Wrong step, We got off track
We need someone to help us get back now
Harry abruptly woke from his nap. Disoriented, he tried to recall why exactly he was lying on the couch. Then it came flooding back. The Mind Healer, the "discussion" they had about his upbringing, his crying in front of her. His face heated in mortification at his lack of control over his emotions. I can't believe I totally broke down like that. Some hero I am. Can't even keep it together talking about ancient history. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes.
"Oh, good, you're awake," came a voice just over Harry's shoulder. "Dinner's on the table. Why don't you join us?"
Harry slipped his glasses back on his nose and studied the only 'mother' he could remember. Though her face was smiling, her eyes were not. Her eyes belied the great sadness she carried within. The skin under her eyes were red. More lines than he could ever recall her having testified to the hard year that they'd all lived. Grey was also more prevalent in her red hair. This woman had seen him through so many situations, had shown him unconditional love, gave him his first hug (that he could remember).
"I'm not really all that hungry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry sheepishly replied.
"Nonsense. A good wind would blow you away. Now come on."
Recognizing her tone as the 'don't bother arguing, you'll just lose' tone, Harry followed Molly into the kitchen. Memories flooded Harry's mind of this warm and inviting room. It was the room in which Molly had first invited him into the summer before his second year. The room in which he'd been accepted by Arthur the instant the man had met him. It was also the room in which he'd fully met Ginny, even if she had squeaked and run off. The summer before his fourth year, he'd learned of the Quidditch World Cup. Before his sixth year, he'd begun to notice how beautiful Ginny had become.
All these visions danced before his eyes as he stood just inside the door, warming his heart. That is, until the family sat at the table leaving a glaring spot where the twins should have been. Harry's heart gave a painful throb and he reached up to rub his chest, vision trying to blur with tears. Swallowing hard, he caught the look in Charlie's eye and, remembering the man's former threat about force feeding him, Harry sat quickly.
Just as he sat, reluctant footsteps caught his attention and he turned. George entered the room, eyes downcast, pale and with a demeanor more suited to Percy than the mischievous twin Harry had known him to be. George sat in his customary place, putting him directly across from Harry. Harry wanted so badly to apologize to George for what the twin was no doubt suffering through but even to Harry the words sounded lame. Instead, Harry turned his attention to putting food on his plate, stomach beginning to churn as he did so
Stilted conversation filled the tense silence for a little while. Harry had to fight to hold down every bite of food he took but he was managing until one voice stopped him cold.
"Fred wouldn't like this," George spoke in a flat tone, emphasizing Fred's name. "Fred," again emphasizing the name, "wouldn't want us to be this quiet. Fred would want the family to be loud and boisterous like we're supposed to be."
All eyes had flown to George as he started to speak. All eyes but Harry's. The instant George had uttered Fred's name, the twin's death replayed through Harry's mind. The sights, the sounds, the smells, they were all vividly reproduced for Harry's viewing displeasure. Each time Fred's name was mentioned a knife turned in Harry's chest making it hard to breathe.
"Fred would've pranked everyone by now," George continued, seemingly unaware of Harry's plight.
It was that last mentioning of Fred that had Harry running for the nearest door. He flung open the back door and ran. Only getting as far as a few feet from the porch, he leaned against the house and lost whatever he'd eaten.
The undeniable sounds of someone being sick reached the occupants in the kitchen. Accusing stares shifted from the kitchen window to George.
"Happy now?" Ginny angrily asked.
"Yeah, feel better, George?" Ron snapped.
"What? What are you looking at me like that for?"
"You know bloody well what we're talking about!" Ginny whispered forcefully, ignoring her mother's admonishing voice.
"We're trying to get Harry back with us not push him away and in one fell swoop you may have undone everything that Bill, Charlie and I have accomplished so far."
"Everyone seemed to need reminding. No one else has mentioned Fred yet."
George started to get angry with the attack upon him and he became rather defensive, lashing out with whatever came to mind.
"You all are so bloody worried about him," George pointed out the window, "that it's like you've forgotten Fred. Well, I haven't forgotten him. I'll never forget."
"We haven't forgotten Fred," Bill spoke quietly, firmly. "Neither has Harry. Why else do you think he's out there now heaving his guts out? You're not the only one who's been affected by the loss of Fred but you're acting like it. I know you were closer to him than all of us but you need to realize that we're all suffering in our own ways. I know you're looking for someone to blame but don't you dare put it on Harry's shoulders."
"Found a replacement for Fred already?" George threw down his serviette. "Well, then, let's all bow down to the great Harry Potter, shall we?"
George stormed from the room just as the Floo was activating. The once mischievous twin didn't stop to see who had come through but continued on to his room slamming the door once he got there. Arthur stood momentarily shocked by his middle son. When the Floo activated to allow Percy through, Arthur headed for the kitchen. Ginny was in the process of filling a glass of water. Molly was rummaging around in her potions pantry for something. Everyone else appeared a mix of angry and sad. He experienced his own pang of sadness at the emptiness of Fred's chair. That's when he noticed another empty chair. He'd received an owl from Molly telling him Harry had come back to them but now the lad seemed to have disappeared. Grimly, Arthur sighed. Victory wasn't supposed to be like this.
"What happened with George? Why did he go stomping out of here like a disrespected hippogriff? And where's Harry?"
Ginny took a vial of a green bubbly potion, the glass of water and went out the back door. Molly leaned against the sink a moment before turning back to her husband. She proceeded to explain all that had happened that afternoon and during the meal.
Ginny found Harry sitting on the ground, knees up, arms wrapped around his legs with his head on his knees. He looked so small and vulnerable it tore at her heart. Quiet sniffles could just be heard above the birds chirping in the evening heat. She sat beside him and wordlessly handed Harry the water. She waited as he quickly swiped at the tears before taking a few sips.
"Here, Mum said this would help your throat."
Harry took the vial of potion, completely embarrassed to know they'd heard him. Popping the tiny cork, he downed the potion and nearly gagged at the taste. It tasted about how he'd smelled after returning from the Chamber of Secrets, sweaty, dirty, slimy, and covered in basilisk blood. He gave a couple choking coughs half afraid his stomach would protest the vile stuff.
"Merlin, that stuff's nasty," he wheezed. "Is there like a law somewhere that says all potions must taste horrible?"
"You're not supposed to want to take them," Ginny replied cheekily.
One corner of Harry's mouth quirked upward slightly before he sighed.
"Maybe I should just go back home, Gin. I don't want to cause anymore disruptions with your family."
"We're you're family, too, Harry. And George didn't mean any of what he said. You know that."
"You all have suffered enough. Having me around is just a reminder that I'm here and Fred isn't."
Starting to get angry now, Ginny turned to face Harry fully.
"And what would you do at Grimmauld Place, huh? Shut yourself away from everyone? Lie around, drink yourself into oblivion because you can't seem to stop?"
His own temper flaring, Harry's eyes flashed dangerously and when he spoke, each word was uttered very deliberately.
"I can stop anytime I want. You're just like Hermione! You think you know what's best for me but you don't! You don't know what's it's like to constantly be reminded that you're a reminder of someone somebody's lost!"
Harry was yelling now and he knew it but he couldn't seem to stop or to stem the hurtful words spewing from his mouth.
"I don't need your sanctimonious attitude so save it! I didn't ask for you to come out here! I didn't ask for you stick your nose in where it doesn't belong! So butt out!"
Harry jumped up and stormed off toward the edge of some woods a little ways away. Ginny watched him hurry off. She wanted to follow him and continue the argument, hoping to get him to see reason, but feared that was the wrong tactic to take. A few sniffles escaped her control but she refused to shed any tears. Sighing, she realized the kitchen had gone quiet and headed back inside. She wasn't looking forward to facing the looks but felt it better than going and making things worse with Harry.
For his part, Harry muttered to himself the entire way towards the forest's edge. How dare she? Who does she think she is? She just doesn't know what it's like live your entire life reminding someone of someone. So I take a little drink now and then? Okay, maybe more than a little but so what? It keeps me sane. Is that too much to ask? It's my life, after all. I can do with it what I want.
Harry ruthlessly squashed the little voice that told him she loved him and was trying to help. Fuming, he pulled his wand and cast a muffliato in the house's direction. Sure that no one could hear a thing, he let a frustrated roar and punched the nearest tree. The pain that radiated up his arm kept him from doing that again. Fury still raging, he paced like a cornered animal. Reaching into his other pocket, Harry pulled out his ever-present shard of glass while revealing his arm with his free hand, having no clue his secret was about to be revealed.
After Ginny returned to the kitchen, Percy left the table and headed out into the backyard under the pretense of taking a walk to clear his head after the entire dinner theatrics. He was surprised when no one actually stopped him but since no one had, he continued on towards the trees where Ginny had said Harry had headed. He could just make out a figure pacing back and forth and decided to approach from a different direction to give Harry some time to vent his anger.
Percy didn't give Harry much time, however. He wasn't very far away and winced when Harry hit the tree. Harry's next move stopped Percy dead in his tracks. He stared, uncomprehendingly, a moment as Harry withdrew something from his pocket. Percy's jaw dropped as he watched, horrified, as Harry slashed the exposed arm drawing a fair amount of blood. Red flowing ribbons appeared as Harry vented his anger and pain. When it didn't appear that Harry had any plans of stopping, Percy snapped out of his stupor and ran forward.
"Stop! Harry, stop it, right now! What the bloody hell are you doing?"
Harry's eyes met Percy's and the Weasley caught a glimpse of anguish in the younger man's eyes. Harry tried to yank his sleeves back down, disregarding the blood but Percy grabbed both Harry's hands before he could. Percy's horrified gaze bounced from the glass still clenched in Harry's fist, Harry's now very bloody arm and Harry's pleading gaze.
"Harry," Percy spoke quietly, "how long has this been going on?"
At Harry's stubborn silence, Percy drew his wand and cleaned away the blood. With a few well-placed spells, he healed the newest cuts. Lighting his wand to get a better view, Percy then inspected Harry's arm for any serious damage. The pale crisscrossing from elbow to wrist told a tale of rage, guilt, of a pain so deep it blew away any lingering doubts about Harry, not that there had been much of any to begin with. Percy healed the hand Harry had used to hit the tree before meeting the kid's eyes, for that's what Percy saw when he looked at Harry. A kid. He may have been almost eighteen but Harry gave off the sense of a lost little child who had been kicked too many times, no knowing what to do, where to go, or how to act. Percy's heart went out to Harry. He couldn't imagine the kind of grief that would cause a person to do this. Mum and Dad need to know this. Ginny, too. Maybe they can help. Harry must have read something in his expression for he yanked away from Percy's grasp.
"You can't say anything. To anyone."
"The hell I can't! Harry, you need-,"
"What do you care? You've made it perfectly clear what you think of me. It's none of your damn business what I do!"
"Okay, yes, I deserved that once upon a time, Harry. I admit it and I'm not proud of it. But my entire family can't be wrong about you, can they? My sister can't be wrong about you. She loves you, Harry and she wants to help you. We all do. We're family and family doesn't give up on each other."
Percy sighed, thought quickly. This went against what his instincts were telling him but he didn't want Harry disappearing again.
"I'll tell you what I will do. For the next few days, I'll keep silent on the condition that you tell someone about this before your next Healer appointment."
"Fine," Harry spat out before walking away, tugging at his shirtsleeves.
Bollocks, I should have made him hand over that piece of glass. Why didn't I think of that before? Damn, I shouldn't have offered that agreement. Now what do I do? Someone needs to watch him and I'm not going to be here. I need some advice but who could I ask? I'll have to give it some thought.
Percy headed back to the house, thoughts racing, ideas forming and being discarded as he went.
Upon entering the house, Harry's gaze flitted from one person to the next before mumbling something about heading upstairs. With all the boys back under the same roof, Harry had assumed he'd be placed with Ron again and Mrs. Weasley confirmed it. He nodded vaguely in acknowledgment and disappeared. Once in Ron's room, he lie on the camp bed, back to the door and closed his eyes, though he didn't sleep. His thoughts were too manic in his head to allow sleep. Besides that, it was getting really dark out and Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd actually slept while the night was deep.
After a while, Ron came in, shuffled around and collapsed upon his bed. Loud snores signified the redhead had drifted off. Harry waited an hour before getting up. Opening the door, he listened intently for signs anyone was still up. Not hearing anything, he crept back downstairs, remembering to skip the squeaky steps. He silently slipped onto the sofa, drawing his knees up to his chest, to wait out the dark. The house creaked and groaned as all houses tend to do. The tick tock of a clock counted off the passing seconds. A few birds sang into the night while the scurrying of pastoral wildlife searching for any scrap of food reached his ears.
After his head jerked upward for the third time, Harry got up and wandered the room. Can't fall asleep. Can't fall asleep. Only nightmares await me if I sleep now and I don't want to wake anyone. That's the last thing they need right now. Harry whiled away the hours staring at photos, lightly touching artwork hanging over the fireplace from when the kids were young or just wandering the downstairs area, anything to keep the other thoughts at bay.
Finally, as the sun began to chase away the blackness, Harry decided to go back to Ron's room before he was caught. Mrs. Weasley was an early riser and she was the last person he wanted to be caught by which, of course, meant she was the first person he saw.
"Harry, what are you doing up this early, dear?"
Harry stared at the woman who had given him so much, licked his lips and lied. "I just came down to get a drink of water. I'm heading back up now. I'll see you later."
And before she could say anything else, he hurried off. He was a terrible liar and he knew it. He just hoped she didn't pry. He breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the attic room without further incident. Slipping under the blankets of his bed, he rolled over and allowed sleep to take over.
Molly watched Harry practically run up the stairs. She had a sneaking suspicion he hadn't spoken the truth. Entering the kitchen and finding not a single used glass anywhere only confirmed what she was thinking. What was he really doing down here? Had he even slept at all? I'm going to have to keep my eye on that boy. It would not do for him to waste away to nothing. I won't have it. What kind of victory would it be if he wasn't here to celebrate with us? Those thoughts brought Fred's image to mind and a few tears spilled onto her cheeks before she hastily wiped them away.
"Harry's still asleep. Shouldn't we wake him up? He's going to miss breakfast."
Molly glanced at her youngest son. She didn't feel as if it was her place to mention Harry's nighttime activity. She pasted a weak smile on her face.
"Just let him sleep, Ron. If anyone deserved to have a lie-in it would be Harry. Now eat before the food gets cold."
Molly caught Arthur's eye and both left the room. Arthur didn't have to go in to the Ministry until later that morning since he would be staying later than usual to help get things back to normal there. The two of them sat on the sofa.
"I know that look, Molly. What's wrong?"
"It's Harry," Molly wrung her hands, her eyes involuntarily glanced up the stairs, "When I came down to start breakfast, I passed him on the stairs. He said he'd come down for a drink but when I got to the kitchen, there wasn't a glass anywhere."
"Maybe he put it away."
"I don't think so, Arthur. It just didn't feel like an honest statement."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm not so sure he slept last night. Oh, I know he went up to Ron's room after dinner but I really don't think he got any sleep."
"Ron's in the kitchen, why don't we ask him?"
The two anxiously entered the kitchen. Ron was still stuffing his face.
"Ron, there's something we need to ask you."
Ron glanced between his parents and swallowed.
"Okay."
"Ron...did Harry...I mean...was Harry..." Molly trailed off.
"Did Harry sleep last night, Ron?"
Ron furrowed his brow and glanced at Bill, Charlie and Fleur before turning back to his father.
"He was when I went to bed. Why?"
Arthur smiled. "Oh, no reason, just checking."
Unsatisfied with that answer, Ron started to say something when Ginny and Hermione entered the room. Instead, he greeted the girls.
"Harry's not up, yet?" Ginny asked, taking stock of who sat around the table. "Maybe I should go wake him up."
"You'll do no such thing, young lady," came Molly's stern voice. "It wouldn't be proper for you to go waltzing into a boy's room like that. No telling what you might see or hear. Besides, that boy deserves the chance to sleep late so you just let him be."
Ginny rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I'm not naïve, Mum. I do have six older brothers. Don't you think I'd have learned something about boys by now?"
Instead of answering, tears silently slipped down her mother's face. Thinking back on what she'd said, Ginny grew pale. At one time, she did have six older brothers but not anymore. Sniffling, she went over to her mum and enveloped her in a huge hug.
"I'm sorry, Mum," she whispered. "I didn't think."
"It's alright, Ginny," Molly replied with a watery smile. "We're all going to slip up occasionally. We'll just have to get used to it. As for Harry, I get the feeling he didn't sleep much last night, so we're just going to let him sleep as much as he needs to."
Sometime after lunch, Harry finally surfaced. He wandered downstairs in search of the others. He'd slept in his clothes and needed to retrieve some more if he was going to be staying at the Burrow. Peeking into the sitting room, he found Ron, Hermione, Ginny, George and Molly, who noticed him standing at the foot of the stairs.
"Harry! Sleep well? How about some lunch?"
"I'm okay, Mrs. Weasley, but thanks."
"Nonsense. You need to eat. How about I fix you some soup? That would be easy on your stomach."
Without waiting for an answer, the Weasley matriarch hopped up and headed for the kitchen. Harry just watched her a moment knowing full well there was no way he could talk her out of it. He turned back to greet the others only to find Ginny and Ron had gotten up and joined him. Ginny gave him a quick but tender hug and Ron patted Harry's shoulder.
"How you doing, mate?"
Harry shrugged. "I'm okay."
He then turned to greet George. The former twin stared at the three of them stonily before slipping passed them up the stairs and to his room, the door slamming shut. Harry's eyes dropped to the floor, his shoulders drooping in dejection. Thinking to change the mood, Ron broke the awkward silence.
"Hey, we got Kreacher to bring you some clothes."
Astonished, Harry eyed his best mate. "How did you do that? I ordered him to Hogwarts. I didn't think he could follow another's orders."
"I called him, Harry," Ginny revealed quietly, shrugging. "It was worth a shot. We didn't want you to have to go back to that house so I called Kreacher. Guess he decided to see what I wanted. Anyway, they're over there."
Ginny pointed to a trunk by the front door. Relieved he was going to be able to get a shower, he rummaged around and found a change of clothes. Before he knew it, the long sleeved shirt he'd pulled out was stolen from him.
"How can you stand to wear this now, Harry?" Hermione asked. "It's broiling outside."
Harry snatched the shirt back. "Doesn't matter. You're not the one wearing it, now are you? Maybe I happen to like it?"
"That would be sudden," Hermione's voice taking on a bossy tone, "You've never shown this like for long sleeves in the summer before. I just can't figure out why the change of heart."
"I can't figure out how you got Kreacher to obey you."
"Who do you think told us how bad things were getting with you?"
Harry stared, dumbfounded, at Ron. Kreacher? Harry didn't know whether to be angry or thankful. Yes, the elf had disobeyed a direct order. However, it brought him back to the Weasleys, which he was thankful for, wasn't he?
"I didn't think a house-elf could go against its master's wishes."
"Dobby did, mate," Ron quietly said.
Harry opened his mouth but snapped it shut after a second. Pain shot through him at the mention of the excitable elf. The annoying, exasperating, lovable, dear little elf gambled his life to save 'Harry Potter, sir' and paid with his life. Harry's vision blurred, the effort to breathe normally was great. A gentle touch on his arm brought him back to those gathered before him. He gave Ginny a watery smile.
"He followed you around awhile," Ginny continued the story. "When he realized you were getting worse instead of better, he came to us. He didn't say anything specific but just enough to make us realize you weren't doing well."
At first, Harry was livid that his orders had been disobeyed. His eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, face flushed with his anger. Unbidden, a vision of Kreacher leading an army of house-elves against Voldemort came to mind. His ire deflated so fast it left him a bit dizzy. Shaking the memory away, he sighed.
"Don't be angry with him, Harry," Hermione jumped in, noting his anger. "He did what he thought was right."
"I know. He still disobeyed me, though."
"Only to protect you. He was worried about you. And with good reason apparently."
Irritation mounting again, Harry hugged his clothes to him, mumbled about taking a shower and left. Ginny watched Harry hurry off and turned to the bushy-haired girl.
"Way to go, Hermione. You basically told him he was crazy."
"I did not. I just said that there was reason to worry. You can't deny it."
"I'm not trying to but I'm also not shoving it in his face, either."
Hermione opened her mouth to retort but Ron jumped in between them dragging Hermione away before Ginny decided to pull her wand. Ginny huffed and stomped up to her room, listening for the sounds of the shower and wondering, again, why Harry insisted on wearing such hot clothing. She assumed it had something to do with the war. Perhaps more scars and he's afraid to show them but Ron and Hermione had come through their escapades fairly unscathed, not counting the few burn marks on their arms. Surely that's not it, is it? Bollocks, that boy can be so frustrating. I love him, though. I hope he understands that. I hope he knows he can talk to me without fear of me judging him or telling him what he should do. Hermione's right, though. There's definitely a good reason to worry.
Putting it aside for the moment, she sighed and went to apologize to her friend.
The next couple days were nearly carbon copies of that day. Harry spent the nights awake, slept in the following morning. He'd find the others and, invariably, George would stare at him and leave the room without a sound. Someone would comment about Harry's sudden aversion to summer clothing which would send Harry biting that person's head off or he'd walk sullenly away to brood. George's passive aggressiveness at meals began to eat away at any cheerful conversation anyone could find. Whenever Harry would start to smile, even just a little, George would throw out Fred's name or mention Remus and Tonks sending Harry to withdraw inside himself again and to excuse himself from the table, not returning until he was sure everyone had finished eating. More often than not, he headed outside. On more than one occasion, Harry caught Percy staring at his arms whenever he'd come back inside. Reflexively, Harry pulled his sleeves down a little more making absolutely sure they were as far down as they'd go.
It was a close call, one day, when Mrs. Weasley had gathered all the laundry and was beginning to load the washer. She picked up one of Harry's shirts and clucked her tongue at the long sleeves. I don't know how that boy can stand these in this heat. She started to toss it into the washer when something caught her eye. What is this? She scraped at the rust colored stain on the sleeve. This looks like blood. Why on earth would there be blood on Harry's sleeves? I don't recall him having hurt himself. She was still puzzling the matter out when Harry happened to walk by.
"Harry, dear!"
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley?"
Molly held up the stained sleeve, noting how pale Harry suddenly became.
"How did you get blood on your shirt?"
"I...er...I...um...I must have caught it on something outside. A tree branch or thorn bush or something."
To Molly's practiced ears and eyes, she knew Harry was lying but she didn't want to push so she pasted a smile on her face and nodded her acceptance of his explanation. She sighed as tears clouded her vision. Something is going on with that boy. I just wish I knew what. How can we help him if he won't talk to us about it? I hope he opens up to someone soon. Maybe Healer Emenda can do what we've so far been unable to do. Guess it doesn't help with George acting out the way he's been. I think I need to have a talk with him. He's allowed to grieve, Merlin knows we all are, but I won't stand for him heaving all this on Harry. That boy's done enough for all of us, it's about time someone acknowledges that.
By the fourth evening meal, tempers were running high, tension was tying knots in the family. In George's eyes, everyone doted on the Chosen One. His mum kept mothering the kid. His father kept attempting to draw the Savior of the Wizarding World into conversation. His brothers, Hermione and Fleur remained silent and Ginny, her eyes rarely strayed from the 'Great One'. And Harry, well, he was eating it all up. Fed up, George stood to leave only to be halted by his father.
"Sit down, George. The meal isn't over. You're not leaving this table until the meal is over."
"I don't want to sit down and you can't make me. I'm not sitting at the same table as him. He ruined everything." George turned to stare into Harry's eyes. "You ruined EVERYTHING! And now you're trying to replace Fred. Well, you may have them wrapped around your finger but not me."
George made to leave again but Arthur stood and firmly spoke. "Sit. Down. George. We're not doing this anymore."
Harry stood, too. "It's okay, Mr. Weasley. I can go."
"Harry, don't you move, either," Arthur sternly responded to that.
Arthur, seeing Harry wasn't leaving, turned back to George.
"George, I know you're hurting, we all are, but Harry is NOT to blame for any of this. It was a war and those who fought knew the risks. If it weren't for Harry this family would have lost several members long before the war began in earnest. I, myself, wouldn't be here."
"There you go, sticking up for him again. He doesn't even act like it bothers him!" George turned to Harry. "Does it bother you? Does it bother you that so many good people were killed? That Teddy doesn't have any parents? That Colin is dead? That now I have to learn how to be one person instead of two? Huh? Does it bother you at all? Because it sure doesn't look that way!"
Before anyone else could speak, Percy jumped up, walked around the dinner table and met Harry's gaze.
"I'm sorry Harry but I have to do this."
Without any further warning, Percy grabbed Harry's left wrist in one hand and yanked the sleeve up as far as it would go, revealing the track marks left by Harry's 'glass moments'. The older ones had whitened while the newer ones were reddened and slightly puckered. Harry didn't dare meet anyone's gaze and so hung his head.
"You want to know if he's been affected, George? Here's your bloody proof. "
"Scars," George sneered. "It's not like he doesn't have any of those already."
"Granted but these are self-inflicted."
He looked around at all the shocked faces, letting that little tidbit sink in. He walked to Harry's other side and revealed Harry's other arm. More gasps, tears and horrified stares. After a moment, Percy spoke quietly. He'd noticed Harry had begun trembling, had seen the shame and embarrassment on the boy's face.
"You asked if it bothers him. Yes, George, it does. It bothers him so greatly that he's been punishing himself for all his perceived transgressions. And you heaping on the guilt trips aren't helping matters. It's a wonder Harry hasn't cut himself so badly to have lost the use of one or both arms, not to mention hitting a vital artery."
Percy turned his back on his family to look at Harry, whose eyes remained closed, head still bowed.
"Harry, you're not at fault here. You're family and you always will be."
Harry couldn't take any more. His stomach lurched and he dashed out the back door. Percy nodded to Ginny, who followed Harry. Then he turned back to George.
"Don't tear this family apart, George. Don't be me. This is the time when we need to lean on each other. We need to rely on each other to get through this. Fred wouldn't blame Harry. If you'd take a second and think about it, you'd know that. If he could, he'd tell you that he went out with a laugh, just like he'd always hoped he would."
"Those scars," George hesitantly asked, "they really self-inflicted?"
"Yes, they are. Unfortunately, I've seen firsthand proof."
"You WHAT?" Molly yelled, "You knew of this and didn't see fit to tell anyone? Percival Weasley, you'd better have a very good reason why or so help me I'll-."
"I thought it Harry's secret to reveal, Mum. I told him that he either told someone within the next few days or I would. He agreed to do it."
There really wasn't much to say after that. Through the open window, sounds of sickness, sobbing and soothing comfort could be heard. There wasn't a doubt who was sobbing and who was comforting. Percy gave George one final look before regaining his chair and picking up his fork.
George, completely struck speechless, remained standing. He thought, really thought, about all he'd heard and his face crumpled, mirroring the agony within. He dropped into his chair, leaned over and cried into his hands. All this time he'd been so wrong.
I should have known better. I've known Harry for years. I know how he can get when something happens that he thinks he should have been able to prevent. He was always good at taking guilt that didn't belong to him. How many times have I seen him, after Cedric's death, get yelled at by some student and he'd just stand there and take it as if he deserved it. Oh, Merlin, what have I done? Fred, you have to help me. You were always the one with the appropriate words. I need your help now. I have go out there and apologize to Harry.
George stood up but was stopped by Arthur. "Where are you going, son?"
"I need to go speak to Harry. I've been so wrong about everything. I need to see if he can forgive me."
Arthur nodded his head and let his second youngest son go. The Weasley patriarch turned to the remaining family around the table.
"Perhaps it's best if we retired to the sitting room until things have settled."
The family silently left the kitchen affording those outside some privacy.
Having her arms around him elicited two conflicting emotions in Harry. As he sat against the outside wall of the Burrow, his head resting on Ginny's shoulder, one of her hands soothingly running through his hair, the other rubbing his back, Harry couldn't help think how good it felt to be held by her again but he also couldn't help thinking he didn't deserve her and wished she wasn't so nice to him. His tears having finally dried up, he continued to sniffle.
"I'm so sorry, Gin. You don't deserve to have your family split again. I should just go."
"Don't go," a voice softly whispered from somewhere over Ginny's head.
He felt Ginny tense. He was so weary of the fighting. He just didn't have the strength for it anymore so he didn't bother looking up to see who had come outside.
"What do you want, George. Haven't you done enough already?"
Ginny's cold voice hurt George. She'd never spoken to him or Fred in such a manner. Her voice was so cold, George shivered as if a Dementor had suddenly floated by.
"I know I deserved that. I was hoping to talk to Harry a second."
Every muscle in Harry's body tensed. Ginny continued to rub his back and stare at George.
"I'm not leaving Harry so whatever you want to say, say it."
"Fair enough." George cleared his throat. "Harry, I was so wrong about everything. I should have known better. I've known you for years. I should have trusted what I knew about you. I didn't. I let my grief cloud my judgment and I hurt you. I'll never forgive myself for that but I'm hoping, someday, you can. Listen to me, Harry. You are NOT to blame for the losses of the light. Moldyshorts is. That's where the blame belongs. You saved us all. I'll never be able to understand how you could do what you did but I'm thankful and I'm not going to let their deaths be cheapened in any way by alienating myself from this family. Now, more than ever, we need to be able to rely on each other to get each other through."
George shrugged. "Well, anyway, that's what I wanted to say."
George turned and started back to the house. Before he reached the door, a voice reached out to him in the darkness.
"George? I think I can forgive you. It may take some time, though. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about Fred."
George's shoulders drooped in relief. Without turning, George sent his reply over his shoulder.
"It's okay, Harry. I understand. Thank you."
With that, he opened the door an returned to the family who he'd severely disappointed and vowed to make it up to each and every one of them, somehow.
Ginny continued to sit with Harry until he was ready to go inside. She didn't speak of the scars on Harry's arms. She knew he'd talk when he was ready and she'd be there. She believed the talk with George would go a long way in healing some other wounds. They were finally on the right track toward happiness.