Why...

Harry felt so dumb. Why did he have to have that stupid nightmare and fall out of bed? He grew enraged with himself. He was not a child, he shouldn't need to be comforted like one. Yet he did.

Harry stared at the picture that was in Hermione's hands just a while ago. Harry remembered drawing this just this last year. Hermione was getting so beautiful, and the drawing didn't do justice to how she really looked. She had looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her before. She was so loving and kind.

Why did she have to be so caring? Harry loved that she was, but that made him want to tell her what had happened even more. And he couldn't tell her. Who knows what would happen with their friendship if he did. What if she thought he was dumb for going back to the house. Or maybe she'd think he was dumb for trying to kill himself.

Harry grew agitated. He had been so close to telling her, but he was glad he covered it wth that cooking lie. She wanted to know so bad though, and he had promised to tell her someday. So he would tell her, someday when they were far apart so she couldn't stop being friends with him.

No. How could he ever be far away from her? They still had to go find the horcruxes and Harry knew she wouldn't let him go without her. She was such a good friend, what if he were to lose her. She had saved his life, how could he tell her something like that.

Plus, she wouldn't understand. She wouldn't get why he hadn't told her before. She wouldn't get why he had stayed so long to go through hell. Why had Dumbledore told him to go back? Nobody else knew that he was supposed to go back, maybe he shouldn't have. But he trusted Dumbledore's better judgement, or what seemed to be good judgement at least.

Dumbledore knew that Harry was getting beat up and raped by his uncle, but there was nothing he could do. He did everything in his power to get Harry out of the house early every summer. Harry was sure that if Dumbledore hadn't died this one would be no different.

Dumbledore had told him while they were in their lessons that Petunia knew something about one of the Horcruxes and that he, Harry should try to get the information out of her. Harry had failed at that assignment, just like every other one he had ever been given. That's why he stayed at the Dursley's so long, that's why he had gone through hell.

Dumbledore now ran through his mind as he remembered the wonderful headmaster. Dumbledore had always been there when Harry needed him. He had always told Harry what to do at exactly the right time. But now he couldn't. There was no Dumbledore there to help him. How come Dumbledore could always be there for him, but the one time he could have used Harry's help he didn't use it. Instead he died.

Harry knew it wasn't really his fault, but it damn well felt like it. Harry walked over to the bed and layed down. The problem was he knew not to sleep. Every time Harry tried to sleep he had one nightmare or another. It was always about Dumbledores death, Hermione's, or worst of all Uncle Vernon.

Harry got up and went over to his trunk. He grabbed the locket he had gotten in the cave. The locket was so brutally ugly. Why did Dumbledore have to die for this piece of crap. Hermione had said it was because destroying the horcruxes would save many lives.

Harry didn't get that people had to die so that others could live. It all seemed so wierd to Harry. Harry just didn't want Hermione to die, but she was so involved in this that she probably would try saying that she had to.

Harry knew that he liked Hermione as more than a friend, and he knew that she liked him too. The only reason Harry wouldn't get near her was because he didn't want to hurt her. And if he stayed with her he knew he would. That's why as soon as he could walk alright he was going to go.

He would stay only until then. He knew he would hurt more if he didn't. It really stunk that Harry couldn't tell her, but maybe this way she'd take that teaching job.

Harry wondered what tomorrow would be like. How would Hermione treat him after him acting so stupid. He knew he'd find out tomorrow.