Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. However, I am kind of ashamed to admit that I own this story. I am proud to admit that, after the badness of the last few chapters, I have learned how to format to my advantage! Yay! party dance Now, shoo shoo…
Lesson 3: Screw you and all ya'll too!
"Fuck off!" I cried. All I wanted was to feel important. To feel like I mattered as much as he did.
"You do matter," he said quietly.
I huffed. That new mind reading thing was kind of creepy. But mostly just annoying. "The fact that you actually think that's true definitely says something about your mental status."
"I'm not crazy," He said it in a tone that was factual, and actually quite sad sounding. Which was explained to me by what he said next. "It would be easier if I was crazy, I think. I wouldn't have to know that what was happening was a good thing. That billions of people dying would be worth it. But I can't help thinking that it's not. And you matter more than you know. Apparantly, the whole sanity thing is an issue, and I have to be sane to do the final spell. And without you, I would be quite unable to remain that way. And who would take care of 'Mione? It was actually mostly you who has always been undependable in a dependable way. I can wxpect you to overreact--much like you are now, by the way—and insist that everything is peachy and make retarded jokes about Malfoy or Snape or anyone really. You're my sanity, whether you believe it or not."
I sighed. "You know what, Harry? Sometimes you make me feel like a real arse. And I would hate you for that…but I am. An arse, I mean. Cause o'course I don't hate you."
"I do believe you are babbling," Harry stated, sounding very much like Snape.
I stared at him. "Wow. Don't you ever do that again. If it wasn't for the fact that I know no one can find us, well…for a minute I thought he snuck up behind us."
Harry looked at me to make sure I was serious. Then he started laughing. "Ah yes. Snape. Roughing it with a couple of teenagers. I can see it now. How could he possibly go without a shower? Oh, wait…"
It was Harry's honest realization that he had said something mean and dumb that made me begin to laugh. And then the thought of Snape roughing it. In muggle clothes. I started laughing so hard I could barely breathe. And then I pictured Dumbledore roughing it.
"Wow. Ron, it wasn't that funny," Harry said. Which I suppose made sense since I was basically going hysterical.
I managed to quit laughing long enough to say, "Dumbledore in muggle hiking gear."
Harry burst our laughing. So apparently it was okay that I disgracing the memory of Dumbledore with my disturbing mental picture. If Harry thought it was funny, then that must mean that he had finally started believing that he didn't kill the old guy. Which was definitely a good thing. Personally, I was sick of his "oh poor me, Dumbledore died to save me" rants. Dumbledore did die to save him. The old man was psychic. Practically. He knew that saving Harry was of utmost importance. And it was. Because this was the last time we would laugh for fourteen days. Well, this and at the look on Hermione's face when she walked in about two minutes later. Because three days later we found him. Three days later, we found Voldy.
Author's note: Now please remember, read and review! Pretty please? I even like flames! Flamity flaming flames. Promise. And also, remember that these are short stories for a reason. So if you really want to know what's going on inside my head, let me know in a –sparkly shiny italics and bold- REVIEW! And I'll reply and let you know. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die stick a needle in my eye….credit given to Aspen in the Sunlight. But I'm afraid of finishing it…