Unfortunate Relations

Author's Note: No matter how silly the last two chapters were, you must get that out of your head before reading this. This one won't be so light. I'm not saying it's incredibly dark, but it is serious. Also, I apologize in advance for all the 'verbs of being' I have in this chapter- but it needed them. It produces a sort of flatness that the chapter requires for the effect I wanted. Let me know if I did a good job expressing it or not. Before you begin, consider this quote. It has a lot to do with the chapter. "If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us." –Hermann Hesse

to the anonymous Kristen: You're right…the thing is, I'm playing on the fact that Katie's Voldemort's niece, and also something else. The reason she attacked him is because he was attacking her ('member how Harry was suspicious)- she was just trying to protect herself. Thanks so much for the review- I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Nine: Which Cuts Deepest?

Harry stared blankly into the swirling mist that curled ominously around his fast-numbing feet.

He hated her. There was no doubt or question in his mind- and not any room for a change of friendship or second thoughts. It wasn't just her attitude- her idiotic and maddening way of making him want to scream incomprehensibly and tackle her- no, that wasn't the half of it. Not even close.

And it also wasn't the fact that she was Lord Voldemort's niece, or that risk that on any moonless night when they all slept she would kill them. Though those things certainly helped.

But it most definitely had nothing to do with her stupid, unnerving smile- or her grey eyes. Nothing at all. Nor that she had so many things in common with him- for some idiotic reason, they just had to be similar. Ugh.

No, none of that even came close to the reason why he had issued his final ultimatum of hatred on her.

Katie- indirectly, at the very least- had been the cause of Dumbledore's death. That was the real reason- the only one that mattered, anyway. Even now, Harry couldn't get the shock to register in his mind. Dumbledore? Dead? Sorry, you must have the names mixed up or something. Not Dumbledore. Not the most famous wizard besides Lord Voldemort- in fact, the one who had held Voldemort at bay for so long.

Ironically, though, it worked out. Voldemort's stupid niece, killer of the great Dumbledore, demise of all of Harry's real hope. It hurt so much to know that the headmaster's near-enough murderer slept a mere fifty yards away.

Maybe deep down he knew it wasn't her fault. But that was deep, deep down. Besides, if she hadn't destroyed the locket, Dumbledore's death wouldn't have been for nothing.

Harry, finally giving up all pretenses of togetherness, allowed the tears to slowly fall down his face to join the fast-growing mist. He couldn't help it- Harry cried until it hurt. He cried until the wetness on his cheeks felt as though it had all but frozen.

He was tired of pretending he would be alright.

XXX

Katie was tired of pretending she would be alright.

She was also tired of being confused. She hated him- that remained the only clear thing in her head. Why she hated him, that she couldn't quite figure.

The only solution she could find was that she had inherited it from her uncle- but that didn't make sense. You didn't inherit hatred. It wasn't a trait.

A new wave of emptiness washed over her like some fast-spreading poison, creating a twisted sort of harmony to the foggy damp enveloping her.

With a deeply painful sigh, Katie stood. Maybe a walk could cure what her empty thoughts could not.

Or maybe a walk would just help her run away from them.

Whatever the reason, Katie softly stood to slink away into the melting mist.

XXX

Harry leaned a little further into the wood, wincing as it released a long, sighing creak.

He couldn't shake the feeling that, right now, he was quite possibly one of the stupidest wizards on the planet. What was he doing, sitting on the back porch, anyway? What was he trying to prove? Even he didn't know, which was a sure sign that nobody else would.

Tonight seemed to just be one of those nights- the ones that always went downhill from hell (A/N: And I bet you didn't even think it was possible to go below hell, did you?)- and, what was worse, was that those sort of nights were the ones that were your fault anyway.

That didn't really matter, though- Harry had grown used to the feeling that everything was his fault.

'That's the problem with heroes. They may save the day every once and a while, but one blunder and your devoted fans are burning you at the stake.' He hated being the bloody Boy Who Lived. '…I'm tired of playing savior.'

…Creeak…

Utter silence saturated the scene as Harry realized that this time, the creak wasn't his fault. "…Hello?" He called softly into the darkness. Someone else was definitely here.

Gritting his teeth, Harry took out his wand with a steady hand.

XXX

An echoed call swam nervously through the dank air. '…Hello…'

"Um, hi." Katie answered the eerie sound in a whisper. Her attempt to stay calm obviously wasn't going too well.

Suddenly she halted her thudding footsteps to peer desperately into the distance. Katie could always find her way on dark nights.

Just not foggy ones. She didn't have x-ray vision; it was the fog that got her every time.

Katie threw her arms up in frustration. Somehow along her little walk she had gotten lost- and was fast approaching a porch of the orphanage (front or back, she couldn't tell).

An alarming noise seeped from the creaky boards of the building- sort of like heavy breathing…

Without warning, Katie tripped and began falling forward into inky darkness.

Without hesitation, Katie screamed.

XXX

Harry was ready, in a flash his wand was up against the throat of his…attacker?

He doubted it- whatever it was had just emitted an ear-splitting scream.

As his eyesight began adjusting to the new figure that lay limply on the rotten wood, Harry realized with a pang that it was (of course) the person he had least wanted to see.

XXX

Katie knew who was pointing his wand at her throat by instinct. And only one thought was going through her head. 'Murphy's Law. Murphy's Law. Murphy's…' Murphy's Law: Anything that can go wrong, at the worst possible moment will go wrong. Drat that muggle. He was right.

"What do you think you're doing?" Harry questioned suspiciously, jabbing Katie with his wand, then quickly pulling back upon seeing her more-than-murderous expression. "Spying on me, I suppose. I knew you weren't any good."

Reluctantly, Katie rolled over to face him and daintily set her back against a wall. Her grey eyes looked at him with an expression of utmost boredom and contempt.

"Don't flatter yourself."

"What ARE you doing here, then?"

"I was going for a bloody walk, genius. Now can you please stop poking me with your stupid wand?"

Harry grumbled as he tucked his wand back into the pocket of his robes. A long, venomous pause ensued as each head was filled with burning comments and images of the other crying- both Harry and Katie grinned to themselves. This was going to be fun.

XXX

Ron sighed. Two hours- two bloody hours – and Harry still hadn't come back. 'I bet he thinks he's sneaky.' he snorted moodily to himself. 'I bet he thinks we're all too thick to realize he's gone.'

He sighed again, watching as his breath added to the already thicker-than-his-mom's-knit-sweaters fog. Maybe the reason Ron was so huffy had something to do with the fact that he couldn't feel over half of his body from numbness. No matter what the reason, though, he'd have to do something about his best mate.

With one final sigh, Ron sat up and tried to rub some feeling into, for starters, his hands.

"Ron."

Slowly, he froze. The voice drifting toward him sounded cool, clear, and commanding- it could only be one person.

"Yes, Hermione?" Ron turned to face her, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't raise your eyebrow at me." she snapped irritably, eyes flashing through the fog.

"Mm, sorry." Ron was way too tired for this. And so was Hermione.

"Anyway, what I was trying to get through your thick head is- I don't think it's the greatest idea to go after Harry.

"How did you-? Never mind." Why did Hermione always seem to know everything exactly when she wasn't supposed to?

It was Hermione's turn to raise an eyebrow.

Ron snorted. "Hypocrite."

"What?"

After staring at her incredulously, Ron broke into a huge grin. "Nothing."

"What're you smiling about?" Hermione quickly brushed the hair out of her face and quirked her head sideways. Her eyes were sharp and penetrating- but underneath it all maybe just a little amused.

"You really are very pretty, Hermione."

She blushed. "Oh, really, Ron- it's 2:34 in the morning. No one could possibly look pretty at this ungodly hour."

"Except you."

Hermione was trying her very best not to smile. Ron could tell.

"Go to bed, Ron."

"I love you too, Hermione." He leaned back into his sleeping bag, the fuzzy golden haze finally leaving his eyes. Hermione was mostly likely right about the whole Harry thing. Harry needed time to think. Alone. So why not give it to him?

Ron sighed.

"…Ron?"

"…Hmm?"

"Quit sighing, will you?"

XXX

"Do you think she likes me?"

"Is the pope catholic?"

"I'm serious, Gred."

"You're crazy, Forge. That's what you are."

"Hey, don't look at me. You were the one with the beard."

Fred scratched absently at his chin, remembering his beard and grinning. "Yeah- you want one? I think I finally got the gist of that spell. But I'm not quite sure yet- haven't tested it."

"Just answer the question, Fred."

"It's Gred."

"Fine. Gred, then."

"Are you blind, mate? Of course she likes you. How could she not like someone with my face?" He winked slyly and added with a mischievous nudge, "She hugged you today."

"So? She's hugged you before."

"Not like that."

"How'd she hug me?"

"…Like…she liked you." After stating the obvious answer, Fred rolled his eyes. George was being an absolute git tonight.

"So…do you think she likes me?"

"Shut UP, George! I can't take it anymore- this is the third time we've had this idiotic conversation."

With a rather large grumble, George laid back down, a sort of smug feeling emanating from his countenance. "It's Forge." he muttered.

"Fine. Forge, then."

"Thank you."

"What's wrong with you, anyway?"

George sat up suddenly, appearing to strain his ears to hear something. "Hear that?"

"You're my brother, Forge. My twin brother. If that's not a psychic connection, then I don't know what-"

"Shh!"

"No! I will not. I know something's up. And stop trying to change the-"

"Subject? I'm not. Listen."

Fred stared blankly at his clearly clinically insane brother. "I can't hear anything."

"Exactly. Katie usually talks in her sleep, right?"

"You know what's sad? You knowing that." Fred quipped with a sad shake of the head.

"I am not clinically insane, you know."

"Whoa. I guess we really are psychic, then."

"The point is- Katie's not here."

Both twins looked first at Katie's empty sleeping bag, then the foggy area surrounding them. "Any idea where she's off to?" Fred asked, inclining his head towards everything they couldn't see out in the white mist.

"Sorry mate. I haven't the foggiest."

"Shutup, George."

"…It's Forge."

XXX

Okay, so maybe the end wasn't so dark. But, you know me. It's hard to be dark for a long period of time. So…what'd ya think? We're getting to the nitty gritty next chapter, I promise. On to the next horcrux.