The next week or so went by in a haze of following Sam and Derrin around the parlour, watching and learning, and taking anything and everything in. Tom was always impressed when I showed up on time everyday and even turned to his two workers one day and said "Be more like James here." (I had given my name as 'James Timbrook' as I knew I could not give them my real name.)

But it wasn't as if I had a reason to be late. I wanted to be there. To lose myself in the artwork everyday and to forget that I was hiding, and to forget just why I was hiding.

Tom even let try doing my first tattoo on the third day. I couldn't think of anything that would be more appropriate for me, so I did a snake on the inside of my lower arm. It hurt at first, but I embraced the pain, and soon I couldn't even feel anything but a slight poke every now and then. Derrin let me test out my skills on him, and I ended up drawing a dragon on his back. It was big and took a long time to finish, but we were both pleased with the results.

It looked remarkably like a Hungarian Horntail...

On the second week of my employment at the Inkheart Body Art Parlour, a huge group of teenage boys came in and I was finally able to work on actual customers.

I was finally starting to feel comfortable in one place again. Something that I had never thought would happen again.

One night, after the place was closed, Sam, Derrin and I were sitting in the back room talking about everything and nothing at the same time. I cherished these moments secretly; a time when we could all just sit and talk and not worry or care what might happen next. As we sat there talking, a soda in each of our hands, a subject came up that I was only to keen to get away from.

"Listen, James," said Sam as she set her soda down on one of the tables and leaned forward slightly. "You've done really well since you came here. I mean, you're incredible! But when you first came in, I really didn't expect you to e sticking around or anything."

I leaned forward also, an eyebrow raised. "Oh?"

"Well, yeah." Derrin pitched in. "You looked bloody horrible. You were all thin and sickly looking. We thought you'd be a pain to work with, because you seemed so ready to block everyone out and run if things got a little tough. Can't blame you, really. We can see you've been through some damn rough times before, eh?"

I could feel myself starting to retreat back into an all too familiar shell. "Wh-what do you mean?" My voice was a little higher than what I expected and the scratchiness and strain in my voice was all too noticeable.

"Come off it, mate! Look at you!" said Sam exasperatedly. "You know damn right what we're talking about!" She pointed at me firmly. "We never asked because we didn't really know you, but now, you're one of us. We're all friends, right? We can help you and it's not hard to tell that something is eating you up inside." She lowered her voice a bit, then continued. "We know that something horrible happened in the not too distant past. You've got scars like no-one I've ever seen. Or Derrin. Please, tell us what happened. We want to help you. We really do. And if you want, we won't tell a soul, not even T-" She stopped abruptly as I stood up, knocking my empty soda bottle to the ground.

"I've got to go." I said hastily, and stepped over to my locker to get my jacket. Sam and Derrin both looked hurt.

"But-" said Derrin, but he obviously couldn't think of anything to say. I looked at them. My insides were bubbling. I had to get out.

"James. Talk to us. You're-"

"It's none of your business what happened to me!" I snarled. "My past is of no concern to you!" I stopped at the shocked looks on their faces. I forced myself to calm down, then spoke in a low voice so that my new friends had to lean in to understand my words,

"I'm sorry. But I really don't want to talk about it. I know you want to help," I added at the look on Sam's face, "but...well, you can't. There's no possible way. I really wish there was, I really do. But I'm beyond helping, so don't even try." And I was gone, out into the drizzly night.

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"Come on, Hermione, he's not here! We've looked everywhere!" Ron moaned as he and Hermione traversed the streets of Edinburgh for about the tenth time in two days. "We should move on to the next town already, because if he knows that someone will be looking for him and he doesn't want to be found, he can't stay in one place for a long time."

Hermione glared at him. "Be that as it may," She said coldly. "We can't afford not to look everywhere. Fine friends we'd be if we just passed right by him or missed him completely! But I do think you have a good point; he probably wouldn't hang around in one place for very long if he didn't want to be found. How about this. We'll look through here one last time then move on to the next town. All right?"

"All right." said Ron quickly, eager to be on to the next town. "Well what are you waiting for? Let's get cracking!"

He knew that Harry wasn't there. It was like a weight in the pit of his stomach. Harry was is best friend- he would know when he was close. But he just couldn't find a way to explain this, and every time he tried it was useless. You just can't argue with someone who has so much knowledge and rationalizing and logic that they lacked the necessary common sense to try something new, or to believe in something you couldn't see or touch. He had eventually given up trying.

"I'm coming Harry, wether you like it or not" he muttered as he once again put his sore feet into motion.

"What?" asked Hermione, looking back at him.

"Nothing," he said quickly. But there was a more determined air about him as he walked on into the dusk.

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I paced through the streets in the dark, my rain soaked hair plastered to my skull. Occasionally my drenched self would be momentarily illuminated as I passed under a dull street lamp. My hands were in my pockets and my head hung low. Water dripped off my nose and chin at regular intervals.

Why did I freak out like that? Well, that isn't too hard, but I could've reacted differently. They meant well. They weren't trying to make me feel so uncomfortable.

I anxiously probed my own thoughts. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know where to go. I couldn't just leave, they might try and find me or call the police or something that would attract a lot of unwanted attention.

God why did I get myself into this situation? I can't run...

I froze in my tracks.

I can't run. I can't get away.

My thoughts seemed to freeze. I could actually hear the rain splattering on the road, and on the shingles of the houses. I suddenly felt how very cold and wet I was.

I can't run...

There was no way to explain it, but I suddenly felt a little warmer inside. I still knew that I couldn't be found, but it didn't seem as much of a burden. I could stay here. I could stay here and not be afraid. I didn't know why I suddenly felt so warm, but I did.

"Hey! James!" I spun around and saw Sam running towards me. I slowed down to let her catch up.

"Why are you out here?" I asked when I saw her soaked figure slow to a walk next to me.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." She answered. "I'm on my way home. I just saw you and thought you could use a companion."

I snorted.

"All right. I didn't expect to see you out here; I thought you would go straight home after-"

"Listen." I interrupted. Sam stopped and looked over at me as we walked. "I'm sorry about what I said to you two. I shouldn't have-"

"No. Don't apologize." Sam said simply.

"But-"

"I'm serious! We shouldn't have pried like that. I'm sorry, Harry."