A/N - I found this chapter turning even darker than I had intended. When I started writing this, I had a very clear picture in my mind of where it was going. It was mostly uplifting and light with moments of sadness. But, as I write, it takes on a life of its own and I have no choice but to follow.
Harry is much more scarred and broken than I had intended, and it comes out particularly in this chapter. I had intended Harry as being haunted and melancholy, but not... well, you will see. I apologize if it is overly disturbing, but I assure you it will turn out for the best in the end =)
Sorry if there are a few typos or errors. Spell check doesn't catch 'em all and I have this problem when I proofread my work... I catch most everything, but occasionally I miss something because I know what I meant to say so I'll unconsciously add in missing words without even realizing they were missing.
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Hermione slumped against the wall outside Harry's now hidden apartment. She hadn't handled that well. She hadn't handled it well at all.
I had all sorts of questions planned out. Where had he been, what had happened, why didn't he contact us, was he ok? I dreamed about it for FIVE years. I planned it for FIVE years! But... everything just flew out of her head with him sitting there, watching her with haunted eyes, and she had blurted out the stupidest things. Why had she pressed so hard? He was obviously very fragile, she should have led up to it slowly.
A furtive noise alerted Hermione to the outside world again and she realized that this street probably wasn't the best of places to hang around. Glancing around warily, she prepared her mind and apparated back to her flat.
What she felt like doing when she arrived was collapsing onto her bed. Curling up into a ball and letting the flood of tears come. But she couldn't. She had to be ready for tomorrow. And she had to get up early... he was going to do a runner. It didn't take a genius to figure it out.
Yes... she would grab a couple hours sleep and then camp out by the entrance to that wretched place he lived tomorrow. She was going to take him away from there.
* * *
I've gotta go, Harry was thinking. It had taken half a dozen hours to pull himself together after Hermione had left. A racking fit of coughing left him weak and shaking, but he shook it off. I've gotta leave before Hermione comes back.
But another voice whispered to him. You could just eliminate her. With that nosy little Muggle gone, no one would know your secret.
No! Harry shook his head violently. Not Hermione!
What's the matter? You didn't have a problem destroying Voldemort and scores of his Death Eaters.
"That was different!"
How so?
"I- I only did that because I had to!"
Liar, laughed the voice breathily. Liar. Tell me you didn't hate them.
"I... I..."
Tell me you didn't want to kill them.
"I had- I-" Harry's face contorted.
Tell me you didn't enjoy it! Tell me it wasn't satisfying to grind your enemies bodies into dust!
"I did!" screamed Harry. "I did! I wanted to hurt them. I wanted them to hurt as bad as they hurt me!"
The voice's laughter echoed in the expanse of Harry's mind. So kill the Muggle and be done with it.
"No."
Kill her.
"No! I hate you!"
With a tremendous force of will Harry forced the voice to be quiet. He couldn't force it out of his head because- it was him. It wasn't some other person or entity. It was him. He was the one who did all those terrible things. He was the sort of evil and twisted person he had been prophesied to hunt down. He didn't deserve to live.
Dully, he walked to the other door, the locked one. A thought was all it took to unlock it and another to send a globe of crackling light to the ceiling. The room itself wasn't very big, perhaps eight feet by ten feet. Unlike the other rooms, it was a complete mess. There were cut outs from various newspapers everywhere; stuck to the walls, lying on the floor, even a few floating in mid-air. Some were crisp and new, some had been torn or crumpled and then smoothed out again. A few were lying in haphazard balls, having been thrown to ricochet off the walls with tremendous force.
Augustus Rook, know Death Eater, found dead outside the Ministry of Magic.
Three suspected Death Eaters found dead outside Muggle hospital; Ministry of Magic forced to modify memories to cover up.
Death Eaters found dead...
Rudolphus Lestrange, torn apart...
On and on the headlines read like a causality report from a war. Harry knew them all by heart. Harry held up his hand and another scrap appeared, which he let fall to the floor. Without looking back, he walked out of the room and it sealed itself behind him.
He considered going into the other room. Sometimes, the music and the creating of things was enough. But Harry knew it wouldn't help now. Not today. No, there was nothing else for it. Harry sat on the floor, facing the door, with a blank expression on his face. A long, sharp knife appeared in the air in front of him and he reached out slowly with his right hand to grasp it. He wouldn't run this time; let Hermione find him.
* * *
"No, Ron, it was just another mistaken identity," Hermione said over the phone. "Looked like Harry, but was this bloke named Ernie."
"Ah... damn. Next time, Hermione. Next time. I know it."
Hermione sighed, not trusting herself to speak. She had an overwhelming urge to confess what had happened to Ron, but she had promised.
"Yeah, next time. So how did it go with Charlotte?"
"It was great!" Ron crowed. "Mum and Dad loved her. She's really special, Hermione. I reckon... I reckon she might be the one!"
"Whoa now, mister," Hermione chided. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. But I'm really glad it went well."
And she was, though a small part of her reared its ugly green head. She wanted what Ron had; she was so tired of being alone. But she quashed it ruthlessly.
"Yeah," Ron was saying happily. "It's like a dream."
"I'm so happy for you, Ron. Listen, I've got to go now. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."
"They got you working overtime at St. Mungo's again?"
"Yeah," Hermione lied. "Give Charlotte a hug from me."
"I will," Ron promised. "And I'll pinch her bottom and tell her it was from you too."
"Ron!"
"Just kidding," laughed Ron then, after a pause. "About the saying it was from you part, anyway."
"You're awful!"
"I know. Love you, Hermione."
"You too, Ron... g'night."
"G'night."
As Hermione hung up the phone, she reflected that she was pretty certain it wouldn't be a good night. She tried her best to catch a few hours of sleep, but she couldn't have managed more than fifteen minutes. Finally, at about two in the morning she abandoned all pretense of sleep and pulled on a fresh set of clothes.
Harry, you are NOT getting away from me.
* * *
Mud Scrapper Lane was eerily quiet when Hermione apparated. It seemed that even the crickets and night insects didn't want to live here. Hermione cast around for a minute before settling into a spot slightly less filthy than the rest to wait for dawn.
As difficult as it had been to find sleep when in her flat, it was easily that hard to stay awake now. She found herself nodding several times, but caught herself before slipping away completely. She was sure that Harry hadn't been able to slip past her, at any rate.
It was still dark and Hermione had lost track of time, so she dug her watch out of her purse. She hated wearing it; it dug into her wrist unmercifully.
4:27am.
She had waited long enough. Pushing herself to her feet, Hermione marched up to the wall dividing 45 and 47 Mud Scrapper Lane and thought No One lives at 46 Mud Scrapper Lane. Instantly, the building swelled into existence. Hermione tried the handle and breathed a sigh of relief as she found it unlocked; she had suspected the lock had been tied directly to the Charm and it seemed she was correct.
Carefully, she inched the door open, cautious not to startle Harry. She was sure it would not be a good idea to burst in.
"Harry?" she called softly. "Harry, it's me, Hermione. I'm coming in."
There was no answer, so Hermione pushed the door all the way open and stepped in. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the room and when they did she had to stifle a scream.
"Harry, no!" she cried, slamming the door behind and racing to his side where she fell to her knees and wrestled the knife from his grip.
"I can still feel," Harry whispered quietly, staring at the deep bloody gashes in his arm. "Barely, but I can still feel."
"Oh, Harry!" choked Hermione in horror and heartbreak. There were dozens of older scars crisscrossing his left arm. Swiftly, she drew her wand and ran it over each of the new cuts. They healed instantly in the wand's wake, leaving yet more scars.
"Harry, we're going," Hermione said firmly. "I'm taking you out of here. To my place."
"No," Harry said weakly. "No, I don't want that. Go away."
"Yes! No one will see you, don't worry. And even if they did, nobody would recognize you. I'd just tell them I found you in this shape and took you in. I'm a healer, nobody would think it odd. Now, up you get."
"No," Harry tried to wave her off feebly as she pulled him to his feet, but he wasn't up to the task. No sooner was he up than he had to lean heavily on Hermione, or else fall straight back down.
"Hermione, I can't go with you," Harry insisted, his face crumpling. "Please, just leave me."
"Stop talking nonsense and save your strength," Hermione ordered. "We're going to make you better."
"Hermione, you can't make me better," Harry said lifelessly. "I'm a monster. I'm worse than Voldemort ever was!"
Hermione hissed and grabbed his chin in one hand, still holding him up with her other arm.
"Don't you say that! Don't ever say that!"
"It's true... I'll show you. Take me in that room over there." Harry pointed towards the sealed door.
"Why?" Hermione said warily.
"Just do it. I won't argue any more if you just take me in there first."
I won't have to, Harry was thinking. She'll be so horrified that she'll leave.
"Ok, fine. But we're leaving right after that."
Laboriously, Hermione hauled Harry over to the room. The door sprang open as they arrived and Hermione's feeling of foreboding increased one hundredfold. However, her first thought on entering was, that's not so bad, it's just a bunch of newspaper clippings. That was until she saw the headlines. Saw what every one was about.
"See?" Harry said with a miserable sort of satisfaction.
"See what?" snapped Hermione, thinking furiously. "Good riddance to them all."
"You don't understand," Harry said in disbelief.
"I understand fine," growled Hermione. "Good riddance, I say. Now, we're going."
"Ok," said Harry dully. "Whatever... We can't disapparate in here. We have to go outside."
Hermione said nothing in reply, just started dragging Harry towards the door. His sudden capitulation and lack of emotion worried her more than everything else combined.
Hermione was exhausted by the time she made it outside. Heartbreakingly thin Harry might be, but he still had almost a foot on her. Harry had shut his eyes and was breathing heavily.
We're going home, Harry.
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