Disclaimer: Simply borrowing these characters and not making a profit.
-- Chapter Twenty-One --
- Yana5, SpazMcG7, Without permission, Vash The Stampede29, Bongo MonkeysXP, Shania Maxwell - thank you for reviewing!
A/N: Hey guys. Two things I want to say first off. One, I'm not telling you what's in the letter until I feel it's time (Hehe, I love having control of this story) and two, there is no relationship that doesn't have its flaws. Therefore, if I hadn't created this fight, it would seem quite unrealistic, and my story would have a very, very big blemish in it (which, as the author, I of course DON'T want). Please, just let me get on with my writing (and I mean no offense at all here). Hopefully, you'll all enjoy. Unfortunately, I had to do this chapter (a long one, at least by my standards) without my beta-reader, Lynette (as she is on vacation, if I remember correctly), so I am very sorry if it is not quite up to standards with my previous ones. I did, however, enjoy writing it very much and am very pleased with the outcome. Enough with my babbling, though, and enjoy the story!
--
Harry slowly drifted off into a restless sleep, filled with haunting dreams. Ron sat down on his bed and watched his friend struggle through those dreams.
Hermione came up the stairs a couple minutes later.
"I wish I could help him. You know I'd do anything for him, right?" Ron asked his fiancée, not taking his eyes of Harry.
"Of course I know that. We both would. We all would," she answered, in a very typical Hermione way.
Hermione sat by Ron, placing her head in his lap. He gently stroked through her hair.
"He wasn't himself just now. Harry's always full of hope. Everything that has fallen his way and he's always been able to battle through it," Ron told her. "But now, after this one fight with Draco and he's acting like it's the end of the world. I don't understand."
"Yes you do Ron," Hermione answered. "You just don't realize it. How would you react if I ended what we have? Especially if I didn't give you a real reason. Don't you see? Harry and Draco shared something more than an accident with a potion. They have real feelings for each other. Both of them, whether or not you want to believe it, have been dealt a hard hand. You know what Mal-," she cut herself of as she realized she was calling Draco by his last name. "You know what Draco's father is like. Imagine living with him. I actually think the reason Draco abandoned this relationship is pressure from Lucius. Do you realize all hell would break loose if his father found out that his pureblood son was sleeping with the person who banished Voldemort?"
Ron lowered his eyes and looked at Hermione.
"I'd kill myself if you left me," he told her, his voice entirely sincere, not a drip of sarcasm.
He shifted his gaze to Harry.
"Would you be able to survive? I mean, survive everything that Harry's been put through?" Ron asked Hermione, his eyes not leaving Harry.
"Not alone. That's why he needs Draco, and us." She answered, after a moment.
Ron thought about what she said, then leaned over and gave Hermione a kiss on the forehead. He moved her so she was lying on the bed and then he rose slowly.
When she lifted her head slightly to see what he was doing, he answered, "I'll be right back. You should get some sleep,"
Ron rose and walked out of the dorm. He headed down the stairs, through the common room, and out into the hallways. He looked around, and then gaited to the library, in hopes of finding Draco.
He reached the library and stepped into the doorway. Looking around, he established that Draco's whereabouts where not in the library. He sauntered in any way and picked up a book that Sinistra had told them would come in quite useful for the N.E.W.T.S.
On his way back upstairs, he slowly realized that there was nothing he could about the situation in any case. He'd just make things worse and this was between Harry and Draco in any case. With a sigh, he grabbed his book bag from his bedside, covering Hermione with a blanket, and took a seat by the fire in the common room. He took out his homework and started working. They hadn't had this much homework since their fifth year; the year that they took their O.W.LS. in.
Harry awoke the next day a little late for breakfast. He got dressed then went to the Great Hall. He took a seat at the very end of the table, distancing himself from the rest of the Gryffindors, even Hermione and Ron.
He took his time eating his omelet. He finished his meal of with a cup of coffee. Glancing at his watch, Harry rose from the table, and without another word, went back to his dorm. He took out a roll of parchment, a quill, and all his assignments. Checking his watch once more, he started on his homework. After finishing an essay on the properties of hibiscus roots and their uses in potions, he put away his things and walked down to the Potions classroom.
He waited patiently outside of Snape's class until he was permitted entrance by the hated professor.
He acted oblivious when Ron and Hermione walked in and took their seats. He ignored Draco when he walked in. He disregarded everyone else's entrances as well. Only when Snape walked in did he cease staring aimlessly at the board.
The rest of the class immediately quieted down upon the professor's arrival.
"Today," Snape began, "We will learn how to create the Tranquil Dream Draught."
Snape paused for emphasis.
"Does anyone know what the potion is used for?" he asked.
Harry, Hermione and Draco raised their hands. However, upon seeing Harry's hand, Hermione and Draco slowly lowered theirs, shocked to see Harry participating in his least favorite class.
Snape looked around desperately for another hand, but left with no other choice (and the hope that Harry would fail to answer correctly), Snape gave Harry a nod of permission to speak.
"The Tranquil Dream Draught is used on people who have trouble sleeping due to nightmares," Harry said, recollecting what Madam Pomfrey had suggested to him when he couldn't sleep in the Hospital Wing.
Snape frowned even more so than usual.
"That is correct."
He looked around the room to see if any Gryffindors dared smile at Harry's accurate answer.
"This potion involves a delicate process and can sometimes be hazardous. Messing with your subconscious thoughts may often lead to insanity and as I'm sure many of you will fail, we will not be testing it, unfortunately," Snape paused to look at Harry with the same hatred Harry had seen time and time again, especially after the little Pensieve incident. "Rather, you will simply submit a sample to me at the end of class with your name clearly written on it," he instructed.
"The directions," he said, turning to face the board, "are written on the board."
With a flick of his wand, the instructions and list ingredients appeared on the surface Harry had been so keen on staring at earlier. And with one more flick, the store cupboard sprang open.
Harry immediately began on the potion, double-checking everything he did with the directives on the board. Even Hermione was surprised by the amount of effort Harry was putting into his work. When Snape started making his rounds, scowling at the various incompetently prepared potions, Harry was just about finished. By the time Snape arrived, he was pouring some potion into a bottle.
"Well, Potter, let's see what you've cooked up here," Snape smirked.
He glanced into the cauldron. It was the perfect burgundy color that it was supposed to be, and the ideal temperature; it was even the flawless texture.
He looked up at Harry, glowered at him, and continued walking without saying a word. Ron gaped open-mouthed at Harry.
Harry chose to ignore Snape's callous reaction to his distinctly well- prepared potion.
The bell rang and Harry packed up his things.
"I want you all to turn in 10 inches of parchment on the uses of deltrinium, horsespring, and sprachets. Mr. Potter, since you appear to be so fond of this potion, you may turn in 15 inches," Snape leered, giving Harry no choice but to oblige.
Harry walked out of class before Hermione or Ron had a chance to come up to him to comment on his recent behavior.
His next class was Transfiguration. He managed to struggle through an extremely complex spell that involved transforming an inanimate object into a force of energy; more specifically, fire. Harry was even able to copy down fairly decent notes that would easily get him through the eleven inches of parchment they had to do for homework.
Ron looked stunned at Harry's new perception towards schoolwork.
At the end of class, Harry escaped before Ron or Hermione could confront him.
And so the rest of his classes went. Harry studied almost as hard as Hermione did and he left before either of his friends could come up to him. After classes, Harry would quickly grab something to eat and then head upstairs to complete his homework. He'd go to bed around nine each evening.
Most often, however, he wouldn't get more then three hours sleep. The dark circles he's always had seemed to darken and his eyes gave off a sinister appearance. Frequently, he'd wake up at night screaming or in a sweat. On more than one occasion, he woke up in tears. His dreams, now, not only reflected his past horrific experiences, his parents, Sirius, but now he saw Hermione and Ron die. And repeatedly, Harry saw Draco die before his eyes.
His roommates had started to complain. They had suggested trying the Tranquil Dream Draught that they had recently done in Snape's class. Harry would rebel to the idea by calmly walking out of the room and working on more schoolwork. Nobody but Ron and Hermione knew how many different potions he been given to try. None of them had ever worked. His agitated nights couldn't be calmed by even the strongest of the potions.
Nobody could get more than a sentence out of him.
Harry and Draco ignored each other whenever they saw each other.
While Harry's grades started to dramatically improve, his contact with everyone around him lessened. Harry had stopped talking to anyone at all unless it was absolutely necessary. The other students had noticed this. Every time Harry walked into the Great Hall, the whispers began. They ranged everything from him going completely crazy to him being jealous of Ron (news of the engagement had spread) and from him being upset over a break-up to the fact that he's being controlled by Voldemort (or that he's gone over to the Dark side himself). Everyday, Harry heard them and everyday, he ignored them.
Hermione and Ron worried over it, but knew there wasn't anything they could do. In fact, they often wondered, unfortunately, how Harry had lasted this long. And, as Hermione pointed out, at least he wasn't abandoning his school work. Whenever they passed Draco, however, they sent spiteful looks his way, but he chose to ignore them. The childish bickering between Draco and the Golden Trio had long ceased, but now it was replaced by deep, intense hate on Ron and Hermione's part.
Finally, winter break arrived, but with the constant threat of an attack from Voldemort, the school was closed off. No one could leave for the holidays. The students were becoming restive. Filch certainly had his hands full. The library was usually empty, however, and Harry often went there. Indeed, he spent most of his days there. He was almost up to Hermione's level.
As the week of Christmas and New Year's Eve approached, the students were informed that all the fireplaces would be open to visitors from family members, and family members only.
Under normal circumstances, when people didn't keep popping out of fireplaces, he didn't mind sitting by them. However, nowadays, Harry steered clear of any rooms that had fireplaces. It reminded him too much of how Sirius used to communicate with him.
Once Harry ran out of work to do for his classes, finished reading, and outlining, all his school books, and had created a study guide for the N.E.W.T.S., he confined himself to his dorm, spending most of his days sleeping. Thus, the last week of vacation crept by.
When classes resumed, Harry recommenced his rigorous study schedule.
However, the one class he completely avoided was Defense Against the Dark Arts. He had not seen Windsler, except when he caught a glimpse of him in the Great Hall or in the hallways. From his previous classes with the professor, Harry knew that he was missing important classes. However, he could not bring himself to attend his class. It was a reminder of Draco's desertion and the perpetual hazard of Voldemort's return.
Harry knew that at the moment, he was failing that class. By testing standards, he was unquestionably getting a T (for Troll) if that was truly possible, seeing as how he'd never found out if it wasn't.
His only hope was his previous, extensive knowledge of the subject would allow him to perform well enough on his N.E.W.T.S. to receive an Outstanding. In his spare time, or on those sleepless nights, Harry could be found poring over various Defense Against the Dark Arts books. If he couldn't find anything to test the spells on, he'd perform them on himself. His roommates had gotten so used to waking up and see Harry covered in bruises had long ceased being shocking.
But in truth, Harry was only taking Dumbledore's words to heart by practicing the spells on himself. He remembered word for word what Dumbledore had told him about him being human, the pain. He had twisted Dumbledore's meaning to suit him right now.
And so the days passed. Voldemort's attacks were becoming less rare, less hidden, Harry's dreams became more violent, his behavior more estranged, His friends became gradually more and more concerned, and the teachers more pleased. While Dumbledore knew of everything that was happening, he knew that this would simply have to play itself out.
-- End of Chapter Twenty-One --
-- Chapter Twenty-One --
- Yana5, SpazMcG7, Without permission, Vash The Stampede29, Bongo MonkeysXP, Shania Maxwell - thank you for reviewing!
A/N: Hey guys. Two things I want to say first off. One, I'm not telling you what's in the letter until I feel it's time (Hehe, I love having control of this story) and two, there is no relationship that doesn't have its flaws. Therefore, if I hadn't created this fight, it would seem quite unrealistic, and my story would have a very, very big blemish in it (which, as the author, I of course DON'T want). Please, just let me get on with my writing (and I mean no offense at all here). Hopefully, you'll all enjoy. Unfortunately, I had to do this chapter (a long one, at least by my standards) without my beta-reader, Lynette (as she is on vacation, if I remember correctly), so I am very sorry if it is not quite up to standards with my previous ones. I did, however, enjoy writing it very much and am very pleased with the outcome. Enough with my babbling, though, and enjoy the story!
--
Harry slowly drifted off into a restless sleep, filled with haunting dreams. Ron sat down on his bed and watched his friend struggle through those dreams.
Hermione came up the stairs a couple minutes later.
"I wish I could help him. You know I'd do anything for him, right?" Ron asked his fiancée, not taking his eyes of Harry.
"Of course I know that. We both would. We all would," she answered, in a very typical Hermione way.
Hermione sat by Ron, placing her head in his lap. He gently stroked through her hair.
"He wasn't himself just now. Harry's always full of hope. Everything that has fallen his way and he's always been able to battle through it," Ron told her. "But now, after this one fight with Draco and he's acting like it's the end of the world. I don't understand."
"Yes you do Ron," Hermione answered. "You just don't realize it. How would you react if I ended what we have? Especially if I didn't give you a real reason. Don't you see? Harry and Draco shared something more than an accident with a potion. They have real feelings for each other. Both of them, whether or not you want to believe it, have been dealt a hard hand. You know what Mal-," she cut herself of as she realized she was calling Draco by his last name. "You know what Draco's father is like. Imagine living with him. I actually think the reason Draco abandoned this relationship is pressure from Lucius. Do you realize all hell would break loose if his father found out that his pureblood son was sleeping with the person who banished Voldemort?"
Ron lowered his eyes and looked at Hermione.
"I'd kill myself if you left me," he told her, his voice entirely sincere, not a drip of sarcasm.
He shifted his gaze to Harry.
"Would you be able to survive? I mean, survive everything that Harry's been put through?" Ron asked Hermione, his eyes not leaving Harry.
"Not alone. That's why he needs Draco, and us." She answered, after a moment.
Ron thought about what she said, then leaned over and gave Hermione a kiss on the forehead. He moved her so she was lying on the bed and then he rose slowly.
When she lifted her head slightly to see what he was doing, he answered, "I'll be right back. You should get some sleep,"
Ron rose and walked out of the dorm. He headed down the stairs, through the common room, and out into the hallways. He looked around, and then gaited to the library, in hopes of finding Draco.
He reached the library and stepped into the doorway. Looking around, he established that Draco's whereabouts where not in the library. He sauntered in any way and picked up a book that Sinistra had told them would come in quite useful for the N.E.W.T.S.
On his way back upstairs, he slowly realized that there was nothing he could about the situation in any case. He'd just make things worse and this was between Harry and Draco in any case. With a sigh, he grabbed his book bag from his bedside, covering Hermione with a blanket, and took a seat by the fire in the common room. He took out his homework and started working. They hadn't had this much homework since their fifth year; the year that they took their O.W.LS. in.
Harry awoke the next day a little late for breakfast. He got dressed then went to the Great Hall. He took a seat at the very end of the table, distancing himself from the rest of the Gryffindors, even Hermione and Ron.
He took his time eating his omelet. He finished his meal of with a cup of coffee. Glancing at his watch, Harry rose from the table, and without another word, went back to his dorm. He took out a roll of parchment, a quill, and all his assignments. Checking his watch once more, he started on his homework. After finishing an essay on the properties of hibiscus roots and their uses in potions, he put away his things and walked down to the Potions classroom.
He waited patiently outside of Snape's class until he was permitted entrance by the hated professor.
He acted oblivious when Ron and Hermione walked in and took their seats. He ignored Draco when he walked in. He disregarded everyone else's entrances as well. Only when Snape walked in did he cease staring aimlessly at the board.
The rest of the class immediately quieted down upon the professor's arrival.
"Today," Snape began, "We will learn how to create the Tranquil Dream Draught."
Snape paused for emphasis.
"Does anyone know what the potion is used for?" he asked.
Harry, Hermione and Draco raised their hands. However, upon seeing Harry's hand, Hermione and Draco slowly lowered theirs, shocked to see Harry participating in his least favorite class.
Snape looked around desperately for another hand, but left with no other choice (and the hope that Harry would fail to answer correctly), Snape gave Harry a nod of permission to speak.
"The Tranquil Dream Draught is used on people who have trouble sleeping due to nightmares," Harry said, recollecting what Madam Pomfrey had suggested to him when he couldn't sleep in the Hospital Wing.
Snape frowned even more so than usual.
"That is correct."
He looked around the room to see if any Gryffindors dared smile at Harry's accurate answer.
"This potion involves a delicate process and can sometimes be hazardous. Messing with your subconscious thoughts may often lead to insanity and as I'm sure many of you will fail, we will not be testing it, unfortunately," Snape paused to look at Harry with the same hatred Harry had seen time and time again, especially after the little Pensieve incident. "Rather, you will simply submit a sample to me at the end of class with your name clearly written on it," he instructed.
"The directions," he said, turning to face the board, "are written on the board."
With a flick of his wand, the instructions and list ingredients appeared on the surface Harry had been so keen on staring at earlier. And with one more flick, the store cupboard sprang open.
Harry immediately began on the potion, double-checking everything he did with the directives on the board. Even Hermione was surprised by the amount of effort Harry was putting into his work. When Snape started making his rounds, scowling at the various incompetently prepared potions, Harry was just about finished. By the time Snape arrived, he was pouring some potion into a bottle.
"Well, Potter, let's see what you've cooked up here," Snape smirked.
He glanced into the cauldron. It was the perfect burgundy color that it was supposed to be, and the ideal temperature; it was even the flawless texture.
He looked up at Harry, glowered at him, and continued walking without saying a word. Ron gaped open-mouthed at Harry.
Harry chose to ignore Snape's callous reaction to his distinctly well- prepared potion.
The bell rang and Harry packed up his things.
"I want you all to turn in 10 inches of parchment on the uses of deltrinium, horsespring, and sprachets. Mr. Potter, since you appear to be so fond of this potion, you may turn in 15 inches," Snape leered, giving Harry no choice but to oblige.
Harry walked out of class before Hermione or Ron had a chance to come up to him to comment on his recent behavior.
His next class was Transfiguration. He managed to struggle through an extremely complex spell that involved transforming an inanimate object into a force of energy; more specifically, fire. Harry was even able to copy down fairly decent notes that would easily get him through the eleven inches of parchment they had to do for homework.
Ron looked stunned at Harry's new perception towards schoolwork.
At the end of class, Harry escaped before Ron or Hermione could confront him.
And so the rest of his classes went. Harry studied almost as hard as Hermione did and he left before either of his friends could come up to him. After classes, Harry would quickly grab something to eat and then head upstairs to complete his homework. He'd go to bed around nine each evening.
Most often, however, he wouldn't get more then three hours sleep. The dark circles he's always had seemed to darken and his eyes gave off a sinister appearance. Frequently, he'd wake up at night screaming or in a sweat. On more than one occasion, he woke up in tears. His dreams, now, not only reflected his past horrific experiences, his parents, Sirius, but now he saw Hermione and Ron die. And repeatedly, Harry saw Draco die before his eyes.
His roommates had started to complain. They had suggested trying the Tranquil Dream Draught that they had recently done in Snape's class. Harry would rebel to the idea by calmly walking out of the room and working on more schoolwork. Nobody but Ron and Hermione knew how many different potions he been given to try. None of them had ever worked. His agitated nights couldn't be calmed by even the strongest of the potions.
Nobody could get more than a sentence out of him.
Harry and Draco ignored each other whenever they saw each other.
While Harry's grades started to dramatically improve, his contact with everyone around him lessened. Harry had stopped talking to anyone at all unless it was absolutely necessary. The other students had noticed this. Every time Harry walked into the Great Hall, the whispers began. They ranged everything from him going completely crazy to him being jealous of Ron (news of the engagement had spread) and from him being upset over a break-up to the fact that he's being controlled by Voldemort (or that he's gone over to the Dark side himself). Everyday, Harry heard them and everyday, he ignored them.
Hermione and Ron worried over it, but knew there wasn't anything they could do. In fact, they often wondered, unfortunately, how Harry had lasted this long. And, as Hermione pointed out, at least he wasn't abandoning his school work. Whenever they passed Draco, however, they sent spiteful looks his way, but he chose to ignore them. The childish bickering between Draco and the Golden Trio had long ceased, but now it was replaced by deep, intense hate on Ron and Hermione's part.
Finally, winter break arrived, but with the constant threat of an attack from Voldemort, the school was closed off. No one could leave for the holidays. The students were becoming restive. Filch certainly had his hands full. The library was usually empty, however, and Harry often went there. Indeed, he spent most of his days there. He was almost up to Hermione's level.
As the week of Christmas and New Year's Eve approached, the students were informed that all the fireplaces would be open to visitors from family members, and family members only.
Under normal circumstances, when people didn't keep popping out of fireplaces, he didn't mind sitting by them. However, nowadays, Harry steered clear of any rooms that had fireplaces. It reminded him too much of how Sirius used to communicate with him.
Once Harry ran out of work to do for his classes, finished reading, and outlining, all his school books, and had created a study guide for the N.E.W.T.S., he confined himself to his dorm, spending most of his days sleeping. Thus, the last week of vacation crept by.
When classes resumed, Harry recommenced his rigorous study schedule.
However, the one class he completely avoided was Defense Against the Dark Arts. He had not seen Windsler, except when he caught a glimpse of him in the Great Hall or in the hallways. From his previous classes with the professor, Harry knew that he was missing important classes. However, he could not bring himself to attend his class. It was a reminder of Draco's desertion and the perpetual hazard of Voldemort's return.
Harry knew that at the moment, he was failing that class. By testing standards, he was unquestionably getting a T (for Troll) if that was truly possible, seeing as how he'd never found out if it wasn't.
His only hope was his previous, extensive knowledge of the subject would allow him to perform well enough on his N.E.W.T.S. to receive an Outstanding. In his spare time, or on those sleepless nights, Harry could be found poring over various Defense Against the Dark Arts books. If he couldn't find anything to test the spells on, he'd perform them on himself. His roommates had gotten so used to waking up and see Harry covered in bruises had long ceased being shocking.
But in truth, Harry was only taking Dumbledore's words to heart by practicing the spells on himself. He remembered word for word what Dumbledore had told him about him being human, the pain. He had twisted Dumbledore's meaning to suit him right now.
And so the days passed. Voldemort's attacks were becoming less rare, less hidden, Harry's dreams became more violent, his behavior more estranged, His friends became gradually more and more concerned, and the teachers more pleased. While Dumbledore knew of everything that was happening, he knew that this would simply have to play itself out.
-- End of Chapter Twenty-One --