A/N: Warning, sad fic ahead. Pull over now if you are prone to crying, like I am.
Harry Potter lay on the floor in the cupboard, shivering under the threadbare blanket they had given him. Everything he was wearing was covered in blood, and he was bruised and swollen everywhere. He waited until he heard no sound, and began to pack. He folded the small strip of fabric he was under, and put it in the trunk, which he had stolen from the closet, along with his poor, badly hurt owl, Hedwig.
He unlocked the door with his wand, not caring about breaking the Decree for Underage Wizardry. He stole to the phone, being careful not to wake the Dursleys. He didn't want to be hit again. His ribs ached dully, and his arm was bent the wrong way, and bleeding badly. He dialed the number for Hermione Granger.
*Call you up in the middle of the night
Like a firefly without a light
You were there like a blowtorch burning
I was a key that could use a little turning*
Hermione answered, sleep clouding her voice. When she heard his cracked, broken voice, she was wide awake.
"Harry? You sound terrible! What's going on?" She sounded scared.
"Hermione, I have to come to your house. Will your parents mind? I have to get out!" He was whispering, as not to wake the Dursleys.
"No, of course not. But what's wrong?" Hermione insisted on knowing.
"I can't tell you here. I'll tell you when I see you." He hung up on a fresh protest and dug out the last of his Floo Powder. He walked to the fireplace, got in with his trunk and Hedwig, and said "Hermione's house!" very loudly. He heard Uncle Vernon coming down the stairs, but by the time Vernon reached the fireplace, he was gone.
He arrived with a cough and splutter in Hermione's fireplace. She was waiting for him, but what she saw was NOT at all what she expected. A bloody figure walked out of her fireplace, and Hermione screamed.
"Harry! What have they done to you?" She rushed forward and grabbed him just as he lurched out of the fireplace. She helped him over to the couch and sat him down. Dried blood flaked off his pants, and he gasped. She noticed that he was thin and looked dehydrated, and she rushed to get him some food and water. When she came back, and he ate, he was barely strong enough to tell his story.
When he finished, Hermione was staring at him, mouth hanging open.
"You need sleep...come back to my room. She led him into her room and into the adjoining bathroom. She stripped him down and ran a bath. Her mother, bleary eyed, walked into the room.
"Hermione, what....oh my God! Is that Harry?" Her mother rushed over to help Hermione. They lowered him into the bathtub and began to carefully wash the fresh and dried blood off of him with washclothes. When they were done, the water was red, and they could better see Harry's wounds. He was cut and bruised, and several ribs and an arm were broken. They put him in Hermione's fathers pajamas and took him to the nearest hospital.
Harry was too out of it to care where he was, but they couldn't set his arm. It was too bad. Hermione and her mother, dejected, went home. When they arrived home, Hermione led him to the extra bed in her room, and pointed her wand at his arm, not even thinking about the Decree for Underage Wizardry.
"Shatero reparo!" His arm quickly stopped bleeding and set itself. She did the same for his ribs, and tucked him in.
"Don't worry, Harry. We'll take care of you." She pulled her covers over herself, and quickly fell asleep, but Harry remained awake. He told himself not to cry, but he failed. He started crying, and the sobs sounded harsh in the dark night.
*So tired that I couldn't even sleep
So many secrets I couldn't keep
Promised myself I wouldn't weep
One more promise I couldn't keep*
After hours of crying, he finally passed out onto the pillows, not waking up for 12 more hours. When he woke up, Hedwig was sitting in her cage, her feathers still bloody and several of them broken and bleeding, but her legs were no longer broken, and he was thankful for that. Hermione came in with some breakfast, and he ate ravenously. Hermione brought him back into the bathroom and bathed his wounds gently again, and he allowed her to do this.
When she brought him back into the room, he quickly fell asleep, and she left the room. He slept all the rest of the day, and when Hermione came in to shower and get ready for bed, he was still fast asleep. He slept until the next morning. Hermione brought more breakfast, and he shoveled it in again. He was already starting to look less emanciated, and she was grateful for that.
Several days later, the same thing was still happening, and Hermione resolved to ask him about the whole ordeal. The bruises and cuts were so bad, they still weren't healing. Her mother had gone shopping and bought him new clothes for when he got out of bed, but he was still bedridden. He refused to talk about it. All he said was that Hermione couldn't help him. He claimed there was nothing more she could do, and he hugged her weakly. He kept muttering that the whole thing was his fault, and Hermione shook her head, turning away to hide her tears.
*It seems no one can help me now
I'm in too deep there's no way out
This time I have really led myself astray
Runaway train never going back
Wrong way on a one way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I'm neither here nor there*
She kept this up for the next couple days, bringing him books on Quidditch and all sorts of stuff to do. He wasn't interested in anything anymore.
"I'm not good at anything. They told me that I'm nothing." He muttered faintly the same things over and over. He didn't care about anything anymore. Hermione brought him a joke book, trying to make him laugh, but he just turned away, refusing to give in to the stupidity of the jokes. Hermione watched helplessly as he became more and more withdrawn.
*Can you help me remember how to smile
Make it somehow all seem worthwhile
How on earth did I get so jaded
Life's mystery seems so faded*
He began muttering to himself more and more often, and Hermione began to worry. She cried many tears for him, and he had no idea. She had weeped openly in front of him, begging and pleading with him to talk to her. He showed no sign of even knowing who she was, or that she was there at all. Hermione threw herself on her bed and cried hysterically. She watched, helpless and in the way, as Harry slipped in and out of consciousness. It was worse than she had feared.
*I can go where no one else can go
I know what no one else knows
Here I am just drownin' in the rain
With a ticket for a runaway train*
Hermione spent more time with him, and less time elsewhere. She spent countless hours by his side, his cold, pale hand held tightly in hers as he fought to return to consciousness. Hermione grew thin and pale, her hair falling about her face in ragged clumps, the dark circles under her eyes becoming more pronounced with every day by his side. When he was conscious, he muttered to himself about an empty dry land full of misery. Hermione supposed it was his dreams that were troubling him. He stopped eating, and grew deathly thin again.
*Everything is cut and dry
Day and night, earth and sky
Somehow I just don't believe it*
Hermione pulled herself away from him one day, and looked in the mirror. Her reflection startled her. Her hair, unwashed, fell about her shoulders in ragged, greasy clumps, her face, pale and drawn, and her body, thin and pale. She went right back to his side, and her mom braved the morose room to bring her some food. She ate sparsely, keeping an eye on him the whole time. No wonder he had run away. He had looked horrible, and he was now screaming and jerking around in his sleep.
She began to cry. When Harry was asleep, he screamed and cried, but when he was awake, he muttered and whimpered, avoiding any questions she asked about the abuse. She thought he was going insane. She now realized it was a defense against facing the terrible pain.
*Bought a ticket for a runaway train
Like a madman laughin' at the rain
Little out of touch, little insane
Just easier than dealing with the pain*
She rocked back and forth, and fell asleep in the chair she had pulled up to the bed, still clasping his deathly cold hand. He was still asleep when she woke up hours later, and he looked like he wasn't breathing. Hermione quickly checked for a pulse. He was breathing, but the movement was shallow and erratic, and she began to get worried. Her mom brought her meals, brushed her hair, and did everything for her, but she never left Harry's side.
He awoke a little while after she did, and finally, after days, looked at her and spoke.
"Don't make me go back."
*Runaway train never going back
Wrong way on a one way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I'm neither here nor there*
She broke out in a fresh wave of tears, and held his hand to her face.
"I won't, Harry. Believe me, you're never going back." He nodded faintly and fell asleep. Hermione quickly realized that his breathing, which had become normal for a moment, was shallow and erratic again. Hermione called a doctor, who came right to the house and looked over Harry, listening to his breathing, clocking his pulse, normal stuff like that.
Hermione watched expectantly, and her face fell when the doctor looked at her. His face was grim as he asked what had happened to him. She told his story, and at the end, the doctor nodded.
"Sorry to tell you this, but he has more problems than the visible ones. He has had internal bleeding, which obviously started out slowly, but the lacerations on his organs have become too severe. He doesn't have long to live." Hermione nodded, and handed the doctor his money. After he left, she threw herself across Harry's chest and sobbed, face buried in her arm. She stopped crying and settled one hand on his chest, taking his cold hand in the other.
His breathing had become very sparse, and Hermione knew he didn't have long. She leaned over and whispered in his ear.
"We all love you, Harry. There are people on this God-forsaken planet who love you very much." Her voice broke as she said this, and just as she finished, Harry took in a long, raspy breath and went limp. Hermione cried hysterically and called for her mom. Her mom walked in, tears already forming in the corners of her eyes.
"You're never going back, Harry. Ever." Hermione's broken voice was strangled by a fresh wave of sobs as she remembered her promise to him. She hugged him as best she could without moving him, and used Hedwig, who was fully healed, to send letters to Sirius, Dumbledore and Ron.
They buried Harry underneath a weeping willow on the Hogwarts grounds several days later. Hermione's mother, Hermione, Ron and his family, Sirius and all the Hogwarts professors, even Snape were present, along with most of the school. Even Madam Pomfrey and Filch were there. Hermione stood next to the tombstone and began her speech.
"When I saw Harry, just 2 weeks ago, he seemed fine, save some bruises, cuts and broken bones, which I quickly mended. He stayed in bed, and slowly got stronger. Sadly, as the doctor told me, the bleeding in his major organs caused the holes to get bigger, also causing Harry to become cold and pale. I stayed with him..." Her voice began to break, but she continued. "I stayed with him, refusing to leave his side, and I promised him he would never go back. Right before he died, I told him that there were people on the God-forsaken planet that did love him, and that we would miss him." She stopped and looked around.
"Harry drew his final breath as I finished my sentence, and after he died, I recalled my promise that I would never let him go back. And I never would." Hermione managed to hold her tears until the end, and she rushed forward into her mom's arms. Everyone threw flowers onto the grave, and after several minutes of silence, left. All, that is, except Hermione.
She stooped and placed a single white rose on the grave, on top of all the other flowers. She let several tears fall, and, standing up, ran to join her mother, leaving Harry alone in his final resting place. He was finally at peace, and he never had to go back.
*Runaway train never comin' back
Runaway train tearin' up the track
Runaway train burnin' in my veins
Runaway but it always seems the same*
A/N: WAH! I feel like crap after this. *needs a hot shower and a Unisom* Sorry, for all you Harry fans out there, and that includes myself, but I just went with what my fingers typed. For those of you who DON'T know, the song is Runaway Train, by Soul Asylum, written about run aways...it seemed perfect.
Harry Potter lay on the floor in the cupboard, shivering under the threadbare blanket they had given him. Everything he was wearing was covered in blood, and he was bruised and swollen everywhere. He waited until he heard no sound, and began to pack. He folded the small strip of fabric he was under, and put it in the trunk, which he had stolen from the closet, along with his poor, badly hurt owl, Hedwig.
He unlocked the door with his wand, not caring about breaking the Decree for Underage Wizardry. He stole to the phone, being careful not to wake the Dursleys. He didn't want to be hit again. His ribs ached dully, and his arm was bent the wrong way, and bleeding badly. He dialed the number for Hermione Granger.
*Call you up in the middle of the night
Like a firefly without a light
You were there like a blowtorch burning
I was a key that could use a little turning*
Hermione answered, sleep clouding her voice. When she heard his cracked, broken voice, she was wide awake.
"Harry? You sound terrible! What's going on?" She sounded scared.
"Hermione, I have to come to your house. Will your parents mind? I have to get out!" He was whispering, as not to wake the Dursleys.
"No, of course not. But what's wrong?" Hermione insisted on knowing.
"I can't tell you here. I'll tell you when I see you." He hung up on a fresh protest and dug out the last of his Floo Powder. He walked to the fireplace, got in with his trunk and Hedwig, and said "Hermione's house!" very loudly. He heard Uncle Vernon coming down the stairs, but by the time Vernon reached the fireplace, he was gone.
He arrived with a cough and splutter in Hermione's fireplace. She was waiting for him, but what she saw was NOT at all what she expected. A bloody figure walked out of her fireplace, and Hermione screamed.
"Harry! What have they done to you?" She rushed forward and grabbed him just as he lurched out of the fireplace. She helped him over to the couch and sat him down. Dried blood flaked off his pants, and he gasped. She noticed that he was thin and looked dehydrated, and she rushed to get him some food and water. When she came back, and he ate, he was barely strong enough to tell his story.
When he finished, Hermione was staring at him, mouth hanging open.
"You need sleep...come back to my room. She led him into her room and into the adjoining bathroom. She stripped him down and ran a bath. Her mother, bleary eyed, walked into the room.
"Hermione, what....oh my God! Is that Harry?" Her mother rushed over to help Hermione. They lowered him into the bathtub and began to carefully wash the fresh and dried blood off of him with washclothes. When they were done, the water was red, and they could better see Harry's wounds. He was cut and bruised, and several ribs and an arm were broken. They put him in Hermione's fathers pajamas and took him to the nearest hospital.
Harry was too out of it to care where he was, but they couldn't set his arm. It was too bad. Hermione and her mother, dejected, went home. When they arrived home, Hermione led him to the extra bed in her room, and pointed her wand at his arm, not even thinking about the Decree for Underage Wizardry.
"Shatero reparo!" His arm quickly stopped bleeding and set itself. She did the same for his ribs, and tucked him in.
"Don't worry, Harry. We'll take care of you." She pulled her covers over herself, and quickly fell asleep, but Harry remained awake. He told himself not to cry, but he failed. He started crying, and the sobs sounded harsh in the dark night.
*So tired that I couldn't even sleep
So many secrets I couldn't keep
Promised myself I wouldn't weep
One more promise I couldn't keep*
After hours of crying, he finally passed out onto the pillows, not waking up for 12 more hours. When he woke up, Hedwig was sitting in her cage, her feathers still bloody and several of them broken and bleeding, but her legs were no longer broken, and he was thankful for that. Hermione came in with some breakfast, and he ate ravenously. Hermione brought him back into the bathroom and bathed his wounds gently again, and he allowed her to do this.
When she brought him back into the room, he quickly fell asleep, and she left the room. He slept all the rest of the day, and when Hermione came in to shower and get ready for bed, he was still fast asleep. He slept until the next morning. Hermione brought more breakfast, and he shoveled it in again. He was already starting to look less emanciated, and she was grateful for that.
Several days later, the same thing was still happening, and Hermione resolved to ask him about the whole ordeal. The bruises and cuts were so bad, they still weren't healing. Her mother had gone shopping and bought him new clothes for when he got out of bed, but he was still bedridden. He refused to talk about it. All he said was that Hermione couldn't help him. He claimed there was nothing more she could do, and he hugged her weakly. He kept muttering that the whole thing was his fault, and Hermione shook her head, turning away to hide her tears.
*It seems no one can help me now
I'm in too deep there's no way out
This time I have really led myself astray
Runaway train never going back
Wrong way on a one way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I'm neither here nor there*
She kept this up for the next couple days, bringing him books on Quidditch and all sorts of stuff to do. He wasn't interested in anything anymore.
"I'm not good at anything. They told me that I'm nothing." He muttered faintly the same things over and over. He didn't care about anything anymore. Hermione brought him a joke book, trying to make him laugh, but he just turned away, refusing to give in to the stupidity of the jokes. Hermione watched helplessly as he became more and more withdrawn.
*Can you help me remember how to smile
Make it somehow all seem worthwhile
How on earth did I get so jaded
Life's mystery seems so faded*
He began muttering to himself more and more often, and Hermione began to worry. She cried many tears for him, and he had no idea. She had weeped openly in front of him, begging and pleading with him to talk to her. He showed no sign of even knowing who she was, or that she was there at all. Hermione threw herself on her bed and cried hysterically. She watched, helpless and in the way, as Harry slipped in and out of consciousness. It was worse than she had feared.
*I can go where no one else can go
I know what no one else knows
Here I am just drownin' in the rain
With a ticket for a runaway train*
Hermione spent more time with him, and less time elsewhere. She spent countless hours by his side, his cold, pale hand held tightly in hers as he fought to return to consciousness. Hermione grew thin and pale, her hair falling about her face in ragged clumps, the dark circles under her eyes becoming more pronounced with every day by his side. When he was conscious, he muttered to himself about an empty dry land full of misery. Hermione supposed it was his dreams that were troubling him. He stopped eating, and grew deathly thin again.
*Everything is cut and dry
Day and night, earth and sky
Somehow I just don't believe it*
Hermione pulled herself away from him one day, and looked in the mirror. Her reflection startled her. Her hair, unwashed, fell about her shoulders in ragged, greasy clumps, her face, pale and drawn, and her body, thin and pale. She went right back to his side, and her mom braved the morose room to bring her some food. She ate sparsely, keeping an eye on him the whole time. No wonder he had run away. He had looked horrible, and he was now screaming and jerking around in his sleep.
She began to cry. When Harry was asleep, he screamed and cried, but when he was awake, he muttered and whimpered, avoiding any questions she asked about the abuse. She thought he was going insane. She now realized it was a defense against facing the terrible pain.
*Bought a ticket for a runaway train
Like a madman laughin' at the rain
Little out of touch, little insane
Just easier than dealing with the pain*
She rocked back and forth, and fell asleep in the chair she had pulled up to the bed, still clasping his deathly cold hand. He was still asleep when she woke up hours later, and he looked like he wasn't breathing. Hermione quickly checked for a pulse. He was breathing, but the movement was shallow and erratic, and she began to get worried. Her mom brought her meals, brushed her hair, and did everything for her, but she never left Harry's side.
He awoke a little while after she did, and finally, after days, looked at her and spoke.
"Don't make me go back."
*Runaway train never going back
Wrong way on a one way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I'm neither here nor there*
She broke out in a fresh wave of tears, and held his hand to her face.
"I won't, Harry. Believe me, you're never going back." He nodded faintly and fell asleep. Hermione quickly realized that his breathing, which had become normal for a moment, was shallow and erratic again. Hermione called a doctor, who came right to the house and looked over Harry, listening to his breathing, clocking his pulse, normal stuff like that.
Hermione watched expectantly, and her face fell when the doctor looked at her. His face was grim as he asked what had happened to him. She told his story, and at the end, the doctor nodded.
"Sorry to tell you this, but he has more problems than the visible ones. He has had internal bleeding, which obviously started out slowly, but the lacerations on his organs have become too severe. He doesn't have long to live." Hermione nodded, and handed the doctor his money. After he left, she threw herself across Harry's chest and sobbed, face buried in her arm. She stopped crying and settled one hand on his chest, taking his cold hand in the other.
His breathing had become very sparse, and Hermione knew he didn't have long. She leaned over and whispered in his ear.
"We all love you, Harry. There are people on this God-forsaken planet who love you very much." Her voice broke as she said this, and just as she finished, Harry took in a long, raspy breath and went limp. Hermione cried hysterically and called for her mom. Her mom walked in, tears already forming in the corners of her eyes.
"You're never going back, Harry. Ever." Hermione's broken voice was strangled by a fresh wave of sobs as she remembered her promise to him. She hugged him as best she could without moving him, and used Hedwig, who was fully healed, to send letters to Sirius, Dumbledore and Ron.
They buried Harry underneath a weeping willow on the Hogwarts grounds several days later. Hermione's mother, Hermione, Ron and his family, Sirius and all the Hogwarts professors, even Snape were present, along with most of the school. Even Madam Pomfrey and Filch were there. Hermione stood next to the tombstone and began her speech.
"When I saw Harry, just 2 weeks ago, he seemed fine, save some bruises, cuts and broken bones, which I quickly mended. He stayed in bed, and slowly got stronger. Sadly, as the doctor told me, the bleeding in his major organs caused the holes to get bigger, also causing Harry to become cold and pale. I stayed with him..." Her voice began to break, but she continued. "I stayed with him, refusing to leave his side, and I promised him he would never go back. Right before he died, I told him that there were people on the God-forsaken planet that did love him, and that we would miss him." She stopped and looked around.
"Harry drew his final breath as I finished my sentence, and after he died, I recalled my promise that I would never let him go back. And I never would." Hermione managed to hold her tears until the end, and she rushed forward into her mom's arms. Everyone threw flowers onto the grave, and after several minutes of silence, left. All, that is, except Hermione.
She stooped and placed a single white rose on the grave, on top of all the other flowers. She let several tears fall, and, standing up, ran to join her mother, leaving Harry alone in his final resting place. He was finally at peace, and he never had to go back.
*Runaway train never comin' back
Runaway train tearin' up the track
Runaway train burnin' in my veins
Runaway but it always seems the same*
A/N: WAH! I feel like crap after this. *needs a hot shower and a Unisom* Sorry, for all you Harry fans out there, and that includes myself, but I just went with what my fingers typed. For those of you who DON'T know, the song is Runaway Train, by Soul Asylum, written about run aways...it seemed perfect.