Bonds: Harry's Story Continued
He didn't know what he was doing there. As soon as he arrived outside the Weasley's front door, he was struck with a very strong desire to turn around disapparate right back to his cottage.
What if Ron was wrong? What if his parents didn't want anything to do with him?
He grimaced, realizing that it wasn't really Mr. and Mrs. Weasley he was worried about.
Well, he was worried about their reactions as well, of course.
But there was someone else that he was more than certain would want nothing to do with him.
And really, he didn't blame her.
He really wasn't certain what he'd been thinking. Ron's letter just. Well, hearing that Ron and Hermione had patched up their friendship after so many years of not speaking had given him hope.
In a way, he'd even be jealous of the fact that Ron and Hermione were together at the Burrow, having fun, when he'd spent the last four years completely alone. That jealousy had reminded him of the summer before his fifth year, when he'd wanted nothing more than to be brought to where his friends were, and to be let in on it all.
And before he'd known it, he'd been taking his wand out and apparating to the Burrow.
In front of which he now stood, his mind reeling as he realized just how many reasons he shouldn't have broken his years of silence and done, well, what he'd just done.
Just as he had made up his mind to head straight back, the door to the Burrow opened.
"Harry?" Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice hit his ears, filled with. was that excitement?
And before he really had time to attempt to decipher his mood, he found himself wrapped up in surprisingly strong arms, as Molly Weasley hugged him like, well, like a mother would hug her prodigal son.
"What, he doesn't get a smack?" Ron's voice asked. Harry looked up to see his former best friend framed by the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. Despite the marked changes to Ron's appearance: if possible, he was even taller than when they'd left Hogwarts, his freckles had faded somewhat, replaced by a more even tanned appearance, complete with sunburned cheeks- but despite these changes, for just a second, Harry couldn't help but grin back and it was just like being in Hogwarts again.
Just like before.
And then, almost as quickly as the moment had come upon them, it passed, and Harry's smile faded, giving way to the haunted expression that had crept into his eyes over the years with each loss he'd experienced.
"Glad you could come, Harry," Ron said, clapping a hand on his back as he followed-being all but dragged by Mrs. Weasley through the door.
"Glad you invited me," Harry replied, truly meaning it, despite his reservations about the reunion.
"Harry!" Hermione's voice rang through the kitchen as his other best friend appeared, nearly bowling him over with an enthusiastic embrace.
She pulled apart from him after a moment, and looked up at him.
"Why didn't you write? I was so worried, you know. Nobody really knew where you'd gotten off to, and there were all sorts of rumours, including." she trailed off, her expression twisting to one of such concern, the lines on her forehead becoming more prominent as she suddenly began to look much older than her twenty-one years.
Harry felt a strong flash of guilt. He opened his mouth to apologize, but the words never made it past his lips as someone else appeared in the entryway.
"What's all this racket?" Ginny's voice rang through the room, warmth washing over him instantly. The only feeling he could think to compare it to was that of eating chocolate after an encounter with a dementor. But just as quickly as the feeling came, it was gone, as her eyes fell upon him and her face fell. "Oh," she said in a barely audible voice.
He stood there staring at her, willing his tongue to work, wanting anything to break the silence.
"Hello, Ginny," he finally said, his voice shaking slightly.
An unreadable expression flashed in her warm brown eyes. Was it anger? Hurt?
"Hello," she said with a curt nod after a long moment of silence.
After another few seconds of uncomfortable silence, she turned and mumbled something to her mother about going out to the gardens, fleeing the room, leaving Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley all staring at him quizzically.
"I. think I need to get some fresh air, if that's all right," he muttered, already moving towards the front door.
Once outside, he leaned against the house, closing his eyes and sighing.
*****
"Harry?" Ginny approached him tentatively.
He'd been sitting by the lake, trying not to think of the fast approaching final exams, graduation, and the battle that would almost certainly come any day now, and failing miserably.
Since the ball, they'd avoided each other for the most part. There hadn't been much time to talk about things, as Krum's death had thrown the school into chaos, and all of Harry's remaining spare time had been devoted to the DA meetings that they were now having on a daily basis, as well as his studies, and his Occlumency lessons.
Although, even if he had found the time, he doubted Ginny would have talked to him. They both seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement to avoid each other.
They weren't hostile, but the friendship he'd enjoyed before the ball seemed to have evaporated.
And so, when she appeared by the lake that day, it had come as quite a surprise.
Perhaps if he had been expecting it, he would have been better prepared.
Although, that probably wasn't true.
He hadn't been ready to hear what she had to say.
*****
He found her outside by the garden, knelt over a patch of squash, pulling at the plants almost angrily. He knew full well that there was a charm to do that.
But she seemed to be taking her frustrations out on the vegetables.
He watched her in silence for a few minutes, trying to work up the courage to say something, trying to find his voice to just say her name.
It couldn't be that hard, could it?
"What are you doing here, Harry?" she finally asked, not looking up at him, still tugging violently at the squash.
"I." he faltered , not really knowing how to answer that.
Really, what business did he have coming back here, after all these years?
Something about Ron's letter had pulled at loyalties he'd tried to shed long ago, had reminded him all too well how much he missed the people he'd left behind.
And so, in a moment of temporary insanity, he'd sent a letter back telling Ron he'd be there and had quickly apparated to the Burrow without hesitation, without stopping to think.
He frowned. "I'm not really sure," he admitted.
"Well," she said, tearing another plant from the ground. "You would do well to be sure before you do things."
"Ginny, I." he struggled for the words.
"Just never mind," she snapped. "It doesn't matter," she added, her tone softening.
His face fell at the hurt in her voice, and he again opened his mouth to say something.
"Harry," she said, her voice coming out very tired, "Just please leave me alone, okay?"
He nodded slightly, despite the fact that she couldn't see him nodding. "Sorry for bothering you."
He thought he saw her head bow slightly in some sort of acknowledgement of what he'd said.
Again the desire to say something-anything-sprang up in him, but, keeping her wishes in mind, he turned and started to head back towards the house.
As he did, he could have sworn he heard her whisper "sorry."
But when he turned to look at her, she remained the same as before, still hunched over the garden, purposefully ignoring his presence.
With one last look, he turned and headed back to the Burrow, trying to fight the sinking feeling in his stomach.
He opened the back door and entered the kitchen, freezing as he caught sight of his two best friends, their arms wrapped around each other, and attached at the lip, completely oblivious to his presence.
He stared in shock for a minute, and then, silently, he turned and headed back out the door.
*****
"After what you said after the ball, I wouldn't even be here, but I." Ginny blinked, looking down, studying her hands. And for a moment-a brief moment- he'd been reminded of the timid little girl that had once been unable to speak in front of him when he'd first come to the Burrow.
He fought the urge to take her hands, to lean in and kiss her as he had just a few months ago.
But that had been before.
Before he'd realized that innocent people would die if he let his guard drop for even a few minutes.
He'd avoided Ginny after their row for more reasons than one.
She'd caused him to drop his guard.
He should have been out in the woods with Hermione, Ron, and Viktor. Maybe he could have.
He just couldn't help thinking that maybe he could have done something if he hadn't been at the ball with Ginny.
Or rather, more correctly, hadn't been outside the Great Hall, kissing Ginny. Ginny, who deserved better than someone who was set to murder or be murdered any day now.
"I know you're going to survive this, and when you do, I just hope you know that there are people waiting on the other side for you. And I hope you know that I l-" she began, but he cut her off by standing up abruptly.
"Ginny, I can't do this right now," he said quickly. At the look of hurt on her face, he felt a sharp pang, and almost. almost took it all back, letting her finish what she was about to say.
Maybe he could even have said it back.
He'd never said 'I love you' before. Oh, he was sure the Weasleys and Hermione did love him. But it had never been said.
And, well, growing up with the Dursleys, love wasn't exactly something you learned to feel, let alone express.
But, for a split second there, he'd been sure that the words would have just rolled right off his tongue, had he let them.
"I just. have a lot of studying to do, for the final NEWTs, you know," he said, wincing apologetically, standing up, and reaching out to give her shoulder a squeeze. He froze before touching her, knowing just how much harder that would make it to walk away. "I'll see you at the next DA meeting, okay?" he told her, before turning and hurrying back towards the castle.
*****
He didn't belong here.
Sure, he was happy for Ron and Hermione.
There had always been something between the two of them, for as long as he could remember.
Not that either of them would have admitted it, in their stubbornness.
He smiled, remembering the conversation he'd had to have with Hermione before the Yule Ball.
She and Ron had been at each other's throats ever since the ball had been announced and he'd stupidly agreed to go with Susan Bones, ducking out of the opportunity to ask her at the last minute.
Neither would admit to the reason for their sniping, despite the fact that all of Gryffindor tower, and perhaps most of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, if not Slytherin, were aware of the reason why.
After one particularly nasty row, which he'd found himself stuck in the middle of, of course, he'd found her seething in the library, nearly ripping her astronomy text to shreds.
"I don't think Madam Pince would encourage the defamation of a book in her library, even if it is your personal property," Harry said gently, taking a seat next to Hermione.
"Go away, Harry," she muttered angrily.
"No," he told her defiantly, standing his ground against her perfected Head Girl glare. The one that sent the naughtiest of students into a frenzy of repentance.
"Well then I will," she said, standing up and throwing her books haphazardly into her bag, a stark contrast with the usual order of all of Hermione's things, especially her books.
"No you will not," he said, standing with her, and meeting her eyes. He had faced down Voldemort five times. Hermione, although a force to be reckoned with when angry, wasn't about to get him to back down. "Now sit down."
"I will not!" she shot back.
"You will. My two best friends are arguing and putting me in the middle, when I've done nothing to either of them. For that matter, they're both too thick to realize that they've nothing to be angry about."
"Did you hear what he said to me? I'm perfectly within my rights to be angry." Her eyes were flashing dangerously, but he knew her well enough to realize that her lower lip was trembling every so slightly, and that she was very near tears.
"Yes, I heard. And I'm not saying what he said was right. But you said quite a few nasty things as well," Harry told her.
"Well," she said, setting her jaw stubbornly, not about to admit she'd been wrong.
"You know, for someone who was made Head Girl, you're about as thick as they come," he told her, shaking his head.
"Excuse me?" she looked up and glared at him. "Harry James Potter, you've no right or reason to come here and insult me."
"Hermione," he cut her off, suppressing a laugh. It really wasn't funny.
Except for the fact that it sort of was. If one wasn't caught in the middle of one's two best friends, who were so in love with each other and so thick that they spent all their time sniping, and putting their mutual best friend right in the thick of things, each holding him responsible for what the other was doing.
"Ron doesn't want to go to the Ball with Susan Bones."
"Why are you telling me this? It's none of my business what he wants, nor does it have anything to do with his insults, or with you coming to the library and insulting my intelligence." She said, despite the fact that neither of them were convinced of the truth of that statement.
"Hermione, he wanted to ask you. But you beat him to the punch by announcing you were going to be spending the night with Krum."
She looked up at him, her mouth forming a little 'o' of shock.
"But," she said, her face reddening with frustration. "It's not as if I'm interested in Viktor that way. And, well, if I don't make the amulets, who will?" They were now getting dirty looks from some nearby students, who seemed to have been attempting to study before Harry had come in and instigated a 'scene.'
"I know, Hermione," he said gently, in an attempt to get her to lower her voice. "But Ron doesn't, don't you see?" he smiled slightly. "I think it's safe to say you're both a bit thick."
"I." Hermione sat down, shaking her head. "Harry, are you sure about this?"
Harry laughed. "Hermione, you're both my best friends. If I'm not sure, then I think we'd have to worry about my intelligence." He grimaced. "Although, once I get through with the NEWTs, I'm sure we will have to worry about that."
"Harry, you're not unintelligent, you just don't apply yourself," Hermione said almost automatically, and then blinked. "And what exactly are you saying here, anyway?"
Harry shook his head, sighing. "I think Ron's not the only one with the emotional range of a teaspoon here," he said, again fighting back a smile. "Just trust me when I say that he wanted to go to the ball with you. And only you. Everyone else realizes this, and, well, we all think that Gryffindor tower will be much more peaceful once you two see it as well."
"Everyone?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Everyone," Harry said with a small nod.
She looked at him, as if searching for some hint of dishonesty on his part. Obviously not finding it, she turned back to her books.
"I. have a lot of studying to do, Harry. But I'll see you at dinner, all right?"
"All right," he said, with a nod, standing up to leave.
He couldn't help but notice that, even as she retrieved her gigantic textbooks, a small smile was beginning to spread across her face.
Grinning, he shook his head one last time before exiting the library.
*****
"Where do you think you're going?" a sharp voice broke through his thoughts.
He looked up guiltily, wand in hand. For a moment, he was hit with the feeling of being on the wrong end of one of Mrs. Weasley's infamous reaming outs.
But, of course, it wasn't Mrs. Weasley standing there, her eyes flashing dangerously, as she had never seemed to be able to yell at Harry, even when he'd been a partner in crime with her own sons, he got the worst of her temper.
Instead, in Molly's place, was Ginny Weasley, looking furious, and very similar to her mother, in the midst of one of her scolding sessions.
"I." he began, again looking down at his wand, and then looking back up guiltily. Of course, a second later, he was reminded that she had just brushed him off. "What's it to you?" he asked, a bit more coldly than he'd meant to.
Her face fell, and for a moment she looked as if he'd slapped her, and again he was fought with the urge to take it all back. But before he could say anything, or apologize, her eyes flashed dangerously and her chin set with determination.
"This isn't about me. In fact, it has nothing to do with me." If she hadn't been so angry, he would almost have thought that he detected a hint of wistfulness in the words. "Do you have any idea how excited my brother was when he received your letter?" she continued, making him look down at his wand again, feeling a sudden strong urge to hide it. Anything to make the scolding stop.
Not that hiding his wand would do much good. She knew what he'd been intending to do.
"And my mother!" she continued. "Did you even see her face when you arrived? Do you have any idea what it means to her? Not to mention what it will mean to dad, and what it means to Hermione, and, well, the rest of the family." She stopped, and for a moment he thought she was done, but she merely took a breath and continued. "Although, given the fact that you do still seem to have your eyesight in working order, and that you've not gone completely mental, I'm going to assume that you did see my mother's face, and that you are aware of this. In which case, you're about to leave the people that care about you without saying goodbye for yet another time. For no reason except that the only person you seem to care about is yourself."
Harry blinked as she seemed to finally come to the end of it all, and stood there, her chest heaving from exertion.
He suddenly felt very ashamed, and actually did put his wand away, focusing on the ground.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I just... walked in on Ron and Hermione, and thought."
"Thought what? That-merlin forbid-they're actually happy! Oh no. The great Harry Potter doesn't want to be anywhere near happiness, now does he? Even in a time of peace, even when there's no reason to be anything but." she trailed off, gaping at him as if she herself hadn't expected to say all that.
"No," he said quietly, her words stinging. And then suddenly, he felt a surge of annoyance. "Not that it's any of your business, but I felt as if I didn't really have a place here anymore," he shot back angrily. Who was she to assume anything about him?
Just because he wasn't here with the Weasleys didn't mean that he hadn't been happy for the last four years.
How self-centered was she to believe that this was the only place he might be happy? Maybe he had found other friends, another family that felt like his own.
Of course. The worst of it was that she was right.
It was the only place he'd really been happy, save for Hogwarts, which had always had Weasleys.
And perhaps he had been spending the last four years avoiding happiness.
He himself wasn't sure why. Except that he felt unworthy of them. He'd killed, in the most hideous way he could imagine. And she was right again, that it was peace time, and there was no excuse to be unhappy.
And he was.
He'd spent the last four years, hiding away, wallowing in his unhappiness, not wanting to spoil anyone else's peace with it.
Especially not the Weasleys.
Especially not Ginny.
Ginny, who had already let out a noise of disgust, and told him to "do what you want," before turning on her heel and setting off down the path leading towards the woods at the edge of the yard.
"Harry?" Ron's voice asked from the door. Harry looked up, guiltily, wondering how much Ron had heard.
Hermione stood next to Ron, her mouth open slightly in surprise, and looking. was it guilty?
"Harry, we didn't mean to make you feel as if you didn't have a place here anymore," Hermione said quietly.
"Yeah," Ron chimed in, and Harry was struck with a surge of jealousy as the two seemed to be acting in synchronicity, sharing a bond that left him on the outside.
"Just never mind," Harry muttered angrily, turning and starting to head in the opposite direction in which Ginny had gone.
"No, I won't never mind," Ron said quickly, exchanging a look with Hermione. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see them having a silent conversation with their eyes. And then, he heard the door to the Burrow close, and footsteps on the path behind him.
"Harry, wait up," Ron said, his long legs easily catching up to Harry.
For a second, Harry was struck with the impulse to tell Ron to sod off, or to shove him away, or to just pull out his wand and apparate back to his cottage. But he did neither, instead setting his jaw and saying nothing, waiting for whatever Ron had to say next.
He owed his friend that much. Not that that was why he'd stayed, he knew, even if he refused to admit it.
Some bonds, despite how one attempted to sever them, were never quite broken.
He didn't know what he was doing there. As soon as he arrived outside the Weasley's front door, he was struck with a very strong desire to turn around disapparate right back to his cottage.
What if Ron was wrong? What if his parents didn't want anything to do with him?
He grimaced, realizing that it wasn't really Mr. and Mrs. Weasley he was worried about.
Well, he was worried about their reactions as well, of course.
But there was someone else that he was more than certain would want nothing to do with him.
And really, he didn't blame her.
He really wasn't certain what he'd been thinking. Ron's letter just. Well, hearing that Ron and Hermione had patched up their friendship after so many years of not speaking had given him hope.
In a way, he'd even be jealous of the fact that Ron and Hermione were together at the Burrow, having fun, when he'd spent the last four years completely alone. That jealousy had reminded him of the summer before his fifth year, when he'd wanted nothing more than to be brought to where his friends were, and to be let in on it all.
And before he'd known it, he'd been taking his wand out and apparating to the Burrow.
In front of which he now stood, his mind reeling as he realized just how many reasons he shouldn't have broken his years of silence and done, well, what he'd just done.
Just as he had made up his mind to head straight back, the door to the Burrow opened.
"Harry?" Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice hit his ears, filled with. was that excitement?
And before he really had time to attempt to decipher his mood, he found himself wrapped up in surprisingly strong arms, as Molly Weasley hugged him like, well, like a mother would hug her prodigal son.
"What, he doesn't get a smack?" Ron's voice asked. Harry looked up to see his former best friend framed by the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. Despite the marked changes to Ron's appearance: if possible, he was even taller than when they'd left Hogwarts, his freckles had faded somewhat, replaced by a more even tanned appearance, complete with sunburned cheeks- but despite these changes, for just a second, Harry couldn't help but grin back and it was just like being in Hogwarts again.
Just like before.
And then, almost as quickly as the moment had come upon them, it passed, and Harry's smile faded, giving way to the haunted expression that had crept into his eyes over the years with each loss he'd experienced.
"Glad you could come, Harry," Ron said, clapping a hand on his back as he followed-being all but dragged by Mrs. Weasley through the door.
"Glad you invited me," Harry replied, truly meaning it, despite his reservations about the reunion.
"Harry!" Hermione's voice rang through the kitchen as his other best friend appeared, nearly bowling him over with an enthusiastic embrace.
She pulled apart from him after a moment, and looked up at him.
"Why didn't you write? I was so worried, you know. Nobody really knew where you'd gotten off to, and there were all sorts of rumours, including." she trailed off, her expression twisting to one of such concern, the lines on her forehead becoming more prominent as she suddenly began to look much older than her twenty-one years.
Harry felt a strong flash of guilt. He opened his mouth to apologize, but the words never made it past his lips as someone else appeared in the entryway.
"What's all this racket?" Ginny's voice rang through the room, warmth washing over him instantly. The only feeling he could think to compare it to was that of eating chocolate after an encounter with a dementor. But just as quickly as the feeling came, it was gone, as her eyes fell upon him and her face fell. "Oh," she said in a barely audible voice.
He stood there staring at her, willing his tongue to work, wanting anything to break the silence.
"Hello, Ginny," he finally said, his voice shaking slightly.
An unreadable expression flashed in her warm brown eyes. Was it anger? Hurt?
"Hello," she said with a curt nod after a long moment of silence.
After another few seconds of uncomfortable silence, she turned and mumbled something to her mother about going out to the gardens, fleeing the room, leaving Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley all staring at him quizzically.
"I. think I need to get some fresh air, if that's all right," he muttered, already moving towards the front door.
Once outside, he leaned against the house, closing his eyes and sighing.
*****
"Harry?" Ginny approached him tentatively.
He'd been sitting by the lake, trying not to think of the fast approaching final exams, graduation, and the battle that would almost certainly come any day now, and failing miserably.
Since the ball, they'd avoided each other for the most part. There hadn't been much time to talk about things, as Krum's death had thrown the school into chaos, and all of Harry's remaining spare time had been devoted to the DA meetings that they were now having on a daily basis, as well as his studies, and his Occlumency lessons.
Although, even if he had found the time, he doubted Ginny would have talked to him. They both seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement to avoid each other.
They weren't hostile, but the friendship he'd enjoyed before the ball seemed to have evaporated.
And so, when she appeared by the lake that day, it had come as quite a surprise.
Perhaps if he had been expecting it, he would have been better prepared.
Although, that probably wasn't true.
He hadn't been ready to hear what she had to say.
*****
He found her outside by the garden, knelt over a patch of squash, pulling at the plants almost angrily. He knew full well that there was a charm to do that.
But she seemed to be taking her frustrations out on the vegetables.
He watched her in silence for a few minutes, trying to work up the courage to say something, trying to find his voice to just say her name.
It couldn't be that hard, could it?
"What are you doing here, Harry?" she finally asked, not looking up at him, still tugging violently at the squash.
"I." he faltered , not really knowing how to answer that.
Really, what business did he have coming back here, after all these years?
Something about Ron's letter had pulled at loyalties he'd tried to shed long ago, had reminded him all too well how much he missed the people he'd left behind.
And so, in a moment of temporary insanity, he'd sent a letter back telling Ron he'd be there and had quickly apparated to the Burrow without hesitation, without stopping to think.
He frowned. "I'm not really sure," he admitted.
"Well," she said, tearing another plant from the ground. "You would do well to be sure before you do things."
"Ginny, I." he struggled for the words.
"Just never mind," she snapped. "It doesn't matter," she added, her tone softening.
His face fell at the hurt in her voice, and he again opened his mouth to say something.
"Harry," she said, her voice coming out very tired, "Just please leave me alone, okay?"
He nodded slightly, despite the fact that she couldn't see him nodding. "Sorry for bothering you."
He thought he saw her head bow slightly in some sort of acknowledgement of what he'd said.
Again the desire to say something-anything-sprang up in him, but, keeping her wishes in mind, he turned and started to head back towards the house.
As he did, he could have sworn he heard her whisper "sorry."
But when he turned to look at her, she remained the same as before, still hunched over the garden, purposefully ignoring his presence.
With one last look, he turned and headed back to the Burrow, trying to fight the sinking feeling in his stomach.
He opened the back door and entered the kitchen, freezing as he caught sight of his two best friends, their arms wrapped around each other, and attached at the lip, completely oblivious to his presence.
He stared in shock for a minute, and then, silently, he turned and headed back out the door.
*****
"After what you said after the ball, I wouldn't even be here, but I." Ginny blinked, looking down, studying her hands. And for a moment-a brief moment- he'd been reminded of the timid little girl that had once been unable to speak in front of him when he'd first come to the Burrow.
He fought the urge to take her hands, to lean in and kiss her as he had just a few months ago.
But that had been before.
Before he'd realized that innocent people would die if he let his guard drop for even a few minutes.
He'd avoided Ginny after their row for more reasons than one.
She'd caused him to drop his guard.
He should have been out in the woods with Hermione, Ron, and Viktor. Maybe he could have.
He just couldn't help thinking that maybe he could have done something if he hadn't been at the ball with Ginny.
Or rather, more correctly, hadn't been outside the Great Hall, kissing Ginny. Ginny, who deserved better than someone who was set to murder or be murdered any day now.
"I know you're going to survive this, and when you do, I just hope you know that there are people waiting on the other side for you. And I hope you know that I l-" she began, but he cut her off by standing up abruptly.
"Ginny, I can't do this right now," he said quickly. At the look of hurt on her face, he felt a sharp pang, and almost. almost took it all back, letting her finish what she was about to say.
Maybe he could even have said it back.
He'd never said 'I love you' before. Oh, he was sure the Weasleys and Hermione did love him. But it had never been said.
And, well, growing up with the Dursleys, love wasn't exactly something you learned to feel, let alone express.
But, for a split second there, he'd been sure that the words would have just rolled right off his tongue, had he let them.
"I just. have a lot of studying to do, for the final NEWTs, you know," he said, wincing apologetically, standing up, and reaching out to give her shoulder a squeeze. He froze before touching her, knowing just how much harder that would make it to walk away. "I'll see you at the next DA meeting, okay?" he told her, before turning and hurrying back towards the castle.
*****
He didn't belong here.
Sure, he was happy for Ron and Hermione.
There had always been something between the two of them, for as long as he could remember.
Not that either of them would have admitted it, in their stubbornness.
He smiled, remembering the conversation he'd had to have with Hermione before the Yule Ball.
She and Ron had been at each other's throats ever since the ball had been announced and he'd stupidly agreed to go with Susan Bones, ducking out of the opportunity to ask her at the last minute.
Neither would admit to the reason for their sniping, despite the fact that all of Gryffindor tower, and perhaps most of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, if not Slytherin, were aware of the reason why.
After one particularly nasty row, which he'd found himself stuck in the middle of, of course, he'd found her seething in the library, nearly ripping her astronomy text to shreds.
"I don't think Madam Pince would encourage the defamation of a book in her library, even if it is your personal property," Harry said gently, taking a seat next to Hermione.
"Go away, Harry," she muttered angrily.
"No," he told her defiantly, standing his ground against her perfected Head Girl glare. The one that sent the naughtiest of students into a frenzy of repentance.
"Well then I will," she said, standing up and throwing her books haphazardly into her bag, a stark contrast with the usual order of all of Hermione's things, especially her books.
"No you will not," he said, standing with her, and meeting her eyes. He had faced down Voldemort five times. Hermione, although a force to be reckoned with when angry, wasn't about to get him to back down. "Now sit down."
"I will not!" she shot back.
"You will. My two best friends are arguing and putting me in the middle, when I've done nothing to either of them. For that matter, they're both too thick to realize that they've nothing to be angry about."
"Did you hear what he said to me? I'm perfectly within my rights to be angry." Her eyes were flashing dangerously, but he knew her well enough to realize that her lower lip was trembling every so slightly, and that she was very near tears.
"Yes, I heard. And I'm not saying what he said was right. But you said quite a few nasty things as well," Harry told her.
"Well," she said, setting her jaw stubbornly, not about to admit she'd been wrong.
"You know, for someone who was made Head Girl, you're about as thick as they come," he told her, shaking his head.
"Excuse me?" she looked up and glared at him. "Harry James Potter, you've no right or reason to come here and insult me."
"Hermione," he cut her off, suppressing a laugh. It really wasn't funny.
Except for the fact that it sort of was. If one wasn't caught in the middle of one's two best friends, who were so in love with each other and so thick that they spent all their time sniping, and putting their mutual best friend right in the thick of things, each holding him responsible for what the other was doing.
"Ron doesn't want to go to the Ball with Susan Bones."
"Why are you telling me this? It's none of my business what he wants, nor does it have anything to do with his insults, or with you coming to the library and insulting my intelligence." She said, despite the fact that neither of them were convinced of the truth of that statement.
"Hermione, he wanted to ask you. But you beat him to the punch by announcing you were going to be spending the night with Krum."
She looked up at him, her mouth forming a little 'o' of shock.
"But," she said, her face reddening with frustration. "It's not as if I'm interested in Viktor that way. And, well, if I don't make the amulets, who will?" They were now getting dirty looks from some nearby students, who seemed to have been attempting to study before Harry had come in and instigated a 'scene.'
"I know, Hermione," he said gently, in an attempt to get her to lower her voice. "But Ron doesn't, don't you see?" he smiled slightly. "I think it's safe to say you're both a bit thick."
"I." Hermione sat down, shaking her head. "Harry, are you sure about this?"
Harry laughed. "Hermione, you're both my best friends. If I'm not sure, then I think we'd have to worry about my intelligence." He grimaced. "Although, once I get through with the NEWTs, I'm sure we will have to worry about that."
"Harry, you're not unintelligent, you just don't apply yourself," Hermione said almost automatically, and then blinked. "And what exactly are you saying here, anyway?"
Harry shook his head, sighing. "I think Ron's not the only one with the emotional range of a teaspoon here," he said, again fighting back a smile. "Just trust me when I say that he wanted to go to the ball with you. And only you. Everyone else realizes this, and, well, we all think that Gryffindor tower will be much more peaceful once you two see it as well."
"Everyone?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Everyone," Harry said with a small nod.
She looked at him, as if searching for some hint of dishonesty on his part. Obviously not finding it, she turned back to her books.
"I. have a lot of studying to do, Harry. But I'll see you at dinner, all right?"
"All right," he said, with a nod, standing up to leave.
He couldn't help but notice that, even as she retrieved her gigantic textbooks, a small smile was beginning to spread across her face.
Grinning, he shook his head one last time before exiting the library.
*****
"Where do you think you're going?" a sharp voice broke through his thoughts.
He looked up guiltily, wand in hand. For a moment, he was hit with the feeling of being on the wrong end of one of Mrs. Weasley's infamous reaming outs.
But, of course, it wasn't Mrs. Weasley standing there, her eyes flashing dangerously, as she had never seemed to be able to yell at Harry, even when he'd been a partner in crime with her own sons, he got the worst of her temper.
Instead, in Molly's place, was Ginny Weasley, looking furious, and very similar to her mother, in the midst of one of her scolding sessions.
"I." he began, again looking down at his wand, and then looking back up guiltily. Of course, a second later, he was reminded that she had just brushed him off. "What's it to you?" he asked, a bit more coldly than he'd meant to.
Her face fell, and for a moment she looked as if he'd slapped her, and again he was fought with the urge to take it all back. But before he could say anything, or apologize, her eyes flashed dangerously and her chin set with determination.
"This isn't about me. In fact, it has nothing to do with me." If she hadn't been so angry, he would almost have thought that he detected a hint of wistfulness in the words. "Do you have any idea how excited my brother was when he received your letter?" she continued, making him look down at his wand again, feeling a sudden strong urge to hide it. Anything to make the scolding stop.
Not that hiding his wand would do much good. She knew what he'd been intending to do.
"And my mother!" she continued. "Did you even see her face when you arrived? Do you have any idea what it means to her? Not to mention what it will mean to dad, and what it means to Hermione, and, well, the rest of the family." She stopped, and for a moment he thought she was done, but she merely took a breath and continued. "Although, given the fact that you do still seem to have your eyesight in working order, and that you've not gone completely mental, I'm going to assume that you did see my mother's face, and that you are aware of this. In which case, you're about to leave the people that care about you without saying goodbye for yet another time. For no reason except that the only person you seem to care about is yourself."
Harry blinked as she seemed to finally come to the end of it all, and stood there, her chest heaving from exertion.
He suddenly felt very ashamed, and actually did put his wand away, focusing on the ground.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I just... walked in on Ron and Hermione, and thought."
"Thought what? That-merlin forbid-they're actually happy! Oh no. The great Harry Potter doesn't want to be anywhere near happiness, now does he? Even in a time of peace, even when there's no reason to be anything but." she trailed off, gaping at him as if she herself hadn't expected to say all that.
"No," he said quietly, her words stinging. And then suddenly, he felt a surge of annoyance. "Not that it's any of your business, but I felt as if I didn't really have a place here anymore," he shot back angrily. Who was she to assume anything about him?
Just because he wasn't here with the Weasleys didn't mean that he hadn't been happy for the last four years.
How self-centered was she to believe that this was the only place he might be happy? Maybe he had found other friends, another family that felt like his own.
Of course. The worst of it was that she was right.
It was the only place he'd really been happy, save for Hogwarts, which had always had Weasleys.
And perhaps he had been spending the last four years avoiding happiness.
He himself wasn't sure why. Except that he felt unworthy of them. He'd killed, in the most hideous way he could imagine. And she was right again, that it was peace time, and there was no excuse to be unhappy.
And he was.
He'd spent the last four years, hiding away, wallowing in his unhappiness, not wanting to spoil anyone else's peace with it.
Especially not the Weasleys.
Especially not Ginny.
Ginny, who had already let out a noise of disgust, and told him to "do what you want," before turning on her heel and setting off down the path leading towards the woods at the edge of the yard.
"Harry?" Ron's voice asked from the door. Harry looked up, guiltily, wondering how much Ron had heard.
Hermione stood next to Ron, her mouth open slightly in surprise, and looking. was it guilty?
"Harry, we didn't mean to make you feel as if you didn't have a place here anymore," Hermione said quietly.
"Yeah," Ron chimed in, and Harry was struck with a surge of jealousy as the two seemed to be acting in synchronicity, sharing a bond that left him on the outside.
"Just never mind," Harry muttered angrily, turning and starting to head in the opposite direction in which Ginny had gone.
"No, I won't never mind," Ron said quickly, exchanging a look with Hermione. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see them having a silent conversation with their eyes. And then, he heard the door to the Burrow close, and footsteps on the path behind him.
"Harry, wait up," Ron said, his long legs easily catching up to Harry.
For a second, Harry was struck with the impulse to tell Ron to sod off, or to shove him away, or to just pull out his wand and apparate back to his cottage. But he did neither, instead setting his jaw and saying nothing, waiting for whatever Ron had to say next.
He owed his friend that much. Not that that was why he'd stayed, he knew, even if he refused to admit it.
Some bonds, despite how one attempted to sever them, were never quite broken.