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Harry Potter sighed, alone in his room. The August night was sweltering in Little Whinging, and even with the windows open, there was no reprieve from the heat. Hedwig was out hunting; who knew when she would return. No, Harry thought, staring out the open window of his room in Number Four Privet Drive - I am alone.
It had only been two weeks since the events at the end of Harry's fifth year at Hogworts. Two weeks of reliving Sirius's death nightly in his dreams. Two weeks of waking up screaming, seeing Sirius pass beyond the veil once more. Two weeks of lying in bed as the tears came, followed by a vain effort at falling back asleep before the sun's rays came streaming in through his window to announce another miserable day's arrival.
Thanks to the words Harry's friends had spoken to the Dursleys at the train station at the end of term, Harry had been able to keep in contact with everyone from the wizarding world. Ron and Hermione had both sent him letters, asking how he was and attempting to comfort him. Harry wrote back, but his responses were full of what he knew they wanted to hear. Yes, he was fine. Yes, he was looking forward to finishing up summer at the Burrow with Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys. Yes, he would be ready for Arthur Weasley's arrival via flue powder.
Harry looked at the calendar and sighed. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would be leaving his aunt and uncle's home and going to spend the last two weeks of the summer holiday with his friends. He should be happy. So why, thought Harry miserably, wasn't he? Maybe somewhere in the awful past year, he had forgotten how to be happy. Perhaps all the negative things that had happened his fifth year at Hogworts had at last crushed his spirit. He chuckled at that thought. Harry Potter, the invincible boy who lived, who stymied the dark lord at every turn. He felt…broken. What would people think if they could see me now, he thought?
She was worried. The letters seemed ordinary enough, if you didn't know Harry well. She, however, knew him better than perhaps anyone else.
He was hurting. No, it was worse than that. Harry had been hurt before. She knew THAT better than anyone else too. This was deeper, worse. It was like his spirit, the thing that made Harry special, was gone. His letters lacked life, spark. Sirius's death had been some kind of awful final blow, the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Hermione only prayed that being back amongst his friends would heal Harry's heart….before it was torn asunder completely.
Mr. Weasley was right on time the following day, and after the usual cold send-off from the Dursleys, they were off to the burrow. Harry took a moment to recover from the temporary vertigo that always followed travel by flue powder, and saw a familiar face waiting for him in the Weasley living room.
"Harry! So good to see you my dear!" Mrs. Weasley gave him her patented hug, the one that had always brought a wonderful feeling of HOME to him. Harry smiled, and returned the hug, but there was little feeling in it. Sirius was dead. There was no home. Not anymore.
"Thanks for letting me stay with you all," he said with that same painted-on smile. "You are too good to me."
"Nonsense! We love having you over, you know that silly! And of course Ron…."
As if mention of his name had made him appear, the red-haired boy in question came bounding into the room. "About time! I just got the latest issue of Quidditch weekly, and they have this move you HAVE to see! We can break out our brooms after lunch and try it out. Let's get your things moved up to my room and get you settled in."
The sound of footsteps coming down the old staircase cut short Ron's tirade, and Harry looked up to see Hermione and Ginny. Ginny smiled and gave Harry a quick hug before hurrying out the door, leaving the three friends alone in the living room with Mrs. Weasley.
Hermione beamed at Harry, and quickly pulled him into an embrace. "I'm glad you're here," she said in his ear as she held him. Then, stepping away and speaking louder so Ron would hear as well, she continued. "We've missed you. Being together for the last two weeks of break will be great! We can get our books together, read together…."
Ron groaned, and Hermione laughed. "Ok ok. You know I am teasing, we will do more than just read and shop for school things."
"You're right we will! I have so many things planned, you'll see." Ron had that dangerous 'I'm planning things that will likely get us into trouble' look. Hermione turned to get Harry's opinion on the idea of Ron's "plans," and noticed he wasn't even paying much attention to their conversation. He had a distant look in his eyes, and his face was locked in a small frown.
"Are you ok Harry?"
Lifeless eyes turned to look at her. "Yes, I'm fine Hermione. Come on Ron, let's get this stuff upstairs."
Letting out a long sigh, Hermione hung her head. Feeling something touching her shoulder, she turned around and was surprised to see Molly Weasley looking at her with sympathy. "It will be a while before he is back to himself dear. All you can do is be there for him, and show him that you love him."
Hermione looked up quickly, panic in her eyes at mention of the word 'love.' She met the knowing gaze of Mrs. Weasley, who had a not unkind expression on her face. "No dear, it is not obvious, before you ask. But I can see it quite easily. Maybe one day, he will see it too. Or maybe, you will find it in yourself to tell him."
Face reddening, Hermione mumbled a reply under her breath and fled up the stairs. God, she thought. If Ron's mother could tell, who else could? Her thoughts quickly turned to Harry, and the helplessness returned in a rush.
Was there nothing she could do to help him? Did she dare reach out to him with the feelings in her heart? Holding her face in her hands, Hermione Granger wept silently.