Being More Than You Are

Being More Than You Are

The wind blew hard, billowing out his cloak. With his hands in his pockets and his head faced towards the ground, he remained perfectly motionless. It was a cold, black evening. The years passed slower each year. In his opinion, it seemed as though the years had more events to slow down for. It was late November, and he stood at the top of the North Tower, the same North Tower where he had once set his god-father free. He opened his eyes slowly, surveying the vast landscape before his eyes. He watched the moon slowly plunging into the abyss of the soft red hue that the sun had created from the other end of the horizon. The sky had become so achingly beautiful Harry was sure anybody would have cried. Anybody would have smiled. Laughed. They would have done something. But nobody did anything. He did nothing.

His chest scarcely moved and his mouth and nose were dry from not breathing. His skin was as cold as ice as the high winds bit him and burned it near red. But Harry did nothing. He dropped his gaze down to the ground below and saw a girl and a boy rushing out of greenhouse three making their way to the castle. Harry saw the boy grab the girl by the shoulders as they ran, pulling her close and breaking the wind from falling upon her. Slowly, Harry raised his leg over the low, stone ledge and pulled his hands out to steady himself between the large rocks either side of where he began to sit. Swinging his legs slightly, Harry dared not think. He cleared his mind because he chose not to think at this moment. He knew that everybody around him wanted him to cope. To heal. They needed him. They didn't know it, but they needed him. And so, to relieve himself, he came here where nobody could come. Where nobody needed him. And he did nothing.

Soon, as time passed, Harry somehow became warm where he was. It wasn't impossible for him. The rocks gave him shelter and as he drew the hood of his cloak up, the wind stopped affecting him. Harry closed his eyes and leaned into his arm, humming a little tune he made up as he slept, his mind dwelling only over images of his mother, father and Sirius. That picture of them on their wedding day.

"Harry, the veil is death. I'm sorry, Sirius is dead." Dumbledore looked grave, respectful. Solemn. He raised his eyes to Harry, looking over the rims of his glasses.

As Harry turned around, slowly processing what was just said, the sleeve of his cloak had caught on a small porcelain ornament. It fell to the floor, breaking into two uneven pieces. One piece was very small, almost insignificant, but when Harry picked up and examined the larger piece, a small house elf, he saw it looked out of place without his lantern. Slowly, Harry placed both pieces on the table. He saw Hermione about to make a move towards him and Ron searching to meet his eyes from across the room. Remus sat in a low chair nearest the desk with his hands covering his face as his head lay low, nearly in his lap. Snape, McGonagall, Tonks and Moody all stood round the fireplace.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had all been invited to an Order Meeting, their very first one. The trio speculated whether or not they would be considered for an induction into the Order. When the meeting was over, Dumbledore slowly announced that there would be a funeral for Sirius sometime before or during Christmas.

Harry was confused.

Without meeting Dumbledore's eyes, Harry turned and reached out for the broken ornament. Picking it up slowly, Harry turned it in his hand for a good grip. Then he threw it with all his force at the window behind Dumbledore. Several things happened at once. Hermione screamed and started walking towards Harry but stopped short as his hand extended outwards. Making his way to the door, Ron appeared before him placing his hands on his shoulders to meet his gaze. Harry waved him off, causing Ron to crash onto a table and sent Astrolobes and a telescope flying towards Fawkes' perch. When the others by the fire went to make for Harry, he held out his hand again while a glowing wall appeared just before their eyes.

With a sideward glance into Dumbledore's eyes, Harry stood silent for a moment and then whispered, "Tell them."

Without looking back, Harry walked out the door.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and he opened his eyes slowly. In front of him the sky had darkened into a new black. There were no clouds and there were no stars. Only the moon remained.

"Harry, I was worried. We all were."

It was Hermione. Harry stood up slowly on the ledge and stepped down so he could look her in the face.

"I needed some space," Harry lied.

He came up here hoping he'd be able to throw himself off, or that Voldemort would appear and Harry could just leave this life. Hermione smiled, but it wasn't the same sort of a smile she'd give him any day.

"You're not so special you know." Hermione laughed, and Harry smiled, confused, but willing to play.

"I'm not? So the most feared wizard of all time is hunting for your blood too? Oh, now, that's just rotten luck right there Hermione." She laughed, not looking at him.

"I mean, with me, I was born unto it. Well, I kinda adapted to it, but this must be a bitch to your social life." Harry looked at Hermione. She stood looking over the lake smiling.

"So, Dumbledore told us." Harry listened as she spoke almost light-heartedly about it.

"Seems you're the one and only saviour of all our souls, then? Well if it makes you feel any better, I revoke my statement about how you often play the hero." Harry looked up at her. Her face was straight but something in her eyes smiled.

"You know what I was thinking before I went...y'know, in Dumbledore's office?"

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "Was it - I wonder if this will make it through that window?"

Harry smiled. "I thought why are we doing this? Why are we taking up his fight against him? Why do we bother?"

Hermione looked confused, and said, "Harry... he's evil..."

"No not us as in the Order. I mean us as in you, me and Ron. Hermione, we're just kids."

Harry closed the gap between them. He felt himself getting worked up again. "I've seen Dean, Seamus, Lavender and Parvati. They don't care what's on the Daily Prophet. They don't care about how all the dementors are missing. They put more importance on whether or not their subscription of Witch Weekly comes, or when their parents owl them a replacement football. Why can't we do that Hermione?"

Harry's voice was rising a little bit, and he didn't really know why. "It was Sirius. He kept on telling me I was just a kid and to let the adults handle everything. He kept on telling me to have fun, to enjoy my life. How can I? What's fun to me Hermione? Learning more curses from Moody?" "Taking Occulumency?" he laughed emptily.

Harry was bordering shouting now and Hermione's eyes were shimmering. She wanted to help, she needed to help. "Why do I feel like all I'm being trained for, is an early grave? Why is everybody skirting around the fact that I may not live? And now you know about the prophecy you know it will end that way, everybody knows."

"No..." Hermione said, almost willing it not to be true, she took Harry by the neck and lowered him to her.

Twisting her head to the side, she kissed him and held him there. Harry, stunned, took her hand and eased away stepping back from where she stood. She looked at him, her hands by her side. Her arms bounced, not knowing where to go, which was strange for Hermione. Her eyes set on his as he looked back. Harry looked away over the forest, his eyebrows crossed. He took a breath and turned; Hermione was still holding that gaze.

Harry closed the gap between them in seconds and kissed her lips tenderly. Hermione slid her tongue through her lips and met his own tongue halfway. Harry tasted salt and realised he must be crying. Hermione tasted her own tears and realised, she must love Harry.