hello there !
This chapter is a bit of just Harry's perspective. Although this is a Hermione and Draco story, i wanted to give a bit of everyone around him. How everything develops around him and what not, what people realize about him and what he realizes about others. I'm giving you an insight of other characters because in the end, it all ties to the tragedy of Draco Malfoy. Or not tragedy ? haha. Please bear with me, I'm still a bit new to writing Harry Potter fan fiction. THANK YOU to the people who have favorites, story alert & the amazingg one who sent a review. if you like it, PLEASE review. I wanted to make sure i'm satisfying you all just right. hehe.
DISCLAIMER; I do not own harry potter. but Draco wants to do a re-count ;)
CHAPTER ONE.
Hanging on a moment
"Hide yourself Harry."
"Headmaster, I haven't seen my friends in months," Harry frowned.
"It's important to notice your surroundings," Dumbledore said as he summoned Harry's invisibility cloak from his trunk, "There are many different things you can view while in hiding."
"You've been telling me to hide all summer. To view things differently. I viewed everything I possibly can. I've been under this my whole summer," Harry gripped his cloak and shook his head.
"Which is all the reason why hiding for a few more hours completely harmless."
Harry opened his mouth to protest, however the old man pulled up his blackened hand, questions swirling about in Harry's head. With the other hand Dumbledore brushed his long silver gray hand from his blue eyes and shook his head. "From this point on, I ask of you to question me with larger importance's—therefore I can give you answers that satisfy you. For now, all I can give you is; Because I said so."
OOOO
Harry James Potter was in hiding. He could hardly breathe another second underneath the thickness of his Invisibility cloak. Although the cloak was light—he still couldn't bear having it wrapped around himself. He had been under that cloak for far too long. It began to feel as if it were a second coat of skin, making him weaker with each moment he paced around the Weasley residence. September was beginning to silently get closer, ending the days of August. The summer sun, the freedom, and the happiness; he knew it was coming to an end. He refused to take his last week of school free vacation underneath the safety of his cloak. He refused to be taken town silently.
"Because I said so." Harry shook his head and allowed Dumbledore's voice to fade. Everything that happened prior to entering the Weasley home had faded. All he wanted was to catch a glimpse of his friends. Make sure they were okay. Make sure they still remembered him.
His footsteps made the mistake of making noise as he made his way up the zig zag spiral of stairs.
"Ronald?" Harry watched as Hermione slowly crept outside of her room. He caught a glimpse of a red head sleeping soundlessly on a bed that leaned against the closest end of the wall. The door closed and Ginny Weasley was no one in sight. She was walking as if she was on air, the tips of her toes lingering slightly as they tip-toed up the zig zag stairs that connected each seven floors of the house. He followed her and held his breath, careful to step exactly in her footsteps making sure not to make the floorboards creak. There was very little light surrounding them and he hoped for Hermione to cast a Lumos and give them both a sense of direction. However it was as if Hermione knew exactly where she was walking—she knew each floorboard well. He had no doubt she'd been sneaking to Ron's room for the past couple of weeks she stayed there.
He greatly envied her availability and freedom. She easily traveled to the Weasley's without much of a trouble. Harry, instead—had to sneak out of his home in Little Whinging. Harry, unlike Hermione, flew his way to the Weasley's. He bit his lip from cursing and followed Hermione into Ron's room. It felt wrong to listen in on their conversation, a conversation he wasn't invited too. He wondered if they would have invited him into the conversation if they had known he had arrived at the Burrow.
"Psst," Hermione hissed. There was no movement. "Ronald, wake up." And silence again. "Psst!" a whirling sound gave out and it smacked lightly against an object. Harry counted the seconds before his red-headed friend turned on the light. In two, he watched as the light erupted in the room.
"Blimey," Ronald Bilius Weasley gritted his teeth and rubbed his temple, "Have you lost your mind Hermione?"
"Sorry Ronald," she mumbled, "But you weren't going to wake any other way."
"A gentle rub would've done it just perfectly, thanks," Ron narrowed his eyes.
The two were in complete silence, their thoughts absorbing in the air. Harry resisted the urge to yell at them to speak. Yell for some noise. He merely gripped onto his cloak tighter. He scanned the room and let out an inaudible sigh. Posters of Ron's favorite Quidditch team were scattered about over his walls. The colors of the Chudley Cannons posters seemed to play off as if it were the natural paint of his room. The separation of each poster made it easy to figure out the true color of his walls; a pale beige.
Ron hadn't changed much from the last time Harry saw him. His hair was a bit longer, framing his head. His nose was still long, his lips were still a pink-ish color, freckles still rested across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose and his eyes were still a gentle blue. Hermione, on the other hand, had grown taller, although compared to his and Ronald's height, she was still rather petite. Her hips were curved, her brown hair seeming to be tamed and no longer resembled a bird's nest; her eyes seemed to be a lighter brown—specks of honey flickering at Ron. Harry had never been this close to Hermione, seeing as she made sure she kept a certain distance between the two. He took a couple of soft steps back as she moved closer to Ron. She took a comfortable seat on his bed.
"Well," Hermione's voice was rather prim, "Have you found out anything new?"
"About V-V-Vold," Ron was having trouble speaking the name.
"Voldermort."
"Merlin's beard Hermione," he raised up his hand, "Please."
His fear of the Dark Lords name caused Harry's stomach to twist. The three of them have faced death and danger many times in their years of friendship. However to be reminded that his best mate was scared of just saying the name shook him. Was Ron going to back out if Voldermort attacked Harry? Was Ron a cowardly git? Harry shook the thoughts on his doubt of his friend and listened on. He was relieved to hear the name slip out of Hermione's lips—at least she was not scared.
"No, I haven't," Ron shook his head, "No one speaks of you-know-who when we're around."
"It's quite sickening," Hermione spat, "They expect us to just stand back and silently make our way back into our rooms. Everyone expects us to just give up. We know more than they will ever know—if you put your mind to it, I mean, we know Harry better than anyone else. If there's anything we should be given, its information."
"You put far too much effort into finding research than I do 'Mione," Ron said with a small voice.
"Does that bother you?"
"Yes," he started before she could defend herself, "I don't want to be the useless git in the friendship anymore. I want to save people—stop things from happening. Maybe help take the pressure of Harry's shoulder while I'm at it. Yours too—maybe I can pick up a book or two."
Harry felt a wave of an unknown emotion. Happiness? Relief? Comfort?
"No one expects you to do that all at once Ronald," Hermione's tone was smooth.
"No one expects anything of me." Ron's voice was acidic. "They all expect Harry to just finish off that psychopathic excuse for the Dark Lord. Merlin—even Harry expects he'll be doing that on his own. I'm not worthless Hermione. At least, I reckon I'm not."
"You aren't," she said reassuringly, "You were always amazing and brave when the time came."
"Then why must Harry insist he can do this on his own all the time? He must know we are a waste of time. Worthless, we are."
Harry wanted to protest. Hermione beat him too it. "Worthless? Must you doubt our skills? My skills? I haven't gone through half of the library and all of the restricted section for nothing. I haven't written all the plans and organized all our thoughts on a piece of parchment for fun. Have you forgotten how easily I can hex you Ronald? Do not push my limits here. Do not doubt what I'm capable of."
"I didn't mean to," Harry was taken aback by the sincerity in Ron's voice. He expected a fight. He expected them to scream and shove words down the throats of one other. Instead Ron retreated and leaned against the wooden headboard of his bed. "It's just…you've got your intelligence and skills, Harry's got this whole 'The Chosen One,' thing going on—plus he's stared death in the face for far more times than a sixteen year old should and what have I got?"
Hermione was silent. Harry's eyes narrowed willing for her to say something. Instead he watched as she pulled her arm towards Ron's hand. "You've faced death too, Ron."
"A mere coincidence." He said bitterly, "I should've died along the way anyways. Save Harry the burden of worrying over another death than his own."
"Don't say things like that," Hermione warned.
"The thing is, I'd be willing to die for that stubborn git I call my friend," his voice was cracking and his becoming uneasy. Ron's blue eyes flashed to the wall Harry leaned himself against, the color darkening and fogging at the very sting of tears, "But what good would that do? I was never really anyone's favorite anyways. Should've just killed myself before anyone had a chance to be disappointed."
Harry shook his head. Hermione took Ron's body and pressed it against hers. Her arms wrapped around him whether or not he favored being this close to her. This is what they did when Harry was not around. Ron fell apart in front of Hermione, doubting himself—and Hermione had built him back up. It was what best friends did and he was feeling rather useless himself for the fact that he was barely ever around to see his friends break. He was far too busy hiding from Voldermort or plotting ways to expose him to even put his friend's feelings into consideration. He did consider their deaths—he would never allow them to die on his watch. He always felt rather selfish for bringing them along to his foolish adventures. However to hear they were willing to die for Harry was a different story. He could reveal himself, he thought, but he could only imagine Ron straighten his back and act as if nothing was wrong. He remained underneath his cloak and listened to Hermione murmur gentle comforting words. If it were the three of them, Harry knew, he would just be watching as he was now. He was never good with words.
After a few more words and rubs on the back, Ron's head removed from Hermione's neck. "Ronald, listen to me—you are not worthless. You are not a waste of oxygen. You're my best friend and I will not allow you to say these things about yourself. Do you see what's happening? Voldermort wants you to feel that way. He wants all of us to feel that way. I bet he wants us to give up. Let Harry stand alone. You can't let yourself give up. Every little thing we do to help Harry is significant."
"Says you," Ron replied.
"Don't even try with me Ronald Weasley."
"I just want this whole war rubbish to end," he sighed, "A normal life is greatly needed."
"Normal doesn't involve when Voldermort still lives."
"Ugh," Ron shuddered a bit at the name, "Why must it be our generation to go through this?"
Hermione spoke Harry's thoughts, "It's harder on Harry more than anyone else."
After a long pause Ron nodded, "Your right."
"About what?"
"Everything."
"Everything I've just said?" She raised an eyebrow.
"About everything we've been talking about the past few weeks." He shook his head with disbelief, "I'm an oaf to think I was irrelevant in this war."
"Must you always insult yourself?"
"Might as well before someone else does," he said with his hand scratching the back of his neck, "But your right Hermione. We can't let Harry do this alone."
"Merlin," she breathed, "I hope he isn't sitting up in his bed thinking he should go through all this alone again."
"Maybe we should kidnap him and beat him senseless before he goes through that awful phase again," Ron caused Hermione to laugh, "We're his best mates—he can't honestly think we're going to push him in front of you-know-who by himself and make a run for it."
The two began to laugh at the thought. A forceful tug came from the corners of his mouth, pulling and forming into an ear to ear smile. His eyes felt as if they were being threatened by tears. He wanted to hug them.
"Mum!" A female voice was heard levels below them, "When did Harry get here?"
Harry felt a rush of panic as Hermione and Ron slipped out of his room quickly. He felt his cloak swish as Hermione's hand grazed against his leg. She stopped and stared at the wall, seeing right passed him.
"Hermione," Ron pulled her hand, "Come on."
She shrugged and followed. The two leaned against the banister, leaning forward to look straight down to the ground floor. Ginny smiled at the two, her fierce red hair cascading down her shoulders and stopping mid-back. Her eyes were a brilliant brown, such life and energy. Harry began to make his way down slowly, careful not to step to loud or the floorboards might creak. His eyes were kept on her as he stepped down, the closer he got the easier it was to view the youngest Weasley. Her smile was exciting to him. Her body was a rather small, her nose resembling a bunny's and her lips were a natural color of pink.
"Harry?" Harry twisted around, staring as Molly Weasley made her way down the stairs. He hurriedly moved down before she collided against him. He ran himself to the kitchen and found himself face to face with Hedwig; the Owl stared straight at him and began to chew the bars of it's cage. He stared as his trunk and broom lay on the kitchen floor. "Harry who?"
"As in, Harry Potter of course." There was a certain pride in Ginny's voice as she spoke to her mother. Harry pulled off his cloak and gently folded it on top of the his trunk. "His trunk is right there. In the kitchen."
"I would very well know if Harry potter was wandering about in my own house." Molly said making her way towards the kitchen.
"Hello," Harry said a bit timidly, his hand waving.
"Oh dear!"
"Is that Harry I just heard?" Hermione came into the kitchen, Ron and Ginny following. The smiles on their faces seemed to grasp his heart. He didn't dare breath or blink—scared it was all just a dream. Without hesitation she gasped, almost identical to Molly's and wrapped her arms around his neck. She spoke quite quickly, her words blending in with the others as she pulled back. He could notice her lips moving but he didn't hear much. It was if he didn't understand. He figured it was due to her quick speaking. Ron pulled him into an embrace, his lips moving but words coming out inaudible. His smile was numbing, nonetheless. All he could hear is his pounding heartbeat. Continuously.
Ginny was the last to pull Harry's body close. Her voice was the first to break through his pounding heart. "Welcome back Harry."
He breathed. It was real.