ENDLESS NIGHT

Come Sunday night, Harry was desperately fighting the desire to claim exhaustion and head up to bed, knowing his 'friends' would be suspicious at the thought of him going to be at only eight at night.

Painfully aware of the stolen books hidden beneath his mattress, Harry knew his only choice was to remain downstairs until the other boys went to bed so he could read it in peace.

"Go get the book, Harry," Hermione's voice said suddenly, cutting through his thoughts and making his head snap around to stare at her in horror. "Harry?" she asked hesitantly, her face falling rapidly, "Please tell me you didn't forget the offensive charms textbook in the library".

Oh thank Merlin…

"No, no. It's in my trunk," he assured her, quickly climbing to his feet and heading towards his dorm, taking two steps at a time as he rushed upstairs. This was a good idea actually, he needed something to take his mind off the book in his trunk. And what better way than to plan out the next couple of DA meetings? The DA was always something he found he enjoyed, the entire process of teaching others distracted him from his own problems, as selfish as it sounded. Besides, it was probably for the best that they go over their lesson plan for that night.

Collecting the book for the DA, Harry also grabbed the lists from his bag, both the one of charms and transfigurations he'd be teaching the others and the one of more combat-orientated spells he'd decided on. He was, of course, going to leave them all up to Hermione to give the final decision. His friend tending to know what the others were capable of better than him, what with his habit of being able to pull off 'impossible' spells like the Patronus. Freezing as an idea hit him, Harry shoved everything back into his bag including Dargon the Rather Quick's guide, grabbing his invisibility cloak and his father's Map.

Invisibly sneaking downstairs, he leaned towards Hermione's ear and whispered "Room of Requirement. Now," making his friend jump slightly, the girl showing remarkable control as she only flicked her hair back in a barely noticeable nod.

"Ron. Let's go on patrol," Hermione blurted, beginning to pack up her things.

"What? We're not on patrol till tomorrow!" Ron argued with a frown, hunching over his chess board defensively.

"We're going to the Room," Hermione whispered at him quietly, "To practice some of the spells?"

"Oh… er… I'm sick?" Ron lied bluntly, looking around uncomfortably, sending more than one glance towards the staircase that Harry was supposed to be up. "I'll see you guys there for the DA meeting".

Not offended by his friend lying to get out of doing work – Harry was far too used to that to take it personally – he just rolled his eyes and tapped Hermione on the elbow, hoping she got the hint and just dropped it. It wasn't like Ron did much to help the DA anyway, the red-haired member of the Trio was mainly just used as their stunt-man, the boy soaking up the attention he got from girls like Lavender who thought he was 'so brave'. To be fair though… it wasn't like Harry did much to help the DA either, he was the figurehead while Hermione ran everything herself.

"You know, Ronald," Hermione hissed as she shoved herself out of her armchair, "If you didn't want to come, you could have just said so".

Sighing quietly as he followed Hermione out of the common room, he kept one eye on the Marauder's Map, guiding her around a patrolling Umbridge as they crossed the castle. "I don't know how you put up with him," Hermione exclaimed the moment the Room of Requirement's door slammed shut behind them and melted away into the wall. "He can be such a child sometimes! How hard can it be for him to act his age?"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted, ignoring the ill feeling in his stomach as he defended the red-head, knowing that it wasn't Ron that she was angry at. "He's fifteen. He is acting his age".

"You don't act like that," Hermione countered instantly.

"I've almost died so many times I've lost count," Harry corrected, "And you're… well, you. Ron doesn't have that motivation".

Hermione stared at him for a moment before scoffing. "I hate people our age," she declared bluntly, turning her back on him and striding over to where the Room of Requirement had set up the target dummies for them.

"I'm pretty sure I just hate people," Harry muttered under his breath as he made to follow. It wasn't like he had any luck with adults, after all, at least the people his age didn't actively try to kill him.

"Book," Hermione ordered, her tone of voice hinting to Harry that perhaps he should just keep his mouth shut and obey her. As he hurried to hand it over, he watched as she flicked through it, before settling on a page and reading it over just once. Stepping back as his friend moved over to stand before a dummy, Hermione cleared her throat once before raising her wand.

"Incussus".

"Ow," Harry deadpanned as he blinked at the smoking crater in the dummy's chest, the very metal it was made of bent inwards at the sheer force Hermione had conjured up. "Remind me not to piss you off," he mumbled to himself as his friend didn't hesitate to hurl a second 'Incussus' at the dummy.

"Unless you've turned into an Umbridge supporter, I think you're safe," Hermione spat, casting the spell a final time before setting her wand down on the table and taking a couple of deep breaths.

"You'd use that spell on Umbridge?"

"She'd deserve it," Hermione said darkly, glaring in the direction of the still smoking dummy. "Torturing students. Putting Madam Pince on suspension. The way she's egging you on just so she can keep torturing you!" Flinching back as Hermione snatched her wand up and cursed the dummy again, he cautiously moved forward to take the wand from her hand, watching her breathing deeply as he set it down behind him. "Sorry," she apologised weakly, stepping forward to drop her forehead onto his shoulder, the two of them standing there in the almost-hug for longer than either cared to count. "She just makes me so mad," Hermione explained faintly, "She works for the Ministry. And the Ministry are supposed to be the good guys here! I mean I know they're not the nicest, and that they're completely and utterly idiotic, but they're still supposed to be on our side".

"Hermione".

"And what does that make us?" she continued, stepping away from Harry and beginning to pace. "We know the truth. But so what? We're breaking the law here Harry!" she shouted, hands coming up to tug on her hair. "And I don't regret doing it. It has to be done, because as Saint Augustine of Hippo said, 'An unjust law is no law at all'. But does that make us the bad guys? I don't know if I can be one of the bad guys, Harry," she stressed.

"Hermione! You're not a bad guy," he assured her slowly, stepping forward again to place his hands on her shoulders. "Were the Rebel Alliance bad guys for going against the Galactic Empire?" he asked pointedly, hoping that the brief parts of the Star Wars films he'd seen hadn't led him astray, "The Ministry isn't just idiotic, it's corrupt. Besides, it's not like we're rebelling against the Ministry, we're just rebelling against Umbridge".

"I guess that's true," Hermione mused thoughtfully, chewing her lip as she refused to meet his eyes, "Sometimes doing what's right isn't easy".

"Exactly. And for as long as Umbridge runs this school – and don't look at me like that, we both know she does – then, I," he began, "Harry James Potter do solemnly swear that I aim to misbehave".

Almost instantly Hermione let out a snort, "I can totally imagine you dressed as Malcolm Reynolds," she giggled to herself. "He's the Captain of a spaceship," she explained when Harry blinked at her in confusion, "He's kind of a criminal, but he always does the right thing. Like Robin Hood, but in space. In the film he kind of rebels against the entire Alliance because they killed a bunch of people and tried to hide it, but he's not trying to overthrow them or anything, he's just trying to right what was wronged. He's also really really hot," Hermione confessed with a flush.

"Ew," Harry deadpanned, making Hermione punch his shoulder gently, stepping away as she wiped at her eyes.

"Your turn," Hermione declared, lifting her chin and smiling at him faintly. "You helped me with my problems, so I'm going to help you with yours".

Smiling fondly at his friend, Harry instead reached out to pull the book closer to him, scanning over the description for the spell Hermione had just cast. "I don't have problems," he said simply as she opened her mouth, "Well, I don't have problems that aren't being dealt with," he corrected as Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

"You're not sleeping," his bushy-haired friend argued, "I know that sounds hypocritical coming from me, but you were taking dreamless sleep and it wasn't working".

"Incussus," Harry hissed, jabbing his wand at the second dummy, a spark cracking at the tip of his wand before the dummy's face caved in under the force of the spell. "I'm sleeping fine," he lied dismissively, taking aim and trying the spell again, feeling as if it wasn't working properly. "I'm just… dreaming of the door still," he admitted, not mentioning the memories that were constantly waking him up in the middle of the night.

"Right. Because that explains why you're avoiding Ron and I," Hermione countered simply, "Try flicking the tip of your wand a bit more when you finish the jab," she added. "Huh… that's better," she approved as this time his spell caused more of a flash than a spark. "And don't lie to me, you spent 'all afternoon' in the library yesterday? You didn't even show up to dinner!"

"How did you find out about that?" Harry grumbled guiltily, sending the 'Concussion Hex' at the dummy again, "You were asleep".

"Professor McGonagall mentioned it at breakfast, which you skipped as well," Hermione explained, "So? Where were you?"

"Incussus".

"Harry".

"Incussus".

"Harry".

"Incussus".

Hermione sighed as the dummy shattered under his spell, making him pause for a moment to glance at her from the corner of his eye, before a flick of his wand had another dummy rolling forward to become his new target.

What was he supposed to do? He couldn't just tell Hermione that he'd been trying to sort out his memories lately, that he'd snuck off to the Room of Requirement that morning to continue trying to practice his teleportation. (He could do it if he wasn't thinking about it, but it was giving him trouble when he tried to force it). Hell, he was pretty sure the answer of 'I was trying to see how many chairs I could lift with my mind' wouldn't be the one she was looking for, and would probably only annoy her if he tried it, no matter how true it was.

He didn't even know if he could trust her, he remembered telling her about the voice the first time he heard it (he was certain that it was the same voice he'd heard in the library) and she'd gone running to Dumbledore. And he wanted to trust her, he really really wanted to trust her. But could he? If he told her and she went running straight back to Dumbledore, then what would he do? Aside from doing everything with one eye watching his back to keep himself safe – he felt so alive when using his powers, he couldn't let himself be put back to sleep again…

He couldn't…

"If you don't want to tell me that's fine," Hermione said quietly, making him stop casting so her voice could echo through the room, "But you could at least say that you don't want to ta-" "Can I trust you?" "-about- What?"

"Can I trust you?" Harry repeated slowly, refusing to look away from the Death Eater mask on the target dummy's face.

"Of course you can," Hermione began, "You know you can".

"Can I trust you," Harry asked again as a flashback to second year shot through his mind

"Of course you can! You know I wouldn't do anything to hurt you!"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably as she aimed her wand at him, "I can't let you do that Harry," she apologised, "That's dark magic, I- I have to report you".

"It's not dark," he insisted slowly, "I swear Hermione".

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, shaking her head nervously, "But you hurt Ron, and… and I just have to make sure. You were never this mean before".

"I'm not being mean," Harry argued with a frown, stepping back quickly when Hermione's wand tip glowed, "How is it mean that I want more than a simple apology from him? He turned his back on me, he's lied and spread rumours as if we were never friends. I'm not dark for wanting proof he's sorry".

"No," Hermione agreed weakly, "But that doesn't give you the right to strangle him with your mind!" she exclaimed desperately.

"He deserved it," Harry said simply, "And it's not like I hurt him permanently or anything".

"No. Harry. Just… just no".

Sighing, Harry finally turned to face Hermione, tilting his head slowly as he made sure to hold his wand in a non-threatening way. "You already have," he admitted before he could stop himself, confusion flashing across her face, "I need you to trust me Hermione. And if you can't trust me more than Dumbledore..."

"You think I'd tell Dumbledore?" she blurted, blinking at him with wide eyes, "And you think I don't trust you? You're… you're my best friend," she explained stiffly, looking more hurt than Harry'd ever seen her before.

"My parents were killed by their best friend".

Almost instantly Harry knew he'd made a mistake, Hermione's face closing off entirely at the horrible comparison, the bushy-haired Witch straightening her back and shoulders as she spun on her heel to turn her back on him. "If that's the case, Harry, then I think I'll be going now," she said slowly, the tears in her voice making Harry flinch, "I wouldn't want to bring back bad memories".

"Hermione wait!"

The slamming of the door answered him, Harry alone in the room with his hand outstretched as if to stop the echo of his friend from leaving him to. "I didn't mean it," he exhaled slowly, his hand curling into a fist as he stared dumbly at the door, unable to deny the burning guilt settling in his stomach, "Not like that".

Great…

Just great…

Wasn't his life just perfect? So abso-fucking-lutely perfect!

First Voldemort returns. Then the Ministry and Umbridge practically declare war against him, going as far as to torture him. Half the school hates him, his own dorm-mates were afraid of him. Then he finds out most of his life is a lie put in place by Dumbledore. And as the cherry on top, he doesn't even have Hermione anymore!

'Alone on a deserted island' was an understatement for how alone he felt in that very instant, a hollow chuckle escaping his lips as he realised that at least it had been himself that had chased off Hermione, she'd not turned on him on her own accord. It had been him that had turned on her instead. It was almost poetic… he wasn't sure how but it definitely felt like it.

And now he had no-one.

Turning sharply as pure rage washed through him – directed entirely at himself – Harry lashed out, forgoing his wand entirely as he unleashed a blast of sheer black at the dummy before him, vaporising the metal being as easily as if it were made of butter.

Hermione was right, he realised as he watched the top half of the dummy slowly slide off the rest of the torso to hit the ground, he was meaner with all these powers of his. Raising his hand and watching as a familiar black smoke slowly 'leaked' out from beneath his skin, Harry let out a dry snort, turning his hand this way and that to watch how the smoke reacted.

If only he could turn back time and stop Snape from finding the repressed memories. He could prevent himself from ever unlocking his 'gift', he'd be happy with Ron and Hermione, never the wiser.

Harry snorted again.

He was such a terrible liar.

ENDLESS NIGHT