orokid: okay… I'm not as much as a flake on this story like I am on my other ones (cough cough- Gundam Wing:Reborn- cough cough) but I had actually kinda planned this for the third chapter- not the fourth. Anyway… I'm sure you're tired of hearing me spew about my horrible concoctions, but… eh… whatever…

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters in it. At all. I wish I did though… (cries)

Chapter Four

Harry held his coffee cup lazily in his hand, his body exhausted and his eyes threatening to droop until they would close. He wouldn't admit as to why he felt this way, but anyone who had eyes could tell that it had to be something that dealed with the bushy haired beauty who had slept in his arms the night before.

He rubbed his sleepy eyes, trying hard to wake himself up. He hated how she was a blessing and a curse to him, although she was up against many of his own adventures with insomnia. But he loved how she could make him burn with a passion no one knew he had within his lean body, how she could give him that poor and pathetic look only to turn around his opinion to suit hers, how she'd be shy when she needed protective arms to surround her in the middle of the night and sleep in his embrace until one of the other rolled out of bed.

And, like usual, Harry was lazily staring down at the deep rich brown color of his coffee, only to be reminded of what he had left upstairs and made him want to return to her again- if only to watch her as she breathed in and out. That, in itself, was able to make any day better, for that was just what she did.

He loved her for it.

Yes, that's right. He loved her. He didn't know when he had started to, but he never wanted it to end. That's all he knew and understood, and he was fine with that.

The part that irritated him the most was that she'd never feel the same for him, that her heart didn't hurt every time she saw him because her feelings hadn't been told to the one she adores. His hurt. It ached, knowing that all he was and could ever be was an embrace for the lonely and left behind, and that nothing could ever become beyond that. There wasn't anything for him and his love interest past being her best mate.

Harry wanted so much more than that…

Flipping the brand new Daily Prophet over and sighing, he began the tradition of finding a flat they could rent or buy together, like he always did when he didn't trudge upstairs to join the object of his affections. He ignored the front page, saving that for when he'd actually have given up on his search for the perfect flat.

It didn't take him very long, and Harry was starting to think that there was no such thing as perfect when it came to a material thing like that. Still, he wouldn't give up, but rather wait until tomorrow to continue such a routine thing. Was a three bedroom, two bathroom, medium sized kitchen, medium sized common room such a horrible thing to put on sale in London? Considering how he couldn't find it, he assumed that it must have been.

Right then, he was thinking that he should just get one built instead. It would be easier to deal with, although he knew that he wouldn't ever spend more money than what was currently in the Weasley account.

Harry couldn't stop himself for mentally spitting at the name, remembering the one who had hurt and left the angel who had fallen from grace. It had left the spawn of Hades himself to catch her and care for her wings, and he'd hope beyond hope that she'd follow him back into the underworld like a forgotten and loving puppy. A minion of Hell cannot and will not coax one of the beautiful ones into the lonely pits he called home.

As much as she'd tell him differently, he knew exactly where he belonged- and it wasn't on Earth or in the heavens.

Something slammed into the doors over and over again suddenly, and the emerald eyed youth found his arm reflexively reaching for the wand that had been hastily placed into his pocket that morning. Grumbling, he cast a silencing charm upon the entire bottom floor, hoping not to wake Hermione earlier than she needed to be awoken, and moved to the front door where the disturbance was taking place.

And he smiled briefly at the red-headed young man who was at the door, hoping that there was an apology waiting for the angel upstairs. This sight seemed to brighten his morning, and he pocketed his wand, hopeful for the happiness of the love of his life. He widely opened the door-

Only to be hit square in the face with a force that he hadn't known his friend to ever have within him.

The Boy-Who-Lived found himself lying on the floor, his glasses sliding across the opening hallway (and he assumed they were broken, thinking of the force he had been hit with). He felt something metallic tasting sliding down the back of his throat, and red streams flowing down from his nose. His face throbbed in pain as his fingers wrapped around the bleeding object, the sticky red substance flowing through his hands like nothing, and he shifted his weight around so he might be able to get up-

But a foot rammed into his side, pushing him down to the floor again.

"How do you like it, you bloody prick!" the red haired boy shouted in anger, his entire body shaking as he stared down at the young man with raven hair and emerald eyes. Harry only stared, nearly blind, up at the blurry form of the man who was supposed to be his friend, confused as to why the boy he once knew so well was being so violent. "How dare you take her from me, you bloody arse! How DARE you!" The toe of his sneaker slammed into Harry's chest repeatedly, and Harry could only gasp in pain with each strike.

"What're you- GAH!- doing Ron! I'm your friend!" It was a futile attept, he could admit now, considering that he should've understood why his male best mate was beating him senseless. In fact, those words had only caused him to pound harder, kicking in his side again and again, faster than before. It was like he was trying to kill him! "Stop it! Stop it, Ron!" He heard something crack, and then something else, and the raven haired young man was sure that his ribs had been broken in two with all the pain that swam through his system right then. If this continued, he knew that he would eventually die at the hands of a boy he once cared for like a brother.

And then… it all stopped.

He hadn't known what had happened, but he was thankful for whatever or whoever it was. Ron had fallen back, his entire body seemingly petrified while his eyes still glared at him angrily. But… it seemed as though his red-headed new enemy was focusing upon Harry's savior with the same malicious glint in his crystal-like eyes.

It was then that he felt the soft hands of his angel, his protector, resting upon his shoulder and cheek. Her chocolate eyes gleamed with unshed tears, and he felt his heart break as he looked straight into them with his fuzzy vision. "I-I'll go call Ginny and tell her what happened. You stay still and I… I'll go alert Saint Mungo's of your condition."

"N-No…" he whispered softly, looking up to her with his own damp sparkling green eyes. He felt so weak now, after the entire struggle he had put up with the male that laid not too far away from them. "I'll do it. You and-" He coughed, pain flowing throughout his broken and bruised body, and Hermione looked down at his lips in fear. It was obvious to her that Ronald's assault had broken bones and ripped through organs Harry most certainly needed, and she knew that only by the thin trail of blood that flowed from his lips after he had coughed. "You and the baby-"

"Harry!" she demanded, watching him in the eye with both dread and the look she normally gave him before homework was due (and when his work was incompletely)- the 'you-better-pay-attention' look. "If you keep talking, more damage will be done, and- and-" She couldn't tell him that she wouldn't forgive herself if he died, his final act protecting both her and her unborn child from the stress her ex-boyfriend and the father of his baby was bringing into her life. She couldn't say that she hated how broken he looked right then, yet how beautiful as well, trying to smile through the grimace. She couldn't tell him that… that she was beginning to feel for her raven haired best mate as she had for the red-head who still laid paralyzed across from them.

Hermione's hands moved to take the weak palm of her friend, and she could only give him a teary smile. "I think… I think we should get you to Saint Mungo's now instead of later, Harry…"

"No, no. I'm… fine." He tried to laugh, but only ended up coughing once again, blood dripping from his lips, his face paling with every drip to the glossy wooden floors. He was scaring her, and evern more so when he reached up to touch her cheek with his bloodstained fingertips that seemed electrified as well. What was he doing? Why was he wasting his precious energy on a meaningless task of touching her? Why was he-

"I… I love… you…" With that, his hand fell from her face to the floor with a thud, his head lulling to the side while his eyes closed.

"Harry?" she whispered softly, staring at the young male with wide chocolate saucers, his blood across her cheek like war paint for the Native American Indians. She tenderly reached over to his shoulders and gently shook him, and, when he didn't respond, shook him harder. "Harry!"

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orokid: DUHN DUHN DUUUUUH! And… once again, it sucks. Thank you very much for reading, and don't worry too much about our poor little Harry. By the way, I am not done with this fic yet! It'll be a while until this is actually done.

But… is Harry going to live to the next chapter!

Other than that…

PLEASE REVIEW! ((I know you want to do it…))