Hopelessness Vs Strength

Ron's eyes opened. What's this feeling? He frowned and tried to ignore the unusual frenzy his brain was entering. There isn't an exam tomorrow. Now sleep you idiot. He forced his eyes shut, finding a more comfortable position in bed.

A few seconds later, his eyes shot open once more in frustration. Hell, he thought, sitting up and looking around. His gaze lingered at Harry's bed. Harry?

He left his bed and made his way toward Harry's empty bed and frowned.

Where is he? He looked around. Shower, a voice in his head answered. His right brow rose. Right – not crazy.

Ron waited a few minutes on the bed before curiosity got the best of him. He made his way to the bathrooms and walked through to the shower stalls.

Two gasps came in sync.

"Ron!"

Ron's eyes were wide at the sight of Harry in only a towel held hastily over his private parts. "Harry?"

"What are you doing up?"

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked, ignoring the question.

"I just showered – nothing out of the ordinary."

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Uh, late?"

"Late! It's… it's… never mind." Ron kept scrutinizing him. "What's going on? What's this?"

"Nothing."

"Don't patronize me – I'm not blind and I'm not that dumb."

"Look, it's nothing, Ron," Harry said, turning to put his clothes on when Ron inhaled sharply. Harry turned slightly and looked at him over his shoulder. "What?"

"Your back…"

Harry silent gasped, his eyes wide, remembering his back. Crap. "It's nothing," He quickly said and kept dressing, ignoring the aches and burns all over his skin.

Ron kept staring at Harry until he was fully dressed and preparing to leave.

"Goodnight, Ron."

"Aren't you going to tell me the truth?" Ron said as Harry was about to walk by.

Harry paused. "There's no truth to tell, Ron. There's nothing."

"Don't lie to me, Harry – just say you don't want to tell me."

"That would be lying, either way."

Ron turned and watched Harry walk out. Yeah, but that way it hurts much less, mate.

With sad eyes and a hole in his heart, Ron returned to bed. You don't trust me. Who's hurting you, Harry?

During breakfast, Hermione kept looking between the two until she couldn't stand it anymore. "Ok, you two, something's up and you're telling me now."

"Nothing's up, Hermione," Ron replied.

"Except mail," Harry added as birds started flying in with mail for many students.

A newspaper fell in front of Harry. He grabbed it and untied its knot before starting to read it. Hermione looked at Ron who kept pushing eggs around his plate.

"I need to go to Professor Flitwick before classes, we have a project to discuss," Harry said, standing up and leaving with his paper.

When he left the Great Hall, Hermione turned to Ron. "Ok, Ron. Spill."

"I don't know what's wrong, 'Mione."

"Did you two fight last night?"

"No."

"Then?"

Ron remained silent, looking into his plate. He looked up at her a few seconds later. "He won't tell me what's wrong."

She frowned.

After eating, Hermione found herself in front of Professor Dumbledore, in his office.

"What may I do for you, Miss Granger?"

"Professor, I know you know everything that happens in the school."

"Well, not everything," he replied, a twinkle sparkling in each of his eyes.

She smiled. "We need to know what's wrong with Harry, professor. Apparently, there's something hurting him, and he's not saying anything about it."

"Is he now?"

"He is." She frowned at the slight comicality in the amused tone Professor Dumbledore used.

"Perhaps Harry is just going through an emotional turmoil. You worry yourself about his wellbeing: he's a strong boy."

Her frown deepened a notch. "Yes, professor. Thank you for your time."

"My pleasure, Miss Granger."

She left the office and went to Ancient Runes.

"Emotional turmoil?" Ron repeated, incredulous, as they walked through the corridor to class.

"He said that we shouldn't worry that much."

Ron stood. She turned to him. "Emotional turmoil! There were old and raw bruises all over his body!"

"Bruises? You said nothing about bruises!"

"I saw them last night!"

"You didn't say anything about bruises during breakfast!"

They walked hastily to class again. "There he is."

Hermione pulled Ron back from his collar, choking him. "Don't mention anything about this to him," she whispered in his ear quickly.

"Yes, Professor Snape!" he choked back.

She rolled her eyes and let him go.

Class dragged slowly as everything seemed normal.

As Hermione made her way once more into Professor Dumbledore's office with Ron this time, Draco Malfoy passed them like a gust of wind.

They turned and glanced at him wondering what is happening with him before continuing their way to the office.

Malfoy made his way through the corridors and past the Great Hall, up the Astronomy Tower and into the top floor's space. "Accio wand!" He panted loudly. Motherfucker! The things he makes me do. His fingers closed around the wand that flew towards him. "Suicide isn't allowed on Hogwarts grounds."

Startled greens stared wide grays. There was no smirk and no side-dish of snide comments.

"You? What the hell are you doing?"

No reply, only a constricted throat in shock.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" Malfoy said with light sarcasm, nonetheless serious. His eyes narrowed in rage. "I ASKED YOU A QUESTION, POTTER. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

"WHY DO YOU CARE?"

It was as if Malfoy could hear a string snap. He took a step forward as the other took a step backwards in return.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I want to know what the hell you're doing, Potter."

The door slammed open. Both of them turned to Professor Dumbledore, Hermione and Ron at the door.

Malfoy, with a quick whisper, waved his wand at the door and sealed it. He turned to the sight of a dagger on its descent.

"NO!" He flung himself forwards and wrestled him down, all the while pinning the armed hand to the ground next to them. When Malfoy successfully immobilized him, he started removing the dagger from the grasp, ignoring physical and verbal protests. He pushed the dagger away a safe distance and pinned the hands above the raven hair. "You brainless fuck, what are you thinking?"

"Get off me…"

"ANSWER ME!"

"Ow…" a tiny whimper came before a small sob.

"Don't play games with me, Potter."

"Please… you're hurting me…"

"You were about to kill yourself and I'm hurting you?" Malfoy said, finding the situation completely absurd.

"No more pain… No more…"

Malfoy blinked. What the hell? That was all he could think off as Harry Potter completely broke and The Boy Who Lived died in his hold.

At a gut-wrenching wail, the door exploded off its hinges as frantic others approached rapidly.