Falling Apart At The Seams
Harry wasn't really listening to Ron talking up a pair of really pretty witches. Harry had wanted nothing more than to just go home and drink away his worries there. He glanced down in his glass, unsatisfied to see that there was just but a sip left. He wasn't above chewing the ice, but Harry wasn't in the mood to be there at the Enchanted Mistresses. Everyone here was too happy, too care free.
He tilted his cup, swirling the clear liquid inside. His hand was aching, and he was fairly certain he had broken it when he hit Malfoy. He chuckled. Malfoy hadn't seen that coming, and while he knew he would have to deal with it in the morning, he had to say it felt pretty good hitting Draco like that.
"Are you listening, Harry?" Ron asked laughing as one of the pretty girls leaned forward to whisper something in Ron's ear.
"Nah, what?" Harry said looking up at him.
"Cheyenne and Rebecca said that we could come back to their place if we want. It's a little quieter, and they would love to hear more of our stories," Ron said. Harry hesitated, looking at the girls. They were very pretty, indeed, and the thought of throwing himself into the bed of a semi-strange woman was tempting. The thought of Hermione floated into his mind, causing his insides to squirm. Harry glanced at his wrist watch.
"You know, I would love to," Harry said as he gathered his jacket. He down the last sip of his drink and placed it back on the counter. "I actually think I am going to head to Saint Mungo's and get this hand checked out."
"Do you want me to come?" Ron asked though it was more of a reflexive thing than an actual offer. Harry shook his head.
"Nah," Harry said. He nodded at the two girls. "Pleasure meeting you ladies."
Harry figured he had already told Ron that he was heading to get his hand checked; he might as well go get it checked. He walked the three blocks to Saint Mungo's and entered through the doors. It was maybe eleven, eleven-thirty but the place was quiet. Apparently it was a slow night. Harry walked to the counter and signed in, taking a clip board. He sat and began filling out the paperwork, hesitating only when it asked for his emergency contact. Hermione had always been the one, but Harry didn't think that she would appreciate a call in regards to him.
"Does it look bad, Mione?" A rather nasally sounding voice asked as two people rounded the corner.
"Yeah, Draco, it does," Hermione replied hesitating when she saw Harry sitting there, filling out his forms. He had looked up and he saw her with Draco again. He felt a stab in his chest.
`Must be anger,' he thought although it felt a lot like jealousy. He saw that Draco's face was pretty swollen, his nose broken. He had managed to bleed all over himself, and Hermione had a good bit of his blood on her as well.
"Let's just go," Hermione whispered to Draco as she hurried them out of the waiting room.
`If you hadn't been a prick, she would be comforting you,' Harry thought bitterly as he jab the quill into the paper at the end of his signature. He hated that his mind was mutinying against him. He dreaded the thought that if the mind could, so would the body.
Harry left the hospital a few hours later, and feeling rather low, started walking home. He was one of the few people who were out at this hour, and he found himself wishing that someone would have missed him enough to notice that he hadn't arrived home yet. Sad realization flooded over him. No one would miss him right away. How long would it take someone to realize that he was missing or gone before anyone looked for him? Kreatcher was used to him disappearing for days on end and wouldn't notice if he hadn't returned. It wouldn't have concerned the house elf.
Hermione would have cared enough. She was always worrying about him. Harry couldn't help but smile as he thought about her. She had been the one who had encouraged him when everyone was tearing him down. She had always clapped the loudest for him, cheered the hardest for him. Harry found himself outside of her house again, gazing up at the windows. He knew which one was her bedroom, mentally walking room to room in his mind. He wondered what she was doing up this late, the light still on behind her curtains.
He felt a wave of jealous and betrayal he saw a pair of silhouettes embrace before his eyes. He closed his eyes tight, hoping to erase the sight from his mind. He looked up, and he felt sick. She kissed him, and she was still kissing him. He turned away, hot tears threatening to tear him down on her sidewalk. He wiped his eyes on the back of his arm and fled the sidewalk.
He blinked, uncertain for a moment where he was. He hadn't planned on it, but he was standing outside of Ava's house. It was dark, and obviously everyone in the house was asleep. Harry wasn't thinking, but instead, as if in autopilot, he climbed the stairs to the porch and reached for the knob of the door. He was surprised to find it unlocked. Silently, he glanced around before ducking into the house. The neighbor across the street had seen him and already she was calling for assistance.
Harry remembered where Ava's room was and he took the steps as silently as he could, hesitating when the top step creaked horribly. There weren't any sounds of movement, so Harry continued. He had no idea what he was doing inside Ava's house but he knew he was there for a purpose. He could feel himself drawn to her.
Ava's room was dark, and he had a hard time making out the crib until he walked into it. The jolt woke Ava and she whimpered. Harry didn't have his cloak, and he knew he looked like hell. If someone found him in her room, he would definitely be in some serious trouble. Without a second thought, Harry scooped Ava up in his arms. She looked at him, her green eyes looking into his identical green eyes. He bit his lip, not wanting to start wailing like a baby. He hugged her, the child looking a little uncertain of this stranger in her room.
"Ava, I'm your daddy," Harry whispered to the child as he brushed her hair out of her face. She smiled slightly as she patted his cheek. Already, she was drifting back to sleep.
"Da-da," Ava murmured as she tucked her face against his neck. Harry bit back a sob, continuing to rock her in his arms. Tears streamed down his face, splashing soundlessly on his daughter and his clothes. He probably had never loved someone as completely as he did Ava. He would have stood there all night, if he could. He could tell he was about to lose it so he placed Ava back in her crib and covered her with the blanket.
He fled her room and barely made it to the covering of the woods before he broke down. He fell to his knees, his hands covering his face. He didn't hold back; his tears and his sobs echoed in the silence of the night, interrupted only by the sirens of the police. Harry stood up, realizing someone must have seen him enter Ava's house. He couldn't let himself be caught by the muggle police, and he turned, disappearing from Ava's house back to his own house.
Harry found his house silent and he didn't bother breaking that silence with his tears. He shook his head, ashamed. He fought his tears, ripping them with open hands from his face as quickly as they appeared. He ran up the stairs to his bedroom, pausing only long enough to set the taps for his shower. Harry tore the clothes from his body and willed himself to look at his reflection.
Shame washed over him as he glanced at his bandaged hand. He trembled as his eyes swept his body, and he felt his heart shatter when he finally met his own eyes. He didn't even bother to wipe away the tears that seemed to be never ending. He turned away, unable to stand before himself any longer.
He didn't flinch as the hot water poured over his skin, reddening it. He felt cold inside, as shivers shot through him. Ava's face flashed before his eyes. He cried out. Hermione floated into his mind and he placed his head against the cool tile.
"What is wrong with me?" Harry cried out in agony. He brought his fists to his temples as he curled himself into a ball, hoping to drown in his own bath tub. He shook with the sobs that seemed to rattle his body. He had felt lonely before, but this was so much worse. He felt abandoned, discarded.
He didn't bother drying off, instead trailed water from the shower to his bed. Harry threw himself across his bed, not bothering to dress. He figured he had a few hours before he needed to get ready for work. He let the bed swallow him slowly as he lay down upon it face down, his arm cradling his head. He closed his eyes, and for a brief moment let his mind wander carelessly back to three years ago when things were promising between Hermione and him.
Back then, he knew he loved her. He could deny it, but it would like denying his lungs needed air to breathe. She had been his world, and for a moment, he had been hers. He could almost feel his finger tips on his flesh and for a moment, he wanted nothing more than to revel in the chills that seemed to rack his body when she touched him.
He let a smile cross his lips slowly; he could practically feel her now. In fact, he could feel her now. He wrenched his eyes open to find the night had stolen away and daylight, more specifically late morning light, had filled his room. He turned his head to the person who was touching his arm, and looked right into Hermione's worried filled eyes.
"Harry, I need you," Hermione said as a tear slipped out of her eyes.
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