Disclaimer: Not my universe. I'm making no money from this story, sadly. One day, I'll be a published writer. For now, I stick to fan fiction. (And I'm loving every second of writing fan fiction.)
Author's Note: Obviously I'm not updating as much as I used too. I don't have a good excuse except for the plot bunny that was bouncing around for me. I focused on writing that one-shot, and it took me a few days to write. (It's title is But It Breaks Your Heart.) I know I posted that a while ago, but it seems the inspiration bug just wouldn't pay me a visit again. I'm posting this now though, so… here it is.
Chapter 8
Pretending
Hermione stood abruptly.
"Come with us," she said, dragging Ron with her. Harry followed, obediently, as she led them to the common room.
As they walked to the common room, a hundred thoughts flew through his head. Who knew what they had done?
As they flumped down on the couch, Hermione looked around. No one was there.
"Harry, Professor Lupin doesn't pity you. He's concerned. We weren't sure how to tell you this, and now certainly wasn't when we were planning, but…" she trailed off. She elbowed Ron slightly signaling him to speak. He coughed slightly, but jerkily nodded and began to speak.
"But, me and Hermione were worried about you…are worried about you."
His inward mantra beginning, Harry played it cool. "What do you mean? Nothing's wrong," he said, lying. Deep in his mind a voice was screaming at him, tell them the truth. But he hushed it.
"We, Harry… err…" Ron stuttered. How do you tell your friend you suspect his relatives are abusive?
Hermione took pity on Ron's troubles and worked up her Gryffindor courage to speak herself. "We are afraid for you Harry, because we believe the Dursley's are more than just emotionally abusive and more than just neglectful."
Harry began to protest but paused at Hermione's expression.
"Hear me out," she said forcefully. "You told me the cupboard was the only bad thing they did, but Ron told me before second year they locked you in your room and starved you. They never send you Christmas presents. You hate going home," she took a deep breath. "Harry, for Merlin's sake, you used to flinch whenever someone touched you!"
"Maybe, my family doesn't love," he sneered, "me as much as your families love you. Maybe they don't have money to spend on everything. But that doesn't mean they hit me," he said, teeth gritted.
"Mate, don't get mad," Ron started. "But the beggart, I recognized it as your uncle's voice. That's what got us thinking, and well…we went to Professor Lupin though, and told him what we thought. He was suspicious too."
"So you've been talking about me behind my back!" Harry shouted.
"NO! We've been concerned. So we went to a teacher for help. If nothing's wrong Harry, you won't mind removing your GLAMOUR charm would you?" Hermione said.
'How do they know about those?'
"I have no glamour charms on," he lied firmly.
"Then why are you so defensive Harry?" she questioned, concern in her eyes.
"I'm defensive because you're interrogating me!" he shouted.
"But, you have nothing to hide," she said, playing along.
Harry looked around the room distressed. He pleadingly caught Ron's wandering eyes, but the look clearly said he sided with Hermione.
"Look, I do have a glamour on," he began. It was the key to telling lies. Make them as realistic as possible, without being true. "I fell into a glass table over the summer," he said, sticking with the story he told Neville.
"And why didn't they take you to the hospital? That's a serious injury," Hermione said, not missing a beat.
"Because I didn't get injured that badly. I was just embarrassed about it," he said, truthfully, and yet, not.
Ron screwed his eyes shut tightly for a moment. Then he opened them and stood abruptly. He began to pace, causing their attention to be directed towards him.
"Mate, look, I rescued you with Fred and George. I saw how they treated you. You were locked in. There were bloody bars on your window. They had your stuff in a stinkin' cupboard, and you can sit there and say it's all okay? I think you had a black eye too. I don't get it. I don't get how you can look at us and tell us right to our face that it's just verbal and all. We're your friends. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have made it that summer if it wasn't for me and my family. And all the other stuff we've been through. The stone and the chamber. Maybe we are overreacting, and I guess, if you tell us that now, I'll believe you. But I don't think we are, and well," Ron swallowed deeply. "You owe us the truth. You owe us that much."
Hermione stared over at Ron with respect gleaming in her eyes.
Harry stared over at them both. 'Where did that come from?'
The…rant Ron had just had was certainly surprising in Harry's eyes. Ron was never a deep person, so what he said was strange. Harry heard all of his words and heard his pronouncement of friendship. But he also heard the accusations and the pronouncements of debt. And yet, didn't he owe them? Not in a monetary way or in services rendered, but in
honest-to-god truth and honesty. They were best friends, and in a way, he guessed Ron was right. He did owe him the truth. He was cornered, and lying to his friends was no longer an option. Not anymore.
He swallowed deeply. How much to tell… What to say….
"Look, Ron, I guess…"
Hermione looked at him encouragingly.
"I guess you're right. I do owe you guys the truth. But it's hard to… explain."
Ron stared over at him bleakly.
"We're your friends. We won't hate you," Hermione said, with a weak smile, practically reading his mind.
"I… look, I screw up a lot and all. I've done some pretty crappy stuff at home. I mean, compared to at home, I'm practically rule-abiding and all here. And well, I get punished. It's not a big deal, and it's not all that bad," he said with dead sincerity in his voice. "I get hit sometimes, yeah, but it's not all that bad. I mean, it's not illegal for guardians to hit you, so…"
"But Harry, does that mean there was no glass table?"
"Yeah, I mean, Uncle Vernon got smashed and a bit angry. I'm fine though," he said, still pouring in his honest thoughts.
"Harry, you had to put a glamour charm on to hide it. That's not normal!" she screeched.
He blinked at her. Ron and Hermione exchanged exasperated looks.
"Mate, we're gonna have to go to a teacher. Professor Lupin will help. He's call the aurors, and you won't have to go back there."
His breath caught. Aurors. Other people knowing??? His breath quickened with fear. He wasn't ready for other people to know!
There was a ringing in his ears, and he had the sense of falling, despite already being sitting.
A faraway voice was saying something that he could not hear. It was like the voice was coming from the end of a tunnel, and there was wind all about. His breath sped up.
"Breathe, breathe," he heard the voice proclaim.
He listened and put his head down and took deep breaths. 'It's all okay. It's all okay.'
He didn't know how long had gone by. For all he knew, it was seconds or it was hours.
When he regained more awareness, he felt a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles. He looked up with bleary, embarrassed eyes, to see not Hermione or Ron, but Professor Lupin.
He jerked upright and backed to the far end of the couch.
Professor Lupin looked at him. And he sighed.
"Harry, Ron came to get me," he said by way of explanation. "They were worried when you had the panic attack. They have told me that you need to tell me something," he said.
Harry glared over at them.
"But, they kept your confidence and said you needed to tell me yourself."
Harry stared over at them with confusion. He then spoke with a hoarse voice, "I said there's nothing to tell."
Hermione sighed with near pain in her heart. "Harry, if we're overreacting, and we're wrong, then Professor Lupin will tell us so. But, we're not just going to drop this, so you might as well tell him, even if it's just to get us off your back."
Hermione breathlessly sat down. Ron stared at him. Professor Lupin looked like he was restraining himself from saying something.
Harry didn't realize it then, but that was a defining moment in his life. For it is those types of moments that shape us.
He began to speak.
Author's Note: I hope you liked this update. Please review. If there are any questions at all about this story, feel free to mention them in your review or PM me. I will answer within a day or two most likely.
Also, I know my decription of a panic attack was not the most accurate, and the reason is, I've never experienced one, nor met someone who has experienced one. I hope you can forgive any discrepancies.
On a side note: If someone could please explain the beta process in detail to me, I would appreciate it. (PM me for this.) The basics, how you get a beta, what exactly they do, how you get them your story, etc? I'm not looking for volunteers, just information.
