Don't believe what you hear, don't believe what you see

The ride to the castle was uneventful. Ron had asked gently why Harry hadn't come to the Burrow that summer although Dumbledore had okayed it in July. Harry could see the hurt in Ron's eyes, but truthfully, Harry didn't have an answer for him.

Harry's summer had been different from his previous ones with the Dursleys. It seemed that Uncle Vernon had took the Order members' warning to heart. Harry was no longer asked to do any housework, nor was he ever forbidden to leave the premises. In other words, his existence had been completely ignored.

At first, Harry hadn't noticed the change that had occurred because of his grief over Sirius's death. He had been brushing his teeth in the bathroom on his third night back when it had finally hit him. He had almost choked on the toothpaste as he was sobbing so violently. He had managed to get back to his room, and didn't leave it for a week. He would sneak out to the bathroom when he was sure that no-one would be around and raided the kitchen for food at night when the Dursley's were sleeping. He really just wanted to be left alone.

So when he finally re-emerged from his room on his second week of summer, he and the Dusley's had already fallen to a mutual habit of ignoring each other. Harry soon started spending his days away from the house.

Little Whinging was a tedious place. The armpit of Surrey, really. When Harry wasn't just wondering aimlessly, he was either at the local library or working as a dishwasher at a local eating-house. He was pretty pointless to escape the housework at the Dursley's for that, but at least he got some nickels out of it. And that money was truly his, not his parents' or the winnings of some blasted tournament.

So he spend his summer alone, both physically and mentally. He kept regularly in touch with the Order and his friends so that they knew he was all right, but the letters were impersonal. Now, sitting in the same coach with said friends and Neville Longbottom, the mood was somewhat strained. Harry kept his eyes on the looming castle of Hogwarts and nobody said a word. Not even Neville.

The mood of the school had changed over the summer as well. Voldemort's return was common knowledge now. Death Eater activity had been pretty low during the summer, but students were afraid. Even those who hadn't even been born before Voldemort's first fall were well informed of the terror he had inflicted.

A small group of Slytherins were really taking full advantage of their peers' fears in the uncertain situation. The teacher were incapable to stop the mental and sometimes even physical bullying they executed on their class mates. The culprits made sure not to be caught red handed and the victims were too afraid for themselves and their families back home the name their attackers.

Harry, like others, was constantly on guard while outside the Gryffindor common room. During the first weeks of classes he made sure not to walk alone in the corridors, but soon he realized that he was not a target. Maybe the slytherins though that attacking the Boy Who Lived was not wise, especially since Harry wouldn't have any problems naming his aggressors.

So Harry soon fell back to his old habit of wondering off alone with his thoughts. Things were not getting any better between him and the other two of their 'inseparable' trio. They weren't fighting, but they weren't understanding each other either. Harry felt guilty for not telling his friends about the prophecy naming him as Voldemort's only possible killer, since that was probably the biggest thing that was forcing their friendship apart. But Harry still wasn't ready to tell them. He didn't want them to know. But he would, soon.

Mostly Harry spend his time in an abandoned storage room on the second floor. It was a big room, but so full of dusty, broken stuff that most of it was unreachable. From the door one could walk quite easily to a window on the opposite wall. The path was lined with junk; a musty couch and uneven chest of drawers. Harry quickly became fond of an alcove he found left from the window. He placed a worn out armchair in front of it's window. It soon became his favorite place to brood.

It was Wednesday and Harry was making his way to 'the room' on the second floor. It had been quite a few nights since he had been there last. The teachers were bombarding them with homework and although things still weren't like before among the three friends, there was nobody better to study with then Ron and Hermione. Hermione made sure that the work got done while Ron made sure the studying didn't get too serious. Nevertheless, Harry felt that he needed a break from it. Unfortunately it wouldn't be a complete break since he still had to read 15 pages from his potions book that he had with him.

Harry walked up to the door, and with a quick glance to make sure that no-one was around, he pushed the door open. The room wasn't unoccupied.

'Fuck', Harry thought when he saw his least favorite slytherin sitting on the couch with a book on his lap.

Draco jumped when he heard the door open. He couldn't believe his eyes. Freakin' Potter standing at the door. He was really not in the mood for this.

"Potter, what are you doing? Get out!"

Harry made a quick decision. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"No! Look, I've been coming here since the beginning of the school year." Harry was feeling like a six-year-old with his reasoning, but he really didn't want to give 'the room' up.

Draco shot him an incredulous and extremely peeved look. "Well I have been coming here since our fourth year so piss off!"

Harry ran a hand through his hair and weighted his options before meeting Draco's glare. Harry summoned his calmest and most non-offensive voice he could muster at the time and said "I'll go back there. You wont even notice I'm here" before walking carefully past the blonde in to his alcove. He was sure that Draco would come after him demanding that he leave at once, or would at least throw insults or hexes or probably both his way, but Draco's attack never came.

After 5 minutes of waiting unnecessarily for the slytherin to retaliate, Harry cautiously settled on the armchair and pulled his potions book on his lap. In spite of his best efforts, Harry soon found it difficult to concentrate with someone else in the room. Harry could hear every single movement, cough and turning of the page that the other boy made and it was driving him crazy. After almost an hour, Harry could hear the slytherin get up and storm out of the room.

The title of the chapter from Acrobat by U2