Take Me Back To the Start
Chapter One: Betrayal and Loneliness
Disclaimer: I own nothing. You get it.
"Get back here, you… you bitch!" Harry's frustration was beginning to show.
Hermione ran harder towards the forest.
"Get away from me! I never want to see you again."
Harry was gaining on her. "Ok, I didn't mean bitch when I said it. But get back here!"
"NO!" She ran faster, faster, faster… until finally she lost energy completely. The night's events had drained her. She slowed to a walk in front of a tree and began kicking it furiously.
Harry sighed. "Hermione, stop. You're only going to hurt yourself."
She screamed loudly. "YOU'RE THE ONE WHO HURT ME, YOU SELFISH BASTARD!"
"I didn't mean to!" Harry said, exasperated.
"Oh, right. You didn't mean to exchange saliva with Lavender in front of the entire Gryffindor common room. You didn't even think twice about the fact that my heart might possibly be broken into a million … ARGH!" She began furiously punching the tree again.
Harry closed his eyes, and felt like punching something himself. "Look, I don't know how to explain this, but I swear to you, I wasn't responsible for that."
Hermione looked up and gave Harry a very, very cold stare. "That's bullshit Harry, and you know it. I don't even know why I haven't beaten the shit out of you yet."
"I'll tell you why. Because somewhere in that… umm…" Harry faltered at her death glare. "… gold heart of your's, you know that I'm telling the truth. Please, Hermione. I love you, don't do this to me. Don't hurt me."
"You want to talk about pain? I can't even tell you how I feel right now!" Everything was just replaying in her mind; she couldn't make it go away. "Just leave me alone, Harry. I'm sick of your excuses. I don't need to put myself through this anymore. You're dead to me." She said it as though she was convincing herself. With one last furious kick at the tree (which was quite battered at this point), she stomped away.
Harry watched her walk up to the front doors and nearly bowl over a poor first year on his way to detention. He sighed and thought to himself. The entire house is going to think I'm some sort of player… Not to mention my best friend. Oh crud… Ron. What's he going to think? God, he's going to kill me. Harry could hardly believe what he himself knew was true: I cheated on Hermione. In front of all of Gryffindor, no less. But Harry had spoken the truth. It was not his doing. This was dark magic, and Harry had no control over it. Someone cast a spell on me. Someone hexed me, I had no control. But who? He recounted the night in his head.
It was the night before the Quidditch match before everyone had been talking about. The Gryffindor team was up against Ravenclaw, and rumor had it that their team had greatly improved since last year; that they were a team that could even take down Gryffindor. However, their seeker had recently had a nasty accident, which caused his appendages to play a sort of musical chairs every five minutes. His replacement was known for being awful on the pitch. The entire house was celebrating, some kids had even smuggled in firewhiskey. Harry, after an unfortunate drunken night in his sixth year, was sworn off the stuff for fear he might do something stupid. He was having a great time, laughing with Ron and canoodling with Hermione. After they started going out, they were instantly the school's "power couple." They had been going out for three months, and their relationship was still strong.
The trouble began when Harry got up from his armchair to go get some pumpkin juice. He was surveying the common room when his eyes connected with Lavender Brown's. Suddenly, he felt a spark go through him, like someone had lined his spine with Christmas lights and plugged them in. He started swiftly walking toward her. He could see nothing else, she was his objective. Practically in slow motion, he saw himself reaching for her face, connecting his body to her's. No, He thought. What am I doing? He tried to control his hands, his lips, but it was too late. Before he knew what was happening, he had fiercely attacked her mouth with his, and she didn't seem to mind.
He knew people were staring, but his brain didn't care. It was only when his eyes connected with Hermione's that he fully realized what he was doing. Something in his brain snapped when he saw the tears in her eyes. He pulled away from Lavender immediately, and she looked confused. Come to think of it, Harry was extremely confused himself. He stood for a moment, trying to get a grip, when he thought, Run. He was about to dash for the portrait hole when Hermione got there first. She ran out in a rage and never looked back. Harry, feeling nothing else, ran after her like he was running for his life. I need you, he thought. I'm sorry, you mean everything to me. But she couldn't hear his thoughts. So she ran on.
Harry came back to real time, and trudged slowly towards the common room. He quickly realized that there would be an imminent blood bath if he was to return, and decidedly turned absently to the right, hoping to find his way to a safe haven. He walked, unthinkingly, until he approached a golden door, and walked inside.
It took Harry a moment to take in his surroundings. An ivy-green shag carpet caressed the floor. The walls were covered in purple tapestries, the floor littered with books and goose-feather pillows. Two gilded hourglasses stood tall in the center of the room. As Harry's curiosity increased, he took a step closer to examine them further. It seemed that the left hourglass was showing people being born, and sapphire crystals floated to the upper chamber every few seconds. The right hourglass, obviously, dropped emeralds to represent another person dying. Harry watched intently for ten minutes, yet the seemingly-enchanted hourglasses never ran out of gems to count.
"Fascinating," Harry breathed. For the first time in hours, he was at peace.
Just taking in the rich sights around him, Harry flopped into a large pile of pillows. He was staring absentmindedly at the ceiling, not really focusing, when he realized that there was a TV screen on the ceiling. Harry was shocked and excited at the same time. I've never seen a TV at Hogwarts before! He thought.
Harry looked around for a remote control, but he found none. The TV, however, like almost everything else in the room, seemed to know how he felt. It was showing Muggle music videos, Harry's favorite guilty pleasure. He grinned at the thought of Ron finding him watching Britney Spears videos. But instead, the TV played mostly lyrically-driven piano ballads. Things like John Legend, Ben Folds, Keane, and the like. Harry was intrigued by the way the words touched his heart. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, when a video from Coldplay came on. It was called "The Scientist." The hair on the back of his neck rose at the sound, the chords just rippled through his body. But the words touched him most.
"Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are
I had to find you Tell me your secrets
Tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart
And ask me your questions
Oh let's go back to the start"
The lyrics really hit home for Harry, and he got up with purpose and walked to the other side of the room. While trying to organize his thoughts, he tripped over something rather large and fell on his face. Luckily, the shag carpet somewhat broke his fall, if not only managing to fill his mouth with green fuzz. He turned around to see what had tripped him, and saw a very large book. He stood up to get a better look at it. It was very plain-looking. Harry picked it up (with great effort) and searched the brown binding for a title, but found none. Once again, his curiosity beat out his common sense (saying, "THAT'S PROBABLY DARK MAGIC," no doubt), and opened the front cover.
It was not, in fact, dark magic, as far as Harry could see. Actually, it seemed to a fairy tale book. It was much like any other story that started with "Once Upon a Time…" A damsel in distress, a knight in shining armor, a dangerous sorcerer, you know the drill. But it was such a relief for Harry to get lost in a silly story. For hours he sat and read, cleansing his mind.
When he had finished the rather lengthy tale, he began to cry. Not for the princess, not for the dead sorcerer, but for himself. What will I do? He wondered. Can I try to apologize? Will it do me any good? I just wish I could escape. From everything. Harry sighed, and wiped away his tears. He had learned long ago that some things cannot be changed, and that it's not worth the tears. He knew what he had to do: He had to go back, and face his past. His future. And his present.
…………….
Hermione stormed into the common room. Everyone looked up. Some of them had looks of pity, others were sneering. But Hermione returned every glance with a look that said I dare you to speak. Not surprisingly, no one did.
She was doing an excellent job of being angry and defensive until she caught sight of Ron, sitting in one of the two comfy chairs next to the fire, saving the other for her. She just fully appreciated the multitude of his loyalty, and the impact of Harry's betrayal, and broke down. She threw herself into the plush cushions of the chair and cried short, gasping breaths.
"Hermione, don't…" Ron started. "Don't cry; I'm here. Please, don't cry." It was very difficult for Ron, knowing that there was nothing he could say.
She almost laughed. "Is that all you can say?" She said bitterly, through tears. It's not his fault, Her better judgment said. He's doing the best he can. Hermione rethought her words. "No, I'm sorry. Thank you for being here for me." She tried her hardest not to, but again she began to cry.
Ron began to rub her back, using soothing words. A few minutes later, Harry entered the common room. At that time, many had already gone to bed. Ron looked up and saw Harry, who gave him a questioning glance, nodding towards Hermione. Ron gave him a look. Harry signaled for the boy's dormitory. (Hermione had not yet noticed Harry's arrival; he wanted to keep it that way.)
Ron whispered something to Hermione and walked with Harry to their rooms. When they got there, neither had anything to say. Harry was ashamed, and Ron was confused and angry.
Harry began to speak. "Look, Ron, this must be hard for you…"
"Yeah, actually it kind of is, Harry," he began. "I mean, what am I supposed to do? You're my best mate, but how can I stand up for you when poor Hermione is falling to pieces? You messed up bad. And now I'm paying for it." Ron chided himself inwardly; he hadn't meant to say all of that. He didn't want Harry to feel worse than he, Ron was sure, already did.
Harry couldn't take much more of this. "Listen, I know what I did was wrong, but it wasn't my fault. Please, Ron, you have to believe me."
"What, am I supposed to believe that you were hexed or something?"
"Well… yes," Harry admitted.
Ron shook his head. "How can I believe you? How do I know that you're not lying? I mean, it doesn't exactly make sense. Why would someone hex you to make out with Lavender?"
"I don't know either," Harry said. "But you have to believe me."
"Harry, I'm sorry, but I can't," Ron confessed. "Until you can prove this to me, I don't know if I can trust you. I'm sorry, but Hermione needs me." And with that, Ron left the dormitory to comfort Hermione.
Harry paced a few times around the room before he flopped down on his four-poster bed. Too many thoughts raced through his head, too much anguish. He felt like someone had knocked him over the head with a bludger. He didn't know what to think, but he knew one thing for sure: He wanted answers. What I really need is some sleep, he thought. And that's what he did.
…………….
Hermione, however, could do no such thing. After three hours of tossing and turning in her bed, she finally resolved to go down and sit in front of the fire. There was no one else in the common room, so she felt no insecurity in openly weeping. At first she had thought that all of her tears had been used up, but there still seemed to be more inside of her.
"Why am I crying?" She said, to no one in particular. "It's not like I actually care about that selfish… oh, who am I kidding. Of course I care about him! Hell, I love him! I wish I didn't. How could he do this to me?"
This was followed by similar rambling. She conjured up a cup of tea for herself, and felt much better after letting her feelings out in words. For a little while she sat and sipped her tea, dreaming of a fantasy world where Harry never kissed Lavender, and he had eyes for her alone. A fantasy world where he could somehow prove to Hermione that he was innocent. That was what she wanted most of all: a way to believe him. God, she wanted so badly to believe him. Then things could go back to normal. But she couldn't block out the notion that he was using magic as an excuse for cheating on her.
She sighed and stood up to walk back to the girl's dormitories. She opened the door to her room, and tried to be silent as to not awake her room mates. She was about to dive into the bedding of her four-poster when she caught sight of snowflakes falling outside the window. In somewhat of a trance, she walked over to the window and watched the never-ending barrage of snowflakes fall to the ground. Somehow, they told her that everything would be alright. No matter what will happen, they told her it would all be ok. And she believed them. Somehow, she found her way back to her bed, and fell into a deep sleep.
AN- Ok… finally a new story. I've never done a HP fic before, so please excuse me if it sucks horribly. (I so hope it doesn't.) Next chapter will probably pertain to dealing with the gossip, not to mention Lavender. (Haha… that's got catfight written all over it.) Please review, it means a lot to me, and as you may see with my other story, when the reviews stop, I stop.