CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Lies My Girlfriend Told Me
"Up for one more visitor?"
"Please, I've been going out of my mind here," Harry complained, motioning Hermione over. "Madame Pomfrey insists on keeping me here until I stop grimacing every time I sit up."
"You look better," she observed.
"I look bored."
Amusement glinted in her eyes. "I would have thought you liked this place since you seem to end up here so much."
Harry noticed easily that there was something very different about her mood. "You seem happy," he stated.
"Ron and I made up," she said, her cheeks reddening.
Harry gave a satisfied nod. "Good. I was wondering when you two would see how thick you were being."
"I'd throw a pillow at you but I guess I shouldn't pick on the weak."
She was happy about Ron, but Harry picked up that something was troubling his friend. "Something on your mind?"
"It's nothing," she said dismissively.
The way she said 'nothing' told Harry it was definitely something. "I know it may not always seem this way but you can talk to me about anything," he said gently.
Often times didn't confide in him about things concerning her relationship with Ron. Ron was his best friend too, and she didn't think it was fair to put him in the middle of their problems. Other times she just did not want to burden him with her own relationship troubles because Harry had enough on his plate. But today, she felt that talking to Harry might lighten the guilt she was feeling.
She let out a small sigh. "Its just Ron and I had a long talk about everything and he said he didn't think he was good enough for me."
"And you think you should have known he was feeling that way?"
"Shouldn't I have? We've been together for almost two years and I had no idea he was walking around with that inside him.
"You can't blame yourself for what Ron feels. We both know he's always felt like he's had to prove himself. He has some sort of a – a – "
"Inferiority complex," Hermione supplied when he couldn't think of the word.
Harry nodded. "There's nothing you can do to change that. It's his battle and he has to deal with it."
"Still, maybe I shouldn't have flaunted my marks in front of his face at every opportunity."
To that, Harry actually smiled. "Hermione, Ron's proud of all your accomplishments – even if he has a less then enthusiastic way of showing it sometimes."
Despite his truthful words, Hermione only felt marginally better. Picking at his blanket, she thought what kind of a person was she if she had completely missed the fact that her boyfriend didn't think he deserved her?
"There's something else about Ron bothering you, isn't there?" Harry picked up.
"No, it's not about Ron," she said looking up. "It's about Ginny,"
He was thrown for a moment when she mentioned Ginny's name. "What is it?"
"I'm sure it's nothing," she said picking at his blanket again.
"If it was nothing it won't be bothering you. Hermione, tell me," he urged.
"I noticed some marks on her arms last week. She said she got them in Dark Arts class – but Harry these were serious bruises."
"I already knew that," said Harry. "I mean not about the marks on her arms, but there were some bruises on her back."
"And you didn't find that strange? We never got hurt like that."
Harry shrugged. "Maybe they've changed the program this year. The exercises are probably more rigorous now."
"Harry, I saw her the next morning and the marks were gone," she persisted, not letting up.
"So she's just a fast healer, or maybe Madame Pomfrey gave her something."
Hermione wanted to smack him – if he wasn't lying in a hospital bed, she would have. How could he be so daft? "Harry, it's humanly impossible to have bruises like Ginny had and have them disappear completely overnight. Any healing potion takes at least two days to completely remove bruises or cuts," she said, speaking as if she were quoting from a textbook. "It wasn't just that one time either. I've noticed other marks when we've been training together."
"I think you're making a big deal out of something that isn't."
"I hope I am, but it wouldn't hurt for you to broach the subject to her, would it?"
Harry sighed in resignation. "Ok, ok, I'll talk to her," he agreed, desperate to get Hermione off his back. "But I still think you're wrong."
Hermione stayed a little longer after that, and they talked about anything except Ron or Ginny. After she was gone, Harry very much wanted to believe that this was one of those few times Hermione Granger was wrong.
It was late Monday afternoon when the Hogwarts matron finally released Harry from her care. For all his stays in the hospital wing over the last seven years, it had not gotten any easier to pass the time. He had enough visitors, but even that couldn't keep boredom from seeping in. Being forced to lie in a bed all day, with nothing to do except homework could do that to a person.
Not surprisingly, Hermione had told him that most of Gryffindor seemed to know about his escapade into Hogsmeade with Ginny. When they found out how he had been injured they didn't seem to be in such awe of him anymore. That was perfectly fine with Harry. He didn't want any more admirers.
The common room was alive with activity when Harry slipped inside through the portrait hole. Dean and Seamus were the first ones to slap him on the shoulder and welcome him back. Soon, other Gryffindors, all in various years, were coming up to Harry and telling him they were glad to see him up and about again. No one breathed a word of why he had been in the hospital wing in the first place.
When Harry was able to break away from everyone, he caught sight of Ron over by the fire, engaged in a game of wizard's chess with Neville. Judging by all Neville's dismembered pieces laying off to the side, he was losing badly.
"How are you feeling, Harry?" Neville asked, glad for an interruption from the game.
"A lot better, thanks."
"I didn't know you were leaving the hospital wing today," said Ron, keeping his attention on the game.
"Madame Pomfrey sees enough of me on a regular basis, so it wasn't too hard to convince her to let me go."
"Thanks for what you did for Ginny," said Ron, his eyes focused on the chessboard while he moved his knight forward.
"I told you I would look out for her."
"No, I mean for almost getting her killed."
His statement caught Harry completely off guard. Ron had come to visit him several times and had never seemed angry before. What had changed? "Ron, I didn't know what would happen," Harry tried to tell him.
"How stupid of me? How could you know?" He stood up so fast he knocked the chessboard over. "There's only been about a dozen death eater attacks since school started, but who would ever think that they would attack Hogsmeade?"
Every one in the common room had turned to stare at them. They never mentioned the attacks openly like that, and the younger students that were around looked frightened at Ron's words. The rest seemed interested in the fight that was seemingly in the works.
"But I guess the rules have never applied to you," Ron went on angrily, "Because you're bloody Harry Potter and you can do whatever you bloody-well like."
"We've both broken enough school rules over the years, but that's not what this is about, is it? You're trying to make this about Ginny when it's really about you being jealous," Harry shot back, his own temper flaring.
Ron's jaw muscles clenched. "Grow up, Harry. I've learned enough not to want to be like you anymore."
"Are you sure? Maybe if you had a scar on your face you would feel like you were good enough for once in your life."
He knew as soon as the words left his mouth he should not have used his private conversation with Hermione against Ron. It was one thing to feel insecure and undeserving, it was another to be accused of it.
Eyes cold as ice, Ron said, "when did you become such a bastard, Harry?"
Harry was now well aware of the crowd surrounding them, watching their every move. Most were probably hoping for some sort of fight to break out, and despite how angry he was feeling that was the last thing Harry wanted to happen. He did not want to see the furious look on Madame Pomfrey's face if he ended up back in the hospital wing that night – because of fighting no less. He was already walking a fine line, after sneaking off to Hogsmeade. So, he chose the only real option left to him. He pushed passed Ron and the gathered crowd, taking the staircase up to the boy's dormitory two steps at a time.
Even with the door slightly ajar to the seventh year boys' dorm, Ginny knocked. When she got no response she took it upon herself to enter. With six older brothers, there would be nothing she hadn't seen before.
There were no lights on, but she could see well enough with the remaining sunlight pouring through the single glass window to find Harry lying on his bed, hands crossed behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.
When she stepped on a creaking floorboard, he turned his head to look at her. He looked surprised to see her, probably because it was the boys' dorm, but he stayed silent.
"Neville just told me you'd left the hospital wing." When he still refused to speak, she said, "how long have you been up here like this?"
Harry merely shrugged in reply.
"I know about what happened in the common room." She came over and sat at the edge of his bed. "For best mates, you and my brother sure do a good job of ticking each other off."
"I think we both got a little carried away."
"Don't worry, I already had it out with Ron downstairs about what happened."
Harry sat up, saying, "this is between me and him, you shouldn't have gotten involved."
"If Ron's being a prat, someone has to talk him down, and since Hermione wasn't around I took the job myself."
He was staring at her but he didn't seem to know what to say.
"You missed dinner," she said after a moment.
"I wasn't hungry."
She hated when he got like this. When he got in a mood like the one he was in now there wasn't much she could do to bring him out of it. Usually she would just leave him alone or talk to him for a bit until he stopped answering altogether. For a lot of people, some time alone would do them good, but for Harry, all it ever did was allow him wallow in his own depression. She suppressed a shiver, knowing full well what went on in that head of his.
"How are your arms?"
She was not expecting that question, and ended up stumbling through a response. "The – they're all better."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure. They are my own arms. Why do you keep asking?"
"Hermione was worried about you. She thought maybe you were more hurt then you were letting on."
"They're fine, see," she said, pushing up her sleeves to reveal perfectly healthy white skin. "I think Hermione's just overreacting."
"But you shouldn't have gotten hurt like that in the first place. Maybe Lupin's pushing your class too hard – "
"He's not," she stated firmly.
He almost wished Hermione hadn't said anything to him, because now he found himself torn between believing her and wondering if there was something else going on that she wasn't telling him.
"Now are you going to hide up here all night or are you going to come downstairs with me?"
"I think I'll just stay up here and get some homework done," replied Harry, reaching down the side of his bed for his school bag.
That was not the response she had been hoping for. Staying alone was absolutely the worst thing for Harry. He was most certainly not going to do homework. As soon as she left, he would probably go back to the brooding state he'd been in since before her arrival.
She wasn't going to give up on him yet, though.
Edging closer to his bed, she didn't stop until she was sitting right beside him. She leaned forward as if to kiss him, but Harry turned his head to the side.
"Don't, Gin," he said, his voice low.
He wouldn't even look at her, and she wasn't sure if that hurt more then him refusing to kiss her. It quickly became clear that it was time for her to leave. Harry didn't want her around, and quite frankly she didn't want to be near him anymore either.
Without so much as a 'goodbye', she slipped out of the boys' dorm. Tomorrow, Harry would approach her and act as if what had transpired between them had never happened – because that was what he always did. And she always let him.
Hermione was waiting for Harry when he arrived at their Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom the next morning. She had spent all of breakfast telling him everything he had missed, and when she had offered to have her and Ron show him the new attack techniques, Ron had glowered at her from across the table, but had stayed silent. Harry wasn't mad at him anymore, but he wasn't about to apologize when he knew the chances of Ron doing the same were slim to none.
"Did you talk to Ginny?" She asked as casually as she could.
"I did, last night, and she's fine, just like I told you she would be."
That answer did not seem to satisfy Hermione. "Maybe she's not telling you everything. Maybe – "
"No, Hermione, that's it. Don't ask me to investigate my girlfriend anymore," Harry stated sternly.
"I'm just trying to look out for my friend."
"No, you're not. You're forcing the issue when there's no reason to – unless there's something you're not telling me."
Harry saw her slip. He could tell by her eyes there was more going on then she was letting on.
"Hermione, you have to tell me," he pleaded.
"I don't know for sure," she said, lowering her voice, as to not be overheard.
"Don't know what for sure?" Harry pressed.
"In Ancient Runes we're studying how the first dark wizards brewed certain potions so they could invade the dreams of their enemy. They would use dark magic to take away all the positive feelings in the sleeping person so they could only have nightmares. It drove some wizards insane, being plagued by their worst fears night after night."
"But I'm not having any nightmares," he said, not sure where was going with this information.
"The potion can also be brewed to have the opposite effect," she continued. "Witches and wizards would normally use it on their own children if they had successive nightmares. When Voldemort gained power the first time, it was used excessively because of the wide spread fear. But it takes a very experienced med-witch or wizard to make because their can be serious side effects."
"You think this is what Ginny's doing?"
"I don't know for sure, Harry. I should have looked in to it when Ginny told me what she was planning to do for you. I had no idea how dangerous some of these spells could be."
"Hermione, I can't just accuse her of this without any proof."
Ron walked into the class then. He came over to sit on the other side of Hermione, carefully avoiding looking in Harry's direction.
"Find the book she's using. You have to trust me on this," she said in a hushed tone so Ron wouldn't hear her.
The class started a moment later when Lupin walked, and they spent the next hour copying notes about the proper techniques for hand-to-hand combat.
When the lesson was over, Hermione packed up her books, saying, "I'm going to Arithmancy. I hope when I see you two at lunch you've stopped being stubborn gits and are acting like best mates again."
"She's too smart for her own good that girl," said Ron, when she had left them.
"It has come in handy over the years," Harry pointed out. He could see Ron was struggling not to grin.
"About last night in the common room," Ron started, growing serious. "I guess I let my temper get the better of me,"
"It's okay."
"I just – "
"I know," Harry cut in.
"Let's hurry up and get to Divination," Ron said gruffly. "I don't want to be stuck sitting in the front with the old bat giving you pitying looks the entire time. Maybe today she'll finally predict a quick, and clean death for you."
This time they both grinned and began the trek up to the North Tower.
Hermione was so happy that he and Ron were on speaking terms again, that she didn't even comment on his leaving lunch earlier to do some research in the library. But first he had to stop by his dorm to pick something up.
It was much harder to sneak around with the Invisibility cloak during the daytime because of the number of students and professors walking around. And it was that much more difficult for him to sneak into the restricted section with Madame Pince sitting at her desk. He had to wait until she left to help a student before he could risk opening the wrought iron gate. Getting back out would be a problem, but he would deal with that when the time came.
He probably knew the restricted section better then most students. He had lost track of the times he, Ron, and Hermione had snuck in there over the years. Though he was somewhat suspicious of the times when Ron and Hermione had insisted they could look for the books on their own. He had never asked Ron afterwards why he always came back looking so happy when he hated the library.
Harry had never read any of the dream casting books before, but there was only one in particular he was interested in. He really hoped it was there because he didn't relish the thought of having to sneak into Ginny's room to get it. He wasn't sure he was ready to go that far, even when Hermione's hunches were rarely wrong.
After some searching he found what he was looking for. He pulled out the copy of When Good Dreams Turn Bad and brought it underneath his cloak. He started flipping through the pages as quietly as he could, until he came to page three hundred and four, The Purging of Nightmares. He made a spot on the floor and sat there, reading every word about the potion. It carried on over three pages. When he was done, it was all he could do to keep himself from going to Ginny's class and pulling her out of there.
He waited until dinner that night before approaching Ginny. He found her locked in conversation with Colin Creevy about photography. Colin was explaining the portfolio of pictures he was making, in hopes that after graduation he could get a job at the Daily Prophet.
Harry leaned close to her ear and whispered, "we need to talk. Now."
She could sense the urgency in his voice, but before she could even formulate a response he was hauling her out of there. He dragged her to an empty classroom, not saying so much as one word. He closed the door behind them, then took out his wand and muttered a silencing charm. She noticed he was still wearing his school bag.
She didn't know what had gotten in to him, but he had no right to tear her away from her friends like that without even an explanation. "You could have at least let me say good bye to Colin," she fumed. "You can't just drag me off like I'm some – "
She didn't get a chance to finish the rest of that sentence because he opened his bag and slammed a very raggedy looking book onto the desk in front of her. She recognized it as When Good Dreams Turn Bad.
"You've been lying to me for weeks," he accused. His voice was calm but his green eyes were burning with barely controlled fury.
Dozens of plausible excuses popped into her brain. She could fix this without having to admit to anything – or at least that's what a small part of her still thought. The rest of her knew lying any further at this point would be futile. Harry knew everything.
"Harry, let me explain," she started.
"Why the hell should I let you explain anything? It'll probably just be more lies because that's all you seem to be capable of."
"I hated every second I had to lie to you. It killed me that I couldn't tell you what I was doing, but I knew you wouldn't have let me do it otherwise," she pleaded with him to understand. "This thing is not as bad as you're making out to be."
"For the potion to work you have to drink it too. And then my nightmares get transferred over to you and they show up as marks on your skin. I did the reading."
"They're only temporary." she insisted. "They last a few days at most and then go away. It's only because I haven't learned to control the spell yet. When I do – "
"Why are you still talking like you're going to keep doing this?" He shouted.
"Because that's the only way I'm going to learn!" She shouted back. "And because this is the only way I know how to help you!"
"You promised me that this wouldn't involve endangering yourself in any way. But that was just another lie!" He exploded.
"It was my choice to make," she said defiantly.
Before her brain could comprehend what was happening, Harry had her pinned against the wall, and was grabbing both of her arms. He roughly began pushing up the sleeves, revealing bare skin. There was a pattern of bruises covering her lower forearms, each one as long as Harry's thumb. "Why would you choose this?" He demanded, shaking her.
His fingers were digging into her flesh, but he wouldn't let up. "Let go, you're hurting me," she cried out.
"Tell me why you would choose this," he repeated, gripping her arms so hard she thought he was going to snap them in two.
She thought she had known why she had done it, why she had chosen to help him. But all her carefully thought out reasoning escaped her then. Staring at this person who looked every bit like Harry, but acted nothing like him. She wasn't so sure now why she had been so quick to help. She wasn't so sure she wanted to know this person he turned in to.
"I'm not worth this," he said, shaking now himself. "Nobody is." Then he finally let go, pushing himself away from her.
Until that moment, Ginny had never thought it possible to be afraid of Harry Potter, but there she was, shaking and numb with the pain from her arms. A realization struck her then that she was more scared of him then she had ever been of Tom Riddle. With Tom it had been different – she had known what he was capable of, but had been too much under the influence of the diary to stop herself. But with Harry, he had always been this troubled, yet gentle person, willing to help anyone, without so much as a thought to his own safety. She had no idea he had it in himself to be this cruel.
She wondered if his thoughts mirrored hers as he left the classroom, slamming the door violently behind him.