Take Me Away

Chapter Three

Crawling in my skin

These wounds that will not heal

Fear is how I fall

Confusing what is real

~Linkin Park--Crawling

Rolling hills, blue skies, and picturesque countryside slipped by outside of the window at an alarming rate. The sun beat down with a heat that made it hard to believe that, just a few days ago, it had been cloudy, drizzly, and all around miserable weather-wise in London.

Harry leaned his head against the glass and gazed out at the rushing scenery, deep green eyes unseeing and glittering with a strange, tormented light. His reflection shone back at him, matching him exhausted stare for exhausted stare with eyes that watched him reproachfully from behind the badly repaired glasses.

He was with Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna, and Ginny once more but all was quiet. They seemed to realize that he didn't want to talk. The Dursleys had dropped him off at King's Cross with a sneer and a mocking goodbye. Good riddance, Harry thought savagely. I'll be glad when I never have to see them again.

"Hogwarts," he muttered under his breath. "Hogwarts." The name seemed like relief to him, a place where he could hide in the rooms, escape silently down the halls, and sit on the roof, all alone, without anyone being so damn cheerful and forcedly happy, without anyone trying to force him to be happy. However, he would have to be around them sometime...damn cheerful people. This year was going to be hell.

Is it too much to ask to be allowed to wallow in self-pity? Harry laughed scathingly to himself at the irrational thought. He turned his attention back to his reflection. His face was emotionless, would have been utterly blank, if it hadn't been for his eyes. His damn eyes that always betrayed whatever he was feeling. And right now, Harry saw in them the same guilt and self-loathing in them that he had seen all summer, ever since Lord Voldemort had malevolently taken away the one person who had been a parent to him, ever since he had been told by Dumbledore his fate.

"Blood on my hands," he whispered to himself, dazed and staring at his hands. The others started but hesitantly went back to their business. Only Luna did not pause in her perusal of The Quibbler. Harry imagined the crimson stains of blood washing over his long fingers, drying underneath the ragged edges of his fingernails, dripping on the floor, onto himself...their blood is on my hands. The blood of Sirius, the blood of Cedric, the blood of his parents, of all the Muggles that Voldemort had killed for fun, and of the Parkinsons.

It was because of his blood that Voldemort had risen once more to wreck havoc in the world, Muggle and Magic. It was because of his blood that dozens of Muggles had been killed, with no possible explanation that could be given to their grieving families and friends. It was because of his blood that a girl, a girl that he had never gotten along with in the first place, a girl that he went out of his way to avoid, had lost her family and her home. She had lost her life, as she had known it. All because of his blood.

Blood. Ironic, really, that blood was considered their life force. His blood, his life force, had caused the destruction of so many.

It all came down to his blood. Without it, Voldemort would not, perhaps, have risen like that, right then. Maybe other people could have lived. It all came down to his blood. Which, basically, meant that it all came down to him.

The way he saw it, he was a murderer already. And he hadn't even killed the one person who he was destined to kill.

*~*~*

Pansy fluttered her eyes and moaned as she regained consciousness. Her face felt tight and her eyes hurt, as if she had been rubbing them. Her pillow was damp and her brown hair tangled. The last thing she remembered was a searing pain in her heart, a tightness in her chest, and collapsing onto her bed, crying herself to sleep. God, if the other Slytherins could see me now, Pansy snorted to herself. They'd think I was a riot, crying all over myself like a baby. Well, I won't anymore. I'm sick and tired of crying myself to sleep, sick and tired of hurting and regretting things that I should have done but didn't and things that I shouldn't have done but did. I'm sick of it all and I'm sick of this. I said last night that I wanted to die and maybe I will. Maybe this grief will kill me. But even if it doesn't, I won't cry. I won't. I won't, I won't, I WON'T!!!

"Miss Parkinson," a sharp voice broke into her raving thoughts and Pansy wiped all expression from her face and turned to face Madam Pomfrey who was staring at her suspiciously.

"Madam," Pansy returned derisively, nodding her head regally, like, she realized with a small pang in the remains of her tattered heart, her mother used to do when she addressed the house elves. Will I never be rid of these memories, she wondered briefly, sneering.

"You are to return to your dormitory," Madam Pomfrey said stiffly. She sniffed with disdain. "The Headmaster and Professor Snape think that you should be fine enough to attend the start of term feast." Her unspoken message was clear: Feasts are dangerous, especially for people in your condition and, if you're smart, you'll stay in your dormitory until I say you're fine.

"Yes, Madam," Pansy murmured and Pomfrey departed, leaving Pansy to get change and walk up to the Slytherin Common Room. She shuddered at the thought of the feast. After all, many of her housemates had parents or older siblings in the fold and they were bound to know why her parents had been murdered. This year is going to be torture...at least last year, what's-her-name gave us extra privileges...even though she was a right git.

Pansy wandered for the next two hours, minutes passing beyond her knowledge as she somehow found herself leaning up against a hard stonewall, curled up on the floor, her head resting lightly on the cold rock as she thought and hummed a song to herself.

"I can't stop thinking about cutting myself up," she sang softly. "Visual bruises can be covered in makeup..."

Breaking off, Pansy sat up again, startled as the sound of footsteps echoing off of the hollow corridor's walls. She scrambled to duck into a nearby room, directly across from her Potions class. Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

"Severus, did it go well?" a grave voice said, weariness pressing done on every syllable, as if the owner could not find the energy to carry on, as if, if it (whatever "it" was) had not gone well, he would be utterly defeated.

"As well as can be expected, Headmaster," Severus Snape assured Albus Dumbledore (as she now knew it had to be). "I've managed to convince them of my loyalty and even swayed Lucius on the matter, though he remains a tad suspicious. But it is to be expected. I only wish I could have saved the girl's parents."

"Alas, it was not to be so, Severus," Dumbledore sounded even more saddened, even more fatigued.

"I remember Polaris," Snape intoned dully, blandly. "He was liked by everyone in the school and everybody marveled at the fact that he and Lucius were best friends. Total opposites. If you had asked me at the Sorting, I never would have suspected he would go over. Him and Larissa both. He was a good friend to me, one of the few who ever stuck around to find out who I was."

Pansy squirmed, uncomfortable with the predicament she was in. She couldn't go out, that much was obvious. Surely, she would run into Snape and Dumbledore. And an angry Snape was something that she didn't want to deal with. But if she stayed...she could be there for hours and hours and be discovered anyways. Besides, she had no desire to listen to stories about her parents. Bugger, she thought, annoyed.

Pressing her fingers along the rough stone of the vacant room, Pansy prayed that she found something, anything that indicated a way out. No windows, no place to run, Parkinson, a taunting voice played through the corners of her mind.

"Damnit," she hissed, slicing her skin against hard, unyielding stone. "Bloody, bloody, bloody..." she sucked gently on the cut, glaring at the offending wall. Kicking at the partition, Pansy expected pain to shoot up through her legs and the wall to gaze back at her, as mocking as the voices in her head.

Two things happened then. One was that she was right about the pain. Biting her tongue, Pansy stifled the yelp before it reached her lips and savored the throbbing awareness of her leg. It felt like she had twisted it in her vicious attack on the stone and it pulsated with a fiery ache.

The second was that the wall shuddered violently and seemed to retreat, leaving Pansy facing the vast, choking blackness of a tunnel.

*~*~*

Harry stepped off the train and surveyed his schoolmates with a sense of detachment and aloofness. His eyes were empty of anguish now, almost eerily at peace as he made his way through the crowds and towards the castle that had proven salvation to him time and time again. But not this year. Not right now.

"Harry," the familiar call began.

"Hi, Harry!"

"How was your summer, Harry?"

"Fancy winning the Cup again this year, eh, Harry? Good thing you've been reinstated. Bloody lucky that fucking bitch isn't around anymore, isn't it?"

"We'll thrash those Slytherins again, won't we, Potter?"

Harry, Harry, Harry...

Suddenly, Harry felt claustrophobic, forcing an absent smile at those around him and brushed past, a wraith in the crowd once more.

This is too much...he thought with frustration, growling slightly deep in his throat as he forced his way past classmates and peers. I've got to get out of here, he though desperately. Four months ago, I would have given anything to have people believe me, to have them treat me the same that they always have...

"Harry! Over here," came the quiet hiss and suddenly he was being yanked into a coach and shoved onto a seat. Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna, and Ginny stared back at him with worry. Well, Hermione, Ron, and Neville looked worried. Ginny gave him a soft, understanding smile that made his insides warm. She knows how it feels, even if they don't, Harry reminded himself. She knows how it feels to know that terrible things have happened because of you. Luna just looked mystically at him for a second before turning to stare out the window.

"Harry--," Hermione chanced before cutting herself off abruptly. She exchanged uncertain glances with the others and began again. "Harry, we're here for you. Please don't shut us out."

Harry cocked his head to one side. Yes, perhaps they were there for him, they would support him. Even if they couldn't understand, they could try and that was all that he could ask of them. Feeling slightly less alone, he settled back against the seat and watched as Hogwarts loomed closer, the Thestrals who pulled the carriage snorting.

For better or for worse, Harry's sixth year was about to begin.

*~*~*

The Welcome Feast was just starting to begin, the Sorting over and done with and Pansy was sitting stiffly between Draco and Blaise who were considerably withdrawn. Pansy noticed idly that Draco looked worried and his eyes kept flicking towards the Gryffindor table and Blaise seemed paler and thinner than normal but she dismissed it as nerves over the Dark Lord's now known return and residual anger over the fight to, as Draco had put it, "defend her honor."

Pansy picked at her plate, nodding now and then to Draco and Blaise's weak attempts to start a conversation. Her eyes skipped over the room, past Cho Chang at the Ravenclaw table who was alternating between also playing with her food and shooting flirtatious glances at Roger Davies (Funny, thought Pansy, I thought she was into that bloke at the end of term last year, Michael- something-or-other) past the Hufflepuffs who were again very subdued this year, and over to the Gryffindors. Inadvertently, Pansy's gaze settled on Potter, brave, saint Harry Potter who spent his time saving the school and opposing the Slytherins.

Brave, saint Harry Potter who looked as bad as she felt.

Wonder what's the matter with him, Pansy mused to herself. He was ignoring Granger and Weasley and staring into space. His face was drawn and pale, paler than even Draco's had ever been and the normal confident, almost boyishly content aura was diminished. The haunted expression in his lackluster jade eyes was piercing and Pansy had to rip her own smoldering orbs away from his figure. A strange tug at her heart caused her to quickly glance up once more, straight into the clouded face of Draco Malfoy.

"What are you staring at, Pans?" he asked casually and it was only because she had known him her entire life that Pansy caught the curiosity and, strangely enough, nervousness that lingered in his voice. She shook her head briefly. No way. Draco Malfoy was never nervous. She must be imagining things.

"Nothing," she cocked her head, letting her tousled brown hair to fall gently over her shoulder. "Why?"

"You were staring at the Gryffindor table for a long while before looking at Draco," Blaise broke in with a small, mysterious smile. "Or rather at a certain Gryffindor."

"Potter looks awful," Pansy stated flatly. "Just wondering when he took a trip to hell and back."

"Ah," Draco looked as if his curiosity had been appeased and he relaxed his tense posture slightly. "Yes, well, do you think he was considerate enough to buy us a set of robes? I've always wanted the ones that read, 'Going to hell? Can I be your tour guide?'" His meager attempt at humor was lost to Pansy. She barely registered his joke when Dumbledore stood up to make the customary speech.

"Another year begins at Hogwarts," Dumbledore paused slightly, peering over his half-moon glasses at the pupils. "Another year begins but so do dark times. Here today, we remember many of those who have been lost to us this past summer, to the battles with the Dark Lord." Whispers broke out at this comment. "I request that we have a brief moment of silence." The atmosphere was thick in the Great Hall and Pansy was fighting back memories of the night her world had ended, the night her parents had died. She raised her head and somehow found herself meeting the gaze of Harry Potter.

He looked at her with an unfathomable stare and Pansy bit her lip. A current of magic seemed to ripple between the two, Gryffindor and Slytherin, boy and girl and Pansy forced herself to sneer at him but she knew that he would be able to tell that it wasn't real. The voice of Dumbledore brought her back to the present.

"Now, Mr. Filch would, once more," he sighed tiredly but the twinkle in his eye did not diminish, "like me to tell you that magic is forbidden in the corridors and that any joke products bought from the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes shall be confiscated forthwith." Dumbledore coughed gently, giving the impression that he would not be enforcing that rule. "The Forbidden Forest is, of course, forbidden, as all of our students should note." A glance was shot at the Dream Team but Potter seemed not to notice. Interesting, Pansy murmured silently. "And we have a new addition to our staff." Here, Dumbledore beamed even more broadly. "I am pleased with welcome once more as our Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, Professor Remus Lupin." Many students cheered at this, even some Slytherins, but Pansy sank lower in her seat. So the werewolf was back to teach.

Funnily enough, even the Slytherins cannot ignore the fact that he was the best DADA teacher we ever had. I distinctly remember Millicent cooing over him, despite her moaning now, Pansy thought disdainfully as she rose with the rest of the table and began to walk towards the Slytherin Common Room. But something caused her to turn her head and glimpse over her shoulder a trailing outline of Harry Potter dragging his feet and making his own way to his Common Room.

Who are you really, Harry Potter? Pansy asked him silently. And what have you done to make me care so much?

A/N: Yes, another chapter done!!! Yay!!! *grins widely* What did you think about it? How was the Harry/Ginny interaction? Harry/Pansy? Please review!

Next Chapter: First week of classes and some interesting encounters ensue. Find out more in the next chapter!