Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters you see. All rights belong to the respective owners and I am making no money off of this.


Fading Illusions

Chapter 9: Thunder and Lightning


It was a perfectly dreadful Monday morning when Petunia sent Harry off to the bus stop. The sky was filled with ominous dark clouds that looked heavy with rain and the promise of thunder. The muggy heat of the end of summer was making its presence known as everyone sweated through their clothes. It wasn't cool enough for sweaters, which were usually baggy enough on his frame to burrow into. Harry rolled up his sleeves and ran a hand through his hair which had started to cling to his forehead with sweat.

By the time the bus arrived, Harry went to his customary spot at the back of the group and waited for everyone else to board. Walking onto the bus was not refreshing. It was hotter than the air outside, but it didn't have a welcoming breeze. Instead, the refreshing smell of sweaty teenagers filled the air.

Harry had seen Hermione's face from the window of the bus, but it was blurry from the condensation on the glass. He sat down in his spot next to her and steeled himself for a tight hug that seemed inevitable. Hermione was more perceptive than Harry gave her credit for. Or maybe he was getting worse at hiding. Either or both could be the truth, but Harry would never know. Hermione's hug was less intense than normal but he could still feel the love in it. Given the heat outside, it was a breath of fresh air.

Hermione's eyes were wide. "It's been a week!"

Harry solemnly nodded. It had been a very long week. He was glad to be back. Back into a routine, back to school, back with Hermione.

"Has it?" Harry said offhandedly. He curled one side of his lips up in a mockery of a smile.

"Yes!" She nudged his side. "I kept bringing you lunch, 'cause I never knew when you'd be back. But here you are!" She gave a little laugh and relaxed into the seat behind her.

"Here I am."

"What happened?"

Harry looked out to the aisle and with a shrug said, "I had the flu."

Hermione looked at his cheeks, which seemed more hollow than the last time she saw him. "Again?" Her tone was dry. Her eyes betrayed her bone-deep worry.

He gave her a fake smile. "Of course."

They both knew the truth.

Neither his words nor the fading green-yellow marks on his arm reassured her. He saw her eyeing them and then looked her in the eyes before rolling down his too long sleeves back down. They didn't' talk about it. Hermione bit her lips and leaned back into the seat.

"I wish you wouldn't get the flu as much." She fiddled with her hands as if she felt awkward for bringing up Harry's supposed illness. But Harry knew what she was trying to say though. I'm sorry your family hurts you. I wish they would stop. I wish that I could help. Harry let out a forlorn sigh.

"Me too, 'Mi," Harry responded quietly as he copied her movement. He frowned and then moved his body forward. With a skinny hand, he reached behind him and grabbed the buckle of the seat belt attached to the bus. He glared at it before swinging it over the edge of the chair to swing helplessly. He sighed in satisfaction as he could sit unencumbered in the seat without the bulky piece digging into his backside. Hermione let out a snicker.

"I stopped by a bunch, with soup that Mom made for you. Your aunt always answered the door but she never let me in. After a while I guess she got annoyed and stopped coming to the door."

Harry chuckled. "That was you?" He looked her in her brown eyes and his affection for her grew.

Hermione was confused. "What was me?"

"The doorbell. I thought it went off more than usual, but Aunt Petunia once left a garden party and said it was just the girl scouts. She said you couldn't take a hint. I thought you were a ten year old girl trying to sell Petunia cookies." Harry's smile was bright.

"Yeah, it probably was me. I kept thinking about you, ya know." A piece of hair flew in front of her face and she blew it away with an annoyed huff.

Harry nodded his head in agreement. "Me too."

"I, uh," Harry started. He held up his hand and shook it a bit, showing off the bracelet Hermione had made. Hermione beamed when she recognized it.

"Your bracelet! Gosh, that seems like such a long time ago." She reached for his arm and carefully examined it before flipping it around his wrist

"I know," he said sheepishly. He never understood how one measly little knot could elude him, but he liked it whenever Hermione took the effort to tie it onto him, anchoring him to her once more.

Hermione peered at the knot at the end of it closely. "How did you get it on? You've never been able to before."

"I guess I had the right motivation," Harry shrugged, both uncomfortable remembering exactly what his motivation was, but proud that he had finally managed to do it.

Hermione guessed at what the past week must have been like for her best friend and her heart ached. She hummed in response and kicked her legs back and forth. A bright flash and then a loud rumble of thunder appeared from outside, startling the both of them. Harry flinched.

"When do you leave?" Harry asked, keeping his tone casual. He remembered the fight that they had the week before.

"Next week…" Hermione replied, trailing off. Hermione rested her head against the cool glass of the window and let out a heavy sigh.

"Oh."

"Yeah. I've been finishing up the work I have for classes here, but I honestly don't think I really need to. Probably just need to feel some sort of completion before I leave, I guess"

"And you probably started reading stuff for Hawthorne, too. Am I right?" Harry turned his head and cracked a smug smile.

"Surprise, you got me. Yeah, they sent a book list and the syllabi so I won't be too far behind."

"Ah, how'd I know?"

"Because you're obviously psychic. Duh."

"Yep, that's me. Call me, uh,-" Harry scrunched his face as he thought of a suitable name.

"The Physic?" Hermione suggested. Harry waved off her recommendation.

"Hermione, I appreciate the suggestion, but you aren't good at naming things," Harry countered. Hermione scoffed.

"I'd be called something more mysterious, like The Oracle. That sounds much better." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You don't have to put 'the' before every title, 'Mione. Yours sounds like a superhero villain."

Hermione started again, raising her fingers as she listed off reasons why she was correct. "My idea was clear, straight to the point, easy to write on a business card. If you were trying to sell your services-"

Harry interrupted her. "Hey, who said anything about selling stuff?"

Hermione smirked at him. "Me. Just now." Hermione said, as if Harry was particularly slow.

"I'm not going to go out and be 'The Psychic' and telling fortunes for money! I'll save my talents for important things, like predicting who wins the World Series."

"So you'll do what, exactly, as you predict the future in private? Play soccer professionally?" Hermione was joking, but Harry's mood suddenly plummeted. Right, he thought. Soccer. He had almost forgotten.

"I can't play anymore." The overhead light of the bus cast an eerie glow on his face, highlighting the shadows under his cheeks.

"What? Why? You love soccer!" Hermione exclaimed as a frown settled on her face.

"I just can't," Harry mumbled. He crossed his arms and let his shoulders drop.

"You can't?" The bus suddenly made a sharp turn, knocking Hermione into Harry's shoulders and they both almost fell out of the seat. He let out a hiss of pain and Hermione quickly righted herself in her seat.

"I can't! I'm not allowed! Vernon took me off the team." Thunder echoed around the bus once more as Harry spoke, muffling his voice slightly but Hermione could hear him just fine.

Hermione's hair frizzed up in a way that had nothing to do with the humidity. "He can't take you off the team! It's a team! You were on it!"

"Don't you think I already know that, 'Mione! He said no, so it's a no." He gave her a mirthless smile and Hermione didn't know how to react. She twisted the bottom of her shirt in her fist.

"But can't you-" Hermione tried, pleading with her best friend to try and keep doing something he loved.

"No, I really can't," said Harry in a defeated voice. And he was defeated. He already accepted the fate bestowed upon him by Vernon. And while he should be angry, should fight back—he was just so tired.

"Sorry," Hermione replied after a moment of silence. Or, as silent as it could get on the bus.

"Yeah, me too." Hermione tentatively leaned her head on Harry's shoulder, and when he didn't shrug her off, she settled in. It had started to rain. The two of them watched as raindrops hit the window and splattered off of the bus.


Harry dialed his locker combination into the lock and opened the door with a groan. He slid his backpack off of his shoulders and onto the ground. Students passed by, laughing and talking. He was alone. Hermione had to go talk with a teacher about finishing up her work before she officially left, and Harry wondered to himself if this is what it felt like. To do perfectly ordinary things alone, when Hermione should be right there next to him.

He finished putting the books from his morning classes away and then started gathering his books for the rest of the day. He reached down onto one knee to pull a stray piece of looseleaf out from the bottom of his locker when he was suddenly pushed over, the piece of paper he had just grabbed torn in half.

"Potty!"

Of course it was Dudley.

"Mom said you're back in school today. I hope you kept up with my homework." Harry heard sniggering behind him at Dudley's statement. He guessed it was the usual suspects: Piers, Dennis, and Malcolm.

Harry gritted his teeth and didn't look up or turn around to confirm his suspicions. "You never gave me anything, Dudley." He moved so he was kneeling before placing a palm on the floor and pushed with his hand to stand upright again.

"How forgetful of me. I want everything done by the end of today. You have a lot of catching up to do."

Dudley took a step forward, causing Harry to take a step back into the lockers to keep away from one of his tormentors. Harry felt the cold metal of the locker digging into this abused back, but he refused to react.

Dudley smirked and Harry could smell the cinnamon gum he was always chewing, despite the school rule against it. He shoved an armful of papers and notebooks into Harry's chest, causing Harry to let out a pained gasp. "Better hurry, Potty." Harry refused to react, keeping his head down and his eyes focused on the papers clutched in his arms.

Dennis spoke up, a leer etched onto his face. "Maybe you could get your pretty friend to help? I'm sure she does more than just get on her knees for you. After all, how much good will her brain do when she's got a mouth like that." Harry restrained himself from talking and instead took deep breaths. The last time he retaliated had not ended well for him.

Piers Polkiss sneered at Harry. "Or do you not do that for her? She's so uptight and all. Maybe she just needs the right type of man to help her sort it all out." He made a lewd gesture with his hips and Harry saw red.

Like lightning, a bolt of protectiveness descended over Harry. He couldn't resist the instinctual urge to defend Hermione, his family. She was his family in a way that the Dursleys would never be. Harry would always defend Hermione, even if it ended badly for him, which was a likely end to his outburst.

"Come off it. Hermione is better than you and all your friends combined. We all know you are going to graduate from here and nobody will remember or care about you. But you're nothing. Hermione is going to Hawthorne Academy- yes I see that look on your face, that Hawthorne Academy- and will be so much more successful in her life than even me. So stop talking about her like she is a piece of meat!" Harry was breathing harshly through his nose after his tirade and was ready to face the consequences. And they were swift.

Dudley threw a punch at Harry who dodged it and quickly dodged it, still embracing the papers in his arms. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted a hall monitor turn into the hallway that they were in. Refusing to get caught, Harry turned away from them and started walking away. He gave the hall monitor a polite smile which was returned, upon seeing a hardworking student with plenty of papers in hand. Her smile turned to a disapproving frown when she saw a group of boys loitering in the hallways. Thanking his good fortune, he continued walking, not turning around even when Piers shouted something at his back.

"So your friend is finally realizing how useless you are and is leaving you too?" Harry didn't bother with a response. He had none.

He went to their empty classroom, soon to be his empty classroom. Emphasis on the empty after Hermione left once and for all.

Harry started the work that Dudley had shoved at him in quiet, filling the room with sounds of graphite strokes on paper. The thunder outside didn't bother him anymore, simply adding to the ambiance of the room.

Hermione stopped by and they talk more about Hawthorne and all of the opportunities it offered. Harry's mood darkened a bit when the school was mentioned. All Harry could imagine was Hermione there and happy… Without him. His mood worsened as he glanced at Dudley's homework, unfinished on the desk. He would be stuck with the Dursleys for the rest of his life. His mind wondered how long it could possibly be. He was shaken out of his thoughts when Hermione's happy voice filtered back to him.

"And there's so many chances to network! Like, Governor Malfoy's son goes there! I wonder if he'll be as nice as his dad seems to be!" Hermione's eyes lit up like every time she talked about something that interested her and she would talk with her hands, moving them with every word she spoke. It would be one of the things that Harry would miss most about her.

"I bet he's a slimeball," Harry said in a joking tone, but in his heart he wasn't really kidding. Who knew with those politician types. Hermione threw a paper ball at his head, which Harry skillfully avoided.

Hermione spoke again, eyes filled with a teasing sparkle. "And Elora Zabini sends her son there!"

"She's so hot," Harry said, a dreamy look on his face.

Hermione let out a snort and gave Harry a teasing grin. "You're such a teenage boy."

Harry's face lit up in a blush that spread to the tips of his ears once he realized what he had just said. He gave Hermione a nervous smile. "Hey! I like her, uh, work."

Hermione made sure to look distinctly unimpressed at Harry's crush on the beautiful actress. "Name one of the movies that she is in!"

"Wingflux!" Harry shouted out, remembering seeing the movie with Hermione one time. She cocked her head to one side, her hair falling over her shoulder and grudgingly nodded her head when she remembered the movie.

Suddenly she narrowed her eyes, "Oh alright, I guess that counts." Harry raised his fists in celebration and sent her a smug smile before breaking out into an excited grin. It made his entire face look younger, highlighting his smile and his eyes instead of his thin features.

"I'm pretty sure that Leon Johnson's kids go there, too!" Harry said.

"Who?" Hermione's head moved backward and she made a face as she tried to think about the name.

"Famous football player? Led his team in four Super Bowl wins? Also known as 'Neon Leon'? Because of that one time…" He stopped trying to explain, knowing that Hermione really had no idea what he was talking about. He let out a huff.

"You're such a teenage girl," Harry repeated, throwing her earlier words back at him. Hermione laughed and something in Harry melted a little bit. He tried not to think about how much he would miss her laugh. And all her different kinds of laughs, too. Her giggle that made its first appearance with the girl's crush on Mr. Lockhart, and her silent snickers whenever Harry said something disparaging after she realized that Lockhart was a fake. Her snort when she read something funny in the newspaper comics. Her loud banshee laugh when Harry tickled her sides. Harry would miss all of them immensely.

Talking about Hawthorne Academy and all of the famous children and rich heirs that went there made Harry uneasy. He was happy for Hermione, as this was an opportunity that she deserved. She deserved the world and more, in Harry's opinion. The school's alumni network was bound to help any graduate get into any college or field of their choice. It was a dream come true. Except Harry couldn't dream about his life without Hermione there. He hoped she wouldn't forget him.


Harry walked to the gym during his free period to talk with Coach Kettleburn. His sleeves were down, he had already checked. The doors in the gym are open, revealing the rain coming down in sheets outside. Flashes of lightning illuminated the darkness outside, followed by their obligatory rumbles of thunder. It seemed peaceful, in a way, Harry thought. He started moving towards the coach's office door, ignoring the anxiety he felt about interacting with his coach.

Vernon had forbidden him from talking to the man, but Harry had to tell him that he was off the team. After everything that Kettleburn had done for him, it was the courteous, normal thing to do.

Harry saw Coach Kettleburn sitting in an orange padded chair and took in the rest of the office. Everything was orange, a testament to Smeltings' school colors. Harry rapped on the side of the open door and greeted him. "Hey, Coach."

Coach Kettleburn looked up and knocked his head to the side to invite Harry in.

Kettleburn looked Harry up and down slowly before asking, "Where've you been, kid?"

Harry responded with the same answer that he gave Hermione. "I had the flu, Coach." He rubbed his nose and gave a sniffle. It was a convincing story in Harry's opinion, given how often he told people he had been sick. The last time he was actually visibly sick helped lend credence to his tales.

Kettleburn's grizzled appearance appeared soft, if Harry could even describe it as that. "I hope you're feeling better, kid. You got a doctors note?"

"Huh?" Harry was startled. Asking about a doctors note was something that Harry was not expecting. Nobody had ever asked for one before, always taking his excuses at face value. According to the rumor mill that the Dursleys had spread around town, Harry was a sickly child who was always getting into fights and into trouble.

"The school rules are that you can't have more than three unexcused absences or else you can't play on a team." Kettleburn stood up from his chair and walked to a filing cabinet, where he lifted up a thick, bound notebook. The top read 'Stonewall High School Student Handbook' with a large, badly drawn cartoon of a coyote. Harry made a face.

"You don't like the drawing? I take it that you've never seen it before. This is the student handbook." Kettleburn tapped the front of the book, poking the coyote in the face. "The rules are in here."

"Yeah, I have never seen that before. And I don't have a note." Harry tried to stay emotionless throughout the conversation but it was hard. He would rather face down Dudley's gang with his hands tied behind his back than take himself off the team.

"Well, I'm sure that you could get one if the—" he glanced at Harry from the corner of his eye, "flu was bad enough that you were gone for a week."

Kettleburn didn't seem convinced that Harry truly had the flu. Harry gulped once before trying to school his expression again. Once he knew his voice wouldn't waver, Harry spoke up.

"No, I don't think that would work." His words were slow but unaffected. To Harry, they sounded perfectly normal. To Kettleburn, he sounded robotic with the lack of emotion. For a boy who was normally so emotional and excited, the lines sounded too rehearsed to be natural.

Kettleburn looked torn, almost like he wanted to bend the rules just for Harry's sake. A lump formed in the boy's throat at the thought.

Finally, the man spoke with reluctance in his voice, "Kid, I'm sorry but you can't play without one."

And Kettleburn really did look sorry. It wasn't the fake sort of emotion that countless teachers had given him in the past. Instead, Kettleburn's eyes stared sadly at Harry and he looked like he wanted to reach out and give Harry a hug. Harry unconsciously stepped back. He crossed his arms in front of him and gave Kettleburn a plastic smile more suited for a doll than a person.

"No, that's fine. My uncle took me off the team, anyway."

Kettleburn wasn't staring at him now, he was staring at Harry's arms, where yellow bruises could be seen peeking out from under his shirt. Harry cursed in his head before pulling down the fabric to his wrists. Kettleburn leveled him an unimpressed stare.

"Your uncle, huh." Kettleburn's expression turned sour at the mention of the man. "Wanna talk about him?"

Harry gave a raspy shout of a laugh that was filled with little amusement.

"No, he thinks you've done enough of that already." Harry's tone had grown a touch colder as he remembered that Kettleburn had filed a report that had made the past week even worse than it normally would have been for him.

Kettleburn gave a gruff snort and looked at the boy across from him.

"No, kid. I really don't think I have."


A/N: I'm back! Sorry for the wait! Moving in was weird and I like my lab work and I will hopefully be getting paid soon, so that's cool.

The football that I reference here is American football, hence the mention of the Super Bowl. Leon Johnson is also a fake character. I chose 'Leon' as Angelina Johnson's dad's name because it kinda sounds like lion. Also, 'Wingflux,' the movie that Elora Zabini is in, is fake. Thought I should clear that up.

Shoutout to dylanpidge for helping out with this chapter!

Personally, I think that I have gotten a lot better at dialogue the more I write so ty for sticking with me this far. ALSO THANK YOU to everyone who is commenting and subscribing! I love checking my email and it is one of you guys! Makes my entire week. And yes, we are getting pretty deep into the Harry whump chapters, but I keep saying it is going to get worse before it gets better. Next chapter includes what Harry's life is like with Hermione gone and he finds that his temper and patience are worse off. I think we all need some Hermione in our lives, Harry most of all.

Check out my oneshot for this 'verse called Wheels on the Bus! It's on my profile, and it's about how these two met without magic. I have a bunch more in the works, so stay tuned!

Thanks for reading!