Sorry, last chapter I repeated the part about Harry finding the Half-Blood prince book. I hope you ignore that little mistake! The plot goes on with me reviewing the shit I write from now on lol.

-Lemon Nugget

"Harry let's go to Hogsmeade this weekend." Ron proposed with a goofy smile on his face. Hermione had a much more serious expression. That's the last thing Harry wanted to do; he wasn't sure he wanted to do much of anything.

"Fine." Fuck. The words slipped out on an old reflex. A reflex that told him to do anything his friends wanted for fear of being alone again. Did it really matter what he did though? The constant feeling of loneliness never seemed to dissipate.

"Good. Harry, you better be there." Hermione stared him down and Harry could feel the sweat leaking down his neck. She finally broke eye contact, Harry sighed in relief. As Hermione and Ron left, Harry noticed the final glance she sent his way. He turned away from them, a horrible pit in his stomach reminding Harry that it was still there.

But he was alright. He'd go to Hogsmeade tomorrow and everything would be fine. Those thoughts in his mind felt like lies. They couldn't be lies; Harry was determined to make them the truth.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. It's funny how when you were dreading something it came faster. Time was a strange thing that Harry hated. That night he somehow slept more fitfully than normal. His sunken eyes stared at the ceiling as he lay there, unmoving, hoping for sleep to take him into her peaceful embrace. She never came.

Dawn broke with Harry still wide awake; he wasn't sure what was on his mind that kept him up. There were always demons in the back of his head, but that wasn't new. He chose to lay there for a moment more, closing his eyes and releasing a deep sigh. He removed himself from the bed, though all he wanted to do was bed rot.

He dragged himself to the bathroom, he was overdue for a shower. He took off his Dudley rags that once were clothes. He caught his emaciated body in the mirror and scowled. Usually when he got to Hogwarts the starvation was over, and he plumped up and gained some muscle. The opposite was happening. Harry looked like a starved dog, but he just couldn't stomach most foods anymore. He had to wear extra clothes just to seem normal. Quidditch had become especially difficult for him.

He turned on the shower to a punishing level of heat. He didn't have the energy to stand so he sat, curled into a ball as the steaming water poured down his bare body. He didn't know how long he had sat there. He heard other boys enter the room, then exit. He heard laughter and playfighting. At the Dursley's he would sit under the water until he got yelled at or the water went cold. Neither would happen here. Maybe his skin would melt off and they'd find him one day. Dead and decomposing, naked and alone. A morbid thought that he pushed away.

If he didn't have somewhere to be today, he'd have sat there all day. The water almost silenced his head. He sighed and finished washing himself, scrubbing his scalp until it was sore. Before stepping out from the shower he listened for people. They shouldn't see him like this.

Once the coast was clear he wrapped a fluffy white towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower. He patted his skin dry and put on the nicest clothes he owned. A pair of jeans that needed a belt and an oversized grey T-shirt with a couple of holes. It's not like Harry was broke, he was kind of wealthy by wizarding standards. It's just that this made him feel safer, less exposed. He'd stand out less, even though that was impossible for Harry James Potter.

Harry walked out of the bathroom and down to the common room. As he suspected, Hermione and Ron were waiting for him on the couch. They sat far away from each other and Harry sensed some tension, but it dissipated the moment they spotted Harry.

"Jesus, mate, took ya long enough." Ron said while shaking his head. Harry laughed hollowly. Hermione looked him up and down, she didn't look satisfied with his appearance. A twinge of annoyance shot through him. What right did she have to judge him? Who did she fucking lose?

"You ready to go, Harry?" asked Hermione gently, too softly, like he was glass doomed to break.

"Yep." He popped the 'p' emphasizing it. Hermione stood up first and Ron followed her lead clumsily. Hermione glared at him for such a short time Harry nearly missed it. Harry really wasn't up to date with their strange drama. He was a sucky friend right now.

"You should probably grab a jacket, Harry. It's snowing outside." Hermione mentioned. Harry was simultaneously grateful and aggravated. He huffed and wandered his way upstairs before returning with a ragged windbreaker. Hermione looked utterly disgusted when she spotted it.

"Harry, no! You'd catch a cold or worse!" she exclaimed aghast. Harry shrugged, his care for his own health has gone from slim to none these past couple of months. Hermione made a 'tsk' noise with her mouth and turned to Ron.

"Can you go get something that's going to keep Harry warm." asked Hermione. Ron thought for a moment then nodded, disappearing upstairs. He came back with a puffy and worn winter jacket that quite frankly looked ridiculous. Harry would rather freeze to death.

Harry gave Hermione a look, Hermione gave Harry a look. Needless to say, Harry ended up wearing the stupid fucking jacket. He almost had to waddle in the thing, it was embarrassing. He had a redness in his cheeks that wasn't from the chilly air. They walked together in a silence that was usually filled by Hermione's nagging or Ron's chatter. That silence was unnatural, it made Harry feel strangely at peace.

They'd finally arrived at Hogsmeade after a short trek. Same path as before, Harry found himself choked up. It reminded him of Sirius. Of the man who allowed him to experience this place for the first time. Oh, how he missed him. Harry wanted to be happy today he really did, but he felt the ability leave him as the loss creeped back in. Why couldn't he just be fucking normal? Normal people would've been over this shit by now.

He bit back tears and wiped his suddenly leaking nose. This trip wasn't about him anyway, he didn't want to go. It was for them; he was doing this for them. His friends, even if sometimes they didn't feel like his friends.

"Let's have a butterbeer, eh? Warm us up some." Ron suggested as he hugged himself, his teeth chattering the entire time. Hermione rolled her eyes but nodded, leading the way, her boots leaving a trail in the snow. Harry followed Ron; he felt sluggish all of a sudden.

They entered The Three Broomsticks with a soft chime of a bell. The flood of warmth through Harry's veins startled him. The spot was cozy as ever, young wizards and witches crowded together and the older ones at the bar. Madam Rosmerta served drinks; some men leered at her. They eyed her curvy body and her mature but pretty face. Harry had to admit, with her green eyes, soft and subtle green not like his, and her honey blond curls she was a beauty.

Madam Rosmerta spotted the lot of them, and she smiled, a set of perfect white teeth gleaming.

"I'll be right with ya." She called out before returning her attention to the crowd in front of her. Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced around the place looking for an open booth.

"Oh jeez, poor Luna." Whispered Hermione so only Harry and Ron could hear. Harry's eyes darted around the room, looking for the girl Hermione was talking about. There, at the very last booth, sat Luna Lovegood. He recognized those dirty blonde locs of hair and that dreamy stare anywhere.

He supposed Hermione said poor Luna because she was all alone. But he knew Luna and he knew that she liked it that way. 'Keeps the wrackspurts away' she claimed. It'd been a week since he'd seen her last and an ache in his heart made itself known as he stared at her.

"We're sitting next to her." Harry didn't give them a chance to protest as Harry suspected Ron would. He grabbed them both by the hand and dragged them towards Luna. She didn't notice them at first, she nursed a cup of butterbeer in her hands and her eyes were focused on something distant.

"Luna?" Harry breathed. He hadn't meant to sound like that. So desperate for her attention, so apologetic, so lost. Her pale eyes shifted into focus and then onto him. She frowned when she saw him and that hurt.

"Oh, Harry...They keep getting worse." Luna bemoaned shaking her head. Ron and Hermione looked concerned for the girl's sanity.

"What keeps getting worse?" He dared ask, fearing the answer. Luna stands up without a word, embracing Harry.

"The Tristi, Harry. They've invaded your soul." She whispered. And as he hugs her tight, he's frightened she may be right.