Title: Lustratio
Author: Electric_blue
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Summary: Things only get more confusing...
Warnings: M/F, angst, dark themes
Disclaimer: This story is completely for fun and no money is being made off of it at all.
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Lustratio
Part II: Nameless
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"The facts of the present won't sit still for a portrait. They are constantly vibrating, full of clutter and confusion.
-Macneile Dixon
There were advantages to being an Auror, of course. Many, numerous, great... advantageous... advantages... Prestige. Respect. And it was fulfilling, too. Definitely fulfilling. There were a million and one reasons why it was a great job for - possibly the only job that could have fit - Harry Potter...
But at this moment, he could think of none of them.
If there was one thing that could not have been said about Harry, it would be that he didn't care about people. He certainly did care about people. Sometimes, perhaps, to a fault. He wanted to help everyone and take care of the world. He wanted to save the world. But after two hours with a man who refused to reveal his name, how he knew Mrs. Pearl, and what he knew of what had taken place the day she had been hit with the Avada Kedavra...
Harry didn't much feel like saving or helping anyone.
The 21 year-old Auror sighed and ran his hand through his dark hair - resisting the urge to take his glasses off and pinch his nose. This whole situation was a shame, really, because it was a beautiful day outside. A sunny, warm, breezy, absolutely gorgeous day... and Harry was stuck inside a dim and stuffy room, inside an ostentatiously large house, with a pounding in his head that would not be alleviated with a little squeeze from his thumb and fore finger. This was the kind of headache that threw a couple of throw pillows down in your brain and decided it was home.
"Do you understand," Harry started from his standing position against the wall. One leg crossed over the other for balance - his arms crossed over his chest. "How important it is that I know the details of what happened that day?"
The short and pale man paced nervously back in forth in the large bedroom, glancing every now and then to the woman sleeping on the bed.
"Of course, I know!" The man exclaimed, and when the sleeping Mrs. Pearl stirred ever so slightly, the man looked at her again. When he was sure that she wasn't waking up, he turned back to Harry. "Of course, I know." He whispered. Harry blinked once, and then twice - his face quite blank.
"Then you'll excuse me if I seem a little confused as to why you wont give me the information I am asking you for." He said - not having to try very hard to keep his frustration and exhaustion from showing through, as he had quite a bit of experience in keeping his emotions from those around him.
"I just can't." The man said the same words he had been repeating as though it were his mantra through out this tedious session of theirs. Harry sighed and pushed himself away from the wall with his shoulder so that he could stand up straight.
"Mrs. Pearl has no memory of what has happened to her. You're the only witness. We'll never find Mr. Pearl or the people who attacked his wife without your help."
"You'll never find Mr. Pearl anyway." The nameless man said sadly - his eyes becoming far away. This... was very odd. Harry, while taking a mental note of this, tilted his head.
"Just tell me what you know." He said slowly, his instinct to help having been renewed a little by that look in the sad man's eyes. His instinct to solve problems, however, was the driving force behind this latest request.
And then the far away look, which had come so suddenly upon the man's eyes, was gone... The man ran a chubby hand over his head that was depressingly devoid of hair, and looked at Harry. A desperate expression crossed over his pale face and it looked as though he were preparing to plead.
"I can't tell you." He nearly sobbed out. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but the man shook his head, and continued. "I can't help. I wish you and the ministry the best of luck in finding who did this, Mr. Potter... believe me, I really do - but I can't help you any more than you can help me."
****
"Strange that he should say that." Remus said as he leaned against Harry's desk. Harry, who had been pacing back and fourth slowly in the largish office, looked at Remus with a questioning gaze. Remus looked at him as well. "I was just thinking how it's strange that he should say you can't help him. Why would he need your help? It's all very curious." Harry crossed his arms over his chest and nodded.
"I thought about that, too." Which he had. A lot. In fact, he had gone over everything the chubby bald man had said to him... tossing and turning over every single word in his mind. He had wanted so badly for there to be a clue somewhere amidst all the I-can't-tell-you's and the I-just-can't's. So far, however, there really hadn't been.
"There's certainly something very important that he isn't telling you, Harry." Remus said as he stood up and put his hands in his pants pockets. Harry let out a short - very short - laugh.
"What? You mean aside from everything?" He asked. Remus' eyes twinkled with something akin to amusement, though he said nothing in retort.
"I think the real question in all this is, why can't he tell us?"
Harry had thought about that, too.
"Maybe some kind of... binding charm? Something to keep him from telling anyone what happened that night?"
Remus thought about it, then shook his head. "No... if they wanted to see to it that he wouldn't tell anyone what happened, they'd have just obliviated the memory of that night all together."
"Or they'd have killed him." Harry suggested. Remus nodded.
"Which brings us to another question." He started with a sigh. "Why was he there, and why wasn't he attacked? Mrs. Pearl was shot at with the Avada Kedavra, and it appears as though Mr. Pearl has gone off the face of the earth. Why was it that he was spared?"
"I don't know if we can rule out the chance that this man could have had something to do with it all. Maybe we should bring him down to the ministry for official questioning. Though, I didn't get the feeling that he was one of Voldemort's followers."
"No... nor did I. I do, however, don't think that's a bad idea." There was silence for a few moments, and then something occurred to Harry. His eyes stared blankly down at his trainers, though he did not really see them.
"Professor," Harry started. Every once in a while Harry would slip and call Remus this, but only when he was focused very intently on something else. Neither of them acknowledged the mistake. "Where was Mrs. Pearl's scar?" And there was no need for any explanation after that. Remus looked suddenly very put out.
"We all just assumed it was the Avada Kedavra." He started, taking one hand from his pockets and running it through his hair as realization dawned on him. "The message that Mrs. Pearl had been hit came from Mr. Pearl himself. He was screaming frantically that his wife was dead. That she'd been attacked with the killing curse... but by the time we got there he had already disappeared. Has our nameless friend ever said anything about the curse being used on the woman?" Harry thought on this.
"No." He answered finally. "He's just never said otherwise. He let us assume."
"Then there is no proof that the Avada Kedavra had been used." He looked around the room, not intending to focus on anything in particular. "But the dark mark had been cast over the house, clear as day. The death eaters only cast that mark when someone has been murdered. It wouldn't make much sense for them to start casting it just for the hell of it now, would it?"
"No." Harry said, almost becoming frustrated with himself for not being able to put any of this together. "I don't see why the Pearls would have been so special that they'd have cast the mark without cause." He took a deep breath. "Maybe Mr. Pearl didn't just disappear. They could have killed him." Remus shook his head again.
"There was no trace of him at all. There would have been something left behind... especially in a death eater attack. They'd have wanted us to see what they'd done." That, unfortunately, made sense. Harry knew enough about the death eaters, and had seen enough of their carnage, to know this was true.
"And why would Mr. Pearl think his wife had been hit with the curse in the first place? He must have truly thought she was dead. How could he have been mistaken about that? How could anyone mistake it?"
"Perhaps he wasn't." Remus answered thoughtfully.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked as he tried to follow Remus' train of thought - but failing. Remus met his eyes.
"Something must have happened to make him believe the curse had been used against his wife..."
"Like what?"
"Perhaps..." Remus trailed off.
"Perhaps what?" Harry asked. Remus looked at Harry.
"I have a theory as to what may have happened, Harry... but if I told you now without any proof by which to substantiate it, you might very well think me mad."
And that had not been what Harry wanted to hear.
"We'll bring the man down here for questioning and pick this up in the morning." Remus continued. "In the mean time, go home and get a good night's rest."
At that... Harry sincerely wanted to laugh.
****
"All right, Harry?" Ron asked of his best friend with a knock at his bedroom door. Harry, who was sitting on the floor in the lotus position attempting to meditate, looked up. Had he actually been successful in his attempts, he might just have been annoyed at the interruption... but as it was, he had only been succeeding in staring blankly at his socks as thoughts ran rampantly through his mind. So, in this case, the interruption was almost welcomed. Harry took a breath and then shrugged.
"Just trying to clear my mind." He answered, and there was more truth in that statement than Ron could possibly have understood. Though he did not seem completely satisfied with the answer, he nodded. He took a few steps in to the room, and shoved his hands in his pockets as he looked around.
"I, uh... helped save a Ukrainian Ironbelly from poachers today." He said off handedly.
"That's great, Ron." Harry responded sincerely, if not very enthusiastically, as he stretched his arms one at a time behind his neck and across his shoulders.
"Yeah." Ron agreed. "I think, you know, after all this war is over with... I might just take up dragon keeping as a full time job." Harry stopped stretching and nodded.
"Sounds like a good idea." He responded blandly. He did, indeed, think it was a good idea. After all, Ron had shown quite an aptitude for Dragon Keeping in the last couple of years... but knowing Ron as well as Harry did, he knew that he was just beating around the bush. He wondered how long he would do this before he got to the real reason he wanted to talk to him. Ron shrugged.
"So... what are you doing?" He asked. Harry laughed shortly, and then stood up.
"Talking to you." He responded pointedly. He wasn't going to get much meditating done with Ron standing over him like that.
Not that he was getting much done before, anyway...
"Cool." Ron said, continuing his eye sweep of the room. "So... have you... noticed anything weird about Hermione lately?"
Bingo.
Harry had to force his face blank to keep from looking guilty. Just the name spoken sent his heart racing. He had, somehow, managed not to think of her much since he had kissed her - and he had managed to avoid her all together. Perhaps, though, that was made easier by the fact that she was almost certainly avoiding him as well. However, those times when Harry was unable to keep his mind from drifting in to Hermione's direction, times like these, the torment was acute.
"I haven't noticed anything." And it was the truth, wasn't it? He hadn't noticed anything, because he hadn't even seen Hermione in at least two days. Ron finally looked at him.
"Well, I have." He said, finally getting down to the meat of it. "She's been depressed lately... and real quiet all the time - like she has something on her mind."
"Maybe she does." Harry said, trying to subtly steer them off the subject.
"Don't think I don't know what's going on." Ron said suddenly. And that statement, combined with the fact that it was so unexpected, and the fact that is held such an element of certainty, forced Harry to feel as though he had to lie. And fast.
"Nothing's going on." He responded defensively. Ron creased his forehead.
"Yes, there is." He said. "I'm not blind." And here it came. Ron knew. Harry didn't know how he knew, but he knew. Was this going to change the whole dynamic? Well, of course it would! This was going to change everything.
"Ron, what are you--"
"Hermione's in love with some wanker, that's what!" He exclaimed. Harry was silent for a moment - his heart imploding. Hermione was in love? In love with someone else? How could this have happened? She had just been in the hallway snogging him senseless less than three nights ago... and she was in love with another man? Maybe that had been what she had been trying to tell him when he walked away from her. She was trying to tell him that it was okay that he didn't want her, because she didn't want him.
That, for some reason, hurt more than anything else could have.
"And how did you come to this conclusion?" Harry asked nearly emotionlessly.
"Oh, come on, mate. Isn't it obvious? Girls only act that way for one of two reasons. One, they're, you know, doing that thing that... they do every month," Harry might have laughed at that if the pain in his chest wasn't nearly killing him. "Or two, they're in love. And since Hermione couldn't possibly be, you know all the time... she has to be in love."
It occurred to Harry that he and Hermione never really gave Ron enough credit.
"And how do you know he's a wanker?" Harry asked. "Do you know who he is?" This question may have come out a little too much like Harry was trying to sound like he didn't care. If Ron noticed, he didn't say anything about it. He shook his head.
"I haven't a sodding clue, but they're not together... so obviously he doesn't want to be with her. He'd have to be a wanker not to want to be with her."
This was nearly the exact sentiment Harry had expressed to Hermione the night that her date had gone so awfully wrong... was that man the one whom Hermione had fallen in love with? The man who had been all over his ex girlfriend right in front of her?
"Well maybe he has his reasons." He offered, dropping his eyes to the floor.
"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Like being a wanker."
"Well, why do you care so much anyway?" He asked, crossing his arms, looking back at Ron - becoming increasingly more uncomfortable by the moment. It was a hard thing; hiding heart break, trying to appear stoic about it, and solacing his best friend at the same time. Ron looked away from Harry and began scanning the room once again.
"I don't know." He answered, then shrugged. "I just... always kind of thought..." And Harry couldn't help but dread the words that were to come next. "You know... I thought me and Hermione would end up together eventually."
Harry's heart sank. They were both in love with the same woman... and neither of them could have her. Especially now. Harry, if for no other reason, could never pursue Hermione because it would break Ron's heart. There was already enough of that going around.
"Me too." Harry responded truthfully, and found that his heart ached just a little when he said it. He had thought that Ron and Hermione would eventually be together, but the thought that it could still happen hurt. Though he knew it would probably be for the best. "Just give it some time."
Ron took a deep breath. "I think I've given it enough time." He said with a slow shake of his head. "This guy, whoever he is... if he would have wanted her, I could have lost her."
Lost her. As though he had thought she was his to begin with.
Harry's heart sank deeper.
"I can't risk her falling in love again with someone else who isn't me." Ron continued. "I have to do something."
"What are you going to do?"
"... I'm going to tell her how I feel about her." Ron responded a bit hesitantly. And why not? For Ron, that was definitely a big deal. It was probably difficult for him to even talk about it with Harry - his best friend, and someone who knew their history better than anyone else. Harry swallowed and nodded.
"I think you should." He paused, and then thinking better of what he had just said, continued. "But you should wait."
"Wait?" Ron asked dubiously. "Look where waiting's gotten me so far, Harry."
"Yeah, and if you tell her now while she's still pining after some guy who doesn't want her, it's not going to get you much further." Was Harry's sensible explanation. Later, perhaps, he would wonder about how it was possible for him to give relationship advice to Ron when it concerned Hermione... but for now, he knew it was the right thing to do.
And if only one thing could ever be said about Harry Potter... it would be that he was always one to do the right thing.
Ron looked down and thought about this.
"Makes sense." He said almost to himself. Harry said nothing for a few moments, allowing Ron to work out whatever he was thinking in his head. Also, he really didn't have much else to say on the matter. He gave Ron the best advice he had - which was just to wait. One she over whatever prat this guy was, she might just give Ron a chance. He was a good guy, and she loved him. They would be good together. Good for each other. The only thing was...
Could he handle seeing them together?
"It's settled then?" Harry asked, quite unsettled by this last thought. Ron looked at him, and then nodded after a moment.
"I'm going to wait a few days, I guess... and then talk to her about it." He paused. "What do you think she'll say?" Harry finally did laugh a little at this.
"It's Hermione. I don't know that I have the vocabulary to imagine what she would say." He answered. Ron cracked a smile as well.
"That's part of what I lo... like about her." He looked down again, though this time there was a hint of a blush playing on his cheeks. He was probably hoping that Harry hadn't noticed how the word "like" had suspiciously started out with an "L" and an "o".
He had.
"Me too." Harry said quietly. Ron looked over at him.
"What?" He asked. Harry shook his head.
"Nothing." He answered. Ron tilted his head, and Harry knew they were done talking about Hermione. He would have been grateful for this, though he could tell what was coming next. There was a peculiar look that his friends got in their eyes whenever they were wondering what was going through Harry's head. When they were wondering if it would be wise to try to extract that information.
"What were trying to clear your mind of earlier?" Ron asked, taking his hands from his pockets and crossing his arms. Harry sighed and sat down on his bed.
"Just work stuff." He answered elusively. He really wasn't in the mood to talk about Mrs. Pearl or the enigma that was her death/survival. There was that look again on Ron's face. The one that said he was not completely satisfied with Harry's answer. Mostly... Ron went through life avoiding complication and minding his own business. People kind of assumed that he was just really unobservant and absent minded. Harry, however, knew that Ron noticed a lot more than he let on. He had, for example, noticed Hermione's change of mood... and now, unfortunately, he seemed to be able to tell that Harry was holding something back from him.
Well, that's where being best friends got you.
Ron nodded. "Well... thanks for the advice, Harry." He started, obviously deciding not to delve any further in to the matter. "I'll be around if you need... erm, anything." It was Ron's way of telling him he'd be around to talk if Harry was ever so inclined to finally open up about what was bothering him... and Harry sincerely appreciated the gesture. Both in the fact that he was there for him, and in the fact that he knew enough to know that Harry just didn't want to talk about it.
"Thanks." Was all he said in reply. It was really all he needed to say. Ron shrugged slightly... and then left Harry alone in his room. Alone with his thoughts. And he found that he could not keep them from turning to the painful idea he had had a couple days before. The thought of going away. Now, more than ever, it seemed to be the best thing.
For everyone.
****
She had awaken to screaming.
It had been a tough couple of days in Hermione Granger's world. It wasn't as though her life were easy by any means. Not that it had ever been. Ever since she had met up with the little red headed boy with dirt on his face, and the little raven haired boy with the curiously shaped scar on his forehead... things had seemed to get only progressively harder as time went on. Yet... one thing, through out the years, had remained good and had remained constant. As lives were stolen, as tears were shed, and as a war raged - Hermione knew she could always count on one thing.
The friendship she shared with Ron and Harry.
Except now, well... she wasn't quite sure if she could call what she and Harry had a friendship anymore. He seemed such a solitary creature recently... and then that kiss. What had he been thinking? She had only meant to hug him. It had been so long, really, since she had been able to... and she couldn't resist. But then he had gone and flipped her world upside down. He had kissed her. She had done nothing to provoke it. Nothing to suggest that she wanted it from him. Out of all the things he could have done at that moment, he had chosen to kiss her.
Oh... and how she had adored it.
She must have hidden it well, because no one had ever really suspected that Hermione had been in love with Harry Potter since late in their third year at Hogwarts. Perhaps, back then, it had been something more of a crush rather than love... but it certainly was love now, and had been for quite some time. She had tried to deny it to herself for so long, and would have denied to anyone who would dare ask her about it. Now, however, she knew that it would be impossible to fool herself in to believing she didn't have feelings for him. That kiss had ruined everything. It had shattered her peace of mind - had crushed the fragile hold she had of her emotions.
So, understandably, things had been rather... stressful for Hermione as of late.
Now, as she was brought out of sleep in the most horrifying of ways, she knew it was Harry who was crying out.
Hermione threw her blankets off of her and her feet over the bed. Grabbing her wand from the night stand, she didn't bother putting a robe or slippers on.
"Lumos!" She exclaimed as she hurried through the dark corridor to Harry's room. The tip of her wand erupted in to a bright white light that illuminated every dark corner within it's range. Hermione suddenly felt that she couldn't get to Harry fast enough...
She burst in through Harry's door, and what met her eyes... was nothing more than Harry tossing and turning in bed.
He was having a night mare.
Hermione put her hand to her heart and willed the beating to slow to a more manageable, and less painful rate. If she had been older, she was sure that she would have had a heart attack just then. She quickly extinguished her light and took a deep breath. She hadn't woken him up... but he was still calling out. Hermione creased her forehead and approached him slowly. Something seemed quite odd to her. Though he was, indeed, still calling out... it wasn't nearly loud enough to where she should have been able to hear it from her room which was several doors away.
A few moments of confusion eventually gave way to a very strange realization. She hadn't heard him from her room. She had awaken from nightmare of her own... one of Harry screaming and calling out of her to help him. It was a coincidence of the highest degree.
"No... no!" The words forced Hermione's eyes to focus on Harry - and all thoughts and confusion as to what had brought her here faded away. All she knew was that she was here now, and Harry was suffering. "If you hurt them, I'll kill you!"
The words were startling and tragic.
"Hermione... Ron! No!" And his voice was filled with such heart breaking despair, that Hermione felt as though her chest would collapse from the pain. He was dreaming about losing them. In a way... she was happy to hear it. It meant he still cared for them as much as he ever did. It meant, deep down where it mattered, he was still Harry. She swallowed and went to his side. Kneeling next to his bed, she placed her hand on his forehead, then through his hair, over his cheeks. He still stirred and moaned... but no more words.
"Shhh..." She whispered in to his ear. "No one's going to hurt us." At first, nothing happened... but then her words seemed to calm him a little. After a while, Harry fell silent and became still - his features softening. It seemed that he had drifted off to a more dreamless sleep.
Or at least, Hermione hoped, a nightmareless one.
****
Harry's eyes opened slowly. He blinked them a couple times to focus them as much as he could without his glasses. Sunlight poured in through the windows next to his bed... so it must have been morning.
Harry looked around suddenly, then sat up and grabbed his glasses from his night stand.
Morning? He was waking up in the morning, and not some time in the middle of the night? It wasn't as though it never happened, but it was rare enough to make him wonder about it. Especially since he remembered, very vividly actually, the beginning of a particularly wretched dream the night before. But there had been no end to it... it had sort of just faded away. Something, some calming presence, had made him feel as though everything would be okay. It had lulled him in to a sleep devoid of the things that terrified him most... and he had slept through the night.
He wondered, for a moment, if it could have been his mother.
Pushing the thought away, knowing it was impossible - he stood up. There was probably nothing out of the ordinary going on here. He had just had a good night's sleep, was all. He decided not to over think it, because really - it was something to be grateful for, wasn't it? No reason to look a gift horse in the mouth, and all that sort of thing... But there had been a presence last night, hadn't there been?
Harry shook his head. It was an idiotic notion. Presence? Some presence had magically appeared out of nowhere to see to it that Harry had a good night's sleep?...
Actually... stranger things had happened.
Harry performed his normal morning ritual - took a shower, brushed his teeth, got dressed, looked forlornly at his hair - except this morning it was done with a sort of bounce in his step that he hadn't had in quite a while. He had forgotten how wonderful it was to wake up to a sunlit sky and not feel tired beyond words. People took it for granted, but Harry wouldn't. By the time he made it downstairs for breakfast, he actually had a small smile on his face. He supposed this was what they meant by "getting up on the wrong side of the bed", except... the opposite of that.
Harry laughed to himself at that last thought as he poured himself some orange juice. Ron looked over at him from the kitchen table.
"What are you so happy about?" He asked. Harry looked at him over his shoulder - he hadn't noticed he was in there. He turned around and leaned against the counter.
"I'm just in a good mood this morning." He said, then took a sip from his orange juice.
"Glad one of us is." Ron responded, leaning his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand. Harry stared at him for a moment as he seriously contemplated saying something like, "well, that's too bad...", patting him on the back, and leaving. He was very rarely in a mood like this and he knew that whatever it was ruining Ron's morning... it would likely do nothing to make Harry's any better either.
"What's wrong?" He asked finally. In the end, Harry would always choose his friends over himself. Ron took in a deep breath.
"You should've seen Hermione before she left for work. She looked horrible."
Well that showed Harry for being such a Goddamn selfless person.
"... Why?" He asked tonelessly - his good mood having all but evaporated. He should have known better than to come downstairs. He should have just apparated to the ministry and locked himself in his office for the rest of the day.
"She's still hung up on that ponce." Ron whined as he dropped his head on to the table and covered it with his arms. "She's losing sleep over him now." He looked back over at Harry. "You should have seen her, Harry! She looked--"
"Horrible?"
"Tired. Tired and awful." He shook his head. "The way you usually look."
"Thanks, Ron." Harry responded, trying to remember if he actually was in a good mood a moment ago. Surely he couldn't switch moods that fast. He had only tricked himself in to thinking he had felt good that morning. That must have been it.
"I don't know how much longer I can go on like this... watching her carry on the way she is."
Harry set his juice down. Suddenly - he didn't really want it anymore. "She'll get over it. Hermione's a pretty resilient woman."
"You think so?" Ron asked hopefully.
"She'd have to be... sticking with you and me all these years."
Ron laughed a little. "That's true, I guess."
It was true.
And then, for seemingly no reason at all, the thought Harry did his best to avoid thinking about reared it's ugly head once again. The thought of him leaving for the greater good of those around him. He had told himself that he would think about it when he was less tired and able to think more clearly. Now was that time, and might have possibly been his last chance for a while. Merlin knew when the next time he slept through the night would be. Harry sighed. He couldn't keep coming back to this. He had to either put the thought out of his mind forever, or do it. He had to decide.
Looking at his watch, Harry took in a short breath and said three words that were particularly ironic after the thoughts that had just been going through his head. "I've gotta go."
****
"Y-y-you have no right." The chubby man said from the seat across from Harry's in the interrogation room. Sweat beaded over his upper lip and his forehead, and he looked horribly nervous. "I've done nothing wrong." Harry laughed shortly.
"I have every right." He responded. "I didn't want it to come to this, but if you don't tell us what happened that day I will personally extract the memory from you and watch it for myself." It was an idle threat at best. There really wasn't any way Harry could do this, but there was a good chance the man didn't know that.
"You can't do that!" The man exclaimed more out of outrage than intelligence. Harry remained as calm as ever.
"The ministry, particularly the auror department, has been very patient with you so far. If you refuse to help us, then we will be forced to assume that you are helping Voldemort--" The man cringed. "And you will be taken in to custody. Your memory will be extracted, and we will find out what happened. You may as well--"
"I already told you, I can't." The man interrupted vehemently - his face turning red. "And for you to imply that I could possibly have anything to do with you-know-who is an affront to my character, Sir." He sat back. "You have taken me from my home--"
"Your home?" Harry asked suddenly. The man went instantly still. "You live with the Pearls?" The man swallowed and shook his head slowly. Harry couldn't help but feel a little triumphant. They were finally getting somewhere. Mr. Nameless' chest began to rise and fall very quickly as he was breathing very hard. He was scared.
"Please." He said quietly. Harry was taken off guard by that. "Please, Harry." What a great psychological trick. Call a person by their first name and make them feel as though they know you better than they do. Perhaps make them trust you. Harry was too smart for this, of course... but he was impressed by it's use anyway. "I know about you. You help people. You're a good wizard and a good man."
"What does--"
"If you're as compassionate as you're rumored to be, then please... listen to me." The man pleaded, still as quiet as he was before. Harry could not deny the man's request. He nodded just twice to show he was listening, but still meant business. The man took a deep and shaking breath. "I would never do anything to hurt Mrs. or Mr. Pearl. Believe me when I say they are my whole life. Just know that they are both safe and that the reason I can't tell you what I know is a matter of life and death." He paused, and Harry said nothing. "When I say I can't tell you... I mean I can not tell you." Another pause. "Please. Please, you have to understand this."
And for some reason, Harry did.
The man was nameless, but not heartless. Not soulless. He needed saving as much as anyone else, and Harry would do what he could to help.
After all, that was just what Harry did.
****
Several hours later, Harry walked through the door and in to his bedroom, ready to try and sleep the night away. The operative word there, of course, being try. He had been happy that he was able to the night before, but was not enough of a fool to think that it would happen for two nights in a row. However, he was just worn out enough to think it could have been possible... though he had thought that before, and it had not worked out for him. And so... his expectations were not that high.
Harry took his glasses off and set them down on his night stand as he sat on his bed. After a few moments, he kicked off his shoes and laid back - not bothering to undress. He was either too lazy or too tired, but whatever the reason... taking off his clothes seemed a daunting task. He closed his eyes and felt that old familiar feeling of being comfortable and in bed washed over him. The kind of feeling a person could only get when they were beyond tired and beyond exhausted...
"Harry?" The name, spoken so softly, could have been a dream. Harry opened his eyes and looked toward the doorway. Hermione's silhouette stared back at him. An odd dropping feeling in Harry's stomach made him swallow, and subsequently sit up.
"Hermione..." He said as he reached for his glasses. He put them on and focused his eyes through the semidarkness. The moon was shining rather brightly through the window and Harry was pretty much able to see everything. He was especially able to see how beautiful Hermione looked in the moon light. Her skin looked at though she had been carved out marble, and even her eyes looked brighter. Harry wished he could pull her to his bed and fall asleep staring in to her eyes... nothing more than that. The sad truth that it would never happen was almost too much to bear at the moment.
And this was why he had been smart enough to avoid her for the last three days.
"Can we... Can I talk to you?" Hermione asked, fiddling nervously with her fingers. Harry swallowed again.
"Sure. Come in." He responded. Hermione walked in to the room, and over to Harry's bed. Hesitantly she sat down next to him. Harry moved over so that there was no danger of him touching her. Neither of them said a word for a long moment - the room becoming so silent that they could each hear the other breathe. Harry stared at his hands, out the window, out at his room - anywhere so that he wouldn't have to look at the beautiful woman who sat so near him on his bed.
"About the other night..." Hermione finally started. Harry nodded, looking back down at his hands.
"I'm sorry." He said before Hermione could get out another word. "I don't know what came over me."
"You regret it?"
"Of course I do." He said - hating the question and hating himself for lying to her, and then forced himself to meet her eyes. This nearly killed him. If he had wanted her before, he wanted her ten times as much now. He had to tell himself that this was all for the best... and that she didn't feel that way for him anyway.
She was in love with some bastard wanker, after all.
"I would never want to do anything to damage our friendship." He continued as he shrugged slightly. "I wasn't myself that night."
Hermione hid, very well, the fact that her heart had nearly stopped beating.
"I see." Was all she said in a very quiet voice. Harry bowed his head a little to look at Hermione's face as she was staring down at the bed.
"Would you forgive me?" He asked almost entreatingly. He had to hide his feelings from her - this much he knew... but he couldn't have her hating him or being angry with him. That would just be too much to take. He wouldn't be able to live with it. He had to know that they were okay. He knew he had been ignoring her and pushing her away, he knew kissing her had been wrong... but they just had to be okay.
Hermione forced a smile. A smile that Harry was very relieved to see, even though he might have noticed that it didn't quite touch her eyes.
"There's nothing to forgive." She responded. "But I would enjoy it very much if we could stop avoiding one another now." Harry laughed slightly.
"Agreed."
Hermione sighed and was still. She stared smiling slightly at Harry for a little while as though she had forgotten what was going on... and and then stood up suddenly. "I'm glad we've sorted that out."
Harry nodded. "Me, too." He said. It was such a simple phrase - "me too", but at the moment, it was the truest one. He was extremely glad. More and more he was beginning to see what Hermione really meant to him.
"Sleep well, Harry." Were Hermione's last words to him before she left the room. He felt her presence leave the room, and he instantly felt empty. As though he had lost a whole peice of himself. Is that how it was going to feel for now on whenever Hermione was not around? How was he going to sleep well when he was hurting so much inside?...
Though... that night, for some reason, Harry did sleep well.
Hermione, however, got no sleep at all.
*****
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