Pulling away from Hermione, Harry started walking away. He heard his name being call, but couldn't stop: she said those things, but he knew she didn't mean any of them. He didn't feel like going back to muggle London nor changing back to James. His feet led him to his flat without Harry even noticing. Opening the door, Harry was immediately tackled by Dobby.
"Dobby is so happy to see Master Harry, sir! Where he-"
He was quickly cut off as Harry left, going up the stairs. He flicked his hand and the door locked. Slumping on his bed, his eyes looked up at the ceiling of his room. Soon, his bright emerald eyes that once shone with unshed tears were now looking rather dead and pale, like as when he came back from defeating Voldemort.
His eyes were dull and dead for a different reason: having done what he did and became: being a murder. He had fallen trapped to Dumbledore by then end of his sixth year and there was no way to pull out.
His eyes now were an exact image pure of sadness and alone-ness. He had a chance to live a normal life after defeating Voldemort.... if he only had just asked Hermione to go out with him, but instead- he didn't. He could have had anything he wanted, but he knew he didn't deserve it, nor did he know that Hermione had felt the same way about him. Now he knew that she did, though he couldn't stand to be yelled at like she had been doing so to James.
Pulling himself into the shell that he had done after Sirius' death, Remus' death, Ron's death, and everybody else's, a single lone tear traced the very familiar path down his cheek, off his chin, and down onto the bed.
!!!!!
Hermione walked into the house. Soon, a hysteric Dobby rammed into her.
"What's the matter, Dobby?" she asked.
"Master Harry came home," he hiccupped, "and ignored Dobby. Dobby was bad, very bad, 'Ne."
"No, Dobby. You weren't bad. Harry's just going through a very tough time right now. I'm going to go talk to him right now, Dobby. I'll be down later."
Making her way up the green-carpeted stairwell that Harry had just made his way up not but moments ago; she made her way to his room. Trying the doorknob, it wouldn't turn. Sighing, she pulled out her wand and tapped the doorknob muttering a quick Alohomora.
Upon entering, she took a deep breath, not sure of what she'd tell him or what he'd do. Pushing the door open very slowly (inches at a mere moment), she took in the sight before her: Harry, looking up at the ceiling with a tear going slowly down a path she'd seen it take several times before. Expecting more to come, she just stood, not wanting to make herself present quite yet.
When Harry didn't move, she knew something was wrong. Slowly edging her way to the bed, she looked at Harry. As she slowly let out a breath she'd been holding in, she realized that he was a shell- again- like so many times before: sixth year, after Sirius' death and on his 18th birthday, when he had to battle Voldemort who took away Remus, Ron (Ginny being in St. Mungo's), Dumbledore, Tonks.... the list just goes on....
Before, with Sirius, it had taken until past Christmas- and that was with the help of Remus and everybody else. This past one had taken all of two years and more, though they didn't know that the real reason wasn't that he had lost so many people (he was used to this part), but that Voldemort had used them to get to Harry- and Dumbledore knew all along, too. That night, Harry became a murder to two people, though they only thought he killed one.... but Harry had really killed Dumbledore, too- he didn't die trying to fight of Death Eaters as they so highly thought of him.
What made it even harder on Hermione was the fact that she had cause Harry to be in this right state- and that hurt a lot. She bowed her head and made her way around to the other side of the bed.
Climbing onto the bed, she never took her eyes off of Harry in hope that he'd all of a sudden jump up and shout, "surprise!" or something along the lines of that. But he never did. She crawled along and up to Harry, using his chest as a pillow. Running her hand through his unruly jet-black hair that she had grown to love, she muttered an 'I love you, Harry,' before finally wiping away the tear that had fallen from his right eye.
Getting up for a moment, she gently laid a kiss on his forehead before finally took his hand and laid her head back down on his chest. Covering his hand with feathery light kisses, she held onto it like it was her last lifeline. She fell into a deep slumber, hoping to wake up and Harry was his old self again.
Finally, waking up to a bright light in her face, Hermione stretched and wiggled to get in a more comfortable position again. Her eyes suddenly fluttered open. Wondering what he comfy pillow was, she turned and looked to see Harry in the same position as before she fell asleep. Her mood immediately saddened. Giving a quick sigh, she sat up and called for Dobby. Seconds later, he appeared at the foot of the bed.
"What can Dobby do for 'Ne?"
"Can you please have breakfast ready for me in half an hour? I'll have it in here if you don't mind," she said, putting on a false smile.
"Dobby never minds, oh no! It will be ready for you, 'Ne!"
With that, he left to go get breakfast. Hermione got up herself and went to the library. Summoning the books that would help with the state Harry was in, she made them go to Harry's bedroom: she was in for a long day of reading.
Four days of reading later, she was done with the all the books.
Harry had only gotten up four times, each once a day to go to the bathroom. He always came back the same way, not even acknowledging Hermione the least bit.
Pulling herself away from Harry's room for the first time in four days (except to go to the bathroom), she made her way to her room to get a clean set of muggle clothes and then made her way to the bathroom to take a shower.
A half an hour later, she was ready to leave.... telling Dobby that she'd be back within two hours.
!!!!!
"May I help you with something, miss?" asked the Liberian.
"What? Oh, yes. One of my friends has, well, he's taken his mind away from his body and I can't exactly figure a way to help him. It's happened before, but then he had the help of several other people, but they have all died since.
"Oh my, I'm sorry. Yes, right this way."
!!!!!
At the library, Hermione had found out some very interesting things. Some of the things sounded foolish, but she was willing to try anything to get her Harry back. Upon entering the house, she transformed into one of her more cuddly Animagus forms. Placing paw after paw, paw after paw, she quietly made her way to Harry's room in the form of Boots, a black kitten with white paws.
Jumping up on the bed, she barley made a change to quilt with her weight. Pawing her way over to Harry, she gave a soft meow. Cocking her head to the left, she attentively put a paw on Harry's left leg. He didn't move, so she put up a second paw. She repeated this action until she was fully on Harry leg. She meowed once more- still nothing.
Making the best sigh at kitten could give; she carefully stepped forward until she reached mid-thigh where his hand was. She nudged it, lick it, practically begging to be petted or at least acknowledged. Meowing once again, she stepped forward to his chest where she curled up into a ball. As a last attempt, she meowed a final time. She then rested her head in paws and quickly fell asleep.... with the rising and falling motion of his chest as her lullabye.
Waking, as though she felt eyes on her, she carefully raised her head. Giving a fetal meow, she though to herself, falling asleep in a kitten form is not that easy on your body.
Quickly looking around the room, she saw no one. Getting worried, she looked at Harry. His head was propped up on a pillow looking down at her with a slight smile on his perfect red lips.
"Boots," he said, as he started a hand toward the kitten. She stretched before his hand came in contact with her body. His hand then landed on her stomach and she started to purr as he scratched her belly. Soon after it stopped, she looked up with a kitten-puzzled look on her face.
As she did this, a flash of jet-black fur pounced on her. The black kitten, whose name was Shadow, had Boots pinned down with his front paws on her upper chest, back legs straddling hers. Giving a kitten-moan, they both turned into play-mode. Using her back legs, she pushed him off of herself. As he was getting up, she was looking him in the eye. They were green again, she noted. She gave a kitten-smile and pounced Harry this time.
An hour later, they were both kitten-panting. They then made their way down to the kitchens where Dobby was. Boots meowed at him when he put down two bowls of water.
"Good kitty's," he said, patting each one on the head in turn.
Once in Harry's bedroom again, they both curled up with each other. Boots licked Shadow on the face. He smiled the best a kitten could and rested his head in his paws. Falling asleep quickly, Boots jumped off the bed and transformed back into Hermione. Sighing, she looked down at the other kitten. She quickly and quietly conjured up some parchment and a quill to write a note to Harry that she'd be waiting downstairs when he woke up.
"Dobby is so happy to see Master Harry, sir! Where he-"
He was quickly cut off as Harry left, going up the stairs. He flicked his hand and the door locked. Slumping on his bed, his eyes looked up at the ceiling of his room. Soon, his bright emerald eyes that once shone with unshed tears were now looking rather dead and pale, like as when he came back from defeating Voldemort.
His eyes were dull and dead for a different reason: having done what he did and became: being a murder. He had fallen trapped to Dumbledore by then end of his sixth year and there was no way to pull out.
His eyes now were an exact image pure of sadness and alone-ness. He had a chance to live a normal life after defeating Voldemort.... if he only had just asked Hermione to go out with him, but instead- he didn't. He could have had anything he wanted, but he knew he didn't deserve it, nor did he know that Hermione had felt the same way about him. Now he knew that she did, though he couldn't stand to be yelled at like she had been doing so to James.
Pulling himself into the shell that he had done after Sirius' death, Remus' death, Ron's death, and everybody else's, a single lone tear traced the very familiar path down his cheek, off his chin, and down onto the bed.
!!!!!
Hermione walked into the house. Soon, a hysteric Dobby rammed into her.
"What's the matter, Dobby?" she asked.
"Master Harry came home," he hiccupped, "and ignored Dobby. Dobby was bad, very bad, 'Ne."
"No, Dobby. You weren't bad. Harry's just going through a very tough time right now. I'm going to go talk to him right now, Dobby. I'll be down later."
Making her way up the green-carpeted stairwell that Harry had just made his way up not but moments ago; she made her way to his room. Trying the doorknob, it wouldn't turn. Sighing, she pulled out her wand and tapped the doorknob muttering a quick Alohomora.
Upon entering, she took a deep breath, not sure of what she'd tell him or what he'd do. Pushing the door open very slowly (inches at a mere moment), she took in the sight before her: Harry, looking up at the ceiling with a tear going slowly down a path she'd seen it take several times before. Expecting more to come, she just stood, not wanting to make herself present quite yet.
When Harry didn't move, she knew something was wrong. Slowly edging her way to the bed, she looked at Harry. As she slowly let out a breath she'd been holding in, she realized that he was a shell- again- like so many times before: sixth year, after Sirius' death and on his 18th birthday, when he had to battle Voldemort who took away Remus, Ron (Ginny being in St. Mungo's), Dumbledore, Tonks.... the list just goes on....
Before, with Sirius, it had taken until past Christmas- and that was with the help of Remus and everybody else. This past one had taken all of two years and more, though they didn't know that the real reason wasn't that he had lost so many people (he was used to this part), but that Voldemort had used them to get to Harry- and Dumbledore knew all along, too. That night, Harry became a murder to two people, though they only thought he killed one.... but Harry had really killed Dumbledore, too- he didn't die trying to fight of Death Eaters as they so highly thought of him.
What made it even harder on Hermione was the fact that she had cause Harry to be in this right state- and that hurt a lot. She bowed her head and made her way around to the other side of the bed.
Climbing onto the bed, she never took her eyes off of Harry in hope that he'd all of a sudden jump up and shout, "surprise!" or something along the lines of that. But he never did. She crawled along and up to Harry, using his chest as a pillow. Running her hand through his unruly jet-black hair that she had grown to love, she muttered an 'I love you, Harry,' before finally wiping away the tear that had fallen from his right eye.
Getting up for a moment, she gently laid a kiss on his forehead before finally took his hand and laid her head back down on his chest. Covering his hand with feathery light kisses, she held onto it like it was her last lifeline. She fell into a deep slumber, hoping to wake up and Harry was his old self again.
Finally, waking up to a bright light in her face, Hermione stretched and wiggled to get in a more comfortable position again. Her eyes suddenly fluttered open. Wondering what he comfy pillow was, she turned and looked to see Harry in the same position as before she fell asleep. Her mood immediately saddened. Giving a quick sigh, she sat up and called for Dobby. Seconds later, he appeared at the foot of the bed.
"What can Dobby do for 'Ne?"
"Can you please have breakfast ready for me in half an hour? I'll have it in here if you don't mind," she said, putting on a false smile.
"Dobby never minds, oh no! It will be ready for you, 'Ne!"
With that, he left to go get breakfast. Hermione got up herself and went to the library. Summoning the books that would help with the state Harry was in, she made them go to Harry's bedroom: she was in for a long day of reading.
Four days of reading later, she was done with the all the books.
Harry had only gotten up four times, each once a day to go to the bathroom. He always came back the same way, not even acknowledging Hermione the least bit.
Pulling herself away from Harry's room for the first time in four days (except to go to the bathroom), she made her way to her room to get a clean set of muggle clothes and then made her way to the bathroom to take a shower.
A half an hour later, she was ready to leave.... telling Dobby that she'd be back within two hours.
!!!!!
"May I help you with something, miss?" asked the Liberian.
"What? Oh, yes. One of my friends has, well, he's taken his mind away from his body and I can't exactly figure a way to help him. It's happened before, but then he had the help of several other people, but they have all died since.
"Oh my, I'm sorry. Yes, right this way."
!!!!!
At the library, Hermione had found out some very interesting things. Some of the things sounded foolish, but she was willing to try anything to get her Harry back. Upon entering the house, she transformed into one of her more cuddly Animagus forms. Placing paw after paw, paw after paw, she quietly made her way to Harry's room in the form of Boots, a black kitten with white paws.
Jumping up on the bed, she barley made a change to quilt with her weight. Pawing her way over to Harry, she gave a soft meow. Cocking her head to the left, she attentively put a paw on Harry's left leg. He didn't move, so she put up a second paw. She repeated this action until she was fully on Harry leg. She meowed once more- still nothing.
Making the best sigh at kitten could give; she carefully stepped forward until she reached mid-thigh where his hand was. She nudged it, lick it, practically begging to be petted or at least acknowledged. Meowing once again, she stepped forward to his chest where she curled up into a ball. As a last attempt, she meowed a final time. She then rested her head in paws and quickly fell asleep.... with the rising and falling motion of his chest as her lullabye.
Waking, as though she felt eyes on her, she carefully raised her head. Giving a fetal meow, she though to herself, falling asleep in a kitten form is not that easy on your body.
Quickly looking around the room, she saw no one. Getting worried, she looked at Harry. His head was propped up on a pillow looking down at her with a slight smile on his perfect red lips.
"Boots," he said, as he started a hand toward the kitten. She stretched before his hand came in contact with her body. His hand then landed on her stomach and she started to purr as he scratched her belly. Soon after it stopped, she looked up with a kitten-puzzled look on her face.
As she did this, a flash of jet-black fur pounced on her. The black kitten, whose name was Shadow, had Boots pinned down with his front paws on her upper chest, back legs straddling hers. Giving a kitten-moan, they both turned into play-mode. Using her back legs, she pushed him off of herself. As he was getting up, she was looking him in the eye. They were green again, she noted. She gave a kitten-smile and pounced Harry this time.
An hour later, they were both kitten-panting. They then made their way down to the kitchens where Dobby was. Boots meowed at him when he put down two bowls of water.
"Good kitty's," he said, patting each one on the head in turn.
Once in Harry's bedroom again, they both curled up with each other. Boots licked Shadow on the face. He smiled the best a kitten could and rested his head in his paws. Falling asleep quickly, Boots jumped off the bed and transformed back into Hermione. Sighing, she looked down at the other kitten. She quickly and quietly conjured up some parchment and a quill to write a note to Harry that she'd be waiting downstairs when he woke up.