Chapter 11 - Light of Hope

"I cannot believe you let her bring Hermione back here!" Ron yelled not two seconds after Harry appeared in Grimmauld Place.

Harry looked around. Hermione's lifeless body lay on the settee by the fireplace, Ron standing protectively close. His wand was aimed at Brooklyn. She had backed herself into the wall, her arms wrapped around herself as if trying to calm down.

It must have been working…she had stopped crying.

"Ron, lower your wand." Harry said.
"Why? So she can use dark magic on us next?" Ron spat.
"Ron…"
"What are you going to do Harry, huh?"
"Unlike you, I know how to use the Cruciatus Curse."

Ron's face paled considerably, but he barely lowered his wand. Harry made sure to not look at the motionless form on the couch as he turned his gaze towards Brooklyn. He moved in her direction and her eyes locked on him. Her guilt ridden eyes…

"This wasn't your fault." Harry said reaching for her. "You know that, right?"
"Not her fault? Not her fault! She killed her and she knows it!" Ron yelled. "Just look at her! 'Guilty' might as well be written on her forehead!"

Harry could hear Brooklyn's breathing become shaky. He needed to calm both her and Ron down before either one of them did something stupid. He rubbed her arm in a comforting gesture and then headed back over to Ron.

"I hope you plan on kicking her out now. I wouldn't want to have her murder us while we sleep." Ron scoffed.
"And since when do you give me orders in my house?" Harry countered, the first dregs of true anger rising up.
"I'm trying to protect you!"
"Protect me from what? A girl that I can easily overpower anytime? Please Ron." Harry's voice was laced with sarcasm.
"Easily overpower?" Brooklyn repeated, sounding annoyed.
"See!" Ron said in triumph. "She's already threatening you!"
"I was not threatening him!" Brooklyn protested.
"Shut it! Both of you!" Harry said, rubbing his forehead. "This is not helping matters."
"Nothing is going to help matters! Hermione is dead!" Ron yelled. "And it-"
"It is not her fault."
"You've been treating her better than us lately! Now you'll have to live with that on your conscience forever now that she's gone!"
Harry gaped as Ron's words processed in his head. Ron had pushed too far this time.
"There's no more room on this conscience, try your own." Harry spat inches from his face.
Ron glowered. "All you have to do to make more room is to get rid of your self-proclaimed burden standing over there."

Ron once again pointed his wand at Brooklyn and this time it looked like he was about to attack her. Diffusing matters, Harry pulled on her arm until she was located safely behind him. Ron's eyes narrowed.

"If it wasn't for Hermione I would have kicked you out of my house by now." Harry said through gritted teeth.
"Throw me out!" Ron said dumbfounded.
"Did I stutter?"
"Fine. I'll take her and go. I'll explain to her parents what happened and who's to blame for all of this."
"You mean you're going to tell them lies."
"No! I'm going to tell them it was HER!" Ron yelled trying to get a decent aim at Brooklyn, who was still behind Harry.
"No," Harry said dangerously, shaking his head. "It was Voldemort's doing, Ron. So leave, and don't come back until you remember what this is all about."

Without another word, Ron bent down and picked up Hermione's lifeless, half charred body. He turned to Harry one last time.

"It's good to know where I stand after seven years of friendship." Ron spat, his voice unusually cold. "By the way…Happy Birthday."

A happy birthday indeed.

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Noises disturbed Harry's oddly peaceful sleep. The noises were coming from the room next to his that should be empty….

He quickly grabbed his earlier discarded clothing that lye on the floor and put them on, picking up a spare sock before leaving. Without knocking, he opened the door next to his. Brooklyn had just about finished packing her belongings.

"What are you doing?" He asked, slightly panicked.
"Packing my things." Brooklyn said. "I found a place. I'll be moving in in two days."
"I thought-"
"Harry, please." She pleaded. "I can't stay here."
"Why not?"
"Harry I just can't stay here. Can we just leave it at that?"
Harry was not about to let her walk out of there without an explanation. "No. We cannot leave it at that. I want to know why."
She took a piece of parchment from her pocket and threw it at him. "That is why I'm leaving. Not to mention what has been in the Daily Prophet lately."

He opened the parchment, but didn't read it. His eyes caught two words that explained the entirety of the letter.

Hermione. Funeral.

"Brook, we've been over this so many times…" Harry started.
"Too many times." She said. "And stop calling me Brook, it's irritating."
"Why didn't you say something a week ago when I started calling you that then?"
"Because…I kept forgetting to mention it." She stammered.
"Forgetting?" he asked skeptically.
"Yes forgetting. You were so wrapped up in trying to convince me things weren't my fault that I was quite preoccupied with trying to get you to shut it."
"Shut it? Me? You were the one who was constantly worrying about Ron coming after you and that rubbish printed in the Daily Prophet! I was only trying to calm you down!"

Brooklyn had locked herself in the drawing room. All of the coaxing in the world could not bring her out. When Harry tried to forcefully enter the room, he was immediately hit by a stinging spell. He took the hint and retreated, leaving him alone with nothing but his thoughts.

He had taught himself not to think about the pain. For he was one that could not afford to be weakened by the sorrows of life…especially the one he had been dealt. Alas, he was about to return to unresolved emotions that would lead him back to the dark place he was in not so long ago. The light of hope he had finally been able to see was about to be lost again.

And he was making the conscious decision to let it slip away.

Then Ron showed up.

"I've come for her things." Ron said.

Ron made no effort to look at Harry and walked straight up the stairs to the room Hermione had been staying in. Harry followed cautiously, watching as Ron packed her things from the doorway. Ron paused, holding one of her shirts in his hand.

"This was her favorite." He whispered.

Harry could see the tears begin to run down the sides of his face as he continued to stare at the shirt in his hands.

"Ron…" Harry had no idea what he was going to say when he began that sentence.
"Thought you might like to see this." Ron said coldly.

He pulled the Daily Prophet out of his cloak and threw it at Harry's head. Harry caught it and unrolled it, revealing yesterday's paper. Low and behold, there was the picture Harry assumed would make its way into the paper, with a headline quite close to what Brooklyn had stated. Harry didn't bother to read the article and continued to watch Ron, desperately trying to think of something to say.

Ron stood up when he had finished packing Hermione's things, wiping his face from the tears that had escaped from his eyes. He walked straight up to Harry and glared at him for a minute before he finally spoke.

"Still coming to her defense I take it?" Ron hissed.
"Ron, don't do this." Harry said calmly. "Hermione wouldn't want us arguing like this."
"Don't talk about her like you actually care!"
"I do care, Ron! How can you even think that I don't!"
"Because you defend her murderer! If she didn't try to kill her then explain to me why the supposed inferi only attacked her!"
"It was probably instructed to attack muggle-borns!"
"We don't even know if she is muggle-born!" Ron yelled, clearly growing angrier. "You know what, I've heard enough from you! Have fun with your murdering girlfriend or whatever she is to you, because she's blatantly more important to you than your friends!"

Before Harry even had the chance to retort, Ron apparated out of there.

"She didn't do anything wrong…" Harry said to the spot where Ron had been standing.

He decided it would probably be best if he put the Daily Prophet in a place where Brooklyn wouldn't find it. It would probably upset her even more.

Naturally, she found it.

"And what did it always result in?" She pushed. "Where did all of that talking lead us every time?"

Harry didn't respond even though he knew the answer and let his fingers examine the material of the sock in his hand.

"You know exactly where it led to." She said. "Speaking of which, your shirt is inside out."
"You left your sock…" He said, tossing it to her.
"I'm sorry. I just can't let this turn into something more."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want something like that! I gave up on relationships a long time ago!"
"Then why even start something with me!"
"I thought you knew and understood that it meant absolutely nothing!"
"Except you have a problem now." He said coolly.
"And what would that be?" She challenged, her arms crossed.
"It's turned into something more for you." He moved closer to her.
"Harry…don't." She warned.
"You don't have to leave, Brook." He murmered, running his fingers down her arm.
"Don't call me that."
"Don't leave." He breathed into her ear.

He took his hands and tucked her hair behind her ears. Her eyes were already closed as he cupped her face with his hands. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, feeling the slight movement of her bottom lip that he already knew well.

"This is something more." He said. "You are something more to me."

He went to draw her to him again, but she stopped him.

"I can't do this." She said, backing away from him.

She picked up the sock that was left lying on the floor and put it in her bag. She picked up her bag and headed for the door.

"I'm going to stay in my dad's house for the next few days," She said. "And there's nothing you can do to change my mind."

He knew by the tone in her voice that he was defeated and he unwillingly accepted this as she drew closer to the door. While she cursed at her broken zipper on her bag, he heard a tapping on the window. It was a post owl carrying a letter. He opened the window and allowed the owl, as well as the chilling October air, in. The owl dropped the letter to Brooklyn and retreated back outside.

"It's about time! I thought they forgot about me," she said after quickly scanning the letter.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"A new work schedule. In fact, I should probably change now."

Harry showed himself out and went downstairs, not wanting this looming farewell to be their last. He would ask for her new address. They would meet up. She would have changed her mind about him by then, right? He groaned and was internally punching himself for even thinking those thoughts. If there was one thing he knew for sure about Brooklyn in the few months span that he had known her, it was that she was not easily persuaded once she had made a decision.

Just when he was about to administer the final blow to all of his hope on her, he heard her clear her throat behind him. He turned around and saw her standing there in the only outfit she had that actually fit her figure. A figure that was no longer emaciated thanks to him.

He stared at her. His memory was being jogged by the sight of that outfit. By no means were they coherent memories, but they were memories.

"What?" She asked. "Is there something wrong with the uniform?"

He got a sickening feeling as he replayed the memory in his head.

"Harry, can I talk to you?" An apprehensive voice asked.
Harry, who was laughing hysterically at something Brooklyn had just said, turned around to see Ginny standing behind him.
"You are talking me." He said with a stupid grin.
"I meant alone." Ginny said as her eyes quickly glanced at Brooklyn, then back to him.
"I'll go." Brooklyn said as she began to stand up.
"Please don't leave, I was enjoying our conversation!" Harry protested, grabbing her hand.

Once he had a firm grip on it, he pulled her back down to her chair and moved her chair very close to his own. He placed her hand on the table and kept his hand over hers; attempting to make sure she was not going to leave.

"Now, what were you saying, Ginny?" Harry said with a stupid grin.
"I-uh…Harry can we please go somewhere to talk?" Ginny pleaded.
Harry let out an overdramatic sigh. "Oh alright!" He turned to Brooklyn. "You better be here when I get back!"

Harry stood up and stumbled along behind Ginny to a corner of the room. He didn't even notice the fidgeting Ginny since all that was on his mind was the fact that he was very upset that he had left his glass of champagne on the table. He really wanted that champagne.

"I miss you Harry." Ginny finally said. "I miss you a lot."
Harry almost laughed at her comment that he for some reason found amusing.
"I just think that things ended kind of abruptly and that, well, they shouldn't have ended at all," she said while looking off to the side.
The situation was growing increasingly amusing to Harry and for the life of him he didn't know why. By now he was letting his smile show.
Ginny stepped forward and took his hands in hers. "I think we should start over, or we could just pick up where we left off."
He couldn't help himself. He started laughing. Ginny did not look amused by his reaction.
"Why are you laughing?" Ginny demanded.
"I'm sorry! I don't know why!" Harry said, still laughing. He looked back towards the table he had been sitting at. His drink and Brooklyn were no longer there. "I thought I told her to stay put!"
"Is that why you're laughing at me? Because of this server you just started talking to? What is she going to give you some action after the reception? Is that why you don't want to lose sight of her!" Ginny was definitely not a happy person.
Harry rubbed his forehead. "I seriously need my drink right now."
"Well then go find your slut for the night and get it. I'm sure she's probably serving some more."
"Hey now! You don't even know her, be nice."
"You don't know her either!"
"She's a lot nicer than you are right now."

He turned and began walking away. Before he knew it, he had been turned around quickly. His head felt like it was spinning, but that only registered momentarily before being taken over by the fact that Ginny had just pulled him into a kiss.

He pulled himself away. "What the hell Ginny?"
"You taste like alcohol." she said.
"Well, he has been drinking it." Brooklyn's voice came. "You left this at the table; I thought you might want it. I have to get back to work now."
"No! Let's go sit down and talk!" Harry said grabbing her hand and leading her over to the table they had been sitting at before he had gotten up. Saying parting words to Ginny never even crossed his mind.
"Was that a former girlfriend?" Brooklyn asked after sitting down.
Harry nodded while drinking from his glass.
"To hell with relationships, they're so overrated and pointless."
"I'll drink to that!" Harry said before finishing off his glass.
"Glad to know that someone agrees with me." Brooklyn said with a smile.

"No, nothing's wrong with your uniform." Harry said somewhat dejectedly.
"Well, I need to get going." She said walking towards him. "Letting me stay here with you for this time really has meant a lot to me. I really appreciate it."
"It was nothing really." He said while staring at the ground, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
"I-uh guess I'll see you around then." She said.
He glanced up, hoping that she couldn't see his pleading eyes. "Yeah. See you around."

She smiled at him before turning and walking toward the door. Every muscle in his body was begging him to move forward, but his brain would not send them the signal to do so. Instead he stood there with his hands in his pockets and watched her walk out of the door. He knew she had no intention of ever seeing him again.

And as the door closed, so did his light of hope.