To even consider the fact that I own Harry Potter in any way is ridiculous, as much as I want it, but, oh well, you can't have everything.
This is my attempt to make a Post-Hogwarts fic, my attempt at giving Harry a dark attitude. Tell me what you think. I don't know where this came up, I felt troubled, so I wrote this. I don't even know how I feel about it.
Oh, well. Whatever.
Enjoy! (as if this were some sort of movie or something, pssshhh)
"We just want to help you, mate." said Ron, a tone of plea in his voice.
There they sat, in Harry's living room, drinking tea from mugs. After the War was over, Harry stayed a week with the Weasley's, before moving to a little flat in Muggle London; he didn't go to Grimmauld Place, even though it was his. He didn't think that he would ever be able to set a foot on it again. Come to think about it, there were many places he would never set foot in again.
"Harry…" Hermione whispered. When Ron and Hermione had discussed confronting Harry they were expecting shouts, explosions, things flying around, but a silent Harry was a million times worse than an angry Harry. Harry, on the other hand, was gripping his mug so tightly to keep his hands from shaking, that his knuckles were starting to whiten.
"I-don't-need-help." Harry seethed. "I don't want it."
"We think it would be really good for you. Ron and I, we've gone to a few sessions with Healer Sullivan, and she's actually pretty good. She's helped us a lot." Hermione said.
"Well, good for you. Go to all the sessions you want, but I am not going to go. I don't need it"
"Harry, if there is anyone who needs help it's-"
And there went Hermione's mug. It simply flew out of her hand and shattered against the wall. Hermione's jaw dropped, her eyes filling up with tears.
"I-I'm so sorry, Hermione! I didn't- you know…I didn't. I would never-"
"I know, Harry, I know. I-I…it's your choice, anyway." she said, reaching for his hand and enveloping it in her own.
Harry looked from Ron to Hermione. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Why did they keep insisting? Why don't they let him be?
"I'll think about it."
That was two days ago, and now Harry found himself sitting in front of a middle-aged woman, smiling at him sweetly, with a clipboard on her legs. The sight reminded him powerfully of Umbridge. He suppressed a shudder at the thought. At least, instead of pictures of cats, she had pictures of her family and awards. Ms. Sullivan didn't seem like an not trustworthy person, she didn't seem like a Death Eater, but Harry knew well enough that you didn't have to have a Dark Mark to be evil.
An image flashed through his mind:
"Besides, the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters"
God, just STOP thinking, he tells himself, shutting down the memory.
"So, Mr. Potter-can I just call you Harry? It makes everything more comfortable, you know?" she asked.
"Sure. I guess" he shrugs.
"Okay, so, we can talk about anything you want. Care to set a topic?"
This was the part that he hated. This woman didn't give a damn about what was going on with him. She didn't care and neither did he. Another memory flashed through his mind:
"I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE!"-
Stop. Thinking. NOW.
"Uh…"
"Are you worried that I'm going to sell your secrets to the Daily Prophet or something?" she asked.
"To tell you the truth, I am." Oh, well, he thought, if we're going to do this I better be honest.
"I'm glad that you were honest, Harry." Is she using Legilimency against me or something?
"Can I ask you a question, Harry?"
"Sure."
"Are you going back to finish your 7th year? Are you going back to Hogwarts?" she asked quietly.
He flinched when she said it, when she mentioned Hogwarts. He could feel his hands shaking, but he wasn't going to lose his temper with this woman, he wasn't going to give this woman a reason to get him locked up in St. Mungo's or something of the sort. He took a deep breath.
"No. I'm not. Not now, maybe not ever."
"…"
"…"
Ms. Sullivan sighed.
"Are you still having nightmares?"
"I'm not-"
"There's no use denying it, Harry. One of your friends- I won't say names- has already told me"
"Hermione, obviously, I know her." He and a certain bushy haired friend were going to have a talk when he got out of this.
"So, are you?"
Harry didn't trust his voice; he could feel the lump coming. Why he agreed to do this was beyond him. He nodded.
"What do you see?"
"I see…them. All of them."
"Do you see Lily and James?"
"Don't say their names!"
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. But, Harry, you need to face this. You can't keep hiding, and bottling up everything. It's not healthy." she said, with a bit of pity in her voice.
"You'd be surprised by how deep my bottle is."
"It's still not healthy, Harry. I'm here to help you."
"I don't want your help. I don't want to talk about how I feel, all right?" he growled. His hands were still shaking.
"Maybe you don't want it, but you need it. Your friends are very concerned, Harry. Did you know that?"
He scoffed. "Of course I know that, they forced me to come here, did they not?"
"They did it because they care, because they love you."
Harry remained silent. He didn't really want to go into the "love" topic again.
"I don't think that your parents, or the other friend you lost in the War wou-"
"DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT THEM!" he roared, standing up.
And there went Ms. Sullivan's . Sullivan's pictures exploded, glass shards flying everywhere.
"Protego! Reparo!" she shouted.
"I…I am so sorry. I didn't mean-"
"It's all right, Harry. This session is over," she said, not unkindly, not coldly, but she was surprised. She hadn't expected this. "you can come back next Wednesday, okay?"
He ran out of the building and Apparated to his flat.
Fantastic, he thought to himself, bloody fantastic, blowing up her office like that. Really smooth, Potter.
He paced around, blindly, so he didn't notice that certain bushy haired friend sitting in his couch, looking at him.
"How'd it go?" she asked
"Really good. I blew up most of her pictures."
Her eyes grow wide, but she knows better than to shout at him, she knows better. "What do you mean?"
"I blew up her pictures. They exploded the glasses in them exploded. It's pretty straight forward, really."
"I mean, why?" she said, rolling her eyes. She doesn't like this Harry. This isn't her Harry. Her Harry isn't like this.
"What's that Muggle phrase? – What happens in there stays in there. Sorry, Hermione." He said coolly. "And I would appreciate if you didn't go around telling her that I have nightmares, thank you." He walked to the kitchen, he was suddenly starving.
"I only told her because I care." she whispered.
This made him stop. He knew she was crying, he knew that she did it with the best intentions, and yet, here he was, hurting her. God, could he do anything right?
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sorry."
Suddenly, they were both holding each other. Her arms went around his neck, and his arms were around her waist. They were clinging to each other, and he kept apologizing to her hair, with her face buried in his neck. When she stopped crying, she raised her head, to look at him, to look into those green eyes she knew so well, to see if maybe Her Harry was buried in them.
"If you'd like…I could brew you a Sleeping Potion. It wouldn't last long, but, it would help you, I guess. Keep…them away." She said quietly, fearing that he would start raging at her for bringing it up. Instead, his face softened.
"You'd do that?"
"Yeah, and, if one night, you just…wake up to one of them, you can Apparate to my flat if you'd like. To talk, if you want, or if you don't want to talk about it…that's fine, too."
"Thank you. Hermione, I l-"he stopped. What was he going to tell her? Rewind. Pause. He was going to say that? He really was? Did he really?
Yes, you do, do twit, said a voice from the back of his head. He didn't know why, but it sounded like Luna, for some reason or another. I love her. IloveherIloveher. IloveyouIloveyou.
She just buried her face in his neck again. She knew what he was about to say, but she was going to wait. Wait for him to realize for real, wait for him to say it to her.
She brushed her lips against his neck, silently telling him I love you back.
"I'm here to help you, Harry. Remember that."