"I don't know what you're talking about," said the man brusquely, pulling his hand back and avoiding her eyes. Hermione was having none of it; she seized his face in both of her tiny hands and forced him to look at her. He had bright green eyes.
"Harry!" cried Hermione again and threw her arms around him tightly. But he simply stood there stiffly and she quickly let go. Something wasn't right.
"Harry, what-? Your hair! And where's your scar? You're so thin! Where have you been? Where did you learn to play like that..." she trailed off in in the face of his grim gaze.
"Harry?" she asked tentatively. "What-?"
She was forced to cut off as he spun on the heel of his foot wordlessly and walked away. She thought, she thought, she had caught a flash of terrible pain and loathing in his eyes, but it was so quick she must have imagined it.
Hurt and confused, she stood frozen to the spot momentarily. She had found him (at last!), but this was not at all how she had imagined it. It was like a bad dream.
Hermione's paralysis lasted only a minute; she quickly recovered and ran after Harry. When she caught up she grabbed his arm and forced him to stop and face her. She had not imagined it; the pain and loathing were there, but quickly hidden. A few people were watching them curiously.
"Harry, please say something," begged Hermione, tears sparkling in her eyes. "It's you, I know it's you!"
Harry simply stood slumped, staring at the ground between his feet. The silence was excruciating. Hermione didn't think she could bear it any longer when he finally spoke.
"You're too clever by half, Hermione."
* * *
Shock ran through Harry's body, but it was quickly drowned out by pain and wave upon wave of self-loathing. It was all he could do to stand up straight.
It's all my own stupid fault, he thought angrily. I should have known better than to put myself on display like that in front of Hermione. She's always been more than clever enough to put it together.
Hermione! There she was, looking up at him uncertainly. He could read the hurt he had inflicted on her in her face. That only intensified his feelings of shame and loathing until he knew he didn't deserve to be alive.
She looked hale and healthy, not broken like him. Full of life and character, just as he remembered her.
"You should go," Harry said quietly.
"But-! I just found you. I finally found you!" Hermione's mouth hung open as he brushed past her.
"Harry! Come back!" She tried to grab him again, but he shrugged her off.
Distraught and hurt as she was, Hermione still wasn't going to be denied so easily. This time she ran ahead and planted herself firmly in Harry's path, legs braced. He tried to step around, but she stepped in time with him and stared challengingly into his eyes. She had never looked so beautiful. He had never hated her more. She was like a sister to him; he wanted to crush her with his bare hands.
"Hermione. Let me be."
"No."
"Hermione..."
"No!" she yelled, stomping her foot in a most Hermione-ish way. It was so familiar that Harry nearly laughed (hysterically).
"I'm not going to get rid of you, am I?"
Hermione shook her head mutely. More people were watching and pointing, though none really understood the gravity of the situation.
"I could hex you," threatened Harry.
"No, you couldn't," Hermione replied matter-of-factly.
"You're no match for me, Hermione."
"Maybe not... but you couldn't hex me. No, you wouldn't hex me. You would never. I know you wouldn't."
"What makes you so sure about that?" Harry said softy, dangerously. "I'm a bad person, Hermione."
"No, you're not!" Hermione said, shocked. Harry sighed.
"Ok."
He started off in a different direction and Hermione furiously flung herself in front of him.
"No, you don't! I want to know what's going on! I want to know why you're-"
"Ok!" Harry repeated forcefully. "I'm not trying to ditch you. Honest."
Hermione did not seem mollified. If anything, she looked more suspicious than ever.
"Really! Let's just- go back to my place, ok? It's safe from, well, everything. I'll make us some tea. Ok?"
She considered it for a minute, then nodded. Falling into step besides him, she wiped her tear-stained face.
"Oh, Harry-!"
"We'll talk when we get there," he said shortly, cutting her off.
* * *
"There" conspired to be the shabbiest, most ridden down part of Hogsmeade that Hermione had never known existed. What can Harry be doing here? she wondered. Is he in some sort of trouble? And why is he so... callous!
Harry stopped in front of what looked like a brutal slum lord's domain and conjured a quill and piece of parchment out of thin air. He scribbled something on it, then handed it it silently to Hermione.
"Um, what is this?"
"Read it," Harry commanded impassively.
Hermione glanced down at the scrap in her hand. No One lives at 46 Mud Scrapper Lane. No sooner had she finished than an apartment, as run down as the rest, swelled into being between two tenements, pushing them aside. Harry hustled her inside quickly.
"Of course... it's unplottable. And guarded by a Fidelis Charm. Harry, who did you get to cast those?"
Harry looked at her, but only said, "Welcome to my... lovely place."
Hermione turned slowly. It was, unsurprisingly, quite small and dark. There were no windows and only three rooms (four if you counted the tiny bathroom). The door to one of the other rooms was ajar, but the other was shut tightly and an air of menace hung around it like a shroud. Hermione shivered.
"Have a seat," Harry offered flatly, blasting a pile of finely grained wood pieces out of one of the room's two pieces of furniture, a decrepit old love seat. Hermione gingerly lowered herself onto it and surveyed the rest of the room.
It wasn't really dirty, like one might have expected after everything else. Actually, it was quite clean in a depressing sort of way. There was almost nothing in the place at all to show that anyone lived there. The love seat and a battered old table. That was it.
"So what is it that you have to know so badly that you have to force yourself into my home for?" Harry said roughly as he collapsed into a sitting position on the floor. Hermione winced, but stayed calm. This wasn't right... something had happened, something awful, to Harry. There was no other reason he'd be treating her like this.
"Harry, why are you living in a place like this? How you could you pay to live somewhere like this?"
"Pay?" he repeated, looking at her oddly. "Pay? Hermione, no one in the world knows this place exists, except for me. And you, now."
"But, what are you hiding from? Are you in trouble? Are you afraid of something?"
Harry started laughing; a horrible, mirthless laughter that dissolved in a coughing fit.
* * *
Harry waved Hermione away as she jumped forward, hand raised towards his forehead.
"Just a cold," he choked.
"In the summer?" she asked doubtfully.
"Yeah... those are the worst."
Why, he thought. Why does she have to make me do this? Why can't she just let me waste away in peace? Or perhaps waste away in misery would be more apt.
Because that's not what Hermione does, answered another part of his mind.
"If you say so..." Hermione sat back on the couch. "You didn't answer my question."
Harry picked up a piece of the wood and turned it about in his hands. His mouth twisted like he had bitten into something sour and he laughed that hollow laugh again.
"Who would I be afraid of?" It's everyone else who should be afraid of me.
* * *
There was something wrong, something very wrong with the way Harry said that. It scared Hermione. She didn't know why, but quickly changed the subject.
"Um, Harry? Where did you learn to play music like that?"
"That?" he waved his hand dismissively. "I just picked it up. Playing, it... it helps."
"Helps what?"
"It helps when-" Harry stopped and searched for different words, but didn't really find them. "Take my mind- just a little."
"Um... right." Hermione said uncertainly.
"Oh, where are my manners?" Harry burst out suddenly. He whipped out his wand in front of a bemused Hermione and conjured a teapot and two cups.
"The tea I promised," he said, pouring a cup and presenting it to Hermione with a mocking little seated bow. She accepted it and took a big gulp nervously. To her surprise, it was quite excellent. Just the right temperature with the right amount of honey. She noticed that, while Harry clutched a cup in his hands, he didn't drink any of it.
"Aren't you going to have some?" she asked awkwardly, hating it. She had never felt this uncomfortable around Harry.
"I- I don't feel like drinking any," Harry said.
"Harry, what happened to you!" Hermione cried out in frustration. "I can't stand this! Did he hurt you before... the end?"
"Who, Voldemort? No, no. Didn't even scratch me." Harry seemed to be growing more and more agitated.
"Surely- surely you can't feel bad about killing him?" she asked incredulously as another thought occurred to her. Harry had always been very sensitive.
"Feel bad?" Harry threw back his head and barked out more of that horrible, mocking laughter. "Oh, no. I don't feel bad about it at all. He had to die."
"Oh... that's good... Harry, what is it? Let me in, please!"
"You have to go now!" Harry lunged to his feet suddenly, eyes bulging. Hermione felt an urge to cower back, but didn't. This was Harry; he had blocked the unblockable curse, for her. He would never hurt her. She believed that with all her heart. She had to believe it.
Still, he dragged her off the sofa and towards the door. Carefully, if such a thing could be said of that sort of action.
"Harry, you're hurting me!"
He let go at once. A flicker of something flashed across his face. Shame, Hermione would have said. And something else as well, unrecognizable.
"It's not safe here! I'm a bad man, Hermione. Go, go!" He pushed her insistently towards the door.
"But-"
"GO! Please..."
"Oh, ok! But I'm coming back tomorrow!"
"Yes, come back tomorrow," Harry said hurriedly. "Tomorrow."
Harry watched as she opened a door, then a sudden thought occurred to him.
"Don't tell anyone me! Don't tell Ron!"
Hermione cringed.
"But, Harry... he'd be so happy to know you're alive."
"Don't tell anyone! Promise me you won't tell!"
"I-"
"PROMISE!"
"Ok, I promise," Hermione cried. Harry slammed the door behind her.
* * *
Oh, my god, he thought, slumping against the wall once she was finally gone. Oh, my god... I was going to hurt her. I was going to hurt Hermione! She was going to make me re-live it and I... He covered his face in despair, but he had no tears left to cry. He was broken. So broken.
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