Also, I completely rewrote chapter 4, although it was ready, because I ended up writing chapter 3 differently from what I had originally planned… So it will take me a little longer to get that one ready…
Before I forget, thanks to Katy for fixing my mistakes. ^^.
Chapter 3: Ron's POVMany years have passed since I last saw Harry. Too many if you ask me. I have lost my best friend to time. We started to drift apart, our trio. He became closer to himself, he wanted to be left alone and…I can't even say when it started!! This is what makes me truly furious! I can't even remember something important as that… I must have been a horrible friend, if he couldn't confine in me…
The wind blows strongly through the streets, whirling up the snow against my face, the cold brushing me brusque as though trying to push me away, insisting I leave. The same way Harry had always tried to make me leave whenever I tried to force him to open up to me. To trust me enough again… But I know that what happened between us can never be forgotten and I dare not confess that it might have been my fault that the others are suffering for my stupidity, for his disappearance. I am still trying to convince myself that it might not have been me who was the cause, but only the one who pushed him over the edge at the end.
I have not even told Hermione.
I keep this secret hidden in my most feared memories, because it pains me horribly every time I remember. I don't think I can ever tell anyone, especially my wife, of the terrible things I said to the person I was supposedly best friends with. I know I hurt him deeply. It irritates me that I did not think back then that my words would harm him… Would make him turn away. Damn it! I don't know how often in the past I have though about that day I met him when he came trembling out of the staff room on his way back to his rooms. That fateful day Snape had died.
A few weeks earlier Harry and I had had a big fight. I was enraged with him, I hated the fact that he was wallowing in self-pity. I mean, since the end of the war, something had changed in him, I knew it better than Hermione, knew it for fact better than anyone else. Something happened to Harry during the last battle and it followed him even afterwards. I could see it in his face. He and I had shared rooms for so long, that I could read his features even if he tried hard to deceive us. For many years I watched him change from the joyful child he was at eleven to become the distant and somehow cold man. I was so sick of it, of his attitude. It was his way of dream-walking through life as though nothing really matter anymore. And it angered me that the others were not willing to change it. They were letting him get away with it. And so I told him… I screamed at him furiously. I behaved like a child who had been denied his wishes. Like a spoiled brat. And he told me so. In a deliberately cutting and sarcastic manner that just boiled my temper up more. I don't want to recall the words I used, I don't want to bring back the memories of his hurt eyes. But most of all I don't want to see the suffering in my mind that he showed me when I joked about Snape's death.
I shake my head, bringing my thoughts to the present, and pass a hand trough my hair as I walk into the bookstore for information on my lost friend. I slid through the shop's shelves aimlessly, here and there my eyes wandering over a familiar title, forcing myself to forget the past. I have more important things to do right now. I assured Hermione I would do my best to find a clue on Harry since she remained behind with Remus. It seems to me that Remus didn't get much sleep last night, but that is usually the case when the Full Moon is approaching.
I let my gaze go up taking a step back to have a better view on the selection on the shelves as I stumble over someone. I hear books hitting the ground behind me and I spin around alarmed. A woman kneels on the ground, books laying open around her. I apologize and help her back to her feet.
"Thank you." She says as she leans down to pick the books from the ground.
Apologizing again for my behavior I help her gather her things together and carry it on to the counter. We put the books on the table and she smiled charmingly at me. I freeze staring at her, but she seems oblivious to this as her attention focuses on the books. I watch her absently pass a hand through her shoulder-length black hair and move it behind her ear and the frame of her glasses, but it refuses to stay there. It gives her a wilder appearance than what I am used to seeing.
After a while she must have noticed that I had not moved because she turns back to me. She blinks, surprised with her green eyes narrowed slightly, her expression unreadable now.
"May I help you?" she asks, but I cannot bring myself to give a reasonable let alone comprehensible reply. Moments later I realize that I'm gaping. It takes me a while to analyze why and then it hits me like the power of lightning striking down a tree. It is the unbelievable resemblance with Harry that I had the impression of recognizing for a few seconds, which is still dazzling my thoughts.
She quirks an eyebrow up at me as she crosses her arms looking rather annoyed. A shudder runs down my spin. I think I'm seeing a ghost or I'm turning lunatic now. How can someone be this similar with Harry and yet invoke creepy school memories of my Potion Master in me?
"Well?" she insists with a scowl on her face.
Somehow I find myself stumbling back in shook against a desk, my hand moving to my mouth. I think I might scream otherwise. I might swoon, or worse yet, die right here without Hermione nearby to revive me again with a spell or something alike. The thought crosses my mind that maybe the stress from work is finally catching up on me and I'm having hallucinations. Or maybe I did die and a mixture of my worst nightmare and best friend is my doomed hell-dimension.
Horrified and unable to order my body to move I gaze as she approaches me, now with a concerned expression marking her features.
"Are you alright, sir?"
I shake my head. I take a deep breath as my lungs complain noticing me that I still need to breath to function. My breathing starts to come in short and quick draughts. Maybe I'm hyperventilating…I can't say for sure at the moment, my brain is about to shut off…
I awake to a gentle touch on my cheek. A hand caressing me, and I know for sure that it is Hermione. Slowly opening my eyes I focus on her warm and loving face.
"How are you feeling, love?" she asks as I see Remus approaching from behind her.
Carefully I try to sit up with her help recalling vaguely the events in the bookstore. I smile encouragingly at my wife to assure her that I am indeed fine, although my subconscious is trying very hard to remind me otherwise. I feel dizzy and nauseated for whatever reasons.
"You collapsed in the bookstore. The owner was nice enough to bring you back here. She told me you suddenly passed out and were very pale as though you had seen some monster." Hermione gazes at me curiously. Sometimes it is just annoying how your wife can read you. But I won't tell her right now what happened, I'm not ready yet. And I believe she understands it for she continues speaking. "She was downstairs waiting to hear if you need a medic. But I told her I could handle it." She turns to Remus who has been straggly quiet since I have awoken. "Also she left a note for you…"
Remus comes towards me sitting down at the end of the bed handing me a small white envelop with a seal of a snake on it. "Here."
My heart starts beating widely in my chest instinctively sensing that this holds the answer to our quest and questions. With sweaty fingers I rip the edge and take a folded piece of paper out. Feeling my blood rushing madly through my veins I take a deep breath opening it to read.
Dear Mr. Weasley,
I hadn't expected to ever meet you, but since you have come this far I believe I shall award you and your companions with a little information. I know why you are here. I have known since you first stepped foot in our small town. Words spread quickly especially if you're looking for Harry Potter. I can assure you that no one in this town will give you an answer to his whereabouts. They all respect him too much to betray his pleading to not let the world know he is here. By now you must wonder why I would go against his wishes. All I can tell you is that I believe that he needs to see his friends and family again, even if you are part of what causes him pain. Please come to the address I have left at the reception desk if you wish to know more.
Sincerely,
M. Snape