And once again with the "not mine, never will be mine, and oh woe is me." Yup. Angst ahead, lookout. And spoilers. Don't forget the ever-present threat of my telling you more than you want to know if you haven't read all the books up to this point.
"Harry, are you sure you're all right?"
Hermione's voice was shrill with anxiety, her dark eyes too wide in her freckled face. She was worried, after all. Harry never slept the night through anymore, it seemed. Morning after morning they would find him down here, sprawled on a couch or curled up in a chair, features that should be soft in sleep drawn into lines of... something not unlike pain.
"I'm fine, 'Mione. Honest," breathed Harry in what seemed like a scripted response. It was the same. She mothered, he brushed her off, and Ron...
"Come on, then. We'll see you down for breakfast, mate," the redhead managed a terse nod and latched onto Hermione's arm, tugging her away from a grateful Harry. It was a guy's credo: If he says he's fine, he's fine and don't ask weird girly questions or delve into emotions. Harry had never been more relieved that Ron was so firmly entrenched in that particular belief- probably ought to thank his brothers. Growing up in a household with that many guys was bound to result in Ron's intense discomfort with anything remotely resembling a heart-to-heart discussion.
True to his word, Harry made a dutiful appearance in the Great Hall, robes rumpled and glasses askew. He pointedly ignored the snickers from the Slytherin table, the jibes about his hastily combed hair or nattering about how the golden boy looked like he hadn't slept in a week, was he afraid of the dark? Sliding onto the bench between Ron and Dean Thomas, he snagged a piece of toast and began mutilating it in an absent-minded fashion. Hermione, seated on the other side of Ron, nudged him with a sharp elbow and made furious gestures in Harry's direction. Ron rolled his eyes, but obligingly caught up the bowl of eggs and a plate of sausages, pushing them toward his friend.
"Oughta eat something, Harry. You know, 'cause we've got practice later and you'll need the energy," he concluded lamely, stuffing his own mouth with a heavily-buttered piece of toast to hide how awkward he felt.
"Not really hungry, thanks," mumbled Harry, his attention clearly elsewhere. Several worried pairs of eyes rested upon his slight, hunched figure, most of them at the Gryffindor table. However, a few of the teachers had taken an interest in his...well, in his disinterest, and were also focused upon the boy still picking at his food.
The boy had withdrawn into himself after the disastrous events at the Department of Mysteries, his formerly boundless enthusiasm and curiosity waning. His grades were fine, he still played Quidditch, he still kept on like nothing was wrong... but it was. He was missing some vital spark, some crucial but indefinable something, and it was slowly taking its toll. Add in the fact that Harry refused to really talk about anything- his feelings, his fears, his grief- and more than one person began fearing for his sanity.
So the Gryffindors worried and the Slytherins smirked, the other Houses torn between the two and trying to remain aloof from this little drama. And the teachers? Some were concerned, others painfully aware of their own roles in the current situation and what little control they had after all.
"Really, Harry. At least have another piece of toast," coaxed Ginny, seating herself across from the trio. Exchanging a look with Hermione, she pushed yet another plate in Harry's direction only to have him shoot up from his seat, green eyes dark with irritation.
"Stop trying to baby me, all right? I'm just not hungry. That's it. Leave off, already," and with that pronouncement, curiously flat in tone, he stormed out of the Hall.
At the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy watched the exchange with an unreadable expression. He took note of the aftermath of Harry's quiet tantrum, the stricken look on Granger's face, the..ew... uncouth way that Weasley gaped, soggy half-chewed eggs visible to all. All filed away in the labrynthine depths of his mind, to be contemplated at a later time. For now, he settled for a sneer at Goyle, who was trying to fit yet another sausage link in his maw, before sweeping out of the Hall himself.
Harry was feeling immeasurably glad it was a Saturday. He didn't think he could face classes today- a sea of eyes all staring at the back of his head, wondering when he was going to snap. If they thought he didn't notice, they were sadly mistaken. As usual, he thought with a snort. Everyone was always wrong about him, and it was going to get them killed. Oh, Merlin... he had already gotten people killed. Sirius, he moaned silently, burying his face in his hands.
The young wizard had retreated to the lake's edge, perched on a crudely hewn stone bench. He knew they'd leave him alone, at least for a while. No one intruded on him out here- it was his place. And maybe it was a bit too close to the forest's edge, but he knew Hagrid was within shouting distance should need be.
Peeking between his fingers, he watched ripples dance across the lake's surface. The squid must be restless today. Either that, or... ah. Rain. He hadn't noticed the small droplets pelting him up to this point, too lost in his own misery and a half-hearted attempt at introspection. Tipping up angular features, he let the stinging drops land upon parted lips, plink against the lenses of his glasses. He'd always liked rain- it was raining when Hagrid came to tell him about the wizarding world, and it was often raining on his birthdays.
The light shower was swiftly becoming a downpour, plastering unruly raven locks to Harry's head, sodden robes sticking to a slight frame that was beginning to shiver imperceptibly. He supposed he should head back inside, but why? He wasn't going to melt, or wash away... and the rain wasn't at all judgemental; it wouldn't natter him, pester him, watch him for signs of the inevitable nervous breakdown. But if he stayed here, someone would come looking to draw him back inside- like a pet that needs looking after, he thought.
Grimly determined not to be coaxed back inside by well-intentioned friends, he gathered wet robes around him and set off on the path that wound around the lake. It didn't go anywhere, he and Ron had explored it already in the boyish, half-formed hope it would lead to a cave or something equally exciting. Really, it just wound in and out of the forest's edge, never leading far enough in to warrant a warning against traversing its path.
He knew he was being foolish. Irresponsible Gryffindor, he berated himself in Professor Snape's disapproving baritone. But he was tired of going through the motions, and if walking in the rain made him feel better... made him feel anything, then he was going to do it.
And damn the consequences, anyway.
"What do you mean, you haven't seen him?"
"He wasn't at practice, 'Mione. I haven't seen him since breakfast."
"He's probably out by the lake again... we should go find him before the weather gets worse."
Draco listened as the voices faded, echoing oddly in the long hallway outside the library. The blond had been on his way to do some early research for a potion's essay, as the Gryffindor's had booked the practice field for the day. Imagine his surprise at hearing that not only did the Golden Boy not show up for that scheduled practice, he was also missing. Not missing, avoiding, he mentally corrected himself. It was an activity he was intimately familiar with, himself.
Still, how interesting that the illustrious Harry Potter should indulge in such a sneaky pastime, hiding out from his friends and causing so much worry. This could be useful... very useful. A fine-boned hand snuck within the folds of his robes, further crinkling a letter that had arrived days before. He knew the words by heart, now, had committed every threat and nuance to memory.
And now... opportunity had presented itself. It would be so easy to take advantage, but dare he? Trademark smirk wending its way across thin lips, he pivoted and headed swiftly back down toward the dungeons. So much to do and so little time...