'friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... it has no survival value; rather, it is one of those things that give value to survival.' C.S. Lewis
November 7th, 1997
There is snow on the ground at Hogwarts and the twins are laughing at something Lee is holding in his hands. Dean and Seamus are arguing over sports – Harry tunes in at one particular moment to hear football defended passionately by Dean – and several first years are running around, throwing balls of ice at each other. Then from behind him, Harry feels a snowball hit the back of his head, uncomfortably running down his robes. He turns around -
"Harry?"
He blinks, and the memory is gone. Replacing the images of a Christmas at Hogwarts is Hermione, eyes blood-shot and full of tears, her mouth turned down in a frown. Her swollen face reminds him of why she had been crying, and a certain hollowness forms in his chest. He knows he will not be able to rid himself of it, but he knows how – who – can get rid of it.
She hands him a bucket.
"We need some more berries," she says hoarsely. "Could you...?"
Wordlessly, Harry takes the empty bucket out of her hands and walks out of the tent.
He spots a bush not too far off from their location, very nearly hidden from sight. Harry begins to gather, going through the familiar motions without thinking, when he cuts his hand on a thorn from the berry bush. His swears are muted, at first, but he notices the empty feeling in his chest doesn't sting as much when he curses. His voice grows louder, his swears more vile, until spoken oaths become screams, and they sound wild, like some hurt animal crying for help. When he finishes he gasps for breath, shaking uncontrollably, collapsing on his hands and knees.
- and Ron looks back at him, a small smirk growing on his lips.
"Gotcha," he grins. Harry grins back, though the small stabs of annoyance are still present. He fights them down.
There were better battles to pick, anyway.