DISCLAIMER: WE DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER

xaNicole: Helloooo (: WE'RE BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK. Sorry it took so long to put up... we would have had it done sooner but the amount of homework the pair of us is given is unholy. Plus, I've had a pretty hectic first 3 weeks of school... I've gone through schedule changes and everything and now I have to double up on science classes next year to get my biology credit... I've had this written for a while but I never got around to typing it... so I typed it out tonight and wanted to post it ASAP! So please enjoy (:

loverdearestMaria: Helloooo everyone. Well, here is the next chapter for our story Porphecies xD We hope you like it and enjoy.
And OMG, there was a damn cockroach in my freakin room! Gah. I am PETRIFIED!

It had been several months since they had lost the second war against Lord Voldemort. They had fled the Manor leaving almost everything behind. There were no casualties or serious injuries. A few bumps and bruises, a cut, scratch or scrape here and there. The worst was a broken wrist. Harry had returned to the Burrow and the students had been returned to Hogwarts to take their NEWTs and were given the option to either leave right after or stay the rest of the year. Ginny, according to Kingsley, didn't need to take hers since she had participated in the Battle last year. She, Harry, Ron, Fred and Angelina returned to the Burrow and soon after, went into hiding.

Harry knew what was going to happen next. The questions and accusations… Harry had killed him the last time and people who where there and witness it would question if he really did kill Voldemort. Some might even go as far as saying he and Voldemort were allies and Harry was just covering up and that he had really been working with Voldemort since his parents' deaths.

He knew no matter what he tried to say, he'd be accused of lying. Just like fifth year. Harry clenched his fist, revealing the scar, now white and healed, that he had received in his fifth year from all those detentions with Dolores Umbridge.

'I must not tell lies' was permanently etched into his hand in his own handwriting.

"But I wasn't lying then and I'm not lying now."

"Harry! Mum's calling you for supper," Ginny called from downstairs. Harry got up and left his room in Number Four, Privet Drive.

He walked down the familiar staircase and into the dining room.

"Here you go, dear," Mrs. Weasley said passing him a bowl of beef stew.

Harry didn't feel much like eating… he hadn't felt much like eating for the past few days. The last time he had eaten anything was before they left the Burrow two days ago. He'd been up in his room staring out the window.

Though he wasn't very hungry, he finished the bowl of stew before returning to his room and resuming his inactivity.

Harry didn't mean to zone out on anybody but he didn't know what else to do. This wasn't the first time that Harry had felt alone… but it was the first time he had felt completely and totally helpless. He had no idea what to do this time around… Voldemort had another horcrux and Hermione had done the unthinkable and raised the Dark Lord herself.

She'd been on their side until her seventeenth birthday. What they had done or said to her while she was there had corrupted her into thinking that she had to do it.

Ron was definitely taking this harder than anybody else. Ron loved Hermione and all he wanted was to have her back.

Harry believed that, out of all of them, Ron was the most devastated and felt the most betrayed. Seeing Hermione with Malfoy at the Manor was enough to set him off. Ron was very much in love with Hermione, and everyone knew whether he wanted them to or not, and seeing her with Draco Malfoy was too much to bear. Ron hadn't eaten since they'd gotten home and now that they'd moved to Number Four, Privet Drive, he hadn't come out of the room that had belonged to Dudley.

Upon returning to Number Four, Harry had, for the first time in months, thought about the Dursleys. Harry had turned eighteen back in July and that meant that Dudley was already eighteen and was, wherever they lived down, attending his last year of school. Harry smiled at the thought of him coming home after his seventh year, had his life been normal at all, and Dudley throwing a fit about how he had one more year and Harry didn't.

Harry had so many grim memories dealing with this house and being here with the Weasleys wasn't normal for him. The Weasleys had only been here once and that visit was disastrous… but it was rather funny when Dudley had eaten the Ton-Tongue Toffee.

It was times like these when Harry wished he had Hedwig… and Sirius. He needed someone to talk to about what was going on. Ron was shut down, he didn't want to bother with Ginny and Sirius… well, Sirius was dead.

Harry sat in his room in frustration. He guessed he could write a letter to Sirius and burn it. People said that worked. HE got a fresh roll of parchment, a quill with ink and began writing.

Padfoot,

Things aren't going good at all. Hermione's been taken and Voldemort's back. I don't know what to do. I have nobody now. Ron's shut down and I don't want to bother Ginny with my problems when I've already caused her and her family to go into hiding. I don't even have you. You're gone and I miss you. Hedwig's dead too which means I can't really talk to anyone anymore… besides, now isn't the time for sending letters since we're all in hiding… but at least Hedwig would have been someone to talk to. I'm not going to lie... I'm scared. I wish you were still here… to help and to talk to me. I'm not quite sure if writing this letter and burning it will help but it's worth a shot. If it works, I'll write again soon.

-Harry

Harry folded the letter and slipped it in an envelope and sealed it.

"Incendio," he said, pointing his wand at the parchment in his hand.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he said, watching the burning parchment levitate.

When the letter had burnt to nothing but ash, Harry was left with nothing but the lingering scent of smoke and the feeling that he had just wasted parchment, ink and time.

"Why do people even do that?" he asked himself and he swept up the ash, "It doesn't even work."

Harry sat and gave a frustrated huff. He didn't know what to do now. He couldn't talk to Sirius or Ron. He didn't want to burden Ginny or Mrs. Weasley with his problems and Hermione… well, Hermione wasn't Hermione anymore.

And, besides, she wasn't there anyway.

Harry sighed and turned out the light. He laid down and drifted into an uneasy slumber.