Boys Don't Cry

Chapter Six.

Outside, the sun's rays were a soft yellow, peeking out from the snow- covered hills. The grounds were still deep from the constant snowfall, but they were clean and pure—they were not dirty or soiled. The air was crisp and fresh, cold and chilly, but one could only admire the simple but beautiful day.

Inside the house were scattered and hurried footsteps, hugs and wishes for luck, smiles that were genuine, despite the recent happenings.

Harry smiled sadly as he felt Molly Weasley's arms embrace him. He pulled back, and saw that her blue eyes were twinkling, her lips curved into a smile.

"I wish you the best, Harry," she simply said, and Harry nodded, still smiling, knowing what she meant and that she needn't say anymore.

He watched, looking around, as people offered handshakes and hugs. He could see Hermione across the room, smiling and embracing the other members.

He hadn't had the chance to speak with her. Her training session with Remus hadn't ended until after dinner, and even then she always found some way to slip from his grasp. He had gone down to dinner, though he had no appetite, in hopes of asking her for a word afterwards.

He was met with disappointment when, though it was expected, she would not even glance at him at the table. And afterwards, though he was sure he had been keeping a close eye on her, she had managed to escape. Once he had turned around, she was no longer there.

He felt someone grab his hand, as he smiled and shook hands with another member. But as he let go, he sighed, looking around in the room, once again, before lowering his eyes and turning away. He walked to the kitchen, the noise getting quieter to his ears as he got farther and farther away. He entered the cozy kitchen: the long, wooden table, the scuffed hardwood floor, the comfortable chairs, the windows that let you peek into the outside world, but didn't allow them to see in. He took a seat, facing the windows, letting out a quiet sigh that was even indistinct to his own ears.

He closed his eyes for a moment, slouching his shoulders, his heart feeling heavy and overshadowed by such doubt and hopelessness that he had acquired the past few days. He bowed his head, feeling his fingers entwine in his untamed hair. The skin on his fingers and palms were cold, as they collided with the warmth of his scalp.

Hogwarts. He was going home.

He did not know what to expect, besides celebration and happiness. He looked forward to returning, to meeting up with Ron once again, and walking through the echoing halls and corridors of his school. He had missed Hogwarts.

But though his return to the school was anticipated, and he was quite excited, he couldn't help but feel a sort of overwhelming sadness wash over him. He was to leave Hogwarts this year. He was to leave everything, behind. He had planned to leave with Hermione... wed, and live together. He had had everything planned out inside his mind. Everything.

But he hadn't seen the twist in the road that turned it all upside down.

He didn't want to leave, to start his life. His life had already started. It had already begun. He did not want to leave without anything at all but a broken heart and broken promises. He did not want to feel as if he had left his heart behind also. He did not want to feel anything at all.

"Harry?"

He opened his eyes, as he raised his head from his hands. He looked up at the figure standing yards away from him with weary eyes. He smiled.
"Hi, Remus," he said quietly.

Remus nodded, a dark look in his eyes, as he walked over to him and sat down. Harry's eyes trailed him before he spoke through the awkward silence that had engulfed the room.

"Listen, Remus...I'm sorry. Those words, what I said...it wasn't...you didn't deserve it. You didn't deserve it at all. I'm sorry. For everything. You're right. I shouldn't have tried to attack that man...I just...I wasn't thinking clearly." Harry chuckled quietly to himself, staring at his hands, "I guess I haven't been thinking clearly at all for the past few days."

Remus smiled. It was not a wide smile, but it was a smile that let Harry know that he wasn't mad at him at all.

"I understand, Harry. I shouldn't have...gone off on you either. I didn't really stop to think what everything that's been happening is doing to you...I was--I didn't see it from your shoes. I couldn't. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

Harry smiled faintly, staring at his fingers and palms. "It's alright, Remus," he said quietly.

Remus sighed.

"It must feel odd, going back. Dumbledore owled us last night with his instructions to get you to Hogwarts. I think that ball...it's going to be utterly fantastic and magnificent, I must say. I think you're going to have a good time, Harry." When Harry did not say a word, Remus continued. "Just don't think about what's happened," he said. "Just have a good time. You deserve it, Harry. Give yourself a break."

Harry smiled crookedly. "Thanks, Remus. I'll try."

Remus smiled, leaning back on his chair.

"That's a good lad, Harry," he paused, as if trying to read him. "And, you know...about you and Hermione... I have a good feeling things will work out just fine. I really do. You two love each other so much, I can see it... Nothing can break that, Harry. Not even some fight, or a battle with Voldemort, or keeping her away for her own sake. She loves you more than you think. She's a smart girl; too smart for her own good, sometimes, but Harry... Everything will be just fine. Just at least try to believe me when I say that."

Harry stared down at his pale and unbruised hands, trying to keep himself from shaking his head and telling Remus that he couldn't believe that anymore.

Not when everything had gone like this.

He knew well enough that Remus would never spark false hope inside him, but he pleaded to Remus inside his mind to understand what he was asking of him. Harry was just so tired, so weary of trying... He wanted to give up. He wanted just to throw his hands up and just sulk in his misery.

He had tried; believing in the happy ending that he tried to convince himself would come for him. He told himself that everything would be just fine, if he just kept trying and didn't give up. He had believed that there was hope for him, still.

Until last night.

He had had a dream about her again. Hermione. She had been standing there, with him. Smiling, laughing. She had been in his arms, smiling up at him, her hands curled on the nape of his neck.

And then he noticed that she was crying.

And she was trying to pull away from him, as he was trying to keep her with him. She was pulling away from his embrace, until he was merely just holding onto her from her hand. He could still remember her pained eyes, her pink lips that quivered. And her words that chimed and broke everything inside of him.

"I can't love you, Harry... Please just let me go... Please... Just let me go."

And then he remembered. Her hand had just slipped through his grasp, and she was gone. As if she had just vanished, as if she had just been a mirage or a prank of his longing thoughts.

She was gone.

He sighed, confusion swimming inside his mind, as he tried to focus back on Remus. He chose to not remark about Remus's comment, as he just looked up at him and smiled.

"I'm going to miss you, Remus." Remus broke into a big grin, as he enveloped Harry into a big and tight hug. Harry let him, closing his eyes.

Finally, they let go just as Molly Weasley had walked inside the kitchen. She smiled widely at the two of them, her sapphire eyes dancing at the scene she had just witnessed.

"Remus," she acknowledged. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's time for Harry to go."

Remus nodded, clapping Harry on the back, before Molly walked out of the kitchen. He smiled down at him, a pure, genuine and happy smile.

"Take care of yourself, kid," he said to him.

"I will, Remus," Harry grinned faintly. "Don't worry about me. I'll be just fine."

And Harry stood and walked out of the kitchen, Remus trailing behind him. With one big, final goodbye, he and Hermione left.

oooo

They had to make a stop in Diagon Alley, an antique bookstore that had just opened, judging from their sign. Dumbledore had created quite a unique and strange way for them to Hogwarts, consisting of the backroom of the bookstore, Apparating to another odd store in Hogsmeade, and then a final Apparation in another stuffy backroom of that store, to Hogwarts.

Molly Weasley had explained that Professor Dumbledore, for they knew that Hogwarts was protected with powerful spells and enchantments that no wizard or witch could Apparate through, had set up some places from which they could Apparate from.

Each place would get them closer to Hogwarts, every room enchanted with a spell to let them through, and then finally, the last special room in which they had to Apparate from to reach Hogwarts. Dumbledore had clarified that he had put up some very complex and fairly difficult spells in that one specific room, a loophole, connecting it to Hogwarts and then making a barrier so that once they had passed through, it would close and no one else could get through. Harry thought it was quite brilliant, room after room, and realized that Dumbledore had always managed to surprise him with his tactics and matchless plans.

Harry tried to ignore, with all he could muster of his strength and will power, the uptight and tense silence between him and the brunette girl beside him. None of them spoke for their whole Apparation, though Harry felt like he was about to burst from it all. He wanted to speak to her, about anything. He just wanted everything to go back to the way they were, if the possibility of them being together as more than friends was beyond his reach. But as he looked at Hermione before their final Apparation to Hogwarts, bags under her closed eyes, her pale and delicate face, he found his voice non-existent. He could not utter a word, and as he, too, closed his eyes and sighed softly, he found that it would probably better this way.

So, instead, he just shut his eyes and they Apparated.

And when he opened them back up again, he found himself standing in front of Albus Dumbledore and the rest of the Hogwarts staff, beaming at him with twinkling eyes that he was sure, could blind anyone if they had walked by.

He watched as Minerva McGonagall clapped her hands together, smiling so happily at the both of them, as Dumbledore chuckled heartedly. He glanced at Hermione beside him, and his heart jumped at the look in her eyes.

Her deep brown eyes were sparkling, looking straight ahead, the corner of her lips stretched into a smile. That was enough to make him smile, too.

"Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore acknowledged. "It is, utmost, a true pleasure to have you two back. I cannot say how much my heart is grateful to the both of you, and the joy we have inquired and observed around here, at Hogwarts. Your fellow peers are thrilled, if I may say so, myself." Madam Pomfrey beamed at the both of them, as Professor Flitwick gave out a joyful laugh.

"Welcome back," they greeted the two of them, and they both nodded their heads, grateful for the welcoming group and warm greeting.

Harry found himself shaking hands with his professors as they congratulated and thanked him, as Hermione herself was dragged away from her place beside him. He heard as they also shook her hand, their comments on her absence in their lessons.

"I've missed you in my class, Ms. Granger," he heard Professor Flitwick say. "You were one of the most brilliant, though, I'm sure you've known long before." He heard Hermione's soft and graceful laugh that always managed to fill his ears so intoxicatingly, as he felt his insides suddenly turn into a dizzy mist.

He hadn't heard her laugh in what seemed like ages.

He smiled faintly as he shook hands with Professor Sprout, and the new Potions teacher they had employed a few months back, but did not come until recently, when they had been away. She was a petite woman with choppy black hair and a wide smile.

"Guinevere Psyche," she said, shaking his hand. "Pleasure to meet you. You're brilliant," she said, and Harry chuckled weakly. He also shook hands with the DADA professor: a stout man with blue eyes and sandy hair, by the name of Kamron DeVelroa. But as he looked around at the familiar staircases and walls, the enchanted and tall ceilings... He had a feeling that he had missed someone.

Suddenly, it hit him. Hagrid.

"I don't mean to be rude by asking," Harry said, "but where's—"

A loud chuckle and someone suddenly lifting him up into a bone-crushing hug interrupted him. He heard soft laughter around him as he recognized who it was.

"'arry!" Hagrid cried happily. "You're back! I can't believe it! I'm so bloody proud of yeh!"

Harry smiled, wincing slightly as Hagrid hugged him tighter. "Hagrid," he said, in pain.

"Hagrid... I think Mr. Potter has had quite a lot of hugs—"

"Oh, right," Hagrid said, abashed, as he put him down gently. Harry grinned at him, happy to see his big friend. "Dreadfully sorry, 'arry," he said, still smiling.

"I'm okay, Hagrid," Harry said. Hagrid nodded, jolly, before his eyes flickered to behind him.

"'ermione!" he exclaimed, picking her up for a hug, also, but gentler this time, from his recent reminder. He set her back down, and she was smiling wide at him.

"I'm so glad to see you, Hagrid," she said.

"Yeh can't be gladder than me, that's for sure," Hagrid laughed.

oooo

Dumbldore had explained that the ball would take place tomorrow night and that the preparations were still in assembly—the bubbling excitement had delayed quite a few things, he had said, with a wink. But he said that it would be a magnificent one, none like Hogwarts had before, with all the years attending and far more stunning decorations and reasons to celebrate.

He had said that their luggage and belongings had already been brought up, and that they could head up to their dormitories. Harry smiled, his eyes dancing, excitement in seeing his dear friends once again. He could see that Hermione felt the same way, too, as they quickly walked to the Gryffindor dormitories.

"It's so great to be back," she whispered, smiling. Harry nodded, also grinning madly.

"It is. I can't wait to see Ron!" he sighed. Hermione chuckled softly. But as they entered a dark corridor, with torches lit against the wall, glancing quickly at her, her expression changed. Her smile had faded rapidly, and her eyes were dark with a speck of fear, as she looked at the walls and ahead. He looked down at her hands and noticed that she was gripping her cloak tightly, her knuckles turning white.

"Hermione," he whispered, concerned. "Are you alright?" There was silence, as she didn't answer him, and instead gave a look that puzzled him.

He had never seen her this way before.

Her deep brown eyes were fearful, though she tried to suppress it. Her face was pale, her hands wringing on her robe. He didn't understand what suddenly made her so... scared.

And that's when it flashed in his mind. Voldemort. Visions. Hermione. This was his chance. He looked at her, before opening his mouth to ask, but suddenly they were out of the corridor and they were ascending the stairs. The portraits gasped and ahh-ed at him, as they started to speak. Harry closed his mouth disappointedly.

"There's Harry Potter!" he heard one of them exclaim in joy. "Oh Merlin! He's defeated him, I've heard!"

"Atta boy, lad!" a man swung his hands in the air for him.

"What a brave boy," a girl said. "It's great to see you again, Mr. Potter!"

"I always knew he had it in him!"

"Impressive, Harry! Very impressive!"

After about hundreds of comments and remarks about him as they passed, they finally reached the Fat Lady's portrait. She smiled at him, widely.

"Password?"

Harry looked at her, confusion written all over his face.

He hadn't asked for the password.

"Bloody hell," he sighed, running a hand through his midnight hair. "I can't believe—"

"Salum Marinus," he heard Hermione say beside him. He looked at her, giving her a questioning look, as the portrait door swung open.

"Dumbledore told me," she said quietly, before she walked in, and Harry followed behind.

Harry smiled widely, as he heard cheers and loud applause, before he was suddenly rushed at. He could barely see exactly who they were, for they ran to him so quickly, but he heard their voices and their cheers, and he told himself that it really was good to be back.

He felt them pat his head, slap his arm, as Ron, Dean, and Seamus tackled him.

"Harry! Harry! Harry!" he heard them chant, as it rang through the room.

Finally, when he had gotten to his feet, he had a clear view of their faces.

They were beaming at him, proud and joyful. He had never seen a sight such as this before. Suddenly, he saw him.

He was smiling at him so widely, with his red hair and his blue eyes twinkling.

"Welcome back, mate!" he said, as Harry rushed at him and enveloped him into a hug.

"Ron!" he exclaimed, embracing his friend. He heard Ron laugh, as he held him tightly. Finally, they pulled back, as the rest of the Gryffindors shook his hand and congratulated him.

They had food and butterbeer set up in the middle of the common room. Stocks and piles of Honeydukes sweets were assembled in a mountain that was dangerously lop-sided. Harry's grin widened, as Ron dragged him over to the table, insisting for him to eat as much as he can.

"It's still a while before dinner," Ron told him.

Harry took a glass of butterbeer. "Didn't you just have lunch? It's just—"

Ron waved him off. "Doesn't matter," he said. "This," he pointed to the wide and chockfull varieties of food and sweets, "is the best food, I bet, you've had in weeks. Eat up, Harry," he patted him on the back. "I will pester you and beat you to bloody pulp if you don't."

Harry grinned.

He went around, talking to the rest of the Gryffindors: Dean, Seamus and Neville. They were all so happy, asking about the battle and what else had happened.

"I heard," Seamus said, as he gave him a wink, "that there were sparks between you and a certain Gryffindor bookworm." Dean and Neville rolled their eyes, as they tried to drag him away from Harry. Harry stiffened at his question. "So? Was there?" he yelled, from across the room where they had hauled him off to. Harry flashed him a fake smile, before turning away, not feeling up to facing the rumors and reports about his love life.

He felt someone grab his arm, and found Ron at his side again, an armful of sweets and a butterbeer in one hand.

"George and Fred say hullo," he said, as they walked towards the couches. "They told me to tell you that they expect you to be stopping by soon—good for publicity and sales, you know, The Hero stopping by and being seen at their shop," Ron grinned. "Oh, and you know, congratulations."

Harry took a sip of his butterbeer, smiling.

"Alright then," Harry laughed. "Tell them thanks."

Ron nodded, stuffing another sweet in his mouth.

He looked around the room, people talking and laughing in their Gryffindor robes and uniforms. He smiled, before looking down at his butterbeer. He watched the cool liquid swirl in the mug, as he slowly rocked his wrist gently.

"Ron..." he said quietly. "You aren't... angry, with me, are you?" He looked up at him, as his ginger-haired friend looked at him and sighed, putting down his sweets, food, and butterbeer.

"Harry..." He raised his gaze to the room, and people. "We best go into the boy's dormitories if we're going to talk about this."

Harry nodded, picking up his butterbeer, and Ron picking up his as well.

They walked out of the common room, up the stairs, and into the dormitories. Ron shut the door, as Harry sat down silently on his bed. His trunk and things had been brought up, as he spotted Hedwig napping in her cage. He felt Ron sit beside him, and let out a sigh.

"Harry, mate... You're my best friend. Nothing can ever change that. But well, when you left, and you took Hermione, and not me... I felt like I wasn't wanted. That you needed Hermione more than you needed me, and I was bitter. I was angry."

"You have to understand, Ron," Harry said quietly. "She followed me out. She wouldn't let me go. I..."

"I get it, Harry," Ron said firmly, and that caused Harry to look up at his friend. Ron sighed again, standing up and running a hand through his hair.

"I get it. One night, I was thinking all about it... I felt like shouting, beating something. You left us. You left me. You took Hermione with you. No contact, no nothing. I was too angry to try to understand anything else. I was worried sick about you, mate. I didn't know... I didn't know if you were going to...die."

Harry nodded guiltily, lowering his gaze to his feet. "I'm sorry, Ron. I really am," Harry said. There were a few moments of silence, as Harry wondered what his friend could be thinking. Was he really still angry with him? What was going to happen?

But then he felt a heavy weight set down beside him.

"But Harry... Those days you were gone, you and Hermione... It made me think. It made me see. I replayed everything in my head, those times all three of us were together... And then I remembered that picture."

Harry looked up, confused and slightly fearful. He was confused as to where this was going. Ron was smiling at him.

"You left your trunk open one day, and I saw it. You and Hermione. Together," he chuckled softly. "When I first saw it, I thought nothing of it. I dismissed it. I was... rather daft, really, to what was staring me right in the face. I didn't see it. But then, thinking about you and Hermione... I finally realized it. It all added up. All those times, when I would catch you looking at her, and you were always the one to notice if there was anything wrong with her, you always tried to go with her every time she went to the library... You were... You were in love with her."

"Ron, I—"Harry started, but Ron cut him off.

"Harry, my feelings for our little bookworm are far gone, believe me when I tell you that," he laughed. Harry looked at him, relaxing a bit, as he felt strangely relieved. Ron continued, "But then I remembered Hermione. How I also caught her looking at you more than I would've cared to notice. How she would always worry about you and ask me about you. How she would always be the first one... to see, everything." His eyes flickered down guiltily.

"She told me, you know. She told me that she knew that you were going to leave. I didn't believe her at first, and I got angry with her because she insisted... I yelled at her," Ron said, solemnly. "I didn't want to believe her. I didn't want to know that she was right.

"But she was. She was right, in the end. And when you walked out that door, Harry... she went after you. She ran after you. She wasn't willing to let you go. And I... I just stood there, like an idiot—I didn't run after you, I didn't try to stop you. And I was furious at myself, because I should have." And suddenly, Ron looked up at him and smiled. It was not a big smile, or a very joyful one, but it was an honest one.

"And then it hit me. She loves you, Harry. As in more than a friend, as in more than best friends should. I was amazed at how clueless I had been, all this time, all the hints and the times I caught her looking at you... It's perfect," he said, not a drip of sarcasm or hate in his voice. His blue eyes were twinkling, grinning at Harry.

"My two best friends. In love with each other. Really, Harry. I'm not angry with you. Not anymore. You wanted to say goodbye to her. I understand. You didn't want to leave her behind."

Harry sighed, closing his eyes.

He was right. He had guessed, and he was right. But everything he said wasn't correct. No, it wasn't. He could feel the memories come rushing back, the pain and the hurt. The way her tears had soaked into his shirt and stuck to his skin. How he had tried to kiss them all away.

"I didn't," Harry whispered, his throat severing. "I didn't say goodbye to her, Ron. I left her behind." Silence engulfed them, before Ron spoke, just above a whisper.

"What?" he asked, confused.

Harry leaned his face into his hands. "I didn't say goodbye. I didn't tell her that I loved her when I left. She told me that she loved me... and I couldn't bear to, Ron. I couldn't tell her that I loved her too. I knew that I wasn't going to be able to let go, to leave and fight. So I just left. Without a word. I left," he paused, but Ron just stayed silent, looking at his weary-looking friend.

"And when I returned... You should've seen her, Ron. I hurt her. I hurt her so much. I hurt her so much that she..." Harry faltered in mid-sentence, shutting his eyes more tightly, his throat closing up. He swallowed hard and tried to keep going. "She didn't want to be with me. She doesn't want to be with me. I tried; I tried to talk to her, to ask her why, to make her understand... But she can't."

"Mate," Ron said quietly. "Hermione... she's... rather difficult, at times—"

"No, Ron," Harry cut him off. "I... I think—"

Just then, the door burst open. Harry's head bolted up from the sudden noise, as Ron's gaze also darted to the disturbance. Seamus and Neville were standing in the doorway, butterbeers in hand, grinning madly.

"Harry! Ron!" they said. "What in Merlin's name are you both doing up here? There's party downstairs—"

"In your honor, Harry," Neville added.

"—And you both should not be here, talking, or whatever it is you're doing! Ron! Dean just turned Parvati's hair putrid pink! Oh you need to—" Both of the boys burst into a fit of laughter.

Ron smiled as he sighed. "All right, all right, you two," Ron said, standing up. "And lay off those butterbeers, won't you? We don't want Dumbledore or any of the professors spotting you two drunks and giving us trouble, alright?"

"Right!" they both shouted, before running off. Ron turned to Harry, and flashed him a sympathetic grin.

"I'm sorry about those two," he said. "It seems like Neville and Seamus have turned into my brothers" – he grimaced – "which is nothing short of a shock when it comes to Neville... But, well, what can you do? People change. I guess Neville's just loosened up."

Harry nodded, also getting to his feet.

Ron sighed, looking at his friend. The Hero. The broken-hearted Hero.

His best friend.

"Harry," he said seriously, "I'm sorry. About you and Hermione. I really am. But I think it'll all work out. Hermione's a smart witch and I'm sure she still loves you. She doesn't just give her heart away so recklessly, you know."

Harry stayed silent, staring down at his feet, and then running a hand through his hair.

He didn't have the heart to tell Ron that he was so sick and tired of hearing that. That everything was going to be just fine, that he and Hermione were going to work things out. How, he wanted to know. He just wanted to know how.

He wasn't sure if he could believe such a thing anymore.

"We should get downstairs before someone worse comes in to look for us," Harry sighed, walking towards the door. Ron chuckled.

"I highly doubt there's another Gryffindor worse than those two when they're drunk," he laughed faintly.

ooooo

Dinner had been quite a surprise, as Harry, Hermione, and Ron had entered the Great Hall. The Hall had erupted with applause and cheers, as Harry looked around at the students, standing up and chanting his name. Their faces were bright, a wide smile spread across their faces, their hands clapping rapidly. Even the professors were standing, supporting the sudden applause and praise.

Harry had just smiled, feeling warmth blanket his cheeks, as he sat down beside Ron and Seamus. He looked at the staff table at the front of the Hall, and saw Dumbledore's deep blue eyes dancing. Dumbledore raised his glass to Harry, and Harry laughed, as he did the same.

"Harry... You know, my mum never answered any of my questions that I sent to her while you were away. She always sent me howlers, screaming at me to never write again, because she told me not to," Ron said, making a face as he dropped the roll onto his plate. "I'm guessing there had to be at least four, in all," he said. Harry heard Seamus laugh beside him.

"Oh, Harry, you should have been here," he said, laughing. "Those howlers... The look on Ron's face? Oh, if I could've brought you back here for that one moment, I would've. It was priceless, Harry, priceless. Poor Ron thought he was on fire for a second."

Harry laughed faintly, as Ron glared at Seamus. Neville nodded his head, agreeing, as Ron sent another death-glare his way.

"Merlin, Ron, don't get your knickers in a twist," Seamus shot back. "I was only joking."

"No, you were not!" Ron cried. A sly grin spread across Seamus's face.

"You're right," he grinned, and Ron threw his half-eaten roll at him. Seamus dodged it quickly, as it hit Neville square in the face. Ron was laughing so hard at the look on Neville's face that Harry had to hold on to him to prevent him from falling to the floor.

"Ron!" Neville said. "What was that for?"

"He didn't mean to, Neville," Harry said for Ron, for he knew that right at the moment Ron couldn't speak for anyone, even for himself. He was too busy laughing. "He meant to hit Seamus."

Of course, it didn't help that Seamus was laughing so hard that Harry thought he was literally going to die, also.

It was only minutes later that Harry realized that Hermione had been awfully quiet through the whole meal. He looked over at her, across the table, and he could feel himself stiffen at the sight. Uncertainty and worry coursed through him as he watched her.

Her face was white with horror, her eyes watery. She was trembling.

And in her hands, he was sure, was a newspaper article.

"Hermione?" he called out to her. "Are you alright?" The concern and alarm in his voice caused Ron and the other Gryffindors to look over. Hermione didn't answer. Harry shot a troubled glance at Ron, who gave one back in return.

"Hermione?" Ron asked. "What's that you're reading?"

Finally, she looked up, her deep brown eyes glossy, sad and hurt. Ginny, who was beside her, looked over at the article, and gave Harry and Ron a fearful and guilty look.

Without a word, Hermione dropped the article from her hands, stood up, and ran out of the hall.

The Hall had quieted, as Harry's calls after her echoed and broke through all the chatter and conversation. The other tables looked over, curious. Harry returned his gaze to over where Hermione had been sitting and saw that Ginny now had the newspaper in her hands.

"Harry," she said. "I don't think you should read this. It's—it's such rubbish. Oh Merlin, Hermione... What are we going to—"

"Ginny," Harry said firmly, in a serious tone that stated to her clearly that he was not to be messed with right at the moment, "give me the newspaper."

"But, Harry," she insisted.

"Harry--" Ron said, but Harry cut them off.

"I have a right to know. Give it to me. Right now." Ginny gave him a sad look as she handed it over. Harry read it over, Ron peering beside him. He could feel his blood boil and his grip tighten with every word that he read.

COLD-HEARTED MUGGLEBORN BEST FRIEND BREAKS HERO'S HEART.

Just two days ago, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter were seen outside Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions in Diagon Alley. Eyewitnesses speak out about the event, saying that Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born very close to Harry Potter, broke his heart without any mercy.

Hermione Granger is one of Harry Potter's two best friends, as the other is Ron Weasley. In the past she has been rumored to have an affair with both, each time cheating on them with other boys during their relationships. Hogwarts insiders have said that she was a harlot, a slut who played with boys' hearts and then destroyed them cruelly.

Eyewitnesses have said that at the scene, Harry Potter had been begging for her to reconsider their relationship, pleading for her to take him back. But the cold-blooded, pitiless witch did not pay any kindness at all to him at all.

"Poor boy," one witness spoke. "He yelled out that he loved her, that he would do anything for her, but she just turned away and ignored him. She's a heartless tramp, that's what she is. She doesn't deserve him."

"Harry Potter shouldn't waste his time on a sleazy scarlet woman like her," another witness says. "I don't know what he sees in her. She's not pretty, not even nice to look at."

"Hermione Granger is a Mudblood," another Hogwarts insider says. "I can't believe that Potter would go so low. Even if his expectations or tastes are utterly horrible, he must at least have some dignity or pride. He is a Pureblood."

"He doesn't need her. He deserves so much better. She needs to go back to the library where she belongs," a close friend says.

Harry Potter is the Hero of the wizarding world, defeating Voldemort. He has currently returned to Hogwarts, where he is to graduate this year, along with Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger.

Harry could feel anger and fury rise inside him as he looked at the picture placed above the article. It was them. At Diagon Alley. He couldn't believe how malicious and spiteful they could be... But he knew it. He had known it.

He had known that they would put something so wicked and cruel. And here it was, in his hands, on the front page. Lies, lies, lies. To break Hermione. To make people hate Hermione.

He was shaking with anger, as his fingers gripped the corners of the newspaper and tore it in half. He could feel every Gryffindor's eyes on him, silent. But he didn't care. He was too angry to care. He couldn't care.

The ripping sounds seemed to echo through their table, as the words chimed in his ears, making his hands work faster and faster, ripping and tearing with so much hate and rage. His breathing was heavy and hard, as he tore the paper into shreds. His jaw was set, his emerald eyes flashing dangerously. No one said a word, afraid and in shock. They had never seen him this way before. He had always been laughing in the past, smiling and being the sweet and charming boy that they knew and had grown so familiar to.

At that one moment, he knew what was coursing through their minds. He could feel it. And he knew it, as well.

He had changed.

He made sure the newspaper was destroyed, shredded into tiny pieces so that there was no way it could be mended or repaired. Inside, voices were shouting at him, ringing vindictively and swinging their fists in the air. His heart seemed to be turning cold, but burning with such intense and sharp fire. His chest seemed to be compressed, trying to hold back from yelling and shouting, from swearing at the world.

"Harry...mate, you heard Ginny, it's all rubbish. You know it is. Harry—"Ron started, trying to calm down his friend, but trying to compose himself in any way was far from his thoughts. He did not want to calm down. No, not this time. Too many times had they printed lies and false stories about his life, his friends. Too many times had they hurt the people around him.

All those times before, he had stayed calm, reassuring himself that they were all just bloody dimwits with no lives, which he guessed was enough reason for them to try to ruin his, and his friends'. He had stayed collected and cool, when he could.

He was tired of keeping it all inside. Of trying to remain calm. Of being made a fool of on the front pages and articles. Of their words attacking his friends. He was so bloody tired, so tired that he was angry, and he could not keep it bottled up inside any longer.

"Harry," Ron said quietly, "they don't know what they're talking about, just—" But Harry didn't stay to hear the rest. He had bolted up from his seat, and ran out. He burst through the Great Hall's doors, his breathing hard, tight, and ragged.

He could not hear the silence of the dark corridor, or see the reflecting and shiny floors. All he could hear was his heart's hammering beats, his breaths that made his body shake. His trembling hands were clenched into tight fists, his nails digging into his skin. He could feel the shooting pains from his palms, but all they seemed to do was fan the fire inside of him.

He hadn't heard the doors open again, but suddenly he saw Ron in front of him. Ron's once twinkling and joyful blue eyes were dark with worry.

"Harry, I understand you're angry, but please, you know that it's all trash! You know it! All your years here, they've always made up lies to put on the front page! Harry, I know you're still angry about—"

"They have no right!" Harry bellowed, his voice loud and livid. "They have no bloody right at all!"

"I know, I know, Harry," Ron said. "They're pigs, you know they are. Harry," Ron said, seeing his friend so enraged, "please, calm down." Ron put his hands on his shoulders, but Harry jerked away.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" he shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls and echoing. "Don't you bloody tell me to calm down! I can't calm down! I'm so tired of them attacking you and Hermione!"

"Harry—"

"They're trying to ruin her, Ron! I can't—I can't just let them harass her with their filthy stories! I can't just stand here and let them hurt her! I can't!"

"Harry, just let it go! Just let it go! You have to, Harry! This won't help! It won't help at all!"

But Harry continued, ignoring Ron's words. "They don't know anything! Anything at all! Lies, lies, and more lies!" he spat. "How could they say such things? How? About Hermione? How could they be so—"Ron watched, wide-eyed frozen with shock, as Harry turned and drove his fist right into the solid, firm, wall. Hard.

Ron didn't know what to do.

"I hate them!" Harry yelled, pulling back his fist again. "I hate them all! Damn them! Damn them all to hell!" He punched the wall again, as Ron heard a sickening and splintering crunch. But as Harry pulled his fist back again, Ron launched after him and caught his hand. Harry struggled against Ron, but Ron wouldn't let go. Ron grabbed both his wrists, and tried to make him listen.

"Don't do this, Harry," Ron said. "Don't do this to yourself! Don't let them get to you! Don't! You're doing exactly what they want you to do! Just stop it! It isn't worth it!"

"I don't care!" Harry shouted, trying to push Ron away. "I don't bloody care! I don't care if I am! They've won! They've won! They've finally made Harry Potter, The damn Hero lose his temper! They've finally succeeded!" Ron, his temper also rising, pushed Harry and pinned him against the wall.

"Mate, listen to me," Ron said, his voice dangerously low. "You don't want this. Don't lose it over this. Don't."

"Let go of me!" Harry yelled. "Let go of me!"

"No! Not until you swear to me that you'll calm down!"

"Ron, let—"Harry shoved him away with so much force, that Ron practically flew back. Ron made to tackle Harry, but he halted, watching his friend.

Harry stood there, breathing hard, his green eyes flashing. He staggered back against the wall, leaning his head back on the solid surface. His chest was heaving, pain shooting up his body, from his hands and knuckles. His head was pounding with a sharp ache, his lungs thirsting and his heart threatening to leap out.

Ron watched silently as Harry slowly slid down against the wall. His eyes were closed, his raven hair sticking up as much as before, covering his scar and forehead. Harry brought up his knees, and laid his head on them.

Just then, Ron noticed something on Harry's hands and knuckles. Ron looked at his own hands; fear and shock making his hard breaths cease in his throat.

His palms and fingers were coated with blood.

He looked back at Harry, his friend's hands bruised and bloody. He could see a wide, open and bleeding gash, wincing from the sight.

"Harry," Ron said, his voice quivering. "Harry... Your hands, Harry... Oh Merlin..."

Harry raised his head, and looked at his hands. His eyes didn't flicker with any bit of emotion, his expression unchanging. He looked at his hands like it was nothing unusual, as if it was common for knuckles to bleed. Ron walked over to him, worried for his friend. His blue eyes were dim with questions, shadowed with uncertainty.

"Harry, we best get you to the hospital wing... Madam Pomfrey's there... She wasn't at the staff table during supper..." Harry looked up at Ron, his eyes no longer filled with hate and vehemence, but were instead, as dark as he imagined hell must look like if it's flames were extinguished. They looked full, but vacant...

Ron had never, in his life, had seen his friend like this before.

And he was afraid. For Harry. He didn't know what had happened... He didn't know what could've happened...

But this wasn't the Harry he knew once before.

Ron offered him a hand, but Harry did not accept it, as he got up from the floor and they silently walked to the hospital wing.

oooo

Madam Pomfrey had indeed been inside the hospital wing, as Ron and Harry walked inside. She had stared at them in shock, and was in even more shock as Harry showed her his hands. She had asked them, her voice high from surprise, what had happened, as she fussed over Harry. Harry told her quietly that he had an accident.

Madam Pomfrey sent Harry a look that made it clear that she didn't believe him, and then also glared at Ron.

"Mr. Weasley," she had said. "You should be looking out for Mr. Potter."

Ron sighed, weary, collapsing. "Can't help it if the bloke's angry and strong," he muttered under his breath. Madam Pomfrey examined his hands, then looked up at Harry, the look in her eyes dark and knowing.

"You've split your knuckles," she said to him, her lips pressed into a straight line. "They're broken... practically crushed." She shook her head as she stood and made her way to get her potions and serums. "Wizards," she said. "One wonders what they could possibly find out of violence."

Ron sighed. "She probably thinks you and Malfoy had a brawl, and that you left your wand somewhere, therefore getting bloody with your fists instead. I swear," he said, shaking his head. "That woman's always got to put some blame on me, even though all I tried to do was stop you." He grinned at Harry, faintly. "Though, you've gotten pretty damn strong, Harry."

Madam Pomfrey came back, bottles following after her in mid-air. They set themselves down on the table neatly, as she took Harry's hands. She cleaned them up, wiping off the blood, and made him drink some potions that tasted like gutter water. Harry made a face, trying to gulp it down. It burned in his throat.

"Oh, honestly, Mr. Potter," she snapped. "You get yourself into this mess, and you expect something sweet?" Ron shot her a look as she bandaged Harry's hands. "You'll stay here tonight," she said, standing up. "I don't want to see you coming back here again with another injury. Especially when the ball is tomorrow," she said, and then walked away.

"Oh, mate," Ron groaned. "I'd love to sneak you out, but... She's been keeping a sharp eye on me ever since..." he flushed, "well... She obviously thinks it's all my fault you're here."

Harry managed a smile. "That's alright, Ron."

"Listen, about Hermione..."

Harry looked down at his bandaged hands. "Ron... Forget about it. I have a feeling... She's not going to want to talk to me, just yet."

"But Harry, you're underestimating our dear Hermione! She's reasonable..." Harry shot him a look. "... Most of the time. But, Harry... Just hear me out, won't you? I'm sure she'll want to talk to you. She loves you, Harry—"

"Ron," he said warningly.

Ron shook his head, standing up. "Look, Seamus told me that you and Hermione were supposed to have that Honor dance together, and you're not going to have fun if you're not talking to each other, are you? Exactly!"

Harry's eyes narrowed at him. "How did you know—"

"Seamus overheard Dumbledore," he explained. "So, I'll be back with Hermione, okay?"

Ron turned and started towards the doors.

"Ron, No!"

"Don't mess yourself up too bad while I'm away!" he said, as he walked out.

Harry sighed, closing his eyes. He had a very, very bad feeling about all of this.

ooo

The door opened, ten minutes later, and Harry sat up, expecting it to be Hermione and Ron, but couldn't help but feel slight disappointment when he saw that it was Ginny.

He smiled faintly at her. "Hey, Ginny."

"Harry," she smiled. She took a seat beside him, and let out a sigh. "I—I'm sorry. About the article. I didn't mean—"

"It's okay," he said to her. "It's not your fault."

"No, but Harry, I had the article. And then, Hermione saw it and she... I'm so sorry, Harry. I can't believe..."

"Ginny," he said, not feeling up to talking about what had happened. "I don't really... I don't feel like talking about it, right now."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

Harry smiled at her. He watched as she looked down at his hands, and gasped.

"Harry! What happened? I mean, Ron told me, but—"

"I split my knuckles," he said, looking down at his hands. "I... Well, stupid thing to do, really, but I drove my fist into the wall. It seems... When you're angry, you don't really think clearly."

Ginny let out a small laugh. "I see."

After, an awkward silence engulfed the both of them, not certain what to say. Finally, Harry spoke.

"Ginny... I wanted to thank you. For that picture that you took of me and Hermione..."

Ginny smiled.

"Oh, Harry," she said. "That was such a sweet picture... You don't need to thank me. I mean, you and Hermione... You two looked so adorable together."

Harry smiled faintly, looking down. The odd silence arrived again. He was looking over at the doors, wishing that Ron would hurry with Hermione, before he turned to Ginny once again. He was aware of how close their faces seemed to be, just now.

He opened his mouth to say something, but his words were stifled, as her mouth came crashing onto his. His body stiffened, frozen from shock.

He didn't know what to do. He was yelling at his body to push her away, right this instant. The voices in his head were screaming at him again, roaring, but his body was unmoving and still.

Just then, he heard the doors open, and voices enter the room. It all happened so quickly in his eyes, as Ginny had pulled back before he could push her away, her eyes wide from her actions and at the sight of the two people who had entered the room.

Harry's heart stopped, the deafening and horrible silence throbbing in the room.

There, standing at the foot of his bed, was Ron and Hermione.

Their faces were pale, eyes wide with surprise. But his heart broke, as he saw hurt glaze over Hermione's eyes.

"Hermione," he cried hoarsely, "Hermione, this isn't—"

But she had already turned and run out of the infirmary, before any more words could escape his mouth. Without another single thought, he bolted from his bed, swinging his legs over and running after her. He dashed out into the corridor as he saw Hermione's retreating back. He ran faster, his long legs giving him an advantage.

"Hermione!" he called out. "Hermione! Wait! Stop, Hermione! Hermione!" he shouted. But she would not halt. She kept running, but he was catching up to her.

It was obvious that she did not want to listen to what he had to say.

But he didn't care.

He was going to make her listen.

"Hermione!" he shouted. "Please, Hermione! Stop!" He willed his legs to go faster, and soon he had dashed past her, turning and halting right in front of her so rapidly that she crashed into him. He held her to him, his hands on her shoulders, gripping her tightly. He could feel his palms burn beneath the bandages, as he could feel her warmth course through him, spreading into his skin. He could feel her trembling, her breaths so hard and rapid that her body shook with every breath she let out.

She made to push away from him, her face digging into his chest, but he would not let her go.

"Hermione, please," he said to her. "Please. Just let me explain."

She struggled harder, her cries stifled as she tried to push him away. He whispered her name again, determined to make her listen.

Just then, she stopped. Her body was completely still, but he could still her breaths through his shirt. He could feel her tears on his skin, soaking through the fabric.

He sighed softly, before stepping back once, so that he could see her face.

"Hermione," he said quietly. "Listen to me. Please." She looked up at him, before raising her hands and hastily swiping away her tears with her fingers. "What happened, back there, with me and Ginny... It isn't—it isn't what you think."

"It... I don't—"she started, but Harry cut her off.

"Hermione, it was no—"

"No, Harry!" she said, jerking away from his grasp. He stared at her. She raised her hands again to wipe away her tears.

"Harry," she said, her voice quivering. "You don't...you don't have to explain. You really don't. It... it doesn't matter." She bit her lip and looked away, at the dark wall beside her, as more tears leaked out. Harry noticed that with every word that she had forced from her mouth, it seemed to be tearing her up inside brutally. She held herself, and Harry felt his heart thrash about, but he let it go.

He didn't understand why he didn't fight, why he didn't fight for her... But right now, it seemed useless. That look in her eyes, the way her voice was so shaky he knew she was on the brink of fresh tears... He was not sure if he could fight, anymore. He was not sure if she wanted him to.

"I—I don't even know," she raised her sleeve and wiped away her tears harshly, "why I'm like this. Crying. I don't even know why I still feel it. Merlin, I'm so pathetic," she said, more tears slipping from her eyes.

"No, Hermione, you're not," he said softly.

"It shouldn't matter," she said, holding herself tighter. "It shouldn't matter. We're not together anymore. We've never been. It shouldn't matter to me anymore." Harry felt his throat tighten, hearing those words. Her words rang in his ears, stinging him venomously. He felt like insisting, he felt like trying to make her understand again... But as he watched her again, silence separating them and their thoughts, contact, he felt as if his body was drained of energy. He felt so defeated. He felt so empty, so heavy. So weak.

"I didn't kiss her," he whispered. "I didn't. You have to know that."

She still didn't meet his gaze, as she closed her eyes and more tears slipped out.

"Harry, you—you don't have to... I... It doesn't—" Every word pained her, he knew, as he watched her struggle to say them.

"You have to understand, Hermione. You have to believe me."

But she went on, as if she hadn't heard him at all. "It shouldn't matter," she whispered to herself, crying silently. "It shouldn't."

Harry swallowed hard. "It shouldn't matter," he repeated quietly, after her. "But does it, Hermione? Does it matter? Does it matter to you?"

He waited for her to answer, as she silently wept.

"I don't know, Harry. I don't know," she whispered, barely audible, through her tears. Harry stepped towards her, feeling his heart slowly being torn to pieces, seeing her this way. When she didn't back away, he kept walking towards her, until he was close enough to wrap his arms around her.

This time, she did not struggle, or try to push him away.

She let him hold her.

She cried onto his chest, as he held her tightly, closing his eyes.

"Harry..." he heard her whisper, "I just want you to be happy... to be safe... I can't... I don't know what to do..."Suddenly, he heard a loud bang, from behind them. Immediately, he recognized the sound. It was the hospital wing's doors.

"Harry Potter!" he heard someone shriek. "Mr. Potter, get back in the infirmary this instant!" His eyes bolted open, as Hermione's sobs halted and she stiffened in his arms. She twisted away from his grasp.

"Hermione, wait," he said hoarsely, as he tried to catch her hand, but she was already gone.

He stared after her, his heart splitting rapidly and his pulse throbbing, the icy air biting at his skin. Her remaining tears stung on his skin. He watched her disappear until he could no longer hear her echoing footsteps.

He turned and walked back towards the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey gave him a withering glare as she scolded him and he walked inside.

He walked blindly, not hearing any of the words that came out of her mouth, as he sat down on his bed.

His world was spinning, and in his ears there was a white noise that bellowed and drowned everything out.