Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


Alone

You look at him through your lashes, across the room, in the protective shelter of the shadow. He's alone and you know it's his own choice. It hurts you, it hurts everyone. He pushes everyone away, no one is allowed close.

The fire plays with the shadows on his face and he seems older to you. He's not of age yet and you still think he looks older than your dad. Not because of his physical appearance, because he's as handsome as he's ever been, but because of his eyes. They're old, sad and painfully intense when you look directly into them.

The people around him looks at him too, pity shining in their eyes, but they never do anything. They may mumble something half encouraging to him, but eventually they just leave him like he is. Not like he cares.

Finally, you've had enough. You've watched him for so long now, for five years actually, and now it's come to that point where you just have to respond to what you're seeing. So you get up and cross the room, forcing smiles and exchange polite greetings when people you know see you and tries to start conversations.

But you have a goal in mind and you're not known for your stubbornness for nothing so you're soon at his side, sinking down into the couch with an exaggerated sigh. He doesn't seem to have noticed you, but you can tell he has by the flicker of his eyes.

"Lovely evening, isn't it?" you say to break the silence.

He doesn't respond.

"Not up for talking, eh?" you half-smile and shrug lightly. "Okay." You accept that, you even planned that, and sit silently by his side.

A little while later you conjure a cup of steaming hot chocolate and sip at it quietly, looking at the fire, seemingly lost in thought. You're really not, just counting the seconds until he starts talking, because you know he will.

"What are you doing here?" he whispers, voice low and hoarse. Like he hasn't been using it for a good time. You know he hasn't but it still surprises you.

"I thought it was obvious," you say and grin cheekily. Not that he sees your grin, he still refuses to look at you. Refuses to look at anything but the fire in front of him. "I'm keeping you company," you continue when he remains silent.

"Why?"

"You looked alone."

The question is simple. The answer is simple. And yet you're intrigued by how many new layers were revealed by it. It's like a brand new conversation and it's like you're two strangers that just met.

You sip you chocolate and keep silent. You wait for him to start the conversations because you're trying to get him out of his shell and it won't work by forcing answers out of him. You've seen your brother try to do it. You've seen your best friend try to do it. You've seen just about everyone try to do it and fail.

"I'm not alone," he says after a while. Now he finally looks at you, staring at you with his lovely eyes.

You're almost speechless by the intensity but you recover in time and give him a smile and a nod. "Of course you're not," you agree with him and take another sip of your chocolate.

"Really, I'm not," he insists and now turns so he faces you completely.

"I believe you," you reply and smiles at him. Like your mum always did at you when you were little and you said there was a monster under your bed. She never told you you were being silly and there wasn't a monster under your bed, no, she listened, nodded, smiled and patted you on the head and agreed with everything you said.

"I know it may seem like I'm alone, but I really am not."

"Of course."

"Because Ron's always here. And 'Mione."

"Yes, always."

"And I couldn't possibly be alone when the whole common room is full of people, so there's really not possible for me to be alone," he argues with you although you've already agreed several times he's right. "I'm not alone," he finishes and goes back to staring into the flames.

You keep nodding as he speaks and smiles when he's finished but says nothing. You take another sip of you chocolate and realise it's gotten cold. A flick of your wand makes it hot again and you wriggle until you've found a comfortable position.

The silence goes on, for almost five minutes this time, before he speaks up again.

"You haven't offered me any chocolate."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," you react instantly, having waited for this since you crossed the room in the beginning. You hide a smirk as you conjure another cup. "Would you like some chocolate, Harry?"

"Thank-you," he says politely and takes the cup from you, brushing his fingers against yours in the process. You bite back a beaming smile and the shiver that goes through you at his touch.

"You're welcome."

And again you sit in silence, both sipping their chocolate. The common room begins to clear out and your brother and your best friend comes to join you. Neither seems to mind that he's still quiet but both raise an eyebrow and look questioningly at you when they see the cup in his hands.

When the clock starts to near ten you fake a yawn and makes to go to bed. You leave the cup standing for Dobby to clear away and hang the blanket you've wrapped around yourself on the back of the couch and stretches when you rise. Smiling, you bid goodnight to the three of them, getting only two replies.

You walk up the stairs and fall into bed with a smile on your face. It's a content smile you haven't smiled since… You don't remember the last time you did. But now you do and it's because you've finally gotten through to him. Not in a major way so he'll pop out of his shell and start being happy and himself again. You realise that's going to take some time. You're not dumb.

Tomorrow you'll do the exact same thing, you'll sit by his side and wait for him to start conversations if he chooses to. Just so he doesn't feel like he's alone and so he knows you're there for him. And little by little you may get him to come back.

Maybe.

You hope and pray it'll happen because you miss him. You miss seeing him smile, you miss seeing your brother and him joke around. You miss the looks the two of you had shared when "the two lovebirds" were being annoyingly obvious to everyone but themselves.

But for now you're just satisfied with sitting by him and drinking hot chocolate. He may not want to come around today, next week or next month, but sooner or later you know he's going to pull himself together and you want to be right there and support him when he does.


Author's note: Yes, well, this was uplifting, wasn't it? Critique is welcomed, although you should know I normally don't write like this…I'm thankful for any feedback I get. Review, please!