Chapter 2 - Caught
The day went well enough, considering the excessive amount of Snape Harry had to endure. He ignored Snape mostly, and allowed his mind to wander to other topics. Snape bullied him almost as bad as he did Neville, but Harry would just let his words wash over him, whilst thinking about Hermione. He tried to imagine them together, happy, but every time his nightmares would interfere, and he would end up worse than when he had started. At the end of the lesson, Snape decided that seeing as Harry hadn't paid enough attention, he would be the only one given any homework. They left for Charms, with Ron angrier than Harry about this move. In Charms, Harry was still in his own little world and accidentally set the rabbit he was supposed to be shaving on fire. Hermione quickly put it out, and it sat there smoking quietly while Hermione gave him a meaningful glance that said, You're going to talk to me later. Harry was given yet more homework.
When they got back to the common room, Harry collapsed into a chair and after a brief rest, pulled his Potions essay towards him. Hermione sat next to him and asked what was wrong.
"Hermione, what's the correct amount of Squishlepop pods for a Scapegoat Solution?"
"Harry, it's 4 adult pods, but you're avoiding the question!"
"Thanks Hermione. Hey, Ron, when's Quidditch practice start?"
"Harry, Hermione's asking you something."
"Yeah, and I'm asking YOU something!"
"Harry, what's wrong?" pleaded Hermione. "You won't talk to me, and you're mind is always a million miles from the task at hand! Please tell me what is going on!"
He looked up directly at her for the first time in weeks, and said quietly, "Isn't it obvious?"
Hermione seemed rather taken aback by this question, and Harry took his things and wandered up the staircase to the boys dorms, leaving her with a stunned expression on her face.
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Harry threw his things under his bed and collapsed to his knees, head in his hands. He was sorely tempted to cry, but he had done away with that a long time ago. It was no longer his way to deal with things. Instead he pulled out his knife and sat staring at it for a long time. He considered actually using it, something he had refrained from for fear that he would not be able to stop. (A/N: Trust me this is true. If any of you even THINK of this, disregard it. Because seriously, if you DO start, you won't be stopping anytime soon.) He thought about it for a while, then came to a decision. Just as he put the blade to his wrist, he heard footsteps outside and shouted goodnights. Hastily, he stuffed the knife back into his dresser and flung himself back onto his bed. As he hit the mattress, the door opened and Ron came in. He stopped short when he saw Harry hit the wall from his momentum.
"What were you doing?" Ron asked suspiciously. He took a few wary steps toward Harry. "You had it out, didn't you?"
Harry nodded slowly, trying to rub the feeling back into his shoulder.
Ron gave an exasperated sigh. "Harry! DON'T DO IT!"
"What? I didn't use it," he said innocently. "I was just looking at it."
"Don't scare me like that Harry! What would Hermione say if she knew!"
"I don't know, Ron! Why do you think I haven't told her!"
"JUST DON'T, OKAY!" Ron took a few breaths to calm himself down. "I'm going to sleep. I'll see you in the morning, and if I find you've even touched it, I'm going to tell Hermione you've got it."
He shut the curtains around his four-poster, leaving Harry to gape at where Ron's face had been a few seconds ago.
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Ron woke the next morning after a rather pleasant dream to find Harry already gone, most likely to breakfast. He pulled on his robes, splashed some water on his face and headed downstairs. He walked into the Great Hall to find it half-empty, with Harry sitting at the far end of the table, Hermione across from him. Judging from the way Hermione wasn't touching her food, but leaning over the table to Harry, and the way Harry wasn't answering and simply poking his food with his fork, suggested to Ron that Hermione was trying to persuade Harry to tell her what was wrong. He set off down the table to join them, and as he got closer he could hear them talking.
"… and I'm sure you would tell me if it was something small, so it has to be something big and important, so naturally I'm worried!"
"Don't be," Harry mumbled back.
"Just drop it for a while, Hermione. I'm sure Harry will tell us when he's ready." Ron sat down next to Harry, and pulled some toast and eggs towards him. "Mornin', by the way," he said eventually through a mouthful of toast.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Good morning to you too Ron, and it's just that I'm so worried about him, I can't just sit here and watch him suffer!"
"I'm not suffering," said Harry. "Just being murdered on the inside. You know, the really slow, painful way?"
"Not at all funny, Harry."
He shrugged offhandedly. "Yeah well, I never am. And seriously Hermione, I'll be fine!"
She stared at him for a while, hoping that he would wither and tell her what she wanted to know. But he just sat there, until he finally actually put some of his food in his mouth, and somehow that seemed to close the matter for Hermione.
"You'd better be," she whispered to herself. "You'd better be."