((Oops! I had a typo! I'll fix it right now…))
orokid: Chapter Two is here! I have broken free from my obsession with Gaia Online (I think)… ninja… and have been typing a lot more- see! Anyway… As I was saying… Wait! What WAS I saying? Cries. I don't remember…
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Even my soul belongs to my best friends and I just can't get it back. Cries. It just isn't fair… I don't own any of the characters nor the story of Harry Potter, nor do I have any title-ship to the song "Breaking the Habit" by Linkin Park.
I Ain't Goin' Down
Chapter Two
Harry's green suitcase hit the stone floor, his emerald orbs giving painfully at his surrounding scenery. Memories of his long dead (well, not long, but the man was still dead) godfather, the infamous Sirius Black, returned to haunt him once again. His eyes began to tear up at the visions of his lost father figure, and he was so close to just allowing them to fall and quit being the strong man he pretended to be.
A hand lightly touched his trembling shoulder, giving him a strange but thankful feeling of calm as he stood where he was. He didn't have to turn to see who stood behind him, sending him subtitle psychic waves of relaxation and gentle happiness. She had always been able to calm him down eventually from whatever fit he had worked himself into, never once giving up her hope for him. It seemed as if it were a secret power only she possessed and used upon him.
"It's only for a little while, right?" she asked him softly, hoping within herself that it would give him the courage to move beyond the doorway. He gave a silent, albeit hesitant, nod, gulping down the throb inside his heart so he wouldn't hurt as much. It was his hope, at least.
The young man adjusted his glasses before he had picked up his suitcase again, heading up the stairs without really saying much of anything. He stopped halfway, looking back at her, a half-hearted grin finding its way upon his face as he watched her nervously await orders, her standing silently on the first floor. "Are you coming?" he asked her, softly laughing as she snapped out of her solemn trance and made her way up the stairs to greet him.
"Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed to have been caught spacing out like she had. She was Hermione Granger, and she just wasn't the type of person to do such a thing.
His partial smile grew a small bit, casting his depression away for but a moment. Unaware about what he was doing, he took her small hand into his large one, squeezing it lightly. "It's alright," he whispered to her, his small grin becoming truer every second his eyes laid upon her. "Don't worry too much about it. If we look back to our classes, I've spaced out a few million times myself."
"And yet you still managed an E for both Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms," she shot back at him, laughing softly, unable to help herself from it. "I have no idea how you do it, Mister Potter."
The Boy-Who-Lived gave a lopsided smile before pulling her up the stairs, their hands still very much entwined together. "Well, as it so happens, I had a first rate tutor to help me out." Before she could say anything, he had stopped, causing her to also (almost into him, might I add). He turned to look at her, and her chocolaty eyes seemed to be focused upon the doorway they stood beside. "This is your room," he told her as he gently slide the door open, carefully leading her inside as if she were a princess more than his female best mate.
What she had seen surprised her.
The room was quite large- a king-sized bed leaning against the corner of the nearest adjoining walls while downed pillows and blankets, all decorated with different blue hues, laid neatly on her perfectly made bed. The walls had been enchanted to envision a lush green forest, her ceiling the sky above them. At noon, it was as if she was lost solitarily in the woods.
At the foot of her bed laid an empty wooden trunk, ready to be filled with whatever she decided to place there. Beside the inviting bed was a small library, it seemed, with four rows of books that lined neatly from one wall to another. Her fingers idly moved over the bindings while her eyes moved across the names of each one. To tell the truth, she hadn't seen some of these books during her last visit to Grimmald Place.
"There are a few 'welcome home' gifts that I asked Kreacher to put in there, just for you. I'd thought that you would enjoy some new ones," he told her, his breath tickling her neck as he whispered into her ear from behind. She had no idea how he had snuck up behind her, nor did she really care. It felt too good to care, right then.
But she did. She HAD to care.
"Thank you, Harry," the bushy haired teenager whispered back to him, leaning against his body that she just knew was there. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness." She felt her best friend's arms encircle her waist, softly hugging her as they stood- and, for some odd and unexplainable reason, Hermione found herself breathless and enjoying his touch much more than she usually did.
"You're welcome, Hermione."
For a long while, they just stood like that, hugging one another. The moment they stood in felt perfect, as if nothing could trouble them while there, in each other's arms.
That was, until Harry pulled away from her, returning to the respectable distance that he held between everyone he knew. "I'll leave you to unpack everything. My room is next door to the right, and your shower is through that door." The dark haired teen pointed to an entryway across from her bed. "It connects to my room, so, if you need me, you can just cross through there and grab me for whatever need there is." He sauntered over to the door he had just pointed out and walked through, leaving her alone in the giant room.
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Harry pushed the play button on his stereo, moving about his room as the music began to load.
It felt strange to him to be back in his room, back at Grimmald Place after Sirius's demise. Truthfully, it hadn't been as large as the room Hermione was sleeping him, but he thought that it was better that way. He wasn't the one having the child, and he didn't need all that much room to just... exist.
Finally, the music began, a guitar the heartbeat to the music while the drum pounded softly to the beat.
Memories consume
Like opening the wound
I'm picking me apart again
Harry felt visions erupt from his mind, showing him his godfather while he had been still alive and kicking. It was typical, really, him being here and remembering all the good times, all the good memories, he had before the man's untimely death.
And what killed him each time was the knowledge that it was no one's fault but his own.
You all assume
I'm safe here in my room
Unless I try to start again
The Boy-Who-Lived looked to his wrists, pulling down his sleeves to gawk at the scars that had formed from his self-mutilation. Everyone had thought that he was okay, that he had moved on from the death like a man would. The truth was, he had fallen, just like the rest of the human race. He needed to be alone after such an ordeal- but, then again, he didn't. He sliced his wrists open more times than he could count, and it had been Hermione who had walked in on him and found out about it.
It was her who he owed his life to.
I don't want to be the one
The battles away choose
Cause inside I realize
That I'm the one confused
Why did it always seem that every single trouble in the world resting upon only his shoulders? Why was it him that needed to save the world from the 'bad guys' that taint the innocence most are still sure to have?
Nothing made sense to him. The prophecy foretold that it would be him to kill this century's most evil villain, but why did it have to weigh on HIS shoulders? Why not some other bloke? Like Neville, maybe?
I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I shave to scream
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright
This song was right about all of those things. He had nothing worth fighting for-
Expect Hermione.
He had no idea why he had to be so angry and scream at anyone and everyone who crossed the invisible line, but he was and did.
But he also always found a way to calm down when she was around him. He felt stupid for hurting everyone the way he did, especially treating her that way and would only tend to apologize to her if he felt any kind of regret or guilt at her.
Harry could only wonder how she was the remedy to all of his problems- whether it be mental or physical, she was always there to heal him. He was never really going to be okay, but it was her that could heal about almost all of his wounds, just by being around his torn and beaten existance.
So I'm breaking the habit
Tonight
Silently, the young woman who had only been on his mind mere second before entered his room through the restroom. He acknowledged her presence by turning towards her, offering her a small smile and a slightly gleeful gaze corrupting his pits of despair. Neither spoke. Instead, they embraced one another, Hermione wishing deep within that she could take all the pain he felt away from him. She was unable to, there being no magic or drug in the world that could make him forget of the horrible duty that rested solely on his shoulders.
If only she knew what the prophecy had said! Then, she might've been able to help him. There was a way- there always was- but she had no idea what it was that could save her best friend's life.
Clutching my cure
I tightly lock the door
I try to catch my breath again
I hurt much more
Than any time before
I have no options left again
His love, his cure, was right there, nestled in his arms and chest, looking as docile as a kitten would beside a fireplace. If only he could do something to make her understand that he wanted her right there forever and a day! He wanted nothing more than to hold her tight for the rest of his life.
It hurt to know that she was going to bare Ron's child and not his. His heart would break every time he would look at the small bulge.
But it would only mend at the sight of her bright grin, at her sparkling eyes, and at how motherly she seemed to become.
He wished that he could do something, anything, to make her see that she was loved, more than a friend. She had been shown otherwise by both Ron and her parents. Harry only wanted to show her differently.
I don't want to be the one
The battles always choose
Cause inside I realize
That I'm the one confused
I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean
I don't know how I got this way
I know it's not alright
So I'm breaking the habit tonight
"'Mione?" he questioned aloud as he held her close to him.
I'll paint it on the walls
"Yeah, Harry?" She looked up at him, hope filling her eyes. Maybe he would finally open up to her after all this time with his godfather's death.
Cause I'm the one at fault
He opened his mouth, trying to force the words out from his lungs and straight to the intoxicating woman in his arms. All he wanted to do was tell her the emotions that raged angrily inside of him every time his eyes laid upon her, that his heart would speed up it's usually calm tempo every time he thought that he was breathing the same air as her.
I'll never fight again
The words never made it out from his lips. Instead, afraid that she would assume something wrong, he spoke the first words that had entered his mind. "Thank you."
And this is how it ends
She hugged tighter to him, as if scared that he'd disappear if she'd let go. "You're welcome."
I don't know what worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
But now I have some clarity
To show you what I mean
The emerald eyed teenager tightened his own embrace around her. Once again, he forced the words to form, hoping that this time they'd retreat from their hiding place inside of himself.
He'd felt this way for what seemed like eons. Now was as good as time as any to tell her the truth.
I don't know how I got this way
I know it's not alright
So I'm breaking the habit
Breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit tonight
Once again, the wrong words seemed to be the only things that could exit his mouth. "I hope it's just like you. It'd be like a blessing to the world."
She unconsciously nestled into his chest as she hugged him tightly, smelling in his seemingly intoxicating scent of grass, broom polish, and… something else that she really couldn't place as anything but the smell of Harry. Why did she think he smelled like that? She didn't know but, right now, she didn't really care. "Thank you, Harry. I'm glad to have you as a friend."
He sighed, thinking the words he couldn't say. "I love you…"
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AN: Here ya go! Chapter two all ready to go. I finished it early, just for you readers out there that told me to finish or my head would be on a platter, next to Marie Antoinette. Lol. Anyway… Any ideas what I can write next? I'm running out of ideas, although I do have this one that I'll most likely use for Chapter Three.