…Ten.

Summery: Harry is trapped at Grimald's Place with nowhere else to go. He is trapped in his own mind, forced to relive his Godfather's terrible death over and over again. Hermione tries to help him through it and comes to find that what is bothering Harry is not just the fact that Sirius is dead… HHr

Through the big open window shone the powerful, warm sun into the lonely, cold room. A boy, around the age of sixteen, sat in the darkest corner, eyes wide. He was curled up into a ball; his legs up against his chest and his strong arms wrapped around his legs. He looked so helpless, so lost, so cold. His cold soul invaded the room as if he was controlling his surroundings. Everything was cold. Cold and dark.

He began rocking back and forth, eyes still wide, if not wider. A look of shock was upon his face. As he rocked back and forth, he began to tremble. Thoughts raced through his mind. Thoughts people like you and me could never understand and would never think. Images played before his eyes and he was unable to look away. No matter how hard he tried to rid them, scenes of his terrible past flashed before him. The worst moments in his life were confirmed. His last year at school stood out particularly. Umbridge, the 'Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor' and her unusual detentions, which Harry still had scars from. The Department of Mysteries and the Prophecy. Sirius' death. Voldemort. Hermione. It all came flooding back.

The one door that led into the room opened. A figure walked over to the cold, dark boy and sat down. She stared at him for the longest time, hoping he would go first. He always went first before. Nothing could stop him. But this time, something had. She knew what it was, what had happened. She knew he needed to talk about it. Everyone needed to talk about it. But he never talked. He listened. He took action. But he never talked. Talking was a flaw. It was a flaw for everyone. But he never took a chance. A chance to let it all out. He always kept it in; deep inside. And now, when he needed to let it out, he did not know how…and how do you teach someone that?

"Harry?" The figure that had entered the room spoke up. She never took her eyes off of him, thinking he would suddenly pour out his deepest feelings and darkest thoughts to her. But he did not. He never did. "Harry? Can't you just talk to me? I'm tired of being left in the dark with you!"

Harry turned his head towards her slowly. His face was oddly pale and his eyes dull green. He stared at her for a little, as if he had never seen anything like her before. As he did so, undeniable rage flashed across his face. "You being in the dark! Are you kidding me? Or are you really that…self-centered to say that to me?"

He was yelling at her. That seemed to be all he did anymore. He would yell louder and louder if you were in his way or if you said something he did not agree with. It was as if he thought that yelling could solve all his problems. He just did not know how to deal with it anymore. There was just too much that happened in so little time. How is a sixteen year old supposed to deal with all this pressure? The whole world was on his shoulders. But how could anyone possible know what that felt like?

"Me?" The girl started to look outraged herself. She could not believe her ears. "Me, self-centered? Who's the one going around acting like no one can relate? Who's the one shutting everyone out that wants to help him?"

"Because no one can relate, Hermione! And no matter how hard anyone tries, no one can help me! I'm on my own! What's so hard about that that you can not understand?" Harry turned away from her as if he was disgusted by the mere thought of her.

Hermione stared at him for the longest time, almost terrified to talk. She stared at the wall opposite from her, thinking about what she could say. She could not say anything because she had no idea what he was going on about. She never did anymore. He never listened. He never talked.

"How do you know until you try, Harry? You're not on your own. I'm right here. I've always been right here. And I'm always going to be right here. So…just talk to me!" She looked at him with pleading eyes.

He did not look at her. He could not look at her. If he did, it would all come out. He did not want it all to come out. The reason for his actions was simple; he wanted her to stay away. Her staying away was her only chance at safety.

"I can't and I won't," Harry said in a low, cold voice. He looked over at her suddenly. "And don't make promises you can't keep. It's hard enough…" He broke off, not being able to continue.

Hermione sighed, scooting closer to Harry. She laid her head against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. "What promises can't I keep? And what's hard enough? I'm your friend, Harry. I'll even go as far as best friend because that's what you are to me. So…what are best friends if they don't unload on each other once and a while?" She smiled slightly. "I mean, if this is just about Sirius, you have-."

"Just about Sirius?" Harry interrupted her. He was glaring at her as if she was his mortal enemy. No, as if she was Voldemort himself. "Sirius's death is not just some common subject…like the weather. Sirius was the only family I had! Now I'm alone!"

"You're not alone, Harry! Do I not exist? Am I not enough?" she asked Harry, looking hurt. She looked down at the floor, fiddling with her shoelace. "Maybe…I dunno…I've just been stupid all this time…but I thought that…well…you cared about me like I was family. I mean, that's how I see you, Harry. You've become this enormous part of my life that I consider you family. I've come to care about you so much that I know that I can't live without you in my life."

Harry sighed, holding his head in his hands. He shook his head. "Hermione," he faltered for a second as if he was gathering the words. "I do consider you family. I was wrong to say that Sirius was my only family. And I want you in my life…more than anything. But…"

Hermione looked up at him, smiling. "Then what's the problem? Why do you keep pushing me away?"

"Because you'll die!" Harry looked up at her, trembling. Hermione stared at him in disbelieve. "You'll die if you stay near me, Hermione! Everyone will die! He'll get all of you…then he'll kill me!"

Hermione had tears in her eyes. She just stared at Harry, shaking her head. "No. Voldemort's just putting ideas in your head…like before. I'm not going anywhere! And neither are you!"

Harry shook his own head. "No! I saw it, Hermione. I see it every night when I close my eyes. I'm on the Hogwarts Grounds. Surrounding me…are teenagers and…and professors and Order members. I look down at their faces. They all look the same…shocked. I see Tonks and Remus and, and Dumbledore and McGonagal. Susan, Ernie, Justin, Cho, Seamus, Dean, Parvati and Padma. There's Neville and Ginny and Ron and Lavender.

"Then I look at the body at my feet. You. You're staring up at me, eyes wide with shock. Your lips," as Harry said this, he touched his own lips, "are slightly parted, as if you were trying to say something. Your skin," he touched his cheek, "is already pale. Your hair, your beautiful chestnut hair, is in disarray all over the…the muddy, bloody ground. On your left arm, there's a deep cut and it's bleeding freely. I check to see if you're still breathing. You're not. I check for a pulse. There is none. I…fall to the ground and pick you up into my arms. I can feel…taste the tears pouring down my face. They splatter across your own.

"I can still feel the desperate need. I close my eyes and I count to ten. I always count to ten. I think…I think that you will suddenly be alive again. When I reach ten, your body is gone from my arms. I think you are alive. But when I open my eyes, you're not in front of me or beside me. As I look around me, I see gravestones with the names of all the people I saw dead. The gravestones surround me, taunting me, putting me through pain unlike any other. I see that I am sitting on something. I get up and find that it is another gravestone. Yours. I can see it clearly;

Hermione Jane Granger

Beloved Friend and Outstanding Witch

September 19, 1980-June 5, 1997

"Then, I'm not sure why, I look to the gravestone on the right. It startles me. I look at it over and over again, but there is no mistaking what it says:

Harry James Potter

"The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Die-Last"

July 31, 1980-NOW!

"Suddenly, the sky turns an eerie green and I hear that cackling laugh all around me. I know he's coming and that this my end…"

Harry broke down, shaking his head. He was trembling. Hermione tried to comfort him. He pushed her away. He always did. But, for once, she did not let him.

"Listen to me, Harry," Hermione shouted at him. He sat up at looked at her, still trembling. "I want you to close your eyes-."

"No, Hermione," Harry cut her off.

But Hermione continued. "I want you to close your eyes. Close your eyes and count to ten."

Harry did as she said. He slowly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "One…Two…Three…Four…Five…Six…Seven…Eight…Nine…" When he reached nine, he felt a warm, calming hand take hold of his. A small smile spread across his face. "…Ten."

He opened his eyes to see a smiling Hermione. "It's going to be like this forever, Harry. Whenever you open your eyes, I am going to be beside you. Voldemort is not taking me down and he certainly is not taking you down. There is no way you are going to get rid of me." She smiled brightly at the last sentence.

Harry smiled brightly too. "And there is no reason I would want to get rid of you."

He hugged her tight, hoping deep in his heart that she was right…

I hope you guys liked it. It was just an idea I had and I wanted to get it out before the book. I hope there are no spelling mistakes. If there are, I am sorry! Anyway, don't forget to leave a review!