A/N: Drabble 50. The italics come from HPOtP page 646-647 of the Australian version.
Addiction
'You… this isn't a criticism, Harry! But you do … sort of … I mean – don't you think you've got a bit of a – a – saving-people thing?'
Harry couldn't get those words out of his head.
Saving-people thing
It was as if all his efforts over the last few years meant nothing to her. A saving-people thing. What was that supposed to mean! All the things he gave up, all the hopes and dreams, the possibility of a fresh start, it was all ripped away as soon as he set foot in the Wizarding World and she had the gall to throw it back in his face as a saving-people thing, that Harry was acting the hero.
Well fuck them. They acted like he was addicted to his fame, to the adrenaline, to being the hero.
Harry spun around all the while ranting under his breath. He didn't need them criticizing everything he did. How could he trust them not to be talking behind his back? How could he trust them when clearly they didn't trust him? Now, with Sirius dead, he needed their support more than ever but just couldn't bring himself to go to them, he didn't want Ron's obliviousness or Hermione's self righteousness. He wanted –
He wanted warm arms wrapped around him. He wanted trust and love and the forgiveness that he couldn't give to himself at the moment. He wanted him.
As a frustrated and heart wrenching sob ripped through Harry he felt warm arms close around him. Sweet nothings were murmured into his ear as he was dragged into a seat and held. Forgiveness was what he received.
