Unofficial Portkey Archive

Thanks to everyone for being so incredibly patient! Chapter 2 awaits:

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Without You

Chapter 2: Crazy Train

Ozzy Osbourne

Crazy, but that's how it goes
Millions of people living as foes
Maybe it's not to late
To learn how to love
And forget how to hate

Mental wounds still screaming
Driving me insane
I'm going off the rails on a crazy train

I'm going off the rails on a crazy train

Mental wounds not healing
Who and what's to blame
I'm going off the rails on a crazy train

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The woman's shrieks as the pain coursed through her body didn't phase the ear of her tormentor. Never in her life had it been so horrible. Her bones were crumbling, her fingers in so much strain that they were breaking backwards on their own. When finally the Dark Lord Voldemort released her from the Cruciatus curse, she wished that he hadn't stopped, that he had continued until she was dead.

"Did you read the Daily Prophet today, Bella?" She didn't answer. "Crucio." Bellatrix screamed again and he released the hold he had on her, letting her fall to the ground in a pathetic heap at his feet.

"Are you going to answer my question this time?"

She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. "Y-ye…yes, m-my Lord." The words were soft, barely recognizable, but Voldemort took pity on her this once and turned around to go sit in the chair at the back of the room.

"So tell me, Bella. Why did you deviate from the original plan I sent you to do?"

She winced, but still did not look up at him. "I-I had to, my Lord."

"Why would you deceive me so, Bella? Have you no respect for your superiors?" Voldemort twirled his wand in his hand, then held it loosely as he tapped his temple, waiting for her answer.

"I had no choice, my Lord. They had me cornered." A ripple of pain made its way through her body. Her heart rate soared; her toes curled, and felt her body stretching itself out of shape on its own accord. The curse stopped, but the pain remained as Lord Voldemort stood over her body, peering down at her crumpled form.

"I am sick with you Bella." He moved to walk out of the room as she reached for him. Her arm was too weak to hold her weight, and instead she slumped to the floor and bawled.

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"Hermione, just tell us where the bloody hell to drop this fucking couch."

"Ron Weasley! I can't believe your mouth has the ability to-"

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron yelled simultaneously.

"Oh! Um, well I think it would look nice next to the window." They started to carry it over to the window in Hermione's new room. "But I don't want the colour to fade from the sunlight. Try it over there next to the closet." Huffing, the two boys stopped and turned toward the closet. "Oh damn, no that won't look good at all. Perhaps you should-"

"You know, Hermione, I think it looks good right here," Ron said irritably as he and Harry plopped the couch down in the middle of her room.

"Oh, well, you know, it looks good there too…"

"I still don't know why we can't do this with our wands. It would be so easy to…"

"I all ready told you no Ronald. I won't have my furniture accidentally turned into a…"

"We're not going to…"

"Hermione, would you mind if we took a break or something," Harry said slumping down on the couch and covering his eyes with his arm. "It's probably lunch time and I'm starving."

"Hear hear," Ron said as he shot downstairs. Harry and Hermione laughed as Harry sat up and moved over for Hermione to sit down.

"How are you doing?" He asked her, reaching out to take her hand in his, stroking his thumb over her palm.

She grinned, looking at their hands. "I'm doing all right. I just…well, I guess I never thought…"

"I know," he said pulling her to his side so he could wrap his arms around her. "You don't need to say it. That guy was a jerk."

She gave him a tight squeeze, and then pulled back from him and took his hands in hers. "We should probably be getting downstairs, lunch and all."

Harry smirked. "Right. I'll bet Ron is going mad waiting for you to make us lunch."

She laughed, and a glint caught in her eye, one Harry had never noticed before in his life. She had the likeness, at that moment, of an innocent child, laughing so carefree. Never before had he noticed how beautiful she could be in such an instant. He had the sudden urge to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, to run his hand along her soft cheek, to…

"Yes, I suppose we should," he said, letting go of her hands and standing up. "Shall we?"

She grinned and stood up, leading him out of the room. They walked down the stairs, and saw Ron, not pacing the kitchen as they had expected him to, but sitting down at the table, enraptured with the daily prophet. The muggle newspaper lay on the table near him, open so that the front page could be easily read.

He looked up at them in disbelief. "Have you guys read the paper yet?" They shook their heads. "Well, the British Library was blown up yesterday."

"What?" Harry and Hermione shouted at the same time, reaching for the muggle newspaper. Hermione got to it first and skimmed the front page of The London Times.

"This is from yesterday, so a day after…" she said, glancing at the first part herself.

"Well what does it say?" Harry asked apprehensively.

"Yesterday, a woman dressed in black was questioned on her way into the British Library of London. When asked to see an ID, she refused and demanded to be allowed entrance. Because of suspicious behaviours, authorities were contacted immediately. When authorities arrived, the woman was so vehemently intent on entering the library that they attempted to handcuff her. She retaliated screaming, "Get your filthy hands off me you muggles!" Researchers are still attempting to find some meaning behind her remark.

After struggling with the suspect for minutes, she screamed and held up a stick (which authorities believed to be a bomb of some sort) as the building then proceeded to explode." Hermione stopped and looked up at the two boys. They were staring at her with wide eyes

"But she…and then…how did…"

"I think someone tipped her off with the news that I was there, Ron."

"Alone, I might add," Harry snapped, turning towards the refrigerator.

"Harry, come on I just-"

"You could have been killed Hermione!" Harry didn't want to turn around and show her the tears that were streaming down his face. He couldn't bear to even look at her.

"Do you think I feel good about this, Harry?" Hermione shouted. "Do you think I feel amazing that I got hundreds of people killed because of my own stupid mistake?"

Harry wiped at his eyes and turned around to find her inches from his face; her eyes livid and spilling tears. "I feel repulsive right now; I am so upset with myself that I would do anything in the world to take it back."

"Well now you know how I feel, Hermione!" The words were out of his mouth before he could even think them. "Now you know how I feel every day of my life; that if I hadn't been born, there would be so many other people living. That if I hadn't been so stupid in my fifth year, that Sirius would still be alive."

He wiped at his face again. "In a war, Hermione, there are always going to be casualties…even the innocent people are going to die. But living with that constant fear, that constant threat that you are one-half of why that evil is still in the world, and that you can't destroy it is something no one will ever feel. I can hardly feel it…I'll never grasp the fact that Voldemort is still there because I haven't killed him." He moved past her to sit at one of the chairs at the table, and put his head in his hands. Ron moved to sit next to him and Hermione came up from behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean…"

"I hate feeling so useless," he choked out. "I feel like I'm a burden most of the time, or like a bloody damsel in distress."

"Well you're not, mate," Ron said, patting him on the shoulder. "And I'm glad you're not, because then you'd have to wear one of those dresses."

Harry choked out a noise that was halfway between a sob and a laugh. Hermione squeezed his shoulders. "Look, Harry. I'm not all that hungry anymore. Maybe we should go back to moving everything and skip-what?" Harry had picked up his head and turned to look at her with the same frown that Ron had on his face. She smiled. "Oh come on you two."

"Do you know what you're saying, Hermione," Ron said almost monotonously. "You are asking two fully grown men to skip a meal. I don't think we can let her get away with it that easily, mate." Harry laughed and Hermione swatted Ron on the arm.

"Fine. I'll make Harry a sandwich and cook some dung beetles for you Ron."

"Hey," he said following her to the refrigerator. Harry watched their exchange and sighed. They were right. There wasn't anything he could do. He had to deal with what was given to him, and what had been taken away. Maybe the prophecy was a joke, and the only reason Voldemort was going through with it was because he had heard and believed it. A self-fulfilling prophecy, that wouldn't be Harry's fault.

With a somewhat renewed conscience, Harry got up to help Hermione make the three of their lunch.

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"You know, this is a lot of fun," Hermione laughed as she put another marshmallow on the end of a stick and held it up to the fire. The fire, of course, was from her bed bonfire.

"This was a brilliant idea," Ron said with his mouth full of hot dogs.

Hermione grimaced. "Can't you ever talk without your mouth full of food?"

Ron swallowed. "I was complimenting you. Can't you ever take a compliment like a normal person?"

"Not if I can see what their dinner looks like in their stomach."

"Stop it you two. You're ruining our celebration." Harry took a swig of his firewhisky.

Hermione giggled and swirled her wine around her glass. "And what exactly are we celebrating, Harry?"

"Your getting rid of that dolt and moving into my house of course."

"Hear hear." Ron raised his glass and the three of them toasted.

Hermione sat back on the couch that they had been too lazy to bring in the muggle way. She took another sip of her wine. "I'm getting drunk."

"Good then, here's some more," Ron said picking up the bottle of wine and pouring for her.

Hermione giggled and sunk further into the couch. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you two were getting me drunk on purpose."

"Hermione, we're celebrating," Harry said throwing his arm around her shoulder. "It wouldn't do justice to have a celebration without getting you drunk."

Hermione snickered again and leaned into Harry's embrace. He kissed the top of her head and took another swig of his drink. "Sit back, enjoy the fire and…wait, I think that's it."

Hermione and Ron broke out into wild laughter. "That was a great speech, mate! Sit back, enjoy and…wait…" Ron slapped his knee and let out a snort.

"Yes, it was lovely Harry, absolutely memorable." Harry joined them in their doubled up fits and then sat back, noticing he felt entirely too content having Hermione resting in his arms. His blood warmed when she sighed contentedly, and the wine on her breath mixing with the alcohol in his system to create this sensation in his gut; something he had never felt before.

He leaned his head against hers and nuzzled his nose in her silky hair, taking in her sweet scent. He yawned, snuggling in closer to Hermione, faintly hearing Ron douse the flame, pick up their empty bottles of alcohol and cast an invisibility charm around Harry and Hermione before he went into the house. Harry's eyes grew heavy, and his breathing soon matched the slow and rhythmic pace of Hermione's, before he fell into a deep and content sleep.

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Chapter 3 is on its way as you read this!

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