A/N: ...I still have no readers, reviewers, or raters. I am very depressed. Even so, I'm going to be nice and give you a long chapter even though this specified 'you' does not EXIST, for in fact, I am talking to ME as I am the only one who reads my story grumbles something angrily. Anyways, here it is. Hopefully someone will read it and enjoy other than myself. Hmph.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

Chapter 6: Aboard the Hogwarts Express

When Harry hit the ground, he realized that he was back at the park, and that the sun had just set for the second time that... night? Harry didn't try thinking about it, as his head was spinning enough as it was from the portkey. Hagrid picked him up and set his feet on the ground.

"Thanks, Hagrid." Harry said, laughing. "I've never been too good with portkey landings..." At that thought, Harry's heart seemed to drop into the pit of his stomach. Cedric... Hagrid noticed his change of face and patted him on the back, sending Harry to his knees. Harry stood up slowly and looked up at Hagrid.

"It wasn' your fault, Harry. It wasn' your fault." Harry nodded.

"I know... But I can't help feeling guilty that I got out and he didn't." Hagrid smiled at him.

"It'll get better, trust me, Harry. It gets better. In the mean time, you might wanna get home before the muggles get too upset, right?" Harry nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow." Harry began walking back towards the Dursley's when he heard Hagrid call him back. "By the way Harry, happy birthday." He pulled out a thick wad of letters, most in Ron Weasley's untidy scrawl and Hermione Granger's tiny, neat handwriting, a large birthday cake, and several wrapped packages. He handed them to Harry and smiled. "Go on home, now." Hagrid pulled an enormous motorbike out from behind the bushes, revved it up, and took off on the street, grumbling loudly. As Harry watched, it began to—Harry grinned—fly. With that, Harry continued to walk home and got there surprisingly quickly, even covered by so many packages.

"Where have you been all day?" His uncle asked as he walked through the door.

"America." Harry answered shortly and walked up to his bedroom, leaving his uncle standing there, flabbergasted. Harry dumped the pile of objects onto his bed and began tearing open the letters.

"Don't you lie to me, boy!" Uncle Vernon yelled and he ran up the stairs and forced the door open. "Where have you been?" Harry forced down a smile and stared up at his uncle almost defiantly.

"Like I said, America. In a small town called 'Scottsdale', I believe." Harry said innocently. Uncle Vernon's mustache bristled and his face swelled slightly, turning a plum purple.

"Now you listen to me, boy! I want the truth!"

"And I've given you the truth, twice already! So if you don't mind, I have some letters to read and a few presents to open." Harry pulled out one by Ron, dating back to the third of July.

Dear Harry,

Dad says that you're still with the muggles. How're they treating you? Better be good because I hear Moody's dying to hex at least one of them, and you know how Moody hexes... If he weren't good, he wouldn't be an Auror!

Have you gotten your O.W.L. results back yet? Mine haven't come back, but Hermione's have and she's giving me a headache with all of her gloating. If she didn't know twice as many curses and counter curses as I did, I'd have hexed her just to get her to shut up for a little while. She got all E's and O's, and it's enough to make me sick. Mum's been boasting about her as well to all who haven't heard, which is a grand total of NO ONE, these days.

No one will tell us what's going on in the Order, but we do know about a new mission they're setting up. It's really secret; they're not telling a soul about it. All I know is that Hagrid's going to be in it, and it's going to be such a trip, they're using portkeys! Thanks to Fred and George's Extendable Ears, we do know that they're watching something or someone, and due to the sensitivity of whoever it is and the secrecy of the mission, they aren't allowed to apparate there. That's all we know, though, seeing as how mum caught us then and hauled us back to our rooms to give us a good talking to.

At the moment, yes, we're at Sirius' house, and it's actually looking quite nice, now, but empty. It seems a bit lonely... How are you holding up, mate? Don't let it get to you, and I hope to see you soon—

Ron

Harry smiled sadly to himself and opened another, dating to July 5.

Dear Harry,

How are you? I'm doing very well myself. All O's and E's for me! Have you gotten your results back? I expected to do well, but not this well! Ron said he's already told you my scores, but I figured I might as well tell you myself. Ron's scores came today and he didn't do quite as well as he expected to, but he still did much better than either Fred or George did, which makes Mrs. Weasley feel much better.

It's really weird being back at Sirius' house; I honestly don't know how much longer I can stand it. I wish you were here, it just doesn't feel right without you?

Have you heard about the mission? I wonder what they're guarding—I know it can't be you, because it's so low profile, I doubt even You-Know-Who knows what it is. Ron's probably told you all about that too—is there anything he hasn't told you? I very much doubt that.

Love,

Hermione

A small smile lit Harry's face at knowing that he was slightly part of the Order. Maybe not a full member yet, but he was important enough to get to take on a mission of importance. He wondered how Willow was doing and smiled, almost embarrassed, at the memory of holding her all night. The same butterflies were in his stomach as the ones that used to flutter every time he saw Cho Chang, his former crush and girlfriend.

.

Harry had come to enjoy visiting Willow, though he never spoke to her face to face. Every day, he'd meet Hagrid early in the morning by the park, and, using the portkey, would go back to "Willow's Grove", as Harry had begun calling it. There, he'd watch Willow do silly tricks, like handstands and round-offs, as well as flips. She'd climb up trees and hang upside down on the branches, giggling to herself, before swinging down so only her hands would be holding the branch, and she'd swing around the branch in a circle, legs pointed up and straight, and she'd swing off, flipping, and land perfectly on the ground. Each time, Harry would tense as she flipped, afraid she'd hurt herself by landing wrong. It amazed Harry; she must've been a gymnast at her school. But then, even though she wasn't very tall, she wasn't short enough to be one. Whenever she got really bored or tired, she pulled out her acoustic guitar and would start playing something. Every day was a new tune, and they were always perfect. In the night, she'd start talking to herself and point out something new about her surroundings, something she hadn't noticed before. Then, she'd fall asleep, freezing in the cold, and every night Harry would lay with her underneath Hagrid's huge coat. In the morning, with increasing difficulty, he'd untangle her arms from around his waist, neck, or back, and take the coat with him. Every morning, she'd wake up as soon as he left, look around for him, and sigh in annoyance at losing him once again.

Finally, September 1st came, and Harry found himself back at Kings Cross Station, leaning up against the barrier between Platform 9 and Platform 10. Checking around to make sure that no one was looking, he slid through the barrier, dragging his things with him.

"Harry!" He heard a familiar voice call. "Harry, over here!" He turned to find Ron Weasley waving at him frantically over by the train. It was hard to miss him; it appeared that Ron had grown more than a few inches over the summer, so he was even more tall and gangly than usual. He had a long nose, a very freckled face, and flaming red hair. His sister, Ginny, with her own head of flaming red hair, was standing beside Ron, waving at Harry as well.

"Come on, Harry!" She hollered. "The train is going to be leaving any minute!" Harry rushed over, pushing through the throng of people, and found himself at their side. "Hermione's saving us a seat, let's find her!" They clambered on to the train and went looking in each compartment until they found Hermione, nose buried in a new book called, "Ministry of Magic: Law Makers Or Slave Drivers?" Harry stifled back a laugh; she was researching the enslavement of the House Elves (who actually liked being enslaved, oddly enough) for S.P.E.W., The Society of the Promotion of Elfish Welfare (a sort of... club she started). Harry and Ron thought she was bonkers, as did everyone else who had her collecting tin shoved under their nose, but they all loved her and put up with her.

"How was your summer, Harry?" Hermione asked, finally looking up from the pages of her beloved book. Hermione had grown little over the summer, still only reaching to about his chest, but at least her hair had finally tamed. No longer a bushy mess, her chestnut brown hair now cascaded down her back in thick (but tame) curls. Her brown eyes regarded him kindly, an almost maternal glow about them as she gazed at him. She looked a bit nervous, but Harry didn't try to soothe her with his answer. Instead, he just shrugged. "Wasn't there anything interesting about it?" She asked, a little more nervously.

"No, it was the same as always. What about yours?" Harry stared at her intently and watched her face soften. He saw her blink back fresh tears and she regarded him a little stiffly.

"It was lonely, very lonely, especially with the absence of your return letters, Harry." She said very pointedly. He sighed, almost dejectedly.

"Sorry about that. I didn't receive the letters until a couple of weeks ago, and even when I did, the Order told me that 'it was in my best interest not to reply.'" Ron turned and gazed at him questioningly.

"When did you get visits from the Order?" His brown eyes looked at him suspiciously, and Harry quickly came up with a lie.

"Just when I received the letters." He said, telling a half-truth. Ginny looked up at him and smiled weakly.

"How was America?" She asked softly. Harry's head shot up and stared at her, almost furiously. He quickly calmed and forced out a weak laugh.

"What are you talking about?" He smiled at them. "I've never been to America. The furthest from home I've ever been was to Hogwarts, or maybe to that little rock island just before my first year..." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. The three of them glared at him just before Ron opened his mouth.

"We're not stupid, Harry." Harry looked up at him, anger flickering into his gaze.

"I never said that you were, Ron." Harry said, annoyed. Hermione sighed exasperatedly.

"Honestly, Harry, did you honestly think that we wouldn't find out? It doesn't take extendable ears to hear everything that goes on in Sirius' old house." Harry felt a pang of anger and hurt, just at the mention of Sirius' name. He blinked back hot tears and turned away from them all. My fault... it was all my fault...

"Harry?" He heard Ginny say softly. He felt her hand on his shoulder, but he jerked it away and curled up into a miserable ball. "Please don't blame yourself for what happened; we're sorry we brought it up." If only I had studied harder... if I had tried to block out those damn dreams... A tear slid down Harry's cheek and landed on his left shoe. And they expect me to save the world... how can anyone expect me, a stupid sixteen year-old boy, to save the world? It's not fair... I don't have my parents, I don't have Sirius, and I don't have a life of my own; just a bunch of stupid prophecies. It's not fair! Harry sniffed angrily and banged his head softly on the compartment door.

"Harry?" He heard Ron ask, tentatively. Wiping at his cheek, he sat up and stared at them, defiantly.

"What?" He asked coldly. Ron shifted uncomfortably, and Harry saw both Ginny and Hermione wince slightly.

"Um, could you... I mean, would it be possible... oh alright, will you please tell us why you were in America?" Harry sighed, even more annoyed. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all stared at him worriedly.

"I was... taking care of something. Watching over something. Guarding it, I suppose..." He said shortly, not looking at any of them. Hermione cleared her throat before speaking.

"What were you guarding?" She asked hesitantly. When he didn't answer, she let out a strangled cry, caught between exasperation and curiosity. "Harry, we've never hidden anything from you! Please, we won't tell anyone, anyone at all!" She pulled out her wand and Harry threw his arms over his face as a shield, but then she muttered the Silencing charm to keep eavesdroppers from listening at the door instead. "No one can hear you except for us, Harry." Harry rolled his eyes.

"A girl." He said simply. They all stared at him.

"That's all? Just a girl?" Ron asked.

"Nothing special about her at all?" Ginny's voice shook with curiosity.

"Why does it matter? Now you know what I was taking care of." Harry said sharply. Ron and Ginny flinched, but Hermione glowered at him.

"Stop taking that tone with us, Harry Potter. We've been nothing but loyal friends to you, so quit treating us like we're in a war against you." Harry hesitated, and finally nodded.

"Her name is Willow." He said softly. "She's half werewolf." They all gasped and stared at him in shock.

"Why, there hasn't been a half wolf in well over 300 years!" Hermione exclaimed. Harry nodded. "Who would be willing to take the risk of having a child with a werewolf?"

"Willow's mother, Moira." Harry said, staring at his feet. Ron nudged him and he looked up. "She's really beautiful, you know." He said to himself, even more softly. "Absolutely lovely." Ron let out a loud laugh, and the girls exchanged grins. Harry stared at Ron angrily. "What?" Ron let out another hoot of laughter before calming down enough to answer him.

"You like her!"

"I do not!" Harry retorted, his eyes flashing.

"Fine then, describe her for us." Hermione said with her arms crossed at her chest, the corners of her mouth twitching into a small smile.

"Well, she has long, straight, perfectly beautiful black hair—same color as mine, but it isn't at all messy—and these absolutely gorgeous, angelic green eyes as bright as mine! Willow... her face is marvelous, including those full, red lips, but her body...oh God, it's perfect, it's..." He stopped abruptly, blushing. Stuttering, he switched the topic away from her body. "And she's incredible at the guitar—I mean, you won't believe it! The one thing I can think when listening to her play is 'wicked', because she's wicked awesome! Her voice is spectacular... it's like... it's like oxygen, her voice and her guitar; you have to keep listening, you can't let it stop otherwise you just... choke..." His voice faded and he began to blush even more horribly than before. Hermione, Ginny, and Ron burst out laughing and Harry glowered at them, still red in the face. "What?"

"You make her sound like a goddess!" Ginny gasped out, still laughing. "As if she's absolutely perfect!"

"But she's not! No one's perfect!" Harry shot back, trying to hold onto the last of his dignity.

"Oh yeah? Then what's wrong with her?" Ron laughed.

"She's a bitter person, alright?" They quieted down. "Willow's a very angry, bitter person because of her past." He leaned his head up against the compartment door. "She's so lonely, you know?" Harry whispered. "Her father had to leave when she was 5 because as a werewolf, he tried to kill her." The other three gasped and listened to Harry intently, horrified expressions on their faces. "He broke free from his chains and she had to run into the woods until she believed he was okay to be around. He left, not much later. Willow convinced herself that it was her fault and so she believes herself to be unlovable." He heaved out a great sigh. "Her mother doesn't pay much attention to her, always focusing on her new husband, Ren. Willow hates Ren, and because she doesn't get paid attention to (except for negative attention), she stays in her secret spot all day and usually, all night." Hermione and Ginny looked at him sorrowfully while Ron stared at his feet, a mixture of disgust and shock on his face. "She talks to herself, a lot." Harry said thoughtfully. "It's quite interesting and sad, really. She just voices her opinions and thoughts out loud, rather than just... thinking them. The first time I went to watch over her, she was complaining that her mother said that she didn't know what love was. After she played a rather beautiful song, she started screaming and yelling about how unfair it was that her father left." He closed his eyes remembering the pain and anger on her face. "She started crying, saying that her mother doesn't love her and that her father didn't either... she-she cried herself to sleep." Harry squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

"That's horrible..." Ginny said softly. Harry nodded glumly, opening his eyes.

"She's just a girl who has never experienced love..." He said softly. They all stared at him. "It just seems so familiar, doesn't it?" He asked them. "No love in her childhood, no love in mine? Rough times ahead for her, rough times ahead for me? It just... maybe I'm looking for some sort of connection, I don't know..." Hermione smiled at him.

"That just means that you like her. You want to find some common ground; that's natural. You want to identify feelings and thoughts with her, and that just means that you want to understand her and yourself a little better." Harry stared at Hermione, bewildered. While Hermione sighed in frustration, Ginny giggled.

"What she's trying to say," Ginny said, smiling at him. "Is that—without realizing it—you're trying to find things that you have in common with her; almost like trying to find more reasons why you would make a good couple..." She giggled again and Ron burst out laughing, finally breaking from the trance of him staring at his shoes, upset.

"I am not!" Harry said indignantly, which only made Hermione laugh as well.

"Harry, you are. It's cute, really it is; it just means that you really, really like her." She tilted her head to the side and stared at him thoughtfully. "When will you see her again?" Ron smirked at him and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Tonight." Ginny and Hermione smiled at him secretively while Ron just clapped him on the back.

"Well, you go get her, mate!" He grinned cheekily at him.

"But I haven't even talked to her yet." Harry said pointedly. "I'm not allowed to. She's not even supposed to see me or know I'm there!" Hermione looked at him, confused.

"But Harry, surely she knows that someone's been watching her. She's a half wolf; she can smell and hear you."

"No, she can't. Her father took away her powers and her half wolf blood just before he left, using ancient magic. But very soon, he's going to release the powers back to her, even though it'll kill him in the process. According to Hagrid--" Hermione let out a cry like a startled animal.

"Hagrid's a part of this?" She squawked. "That's ridiculous! She could see him through the trees or over the trees, for goodness sake! How could Dumbledore make such a stupid move?"

"She hasn't seen him yet, Hermione; he's been doing a very good job at staying hidden. I've pretty much had to do all of the dirty work." He immediately regretted what he had said, because instantaneously, they all began asking him what he meant by that. "Well—well, you know, following her when she leaves her secret place, keeping her warm while she sleeps--"

"What?!" They all exclaimed at once. Harry sighed.

"It's much colder towards the top of a mountain than it is on level ground, and she spends her nights out in the freezing cold. Hagrid's coat isn't enough, so Hagrid makes me hold her while she sleeps." Ron grinned at him slyly while Ginny cooed about how romantic it was. Hermione was smiling to herself.

"Yes, and that would work perfectly, wouldn't it?" She said to herself.

"What would?"

"While she no longer has the ability to transform into a wolf or take on most of the half wolf traits, she would be a deep sleeper, wouldn't she? And while she may crave love and attention, she does prefer to be alone, does she not? She's also very paranoid about her parents not loving her... Yes, yes that makes perfect sense." She smiled triumphantly at nothing and then looked at Ron, who was still grinning at Harry.

"What?" Harry asked, exasperated.

"Are you warm when you're holding her?" He asked.

"Of course; we are both underneath Hagrid's coat, after all. Besides that, body heat is... well, quite warm." He said, shrugging uncomfortably. Harry smiled to himself. "She's really funny when it comes time for me to leave her. She never wants to let me go! She just keeps clinging onto me for dear life, always muttering about not wanting to be alone anymore and about how good I smell." He flushed at the last part; he didn't mean to say it, it just sort of... slipped out. While Ron and Ginny grinned, Hermione just sat there, elbow resting on her knee, head rested on her hand, and her fingers drumming the side of her face.

"Well, that would also make sense, Harry."

"How?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"A half wolf's sense of smell is the strongest of their five senses. With it, they can smell more than just lilacs and garbage miles away; they can smell good and evil, emotions, personality traits and disorders, and they never forget your scent. Willow may not have that kind of strength with her sense of smell, but she can still sense those sorts of things when you're up close to her. She must like your smell, Harry, whatever it is. It probably comforts her, if she never wants to let you go." Harry flushed an even deeper red, but Ron patted him on the back.

"I uh... I think I'll go buy some food..." Harry stuttered.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, with simple fun from jabs about Harry and Willow to other hinted accusations of a relationship between Hermione and Ron. Luckily, there were no run-ins with Draco Malfoy, Harry's archrival, so Harry spent the trip to Hogwarts smiling and having a relatively good time.

Hogwarts looked the exact same as it had the year before, as it did every year. The portraits still waved at Harry jauntily, the suits of armor were still quite dirty, and the Welcoming Feast in the Great Hall was as impressive as ever. Harry looked up at the staff table, and to his joy, spotted Professor Lupin sitting between Hagrid and Professor Vector. "Look Hermione, Ron, it's Lupin!" Professor Lupin spotted them and waved at them, pausing to give Harry a sympathetic smile. Harry nodded feebly in return and noticed, much to his displeasure, that Professor Snape was still there. He shot Harry a particularly nasty look before returning to his dinner. Harry rolled his eyes and ate in silence, laughing every once in a while at a comment Hermione or Ron made.

"Harry!" He heard Hagrid call. He looked up and saw him grasping an old leather boot in one of his trashcan-lid sized hands. "Come on!" Harry nodded, grinned at his friends, and walked up to meet him. "We'd best be going outside, Harry." Harry nodded absently as they walked out of the Great Hall. "Take one end of it, tha's right... okay in 3...2...1..."

Harry landed with a thud, but this time he wasn't in the forest. In fact, he wasn't anywhere woodsy at all. He was standing outside of a school building next to a window. He peeked inside and spotted Willow sitting somewhere towards the back. She was staring determinedly at the teacher, ignoring the guys throwing paper airplanes at the back of her head. When one blew a spitball at her, she finally stood up. Harry expected her to yell or scream or do something, but all she did was walk up to the teacher, request a hall pass, and leave.

"Harry, cast a disillusionment charm on yourself and follow 'er!" Hagrid said from behind him. Harry nodded, pulled out his wand, and cast it. He calmly walked to the front of the school, pushed open the doors, and ran in, searching for Willow. As he turned around a corner, he saw her disappear through a doorway on the right side of the hall. He followed quietly and stepped inside of the girl's lavatory. He almost left, embarrassed, when he saw her sitting against the opposite wall, crying. Harry restrained himself from reaching out to her and pulling her into his arms and kissing her tears away. Just the image sent him blushing (or he would have been, if not for the spell).

"Why do I let them get to me?" She mused. Her lips were pursed together tightly and her eyes leaked out tears of disappointment. She sniffed and wiped them away quickly. "Don't be a baby, it's not like this treatment is new! Only two more years... and then I'm moving as far from here as I can get. And if I can't wait two years, I'll just kill myself. Simple enough." Harry stared at her in shock. Kill herself? If that was a joke, it was a very bad one. If she was serious... He shuddered. Harry took a few steps closer, nearly failing to restrain himself from grabbing a hold of her and shaking her until she forgot these ridiculous ideas. She stopped moving and closed her eyes in deep concentration. "I know that smell..." She said softly. "You're here, aren't you?" Willow looked around the bathroom and her eyes settled on a spot near him. Her eyes narrowed. "I know you're in here. Please come out, please." After a minute or two, she heaved a sigh of disappointment. "I wish I could at least see my guardian angel... The one who has been watching over me and taking care of me this past month." She stomped her foot angrily and blew her hair out of her face. "I know you're in here, angel! I know that smell... that's the smell of the one who has held me as I slept every single night! The one who has been watching me, making sure that I was safe!" When she still got no answer, she kicked the wall so hard that she stumbled back, clutching her foot in pain. "Ow..." She muttered, annoyed. She heaved another sigh of sadness. "It's all in my head, then." She said softly. "My angel was just a character my mind projected to comfort me. Even now, it's all fake..." She wiped at the tears that slid slowly down her face. Willow inspected herself in the mirror and walked out of the bathroom. He followed her as she walked down the hall back into her classroom. He slid in behind her as the door shut.

We've become careless, Harry thought to himself. Maybe... maybe I could erase bits of those memories. Otherwise, Dumbledore probably won't let us come back, Harry thought sadly. He pulled wand out of his pocket, pointed it at Willow, and muttered, "Obliviate." Her eyes widened at first, but then her eyelids drooped almost sleepily and she stared straight ahead, a small dreamy smile on her face. Harry felt her memories rushing through his head, as though he had performed Legilimancy on her, but this time, they whipped by too fast to actually see what was going on. He willed it to slow down and focused on the nights when he slept by her side. He erased the feeling of him holding her, as well as the suspicions she had about someone being there. Harry allowed himself to drift for a moment into her memories...

Five year old Willow was sprinting through the forest as heavy breathing and snarls pursued her. FLASH. –Willow sobbing against the large weeping willow by the stream just after her father had left her. FLASH –Boys were throwing rocks at her at recess, as girls were yelling "witch!" at her, and the playground teachers just watched, smirking for a few minutes before breaking it up. "Why does everyone hate me so much?" 9 year-old Willow asked quietly, her lip bleeding from being shoved to the ground. She was sporting a black eye, and other bruises were just starting to form. FLASH. –"Go to your room, Willow En!" Moira yelled. Scowling, a 13 year-old Willow walked to her room, slammed the door, locked it, and, grabbing her acoustic guitar, she sneaked out of the window. She sprinted into the forest, hurtling over all of the obstacles when she slipped while climbing up the tree. She fell down into the sticker bushes, face turned away and her hands breaking the fall. She was bleeding horribly, and the sticker bushes nearly went through her hands, leaving deep gouges and blood dripping off of her hand. Slowly, she climbed her way out and to her secret place. She rubbed her hands on the grass irritably, yelping in pain, and then quieted, staring at the sky. Harry could feel all of her emotions just... switch off, and could feel the pain in her hand and her head ebb slightly, but both still throbbed. "Just breathe..." She said softly. "It doesn't even hurt anymore... and it's not like anyone ever loved me anyway... does it even exist?" FLASH.

--"Stop talking that way... it scares me; you sound suicidal, almost..." Moira said softly.

"I'm not suicidal; I just don't care." Willow retorted, her voice monotonous and dull.

"You can't push everything away, Willow! You have to let yourself feel once in a while or you'll wake up one day and find yourself to be a bitter old woman... you have to let people in." Moira almost begged.

"You let Father in. He hurt you." Willow whispered, smirking. Moira's eyes lit up in anger.

"Yes, I let your father in, he left me, and I got stuck with you." Moira said, a muscle in her left cheek twitching a little. No response from Willow. "Don't you have anything to say to that? Aren't you angry?"

"No." She said in that still dull toned voice.

"You can't tell me that didn't hurt you." Moira said, her eyes betraying the hurt she was feeling.

"Yes I can; it didn't." Willow seemed to be mocking her, and Moira's brow crinkled and she frowned.

"How can you just turn off your emotions like that? How can you let what people say just... disappear?"

"It's easy. I just don't care. It really doesn't matter." Willow walked towards the forest but stopped dead in her tracks when her mother began to yell at her from across the way.

"It'll be your downfall, Willow! Apathy will kill you! It'll suck the life right out of you, leaving you an empty, soulless shell! To live is to feel! You will die knowing nothing of life, and you'll regret it! You'll wish you had died young rather than feel that pain!" Willow whirled around dangerously, and Harry could sense her anger, though Moira could not.

"I am an observer. To observe doesn't take emotion. The more you let emotions out, the more they get in the way of observing. I take in the world with every breath and sigh I make while you..." Willow laughed darkly. "You never stop to record it all in your head. You forget all of the simple moments in life, only remembering the times when you felt extremely emotional. Rage, grief, pain, sorrow, pure happiness... Love. Hatred. Those things get in the way of seeing how beautiful and ugly things can be." Moira's gaze seemed hollow, and she couldn't hide that deadened look in her eyes. She seemed haunted, and what she said next nearly tore Harry apart.

"If being an observer means to never experience any of those emotions, I wish you dead right now, where you stand. To keep you alive and live in the torment of never experiencing emotion is only something I would wish on my enemies." Her voice was low and harsh, anger reflecting in her eyes and she blinked away tears. Harry was stunned that any mother would say that to a child as deeply troubled as Willow was. Willow's rage finally broke loose, her mask breaking instantaneously.

"What good is love when it leaves you with horrid, wretched things like me?" She spat out. Harry could feel her mind radiating hatred in strong waves, and he shuddered. "Apathy is going to save me from the hell you're living in! Ren has blinded you with his sweet words. Love does not, and will not, ever exist." Willow turned to walk away again, furious.

"Your father left for a reason, not because he stopped loving me!" Moira yelled out, her tone desperate, her eyes nearly defeated. Willow shook her head and smiled victoriously, then reducing her grin to a smirk bad enough to rival Malfoy's.

"Love does not exist; get over it." Willow said cruelly. Her mother's eyes glittered in tears as they streamed down her face, and Harry saw the look in her eyes; hatred. She could no longer stand Willow, and he could tell that she would not put up with her much longer, let alone love her. He could almost hear her thinking, Hey, how can I lose a love from her I never had?

"Your words are poison to me." Moira said, her voice low and filled with tears and anger, and Willow ran into the woods, tears streaming down her worn down face. Harry followed, feeling sick to his stomach. What would his life have been like, were his parents alive? He didn't think either of them would ever let their relationship with their son ever get that bad.

"I hate you." Willow whispered as she slumped up against her tree. "But even more than I hate you or you hate me, I will always, always, hate myself more." She dissolved into bitter tears and hugged her knees to her chest. "Why can't there be just one person who'll love me?" She cried out. "Why can't someone just prove me wrong? Everyone who could have ever loved me either left or hates me! I'm sorry I'm so bitter, I'm sorry I'm so angry! I'm sorry for everything!" At that, she stood up slowly and walked towards the edge of her small cliff. She turned, not facing the sunset, and spread her arms wide with her eyes closed. Just as she fell back, FLASH.

--Her mother teacher her to play the guitar—

--A boy tugging cruelly on a lock of her long, luxurious black hair—

--People backing away from her on the streets—

--Another night spent sobbing at her secret place—

--And another—

--And another—

--And another—

--And another—

--And...another—

Harry was jerked back into reality with a sudden jolt. He was shaking and sweating all over, watching a truly depressing childhood of a girl who didn't deserve it. Her attitude was cold due to the way she was treated; how else was she expected to survive? Willow had the right to be apathetic, and not just because it was what she wanted, it's because that's what she needed at the time. With the treatment she received from the people of her town and her horrific experience with her werewolf father, who wants to wear their emotions out on their sleeve for the world to see? It was a defense mechanism, that was all. Maybe... maybe one day, Harry could actually meet Willow. Face to face. Maybe... maybe he could break down that wall and he could be the one to love her, to show her what exactly love is, to prove its existance to her.

Harry mentally slapped himself. What was he thinking? He'd never spoken a single word to this girl in his entire life, and he was already thinking about making her fall in love with him?

"You like her!" Ron's voice echoed in his head, along with Hermione and Ginny's giggles and their own comments. Harry sighed and sat down, still covered by his invisibility cloak, absently listening to the teacher lecture about the Revolutionary War.

"Hey guys, the 'Weeping Willow' is actually weeping!" One boy whispered loudly, and he and his other classmates snickered loudly. Harry looked up to see Willow just burying her face in her desk, shaking with slow and uneven sobs. When they all laughed harder, the teacher stopped talking and her face purpled.

"Now really!" She yelled, exasperatedly as the laughter grew louder. Harry remembered this kind of torment in his own muggle schooling from his own classmates. Willow stood up quickly, her books falling out of her backpack, and she just left them there. Without hesitation, she took off, running out of the classroom. Harry hurried to follow her, her teacher's indignant yells and laughter following them. When Harry finally caught up to Willow, her face was bright red and her eyes were filled with tears. She broke the silence in the hall with her sobs, her face so contorted in misery, that Harry felt his heart rip. She slowly slid down the wall and sat on the floor, her gasping breaths, tears, and near convulsions racking her body. She was breathing raggedly, and though Harry knew it was a bad idea (not to mention, forbidden and dangerous), Harry sat down next to her and slipped his arm around her. Her breathing nearly stopped as she looked up and saw nothing, but felt someone.

"Who's there?" She said softly, her voice wavering in fear.

"I'm here to watch over you." Harry whispered softly in her ear. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and tightened his hold around her waist.

"Angel?" She asked. Harry did not reply, but pulled her into his lap, murmuring soothing words and holding her to his chest as she cried. "May I see you, my angel?" She asked him softly. Harry sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry, my lovely, but I cannot show you my face." Harry was feeling bold in his disguise, and he had no problem at all holding her and talking to her this way. Disguise was—as he found out—liberating, and it gave him the freedom to do and say things he never could have done without the disguise. When she sighed sadly, Harry knew immediately what was on her mind. "I know; it's unfair that the first person to hold you is someone who can't even show themselves. One day I will show you my face, sweet-ling. One day." Harry couldn't believe that he had just called her 'sweet-ling'. That's the kind of thing you say in the movies, not real life! He expected her to think of it as a pick-up line and walk away from him, rolling her eyes. When she didn't, he relaxed even more and brought her closer to him, nearly cradling her. Harry sighed happily. Her head was resting in the hollow between his neck and shoulder; even Willow noticed how perfectly they seemed to fit together.

"When will you hold me again?" She asked.

"I hold you every night and every time you cry. When sadness or anger takes hold of your body, I watch over you, I take care of you, and I hold you." He whispered softly, his invisible lips brushing her ear lightly. Her breath stopped there for a moment, but it was followed with a shiver of pleasure, and a small sound escaped her lips.

"Will you take me home?" She asked him hopefully. "Will you watch over me?"

"Yes, but you will not remember me in a few moments." Harry said sadly.

"What do you mean--" Harry flicked his wand.

"Obliviate." He said, sadly. He set her on the ground, found the memory, and erased it. When she was coming to again, and murmured, "Stupefy." He caught her in his arms and carried her outside to Hagrid. Hagrid looked genuinely shocked.

"What did you do to 'er, Harry?" He asked, confused and a little angry. Harry shifted uncomfortably and removed the disillusionment spell.

"She knew my smell; I had to erase that bit of her memory. In class, she had a bad run-in with her classmates and ran out of the classroom, crying. So, I stupefied her and carried her here." Harry tried to pass her over to Hagrid, but he shook his head at him.

"You got yourself into this mess, you carry 'er home." Hagrid said, almost irritably. Harry had never heard Hagrid use that tone before, and stiffened slightly, hurt. Hagrid saw the look on his face and quickly apologized. "It's the mission," He growled. "It's getting more an' more dangerous each day, and the las' thing we need is her knowing that we're here. What if she were ter raise some kind of alarm? The Death Eaters could find her so fast, it would make our heads spin." Harry nodded reluctantly and accepted the apology. So, they began their long trek up the mountain and through to her secret spot. They laid her out next to the large oak tree and hid.

"Enervate." Harry whispered, pointing his wand at her. She woke with a start.

Harry hoped that the next few months would not be as stressful as this one visit had been.