Chapter 39
They had inhabited the same roof for over a week, and the most he said to her was, well, nothing. Harry looked at her, peeked at her, and that was pretty much it. He did think about talking to her. More than once, twice, three times actually, but hesitated before a single word came to mind. He thought he would have to wait three weeks, and now here she was, and he was behaving like a coward. Of course, it would have been easier if they didn't have a habit of arguing every time either one of them said a word. It would make any person a little wary. But he knew he couldn't put it off any longer. Especially since he knew he would have to make the first move after their last 'friendly' chat.
Closing the door gently behind him, he heard the floor creak beneath his feet. The squeaking sounds announcing his presence.
"Mom, I already told you I'm not –" Turning around, Buffy realized that the new person in the room was definitely not her mother. "Hi," she said in surprise.
"You're not high?" Harry asked, amused.
She gave a tiny, embarrassed laugh that settled into a tiny, teasing smile.
"Well, I'm waiting for the dead rodent smell to kick in," she said. He gave a small chuckle and that tiny smile that lay on her lips soon disappeared. Replaced by a slightly apprehensive look. "We're not gonna start arguing again, are we?"
"I hope not," he said, giving a shy smirk.
"Good," she responded, sounding relieved. "'Cause it was getting a bit old don't cha think?"
"Definitely," he replied, a little more than relieved himself.
They grew quiet. Neither one of them really knowing where to go from here. She noticed how fidgety he was. He was nervous, she could tell, but then again so was she. They still had a somewhat ways to go before they settled into some sort of comfort zone. Of course, just staring at him wasn't going to ease the situation either. So, offering a glimpse of a friendly smile, Buffy slowly turned forward again. Her insides feeling all knotty as she resumed her previous task.
Okay, so far, no loud words. That was good. All they had to do was keep it up.
Scratching the back of his neck nervously, Harry moved closer to where she was sitting.
"D-do you mind if I join you?" he asked, his cheeks tinting slightly at the stutter.
Buffy glanced up toward him. Surprised he was asking. Surprised he was even up here.
"Oh, uh, no. Of course not," she answered. "Pull up some floor."
They shared a wobbly smile as he lowered himself next to her. Friendly, polite, and unsure. Then they settled into one of those awkward and tense silences again. One would think they'd be used to those by now.
So, here he was. Now what? Harry racked his brain for something to talk about that didn't sound completely stupid, or would start any kind of fighting, then he suddenly remembered what Buffy had begun to say when he first came into the room. At least it was something.
"So, what is it that you're not doing?" he asked.
It took her a second to realize what he was talking about, and when she did, an annoyed sigh escaped her lips.
"Hiding," she replied.
"Aren't you?" he smirked knowingly.
"Yes," she replied, barefaced. "But my mother doesn't need to know that."
Harry grinned. "Gets annoying, doesn't it? Having everybody keep asking you if you're okay."
"Actually, I think annoying falls short. But then again you would know all about that wouldn't you?" Oh, he definitely knew all about that all right, which is why she didn't wait for him to respond. "Besides, we couldn't just let Buckbeak starve now, could we?"
They turned to look at the creature in question, who was looking back at them in return, or more specifically at Buffy, who had its food in her hand.
"So, is that your excuse for being up here?"
"That," she nodded, and then tossed the dead rodent to the Hippogriff, who gobbled it right up, "and feeding Buckbeak gives me a twisted sense of satisfaction."
That was definitely an odd thing to say, and from the unapologetic look on her face, it seemed Buffy was extremely aware of that fact.
"Because?"
Lifting up another dead rat by the tail, she dangled it in front of him, and Harry could feel his lunch about to meet his throat again.
"Remind of you anybody?" she asked.
A flash of Peter Pettigrew's face came to his mind. So, did the anger that usually came right along with whenever he remembered the rat. Turning quickly to her, he noticed a knowing look on her face. Like she knew exactly whom he was thinking about. Probably because she was thinking the same thing, or else, why did she get that twisted sense of satisfaction from feeding dead rats to the bird-like creature.
Without saying a word, Buffy handed the dead rodent over to Harry. Without hesitation, Harry grabbed its tail and tossed it over to Buckbeak. Both of them watching as the Hippogriff began to tear it apart. And a tiny, little feeling of gratification rose up in him. Right before a troubled one settled in his chest when he realized how morbid this was.
"This is disturbing," he said, as he turned to her.
"Tell me about it," she replied. "Not to mention it makes my hands all smelly afterwards."
Harry looked down at his upturned palms and screwed up his face. Knowing they were most likely stinky by now, and how badly they might smell. After all, you can't handle a dead rat without getting some sort of stench on your hands.
As she watched him, Buffy couldn't help but smile at how cute he looked as he made his grossed-out expressions. N-not that she thought he was cute, it was more like bunny cute, not boy cute – not that he wasn't boy cute, it's – okay just going to stop thinking now.
"So, get anything good for Christmas?" she desperately tried to reach for a new topic.
"A few things," he said, wiping his hands on his jeans, which then occurred to him was not such a good idea. Now he was going to have rat-smelling jeans. Just what every boy wants. "I got a wallet from Hagrid, and Sirius and Remus gave me a book. And, uh, Ron gave me a big box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans…"
A sudden memory popped into her mind when she heard Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. A very clear memory. His face screwed up in disgust, herself laughing. She had almost forgotten about that. She smiled as she remembered and felt herself get pulled back into the memory; and before she realized what she was doing, she caught Harry completely by surprise and punched him gently in the arm.
Whatever he was thinking flew out of his brain. His eyes went wide, he stopped talking, his mouth dropped slightly, and he looked completely bewildered.
"Didn't think I'd forget, did you?" she asked, her eyes teasing him to remember.
"What…?"
He thought back; maybe it was something he had said. And slowly but surely, it was. Suddenly his own memories came flooding through, and she made perfect sense. Only he saw it differently, and he wasn't about to take it lying down. He was right. He said it then and he would say it now.
"No, now wait a minute. I never –" he began to argue.
"Oh, you so did."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did."
"No, no, no."
"Yes, yes, yes."
"No, I remember it and –"
"So, do I."
"No. See, there was a smell."
"There was no smell. Stop saying there was a smell."
"There was a smell!"
"Admit it. I won!"
"You did not!"
Their voices had become excited as they lost themselves in the argument. Inadvertently falling back into the familiar comfort, they used to feel, in the process.
"Yes, I did! I remember it," she championed for her side. "You reached into the bag, popped it into your mouth and then made the face. You so made the face!"
"No, I reached into the bag, put it in my mouth, and then that was that," he explained. "It was disgusting, but that's not why I made the face."
"Yes, it was!"
"No, it wasn't!"
"Yes. It was."
"No. It wasn't. There was a smell."
"You smell!"
The moment she said it, they burst into laughter. They couldn't help it. And it felt good. It felt needed. The moment those first few chuckles were let out, they could feel their nervousness and tension start to melt away. Something that had been plaguing them since Buffy's return.
Leaning back on her arms, Buffy let her final giggles spill as she regained her steady breathing.
"I'm curious," she began, and then cleared her throat for good measure. "What was the flavor anyway?"
Harry let out one last chuckle before he could answer. Which took him a minute to remember. "It was, uh…rotten egg, I think."
"Ew," she spewed, scrunching her eyebrows together. "Maybe that was the smell."
They let out whatever small chuckles they had left, and soon after, they grew quiet again. But this time it wasn't awkward or uneasy. As a matter of fact, it was the complete opposite.
"Listen, Buffy," Harry softly broke through the silence. "I just wanted to apologize. Again. For what happened. You were right. I guess it never occurred to me that life can be just as complicated halfway around the world as it can be here. I'm sorry."
"Thanks," she said in appreciation. "But to be fair, I didn't exactly give you notice. You couldn't've known what was going on. So, part of it was my fault, too. I should've written. At least to say I was going to be unreachable for a while. It was kinda messed up of me to just leave you hanging like that. So, I'm sorry, too."
"Sounds like we both have a lot to be sorry for," he pointed out.
"And a lot to catch up on," she agreed, before the nervous flutters began when she realized how unsure she was of her previous statement. "I-I mean if you want. We don't have to if you don't want to. It's not like there's pressure here. 'Cause there's not. You know, pressure. It's just a suggestion, but I would understand if –"
"You're rambling," he said and smiled at the familiarity, remembering how she would even ramble in her letters.
"Right. Stopping now," she smiled in embarrassment. "But we're good now? Or are there any more unexpected squabbles I should be expecting?"
"Merlin, I hope not," he let out in a semi-groan, and then leaned back to rest on his elbows. "But who knows. Now that we're talking again, you'll probably do something to wreck it."
"Right," she drawled. "Because it's always my fault."
"Truer words were never spoken."
Glaring, Buffy gave him a gentle push, and slowly the comfort level began to rise little by little. Their smiles didn't look uneasy and it seemed like the grudge that had been holding them apart was getting to be of the past. Finally.
Grabbing another rat from the bag, Buffy tossed it over to Buckbeak. Both she and Harry quietly watching as it tore it apart.
"I still won by the way," she said.
"Yeah, yeah."
Second Year…
They hadn't told him anything, and he wasn't even sure why he was worried. She did a nice thing – as out of character as that was. He just needed to ease his conscience, that's all. He just wanted to make sure she was okay, and then that would be that. No more worry and it would be out of his mind.
Creeping into the empty room, he kept his eyes and ears peeled for a warning. It was past curfew; he was out of bed and being where he shouldn't. Wrapping the cloak tighter around himself, he made it across to the floor, to the farthest bed in the corner, behind the curtain. He quickened his pace, hoping to get in and out before he was seen. One peek and then he would be gone. That was the plan. Arriving at the only occupied bed, he steeled himself for whatever may be, and faced her.
Not a scratch, scrape, or bruise. She was okay, and he let out a breath of relief. So much for all that unnecessary worry.
He couldn't help but stand there for a minute, to watch as she slept. He had never seen her look so peaceful. No smirk or haughty expression on her face. Not even close to the same girl he had grown to dislike so deeply. It was almost unreal.
Suddenly, she jerked her face to the side, and he flinched back, startled. Her eyebrows scrunched together, and her eyes squeezed tighter. She looked like she was in pain. Before he had a chance to breathe, she snapped her head to the other side, her expression unchanged. He could hear her breathe heavily, and see her hands bunch the sheets into her fists.
He moved closer, hoping to help in some way, but didn't know how. Her head thrashed faster and faster, and whimpers escaped her lips. His heart beat quicker and he began to panic.
"Buffy," he whispered, hoping that waking her would snap her out of it. "Buffy."
Her eyes suddenly popped open, and she gasped for air. Beads of sweat sprinkled over her skin. Her face flushed in exertion. Her wide-open eyes soon began to move rapidly over the entire room, trying to figure out where she was. Finally, they came to land on him, and her eyes narrowed in confusion. What…right, the cloak. He didn't need her to be anymore distressed than she already was. Pulling it off, he revealed himself, and when she noticed who he was, he could see her relax. A very unexpected reaction.
Whenever they came across each other, they always felt some sort of response: annoyance, irritation, dislike, nausea; but not once had that response ever been relief. It was strange, even more so when he felt something, an unknown something, jolt within him at the sight of it.
"Harry," she breathed, her voice sounding relieved.
He was familiar. She knew him. That means she was awake and out of the nightmares.
"Are – are you all right?"
She cleared her throat, and shook her head gently, trying to clear her mind. "Yeah, I – I was having a bad dream."
Just a bad dream. He could relate to that. He had many of those himself. Okay, so, she was fine. Alive and healthy. He didn't need to worry anymore, and they could go on flinging insults at each other as soon as she was back in class. He just needed to say what he came to say, on the off chance she was awake, and then get out.
"Well, I, uh…I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said trying to excuse himself. Feeling a little uneasy with her wide eyes so intently on him. "A-and to thank you for what you did. I would've said it sooner, but you were, sort of, unconscious." She still didn't say anything, and it was even more unnerving. "So, I guess I'll just, let you get back to sleep…and, uh, goodnight, then."
His face felt warm, as he began to turn away, and he wasn't even sure why.
"Wait!" she called out suddenly and he turned back. Her voice hesitant and soft, "Will…will you stay with me?"
His eyes went wide with surprise, and it took him a while to process what she had just said. It was an unusual request coming from her. They insulated each other, mocked each other, pretty much did everything to get on each other's nerves, and now she was asking him to stay? Did she realize what she was saying? And Harry wondered if maybe she wasn't okay. She must've been more injured than he thought.
"I…"
"It's just," she said, sounding a little embarrassed. "I don't like hospitals. No matter how small they are, and…I don't want to be left by myself. I mean you don't have to stay if you don't want to. And I would understand if you didn't. I just…I don't want to be alone."
Harry felt that jolt inside of him again. She sounded so vulnerable, even a little afraid. Her eyes almost pleading and he knew he wouldn't be able to walk away. Not with her looking like that. It was just for one night, he told himself. Just until she fell asleep. Then things would go back to normal. Nothing's changed.
Looking around, to make sure he wouldn't be seen and get into trouble, he walked to the other side of the bed and pulled up a nearby chair. He sat, resting his cloak on his lap just in case he needed to pull it on in a flash.
She was both surprised and relieved he had agreed to stay. She would've never asked, especially not of him, vulnerability was not something she liked to show, but her mind wasn't exactly in a strong state right now. She just knew she didn't want to be left alone. Not after the nightmares that were still fresh, and especially not here.
They sat quietly. They weren't friends, and being in a place all alone was not exactly what they considered comfortable.
"So…why," Harry began, and then cleared his throat, hoping that sharing a conversation would help to ease things. "Why, uh…why don't you like hospitals?"
Her face turned away from him immediately, and he could've kicked himself. It wasn't any of his business. He should've known that. Now, she was upset – n–not, like he cared, because he didn't, it was just none of his business, and he didn't need her to get hysterical and get him into trouble. That was all. He was almost about to apologize when she spoke, and he had never heard her sound so small.
"My cousin died in one," she admitted. "When I was eight. I hated them ever since."
She didn't know why she told him. Only a few people knew about her aversion to hospitals. Must be her weak state of mind again. She would spill her heart out right now if someone asked her to.
"I'm sorry."
Buffy only shrugged, but kept her face away from him, and Harry was afraid to say anything else. The quiet greeted them again. They could hear the faint sounds of splashing from the Merpeople coming from the lake, the chirping of crickets, and the hooting of owls as they passed by the windows.
"Can I ask you something?"
Harry jumped slightly at the sound of her soft voice as it penetrated through the silence.
"Er…sure."
Slowly Buffy turned to face him, and her voice broke a little. "What happened to me?"
She couldn't remember anything. All she had in her mind were the nightmares, but they couldn't be real. Things like that…the things she had done…the things she had seen…
"I – you don't know?" he asked, confused. She didn't know why she was up here? Did that mean she didn't know what had occurred down in the Chamber? What she had done?
"When I woke up last night, mum was here, so was Dumbledore," she said after a brief shaking of her head. "But they wouldn't tell me anything. They just kept ordering me to rest, and then told me that once I got better, they would explain."
Harry scratched the back of his head, flustered about what to say.
"Oh, well, t–to tell you the truth," he stuttered out. "They, uh, they didn't tell me anything either."
"But you said you came to check if I was okay?"
"Well, I-I did."
"Then you obviously know more than I do," she pointed out. "I mean, you could tell me what you do know? Maybe that would help me remember?"
He was definitely in a tough spot, wasn't he? Being asked to tell her things that people obviously tried to prevent her from knowing. So, the question was: should he tell her? Maybe they didn't want her to know? But why wouldn't they want her to know? Why couldn't she remember? There had to be a reason. A very valid one if Dumbledore was preventing her from finding out the truth.
"I don't know, Buffy," he said, uncertainty in his tone, one she picked up on immediately.
"Please, Harry," she pleaded. "I promise I won't say anything. You just…you don't know how frightening it is not to remember what you've done. Not knowing how or why you ended up in a hospital. Not knowing – not knowing anything."
There was that heartbreaking look on her face again. She definitely knew how to use those didn't she? And he couldn't help but fall for them. Had the world turned upside down and nobody told him? In only a few minutes, he went from disliking, to the point of loathing, Buffy Summers, to apparently giving into whatever she wanted. She was manipulating him somehow. That had to be it. And he should know better than to fall for it. She was evil. Downright evil. And he should walk out that door this very second.
"Okay," he resigned. "But remember, you promised not to tell anybody."
"I know, I promise," she agreed eagerly, hoping to unlock her mystery.
"All right." This was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea, but his mouth apparently didn't seem to care. "You see –"
"Miss Summers?"
Uh-oh, Pomfrey. Harry immediately pulled the cloak over himself and rose from his chair.
"You better go," Buffy whispered. She didn't need him to get into trouble, because for some reason, she actually cared if he did. Strange. Maybe she must've hit her head or something.
"Miss Summers?" Pomfrey called out again.
"I'll come back tomorrow," he whispered back, not even sure of why. He could've just left her in the dark. She was alive and okay, so his conscience was at ease, he didn't need to come back. So, why did he want to?
"You promise?"
And apparently, he wasn't the only one.
"Miss Summers?" Pomfrey's voice was getting closer.
"I promise," he said with a smile. Not like she could see it, but he could see her, and once again she looked relieved. And there was that jolt once again.
