Chapter Two
Sadness

"Hi, Harry. Nice to see you too," Cho said with a smile, giving him a kiss on the neck and putting her arms around his shoulders. "What's got you so jumpy lately?"
"Uh, er - - -," Harry managed. Words seemed to be quite hard to string together at the moment.
A thought occurred to him. "How did you find me here? I haven't told anyone about this place. I was even surprised to find Hedwig here."
"Ah, well, see that's the thing. I heard about the game, and went looking for you. I happened to see Hedwig leaving, so I rushed to get my broom, and came here straight away. Speaking of the game - - -"
"I don't want to talk about it. I'm sure that everyone is quite angry with me for missing the game. I'm not even sure how I managed to oversleep," Harry said at once, and very quickly, trying to drop the subject, or at the very least satisfy Cho's curiosity about it.
Much to Harry's relief, Cho accepted this and prodded no further on the matter. Instead she looked to the blank parchment on the table, and the quill in his hand.
"Writing to someone?"
"Yes. A friend sent me a letter, and I've been rather negligent in writing him back. So I was going to do what I should have a few weeks ago, and write him a reply," Harry said, picking up his ink jar, and rolling up the parchment. "It can wait until later though."
Harry got up to return the materials to their proper places, but before he was two steps away, Cho had put her hand back on his shoulder and turned him around. Her face wore an expression of concern.
"Harry, you haven't been yourself at all these past few weeks. Please tell me what's bothering you. When you're not happy, I'm not happy," Cho pleaded. "Please don't tell me you're angry with me for coming here. If you'd prefer I don't come without your permission, I won't. Just tell me what it is."
Harry's insides churned up for the second time that day. She was so kind, and so caring. He was extraordinarily lucky to have someone like her.
"No, Cho. It has nothing to do with you coming here. I don't mind at all if you are here. I've just got a lot on my mind lately," Harry spoke falteringly. "McGonagall has been assigning extra homework, and Flitwick wants us to work on all of these defensive charms; it's just a lot to think about, as well as quidditch. Plus you know how personal this whole conflict with Voldemort is for me."
Cho, unsurprisingly, flinched at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. Everyone did, and Harry had gotten used to it whenever he mentioned his name.
"It's - - -," Harry sighed, "It's a lot of stress."
Cho nodded, and silently hugged him. Harry wanted to just crawl into the corner and vanish. Cho had no idea that's not what was really bothering him. Harry had just lied to her, and every single word that he spoke felt like a little knife piercing him. He cared about Cho so much, how could he tell her something that might hurt her?
They stood there for a very long time, just embracing. Harry felt like a marathon runner, trying to keep the mental stamina of staying right there and not having a nervous breakdown. Cho turned slightly, kissed his chin, and withdrew from him.
"Harry, I'm sorry, but I can't stay. I just wanted to make sure that you felt all right, and that you weren't sick. My Muggle Studies professor is expecting me and a few others to make some kind of an announcement. I'll see you later on this evening, ok?" As Cho smiled at him, Harry could tell she was trying to reassure him. He only wished that it had the effect that she intended. Harry forced himself to smile back before she turned around and left. He stepped to the doorway, and it was a while after she was out of sight that he actually returned to the inside of his hideaway. And it was a long time after that before he was able to stop shaking with silent tears.

* * * * *

Harry quietly crept up the stairs towards the top of Gryffindor tower. So far he had met only a few of his fellow classmates, and received nothing more than a few disapproving glances. Most everyone was at dinner, but Harry felt like he wouldn't be able to eat more than a grain of rice right now.
"Tiddlywinks," Harry muttered to the portrait of the Fat Lady, and it swung silently open. Pushing himself inside, Harry found much to his surprise both Ron and Hermione sitting beside the fire in two of the very large chairs contained within the Gryffindor common room. Neither had seen nor heard him enter for they were far too involved in their conversation to notice. Harry lingered quietly behind them.
"You don't suppose that this has something to do with You-Know-Who, do you? I mean, he's been acting a little out of it - - -," Ron said, almost fearfully.
"Don't be silly, Ron. If it had anything to do with him, or Harry felt as though it did, he would have done at least one of two things. He would have come to us, or gone straight to Dumbledore! I should hope that the things that happened last year woke him up to the fact that when there are problems, he needs to go to the person or people that might have answers." Hermione countered, very quickly.
"You're probably right. I mean, we're his best friends," Ron replied, without complete confidence in his voice.
"What worries me nearly the most is that he hasn't been writing to Snuffles."
Harry nearly started to ask how she knew this, but remembered suddenly they didn't know he was there.
Hermione continued. "Ron, he went so far as to write ME a letter, because Harry hasn't. He's worried sick about Harry. I've of course written Snuffles back, explaining what we at least know. Problem is, Snuffles has no more answers than you or I."
"But why doesn't he even talk to us anymore? I realize that he has Cho now and that's of course important to him, but he doesn't spend THAT much time with Cho. More often than not, he's sitting up in his bed, or he's just plain disappeared to whatever hiding place he has now. I don't understand him anymore Hermione," Ron said, half defensively. Harry was instantly and painfully reminded of the time last year that Ron refused to even speak to him.
Hermione sighed and adjusted herself in the chair. Harry jumped quickly, intending to hide and anticipating that she was getting up. She stayed put however, and Harry eased himself back into his standing position.
"Ron, I - - -," Hermione began to say, but Ron, apparently caught in a rush of emotion, barged onwards.
"We go out of our way to try and talk to him. We do everything we can to help him and make him feel comfortable. I know that he's "The-Boy- Who-Lived", and that the things people do and the way people treat him makes him uncomfortable. But does he ever consider how others feel? I mean, here we are, missing supper, waiting for him to turn up because we're concerned." Ron's voice was slowly rising with each sentence.
Harry felt anger rising within him; anger he knew that he should not feel; anger that he knew would evaporate if he just had a long talk with Ron, but Harry wanted to see just how much Ron wanted to say. So he clenched his fists and continued to stand silently. Hermione tried to say something, but was quickly overrun by Ron once again.
"Friendship runs both ways, Hermione. It's got to work from BOTH ENDS. The three of us have been friends as long as we've known each other. That's four and a half years now. We've had our ups and downs. But if you ask me, this is the worst down we've had yet. Harry's gotten so distant; we can't even figure out what's wrong! I say that if he wants us to be his friend, he should try communicating with US for a change! We've certainly opened the lines in our direction!"
"Ron would you please calm down!" Hermione nearly shouted.
She started to say something else, but Harry was no longer listening. Seething with rage, he stalked away to the dormitories, without a care to as whether Ron and Hermione saw or heard him.
Once he was back to the solitude of his own bed, he pulled the bed curtains tightly closed. He needed to relax. Reaching within his robes, Harry withdrew his wand.
"Lumos," he whispered, and the tip of his wand shone with gentle light. Reaching under his bed, his hand found what it was searching for. Carefully, he withdrew the photo album that Hagrid had given him after his first year at Hogwarts, which contained pictures of his mother and father. Harry smiled at the pictures of his parents waving. But as he flipped through the rest of the pages, he came across the many pictures of him and Ron and Hermione, and his smile faded.
When he had reached the last page, a picture that Colin Creevey had taken of the three of them and Hagrid only a few months ago, Harry gently closed the book. Extinguishing his wand, Harry cried for the second time that day.