading towards the visiting room to meet with Hermione. He had
been at the rehab center for almost two months now, Harry had been feeling a vague sense of peace
that he had not felt in a long time. Although he still had this nagging concern for Ron, he was
happy with his life at the moment. He couldn't help but feel that everybody had been right all
along that he needed a rest.



He had been spending a lot of time writing in his journal everyday. He had already filled one of
the composition books they had given him, and was well into his second one. Usually he wrote while
listening to one of the numerous cds that Alex had lent him. Peter would be sitting on his bed,
usually working on some art piece.



Harry had also taken up reading novels. It was interesting to read books that did not deal with
magic and he really enjoyed perusing the centers library collection. They had numerous books, and
Harry really enjoyed being transported to a place that didn't include Voldemort and the many
things associated with him. He had brought this up with Hermione on one up Hermione's visits,
and it turned out the latest book he had read, Fahrenheit 451, was also a book Hermione had read
and was actually one of her favorites books.



00000000000000



“I can't believe you have read Fahrenheit 451 as well!” Harry exclaimed after Hermione had
confessed she had read the book many times.



“Well, it's a classic novel,” Hermione, responded from her seat across from him.



“Maybe in the muggle world, but I have never heard of it in the magic world.”



“Which is a shame. It's a book that transcends cultures, everybody should read it. The
themes are universal.”



“What do you mean?”



“Censorship of information is something that appears in the world. Everybody should be wary of
censorship and be aware of where that could lead, to a world that has no original thought or
idea.”



“You mean like when Fudge was the minister.”



“Sure, but it happens everywhere in the world,” Hermione nodded slowly, emphasizing her
words.



00000000000000



He turned the corner and looked into the window to the visiting room. He saw Hermione sitting in
an overstuffed chair writing in her composition notebook furiously. Harry had never noticed how
much she enjoyed writing in her journal, but every time he saw her, she had her notebook with her.
There was so much about her that he seemed to not know, like he was getting to know her for the
first time. The two of them took a walk after playing cards with Peter and Alex and it was amazing
to hear some of the things about her that he did not know.



000000000000000



Harry and Hermione were walking around the grounds enjoying a rare, calm November day. They came
across an empty wooden bench and each sat down on it. To Harry's surprise Hermione laid down on
the bench, putting her head in his lap like she had done this a million times. Her head was turned
away from him and her hair was falling across his legs. The pale skin of her neck was enticing and
Harry felt as sudden urge to kiss the tender skin.



They stayed like this for a few minutes before Harry had to distract himself from her neck and
spoke up. “How have you been doing?”



Hermione sighed, “okay, I guess.”



“You seem worried. What is it? Is it Ron?”



Hermione shook her head. “No, it's just that my mom hasn't been well. She's sick
with pneumonia.”



Harry gasped, “is she going to be okay?”



Hermione nodded. “Yes, the doctor says she has gone through the worst of it. But it has been
kind of tiring for my dad and me who have had to take care of her.



This gave Harry pause. He was so amazed by how selfless Hermione was. She was always taking care
of and worrying about other people. Harry had to wonder who was taking care of her. He surely
wasn't. If anything he has been very selfish lately. Her dad was worrying about his wife and
Ron was off on some mission. Harry rationalized that this realization is why he pulled
Hermione's hair off her face and started to stroke her curly hair, reveling in the softness of
her curls. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed.



“I'm so sorry Hermione. Is there anything I can do?” Harry asked, knowing full well there
was little he could do pent up here, but he had to say it anyway.



Hermione patted his arm, appreciating the sentiment. “Nah, there's nothing you can do. My
dad has it under control.” Hermione's hand went back to twisting a delicate silver ring on her
right ring finger.



Harry noticed the ring for the first time. “That's a pretty ring. Is it from Ron?”



Hermione hesitated a moment, before speaking dreamily, “no, it's from my boyfriend.”



Harry puzzled over this. “But I thought you and Ron...”



“No, I just don't have those feelings for Ron.” A tear slipped out at the mention of
Ron's name. Harry saw that Hermione was upset and so he tried to change the subject. “Can I see
the ring?”



Hermione took off the ring and handed it to Harry. He examined the small ring. It was simple,
but beautiful., much like Hermione. There was a pearl at the center of the ring, which in itself
was silver. The metal weaved around the small pearl intricately to wind into a thin band. Harry
grabbed Hermione's hand and smoothly placed the ring on her finger, where it belonged.



“Tell me about him.” Harry whispered.



Hermione paused as if to collect her for thoughts. “Well, he lived just a block away from me for
as long as I can remember. We went to school and he was my best friend.”



“Until you went to Hogwarts?”



“Of course.”



“But, even then he and I have always staid close and I feel like I can tell him anything. He
gave this to me for my birthday.” Hermione started to softly cry, staring at the ring. “Anyways he
is an amazing person. He is really smart, not book smart, but something else. And he is really
funny in a way that he doesn't notice.”



Harry felt a small tug as Hermione talked so highly of this guy. Harry wanted Hermione to think
of Harry in these terms. This surprised Harry and he wanted to analyze these feelings more, but he
knew now was not the time, so he continued to run his hands through her hair and listened to
Hermione talk.



“He sounds like a great guy.”



“He is,” Hermione responded softly, staring happily at the ring on her finger.



00000000000000000



Harry's heart performed a small flip flop when he saw Hermione's bright smile as she saw
him. He couldn't help but feel a small bit of satisfaction knowing that the brought that smile
out of her. He walked over and sat down across from Hermione, letting himself soak in the feeling
of happiness and contentment at being around Hermione.



“How are you doing?” Harry asked.



“Great,” Hermione chirped brightly.



“And how is your mother doing?”



Hermione smiled. “She's doing much better. She's out of bed and now able to take small
walks around the yard.”



“I'm so relieved to hear that,” Harry told her sincerely.



“So, I brought us a pack of cards and I thought I could teach you rummy.”



“Sounds like a plan,” Harry replied gamely.



The two sat companionably for the next hour, playing hand after hand of rummy.



“I have to pop into the restroom,” Hermione announced, placing her hand of cards on the table
and getting up. “I'll be right back.”



Harry nodded and sat back in his chair. He looked forward and saw Hermione's notebook
sitting at the edge of the table, a pen sticking out of the middle to mark her place. Harry knew he
shouldn't be even contemplating opening the notebook, but there was some overwhelming urge that
he needed to read her journal. Maybe he wanted to know more about the mysterious boyfriend, or
maybe he wanted to know more about what her true feelings for her. Or maybe he just wanted to know
the unseen thoughts and feelings of the complicated Hermione. He didn't know exactly which one
of these reasons was true. All he did know was at the moment it was imperative that he read that
journal.



He opened the notebook to the current page and mainly there were musings on Hermione's
relief that her mother was making huge progress in her recovery. Harry flipped back a couple of
pages and saw an entry that was dated precisely two weeks ago written after the visit in which
Hermione and Harry went for a walk and ended up up having the conversation about her boyfriend on
the bench.



00000000000000000



*November 2*



*I just got back from visiting Harry at the rehab center and if I'm being completely
honest, I don't know how much more of this I can take. It's been almost two months and
Harry shows no sign of coming out of this delusion.*



*Today I laid my head in his lap like I had done a million times, and he even stroked my hair
like he used to do. I had hoped that he might be remembering but then he started to ask about my
promise ring and I had to pretend I had another boyfriend. I described Harry as my boyfriend, but
he didn't seem to make the connection. And every time he brings up Ron, it hurts so much. Harry
doesn't remember the accident and that Ron is dead. Sometimes it just seems like too much to
keep up with this charade. But I could never abandon him. I just love his o much, but I wish that
he could come and we could try to put back together our lives.*



000000000000000



Harry felt the walls closing in around him and all of a suddenly it was very difficult to
breathe. It felt like his body was shutting down, freezing in one position. And just like that,
images came rushing back he remembered. He remembered all of it.



A/N: But what did he remember? For that you will have to wait for the next chapter which should
be out really soon. I have almost the entire story written, but I have yet to type it up. I spend
time in class when I should be listening to lectures on multicultural education writing this story.
Thank you for those who are still around to finish the story, and I will finish it within the next
couple of weeks. I have to. It's killing me that it's taken so long to write, and I feel
like the story has suffered because of it. I am sorry for that. I am trying to keep the story
together, at least enough to give you readers closure. This chapter is very short and choppy, but I
needed it and hopefully the next chapter will be a little meatier. Expect the next chapter in the
next week or two, as I get time to type it up.



9. untitled
-----------



Chapter 9

The day was bright and beautiful, one of the last true summer days before autumn rolled in.
Harry blinked at the light that was flooding the room, the sun having no inhibitions considering
the curtains were wide open. He vaguely remembered his mother coming, opening the curtains, and
telling him he had slept long enough and that breakfast would be ready soon. Harry had mumbled
something to show he had heard her and rolled back over, trying to go back to sleep. He was able to
doze for a few minutes before the smell of bacon floated up from the kitchen downstairs. This
caused a dilemma. Should he get up out of bed to enjoy the homemade breakfast that his mother and
father had made, or he could enjoy his comfortable bed and sleep longer on one of the last days he
was free to do so before school started. He knew the answer.

Harry grumbled as he literally rolled out of his bed onto the blush grey carpet below. Harry
shook his head as he stood up stumbling to the bathroom, trying to avoid the edges of any pointy
furniture which was hard, considering he hadn't put his contacts on. Once Harry was in the
bathroom he quickly took a shower and put on his glasses, too lazy to shove things in his eyes,
before descending the stairs. His mother was sitting at the kitchen table, set for four, with the
newspaper open. She read intently, her auburn hair falling forward as she munched on a bit of
toast. His dad was standing at the counter buttering one final piece of toast before carrying the
plate over to the table where he sat, next to his wife, picking up a section of the paper Lily had
discarded. Harry sat down at the table and grabbed some bacon and eggs before pouring himself a
glass of orange juice.

Lily put down her paper and smiled softly at her son. "I'm glad you decided to join us.
I just wish your brother would do the same." This last part she raised her voiced and looked
overhead.

After she was done speaking there was some swearing followed by slow, deliberate footsteps that
made their way down the stairs. Emerged was a slight 16 year old with bleached hair that was
usually spiked meticulously but now fell flat from a night of sleep.

"Happy mom?" the boy muttered groggily, but in good nature.

"Ecstatic Draco," Lily responded.

At this point James looked up from his paper and glanced from one son to the other. "When
are you going to get over this ridiculous rebellious stage and let your hair grow out?" James
asked, not accusing, but more curious.

"Oh James, just let him be," Lily patted her husbands arm.

"I'm just saying he has really nice hair and I do not think it should be
bleached."

"You're just saying that because it's like yours," Draco replied.

James shrugged, "handsome is handsome."

The family laughed and fell into the familiar breakfast routine, each talking about plans for
the day and any interesting stories they had.

"Oh dad, I was wondering if you could take me into the city soon?" Harry
questioned.

"I don't know. What do you need?"

"Well, Hermione's birthday is coming up and I want to get her something special."
Harry had run out of normal ideas of presents, making her mix cds, giving her books and movies. He
wanted to find something different.

"What are you looking for?" Lily asked.

"I don't know exactly. I want something special. I was thinking maybe a promise
ring."

"That sounds like a good idea," Lily approved.

"Well," James though out loud, "I did have some stuff I needed to drop at the
office this weekend. I could run there today if you wanted."

"I was going to hang out with Ron today. Could he come along?"

“Sure, why not? I can drop you two off downtown and I could go to work for a couple hours, then
we could meet up somewhere to have dinner."

"I might join the group. I need to do a little shopping London as well. Do you want to
round off the group Draco and join us?" Lily asked her youngest.

Draco shook his head. "I would but I actually have to get to work in a couple
hours."

"Okay, well Harry why don't you ring up Ron and let's plan on leaving around
one."

"Sounds good."

000000000000000000000000

"What about this ring?"

"Nah, too gaudy. What about this ring?"

Nuh-uh, that's too boring."

Harry and Ron were standing over a jewelry counter in a small shop in downtown London. James had
dropped the three of them off and they made plans to meet at a small restaurant at five. Lily had
left the two boys heading off in the direction of a bookstore. She was in search of a rare book
that the library didn't have and she hoped some used book stores might have it.

Harry and Ron looked over the selection, walking down the counter, trying find a ring that would
fit Hermione, however all the rings were either too flashy, expensive, or boring. Harry was about
to give up when he saw a clearance table at the side of the store. On the table was a wooden case
with a worn velvet interior that had rings poking from it. Harry glanced at the rings, a lot of
them flawed in some manner which intrigued him. His eyes caught a silver ring that stood out at
him. It had a small pearl in the center with the metal wrapping around the pearl in an intricate
design. The reason the ring was with the clearance items was because the silver was dull and
scratched. This did not dissuade Harry. The ring itself was stunning and Harry felt Hermione would
like the oldness of the ring and how it had character. He purchased it on the spot, confident he
had found her the perfect present.

0000000000000000000000000000

The rain poured down from the clouds that had suddenly flown in from the coast. The windshield
wipers zoomed back and forth across the windshield, swiping water away that was completely replaced
as soon as it was gone. Even with the dismal weather, the car was filled with the sounds of
merriment, a classic rock station played upbeat music. Lily and James were in the front seats
debating whether or not The Beatles music actually lived up to their fame. There was much laughing
as each brought up more and more ridiculous arguments. Harry and Ron were listening from the
backseat, laughing as they played a card game.

Out of nowhere the car was flooded with light and Harry blacked out.

00000000000000000

There were screams, but they were far away. Slowly opening his eyes, Harry looked around. His
whole body was protesting in pain. Harry reached, feeling for the sourced of the blood that was
trickling down his cheek. He had a gash on the side of his head, but all around there were no other
signs of injury.

He looked forward and saw his mother leaning against the door. Harry didn't see her
breathing. Looking over, Harry saw his father leaning forward, his head on the steering wheel. The
right side was completely caved in from the impact of a large truck that had t-boned them. Harry
looked over to see Ron slumped over, half laying down. There was blood everywhere, so much that it
was hard to discern where it was coming from. Harry reached over to try to keep the blood from
leaving Ron's body, but he couldn't find a specific wound. Harry stopped when he actually
touched Ron's skin and felt how cold it was. Harry drew his hand up to Ron's neck and felt
for a pulse. There was none.

A slam outside of the car drew Harry's attention to outside of the vehicle. Harry looked to
see a man stumble outside of the truck that had smashed their own car. Harry did not know exactly
what he was doing but he knew he couldn't let this man get away. Harry had to push all his
weight into opening his door, but he was finally able to do so. His body was in a mass of pain, but
he barely registered the pain. He stumbled to the front of the car where the driver was standing.
He looked around as if debating what to do. He froze when he saw Harry.

Harry was taken aback by how inhuman this man looked. He was completely bald and his skin was
sallow and pale under the harsh headlights of numerous stopped vehicles. What was most
disconcerting was his eyes which were cold and gleaming red from the brake lights of a vehicle.

People were converging on the accident to try to help and there was the distant sounds of sirens
rushing to the scene. Harry barely noticed any of this, all he could see was the blankness of the
man's eyes. Then in a split second, something snapped and Harry lunged at this man, his hands
reached out to grab a hold of the man's neck. The guy was taken aback by this action and fell
easily to the pavement. Harry straddles the man and held on tightly to the man's throat. Once
he smelled the alcohol on the mans breath, Harry put all his strength into strangling the man.

The man struggled some, he grabbed a piece of glass and tried to swipe at Harry. He was able to
cut Harry's arm and jabbed the glass down Harry's forehead in a jagged formation. He
wasn't able to do much before he started to lose consciousness. Harry felt throat muscles
strain against his fingers and a pulse slow. Another few seconds and he would be dead and that
suddenly dawned on Harry and he realized he was about to take a mans life in cold blood. Before
Harry could think about this someone came up from behind Harry and grabbed him, pulling him off the
man.

Harry struggled violently, trying to free himself. His eyes still locked on the guy and saw the
man move and slowly struggle to his feet. He looked forward and met Harry's eyes and smiled a
malicious smile. Harry wanted to finish what he started but the arms around him were too strong. He
let himself he dragged back, and all of sudden his body felt weak from the exertion and the pain he
was experiencing. He slipped from consciousness, with three thoughts consecutively going through
his head. They're all dead, I couldn't defeat him, and now I am going to die.

A/N-I know some of you probably think I'm crazy, delusional you may say, but I knew that
when I was writing this story. There will be more of an explanation in the final chapter, which
I'm halfway done writing. Go ahead and flame me for how ridiculous this concept of Harry being
delusional is, but it's my story and this is what I've had planned from the beginning. I
will try to wrap everything up in the next few weeks. Please do tell me what you think, one way or
the other. Constructive criticism is always helpful. Thank you so much for those who are sticking
this story out. I appreciate your loyalty.

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10. untitled
------------



Chapter 10

Harry's body started to convulse, and he had the sudden strong feeling that he was going to
throw up. A voice, filled with concern, called his name. He ignored this, all of it, and he ran out
of the room. He darted down the hallway, going in the opposite direction than where the puppies
were pointing. He crashed into his room and was relived to find it empty. He closed the door and
fell onto his bed.

Harry could not stop his body from heaving, as if he was trying to expel part of him. He tried
to calm down, but images were running through his head, a mix from his real life and his delusional
life. Killing the man on the road, killing Bellatrix, kissing Ginny, kissing Hermione, dinner with
the Dursleys, dinner with his family, fighting with Draco as a brother, fighting with Draco as an
enemy. Ron covered in blood, there was no other image of him. Harry could smell the pungent odor of
blood, and his hands still felt sticky and heavy from the blood. Harry wanted to throw up, but his
stomach was empty so all he did was dry heave. Finally he collapsed in sobs, curled in a ball.

Harry stayed like this until he heard the door open. “Go away Peter!” Harry croaked.

The footsteps grew closer and he felt his bed shift as someone sat down. “Oh, honey,” a soft
female voice spoke.

Harry turned his head to look at the woman, wondering if he was stuck in another delusion.
“Mom?”

Lily smiled down at her son and stroked his face, wiping tears from his face.

“I thought you were...” Harry couldn't even say the word.

“I know, I couldn't visit you because it would have shocked you out of your other world and
the doctor said that we must avoid it to see if you came out of it yourself. They called me
immediately once you realized.”

“Does that mean Ron is dead?” Harry couldn't keep the hope out of his voice.

“I'm sorry dear,. “ Lily let her own tears fall. “Ron was dead when the ambulances arrived
and dad died on the ambulance ride. He had a severed an artery.” Lily was sobbing as she spoke
these words.

Harry was so confused. He didn't know what to feel anymore. He went from having parents, to
believing they had died many years ago, to thinking they had died a few weeks ago, to seeing his
mother alive and hoping that his father and friend were still alive. His mother sensed this and
held him in her arms, even though he had to be taller than her, however she did not hesitate in
pulling Harry's upper body into her lap and cradling him, letting both of them cry for the life
that had been lost. Harry let himself relax in her arms and held onto her as he cried. He cried
until he was so tired that he fell asleep in her arms.

000000000000000000

The beans rustled as Harry sat down on the bean bag chair. He yawned because he was still drowsy
from waking up. His mother had awaken him to tell him that Steve needed to see him. They were going
to let him go home this evening but he had to have a session with Steve to make sure that Harry was
okay to go home.

“So how are you doing Harry?” Steve asked, his voice filled with concern.

Harry glared at Steve. “How do you think I'm doing? The world I thought was real for the
last two months is a lie.”

“I honestly couldn't guess what you are going through. Do you know how rare what happened to
you is? It's rare enough when people shock themselves into forgetting certain information.
Sometimes people will make themselves believe that somebody is still alive or that something
didn't happen, like an accident that did happen. But there has never been a reported medically
substantive case where somebody created a whole other reality as a defense mechanism. I mean the
story you came up with sounds like an elaborate fantasy novel.”

Harry scowled. “Well, I'm glad my insanity is helping the medical community so much.”

Steve seemed to realize how he had sounded and immediately regretted his treatment of Harry.

“What I care about is how you are doing. If you want to get out of here, you have to convince me
it will be okay to send you home.”

“I don't know how I am feeling. I'm just so confused. I mean I am so happy that my mom
is alive, but then my dad and Ron are dead, and I feel like wallowing in that grief.”

“Do you feel any conflict between still believing in the magical world and this real world?”

“I don't know, not really. It's like when you have a very vivid dream and you believe it
is real until you wake up. There's a jolt where you realize that what you had thought was real
but that fades as your real life comes in focus. It's only been a few hours, but it is already
fading. I mean, I imagine I will always remember that world, but I don't feel conflict with the
real world.”

“I'm glad to hear that, but believe me you will be coming back many times to continue our
sessions. When we are saying that we are making sure you are ready to go home, we are checking that
you not a safety risk to yourself or your family.”

“I won't do anything. I'm sad, I'm very sad, but I know down the road I will feel
better and I have people worth living for.”

“I'm very happy to hear that.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“How did I come up with this other world?”

“Honestly it's kind of a mystery to me and the 20 or so researchers who are watching your
case. The brain is still quite a mystery to us. What I can say is that some of what you made up was
part of your subconscious, like you believing your parents might be dead. To make it easier for
yourself, you killed them in your subconscious. Knowing Ron was dead, you tried to keep him alive.
Your brother and you fight a lot, so you made him your nemesis. You viewed the reason this all
happened was because you are romantically involved with Hermione, the trip to find something for
Hermione, so you coupled her with Ron.”

“My subconscious really did that?”

“I don't know if that was your exact thought process, I'm just guessing, but it could
have been. I can't make all the connections between the two lives, some could be just random
thoughts that were in your head while others could very well hold some deeper symbolic meaning only
you will be able to figure it out for sure.”

00000000000000

Harry left Steve's with a strange sense of calm. He knew things weren't going to be
easy, but he was looking forward to going home. He said goodbye to the receptionist with a wave and
stepped out into the hallway. He was not expecting the sight that greeted him.

“Hey Harry.”

“Draco!” Harry felt a wave of affection for his brother as he quickly embraced him. He had no
idea how he could think that Draco was his enemy for months. They drew a part standing awkwardly
staring at each other.

“What happened to your hair,” Harry gestured to Draco's head that had cleanly cut hair,
short with no signs of his trademark bleach.

Draco shuffled his feet, lowering his eyes. “I just go tire of the blond thing.”

Harry saw though this excuse, knowing that Draco just wanted to connect with the memory of
James, but Harry didn't say anything, not wanting to embarrass Draco. “Well, I think it looks
nice.”

Draco looked up and smiled, “I'm glad.”

“How have things been?” Harry asked casually, trying to veil the significance in his
question.

Draco hesitated a second, before deciding to tell the truth. “It hasn't been good. Mom puts
on a brave front, but she's been hurting. The house has felt so empty the last couple months,
its been very hard. Mom and I have just been tip-toeing around each other, trying not dredge up any
painful memories for either of us.”

“How about Hermione?”

“She has not been much better. She comes by to visit with mom as often as she can, but her
family has been through a rough spot as you probably know, and it's just been hard for
her.”

Harry wanted collapse under the weight of the guilt over what he had put his family through, but
he knew that at the moment that wouldn't help anything. Draco has had to be strong for mom for
so long, it was Harry's turn to take on that responsibility. “Are you okay?”

“I feel like I will be better now that you are going to be coming home. I've missed you so
much,” Draco spoke, his voice breaking as a lone tear fell down his pale face.

Harry stepped forward and gave Draco another hug, so glad that he was reunited with his family.
“I've missed you too, even if I didn't know it.”

Draco laughed as he pulled back, quickly swiping at his eyes. “Well, we have you all packed up
and ready to go.”

“There's just one thing. I need to say goodbye to my roommate.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“Nah, I'll be fine. I will catch up with you outside.” Harry patted Draco on the shoulder
and went off to his room, hoping that Peter was there. Sure enough Peter was sitting on his bed
expectantly, and Alex was sitting next to him.

There was an awkward silence as the three of them stared at each other, not knowing exactly what
to say. Harry was the first to speak. “I guess you were right about me being delusional,” Harry
mumbled.

Alex shrugged. “I'm not sure I was right at all.”


Harry looked up with a question in his eyes, “what do you mean?”

“Well, I guess I just have not had much experience with love before, and now after watching you
with Hermione, I don't think there is anything more powerful.”

Harry smiled and gave Alex a quick hug. “I'll miss you. I will visit I promise.”

“I know you will,” Alex replied as they pulled apart.

Harry turned to Peter and gave him a hug as well. “I hope you get better soon.”

Peter shrugged. “I have something for you.” From behind him he pulled a rolled up sheet of
paper. He handed it to Harry.

Harry gingerly unrolled it and gasped at what he saw. It was a colored pencil sketch of himself
and Hermione. It had been one of the afternoons that the four of them had hung out playing board
games in the visitors lounge. Harry and Hermione had both sat in an overstuffed chair. Hermione
leaned her head against Harry's shoulder, her eyes closed and a soft smile playing on her lips.
Harry was staring down at Hermione, love and adoration written all over his face. It captured the
two of them perfectly.

Harry choked up for a moment at the emotion in the picture. “This is beautiful. Thank you so
much Peter.”

Peter grinned. “I was glad to do it. I had never seen anything so inspiring before. Both of you
will have to visit together to give me more inspiration.”

Harry chuckled, “we will. I guess I should get going . My family is waiting for me. Thank you
both for being there for me. I promise to visit.” Harry gave them each another quick hug before
heading to the entrance. Standing there was Draco and his mom, but he barely noticed them as he
caught a glimpse of Hermione.

She turned to him, smiling nervously. She didn't know if his feelings were still intact of
if they had changed over time. She didn't know how he was doing. She was so worried. But, one
glance into his eyes she was able to see everything and she knew everything would be okay.

They both knew there were difficult times ahead, but as they reached each other and instantly
fell into each others arms, they knew that they would get through it together.

“I love you Hermione,” Harry whispered into her hair.

“I love you too,” Hermione replied.

Harry leaned back to capture Hermione's lips in a kiss. It was soft, and quick, but as
poignant and beautiful as their first kiss. Harry smiled as he pulled back and glanced over
Hermione's head to see him mom and Draco smiling.

“Let's go home.”

A/N-It's finished. I'm sorry that the story started to get a little loopy and loose as
it went on. As time went on it was harder to keep everything straight. I'm sorry once again
that I dropped the ball on this story. I had so much more planned for it, including having Lupin
and Sirius show up as his uncle, I even toyed with them being together, but I didn't want to
weigh the story down. I have gotten some bad reviews and I'm sorry that the stories quality has
diminished, but I wanted to finish it to provide you readers with closure.

I am going to continue write, although I am thinking of doing a Twilight one-shot next. I have
tons of ideas including a sequel to my other h/h story The Married Life. But, my goal is to not
post any story until I finish it to avoid this whole months between updates. It's not fair to
you guys and it puts undue stress on me.

Thank you again all of those that have stuck around I hope if nothing else you gained some
closure from the ending. Please leave feedback about what you did and didn't like. Thank you
again and I hope to be back soon with some new stories.

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