Surviving Disgrace

Chapter 1: The Boy Who Betrayed

A man may survive distress, but not disgrace.
-Proverb

"Harry, wake up!"

Harry Potter sat straight up in bed, his unruly black hair sticking out at different angles. He reached over to his bedside table for his glasses so he could see clearly the blurry object that was shaking him.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked.

Hermione Granger glanced nervously over her shoulder. "We have to leave."

Harry sighed deeply and tossed the blankets off of him. He looked around his small bedroom with fondness. He had really liked this place and had begun to feel like home. Their contact had found the colonia by pure chance. He had said it was secluded and big enough that four people could live with complete privacy. Harry had surmised that the colonia had to have belonged to some drug lord, but Hermione had told him he was being daft and that it was in fact a wizard home. After all, why would every room need a fireplace if it wasn't a wizard house, she had told him.

The colonia sat close to the Pacific Ocean on the Baja Peninsula, on a small stretch on sand. The house was made of whitewashed stone, the doorways and windows highlighted with the red brick that typified a Mexican home. It was built to keep the warmth out and the cool in.

It had four spacious bedrooms, each one facing the beach, the architecture of the colonia designed specifically to offer these views. A large kitchen with it's stone floors and wooden counters had reminded him of the kitchen at the Burrow and he was shocked by the number of times he entered there and was disappointed that Mrs. Weasley was not at the stove cooking.

The living area of the home was large and had been divided up with the use of furniture. One complete wall was filled to the ceiling with books and two desks facing opposite each other kept what they called, "The Study" separate from the rest of the room. A semicircle of sofas and chairs encased the small fireplace, reminiscent of the Gryffindor common room.

His bedroom was small but airy, with three windows that faced out to the ocean. He had left them open when he fell asleep, letting the salty air waft into the room. The floor was made of stone like the other rooms, and felt cool to the touch. The walls were all stone, like the rest of the house and were painted a soft taupe colour. Harry had even started to decorate the room a bit, in hopes that if he had placed his things about the room, he would never have to leave. The wooden desk that sat beneath the windows had a neat stack of parchment, quills and ink wells. A few old texts lay on the desk as well, dog-eared from the many times her had flipped through them over the past year.

A chest of draws with a mirror hanging above it was against the opposite wall covered in the tiny mementos he had of his past life. Framed photos took up most of the room; his parents and himself when he was a baby; Ron, Hermione and himself in second year at Hogwarts Hagrid and Harry by the lake; Ron, Seamus, Neville, Dean and himself, his roommates at school; and Harry in the middle of the entire Weasley clan, the only real family he ever had. Harry felt a sharp pang every time he looked at the pictures but he kept them out just the same: punishment for his mistakes.

The sheets on his small bed were tangled, testament to the horrible night's sleep he had. Now he would have no time to rest. He had to get ready. They were on the run again.

***

Ron Weasley stood in the kitchen of the colonia, packing up the food that was in the cupboards and the refrigerator. His girlfriend, Hermione Granger, took a second to pause and look at him. He looked quite comical as he stuffed an entire baguette into a small paper sack, followed by a bags of apples and six cans of soup. He had performed a Never-ending spell on the bag, allowing them to carry a great many things in one small bag.

Hermione sighed deeply as she slide her gaze over Ron. He had let his hair grow out since their days at Hogwarts. It brushed against his shoulder and reminded Hermione of what Charlie looked like the last time she had seen him. Ron had grown a great deal since their childhood days at school. He was quite a handsome man now, she thought, smiling.

"What are you smiling about?" Ron asked. Hermione didn't know that Ron had been aware of her presence. He still had his back to her as he rooted through the food.

She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "You," she replied.

He smiled and put his hands over hers. "Did you wake Harry?" She nodded against his back.

"Was he upset?" She nodded again.

"This is hard on him. He's tearing himself up inside because he thinks it's his fault," Ron told her what she already knew.

"I know. No matter how many times we tell him we made the choice on our own, he doesn't accept it. I think he is a masochist," Hermione replied. Ron laughed out loud. He turned around so that he could look into Hermione's eyes.

"How would you know?" he teased.

"I could teach you some of the things Harry's taught me later, if you'd like," she replied, a twinkle in her eye.

"Can we save the S&M until after we leave?" Both turned to see Ginny Weasley standing in the doorway of the kitchen, her trunk seated at her feet.

"Sorry Gin." Ginny rolled her eyes. After a year of living with them, she was used to it.

"I owled mum," she said, pulling her trunk toward the old fireplace in the kitchen.

The four of them had kept in contact with the elder Weasley's, who had fled from Britain after Arthur's resignation. They had travelled to Romania, to stay with Bill. Harry had given Mr. Weasley the key to his Gringotts vault before they disappeared that June night. He had asked Mr. Weasley to use his money in payment for the fact that Mr. Weasley would now have to resign his position. Arthur refused, but Harry insisted, asking that he also owl money to them where ever they may be as well. It was thanks to Harry's inheritance that they were able to afford to live comfortably wherever they ran.

"So, what's happened?" Harry asked gravely. The other three turned to see Harry standing in the doorway. He had been looking much better in the last few months. After their flight from Britain, he had lost weight rapidly and become pale and sickly. Worry and stress had taken it's toll on his young body and he was finally getting some colour in his cheeks and meat on his bones. He was looking more like his father everyday.

"They've printed our pictures again," Ginny replied, tossing him the copy of the Daily Prophet that had been laying on the kitchen table.

"Damn it," Harry cursed under his breath, as he took in their grim photos on the front page. It was easy to forget in their solitude that they were some of the most wanted wizards in the world.

They had travelled many places during the first four months after the attack on Hogwarts. They were never able to stay somewhere too long before the Ministry goons were on their trail. They were constantly packing the small amount they could carry with themselves and leaving town. They would spend time in unpopulated areas, waiting for the excitement to die down. They would rent small homes from Muggles in the same unpopulated areas in hopes of not attracting too much attention. They had been safe these past six months at the colonia, with people's concern shifting to the increase in Voldemort's attacks on the world.

Harry took the paper with him as he returned to his room to start packing his things. He sat on his old trunk that was at the end of his bed. He read over the profiles and the events of the night that had changed the course of many peoples lives.

Evil. Turncoat. Death Eater.

Those words haunted his days and nights. He couldn't understand how so many people who believed in him could turn on him in an instant. Even Dumbledore. The one man who Harry trusted more than anyone in the world had betrayed him. Three people had remained with him that night and because of him their lives had been ruined.

The anger always came first when he began to sink into his depressions. This time was no different. He stood up and began to pace the room quickly.

No one will believe you, Potter.

You have become the one thing you have feared since the day we met.

You are no better than me, Potter.

You can't save them, Potter, they trusted you, and you let them down.

How typical, your father was the same way.

"NO!"

Harry kicked out violently at his truck, scribed with the initials H.J.P. The pain seared up his leg and he welcomed it. He turned around wildly and through vision blurred with tears he saw the pictures on his chest of drawers. Hagrid, Seamus, Neville, Dean, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Mum, Dad. He couldn't save them, now or then. He dashed the photographs onto the floor, the frames and glass cracking on the stone floor. He saw his reflection in the mirror and paused. His hair was wild, his glasses askew on his nose while tears streamed down his cheeks and standing out most of all was the red lightening bolt scar on his forehead. My mark, he thought, the source of the pain in my life.

Without a second thought, Harry pulled back his fist and slammed it into his scar.

***

"Is that everything?" Hermione asked the other two as she took a last look under the sofa for any of Crookshanks stray toys.

"I think so," Ginny said as she came out of her bedroom, "All that is left is the furniture."

The furniture had been there when they had moved in. The colonia was used as a safe house for those who needed to hide out from various people, much like they were. They had discovered that every piece of furniture was transfigured from rubbish. The original sofas were torn and tattered, with springs poking out of them but with a simple transfiguring spell, they were good as new.

"Everything is in the kitchen," Ron called out to them, "We just need Harry's things."

Ron headed down the hallway to Harry's bedroom and raised his hand to knock on the door when the sound of glass smashing broke the air. Ron threw open the door and saw Harry standing in front of his mirror. The mirror was a spider web of cracks, shards scattered over the chest of drawers caught the sunlight that streamed through the window.

"Harry?"

Harry turned towards Ron. "I'm no better than him."

Ron felt the presence of Hermione and Ginny standing behind him. They must have heard the crash, Ron thought in the back of his mind.

"Harry, you're bleeding," Hermione exclaimed, pointing at his hand. Harry looked down to see ribbons of blood flowing over his right hand with disinterest.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

"Harry, there's nothing to be sorry about. You don't have to apologize for every little thing that goes wrong," Hermione said with patience. She knew he wasn't just apologizing for the mirror but for everything that had happened in the past year. It was a familiar conversation with all of them.

"Ginny, please will you heal Harry's wounds in the kitchen, Hermione and I will pack Harry's things up," Ron instructed. Since they had escaped from Hogwarts, Ron had taken on a more aggressive role in their lives. Harry sat on the edge of depression so often, that Ron felt that if he didn't start picking up the leadership skills he saw Harry use throughout their childhood, everyone would fall apart.

Ginny lead Harry out of the room, while Hermione and Ron set to work on cleaning up the mess.

Hermione knelt down and picked up the photos that were scattered on the floor. "Ron, what happened to the old Harry?"

"I think he's dead, killed by betrayal," Ron said, opening Harry's trunk. The invisibility cloak they had used so many times sat on the top of his things. They had gotten in and out of trouble so many times with the aid of the cloak. He moved it aside and saw that Harry had put all of his keepsake items in the bottom. The flute Hagrid carved for him, his collection of Wizard Trading Cards, the Sneak-a-scope he had given him, his ticket from the World Cup, the clipping from the Daily Prophet announcing his contention in the Triwizard Tournament, his diplomas from his OWLs and NEWTs.

Beneath all of these memories, an old robe was buried at the bottom. Ron lifted it halfway out and saw that it was Harry's robe from first year, the Hogwarts seal slightly faded. He's quite the sentimental, Ron thought, probably comes from having little from his parents to remember them by. He went to put the cloak back inside when a flash of colour caught his eye. Ron moved the cloak aside to see that hidden beneath it was a beautiful jeweled sword.

"Hermione, look at this," he whispered.

She came over and let out an audible gasp. "I know what that is. That's Godric Gryffindor's sword."

"What is Harry doing with it?"

"I don't know. He used it once in the Chamber of Secrets, but I thought Dumbledore had taken it back after."

"He did," Ron told her, "I remember seeing it in his office when we went there after seventh year. How did Harry end up with it? Should we ask him?"

"I don't know but let's not ask him now. After we find a new place."

Ron agreed and the two went back to packing up Harry's things. The thought of the sword still nibbled at their brain. Their thoughts were both running the same confusing course. Why does Harry have it and how did he get it?

***

"You'll have to be careful with your hand, the new skin is still fragile. If you tear it, you'll end up with a scar."

Harry winced noticeably at the mention of the word 'scar'. "So, do you want to tell me what that was about?"

Harry looked up into Ginny's brown eyes. He saw love for him reflected in her eyes, not the romantic love she used to have for him, but a brotherly love that had taken it's place. Her crush on him had ended during her final year at Hogwarts. Her year away from him had shown her that her childhood crush would never be more than that. Harry was a brother to her, not someone she could be romantically linked with. That link had taken her to join Harry's fight against Voldemort after her seventh year and follow him even beyond the war.

"It was nothing. I was just upset. I really liked this place," Harry explained, trying to shrug off his outburst.

"Harry, you've changed. What happened to the brave Gryffindor who came down to the Chamber of Secrets to rescue me? The boy who never gave up? The boy who would sacrifice himself for others?" Ginny asked him, "Harry, I idolised you. Everyone did. People saw the courage and determination you had and they wanted that. People followed you without question to the ends of the earth and not because you were the Boy Who Lived, but because of your heart."

Harry's eyes slitted as he looked at Ginny. "I'm sorry to disappoint you Ginny, but I didn't ask to be everyone's hero. I would have been happy to have lived a normal life; a life without death and destruction would have been fine for me. I don't want to be anyone's idol and I am sorry if I don't live up to your expectations." Harry jumped up and began to walk away but he turned at the kitchen doorway.

"You know what? To hell with it. I don't have to be anything for you. Hermione and Ron treat you so carefully because of you are the sweet and innocent little sister. Well, to hell with your naivete and your innocence and to hell with you."

"Stop right there Potter!" Ginny yelled, marching up to him and poking him in the chest, "You think I'm the one that Ron and Hermione baby. You are dilusional if you think that. They handle you with kid gloves, thinking that if they do or say the wrong thing, you will break into a million pieces. I've got news for you Potter, I'm sick and tired of having to watch myself. I want to get the hell out of here and go home but no one will talk about it! They are afraid that if we talk about what happened you will sulk off and throw yourself over a cliff in some sort of dramatic statement to the pain in your life. Here's news for you Potter, to hell with you. Yes, people died and I mourn them but you think that it is the first time it has happened?"

"But I killed them!" Harry yelled back at her.

"We all did. We are all to blame. For Merlin's sake Harry, quit putting all the blame on yourself. It's some sort of complex with you isn't it? Here's a bit of news for you Harry, the world does not revolve around you. We are all guilty and we are all in pain, but you don't see us moping about like you do. You don't want me to idolise you Harry? Well, I wouldn't worry too much about it because I stopped idolising you when you became a whining childish baby who spends his time sulking and contemplating suicide. A coward in no uncertain terms," Ginny spat at him. She was breathing hard and her heart was beating against her ribs as hard as a Bludger. She had been waiting a year to say these things yet she couldn't believe they were pouring out of her mouth, "If you are going to kill yourself, would you go ahead and do it because I'm getting bloody tired of waiting!"

Ginny's hands clamped over her mouth. She hadn't meant to say that and the look on Harry's face still her heart. It seemed as if his face had shattered like the mirror in his bedroom. The fire that the argument had sparked in his eyes died and they turned dark. It was almost as if she could hear the walls that he kept around his emotions blow away like sand.

"Is that what you want me to do?" he asked pitifully.

"Oh Harry, of course not, I love you," she whispered, "But watching you like this is tearing me up inside. I didn't know how else to reach you. We've tried everything but yelling at you to get you to understand how upset you are making us. We want the old Harry back."

"He's gone," Harry told her in a deadpan voice.

"No he's not. If he was gone, the pictures of him wouldn't be in your room," she told him, a small smile on her lips.

"Do you really want to go home?" he asked instead of answering her question.

"Yes," she said, looking at the floor, "I miss my family and my friends. I miss what used to be."

"You know that if we were to return home, things wouldn't be as they were before," Harry told her.

"I know," she sighed, "But we could change that. You know we could. We just never bothered to try and instead we ran."

"We tried Ginny," Harry said, "I went to Dumbledore and he refused, you know that."

"Harry, when was the last time you relied on Dumbledore to save us? You never have, and I thought you never would. Things don't end because Albus Dumbledore can't do anything about it," Ginny said.

"If Hagrid was here, he would be angry with you for insulting Dumbledore like that," Harry smiled, his first in a long time.

Ginny giggled. "Good thing he's not here, I wouldn't want that pink brolly of his waving around at me."

"I remember when he used it to give my cousin Dudley a pig's tail," he snickered, "It was the first time I met him."

"And I remember on my birthday during my last year when I was sad that all of you weren't there to celebrate with me, he turned Fang pink to cheer me up," she laughed loudly, thinking of the boarhound.

The two of them laughed together and before either of them could stop it, they started crying together. Crying for the lost Hagrid. Crying for the fallen family and friends. Crying for their own lost lives.

Harry rested his dark head on Ginny's flamed-haired one as the tears rolled silently down his cheeks. It had been a long time since he had cried in the company of others and it felt good to let his emotions reign free. He felt Ginny's tears soak his shirt as he pulled her into a fierce hug. They rocked against each other until their tears subsided.

"I'm sorry," whispered Ginny against the front of his shirt.

"I'm sorry too," Harry whispered back, disturbing her hair with his breath.

"Am I interrupting something?"

The two turned to see the face of Sirius Black floating in the flames of the fireplace.

"Hallo Sirius"

"Hallo Harry. Ginny."

"Have you found a place for us to go, Sirius?"

"As a matter of fact I have," Sirius replied. He appeared to be shuffling through papers, looking for something.

Aside from the Weasley's, Sirius was their only other contact to the world they had left behind. An expert at hiding, thanks to the years that he had spent on the run, he had been helping them find safe houses to stay in.

"The new place is in America. Northern Michigan. A small hotel that you can stay at for a while. They are used to having people stay for long periods of time. Apparently it is some sort of Muggle tourist place. Bed and breakfast is what I think they call it. Anyway, you can rent out small cottages for the summer time and stay there. We've rented you one for the rest of the summer. After that we will find you a new place to go to."

"Sounds wonderful Sirius, thank you so much," Ginny said, "I'll go tell Hermione and Ron."

She left the room giving Harry a pat on the shoulder and time to talk to his godfather in private.

"All right there Harry?"

"All right."

"You don't look it," Sirius said, the concern in his voice thick.

"I'll be all right. Just not a good day," Harry replied, not meeting Sirius' eyes.

"If you say so Harry. Care to tell me where the blood came from?" he said, gesturing towards the towel that lay on the kitchen table. The dark red of his blood stood out against the pearly white of the terrycloth.

"I cut myself shaving."

"Shaving what? Your nose off?"

Harry let out an exasperated sigh. "I was moving a mirror and it fell on top of my hand and broke. Gin healed it up right quick, no need to worry."

"Fine," Sirius said, knowing that Harry was not revealing the whole truth but he wouldn't press him. He had learned from early on that the harder he pressed Harry, the more he would clam up.

"Are we ready to go?" Hermione asked as she came into the room with Ginny and Ron, Harry's things levitating behind them.

"You will be Apparating to a deserted shack just a little piece away from the hotel. There will be a car waiting for you there. The car is enchanted and will drive itself to the place. You will check in at the front desk in the main building under these names," Sirius handed a piece of paper to Hermione, who took it from him with the fire prongs.

"I have to go now, but owl me when you get there," Sirius said, nodding to someone behind him in the flames, "Good luck."

"Everyone ready?" Ron asked. They performed shrinking charms on their possessions so that they would fit into the palm of their hands. There was no need to get splinched because of interference with a large trunk. Hermione held Crookshanks in her arms firmly, knowing that he hated Apparating.

"What is this place called that we are going to Ron?" Ginny asked.

"The Wolf and Moon Bed and Breakfast," he read from the paper that Sirius handed him, "Creepy name."

"Oh, let's get on with it," Hermione said, as Crookshanks dug his claws deeper into her arms.

"Fine!" Ron cried and he Disapparated with a pop. Three more pops followed along with the screech of a very upset cat.

***

"Not quite like the Ford Anglia, eh Harry?"

Harry had a rare grin for his friend who was seated in the driver's seat of the SUV that Sirius had left for them. It fit all of them, plus their un-shrunk trunks quite comfortably. They rolled along the road and soon the vehicle took a right turn onto a dirt road that was carved out in the middle of dense wood.

"Must be the place," Harry commented as they all gazed fervently out of the windows to catch a glimpse of their new home. All of a sudden the trees split and their new home was before them. The road wound around a big lawn, past a crystal blue lake and in front of a large house.

The house was a white clapboard home, with many windows and a wrap around porch in the front. Two rocking chairs and a large swing sat on the porch, currently unoccupied. A small dock was down the front path and it jutted out into the water. A few canoes and a small boat were tethered to the dock. The car followed the road and came to a stop in front of the large house. A sign in front of it proclaimed it to be the "Wolf and Moon Bed and Breakfast and Summer Resort".

The area was surrounded by woods and nestled among the trees were small cottages. They blended in with the vegetation, only one floor with small porches and two big front windows that resembled eyes staring back at them. Some of the cottages had occupants, as a few children flew out the door of one cottage. They were dressed in swimsuits and and ran towards the beach.

"This place looks wonderful," Ginny breathed from the backseat.

"Well, let's check in," Harry said and they all climbed out of the SUV and up the steps of the large house.

The front hall of the house was decorated with the forest setting in mind. Paintings of the lake and of the woods were placed here and there on the walls. The furniture was all old oak, the small tables that held fresh vases of wildflowers looked as if they could stand any test that time handed them. A small desk stood to the one side, with a computer and a telephone sitting on top.

They walked over to the desk and Hermione rang the small bell that was next to the registry.

"This is a lovely place," she said, taking in the surroundings. The others nodded in agreement.

A young girl came from the front parlor holding a dust rag in her hand. She was tall, with long light brown hair and a friendly smile. "Hello, my name is Ria, how can I help you?" she said pleasantly and took her place behind the desk.

"We want to check in. We reserved a cottage for the summer. My name is Sandra Perkins," Hermione said, using the names that Sirius had given them.

"This is my husband Brian Perkins, his sister Ally and her boyfriend Eric Harris," she informed Ria, introducing the others.

"Ah, Perkins," she said, clicking away on the keyboard, "Right here. You will be staying in number four. That is one of my favourites. It has a beautiful view of the sunset from the front windows."

She reached under the desk and came up with the keys. "I'll have someone help you with your things. Just a moment."

"That's not necessary," Harry said, trying to stop her. How were they to explain if one of the trunks should pop open and their cloaks or spell books fell out?

"Mr. Harris, quality service is of the utmost importance at Wolf Moon. My brother can help you with your bags. Drake, come here please," she called into the door to the right of the desk, "He's just in the kitchen fixing a leaky pipe."

The door to the kitchen opened and a man came through. Ginny thought he looked vaguely familiar but for Harry, Ron and Hermione there was no doubt in their mind who it was. No one could forget a boy like him. No one ever forgot their childhood bully.

"Malfoy!"

The blond head shot up. "Potter!"