Suffocating Darkness

With a jarring jolt he landed firmly on his feet for the first time in his experiences of Portkeys, but he wasn't paying attention to this. He looked around the darkened street and realized that they had reached not his aunt and uncle's house, but the Order of the Phoenix headquarters. Harry's eyes stared blankly at the floor. He did not want to be here.

"Harry, Harry! Are you okay?" Tonks was starting to sound a bit perturbed and Harry knew that he should probably be feeling grateful that he was alive but he was not. A voice broke into his thoughts

"Come on, Harry, let's get you inside." Tonks took his hand and as the house appeared from in between house number 11 and 13, Tonks seized the door handle and stepped inside, pulling Harry behind her.

Harry's gaze swept the house where only a few months ago Sirius had been singing Christmas carols as loudly as possible, where Sirius had given Harry the two-way mirror he had never used. The room was strangely empty, and it occurred to him that he it had always been full in his past visits. Tonks lit the lamps and golden light shone softly into the house. It held a faintly musty smell as though no one had used it recently. Cobwebs had once again covered the ratty curtains that he remembered spending the afternoon with the Weasleys de-doxying. He looked to the staircase half-expecting to see Sirius walking down with a huge smile to greet him, but it remained dark and ominous. His heart began to pound in his ears, and his vision spun crazily. He was caught in a whirlwind of emotion and could not breathe. Sirius was not here; he would never be here again.

"How could you bring me here?" He gasped for breath. Tonks looked alarmed.

"Harry, calm down, you're going to hurt yourself." She took his hand and led him to the couch.

"HOW DARE YOU!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, wrenching his hand out of her grasp. "Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" He sat down on the sofa, placed his head in his hands and gasped in air. He still couldn't breathe.

"Sirius is gone… I can't be here. I really can't be here. I need to go." Harry got up, somewhat calmer, and began pacing furiously across the carpet in front of the fire place. At that moment the door reopened and Lupin stood in the doorway looking between Tonks, who was wringing her hands concernedly, and Harry who was still pacing, his eyes blind to all else but the image of Sirius falling through the veil.

"Everyone's back safe and sound except for--what's going on?" Lupin's thin face looked troubled. He walked up to Tonks and put his arm around her shoulders as if to offer her support. She looked exhausted.

"Harry, Dumbledore is fine," Lupin said. "He should get here sometime in the next couple of hours. I believe Molly is coming shortly; most of the Order had been informed that you are here. Why don't we all just go to bed, and sort out whatever the problem is tomorrow."

Harry looked at Lupin, astounded.

"You want me to stay HERE? I can't! Did you hear? I can't." With that he spun around on his heel and marched to the door as if to escape. Lupin darted instantly in front of Harry.

"MOVE! NOW!" Harry spat at Lupin. "You can't do this!"

Tonks gingerly began to speak, "Harry, I am sorry, I know this is hard but you have to stay here, at least for tonight."

However, Harry was no longer listening to reason. He lunged at Lupin and began to punch him, his hands furiously pounding Lupin's chest. Lupin winced, but did nothing to move away; instead he opened his arms and wrapped them around Harry who was now sobbing, his face dripping with tears.

"Harry, stop fighting." Lupin's voice cracked with grief. "He was my friend, too. I know what you are feeling." Tears dropped down onto the top of Harry's head.

"GET OFF ME! I HATE YOU. I HATE ALL OF YOU. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING!"

He fought Lupin's hold, struggling against his arms, but they merely tightened and held on. Once again Harry found himself without breath. He felt as though he was drowning. His head swam. Tonks rushed to Harry and Lupin and managed to keep Harry on his feet. Harry looked at the floor which was spinning slowly. It was speeding up; the carpet became a blur of colours. It spun quicker, and quicker, and he registered dimly that Lupin had pulled out his wand.

"Tonks, this can't go on." Lupin was still fighting to hold Harry.

He could not catch his breath, his knees weakened and he sagged to the ground as red light enveloped his body. Harry gave in with a sigh. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was gone for now.

He woke up slowly, his eyes gazing blearily at the wall beside him. There was a picture of a family he didn't know. The father was a young man with dirty blonde hair, blue-grey eyes and a thin nose. The woman in the picture had brown, wavy hair and her eyes were a stunning brown colour. In the middle of the two of them a young girl was grinning, her front teeth rather large for her mouth, and her bushy hair making a sort of halo around her face. Suddenly he realized that that was Hermione, although it must have been many years ago, for she was chubbier and about three feet smaller.

Where was he? Harry could not remember getting here at all. He was lying on someone's bed. His eyes traveled around the room. The walls were a light brown colour, and the room itself was spotless. On the desk books were piled up so high it looked like the pile would fall over if you accidentally touched it. Surprisingly, there was a picture of him, Ron and Hermione together at Hogwarts, but it had been taken at the end of third year. In this picture, however, the people in it were moving, unlike the one on the wall of Hermione's family.

There was a chair in the corner, and sitting in it, to his very great surprise was Hermione herself, fast asleep, clutching Crookshanks, her bandy-legged, ugly red-haired cat to her chest.

Harry smiled faintly, realizing that this was Hermione's room, but that meant that he was in her house. When had he gotten here? The last thing Harry could remember was Lupin stopping him from running out of the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. His memory of the previous night returned with a flash, and he lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes as those memories pained him. Harry breathed deeply, fighting back the nausea they brought him. Once again he had been fooled, Harry thought bitterly to himself. Harry Potter, the world's greatest fool. Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed and set his feet onto the softest carpet he had ever felt in his life.

His toes sunk into the floor, making an imprint of his foot. His actions roused Hermione out of her slumber, and she sat upright blinking sleep out of her eyes. She suddenly jumped to her feet, and flung her arms around Harry, so tightly he could hardly breathe.

"Thank God you are alright!" Hermione cried in his ear, still holding onto him tightly.

"Do you realize you could have gotten yourself killed?" Hermione sounded angry at him, but he knew her too well to believe that. He held her at arms length and looked her in the eyes. She was pale, her eyes hectically searching his face for any signs of injury.

"I'm fine, Hermione, just fine," he whispered softly. He leaned down and kissed her forehead reassuringly, which only made her burst into tears. Shaking his head, he put his arm around her shoulders and made her sit on the bed.

"What's going on?" Harry was genuinely curious.

"You got here last night around four in the morning. We were all sleeping when suddenly Lupin just crashed into our house out of the fireplace carrying you. You should have seen my parents' faces, once they woke up and went downstairs" She paused to smile at him. "I wasn't even awake, but all the commotion made me jump out of bed. I went downstairs, and there you were. I thought you were dead." She broke off at this part, her eyes darkening painfully. Harry waited patiently for her to continue.

"Lupin was carrying you, sort of, and you weren't awake. I guess I must have looked horrible because Lupin immediately told me that you had just been Stunned. We put you in my bed and then Lupin woke you, but you fell back asleep right away. Tonks arrived shortly after Lupin, and they explained what had happened the night before. How y-you sort of went nuts." She stopped here and held her breath as though waiting for him to blow up at her. However there were no explosions to be heard, only a soft whisper coming from Harry.

"I felt like the world was closing in on me, Hermione. I couldn't stay in Sirius' house. It was worse than the Cruciatus Curse. Do you know," he gasped and wiped his right cheek, "I can still see his face the day he was singing Christmas carols? It's my fault he died…my fault."

He stopped to take a breath. This was the first time he had ever mentioned his feelings about Sirius to anyone, in fact the first time he had ever even mentioned his feelings. Hermione just patted his back gently and gave him a one-armed hug.

"It must have been horrible." Hermione looked at Harry whose face was etched with pain.

"They were going to make me stay the night, and… I just blew up, I guess." Harry's voice had gone even quieter, and he was looking exhausted again.

"You know we don't blame you, Harry. None of us does. It is not your fault that Sirius died, or that Kingsley is dead, do you hear me?"

Harry stared at her, horrified. "Kingsley is d-dead?" He looked shocked, and Hermione looked appalled that she had just told him that.

"How?" That was all he could manage at the moment, but Hermione did not answer.

"See, I told you everything is my fault. Everything I do is wrong! Twice now I have been tricked by Voldemort, and each time I believe him. IT'S ALWAYS MY FAULT." He felt like throwing something, but there was nothing within arm's reach.

"Two people dead, because of me. All because of baby Potter's stupidity. I can't do this anymore, Hermione, I can't do this at all."

Hermione did not ask what he was talking about but instead just took his hand.

"Harry, if any of us had visions about Voldemort we would believe them too. It is not your fault. You have to stop blaming yourself." Hermione was now looking exhausted as well. Harry wondered briefly, why she had not asked what the vision was about, but then he brought himself back to her unasked question.

"I can't. I just can't"

Harry realized this was true. Two people had died because of him, yet he was still alive. He would always be the boy-who-lived. How many people would die for him? Would he always be protected by those who were innocently trying to protect him? Would they always suffer just to keep alive a scrawny, teenage boy, who they thought was so great? Harry sighed faintly, wishing that this was over, that he was safe at Hogwarts, no longer worried about what Voldemort might have prepared for the current year. Or, even better, he wished he was where Sirius was.

"So many people, so many people because of me. I don't deserve to be alive, Hermione! I should be dead along with everyone else! I should be dead." Harry was whispering as though he was talking to himself.

"Harry, of course you shouldn't. We need you!"

"No, you don't! If it weren't for me none of this would have happened. Everything would be all right. It would be okay." Harry didn't even try to hold back his tears. He let everything go. Everything that he had held back since last year was pouring out of him onto Hermione's shoulder.

"Why me? Why me?"

This time he was not talking about why he lived while others died, but why he had to be the one to kill Voldemort. The longer he thought about this the more panicked he became. The floor began to spin again, and his heart contracted with a sudden and gripping fear. His breath came short in his tired lungs, and he gasped for breath. Harry hoped desperately that this would not be the pattern for the rest of his life. In fact, he was angry at himself for acting like a child. Try as he might, he could not pull himself together.

"Harry, Harry! Lie down on the bed, please." Hermione sounded desperate, as though she knew what was going on inside him. She pushed his shoulders down onto the mattress, took out her wand, and tapped it against his forehead. Harry's eyelids began to droop, and he knew that Hermione had spelled him to sleep. The last thing he heard was Hermione crying softly beside him, her hand still gripping her wand, her other hand wiping the hair off his forehead. Then he slept.