Sorrow and Solace

Chapter 3

Harry stormed back to the Common Room, too angry to feel his sadness.

Stupid, arrogant git! Malfoy thinks he's so smart. What new game is he playing? I'm sure he doesn't care a Knut if I'm alive or dead! Why would he? And what about that garbage about wizard suicide? I'd bet anything he made that up...But why would he care if I killed myself or not?

He walked up to the Fat Lady, said "Scampering Squirrels," and entered. The room was empty except for Hermione, studying of course. Without really thinking, Harry sat down across from her and asked:

"Is there some reason why wizards can't kill themselves?"

She bushy-haired girl started and blinked several times in surprise.

"From what I've read, it's not traditionally done. Why do you ask?"

"Malfoy just told me so and I wanted to know if he was pulling my leg."

Hermione blinked again, but otherwise showed no reaction to the unusual turn of conversation.

"No, for once he was actually telling the truth. But why were you and Malfoy discussing suicide?"

Harry paused. He hadn't intended to tell his friends about his desire to kill himself, but he couldn't think of a really plausible reply to Hermione's question. She was staring at him expectantly; it was too late to bluff his way out. Besides, he had always hated lying to his friends.

"Well, it's..." Harry trailed off, trying to think of a delicate way to tell Hermione about the bizarre events of the night. He couldn't think of one. He was too drained to be tactful, so he said it bluntly.

"Because I tried to kill myself."

Hermione gave a horrified squeak. "What!?! Harry, why on earth...?"

"Because I don't want to live anymore!" Harry's anger flared back to life. Why was what he did with his life suddenly everyone's business? "I can't stand by and watch while Voldemort destroys the people I love. He wants me dead, so I'll give him what he wants. What would be so terrible if I died?"

"Harry..."

"Just tell me!"

"But..."

"Now!"

Hermione squirmed in her chair and looked away. Her generally calm composure was replaced by clear distress. She was fidgeting with her hands as she spoke, still not looking at Harry.

"Um...well...if, if you were, you know, d-dead...well, V-Voldemort would win. He would take over, and...I don't know, Harry why are you asking me?"

"Would you be better off if I was dead?"

"Harry!"

"Answer me!"

"Of course not!"

"Why the hell won't you answer me?"

"That was my answer! I would not be better off if you were dead! I would be sad and lonely and lost and miserable and...oh Harry, how could you even think such a thing?" Her lower lip was beginning to quiver and she was blinking back tears. Harry felt guilty for making her cry, but he was insistent. Hermione was not one to sugar-coat reality; if anyone would give him the truth, it was her. So he asked again.

"Are you sure, Hermione? Voldemort is killing off the people closest to me. That puts you and Ron in incredible danger. Wouldn't it be better if I were dead? He wouldn't have a reason to kill you."

"I would be in danger from V-V-Voldemort whether I was your friend or not. First of all, I'm Muggle-born; second of all, I hate everything he stands for. Same goes for Ron. We don't support him and we never will. We need you to help us, Harry. Besides, you are so much more than just a powerful wizard. You are a kind, loving, good-hearted person. You were the first one at Hogwarts to accept me as a friend. That means so much to me, and your friendship is one of the best things I've gotten out of becoming a witch. And Ron...well, he can be foolish sometimes but he would do anything for you. You have been his closest companion from our first year and he wouldn't trade your friendship for all the money and fame and power in the world. Harry, if you were gone, we would probably feel the same way you do now about Sirius."

"Really? You think so?"

"I do. Harry, please promise me you won't do anything to intentionally hurt yourself. Please?" She reached out her hands to him over the table. Harry unthinkingly mimicked the gesture and clasped them in his own. She had such tiny hands; Harry had never looked at them closely before. Her fingers were long and slim with bitten-down nails. Harry raised his glance to her face. Her brown eyes were wide and pleading. She was truly, deeply concerned about him. In her expression Harry saw genuine caring, sympathy, and love. The sincerity of her expression and her words soothed his anger and calmed him.

"Alright, I promise."

"Thank you, Harry. I never realized that you felt so badly. I mean, I knew you were unhappy, but I just had no idea..." She was blinking rapidly, but a few tears escaped down her cheek. Harry's protective instincts kicked in and he walked around the table to embrace her. She returned his hug and her voice was muffled against his chest.

"Harry, if there's ever anything I can do to help you, you know I'll do it! Don't ever forget that! If you ever feel like you might try this again, you've got to come talk to me. I'll help get you through this." She pulled back suddenly and frowned. "Wait, when did Malfoy come into the picture?"

Harry sighed. He had almost forgotten his encounter with the Slytherin.

"He saved me when I tried to jump off the tower. He had been out flying."

"And he caught you?"

"Yeah. I was a wreck and I sort of told him that I wanted to kill myself, and then he went on this self-righteous tirade about how wizards never kill themselves."

She quirked her head to one side and absorbed what Harry had said.

"Well, I never thought the day would come when I would be grateful to a Malfoy, but I would bow down and kiss his feet right now if he asked me to. I'm just glad someone was there."

Harry snorted in disgust. "I still can't believe it. After all these years of hating each other he's the one who rescues me. I mean, I suppose I'm glad he caught me, but why him of all people?"

"It is a bit ironic..."

"He's always been trying to get in my way! He likes antagonizing me! Ugh, he'll probably be shouting it all around school tomorrow that I jumped off the tower. He'll use this against me, I just know it." He shook his head and yawned.

"You can worry about that in the morning," said Hermione, closing her book. "Right now, you should go to bed. I'll bet you haven't slept well recently. Go on upstairs and try to just clear your mind of everything, just like in the Occlumency you were learning last year. Trust me, you'll feel better in the morning. And Malfoy...well, we can deal with anything he tries to dish out."

Harry nodded and yawned again.

"I am a bit tired," he said. Hermione gave him a small smile and suddenly wrapped him up in a tight hug.

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Hermione."

Feeling much older than his sixteen years, Harry turned and climbed the stairs to the Boy's Dormitory. When he opened the door, Ron was still sitting up in bed, reading Quidditch Through the Ages by the light of his wand. He looked up and smiled as Harry entered.

"Hey," he whispered, keeping his voice low so as not to wake the other boys. "Are you alright? You went out without the Invisibility Cloak and we got a bit worried. We thought Filch might have caught you."

"No, I didn't even see Filch." Harry evaded Ron's question as he walked towards his trunk to fish for a pair of pajamas.

"Are you sure you feel well?" Ron pressed. "You look really tired."

"I feel tired," Harry replied truthfully.

Ron was silent for a moment.

"Don't forget to take the dreamless sleep potion. That should help, and you'll feel better in the morning." Harry nodded silently in response. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Ron's face was thoughtful.

"Well...good night, then, Harry."

"'Night Ron."

Harry crawled into bed and drew the curtains behind him. He heard Ron mutter "Nox" and the room went black. Harry sighed as he let the darkness wash over him. The evening had been a terrible emotional thrill ride, and now he felt utterly spent. He did feel somewhat reassured after talking to Hermione. And even though Ron hadn't been as vocal, his silence had spoken clearly. His friends were worried about him. And if they worried, that meant that they cared about him, that Harry was not just a faceless weapon against Voldemort. It was a comforting feeling for Harry, to know that he was loved. He thought back to some of his happier memories from his early years at Hogwarts; most of them revolved around time he spent with Ron and Hermione. I have to be strong for them. I need them as much as they need me. At that moment, the enormity of what he had almost done finally sank in. I almost wasn't here. If Malfoy hadn't been out flying, I would be dead. I would be dead right now. I wouldn't have talked to Hermione or said good-night to Ron. My god, I would have died without saying good-bye to the two most important people in my life! Harry shuddered at the realization. He took a deep breath and slowly, shakily, he exhaled. Wow. I'm so lucky. I'm getting a second chance. Not even second, my second chance was when I was only a year old! I've had so many brushes with death...it almost seems like I've forgotten how...final...it is. I don't think I could even try to kill myself again, not after what Hermione said. I just can't believe I could be dead now! And I owe it all to Malfoy... Harry sighed again as his thoughts drifted back to the sneering Malfoy. The most confusing part of the evening was that Malfoy's usual sneering self was not out in full force. He had seemed almost concerned about Harry; concerned in a morbidly curious way, but concerned nonetheless.

Harry rolled onto his side and tried to push Malfoy out of his thoughts and focus on Hermione's words. He was loved. He had friends. He would survive this war.

But then the words of the prophecy came back to him. Harry growled in frustration and reached through the curtains for the dreamless sleep potion on his bedside table. He gulped down a dose and lay back down, hoping that sleep would come soon to take away his fears, even for just a few hours.