Wow! You know I never expected this story to take off quite like it has. Thanks guys for all your reviews. However, I'm refraining from answering questions in fear of giving anything away. Quite a few of you are on the right track to what's going on here, but, well like I said, I don't want to give anything away.
P.s. As a thank you to everyone for the 11 reviews submitted to the past chapter alone, I've decided to give you chapter eight ahead of schedule. Take care everyone, and keep reviewing!
Harry spoke very little after that. If he ever said anything at all, it was only because he had been addressed beforehand. Otherwise, Harry spoke rarely, and avoided eye contact with everyone. Even Remus, who had stopped by again to visit; and check up on Harry. Remus stayed later this time after noticing very quickly his sudden change in attitude towards everything. Harry hadn't displayed the usual cheery greeting upon seeing his old school teacher at the breakfast table that morning, and Harry had completely forgotten about the book he'd been so eager to show Remus in his last letter. It was Ginny who had reminded him to go get it for him.
"Have you read much more of it lately?" Remus asked, thumbing through the pages. Harry shook his head, taking a seat across from Remus as they enjoyed some time alone in the sitting room that evening. Remus eyed Harry as casually as possible, but concern soon started to leak through his tired eyes and Harry felt himself grow very uncomfortable under the steady gaze of his old Professor. "Is there something bothering you, Harry?" Remus inquired after a long silence. "You look tired."
Harry shrugged. "I suppose I am...a little."
"Been up all night?" Remus afforded a slight grin. Harry shook his head. Remus tried something else. "Not sleeping well?"
"You could say that."
This particular answer took Remus aback slightly. He hadn't expected Harry to be honest with him, only so that he wouldn't be probed for answers. Not that Remus ever did that, but Harry was used to others doing so. I suppose that's my job too now, he thought dryly. A frown creased his worn features, causing Harry's gaze to fall upon him.
"Are you all right?"
He peered up at Harry, rather amazed that this young man had come to realize Remus' own personal plight.
"I'm as good as ever," Remus responded with a forced smile.
Harry sunk a little deeper into his chair. "That good, eh?"
Remus chuckled slightly, closing the book and setting it down on the coffee table. "Isn't it always that way, though?"
Harry nodded. Some more silence followed. Remus staring at the cover of the book before him while Harry's eyes kept flying to the window nearest them.
"The weather's been nice," Remus stated, noting the longing look Harry had in his eyes.
"It has."
Shifting a bit in his seat, Remus wondered what else there was to say. He wouldn't dare force Harry to talk about whatever was ailing him, only because it would be pointless. Remus wouldn't be able to offer any solace to Harry's mourning heart when his own was in the same position. Sirius had been the last person on earth Remus could confide in. The last person Remus could talk to and trust, could laugh with, or weep with when October's end drew near, and the lingering memory of what they had both lost, and why, was too much to humanely bare.
Sirius had been much of the same thing to Harry as well. He was the closest thing to a family Harry would have had the privilege to know, and now that too was gone. There was nothing to say to a situation like that, Remus knew. But he wasn't sure if he should step up to the plate and take Sirius' place, or give Harry the distance everyone else seemed to think he needed.
The question was, what did Harry need?
"Would you like to step outside?"
Harry's head jumped up at the invitation. He accepted, and together they stepped out into the dark evening. The first thing they both noticed was the stars. The moon came second. All shone brilliantly in the night. Far away were the muggle cities that cast so much light that it was hard to see the stars and moon, but here at the Burrow the stars were always radiant. It was a gift to both Harry and Remus that night to find the Dog Star shining brightly over both of their heads.
Instinctively, Remus' eyes shot straight up to the luminescent orb that hovered over their heads. It was almost symbolic. Almost.
Remus sighed sadly. "There it is."
Harry looked up, wondering what Remus could possibly mean. Then, all of a sudden, he saw it.
There was Sirius.
Harry grimaced.
The star seemed so much brighter tonight. It was pulsating noticeably. Just the atmosphere obstructing my view, he thought dryly. There was no significance in it.
Remus had another thought on his mind. "Sirius is looking down on you," he stated, a cough interrupting his words.
A dark scowl suddenly fell over Harry's features. Sirius wasn't watching over him. Sirius was a small light in the nighttime sky. Hundreds of light years away, it was something different. A great pulsating globe of gasses and elements, burning off hundreds of thousands of degrees of heat. But here, to Harry, that little pinprick was, well, just that. A spot in the sky, and it offered Harry no warmth this night. Nor had it any other night. Sirius was not watching over him. Sirius was just there; as he had always been.
...As it had always been.
Remus seemed to read Harry's thoughts at that moment. He frowned, saying, "Maybe that should tell you something."
"That doesn't tell me anything," Harry snapped quietly. "Sirius isn't watching over me; Sirius isn't here anymore. You know that."
Remus sighed.
"Don't be so certain."
Harry turned. He was about to ask what the hell that had meant, exactly. He might have followed that up with the statement 'You don't know anything,' or 'That's such a foolish belief.' But part of Harry wanted to believe that. A great part of Harry's heart wanted to believe that Sirius wasn't gone at all. He wanted to think that they had only been separated for a short time, and would meet again soon.
But another part of Harry knew that he'd never see Sirius again. Not in this life. Harry didn't believe in reincarnation, and if there was a life beyond this one, it was too far away for Harry to dwell on those he had lost. He allowed himself a soft, mournful sigh and wiped a tear from his eye.
Remus noticed this. He didn't bother to hide his own as Harry collapsed into his arms. They held an embrace for a long period of time with no eyes watching them from the Burrow, or anywhere else. Only the stars bore witness to the breaking of their hearts for the last time.
Remus left without going in that night. Harry found the walk to his and Ron's room lonely, no matter how short. He'd just shared with Remus all the things that had been in his heart for too long. Part of him was glad for it, and another part of him knew that when he woke he'd regret the weakness he'd shown in the eyes of his Professor.
When Harry entered his room, Ron was already in bed. He was sitting up, slumped against the pillows he'd acquired from Fred and George's room in an attempt for revenge.
Harry had overheard the story this morning that the twins had snuck into their room early in the morning (presumably after Harry's spell) and slipped a few spiders into his bed. Harry wasn't certain how he had missed Ron's high pitched shrieks, although it could have happened while he was in the shower.
"Remus gone?" Ron asked. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was peering intensely at Harry, making him quite uncomfortable.
"Yeah," Harry answered, picking up his pajamas and heading toward the bathroom. When Harry got there, the lanterns never came on. He frowned, flicking a few of them with his fingers in hopes that maybe the spells had just shorted out. Nothing. Harry cursed and decided that he'd rather get dressed in the dark than kick Ron out of their room.
Just as he started to unbutton his shirt, a wave of pain shot through his head. Harry doubled over, biting his tongue so as to not scream out in pain. Another wave followed. Harry slipped backward and slammed his head into the tub, causing a loud "thud" to echo through the bathroom and well into the hall. Blackness swallowed his vision, but he could hear someone calling his name.
"It happened again?"
"Yes, but not as bad this time."
"Well, that's good. How's he doing?"
"He's no better, and he's no worse."
"Is that good news?"
"You tell me."
Harry opened his eyes and became aware of his surroundings almost immediately. He was alone in a hospital room. St. Mungo's, no doubt. But where was everyone? How did he get here? He found a clock nearby and saw that it was nearing three o'clock in the morning. Harry frowned. Chances were no one was waiting up for him this early.
Sighing, Harry leaned back into the pillows and closed his eyes.
"How are you holding up?"
His eyes shot open. Harry looked around, waiting for the hidden person to reveal his or herself.
"Hello?" he asked into the darkness. "Is anyone there?"
No answer. Harry sighed again and fell back into the hospital pillows. At least he was away from the concerned gazes, prying eyes, and inane questions of his friends. Closing his eyes, Harry elected to sleep soundly through the first peaceful night he'd had in ages.
"I'm holding up."
Harry's frown deepened. He didn't bother to open his eyes, he simply rolled over.
"You really should go get some rest."
"No, that's all right. I'll stay."
Cursing, he sat straight up in his bed. He was completely alone in the room. There was no where someone could hide that he couldn't see. What really bothered him though was that there was more than one person.
"All right," Harry stated, pulling his knees up to his chin and hugging them tightly to his frame. "I'm going insane."
"It's been weeks. What are you going to do if he never wakes up?"
"I am awake," Harry snarled through gritted teeth. He began to grind them together furiously. Insanity wasn't supposed to be annoying. At least that was what Harry had always believed.
"He'll wake."
"I AM AWAKE!" Harry shouted at the top of his lungs. To his astonishment, no one came in response to his yells. "It's a good thing I'm not being murdered in here," he said with a bitter scowl. "Maybe they've taken a leaf from Fudge's book and decided I'm better off dead as well."
The thought was unnerving that no one cared whether or not he was alive or dead. He'd never really thought to consider it before. Somehow, he had always made it through life without ever once considering if he had anything worth living for. Harry had never realized how alone he was in the world. He had no family, only his friends and Remus. And in reality, what were they?
As he drifted in thought, Harry slowly became aware of how very dejected and depressed he felt. It was funny, in a sense. He was a hero on numerous counts, and yet he had nothing worth fighting for. He was the lonely hero of a sad story that everyone knew, but didn't know well enough.
People seemed to forget that heroes needed saving too.
"The great Harry Potter," Harry guffawed, glancing over at the clock once more. "What a joke."
"You are putting too much hope in a person who has probably already let go."
Wonder what that's like, Harry mused sardonically.
"He hasn't let go."
Oh, haven't I?
"What does he have to hold on to?"
I've been asking myself that for a long time now.
"He has me, Remus."
Harry's heart jumped. Where the hell were those voices coming from? He leapt from the hospital bed, nearly destroyed the room in his search, and came up empty handed. The voices had ceased as well, and Harry was left feeling alone once more.
"Damn," Harry hissed as he allowed himself to fall to the floor in a mournful heap. He was beginning to like these mysterious voices. They made him feel like he wasn't quite alone. "Where are you?" he whispered into the darkness.
Shadows surrounded him wherever he turned, and for all Harry's effort he couldn't find a light. Even the window showed no sign of a moon or stars beyond its glass. All was black, save for the illuminated numbers of the clock, but even those seemed a cruel mockery in comparison to this enveloping blackness.
Harry began to sob like a child, much to his own disgust. Yet since there was no one around to hear, he allowed the tears to fall. The pain was too much to hold onto anymore. "Sirius, where are you?" he gasped between breaths. "I can't do it alone. I don't want to do it alone!" He stopped, waiting for an answer. There was none. "WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO!?!" Harry suddenly shrieked into the impenetrable darkness of his room. Or his mind. There didn't seem to be much of a difference anymore. "DID YOU EVER STOP TO THINK OF WHAT I'D DO IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO YOU?! DID YOU EVER THINK THAT MAYBE I NEEDED YOU TOO? WERE YOU TRYING TO BE A HERO, SIRIUS? IS THAT IT? DID YOU THINK YOU HAD HAD TO PROVE SOMETHING?!"
The silence broke Harry's heart. He crawled, crippled from emotional exhaustion, into a corner, and in a groundswell of selfish hatred, he wished that death would find him and take him away. But nothing came. Ironically, at the one point in Harry's life where he wished for death, it wasn't there.
"You didn't have anything to prove..."
Harry continued to weep, his face now buried in his hands. "Not to me..."
"Harry! Harry wake up!"
Someone was shaking him violently. He expected to still be weeping in the corner of his hospital room when he opened his eyes, but he wasn't.
"What? Where am I?" Harry grumbled, sitting up groggily. He was back in Ron's room. The sun had risen now. It was the first time Harry had woken up to find sunlight in their room for a long time. The image seemed alien.
"You're here. Where else would you be?" Ron frowned. Harry thought of about a million different answers to that question considering the past few days, but he never said anything. "You were having a bad dream."
Harry rubbed his left temple lightly. There was a lump there. Apparently collapsing in the Weasley's bathroom hadn't been part of that dream. "Are you all right?"
Harry bit his lip as another wave of pain shot through his head. It wasn't from his scar. His finger had nicked the tender flesh of his knot. Harry groaned, but nodded his head which caused it to spin rapidly.
"You look like you're going to be sick."
"I think I might be," Harry answered honestly. "How did I get back here?"
"I dragged you in. Fred and George helped."
"Thanks."
"What happened?"
Harry swooned after having stood from his cot. Ron caught him and eased him back. "I think you should lay down for a while longer," Ron stated. "I'll get mum."
"No, don't!" Harry shot back up. "I'm fine."
Ron frowned. "No, you're not," he argued immediately. "You had two attacks, your foot's been cut, and you keep having nightmares that I have trouble waking you from. You're going to Mungo's."
"I'll deny it," Harry said firmly, leaving no room for Ron to doubt his threat.
"Which will not be very convincing with Fred and George backing me up."
"Ron, please, I don't want the attention."
"Attention?" Ron seemed quite taken aback. "Attention? Harry it's not attention. Everyone's worried about you!"
"I don't want them to worry!" Harry shot back.
"Well they do," Ron argued back just as fiercely. "And they're only going to worry more. You can't keep pushing everyone away, Harry."
"Why?" Harry fumed. "Everyone I care about gets killed! Don't you think I'm doing them a favor!"
"No, Harry, you aren't!"
Both of their voices were raised high enough for everyone in the house to hear, but neither of them cared.
"How can you say that!?"
"Because a real friend will stand by you no matter what the cost! Everyone you know is willing to risk their life to save you! Do you know why?"
"Because they feel like they own something to my parents, I'm sure," Harry muttered.
What happened next shocked both Harry and Ron beyond anything they'd ever experienced before. The swallowed anger in Ron's heart leapt out in a single instant; he balled up his fist and socked Harry directly in the jaw. It wasn't a devastating blow, but it sent Harry's glasses flying across the room and the both of them toppled over the cot and landed with a very hard 'thud' on the floor.
Harry simply lie there, stunned. The pain in his head had just increased tenfold within the past few seconds. He couldn't form a coherent thought or word, but simply lay on the floor staring into Ron's astonished face.
"Harry...Harry I'm sorry!" he gasped at once. "I didn't...I couldn't...I...I was just..."
Harry opened his mouth to stretch his sore jaw. A loud pop sounded loud enough to make Ron think someone had apparated into the room. Harry knew otherwise. His jaw wasn't broken, but he'd have a very smart bruise on his left cheek when he went down to breakfast that morning. A perfect color contrast to match the knot on his temple.
Harry was pretty sure no one would believe he simply rolled off his bed in the middle of the night.
"Are you all right?" Harry finally got the nerve to ask, not really certain if he cared whether or not Ron was well or if he had broken all of his ribs.
"F-fine."
"Don't do that again." Harry stood and stretched. Ron followed, shaking as he reached to gather some clothes.
"Harry...I'm really, really sorry."
"I know."
Ron looked as though he were about to cry. He rushed out of the room, leaving Harry to sit and consider the past few hours alone.
