The Aftermath

Chapter Eleven

Waiting on a Reaction

Meanwhile, Harry was getting into bed. Much to his surprise, the shoulder of his shirt wasn't soaking with tears.

Harry dropped into bed and pulled up the covers. At the moment, he was much too tired to think. But one thought did have time to enter Harry's mind before his head dropped upon his pillow.

What is it about her? He thought, his eyelids drooping. That was a question that had many answers to it, and he was okay with that, believe it or not.

Harry woke up late the next morning, right near eleven, yet he stayed in bed a few more moments mulling over the dream, or vision, whatever it was that he had a few weeks ago. He just realized – the girl's voice he had heard must have been Liz. What else had he heard? He thought hard. He heard . . . the thud of a box, and maybe a bird sound. He couldn't account for the hawk he could've sworn he heard, but the thud of a box was probably a bump of a suitcase. Liz had escaped out of that room before Voldemort had blasted his way in and killed her parents. Harry knew that Liz's mother must be dead. He didn't know why Liz wanted to cling so desperately to a false hope. And he wondered why she wasn't more upset. When Sirius had died, the last thing he wanted to think about was Sirius. Liz wanted to watch home videos. He would never understand girls. Forget that, he just couldn't understand Liz, including the fact that she looked different every time he saw her.

There was also another thing he became conscious of. HE knew what Voldemort had been after, that key or whatever it was. But did Liz know?

He got dressed and, remembering suddenly about those circle sofa teleport things, took one of them down to the hall sofa outside the dining room. He bounced off and went in the door. Already people were cleaning up.

Ron looked up and saw him. "Where were you, mate? I was about to eat your waffles!"

Harry saw a plate of three Belgian waffles sitting in solitude on the table. He sat down and poured some syrup onto them. They tasted delicious even if they weren't warm. "I slept in," he said to Ron as Moochi came by and took the syrup canister. "I guess I was more tired than I thought I was."

For some reason, Ron snickered.

"What?"

"Well, it's just that neither you nor Liz came to breakfast this morning," he said with a grin appearing.

"Are you saying - ?"

"And Fred and George made the suggestion that – "

Ginny came over and hit Ron on the shoulder. "You are so immature!" She rolled her eyes and took some plates over to Dolly, who was washing the dishes.

"Liz didn't come to breakfast?" Harry asked, although it didn't surprise him.

"Nope," Hermione said, sitting on Harry's other side and taking a bit of his waffle.

Harry hurriedly finished the rest of his breakfast, chugging down a glass of milk. "Okay, got to go!" he said, rising from his chair and running to the door, leaving Ron, Hermione, and Ginny staring blankly after him.

"What was that?" Ron asked the two, who shook their heads in response, confused.

Harry was sprinting around the whole of Moonlight Manor, a map in hand. He wished it were exactly like the Marauders Map because at least then he wouldn't have to – "Bloody run these stupid long halls!" he said to himself.

It was two o'clock in the afternoon and she wasn't anywhere in her room, or as far as Harry could tell, anywhere in the house. He had checked the basement, the first floor, the second, the third, and the fourth floors. The only place he hadn't checked yet was the roof.

He was halfway up the stairs to the fifth floor, which he hadn't been to yet, when he stopped. He wondered whether or not he should be trying to go after Liz. What if she wanted to be alone? And she had abruptly thrown him out the night before. What if she didn't want to see anyone? What if she didn't want to see him?

"You know what?" he spoke to the air. "Life's a whole lot simpler when you don't think too much."

Despite logic pointing to the contrary, Harry decided to go up and look for Liz anyway. He opened the door at the top of the staircase and was greeted by blazing daylight. Blinking, Harry stepped out onto what seemed like the biggest backyard a person could have, except of course that it was on top of the house instead of behind.

Harry was standing in the middle of a well cared for garden with smooth lawns, carefully trimmed hedges, and flowers planted in patterns all around. Everything seemed to be organized in giant swirls, like the winding path that Harry was standing on. It was broad with a wide strip of what looked like marble in the middle and cobblestones on the border. It also had many paths branching off of it. Just beyond the garden Harry saw what looked like a school playground, and next to that a park looking place, and beyond that –

Harry gasped. "A Quidditch field!"

Once Harry had gotten over that shock, he heard the sounds of animals coming from his left. Looking down the path, he saw what looked like a picnic basket. Harry paused, then hurried down it. He stopped by the basket and saw that whoever brought it had eaten the some of the contents but apparently saved some for a snack later. Further along the path Harry found a pair of roller blades. Harry went farther down the path and found Liz in her pajamas, lying down on a picnic blanket, reading a book, and petting her dog absentmindedly. It was such a peaceful sight that Harry didn't feel like he had the right to intrude.

"Hey," Harry said finally.

Liz looked up at him from her book. "Hi," she said before turning back to it.

Harry tried again. "I didn't see you this morning for breakfast. There were waffles."

"I'm sorry I missed them," Liz said.

"I'm sure the waffles were missing you too," Harry said.

Liz smiled briefly.

Harry continued. "As were some of the people. Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were wondering where you were. I think they were a little worried. I was too."

Liz blinked and looked up at Harry. "Really?"

The dog cocked its head at Harry too.

"Well," Harry said. "I know I was. And the others asked about you."

There was a pause in which Liz just looked contemplatively at Harry. After a bit, she said, "I don't get it."

It was Harry's turn to blink. "Hm?"

"I mean," Liz said, "I don't get why you guys would worry. I mean, no offense or anything, but apart from Ginny, each of you, including you too Harry, hardly know me."

Harry stood frozen for a moment. Then he shrugged. "But what we all do know, we like. You seem like a nice enough person – we'd all like a chance to know you better and eventually become friends. I mean, it's an age-old system. You meet someone new, you get to know them, and either you become friends or you don't."

Liz nodded. "True," she said, putting her book down and sitting up. "Sorry I pounced like that. I just get a little paranoid. Ask Ginny and she'll tell you what most of the girls in our year are like. They, alone, can make anybody paranoid about people."

"Well, for someone paranoid about people, you're sure willing to open up to complete strangers . . . almost," Harry said. "I know that we hardly know each other, but if you ever need any . . . impartial person you need to talk to . . . "

"I know," Liz said, pulling up a blade of grass. "But like I said before, Harry, I don't want to burden you with my problems."

"You can."

"I appreciate that," she said hesitantly, "it really isn't any of your business." Why couldn't he just leave it alone? She thought.

Wow, Harry thought. She could have just said 'drop it.'

"To speak frankly, Liz," he said, keeping his voice expressionless. "Anything concerning Voldemort does is pretty much my business." And she knew why. Well, the prophecy reason anyway.

She sighed. "Sorry."

Harry shrugged.

Continuing in a softer tone, Liz said, "But you understand why anything concerning my parents . . . why I'd like to keep it my business, right?"

Harry nodded.

"I mean, it's not like you're all that involved in my parents' business with Voldemort anyway," Liz said.

Harry frowned at her. "So Lupin didn't tell you exactly what tipped him off about your parents?"

"What do you mean? I assumed that the fact that my father was missing for three days was enough of a reason for him to check up on me at my uncle's."

"I suppose. But he knew pretty much the morning after the attack."

"How?"

Harry turned to look her straight in the eye. "Through me."

"Again, I don't see how."

"How doesn't matter, and the details in that department aren't very fine-tuned, but it was because of me that Dumbledore was alerted of the attack on your parents," Harry answered her.

He didn't know quite why he was telling her this. He trusted her, sure, but he knew that there'd be a big thing of it afterward. In fact, in the very back of his mind, he wanted to goad Liz into a tantrum. At least then he'd know she was capable of making a big deal of something, if not her parents' deaths.

"Wait, you knew that my father was dead and you never told me?"

"Well, how was I supposed to know he was your father?"

"What, you can't make a connection between a dead man and a girl who doesn't seem to have her father there? What exactly did you . . . how did you know?"

"I saw it in a sort of . . . vision, I guess you could call it – except only as things were happening, not before. Don't ask me how, because I don't know," Harry couldn't believe he just said that. Did he want to make her mad?

"Well what happened?" she said, truly getting angry. "If you really had a vision of that night," she said, with a bit of sarcasm, "you couldn't recognize me? Because I was there, believe it or not."

"How do you know whose view I saw it from?"

"But that still doesn't change the fact you knew about my father! There are pictures of him all around the place, and if you saw him die, don't you think the man in those pictures would look familiar."

"He did look familiar, but I wasn't about to jump to conclusions. When I jump to conclusion . . ." Harry stopped at the thought of his Godfather. "Well, bad things happen," he finished.

She stared at him. "If you did know, which you should have, would you have told me?"

"Would you have wanted to know?"

She paused. "Yes."

"I don't think you mean that."

"And why do you think so?"

"Ever hear the expression 'ignorance is bliss'?"

"But not knowing whether my parents were alive or not, all the doubt and the wondering over the possibilities would be infinitely worse!"

"And what about having hope?"

"But I'd rather know the truth!"

"Oh really?"

Liz rolled her eyes and stood up. "You know what Harry? I don't understand you. Don't talk to me again today. I need a bit of a break from everyone."

"Oh, so you prefer the company of dogs rather than of people?" Harry said, gesturing to the husky. The husky growled at him.

She glared daggers at him. "Apparently, or I wouldn't hang around with you as much!" and she stomped off.

So she didn't understand him. Well he didn't understand her either! He wanted to understand her, that's why he wanted to talk to her. Something told him he went about it the wrong way. Or was she just trying to distance herself from him? If she was, he knew he made it entirely too easy for her.

A/N: I know, they're both being bitchity (my word!) In fact, she is trying to distance herself from him – you'll find out why later. Maybe she's afraid she's putting him in danger. Maybe she just doesn't like him. Maybe there's some other reason. Maybe it's a few reasons combined. I know, and you don't, but don't worry you will.