Chapter 6

There was a ghost haunting the burrow. A distant trace of a seventeen year old boy once known as Harry Potter. He walked the property a semblance of what once was. This particular ghost wasn't evil, he wasn't scary. No this ghost was broken, but he wasn't really a ghost. He was still human, still breathing and much to his dismay still living.

It was past 2am and a cloudy night, not a single star could be seen in the sky. Harry hadn't left the comfort of the willow for hours. The shame and rage he had felt dissolved into exhaustion and he shivered as the wind blew behind him his thin dress shirt shielding next to nothing. He sat on his back against the tree his arms resting on his knees feet sprawled out in front of him. He sighed deeply and pulled his legs to his chest and buried his head in his hands as he let the night air consume him as the trembling began again.

"Ron we have to do something!" Hermione shouted for the hundredth time as she paced anxiously back in forth

Ron leaned his head against his bed frame and pulled at his hair in frustration. "And what do you suppose that is?"

Hermione whirled around and continued to rant, "I don't know, but we have to do something! How are you so cavalier about this?"

Ron glared at her, hurt evident on his face, "When did I ever say I didn't care?"

"I didn't say that!" Hermione snapped back, "but you seem totally okay with the fact that your best friend is missing!"

"He's not missing!" Ron raised his voice for the first time, "and when did I say I was okay with it! He's at the bloody tree!"

"What tree?"

"The willow tree!"

"In the yard?"

"What other bloody tree!" Ron spat out in exasperation.

"And you're telling me this now!" Hermione stared at her boyfriend menacingly tears forming in her eyes. "Why are we sitting here Ronald? We should be helping Harry-"

"I don't know how to help him!" Ron's voice broke as he continued, "It's like talking to a wall! I've never seen anybody so gone! So don't accuse me of not caring! If anything I care too much!"

"Ron I…" Hermione's face fell.

"Let me finish! It bloody kills me to see him like this, but I haven't the slightest clue as how to help him!"

Hermione took slow steps forward and sank onto the bed next to his exasperated figure. "I'm sorry," she mumbled softly burying her head in his shoulder. "I just don't know how to help him either. I just wish he would let us in."

"Me too." Ron swallowed dryly taking in the sweet smell of Hermione's hair. "I'd say let him come to us, as hard as it is he always seems so tense when anybody offers him some sort of comfort."

Hermione nodded slowly into Ron's chest. She hadn't told him about the night in the kitchen when Harry had broken down in her arms. She didn't want to explain it and worry Ron further about his best friend. She also wanted to keep the moment a secret as it seems words couldn't do it justice in her mind.

She pulled her chin up and stared into Ron's kind boyish eyes. He had grown up so much in the last year. From somebody who had once had the "emotional range of a tea spoon" into one of the most selfless, loving people she had ever met. She smiled at him and he reached up wiping a tear from her cheek. She leaned into his touch and Ron leaned forward meeting her lips in a deep and tender kiss.

Harry had given up the prospect of dozing off outside and with a great difficulty he pulled himself up clinging to the base of the tree. He shuddered, his legs like molasses as he began the trek back to the burrow. It seemed like hours when in reality it was minutes. He sloppily kicked off his dress shoes at the front door and picked them up as he headed inside. He closed the door with a creak and silently made his way up to the bathroom.

The reflection that stared back at Harry was hardly recognizable. His hair was matted and dirt caked his face. His shirt was stained with blood and sweat, and his tie hung loosely around his collar. It was his eyes that were most unfamiliar. They were bloodshot and deep bags had settled beneath them, his skin gaunt and lifeless.

He slowly undressed having minimal use of his swollen hands. He stepped into the hot stream of water and stood there for several minutes relishing the feel against his chest and back. Eventually he toweled off and silently made his way to Ron's room.

He nudged the door open as slowly and discretely as possible. Sliding through the frame he fumbled around and found a pair of sweats. He pulled them on and dropped his towel not concerned where it would end up. He crawled peacefully onto his mattress and nearly moaned when his face found the pillow.

He lay awake staring into nothing his steady breathing rising and falling with his chest.

"Harry?" a shy voice remarked from a few feet away and his heart nearly pounded out of his chest. It wasn't Ron.

"Hermione?" Harry responded faintly, "what are you doing here?" He was about to question further, but the conclusion hit him hard and his eyes burned. "Sorry. I didn't realize that you were… I can go into Ginny's room…" he remarked sounding a little more defeated than he meant.

"No, no," Hermione whispered quickly. "I mean we were just sleeping." He could feel her blush from across the room. "Please stay." Hermione pleaded softly.

Harry melted at the sound of her voice asking him to stay as he always did and he turned his head to the side away from her voice. "Why?" he asked accusingly.

"So I know you are safe," she gently responded.

A single tear slid down his cheek and he let it fall into the soft cotton of his pillow case. Just for a moment it was the two of them alone in the tent again. Harry lying above Hermione in the bunk as he listened to her breathing late into the night. Reality hit him as it always did though as Ron let out muted grunt. In reality it had never been the two of them. In reality Harry was lying in a cot while his two best friends were in a bed together. Reality was Hermione and Ron were falling in love while Harry watched from the sidelines. That night a harsh truth set in for Harry. He had known it for a while now, but didn't dare admit it to anybody, but himself. At some point in time Harry Potter had fallen dangerously in love with Hermione Granger.