Half Lives – Chapter Ten

Harry sighed. Ever since his minor panic attack, the household had been walking on egg shells, staring at him like he was some exotic creature; incredibly rare, incredibly dangerous, and incredibly breakable. It got Harry's hackles up. There were two exceptions though; as always. Hermione, although convinced he was over-doing it, was still the same nagging, helpful Hermione she'd always been. On the other side, Ron was also different. He had somehow found something in Harry's situation to be jealous of, or so Harry assumed, because Ron currently wasn't talking to him. He seemed to be aware of his actions though, because he still snapped at his mother whenever she got too overbearing, and made an effort to treat Harry the same as ever. Harry knew that as long as he wasn't monopolising their joint best friend, then Ron was happy.

Ah.

Something clicked in Harry's head. It made him feel a little uneasy. Did he want his best friend to start fancying his other best friend? Where would that leave him? Wouldn't it be weird? What if they broke up? And for that matter, when did this start and why didn't Ron consult Harry before embarking on this...this...fancy?

Harry realised that maybe he was overreacting, and maybe he didn't really have a say in it. He sighed again.

-0-

"If it's really that odious to research how to help your own godfather cope with his depression, caused by years at the mercy of soul-sucking monsters because he was loyal to your parents, then maybe you would care to join Ron and research why the Veil didn't kill you?" Hermione snapped, looking up suddenly.

Harry wisely didn't sigh again. He was silent for awhile, the only sound in the boys' bedroom was the turning of pages as the three friend read various books on various unappetising topics. Then Harry threw down the muggle library book and gave Hermione a funny half smile. "Go on then. Pass me a new one. This book on depression is making me depressed."

Hermione smiled back, and heaved a small thin book over to him. "Ways of Wizards." She declared. "It's full of legends and myths." As soon as the book fell into Harry's outstretched hand, his other hand flew out to help. For such a tiny book, it weighed a ton. "Learn anything new about Sirius?" Hermione asked carefully, aware that it was a stressful topic.

Harry shrugged. "He still talks to James at night." Harry admitted. "But I don't mind so much. It helps him, and we're getting to know him." Hermione gave him a disapproving look, she agreed with their old defence professor about Harry's night time talks with his godfather. "And I try to get him to talk about, feelings, stuff, in the day. But it's not exactly easy. The parents don't want me to talk to him, and the only activity he's got any interest in is moping and brooding. He ignores me mostly." Hermione gave him a sympathetic look and leant over to squeeze his hand. Ron snorted. Harry ignored him. "On the up side," Harry continued brightly, "he thinks Tonks is in love with Remus, and he's been trying to stick them together. It's true." He added seeing their faces. "But now Tonks is all anguished and embarrassed with Sirius for stepping in to sort out her love life, so she's angry at Sirius. And Remus can't believe that Sirius would mess around with Tonks' feelings without consulting either of them, so he's angry with Sirius. And Sirius tells us about this injustice all. The. Time."

"Well," Hermione said eventually, "at least he's talking to you. Interacting. Extending his life beyond his own existence. That's what you wanted right?"

James didn't bother to point out that no, what he really wanted, was a family again. Trust Sirius to work in the wrong direction and mess the plan up. "I just, I finally have something good here, Hermione." Harry said finally. His new life plan included telling his friends these things; secrets, thoughts, emotions and such. Bottling them up led to unadvisable trips to the Ministry. From the corner Ron asked if they hadn't been good enough for him over the past five years. Both Harry and Hermione ignored him. "But Sirius isn't cooperating. But that's okay, because he's ill. So, I'm going to make him better. Then I'm going to make him my godfather." That Get A Godfather plan was really coming along nicely.

"And he doesn't have any choice in the matter, right?" Hermione asked, amused at his tone.

"Right."

Harry gave Hermione a slightly sickly smile. He didn't tell her that he hadn't been exactly present for the entirety of the conversation. He hoped James hadn't said anything. Harry's insides knotted. What had seemed a noble endeavour at first, learn more about his father in order to help his godfather, was beginning to spiral out of control. He could hear James laugh in the back of his head when he tried to sleep.

Later that evening, after Harry had escaped from a dinner where everyone had tried to avoid looking at Harry but avoid being seen to avoid him, Harry was completely un-avoided by Ginny. She had surprised him whilst he was on his way to the attic. Harry had jumped, and Ginny used the advantage to crowd him into a corner. Crowd was an accurate verb, Harry thought dazedly. Red hair and flashing eyes seemed to have wormed their way into ever corner of his vision and thoughts, suffocating him from the rest of the world.

-0-

"Well Harry." She began in a self-important tone. "I don't know what's going on with you right now – Cirice knows you three never tell me anything, and you haven't exactly been constant – but I realise that my little speech to you about not toying with me, and me then turning round and using you to get at Ron – sorry about that by the way, well, I doubt it's going to help whatever is happening to you. So, I give up." She said with an air of finality, moving back. Harry irrationally felt like there was suddenly more oxygen in the air. "Don't think I didn't mean what I said, because I still think you have treated me awfully. I didn't think you had it in you. And don't think I'm giving up on you just yet, but I'm, backing off, for want of a better word. Drama and whatever it is that keeps not-happening between us isn't going to help you, especially after your attack the other day. So, I'll just, give you time." She exhaled with a nod, said goodbye, and, with a sudden air of self-consciousness, turned and left.

Harry wondered what it was with people staging meaningful, shadowy discussions behind not closed doors and suddenly developing likings for long, overly practiced and self-important monologues these days. But, he shook his head, what did he know? He barely knew anyone here, and he spent most of his thoughts trying to get Evans to talk to him, after all.

And Fleur, Fleur was another matter entirely. She was possibly more troublesome than the house' new argument and monologue habits. It was bad enough the whole house was poisoned against her, convinced she had stolen Bill and was now stealing Harry just to flaunt it in their faces. But the effect she had on James! It made Harry go red just thinking about it. He didn't want to hear those sorts of things from his own father. Even if it was a pseudo version that had taken up residence in his own head. Harry was just glad Bill and Fleur only visited on weekends. James disagreed.

Harry spent much of the next week trying to ignore James and think about Ginny. Having James talk directly to him without experiencing a blackout was new, and it scared Harry. He felt surer than ever that he should tell someone about James. His Anti-Catastrophe Plan could only succeed if he admitted that sometimes he needed help, not just with executing ideas, but also with understanding the potentially important events of his chaotic life as well. And Harry knew that the blackouts would be counted as potentially important.

But he didn't want to think about that. So he thought about Ginny. She had been true to her word and had given him space ever since she crowded him into the corner after dinner. It was an admirable effort, actually, considering that they both lived in the same small house and had to eat every meal together. Harry knew Ginny used to have a crush on him, but he had thought that with her recent interest in Michael Corner, or Dean Thomas or whoever, that she had moved on and forgotten about it. Over the last year they had slowly become something close to friends in their own right, not just the little sister and the best friend of Ron Weasley. And whilst having Ginny nearly kiss him (he still didn't understand why she did that to annoy her brother) had been unexpected, it wasn't wholly unwelcome. Harry found it too odd to think about Ron's little sister like that (it was Ginny after all), but the idea didn't give him the heebie-jeebies like it once would have. Harry had vaguely wondered what that meant, but at that moment James resurfaced and began annoying Harry (one of his favourite pastimes), and Harry was suitably distracted from the awkward feelings that arose when he thought about Ginny. Unfortunately, that also meant he had to deal with thinking about James again.

-0-

"Sorry, what did you say?" Harry looked up suddenly. He was sitting in the kitchen, with a cup of tea in front of him, and Ron and Hermione relaxing in chairs opposite. His stomach felt sick.

"Honestly, Harry, weren't you listening?" Hermione asked rhetorically. "I said reading about depression is all very well, but I'm not sure how just reading is going to help Sirius."

Harry glanced around the room worriedly. What had he been doing? He thought back. The last thing he remembered was brushing his teeth after breakfast. After that...nothing. Maybe a more appropriate question was – what had James been doing? Harry took a sip of tea to cover his confusion. "Urgh!" He nearly spat the tea back out. "It's cold!"

Ron laughed slightly meanly. "We know," Hermione said sarcastically, "you did exactly the same thing ten minutes ago. It isn't going to warm itself up again."

"Oh yeah." Harry said quietly, with a forced smile. He looked down at his mug. James took sugar with his tea. "I think I'm going crazy." He muttered. Ron sniggered again. He steeled himself; he had to tell someone about his memory blanks. But he opened his mouth to speak, a sudden pain erupted in the base of his skull.

No! No! I won't let you! They won't understand! They never understand! What will you get out of telling them? They'll only laugh. They never believe you.

Shut up, James. Harry thought grimly.

They don't even like you. Look at them, look how close they are.

Harry looked. It was true, they were sitting on their own chairs, but they were leant close together, not touching, but nearly. And they both looked completely unconscious of it. They looked like a pair.

They are a pair. And there are only two people in a pair. It won't work. They'll never believe you. It won't work.

Harry threw a memory in James' face. He heard the small shriek when James ducked to avoid it. Harry grinned. He was going to tell his friends. But maybe he'd better test the water first. "I don't remember my tea going cold at all. Completely forgot about that."

Hermione laughed. After a moment Harry forced a grin. They thought he was joking. He sagged a little inside. He'd try again later. Maybe. At that he felt James grow smug, and that sparked a hot angry feeling within Harry's heart. No. He was not going to be beaten by his own father. He had thrown off Voldemort's possession, killed a baslisk, and led an rescue party (sort of) to the Department of Mysteries! He was not going to be silenced by his own dead father – he was Harry Potter for magic's sake!

"No!" Harry cried out loud (perhaps a bit more passionately than was required) "You don't understand – I don't remember it at all. In fact," he felt a little heady at his own recklessness by defying that voice in the base of his skull, "I've been forgetting things for weeks!"

-0-

Ron and Hermione stared at him. At some point in his exclamation he had stood up. Suddenly he felt very silly and unsure. "Um, you see the thing is," Harry took a deep breath; he had to tell them this, part of his plan to stop more disasters like the Department of Mysteries from happening again was to tell people things not deal with it himself...but he would still rather not tell them. Here's goes nothing.

"The thing is, those memory blanks, they're not new. I've had them all summer." He didn't dare meet anyone's eyes, so he pushed his hand through his hair (letting James guide its movement to stop his hair looking worse than before he'd started) and focused on the patch of air near Ron's left ear "And they're getting longer. At first I'd just miss a few minutes of conversation or something, I thought I'd drifted off. But now I blink and I'm in a different room, with different people, and it's eight hours later, and I don't remember anything, and I don't know what's going on, and in the Ministry Voldemort kind of, possessed me, and what if he's doing it again, and I'm endangering you all, and I can't do a thing to stop it, and you're all going to be hurt, and it's because of me, and, and, but it's all just so..." He trailed off shakily; startled to find that at during his confession Hermione had stood up and was now right beside him.

"Oh, Harry." She said in a very sympathetic voice. She carefully wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. "I know how hard that was for you to admit." She whispered softly in his ear.

Harry stood stock still for a moment. Then all of a sudden something snapped inside of him, and he clung on to his friend like she was the only solid thing in the universe. "I don't know what's happening to me. I, I'm scared, Hermione."

Standing there, Harry felt as though the whole world had melted away, and it was just him, and a painful void somewhere inside of him that was trying to take over. And Harry felt so alone (but he wasn't), so afraid (but James wasn't) and for once in his life, so ready to give up that he could barely breath. And for once, James had nothing to say to that. So Harry breathed in deeply, tried to stop himself shaking, and squeezed his friend tighter. "Help me, Hermione."

Hermione looked up over Harry's shoulder to the room. Ron was staring at them with a sour expression. "I think we need Professor Dumbledore."