This is a makeshift chapter of sorts. It is betaed, (thanks to the woderful Empathic Siren and Alter) but this isn't my origional final revision. I still haven't been able to get to my good copy on TSS, and that is still looking shaky as to when it will be back up, so I am posting this for the time being.

Chapter 4

I didn't make much progress getting to know Harry over the next couple weeks. He had his defenses built high, and I wasn't exactly sure how to get by them. I would ask him a question about this or that only to get the shortest answer possible and a blank stare. Often, I would get frustrated, and forget about trying to get to know him for a day or two. The only progress I could see was that he no longer hid his drawings from me. I would find the sketchbook laying open on the table to whatever he wanted me to see. Most times, it was a sketch of me or of other students. I think that it was his way of telling me what he thought about the people around him. After studying them, I would scratch out a note for him and leave it on the table. I would write things like "I don't really look like that when I'm thinking, do I?" or "Be honest. Granger isn't that pretty, whether she's your friend or not." He never did write back. But, there would always be another picture waiting for me when I returned.

The hockey championship game was held the last week of February, and Blaise roped me into going in support of Slytherin. Once again it was down to Slytherin and Gryffindor. I was still stinging over not making the team, and I hadn't attended a single game. I did know that Harry was largely considered to be the best player in the school. Sitting in the stands between Blaise and Pansy, I realized why. He was almost unstoppable on the ice. He was more graceful on ice than most people were on land. Weaving between players, he handled the puck as if it was second nature to him. He wasn't a show off either. He passed as much as he shot.

The score was tied at three-one with Gryffindor in the lead when Harry shot down the rink. Everyone was certain that this would be another point for Gryffindor, but Harry was violently slammed into the wall by the Slytherin team captain. Marcus Flint took the puck, ran it down to the other goal and fired it in. For the rest of the game, Harry took quite a beating. Flint would do his best to nail Harry without being penalized. Finally in the fourth period, he was sent to the penalty box. Gryffindor was down by two points. Angelina Johnson managed to close the gap by one, and Oliver Wood kept it at that. In a frantic effort as the clock wound down, Fred Weasley managed to pull off a miracle shot, and send the game into sudden death overtime. The stands were humming beneath me from all of the cheering.

Harry took the puck first, whizzed down the ice, and passed it to Angelina. Her shot was blocked by Flint, who hooked the puck and furiously skated down the middle while ignoring open teammates. Luckily for Gryffindor, Harry was nimble enough to steal the puck away. Harry shot. It was Gryffindor's last chance at winning. The crowd stilled as the puck flew through the air. The Slytherin goalie reached out, but the puck sailed past him by mere inches. Gryffindor had won!

What happened next wouldn't leave me for quite some time. Harry had been standing there smiling at the scoreboard, when out of nowhere Flint charged at him. The whole crowd watched in horror as Flint lunged at Harry causing his head to crash into the ice. I could see blood on the ice, and I stood up and screamed his name. My voice must have been drowned out by all of the others, because no one said anything to me about it later. However, Blaise told me later that he had actually heard Harry's skull hit the ice. I shuddered to think of what that would sound like. It had been terrible enough to watch.

I tried to push my way closer to him to see if he was all right, but a number of adults were already surrounding him. It didn't take long before he was loaded on a backboard with a neck brace on. My heart pounded wildly as I watched paramedics take him off the ice. There was still a bloodstain and pieces of shattered helmet on the ice. I stayed there for a minute, and then calmly walked to the bathroom and threw up.

For the next day, rumors flew around Hogwarts about Harry's condition. Some people claimed that he had severe brain damage and might not live, while others claimed that he was suing the school and never coming back. One thing was certain, though, Marcus Flint was expelled.

The uncertainty of Harry's condition was killing me. I hated not knowing what had happened to him. In the end, I went to extreme measures to find out. I caught Granger in the hall right after lunch. She was blessedly Ron-free at the moment. She looked at me like she wanted to slap me, but at least waited to hear me out. "Is he going to be all right?" I asked.

She nodded, and raised her hands. A pretty bad concussion and some stitches. They want to keep him one more night to be safe.

I was instantly filled with two emotions: one, relief that he would be okay, and two, shock that she had signed to me. Thank you. I didn't know you signed?

That's because we're not exactly friends.

I couldn't deny that one, so I simply nodded.

I know you're worried about him, or I wouldn't have told you anything, she signed with narrowed eyes.

I'm glad you did.

She stared at me for a moment, and it was almost like she was deciding whether to give me a lecture. I don't know what he sees in you, but there must be something. Please don't disappoint him.

I raised my hands to say something, but she walked away.

I went to the Room of Requirement that night, and sat alone on the couch. The news that Harry would be all right had taken a load off of my chest, but I still felt restless. Out of boredom, I picked up the old copy of The Great Gatsby, and began to read. Hours passed by as I turned page after page, drinking in each word. I was to the last chapter when I found something tucked between the pages.

I unfolded it and stared at faded ink.

I love you. Does that even matter when you have them by your side? I can't stand this for much longer. I can't be your little secret. I sit alone at night and wonder if he is touching you the way I do. He doesn't have any right to. Tell him. Tell all of them. I don't care if they know, or what they'll say when they do. Don't do this anymore.

Yours Always,

SS

I refolded it, and slipped it back into the pages. Feeling like I had disturbed some sacred relic, I turned to the markings on the wall. Whoever SS was, he had obviously loved RL very much. Desperation had leapt from the letter. I wondered if they ever did get to be together? Judging from the slash through the initials, I guessed not.

On a whim, I looked at the inside cover of the book. There was an inscription.

To Moony,

Happy Birthday!

From Padfoot

I put the book back on the table. It had given me quite enough to think about for the evening. I would finish it some other time.

Blaise was still awake when I got back to our dorm. Where were you? he asked while looking at the clock.

Nowhere special.

You spend a lot of time "nowhere special." Christ, would it be that hard to tell me?

He looked hurt, but I wouldn't break my promise. Really, it's not that great. I just needed to be alone.

We're going to sneak out with some of the juniors to Hogsmeade tomorrow night. Do you want to come?

I shook my head.

Fine, go nowhere special for all I care. He turned off the light and promptly ended all conversation. This was a very rude gesture to a deaf person and Blaise knew it. Sighing, I settled into bed and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning was Saturday and only the freshmen, eighth, and seventh graders were left. School rules allowed the sophomores and upperclassmen to visit Hogsmeade. It wasn't much, according to Blaise who had been sneaking out since the seventh grade, but it was still a big deal to be allowed out on weekends. The school always felt so deserted without all the other students, but it made sneaking to the Room of Requirement easier.

I was shocked to find the door opened, and Harry sitting with his knees up ,drawing. He looked up at me and smiled. There was a bandage on his forehead and his face was bruised on the left side. "You're back," I said trying not to seem too happy.

He nodded. "I'm fine. The helmet took most of the hit. At least we won."

"You idiot! He nearly took your head off!"

"I…I…" he turned his head away like he was embarrassed that I had cared.

"Don't turn away when you talk," I scolded him.

His eyes were thoughtful for a second. "I keep forgetting that you're deaf."

"How can you forget?" I grumbled. "I know how weird my voice sounds." As if my father could ever let me forget it, I added to myself.

Harry put down his sketchbook and shook his head. "You sound kind of nasal and muffled…like you have a cold. Sometimes, you're a little hard to understand, but it isn't bad."

I wanted to talk about anything but that, so I picked up the copy of The Great Gatsby, and opened it to the note. "I found this while you were in the hospital." After he finished reading, I turned to the inscription."I think RL and Moony are the same person."

"I never thought about any of the Marauders being girls," he commented picking up the note. "You do know what this means, don't you?"

I shook my head.

There was a gleam in his eye. I could tell that he was enjoying this little mystery. "We can figure out who they were."

"How are we supposed to do that?"

"Well, we know for a fact that RL is Moony…."

"No, we don't know that "for a fact." She could have borrowed the book from Moony and given it back to him with the note inside," I reasoned.

He shook his head. "That book was obviously well loved by someone, and that note doesn't look like the sort of thing you would just forget in a book. We also know that they were here in 1978. All we have to do is go through the yearbooks and find out who has the initials RL and SS."

I sighed. There didn't seem to be much chance of talking him out of this. My own logic said that it wouldn't be that simple, but I knew it was one way of to spend more time with him. I followed him grudgingly down the halls and into the library.

Granger was standing at the check out desk with a pile of books the size of a small mountain when we came in. She smiled at Harry and glared at me. Harry must have asked about Weasley, because she rolled her eyes and said, "Ron study? Are you insane? He's too busy wasting time with his brothers. What are you two doing here?"

I was about to tell her that it was none of her business, but Harry came up answered her instead. "We found a note in an old book and we're going to look up who wrote it. Do you know where they keep the old year books?"

She nodded, and we followed her to a dusty old corner of the library. There were several copies of all of the yearbooks from 1950 on forward. I picked up a copy of the 1978 yearbook, and went directly for the "S's." "I'll look for SS," I told them.

Out of a class of seventy people, you would think that the initials SS wouldn't be that common. You would be wrong. I found six names within the first ten minutes I was at it. I did laugh when I saw Severus Snape on the list. The image of Snape penning a desperate love letter to some girl seemed too farfetched, and I took the liberty of putting his name at the bottom.

Harry and Hermione weren't quite as lucky. There was not one girl in the 1978 class with the initials RL. Hermione went back to pick up another couple of years, when I noticed Harry stop dead in his tracks.

"Everything all right?" I asked.

He nodded, and I peeked over his shoulder at a smiling couple dressed in formal wear. The words "Prom King and Queen 1978" were across the top, and I recognized the boy in the picture instantly. These were Harry's parents. His mother was a beautiful redhead with bright green eyes, and his father was the exact image of Harry. The look on Harry's face was pained.

"What's wrong?" I asked setting aside my own yearbook.

"I…It's nothing." He shut the book, and looked away.

Something inside of me told me to leave it be for now.

Our search for RL didn't go that well. We found a few girls with those initials, but none of them seemed particularly mischievous. It was late in the day when we abandoned our quest. It seemed impossible to pinpoint the couple. I was tempted to tell Harry "I told you so," but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Back in the Room of Requirement, I watched as Harry picked up his sketchpad and began drawing. I knew that he was discouraged by not solving his mystery, but I really didn't know why it mattered so much to him. I admit, I was curious, but he seemed to take finding them more seriously. Something told me that even though he was giving up for the moment, he would not forget about this.

As weeks went by and spring break neared, I saw much more of Harry. With hockey season over, he spent most of his free time holed up in the room. He looked sad, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out why. I tried several times to ask him what was wrong, but he always shrugged and looked away. It was like he just turned off inside completely. Not even the mystery of the lovers could draw him out of his shell.

About a week before break was to begin, I found him curled on the sofa. I watched him for a long time. His body was trembling, and I though that maybe he was crying, but when he lifted his head, his eyes were dry.

I sighed and sat down beside him not knowing what was wrong or how to fix it. "Are you homesick?" I asked. I remembered that he had not been home since the start of the school year.

He shook his head. "I never get homesick. Do you? Do you miss your parents?"

"I miss my mother," I told him thoughtfully, "and I guess I miss my father sometimes."

"Why only sometimes?"

Shrugging, I tried to think of the best way to describe the relationship I had with my father. "He's not very easy to get along with."

A wry smile came to his lips, and I was glad to see it there. "Reminds me of someone else I know."

I laughed. "I am not hard to deal with! How about you?"

As quickly as the smile had come, it was gone. "I can't miss them."

All of the signs were telling me to leave the subject alone, and I did. Instead, I turned my attention to the notebook. Flipping to the first new drawing, I sat there in shock. He had drawn his parents. They were older. Harry was standing between them wearing a short-sleeved shirt with no scars on his arms. He was smiling. Harry had drawn what he desired most in this world. "It's beautiful," I told him.

"I wish it were real," he said. The passion behind those words was not lost on me. His eyes stayed on the sketch, as though he could make it real by staring at it long enough.

"I'm staying here over break," I announced. That was, of course, something that I had just come up with, and I knew my mother would be disappointed. But, I just couldn't leave him all alone at school then.

He looked at me with a sort of gratitude that made my heart feel light. Despite all of his barriers, he was lonely. I could see that he desperately wanted to let me in, but I could also see fear. It was like looking into a mirror, really. For all the years Blaise and I had been friends, Blaise didn't understand me. He didn't know what it meant to be different, to feel like a misfit. Harry and I were alike in that way. Maybe that was why I had decided to stay, because I knew that it was one small way to let him know that I cared about him. Whatever was waiting for him at home, I knew it wasn't good. I had seen enough of Harry's odd behavior to know that he was the product of something terrible, and I was willing to be there for him.