Being Alive

Being Alive

Somebody hold me too close,

Somebody hurt me too deep.

Somebody sit in my chair

And ruin my sleep

And make me aware of being alive,

Being alive.

Harry Potter sat in the Great Hall of Hogwarts during lunch period, looking around aimlessly but not really seeing anything his eyes rested on. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, his two best friends, were fighting again. It wasn't that the fighting really bothered him. Harry had reached the point where he could usually tune it out. The problem was that Harry felt excluded. The sexual tension between Ron and Hermione was almost palpable, and it was amazing that they didn't seem to notice it. There had even been several occasions when, during one of their rows in the Gryffindor Common Room, the students present had begun pairing off and finding dark corners.

Harry looked across the table and happened to catch the eye of Ginny, Ron's younger sister. She rolled her eyes and smiled slightly, indicating Ron and Hermione. Harry smiled back. Ginny, at least, understood.

Harry returned to his contemplations. Some of his irritation with his two friends stemmed from the fact that he honestly didn't know what he wanted to happen between them. Part of him wanted them to just snog each other silly and be done with it. He wasn't sure if that would stop the fighting, but he hoped it would provide him (and the rest of Gryffindor) with some respite.

Another part of him, however, was afraid for Ron and Hermione to become a couple, because where did that leave him? He already felt alone in many ways, but having his two best friends dating would leave him alone more often than ever. He knew that was selfish, but he couldn't help it.

Somebody need me too much,

Somebody know me too well,

Somebody pull me up short

And put me through hell

And give me support for being alive,

Being alive.

Hermione stormed out of the Great Hall, ending the fight. Ron looked at Harry with a slightly perplexed expression. This irritated Harry; how could this have been going on for the last two or three years without Ron having figured anything out? He swallowed this feeling, though, and just shrugged. A small part of him wanted to tell Ron to go after her, but Harry still wasn't ready to commit to a course of action on this.

Furthermore, Harry was envious of Ron and Hermione. Envious of their closeness, even disguised by conflict. Envious of how well they knew each other, how they knew just which buttons to push. Even of how easily they could hurt one another when they weren't careful. That meant they had allowed themselves to become vulnerable. What was worse, they didn't seem to have to think about it. Harry had not observed any point in their relationship when they had taken steps to protect themselves, to put up walls.

Harry wondered if he could ever let himself be vulnerable to anyone like that. Perhaps that was another trait of being brought up in a loving family that he had missed out on. The love of friendship had been difficult enough for him to accept; he wasn't sure he could cope with anything deeper. And yet, he felt a deep need to love and be loved. How could he reconcile this need with his fear?

Harry glanced over at the Ravenclaw table and noticed Cho Chang. He felt nothing when he looked at her. If he was honest with himself, he had really felt nothing for her last year, either. He was appalled when he thought of the shallowness of his thoughts at that time. He should have realized that she wasn't really ready to start a new relationship.

This thought made him suddenly angry. Why should he have known? He'd had no experience in these matters. She shouldn't have approached him if she wasn't ready.

Still, he had accepted, even though deep down he'd known it wasn't right. Harry could not avoid some share of the blame. His anger evaporated. He supposed that he had just been clinging to an old crush, hoping that he could hold the last strand of his lost innocence by pursuing a boyhood infatuation. It had been foolish, but forgivable. At least, he hoped so.

Make me confused.

Mock me with praise.

Let me be used;

Vary my days.

But alone is alone,

Not alive.

Harry found himself looking over at Ginny again. Looking at her, he remembered that he still hadn't told his friends of his unique burden - that is, that he was destined to either kill Voldemort or be killed by him. He hadn't really known how to tell them or if he wanted to see their reactions. Ginny reminded him what could happen to people who didn't share their burdens with others. She had turned to an enchanted diary and nearly lost her soul and her life. That had been mainly because of him, he remembered guiltily, so maybe it was fitting that he had saved her.

Hermione had said that Ginny was over him now, and Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that. No, wait. The words she had actually used were "she gave up on him." That wasn't quite the same thing, was it?

As he pondered the possible meanings of this sudden revelation, he also began thinking about love. It was not until he had met the Weasley family that he had any idea what love felt like. He supposed he did love them, and he knew they loved him. Romantic love, though, was still a mystery. How did it feel? How would he know if he ever experienced it? How was it different from a crush or infatuation? More importantly, to whom could he ask these questions? If Sirius had still been alive, he could have gone to him. Although, to tell the truth, he had no evidence that Sirius had been any better at this than Harry himself.

Somebody crowd me with love,

Somebody force me to care.

Somebody make me come through,

I'll always be there, as frightened as you,

To help us survive

Being alive.

He needed to share the burden of prophecy; that much was clear. Ginny might understand. Could he go to her?

Harry needed more than that, though. He needed someone to see him for being just who he was, Harry Potter. Not as the Famous Harry Potter, not The Boy Who Lived, not the One Who Had Faced Voldemort, not even the Unwanted Orphan Nephew. His entire life seemed to be defined by labels given to him by others. Without those, he wasn't even sure who he was. If he could share himself with someone, maybe they could show him that as well as stopping the loneliness and making him feel more alive. What was life without love, anyway? Since he'd spent most of his life without love, he knew the answer to that question: it was useless and miserable.

Shortly, Ron got up and asked Harry if he was coming. They both had a free period after lunch today, but they were going to work on some homework in the library. That was probably where Hermione had run off to.

"Go on ahead," Harry answered. "I'll catch you up."

He managed to catch Ginny on her way out of the hall. He was pretty sure she had a class now, but he wanted to ask her a question before he stopped thinking it was a good idea.

"Ginny," he said, stopping her with a light touch on her arm. "Can I talk to you?"

Being alive.

Being alive.