A/N: Did you miss me?

The outline for this fic has changed, so there's only three chapters left after this one. I'm focusing on one multi-chapter story at a time right now for my sanity, so LIAF will be my focus until it's complete. Don't forget to review!

Chapter Ten

Or

Don't Let Her Stick it to Your Heart So Hard

Day Ten:

"Say it again."

"I tripped down the stairs, and twisted my ankle."

"Once more."

"Aunt Petunia!"

"Again! I'm not going to have that - that boy of yours coming into my home and getting suspicious of us! I won't have my family put in danger because of you!"

Harry wanted to argue that any suspicions George might have over whether or not the Dursleys had hurt her would be well founded and grounded in reality. However unintentional it may have been, Uncle Vernon was the reason that her ankle was swollen and twisted. She was extremely lucky that it wasn't broken.

She wanted to shout at her aunt that if her family was put in any danger because of her, it was simply because they had put Harriet in danger first.

George was the one she was certain would lose his shit as soon as he saw her wrapped up ankle, though, and he was the one who could legally curse them if he wanted. Even though she had sworn him to no magic inside the house, she wasn't sure she would be able or willing to stop him.

There was nothing she could do about that now, however.

She was so tired and her ankle was throbbing. All she wanted to do was go home and crawl into her bed. She wanted to fall asleep and stay asleep for several hours. She could worry about coming up with a story for George to buy in the morning when he got back, not now when she was exhausted.

Her eyes were already starting to droop by the time Petunia's car pulled into the driveway. She opened the car door, gingerly putting her injured foot down on the pavement first, not expecting any help from her aunt. She wasn't disappointed on that front, her aunt walking straight to the door and digging around in her bag for her house keys.

"Are you coming?" Petunia asked, peering over her shoulder.

Harriet was certain this was her way of asking if she needed any assistance, but she was too stubborn to admit to it. They hadn't given her any crutches at the hospital, but she made do hobbling around. The doctor had said just to have Harriet rest for a few days, and she should be good as new soon enough.

Petunia had crinkled her nose at the doctor's words, and Harry knew she was none too happy with the possibility of having to cook and tend to her own garden during the summer.

But Harriet wasn't going to do it. She refused.

She deserved a few days to rest after everything.

She could deal with Petunia's bad mood later. It was only temporary, after all. She would soon been gone from this place in a few weeks time. She struggled through many summers at the Dursleys before. She could do it now even with a badly twisted ankle.

"Coming," Harriet said, reaching the door at last. She was getting used to stumbling about, but she would be lying if she didn't eye the stairs leading to her bedroom wearily.

"Go to bed," Petunia ordered. Harry wondered if she was doing so out of general concern or if Petunia didn't want to deal with her any longer. "Get some sleep. I'll handle breakfast in the morning."

"How considerate of you," Harry muttered, taking the first step and wincing.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Petunia didn't press any further, though Harry was certain her aunt had heard her correctly in the first place. Instead, she let her niece carefully climb the stairs until she reached her bedroom door. Not having the strength to bother undressing, Harriet collapsed onto her bed, shifting herself awkwardly until she was in a comfortable position underneath her quilt.

2:16 am, the clock on her bedside table flashed. It felt as though the entire world was dead except for her. The silence felt large enough to swallow her.

She fidgeted, burrowing deeper underneath her blankets. It didn't matter now. In just a few short hours, George would be back beside her and she wouldn't feel so lonely. The bed felt empty without him, almost lonely, and Harriet herself felt slightly pathetic for thinking so. She had slept in this bed many more nights without him than she had with him, but she had gotten so used to his company over just the span of a few days.

It was unusual for her to grow so attached to someone so quickly, but she was too tired to ponder over it.

Instead, she closed her eyes, allowing sleep to overtake her.

She dreamed of red hair and blue eyes, her heart pounding in her sleep.

When she awoke at nearly nine the next morning it was to an empty bed, and a quite house.

Day Eleven:

The day burned on, and he still hadn't returned.

Day Twelve:

Harriet was beginning to worry, and nothing good ever came out of her worrying.

The ugly reminder of Sirius slipping through the veil reminded her of that, and it was with a start that she realized she hadn't much thought of Sirius since George had shown up at Privet Drive at the beginning of summer.

She hadn't had time to feel properly sad over the passing of her godfather since, and she felt guilt bubbling up inside of her. What kind of pathetic excuse for a goddaughter was she? Sirius was practically her father. She should have mourned him for longer.

And Remus…

She hadn't even taken the time to write to him to see how he was dealing with all this. He had known Sirius for much longer than she ever had. How must it feel to suddenly get your best friend back after years, only to have him ripped away from you again? She hadn't thought about anything other than her own selfish desires for a boy who was sharing a bed with her.

If Sirius were around to know that he'd likely be livid, she thought.

Remus might be too, but in a more quiet, disappointed sort of way.

The thought made her shudder.

Whenever she did finally decide to write to her old professor, she would leave that part out. It wouldn't do to have a werewolf furious with her new boyfriend. That was, if George ever returned.

Harriet bit her lip, peering out of the window once more where she half expected to see George strolling up to the house as if he hadn't been missing for nearly two days. She wasn't sure if she had any room to be mad at him over him being gone this long. He had promised to return yesterday, but something could have very well gone wrong, delaying him. It wasn't unusual for him and Fred to end up catching something on fire, or worse, injuring themselves in an explosion while working on a product. One of them could have ended up in St. Mungos for all Harry knew.

But wouldn't he have written her if something like that had happened?

He certainly should have, she thought to herself.

Unless he wasn't able to write to her because something awful had happened to him like blowing both his hands clean off or something much worse.

Harriet blinked, shaking her head and willing the intrusive thoughts to leave her mind.

There was nothing she could do right now save for worrying, and it was probably causing her mind to spin and come up with the worst case scenario. That was likely all. If something had gone wrong, she was certain that she would have heard from Ron or one of the other Weasleys by now. They wouldn't leave her in the dark, surely. Not after everything that had happened last time.

Harry stood, slightly wobbly on her still wrapped ankle. She had gotten better about maneuvering herself around over the past few days, but it was still a foreign experience for her. If George were here, he would likely be able to heal her right up with his wand.

If he were here, likely the house would also be burnt down in an angry rage.

She still wasn't sure what she was going to tell him if - when, she corrected herself- he came back, but he had unintentionally given her more time to think about it, at least.

He wouldn't buy that she simply fell down the steps. Not when there was a broken portrait of her cousin sitting against the wall in the stairwell hallway. Petunia had made a phone call that morning to mend the portrait frame, and Dudley's picture stared back at her, mockingly.

She thought about telling George that it happened in some sort of heroic stunt, but he wouldn't buy that either. There was no one to save around Privet Drive.

She wobbled up the stairs to her room, still thinking it over when she stopped suddenly when she realized someone was already in her room.

Petunia.

Petunia was in her room.

Why was Aunt Petunia in her room?

"What are you doing in here?" Harry asked, voicing her thought in a harsh tone before she could stop herself.

Petunia turned to her, holding the floral box of Jane Austen novels in her hands. Pride and Prejudice was sitting on the top of the box, and it looked as if it had been gripped so tightly that it had bent out of shape.

"Where did you find these?" Petunia asked, eyes narrowed. "I hid them a long time ago."

"What does it matter? They're mine. No one else reads them anyway."

"They belonged to your mother first," Petunia said, practically spitting the word at her. "I knew I should have given them away when I had the chance instead of foolishly hanging onto them just because they were Lily's. They were all I had left of her. I was too sentimental for my own good."

"What are you -"

"These books," Petunia said, shaking the copy of Pride and Prejudice in Harriet's face, "are part of the reason your mother ended up getting herself killed. They put all these ideas of love in her head. Of what she thought love could be. Instead of what it should be."

"What do you know about love?" Harriet asked, leaning against the door frame for support. "You and Uncle Vernon, you think that's love?"

"It's security! It's safety! You don't see people beating down my door wanting to murder me because of the man I married!"

"My father was not the reason my mother ended up dying," Harry shouted, feeling herself growing furious. "He died trying to save her! Trying to save me!"

"I tried to talk her out of marrying that man," Petunia continued, ignoring Harry's outburst. "I tried my hardest to get her out of that lifestyle. To come back and be normal, but she just...she wouldn't listen. Now it's happening all over again, but this time with you."

"What are you even talking about?"

"I see the way that boy looks at you, Harriet," Petunia said, her voice dangerously low. "Even when you're not looking at him, he's always looking at you. The same way James Potter looked at my sister. He's just like your father, and one day that's going to end up getting you killed. I can see it happening all over again, and I won't allow it."

"You won't 'allow it?'" Harriet repeated, disbelief evident in her tone. "You don't get to control my life. It's mine."

"I couldn't help your mother, but I can still help you. It's not too late for you to give all of this up. That boy, your magic. Can't you see? It's a curse. The moment you got your letter to that - that school, your fate was sealed. Same as my sister. You see it as freedom, but it's not. It's a death sentence."

Harry stopped for a moment, openly gaping at her aunt's words. She couldn't be serious. Surely her aunt didn't believe a word she was saying.

"You...help me," Harry said, finally finding her voice. "Is that what you think I want? A life like yours. A life without magic? This - this nice house, a sturdy man with a nice job. I don't want any of that! Can't you see how unhappy I would end up being?"

"You don't know what makes you happy! You're too young, and you've been brainwashed by those people! Same as my sister!"

"Where was your help whenever I was being punished for accidental magic?" Harriet pressed on. "For things I couldn't control? Where was your help when I was living in a cupboard underneath the stairs? You were the one doing all of those things! It's you I need help from."

"Everything I did or have done has always been in your best interest," spat Petunia. "It was always to protect you."

"You honestly believe that," said Harry quietly. "Don't you?"

Petunia's eyes narrowed into slits at her niece. "You can think what you want," she said, a tone of finality in her voice. "But if you won't allow me to help you in other ways, then I will do what I can with what little control you have given me."

"What do you mean?"

But Petunia didn't bother answer her. Instead, she pushed past Harriet, shoving her further into the door frame in the process, the box of books still in her hands.

"Where are you going with those?" Harriet shouted, trying to stop her but not being able to do so with her ankle. She couldn't move quickly enough. "Bring them back! They don't belong to you! They're mine! My mother's!"

"I'm getting rid of them. Donating them, burning them. Whatever I have to do to have them gone," Petunia said, descending down the stairs. Harry could hear her snatch her keys from the hallway table. "I should have done it a long time ago."

"No! No, don't! Please!"

Harriet called after her, tripping after going too fast and feeling helpless as she laid on the floor. It was too late. Petunia was already gone, the door slamming shut in her wake.

She had taken the books and Harry was certain she would never get them back.

Time passed slowly for Harry that afternoon.

She had locked herself away in her room out of a mixture of despair and anger, but it didn't really matter. Petunia never came in to check on her, and Harriet really hadn't expected her to do so. She had heard her aunt return hours ago, the door slamming shut behind her when she did, but Petunia either didn't want to see her niece or just didn't care. Instead, Harriet listened mindlessly to the evening news floating into her room from downstairs. Petunia was going about her day as if everything was completely normal.

As if she hadn't just taken away one of the only possessions Harriet had that used to belong to her mother.

She wasn't sure how much time had gone by when she finally heard the tapping of a beak on her bedroom window. She almost thought she was dreaming, sitting up slowly and blinking a few times at the little owl fluttering outside. She even rubbed her eyes, still stinging with tears, to be sure she wasn't seeing things.

But she wasn't.

Pig was outside her window, hooting frantically to be let in.

"Pig!" she called, throwing open her bedroom window with such force that she nearly took out the little owl. "Oh, Pig! I'm so glad to see you!"

The tiny owl flew in quickly, bumping against her desk chair in the process and crashing onto the floor. Harry felt badly for him, but it was also lucky for her. It slowed him down and allowed her to get the note attached to his leg off in a rush before he could right himself up again. She didn't have the strength nor the mobility at the moment to chase him around the room for twenty more minutes.

Harry recognized Ron's sloppy handwriting scrawled across the envelope, and nearly clutched the letter to her chest in relief before ripping it open. It had been so long since she heard from her best mate, and she didn't realize how much she missed him. Perhaps he knew what was going on with George as well, and could provide her with some comfort.

Harry,

I'm so sorry, mate. I know it's been several days since I've written to you. Hopefully you're not going mad with the muggles. I heard that you'll probably get to come to the Burrow soon, so hopefully that will cheer you up a bit, yeah?

Anyway, the whole point of this letter is to let you know not to worry about George. I didn't know this, because no one bothers to tell me anything, but apparently he's been Ordered to keep an eye on you for the summer while you have to stay with the muggles. At least that's what mum told me. They didn't want to leave you totally alone and without someone with a wand, apparently. Sort of like your personal guard, I guess. Your own idiot knight.

Which would be pretty cool if it weren't George.

I bet you're likely going mad by now, and he's driven you up the wall.

Anyway, George got held up on another job that was taking longer than they originally thought, but should be back soon.

He may even have returned before you get this letter, but mum wanted me to write you so you wouldn't have to worry.

Can't wait to hear about your summer with him. Merlin, I can't imagine what you must have been going through.

Hopefully we'll get to see each other soon!

Ron

Harry blinked down at the letter. She read it over once more, then twice, before turning it over to see if there was a joke on the back of it. She half expected the words just kidding to be scrawled across the back, but there was nothing of the sort.

George wasn't…

He wouldn't…

He told her specifically he wasn't here for the Order that day by the pool when she had foolishly jumped in. He claimed his being here had nothing to do with them, that he was here on his own accord. He had just wanted to see her. To check up on her. To know how she was doing. To make sure that she was okay.

But Ron wouldn't lie to her. In all their years as mates, Ron had never lied to her before.

He had no reason to.

So that meant that George…

"He's been lying to me," she whispered to herself.

There was a loud crack behind her, and Harriet shrieked, tumbling backwards onto the floor. She groaned, her tailbone smarting from the fall, but when she looked up, that was the least of her worries.

George was back, standing over top of her and grinning. He looked just as he had when he left, except now there was a suspicious bruise across his right cheek as if he had gotten into some sort of fight. He likely had, she told herself.

Her hand tightened against the bit of parchment she was still clutching, and she felt her blood begin to boil.

"Merlin, I've missed you," he said, taking her in. He took a step towards her, his hand outstretched to help her up, but then his eyes drifted towards her ankle at the very last second. He stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze turning murderous. "What's happened to you?"

"Where have you been?" she asked, ignoring him. She struggled to stand, unwilling to accept his help. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been over you?"

"Harriet, I'm - I'm sorry," he started, looking alarmed and taken back at her fury. "I had no way of contacting you where I was. I wanted to get back sooner, but I couldn't."

"Sorry? You're sorry," Harry repeated, making the word sound shrill when she said it. She felt as if she were going mad. "Which bit are you sorry for? The bit where you left me for nearly two days without any sort of word over where you were, or the bit where you lied to me?"

"What are you talking -"

"Ron wrote me, George," Harriet spat, shaking the letter in his face. He snatched it from her, his eyes darting over it wildly as she continued raging. "He wrote to me to let me know not to worry about you. That you were on another mission for the Order! That - that this whole time that you've been staying with me you've been on a mission from the Order! The only reason you were at my house was because of them! You lied to me!"

"Harriet, no. It's not - it's not like that," he tried to explain, taking a step closer to her, but she turned from him. Storming about as angrily as she could with a hurt ankle. "It was offered as a mission, sure. That's how it started out, but I was the one who asked to go. I wanted to go to see you. To check on you. I didn't lie about that."

"You told me that this had nothing to do with them!"

"I didn't think you would willingly let me stay if I told you that it did! And I - I wanted to stay with you! I wanted to make sure that you were okay!"

Harry groaned, tangling her hands in her hair in desperation.

"Have you been reporting back to them this whole time? Giving them updates on my mental health?" She paused for a moment, whirling back around at him. "Did you tell them we had sex?"

"No, no! I wouldn't do that!" George protested when she looked like she didn't believe him. "I would never do that to you. To us."

"There is no us," she hissed, fists clenched. "There never was! This was all just a lie! You used this as an excuse to get close to me! You used me!"

"This wasn't a lie! I wasn't lying about my feelings for you! I meant everything I said!"

"Well, you weren't honest with me about anything else! You weren't truthful about the fact that you were here on your own accord! I can't believe I fell for it too. You've never come to see me. Never gone out of your way to visit me during the summer. Why now? Why would you care now of all times?"

George took a step closer to her, and Harriet backed away. "Harriet, please. You're being unreasonable. I know that this looks bad, and I wasn't entirely honest with you about everything, but I wasn't doing it to deceive you. To pull one over on you. I was doing it so I could protect you."

Harriet let out of a laugh that sound mad even to her own ears. She was on the verge of a mental breakdown, and she was certain George could see her crossing over into insanity.

"Do you know how many times I've heard that? How many times have I been kept in the dark to 'protect me?' I never expected this from you, though. I don't deserve this from you! I deserve better from you."

"Harriet - "

"No, I want you to leave," she said, her voice low. His eyes widened in fear. "I want you gone. I don't care what you have to tell them. I don't care if you don't tell them anything at all. I don't want you here. I don't need you here. I was fine on my own before you showed up, I'll be fine with you gone."

"Harriet, please. I just can't - I just can't leave."

"Why not?" Harriet spat at him. "You've been gone for two days now. I've been on my own for two days, and do you know what's happened to me since you've left? My uncle ended up hurting me in his anger, and my aunt found my mother's books and gave them away! I've lost everything. Everything! Where were you for all of that? You were supposed to protect me, weren't you? You were ordered to protect me. What was so important that you had to leave?"

The fear in George's eyes gave way to fury, and Harry watched the shift and forced herself not to wither underneath it.

"What do you mean your uncle hurt you? Did he do that to your ankle?"

Harry shook her head. "It doesn't matter. You don't get to know things about me anymore, because you and I are done. Whatever this is or was...it's over. Your mission is over. I'm releasing you from it."

"Harriet, no! Please, I can't just leave you here with them. Not after what you've just told me!"

"I don't care. I don't want you here. Someone else can come stay with me, or whatever, but not you. I want you out."

Harriet sunk down on the bed, exhaustion settling in from the past few days. She couldn't look at George. She couldn't stand the sight of him. Not even when he knelt down in front of her, carefully avoiding her injured ankle as he took her hands in his.

"Harry, you have to know that everything that happened between us these past few days was real. I love you. I always have. Please don't end this because I messed up," he pleaded, his voice cracking. His forehead rested against their clasped hands. "Please. I'll do anything to make it up to you. Anything."

Harry scrunched her eyes tightly until she saw tiny little floaters in the darkness. She couldn't deal with this right now. It was too much. Too big. She couldn't even begin to process it.

He had hurt her, and that felt bigger than anything else that had happened between them over the past few days.

"I can't," she said, her voice betraying her and shaking slightly. "I can't deal with this right now. Please, please just go. If you'll really do anything for me, then do that."

Harriet kept her eyes tightly shut, but it didn't stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks. She felt George's hand reach up to cup her face, his thumb brushing a stray tear away. She could tell from the wetness on her knees that she wasn't the only one crying.

"I love you," he told her. "Please, if you don't believe anything else, believe that. I love you so much."

"Please just go," she said. She sounded like a child. "Please...it hurts too much."

George stood, squeezing her hands as he did so, and Harriet tried not to flinch away as he kissed her scar on her forehead.

And then there was a crack and her hands dropped back down into her lap.

George was gone.

Once again, Harriet was alone.

On the next chapter: Someone visits Harry from the Weasley family, but it's the wrong boy.