"He sent you a letter to tell you to stay away from me?" Harry repeated what Ron had just told him, eyes locked on the letter that his friend was holding.
Ron snorted and rolled his eyes. For a moment, the anger he felt towards his brother was brushed aside, replaced by annoyance at Harry. "That's what I just said, Harry. If you're goin' to ask me what's wrong, the least you could do is listen."
"I was listening! I just...Why would he write that?" The words came out almost as a whine, almost desperate sounding. It was all that Harry could do not to just reach and grab the letter from Ron, read it himself and make sure that it really said that. Really said that he was 'no good' and that Ron and everyone else should 'just stay away'.
It wasn't like he'd never heard that before. More and more often, people would whisper as Harry passed. Glared. Openly mocked and berated him. Acted like he was scum and it was his fault that the Death Eaters were nabbing people off the streets. But, somehow, those words didn't hurt as much as this.
As knowing that Percy, not Draco or Dean or Seamus, thought those things. Thought that he was a loon. Said that he was telling lies. Acted like he never cared.
Harry knew that they had parted on rough terms. He just hadn't realized how rough they had been. It hadn't actually hit him that he hadn't just lost Percy as a boyfriend, but even as something as simple as a friend.
The words that they'd exchanged the year before, at the end of the Tri Wizard Tournament, had been harsh. Cruel, even. Only Harry had been the only flinging insults. Percy had just stood there at first, looking beyond surprised, as he was ripped into.
Why?
Because he worked at the Ministry. Because, even though there was no proof past what Harry was telling him, he hadn't just up and believed him.
It's my job to listen to the Minister, Percy had said, I can't just tell him I believe you!
And it had made Harry so mad. They'd been dating for months now, since summer actually, and Percy couldn't believe him? It hadn't been right but, at the time, Harry hadn't cared. All the anger and fear and hatred that had sprung up in him since Cedric was killed the day before...It was all let out on Percy.
The Weasley didn't snarl back until the end. Even then, it wasn't an insult at Harry. It was a barb at Dumbledore, at how poor a choice it was to host the Tri Wizard Tournament. Percy had been the one to leave and the two hadn't spoken since.
Not even a letter.
"Because he's a git! That's why!" Ron's shout broke through Harry's thoughts, and the young Potter watched as the letter was crumpled up.
Thrown into the fire.
Sizzled and crackled and burnt.
And it felt like his chest was doing the same. Mouth suddenly dry, voice caught in his throat as he watched the paper burn down to nothing, Harry only gave a slight nod. The rest of Ron's complaints went over his head, unheard and unheeded, as he stared into the fireplace. Thoughts whirling and heart aching and then, without warning, it hit him. What he should, had, to do. What he had to tell the older boy.
"I'm going upstairs." Harry stated, cutting Ron off as he did.
The red-head gave him a disbelieving look but Harry was already out of the chair and headed up the stairs. Thankfully the Boys Dorm was empty. Everyone was still down in the Common Room, goofing off and working on school, which meant that he would be able to write out his letter without anyone trying to read over his shoulder and pester him about what it said.
Grabbing a blank sheet of parchment, ink, and a quill out of his trunk, Harry dropped down onto the floor by his bed. Popping the stopper off of the glass vial, he dipped the nib of his quill into it, and started to write.