Evans spun her pen and leaned into her seat, "Mr Potter, I'm sure that in all your years, you were raised to consider the brain in its function. It's biological capabilities."

Harry watched her through heavy eyes. Each breath he took seemed heavier and deeper than the one before. His fingers tapped to a beat on his knee and his hair swung over his nose, partially concealing the dark shadows that formed under his eyes.

Harry's gaze bounced from Ron to Hermione. The air around him became painfully thin and he reached to scratch at the icy hands that clawed inside his throat. All at once, a blazing heat swept over him, through his damp clothes and burned his insides.

"But you see, the mind, is so much more than that. It has profound abilities. I think an interesting way to look at the brain would be to think of it as a soda bottle," Evans continued, "Say we shake it up a bit, we let the pressure build up inside. And then-"

There was an annoying beat in his chest and ears. It was hard and fast and would not stop. He took a step back, swallowed, and realised that his mouth was sorely dry. His tongue glued itself to the roof of his mouth while something dark and heavy climbed over his shoulder, it weighed him with an overwhelming sense of dread.

"-We slowly open the cap. This lets some of that pressure release a little at a time and makes opening the bottle a little more manageable, right?"

"I suppose," He'd responded with a shrug. He leaned his head over the couch and silently begged for the thunderous ache in his head to stop.

"Harry?" He was certain he heard from somewhere but couldn't see through his narrowed vision and the impossible way the room spun. His eyes bounced as though trying to place his surroundings, but everything was either too close or too far. He heard his name in the distance, and almost vomited.

"On the other hand, lets say we shake this proverbial soda bottle and we build up this pressure, and then we all too suddenly open the bottle." She stopped spinning her pen, "It'll explode, wont it?"

Harry disapparated.

And when he opened his eyes he was at Godricks Hollow. Tombstones and crosses littered the ground around him. He tried to breathe.

"Mr Potter, we're here to gradually open up the bottle in your mind, to help you turn the valve. But, when you close yourself off this way…" she spoke softly.

He disapparated.

And when he opened his eyes, he was standing on a porch with a number '4' at the door. He begged his lungs to expand.

Again, he disapparated.

"I begin to worry that you might explode."

When he opened his eyes, he was some place dark. The overbearing urge to flee had not left him, but the ache of his organs from repeated stretching warned him not to do it again. He collapsed, suddenly overwhelmed by his own exhaustion. It was raining again, or was it always raining? His head splashed into a puddle as rain pummelled from above.

Too weak to stand, too weak to think. He stretched a hand, to what, he didn't know. In the end, muddy water ran through his fingers.

He forced himself onto his back and a blurry flash of lightning caught his eye. The icy downpour slapped painfully against his skin, like a thousand bands snapping against flesh. The water that fell onto his face ran into his nose and hindered his already haggard breaths.

He wanted to stand. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry.

Something soft fell against his forehead. It was cold, wet, and soft. He didn't care. He let it stay where it was. Eventually, the downpour forced the object to roll down his head and rested in the space between his cheek and shoulder.

He willed his hand to reach for the item and brought it to his face. Though it was too dark to see, his hands traced along its lines. It had hard, thorny curves and thin ends.

A flash of lighting illuminated them and he saw it as bright as day.

A wilted flower bouquet.

And Harry knew where he was. He let the bouquet fall to his chest. His hands trembled and throat caught. He slowly, painfully turned on his side and hugged it tightly as they fell into darkness again. His body trembled violently as pained sobs raked through him.

"I'm sorry," he heard someone with his voice chant.

…

"Maybe we should continue tomorrow?" Ron suggested with a yawn and a scratch of his chin. "I'm tired."

"We need to get it done tonight," Harry grumbled irritably and navigated around muggles while under his invisibility spell. It was the twelfth time his ginger haired companion mentioned taking a break and he was nearing his limit. He was just as exhausted as Ron, if not more so, but he wasn't moaning about it. He accidentally elbowed a man, who in turn shoved and cursed at another man nearest to him. Harry continued walking as both men began to squabble behind them.

He just wanted to get home, take a shower and get some well deserved sleep. Though, he doubted he would get to rest much. Ginny had mentioned that when he got back, they would have to 'talk'. Another impending breakup, he presumed. Yet another thing that irritated him over and above his exhaustion.

He returned his attention to work, they had been up all night tracking Kite and had pinned his recent movement to the quiet Hampstead Gardens Suburb. Ron yawned obnoxiously loudly, and again suggested that they at least take a break and get something to eat. Harry prepared to dismiss his suggestion with fervent indignation when, from the corner of his eyes, pale white hair caught his attention.

"Kite." Harry spoke, and as though he'd heard them from the distance, Kite's body prickled. His head snapped up and bounced around his surroundings. The invisibility spell had taken that moment to wear off and Kite made eye contact with them.

'Shit'

Kite sprung like a deer.

Harry slapped a hand on Ron's chest.

"We need to contain him before he apparates!"

Ron extended his wand and a wide barrier formed encompassing four streets. Muggles responded with aggravated grunts as they felt a sudden and heavy gust of wind.

"You go, I'll keep this going for as long as I can." Ron told him. Harry nodded and chased after Kite.

Harry breezed through the unsuspecting crowd in pursuit of Kite. He wanted- needed to wrap it up as quickly as possible. To place one more dark wizard in Azkaban, go home, fill in paperwork, and begin his search for the next. Rinse and repeat.

He held his breath as his feet slapped the concrete. Kite looked over his shoulder and made a sharp turn into an alleyway. Harry pushed through a couple, who cursed at him. He ignored them as he squeezed through a crowd.

Harry thought he caught a brief flash of green, though, he was certain he heard the definite sound of an infantile scream.

He almost slipped as he rounded the corner, when he righted himself, he grounded to an instant halt.

On the ground laid a body, male. Motionless. James. He shook the image from his mind. Beside the man, an infant screamed. It was a sharp, horrible cry that demanded attention. When Harry's gaze fell onto Kite, he held a woman by the neck. He had a frantic look in his eye and his wand bounced between Harry and trembled inches from the woman's temple.

"Maximillian," Harry began cautiously. The child continued to wail from the ground. The woman was shaking terribly, her eyes were screwed shut. "Put your wand away,"

The woman reached a tentative hand to the arm around her neck and began to speak.

"Shut up!" his hold on the woman tightened and she yelped through tears. The child's scream grew impossibly shrill. Harry winced at the sound. Kite startled and swung his wand in the direction of the infant. A bright green light jetted from it. And they were thrust into instant silence.

"No!" Harry aimed his wand at Kite, but when Kite snapped his wand at the woman's temple again, Harry stilled. Harry felt his jaw lock, his throat closed and heart raced in his ears. How could a situation have gotten this bad?

"I'm not going to Azkaban," Kite muttered to no one. The woman finally opened her eyes. Tears streamed freely from them, but when she looked to her feet to find the body of her husband and child, a strangled sob erupted from her. It was quickly silenced by Kite's rough hands.

Her gaze sought Harry, and when she found him, she locked onto his green eyes with blood shot eyes. Fear and helplessness etched in her features. Her lips moved soundlessly. 'Please, help me.'

He nodded discretely. He needed to buy some time, Ron would notice if he wasn't back and either send for backup or come himself.

"Fine," Harry focussed on Kite, he tried to keep his voice levelled, "You're not going to Azkaban. I'll let you go. Just- just release the woman." His eyes bounced from the woman then back to Kite. Kite looked down at Harry's wand and scowled.

"Give your wand to me, and undo your little confinement trick, Potter." He licked his lips and waved his wand dangerously close to the woman's eyes.

"I'll need my wand to do that, Kite." Harry narrowed his eyes on the raving lunatic. Kite responded by generating a green glow at the tip of his wand aimed at the woman's temple.

"Fine!" Harry tentatively took two steps forward, bridging the gap between them. He tried to ignore the bodies on the ground. Instead, he carefully watched the woman, whose body shook terribly. He did his best to give her a reassuring look, to somehow signal to her that everything would be fine, that he'd protect her.

He clenched his wand. It was a dangerous move, but he trusted that at this point Kite wanted to guarantee his own freedom far more than he wanted to kill.

"Here," Harry extended his wand towards the man. If he wanted it, he'd have to let go of the woman to get it. "Let's exchange."

It was a gamble, but Harry betted that his own reflexes were faster than Kite's. He would grab the woman to him and in the brief space in time, disarm Kite and arrest him.

Kite began to chuckle, but there was no joy in his laughter. His shrugged and tongue flicked across his lips, "Sure, Potter. Why not?"

Kite roughly shoved the woman into Harry's arms. She screamed when she landed face first into his chest and they stumbled. Harry tried to regain his standing against the force of her body. Her knees buckled under her as she clenched fistfuls of his shirt. He tried to hook his arms under her to support her weight.

She raised her head to look up to him. Again, their eyes locked. There was something in her gaze- something that haunted him. Relief? Resignation? He couldn't place it. Her eyes swelled with new tears, she took a deep breath and parted her lips.

A bright green light struck her back.

Harry watched as her words caught in her throat. Her eyes stayed on him. All at once, her brows furrowed, then relaxed. He watched as the light dimmed from her eyes. Her grip on his shirt relaxed and when her final tears fell from her eyes, she collapsed into a lifeless pile at his feet.

'Please, help me.'

Harry felt his heart rip. His wand fell from his hand and danced on the concrete. How could things have gone so wrong? His eyes burned furiously and his throat bobbed.

On a late evening on the thirty first of October 1981, two young parents were murdered in their home. It was a senseless crime that altered the life of the only survivor of the attack. Harry, being that survivor, had often fantasised about the 'what ifs'. What if Peter hadn't been their secret keeper? What if they had been better prepared? What if they had escaped in time? What if someone had thwarted Voldemort beforehand?

Harry felt his fist clench and unclench.

Again, he was in the midst of another senseless crime. Again, he pondered the 'what ifs'. What if he hadn't been so eager to catch Kite, would they still be alive? What if he had taken Ron on the offer to postpone the search? What if he hadn't been so incompetent?

But more than that, what if Kite hadn't killed them?

His eyes snapped towards Kite who threw his head back in a fitful of laughter, he raised his wand again. This time, his laughter was joyous, raucous, uncontrollable and so full of mirth.

Something trembled at his side.

Harry leapt the distance between them and landed a jaw shattering punch across Kites chin. The man landed on the ground with a strangled gasp. Harry heard Kite's wand fall somewhere, Harry pulled him up by his shirt. Kite held an annoyingly bewildered expression. His jaw had instantly swollen and his grey eyes were wide and unfocused.

Harry pulled back his fist and punched him in the eye. He felt something crack, whether it was his fist or Kite's face, he didn't care. By that point, he didn't care about anything.

No, he cared about one thing: he wanted to hurt Kite, in every way he could.

He grabbed Kite again and punched him in the mouth. Kite spat a mouthful of blood and hard white bits.

How could things have gone so wrong? They didn't deserve to die!

None of them did!

When Kite looked up at Harry with his one unswollen eye, he smiled.

It was a patronising, self satisfied smile that mocked him. Even with cracked teeth, he still managed to smile. In the back of his mind, he heard Voldemort's laugh.

Harry smashed the man's face into a wall. Again and again. Until a crack in the wall formed.

When he released the man's bloodied locks, Kite fell to the ground and gurgled. Harry wiped his bloody hand across his lip to remove the blood smear from his split lip. He sniffed and his eyes fell on his wand.

He stumbled and picked it up.

In the end, he hadn't protected anyone. That's the problem with the wizarding world, for all the helpful tricks and spells and potions, it's just so much easier to hurt people. Especially the most innocent. His eyes fell on the family that laid motionless.

He'd make it right.

For them, at least.

He approached Kite, lifted his head by his hair and crouched down to his position. Kite looked up to him, his grey eye bloodshot. Harry stared emptily at the man's broken features. His nose and mouth leaked deep red.

Harry pointed his wand and Kite smiled a crooked bloody smile.

'Can you do it, Potter?' Voldemort dared through the reflection in Kite's eyes, blood ran down his chin and dripped casually.

Could he do it? Could he kill someone? He'd tried to before, but even in the face of his godfathers murderer, he'd lacked the conviction to do it. But now, he wasn't a fifteen year old. He wasn't a child. He was a man, for all that was good and bad about it. He knew the world for what it was, cruel and unfair.

And in a world that was cruel and unfair, he was ripe with conviction.

His wand developed a bright green glow at the tip.

Kite's smile faltered.

Harry felt the air knock out of him and he hit the ground hard and fast. His head slammed against concrete and he coughed on impact. His wand spun from his hand and was kicked away from him. In his daze, he fought desperately against the arms pinning him to ground.

"Harry! It's me, Ron!" Ron shoved him hard and Harry snapped awake. He breathed as though he'd finally surfaced for air.

He felt as though he'd finally woken from a dream. Dazed, confused and exhausted. Harry's ears rung a piercing tune as Ron barked out orders, he kept his arms on Harry while the others ran around them. They lifted an unconscious Maximillian to his feet and dragged him away.

His body fought against Ron, desperate for the white haired bastard. He wasn't finished! He ground his teeth while he watched Kite disappear.

"Get off me," Harry spoke and Ron flinched. He hated the way he sounded, more than that, he hated the way he felt. Like he'd lived a thousand lives, and each one had been pure misery. Ron pulled him to his feet, and when he was steady Harry shrugged his hand off. He picked his wand and walked through the aurors who'd arrived to assist.

He stopped when he reached the woman. She laid on her side and her hand outstretched. The way she looked at him the moment before her death played in his mind. He could still feel the desperation in her fists as she clung to his chest.

Lily. In the woman he saw pale green eyes and fiery red hair that spilled like blood splatter on the concrete. He saw a possibility that could have very well been his own and he'd let it happen.

The world became a dizzying place and he blinked away the ache that formed at his temple. He wiped his nose on the back of his broken hand. He'd hoped to wipe the memory from his mind, instead he smeared the metallic scent of blood onto himself, and it stayed with him every day since.

At Kite's trial, Harry testified mechanically. He answered every question with little expression. Though his eyes never left Kite, whose face was still swollen, but his teeth were fixed.

Kite watched him too. This time, he would not smile.

When Kite was sentenced, he walked around the podium, with his head held high and a malicious scowl on his face. He struggled against the chains at his wrist and ankle. When they made eye contact, Kite seemed to darken. His nose flared and eyes twitched.

Kite stopped in front of him, "Mark my words, Potter, I'll be sure to kill you." he spoke deeply before being shoved out.

Harry took a three month leave of absence.

And then, he resigned.

…

An icy wind raked through him. It made the rain that smacked him that much sharper. He saw her in his mind. Her memory played more vividly in his mind than it had ever been before. The clouds he'd built around the memory had dispersed. He'd allowed himself to forget parts of what happened, he'd allowed his mind to reshape the happenings that day. How could he?

'Please, help me.'

He clenched the wilted bouquet and screwed his eyes against the sharp headache that burdened him. "I'm sorry,"

He heard his name and then felt a sharp splash. He felt something warm against his cheek and the rain no longer whipped him.

He shivered against the bitter cold. When he'd had lived with the Dursleys, and his room had been generously located under the staircase, he'd read, in one of the books which Dudley rarely used, that one of the symptoms of severe hypothermia was hallucinations. As a child, he'd hoped that if he froze, perhaps just before dying, he could see his parents, just once.

"Harry!" he was shook twice over. "Harry?!"

Frankly, if he was going to hallucinate, he'd hoped it would be his parents, his godfather, Remus, or someone he missed.

Not "Hermione…?" his voice was broken.

She used whatever strength she had and propped him upright and against the wall. He shifted against the dent behind him. Her hands were warm against his face as she searched for his eyes. Through his closed lids he could see a bright light and frowned.

"You're freezing," she whispered with concern. He opened his eyes and true enough, her wand was shining brightly and directed towards his face. Clearly, he was not hallucinating. He squinted, when had he lost his glasses?

"Go away," he told her and rested his head against the wall. "Just- just leave me alone."

"Don't be ridiculous. How long have you been here?" She reached for his arm and pulled, "Harry you need-"

Something built inside him, it was fiery and hot and threatened to explode. He whipped his arm from her touch, "I'm tired of BEING NEEDED-!" He snapped, startling Hermione.

He was suddenly overcome by a sea of uncontrollable emotions and though he tried to steel himself, a dam had broken within him and it spilled over. It was confusing, dizzying, but most of all, it was aggravating.

"Someone, somewhere always needs me. I'm tired of being there for everyone, I'm tired of consoling everyone. I want to be left ALONE!."

A bolt of lightning and rumble of thunder in the distance drowned his next words, "Why can't anyone understand that?"

Hermione watched him carefully as though she were searching for something. Her lips were parted in shock and her eyes wide. Whatever had shielded them from the downpour disappeared.

She blinked repeatedly as the rain beat her lashes.

She raised her brows with a pained look.

"Because that's not what you want," her voice cracked. She let the rain wash over her as she got to his level. Her brown eyes met his.

"You want to hide in your own misery. You want to punish yourself," she reached to touch him and then stopped. "You want to pretend that there aren't people who care about you. When you know there are, you know we do. You know I do."

He looked away.

"If you don't want to be needed, that's fine," She swallowed, her voice was barely a whisper, "Lean on me then. If you're falling apart- If you're tired of being strong, that's fine. Trust me to hold you together."

She reached to touched him, her hand was tentative. Her index finger slowly shifted his hair above his brow. Her finger was cold and wet against his skin as she found what she sought. Her finger traced his lightning bolt shaped scar.

"Harry, we all have scars,"

Her hair clung to her skin. Her bottom lip trembled and she swallowed. She reached for her coat buttons, stopped, and then began unbuttoning. She pulled off her drenched coat and rolled her sleeve to the elbow where 'Mudblood' had been etched into her flesh. Though it had been years, her scar still looked raw and new, as though it had only done been yesterday.

"We're all coping as best we can…" she said and extended her scarred arm, she opened her hand to him. He watched as the rain pelted her skin.

Evans smiled softly to him, "Mr Potter, sharing your experiences, I find, helps to feel like you're not entirely on your own."

Harry reached for her. When their hands touched, Hermione held tightly to him and helped him to his feet. She picked something off the ground and put it in her pocket. She then drew his arm over her shoulder and allowed him to lean his weight against her. She seemed to buckle under his weight.

"I'm going to apparate, okay?"

He said nothing.

In the blink of an eye, they were in her home. She ushered him to the bathroom, where she took off his dirty coat and tossed it into a pile on the floor. Harry stared unseeingly at the wall in front of him as she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it from him. His own shadow seemed to mock him. Her fingers were warm against his icy skin. She tossed the shirt into the pile.

He caught her hand as she reached for him again.

"I can do the rest," his voice was hoarse. Hermione pulled from him with eyes downcast and approached the door. She seemed to waver as she opened it, then turned and cast a troubled look at him.

"I won't leave."He reassured her without looking back.

"I'll leave a change of clothes at the door," she whispered and gently shut the door behind her.

Harry ran cold water over himself, clothes and all. Specks of dirt fell from his hair, his face and pants, swirled and disappeared into the drain. He grit his teeth and clenched the wall.

When he reappeared downstairs, his steps were heavy and Hermione looked up from her letter. She balanced her palms over the kitchen counter. Her wet hair had been pulled into a ponytail.

"I told Ron that you were fine, that you just need a little quiet," she said carefully.

Harry nodded wordlessly. The towel over his head fell to his shoulder.

He approached her couch and sank into it. They settled into an uncomfortable silence while the fireplace popped. He inhaled the familiarly unfamiliar sweet scent that hung in the air.

Hermione soon began to do what she always did when she didn't know what to do: she paced aimlessly, though she winced now and again.

He shut his eyes.

"Hermione,"

Her shuffling ceased. He sighed heavily and patted the spot beside him. She seemed to deliberate and then approached quietly and sank slowly into the seat then settled beside him. She played with her fingers and rolled her lips.

She took a deep breath, alerting Harry that she intended to speak (and probably wind up babbling) and so he cut her off.

"Thank you," he said and turned to her with a firm nod.

She searched his eyes and then reached into her chest pocket. She pulled out his glasses, pushed aside his wet hair with her index finger and settled them over his eyes. His vision adjusted quickly to the crisp clarity around him.

He settled on her warm smile, the reflection of the fire in her eyes and felt his eyes burn. She rested her head against his shoulder.

It was hours before either one of them fell asleep.

Not gonna lie, I sat on this chapter for about a week after I had someone pm me to let me know they felt my writing is a little too wordy. I like to improve my writing, so I suppose my question to you guys is, do any of you feel the same? Am I difficult to follow? Do you think I should reel myself back in a bit?

Thanks for reading, cheers!