A/N: It's been forever. Sorry about that. Wish we could say it was because of some horrible tragedy, but we 're just very lazy people. Our apologies. Hope you enjoy this.
Disclaimer: We own nothing and no one. However, we don't own anything else. It might take you a minute to get that. In fact, you might not get that at all. It might be one of those things that makes sense only to me. I'm gonna stop blabbering now.
Chapter 7
Following Harry was not as difficult as I thought it would be. He wasn't noticing much of anything, it seemed. He was just running.
I wondered what Lucius Malfoy had said to him that made him run like that. Maybe someone was in danger and Harry had to go save him. Maybe Lucius had kidnapped someone and left them somewhere.
But in Muggle London? That was when I started to doubt the "Harry's just being a hero" theory. He had slowed his run to a very fast walk by now, as not to look suspicious, I'm sure.
However, his appearance was suspicious in itself. He was covered in mud and his hair was acting up a bit more then usual. He was looking at everyone who passed him as if they were about to attack him. His wand was still in his hand, a sight not usually seen in London.
But he made it to the first hotel he came upon without incident. No one said anything to him or made to stop him. And he looked relieved. Well, I'm sure he was. I couldn't really see his face from my position behind him.
He checked into the hotel quickly. I thought that the worker might be suspicious, but he didn't seem to care much.
I followed Harry up the stair, keeping about a flight behind him at all times. I'm glad he didn't want to take the strange box thing that transported people. It looked frightening.
I heard a door open and quickly sprinted up the stairs just in time to see the a door with the number five close. I listened and didn't hear Harry anymore. I opened the door and looked down the hallway. I actually saw a foot go into a room about two doors down from the stair well before the door closed.
Well, now what? I wasn't so sure about his motives anymore. He didn't seem like he was rescuing someone, even like he was acting in a panic. In fact, he seemed pretty calm and rational. I didn't want to knock. Why would he answer?
And then I got it. "Housekeeping," I said, disguising my voice and knocking loudly on the door.
Sure enough, the door swung open and Harry was looking at me. "Ron?"
"It really hasn't been that long," I told him, pushing past him into the room. Sometimes my height does have an advantage. "You shouldn't be forgetting my name already."
"Get out," Harry said angrily. I however, merely threw myself back onto his bed. Muggle hotels actually look pretty nice.
"Why? What's going on Harry?"
"Nothing, Ron. I just want to be alone." He said this, but he wouldn't look at me while he said it.
"Bull. Harry, are you in danger? Is He not dead yet? Is he coming for you? Because hiding won't do anything to help," I tried, though I was beginning to doubt it.
"No. I killed Voldemort."
I still felt ill-at-ease when he said that name, but I had learned not to react. No flinching, no shuddering. And then it hit me what he was saying. "He's dead?"
"Yes," Harry said, still not meeting my eyes. Instead he went over to a small box and began to pour himself a drink.
"Harry!" I shouted, sitting up. "Do you know what this means? You don't have to worry about him anymore! You can have a normal life! Take your NEWTS! Get a job! Heck, marry Ginny! You don't have to worry about dying anymore." I was ecstatic. This was excellent. Amazing.
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron. Nothing's changed." He didn't look up from his drink
I stood up. "Everything's changed, Harry! Won't you listen?"
"NO, RON!" Well, at least he put the drink down. However, he did this by throwing it as hard as he could at the wall. "Why won't you listen? Voldemort may be gone, but Death Eaters are still out there! They'll come after everyone close to me! NO ONE IS SAFE!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of floo powder. "All I can do is leave. I don't need to do this anymore." He pulled out his wand and tossed it to me. "I don't need to be a wizard."
"So, that's it then?" I said feeling the wand in my hand, trying to grasp what he was saying. " You're just going to leave."
"You don't understand, Ron," Harry said, his voice reaching normal decibels now. "I'm just afraid for you."
"No, Harry," I said, nearly whispering. I finally figured this all out. "You're afraid for yourself."
And without another word he through his floo powder into the fire and went to the Dursley's.
And I didn't want to go after him.
s-c-e-n-e-0-c-h-a-n-g-e
Harry left Azkaban quickly his conversation with Lucius still spinning in his head. Every memory of Draco coming forward. Wondering why he never saw it coming, that Draco would do all this for power. And thinking that he had to find Hermione and make her listen to him. Finally he reached her apartment.
"Hermione?" Harry called as he entered, with the key she had leant him. "Are you here?"
"No, she's not," answered Ron's voice from the kitchen. Harry curiously made his way to the kitchen to find Ron sitting at the table with a steaming mug in hand.
"What are you doing here?" he asked Ron.
Ron smiled a held up the mug. "I was down the street and had the desperate need for coffee. Hermione says I can come here whenever I like, and coffee is free here, so..."
Harry grinned. "At least some things are the same."
"And some things aren't," Ron said, still smiling, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "You just have to deal with them."
"I feel like that might have been a hurtful remark towards me," Harry said, feeling as if his friends smile was a little too wide.
"I wonder where you got that idea," Ron answered, the grin not leaving his face.
"We need to talk, don't we?" Harry asked, giving up hope that this talk would never have to come.
"Well, since you suggested it." Ron's face finally fell into a firm frown. "I'm still not sure I like you."
Harry nodded. "That would come along with hating me for years, wouldn't it?"
"It might have." Ron sat down, sipping his coffee. "Have a seat. Unless, you need to be somewhere..."
"No. I don't have to be anywhere," Harry said, he then took a wild guess about what Ron wished to talk about. "Listen, that day I left-"
"I don't need you to talk, Harry," Ron interrupted. "I think you need to listen for once."
"That's all I've been doing lately," Harry responded.
"But not to me," Ron said, his voice still cool.
"And what will you tell me that I haven't heard before? About Charlie, Ginny-"
"About me, Harry. You keep forgetting about me. Charlie and Ginny weren't the only people that you hurt. When you left, you hurt everyone, turned their worlds upside down. They could have blamed you and they did for the most part. But they also blamed me." Ron's voice finally betrayed some emotion. However the emotion was hate and anger, not what Harry wanted to hear at all.
"You?" Harry couldn't register what he was being told. Why would anyone blame Ron?
"I'm the one who saw you last, remember? If I had only been more convincing, or stronger, or more powerful, I could have kept you there. They all thought this. They didn't tell me, but I know they did." His voice wavered.
Harry hadn't pitied Ron. He had thought that Ron would have become stronger while Harry was away. Ron would have grown, become more independent, finally been seen as his own person. Harry had told himself this for years, whenever he felt bad about leaving. He had never thought...
"I just thought you should know that," Ron continued. "While you're trying to become accepted again, think of the hell you put me through for the past seven years."
"Not to sound like an eight-year-old, but we are still friends right?" Harry asked with trepidation. He knew he sounded stupid, but didn't care too much.
Ron sighed. "I don't know. It's a very conflicting issue. Sometimes, I'd rather not see you ever again. Other times... I don't know."
"Is there anything I can do?" Harry tried.
Ron smirked "Apologize?" he said with a shrug.
"I've done that," Harry said, exasperated.
"Yeah, but really this time. Not as if you feel like you have to, but because you actually feel sorry for the hell you put all of us through," Ron snapped.
"I do," Harry said quickly. "I mean, I am sorry. I had no idea what-"
"And if you did, Harry," Ron cut in. "If you knew all that you know now, would you still have left?"
Harry knew the right answer. He knew that he should say he wouldn't have left. But what about his career? He had helped people in the past seven years, people who would have died without him. What about them? Didn't they matter? Weren't their lives just as important as the lives of his friends? "Ron," he sighed.
"Harry," Ron responded, warningly.
"It's just that… when I was a kid, I was nobody. Just a regular person. I became a wizard, and that all changed. It was getting to my head, I know you noticed. I needed time to-"
"Bullocks, Harry!" Ron shouted, losing his cool. He then sighed, and placed his coffee cup on the table. He stood up, straightening his robes. "Find me when you can figure everything out." Ron apparated away, leaving Harry alone in a worse state of mind than he had been earlier.
His best friend was angry with him, and had a right to be. After all, Harry had just left him to deal with everything. His old girlfriend had been anorexic, and that was his fault as well. Finally, his other best friend was marrying a Death Eater.
That was what Lucius had said, anyways. Believing his worst enemy might not have been the smartest thing to do, but for some reason he did. He felt it in his gut that Malfoy may not have changed as much as everyone had suspected. Being a police officer for the past five years had taught him to trust his gut.
Speaking of being a police officer, Harry thought as his cell phone went off. He knew who it was; didn't even have to look at the caller ID. Harry answered, saying "Good afternoon, Lieutenant Jones."
"Don't be cute with me, Potter," his boss growled over the crackle of static over the cell phone. "I have so many reporters on my back about the Abbot Case, I don't know what to do with them. What have you learned about the case, so far?"
"Er..." Harry had quite forgotten about the case he had been working on. "Well, I still suspect a British Mob," he said cautiously.
"Potter," Jones said slowly, "you should know that I gave you a week. It's been two days. And you know the same amount you did before you left. Is that accurate?"
"Yes, sir," Harry sighed.
"Alright. I know you're friend is getting married, but that's not an excuse that's going to fly with this girls parents. Hannah Abbot was murdered with out any marks on her at all. Her family is a wreck and the reporters sense that we're not giving this all of our attention. So get on this, damn it!"
But Harry had stopped listening. "Did you say Hannah Abbot?" He knew that name.
"Potter, please tell me you knew the name of the girl who was killed in the case you were investigating." Jones sounded absolutely livid, but Harry didn't care. Something had clicked. And it wasn't a good click.
"I'll call you back tomorrow," Harry muttered and turned off his phone.
Hannah Abbot, he thought to himself, trying to conjure up a mental image. Nothing was coming to mind, but he knew he knew her. She had to have been a Hogwarts student.
A knock came from the front door, interrupting Harry's pondering. Seeing as he was the only one in the apartment, he figured he might as well answer the door. Probably the mailman, he figured.
It wasn't. It was, none other, than Seamus Finnegan. "Harry!" he said, throwing out his arms. "It's been forever! How've you been?"
Harry didn't think it tactful to tell him he had seen him the night before. After all, Seamus had been extremely drunk at the time. "Fine. How are you?"
"Wonderful! Just here to drop of a present for the soon to be Mrs. Malfoy." Harry tried not to shudder at the concept. Seamus didn't seem to notice, however. "Where is she, by the way?"
Harry shrugged. "I have no idea. I was looking for her myself."
"Well, if you see her, " Seamus continued, "give her this for me." He thrust a small brown package into Harry's arms. "Tell her who it's from and all that. I'll see you at the wedding tomorrow, Harry." Seamus turned and started to head down the hallway.
"Hey, wait!" Harry said, suddenly having an idea. Seamus stopped and looked back at him. "Do you remember Hannah Abbot?" Harry asked.
"Blonde girl," Seamus told him. "Hufflepuff, friends with Ernie and Justin. She wore her hair in pigtails until fourth year. Then she started dating. She went out with Terry Boot for about a year, then Michael Corner, but that didn't last long at all. She dated Dean right after Ginny dumped him. That's when people started calling her "Rebound Hannah," which was not a clever nickname at all. She started dating this Buexbuton bloke, named... Johnny Richard, I think. Anyway, after she graduated she moved away with him and I haven't heard from her since."
Harry remembered her now. Not most of that stuff about who she was dating, but he remembered her gossiping with Ernie about Harry in second year. "How'd you remember all that?" Harry asked, somewhat impressed.
"I just do. Gotta run though. Catch you later." And he scampered off down the hallway. Harry now knew what he had to do today. No use finding Hermione now, he had a murder to solve.
A/N: Another very long chapter. Well, long for us, anyways. Bet you all forgot about that murder thing, didn't you? Well, it's back! And it might actually be important.
Um... we kind of redid chapter 1. If you are an extremely bored person, you might want to go read it and see what we did. It's not like, crucial or anything. But if you are a good friend of ours... like Molly... you could read it and tell us if its more confusing or less so. Thanks.
