The Trouble With Harry

The Trouble With Harry

Chapter 3: Why CanÂ’t You See?

Ron stalked down the hall towards the Divination tower.

Fists clenched at his sides he muttered angrily (and quite loudly) to himself drawing stares and giggles from a group of second years heading in the opposite direction.

‘This is just great,’ he thought.

What was Harry thinking? Helping a Slytherin! Giving Malfoy a hand!

Sure Harry was a kind-hearted person, and helping someone up like that would come naturally to him. But still, this was Malfoy! He was the exception, the one person who deserved HarryÂ’s kindness the least. Hell, Malfoy didnÂ’t even deserve to breath the same air as Harry.

Ron shook his head as he reached the steps up to the Divination classroom.

The hall was empty and the trap door to the classroom shut tightly. Being early to a class, let alone one of his most loathed classes, was not normal behavior for Ron. He hadnÂ’t realized how fast he had been walking when heÂ’d left the dungeons. It usually took Harry and him a good fifteen minutes to make their way there, from the subterranean potions room, all the way up one of the tallest towers in the castle.

Ron slumped his lanky form against the wall and stared blankly out the window across the hall. He could see the lake from here.

The sunÂ’s warm May rays reflected off the soft waves in the water. Warm diamond ripples.

Like what heÂ’d seen in MalfoyÂ’s eyes.

Ron frowned.

He had seen it, the look on MalfoyÂ’s face. HeÂ’d seen it!

It was like amazementÂ…and adoration. It was all there in his eyes, a flicker of a warm twinkle, a golden ray peeking through all the stormy greyness.

Ron himself would admit that he was not he most perceptive person. It had taken him a year and a half to figure out that Hermione had a crush on him. Of course by the time he had figured it out, she had gotten over it and was going out with Dean. Then it had taken him another year and a half to figure out what his confusing interest in Harry had meant.

Indeed, he could be downright dense at times.

But the look in MalfoyÂ’s eyes, the adulation, and the intensity of his gaze was unmistakable.

And it had all been directed at Harry.

And Harry had held the bastardÂ’s handÂ…this was too much. Now the question was simple.

Had Harry seen it too?

***

Harry turned to Draco who was still staring down at his hand, which Harry had been holding only moments earlier.

"Malfoy," he said.

Draco looked up a glare washing over his previously stunned features as if a spell had just been broken.

"What?" he shot at the raven-haired boy.

"Why did you say it was me? Granted IÂ’m not surprised, considering youÂ’d do anything to get me in trouble, but still. Why did you say I was the one fighting?"

Draco stood silent for a moment a thoughtful look overcoming his cold features.

"Well," he ventured, "you deserved it didnÂ’t you? I mean it was your fault after all."

"My fault? What are you talking about? I wasnÂ’t the one who was flinging slugs at people. And IÂ’m not the one who attacked you, not that you didnÂ’t deserve it."

"Despite what your ever righteous Gryffindor groupies may have been telling you Potter, you donÂ’t get to decide what I do or do not deserve. And yes it was your fault. You should learn to control that pet Weasel of yours."

"Ron can do what he likes. I do not control him. He attacked you because you baited him. It has nothing to do with me."

"You just go on thinking that Potter."

Harry shook his head in confusion, "What the hell are you on about Malfoy. I donÂ’t get you."

"What I’m ‘on about’ is you got what you deserved. You should have stopped him!"

"Malfoy you arenÂ’t making any sense! Why should I have? You were asking for it."

"If you donÂ’t know already thenÂ…arrrgh! Just leave Potter. Get the fuck out of my dungeon now!" yelled Draco, his angry voice tinged with frustration.

Harry took a step back.

"ItÂ’s not your dungeon."

Draco looked at him coldly and leaned forward menacingly.

Harry took another step back scowling and turned to leave. Draco slumped against the moist dungeon wall and closed his eyes.

"And besides, I did stop him," he heard Harry mutter loudly as the GryffindorÂ’s steps echoed through the stair well.

"And that, Harry, is the last time youÂ’ll ever think that I donÂ’t matter," whispered Draco darkly to the empty dungeon corridor.

***

Hermione paced back and forth in the waiting room. She sat abruptly in one of the squishy vinyl cushioned chairs and just as abruptly jumped up again unable to keep still. She started to pace again wringing her hands. Too many thoughts ran through her mind translating to nervous energy in her restless feet.

‘Boys…’ she thought with a defeated sigh.

Ron and Harry were getting on her nerves. And Malfoy. There was a surprise. She could remember at the Welcoming Feast how shocked she had been when she glanced idly at the Slytherin table to find him sitting there, staring at Harry like he had been doing it his entire life. Granted he had done, since they started at Hogwarts, but not with that look in his eyes. Even if the whole Hall had burst into flames and the enchanted ceiling had turned to neon pink, Hermione was sure that boy would have been oblivious.

She wondered if it had something to do with the falling of the Lord Voldemort. Lucius Malfoy had once again miraculously evaded prosecution after the whole ordeal had ended, but nobody kidded themselves this time about his involvement with the Death Eaters. His far-reaching reputation had fallen along with Dark Lord. Hermione had wondered if maybe DracoÂ’s apparent change of heart was an attempt to get in good with those who had brought about the Death EatersÂ’ defeat, perhaps to benefit his fatherÂ’s reputation. It was just the twisted, manipulative sort of thing a Malfoy would do.

But as the year progressed sheÂ’d found that the young Malfoy was just as bitter and arrogant as ever. He put on the appearance of loathing towards Harry, but she knew better. He was hiding what he felt. She caught him looking. She had decided that perhaps Malfoy did indeed have some kind of feelings towards Harry, which did not involve extreme hatred and disgust. This of course presented a problem. Because of Ron.

Far be it for her to figure out Ron. He obviously loved Harry. As a friend and more. He had felt that way about her once too, so she knew what to look for. And she defiantly saw it written across his face when he stared into those captivating green eyes.

Hermione didnÂ’t blame him, or Draco. Harry was quite charming in a geeky innocent sort of way. She marveled at how he managed to keep all that innocence and good humor after all that he had been through, especially after last year. And those green eyes. She herself could barely resist them. No, she didnÂ’t blame either one of them at all for feeling that way about Harry.

But it still would be quite the scene when it came to head. Not to say that would happen any time soon. Harry was oblivious to it all. It was just the same old same with him. And the two infatuated boys were definitely not about to enlighten the boy hero. This was the source of HermioneÂ’s frustration. The situation would hang and sheÂ’d have to watch Ron be miserable and worry about what Malfoy might do while Harry went on being thick about it all.

And to top it off the NEWTS were coming up! Why should she be the only one to bear the burden of everyoneÂ’s secrets? She didnÂ’t have time for these games boys play. Why must she be the only mature one? Why must she be the only attentive one? Why must she be the only one with any sense? She groaned.

"Why meÂ…"

Madame Pomfrey walked in to the room nearly colliding with Hermione.

"Miss Granger, is something wrong? YouÂ’ll wear a whole in the rug the way youÂ’re carrying on."

Hermione smiled sheepishly at the school nurse, "IÂ’m sorry, I was just thinking about something."

"I see. Well what can I do for you then, Hermione?"

"I was just waiting for Neville. Is he feeling better?"

Neville walked through the door at that moment looking pale and tired.

He looked up and smiled seeing Hermione.

"Hi Hermione."

"Hello Neville. IÂ’ve got your homework for you. Would you like to go back to the common room? I donÂ’t have a class until after lunch. I could go over it with you if youÂ’d like."

"Thanks. That would be great," he replied in a tired voice.

"Remember to come see me whenever you need to," called out Madame Pomfrey as the two students walked out of the hospital wing.

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the portrait hole into the common room. Hermione sat down at the couch and took out her potions work. Neville came and sat next to her and gazed into the blazing fire in the fireplace.

Hermione stopped her rummaging and turned to look at Neville. He seemed very worn out. His cheeks looked bloodless and pasty. Dark circles underscored his sunken eyes, like bruised crescent moons. And heÂ’d lost quite a bit of weight.

Why was it that sheÂ’d never noticed this about him until now?

"Neville, my God, whatÂ’s wrong?" she asked, the concern evident in her voice.

Neville turned from the fire to give her a small smile.

"I just havenÂ’t been feeling well lately."

‘No kidding,’ thought Hermione, ‘he looks like he’s been hanging out with a bunch of dementors.’

"Well is there anything I can do? Is it some kind of flu? There has been that bug going around. Though something tells me this is something more, hmm?

"I appreciate you asking Hermione, but itÂ’s nothing really. Madame Pomfrey couldnÂ’t find anything wrong. ItÂ’s probably just stress. I guess I donÂ’t deal very well," he smiled sheepishly.

"Well, yes. The NEWTS are coming up in a few months. I think weÂ’re all feeling a bit of that arenÂ’t we?"

Neville nodded.

"But Neville, if there were something, youÂ’d tell me right? IÂ’m your friend and IÂ’ll do anything I can to help. And IÂ’d be happy to help you with your preparation for the NEWTS if youÂ’re worried about that."

"Yes I know. Thanks Hermione. IÂ’ll be fine though," he sighed.

"All right then. Shall we get busy? Oh, I was supposed to tell you…Snape gave you a detention for missing class. He said to come to the dungeons this evening to make up the assignment and do the detention. I tried to explain to him but—."

"ItÂ’s all right Hermione. I know what SnapeÂ’s like."

"Yes, well perhaps if you get a note from Madame Pomfrey to get out of the detention."

"I doubt it will do any good, but IÂ’ll get it before I go tonight."

"Good. Now the main uses of Nightshade in potions areÂ…"

Neville watched the girl as she spewed her wealth of knowledge to him. He could not concentrate enough to actually listen to what she was saying; he hadnÂ’t gotten much sleep last night. Or the night before. Or the night before that. Madame Pomfrey gave him sleeping potions from time to time, but most nights he didnÂ’t bother to see her. He was paying for it now with the constant exhaustion he felt during his waking hours. He could not figure out why exactly he was doing this to himself, for it was on purpose. The root cause, he suspected, had something to do with VoldemortÂ’s defeat a year ago at the hands of Harry Potter.

After the whole episode he had felt himself sinking into some kind of latent misery, and he didnÂ’t know why. He should have been happy. The Dark Lord had been defeated, for all that meant to him. His parents were still locked away in that terrible hospital, still unable to recognize their own son through the haze of insanity that clouded their minds. He was still quite alone. He still felt quite pathetic. Things had not gotten better and somehow it felt, now, as if they had even gotten worse. He felt guilt welling up in him for not being happy how he ought to be.

Something was definitely wrong with him; he was defective or sick. Or maybe he was going insane. Like his parents. As much as heÂ’d try to tell himself that these feelings were a temporary thing, a byproduct of the stress of the recent influx of work or some passing illness, he knew that this problem was not about to leave him any time soon. It didnÂ’t matter much anyway. Nobody noticed or cared. Except maybe Hermione.

She had asked him about the changes. Maybe he could talk to her about it. Or maybe sheÂ’d laugh. At any rate she most probably wouldnÂ’t be able to relate and would only pity him. He didnÂ’t want pity. He wanted someone to understand. Besides she looked so happy in her element. It would be a shame to interrupt her with something like this. He sighed and picked up his quill settling into the potions work.