You Can't Deal Alone

Harry pushed his trunk against the bedroom wall and sat on it. His head fell to his hands in defeat. The haunting thoughts that had flown around his head all summer had stilled. Harry wasn't sure he liked the silence any better.

He had arrived at Grimmauld Place sometime after dusk the previous night. Everyone who hadn't gone to pick up Harry was asleep, except for Ron, who was waiting for Harry in their shared bedroom.

When Harry entered, Ron jumped up from his bed grinning widely. Harry momentarily forgot his misery at the sight of his best friend. As they shook hands, Lupin, who had escorted Harry to his room, left the two boys silently.

"How was it with the muggles?" Ron had asked in a hushed voice.

"It wasn't too bad," Harry had replied, not untruthfully. "I stayed out of their way, mostly." The anticipation of seeing his friends again had begun to wear off, so Harry had gotten into his bed. Ron followed suit. Harry had then taken off his glasses and set them on the nightstand.

"You must be tired," Ron had whispered across the room. "What with packing and flying and everything."

"Yeah," Harry had mumbled, thankful for the segue. "Goodnight, Ron."

"Goodnight mate," Ron had answered, and was silent for several minutes until continuing, "Listen - are you, y'know, alright?"

Harry then rolled over, as if he hadn't heard Ron's whisper. Ron had then fallen sleep himself, leaving Harry to his thoughts. His mind couldn't help but retracing Harry's steps through the Department of Mysteries, the battle, his godfather's death.

Harry's scar burned, but Harry wasn't alarmed. It never seemed to stop burning anymore. A tear rolled down Harry's cheek, but it wasn't his scar that caused it.

It was 9:30 in the morning as Harry rested on his trunk, not hungry. Ron had gone down to breakfast with Harry's promise that he would follow in a minute. Harry knew that everyone would want to see him, but he wasn't ready to face them. He hadn't been ready to face anyone since the night of the battle, but he knew he had to. Harry stood, his posture bent. He felt older than Dumbledore.

The smells of Molly Weasley's cooking normally made his mouth water, but this morning they gave him a headache as he entered the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley heard footsteps and turned to see who it was.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, rushing at him. He was soon engulfed in a motherly hug. She held him for longer than she had in past summers and when she pulled away there were tears in her eyes. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks," Harry replied and gave her a small smile. "Thanks for letting me stay with you..."

"Nonsense," she interrupted. "It wouldn't be summer without you. You're family, no trouble at all. Now go sit down. Ginny and Hermione are waiting to see you."

The two girls were on their feet when he entered the dining room. Hermione squealed and nearly jumped on him in a big hug.

"Welcome home, Harry," Ginny said, beaming.

"Thanks," Harry responded, his voice muffled as Hermione had not yet let go. She finally released him and welcomed him as Ginny took her turn in hugging him. The three of them sat down.

"Morning, Ron," Harry said.

"Good to have you back, Harry," Ron replied.

Harry smiled his first real smile since summer began as Mrs. Weasley brought out toast and eggs.

Later that afternoon Harry returned to their room, alone. Ron and Hermione were downstairs arguing over a game of chess.

Harry lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He was twirling his wand in his fingers absentmindedly when he heard the door open.

"Harry?" A timid voice questioned. Harry saw a flash of red in the corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw Ginny gently closing the door behind her. Harry sat up, cross legged. Ginny sat on his bed across from him, one leg tucked neatly under her.

"Hi, Ginny," Harry said uncertainly. She had a determined look in her eye. Harry got a sinking feeling that she wanted to talk about Sirius. "How has your summer been?"

"It's been alright," she said as she twisted the ring on her right hand. "We've done some cleaning, you know, like last summer. We've been taking care of Buckbeak, too. Actually, that's why..."

"How are things with you and Dean?" Harry cut her off, certain now that she wanted to talk of the past.

At this question a bolt of anger flashed across Ginny's face. "That stupid git? He owled me last week saying, 'things aren't working out.'"

"Oh, I-I'm sorry."

"As if I hadn't already found out he was snogging Padma Patil on the train home."

For some reason, the news of their break-up caused Harry's heart to beat faster. Harry studied Ginny, who was tracing figure eights on the bedspread, and he thought, she looks so pretty, with the sun... what am I saying? She's Ron's little sister.

His sudden, and quite unexpected, feelings of affection disappeared at Ginny's next words.

"How've you been holding up since - since Sirius's death?"

Harry could feel his face harden. He hadn't publicly shown any emotion about that night since he wrecked Dumbledore's office, and he wasn't going to. Not yet. He wasn't ready.

"Ginny - don't," Harry pleaded, meeting her eyes. She wavered, but didn't break the contact. Her face took on a look of compassion and she moved closer, so their knees were an inch apart.

"Harry, you've got to talk..." Ginny insisted.

"No, I don't," Harry declared evenly, though he felt like screaming. "Not right now. Not ever, if I don't feel like it. So if that's all you had to say, you can leave."

Ginny's eyebrows furrowed together, confused. "I'm just trying to help," Ginny sympathized. She reached her hand out to cover his; he shrank away from her touch without thinking. Seeing the hurt and angry gleam in her eyes, he instantly regretted it.

"Ginny," he started, but she didn't let him finish.

"No, fine," she snapped and stared straight at him, the hurt well hidden by infuriation. "See if I try to help you again. You know, you ought to be a little more appreciative. The entire world isn't out to get you." Ginny gracefully slid off the bed and crossed the room, her shoes clicking angrily on the wood.

"I didn't mean to..." Harry started to explain, but Ginny sent him a look of venom and slammed the door behind her.

Harry punched his pillow, trying to release his anger. "Damn it!" he shouted, collapsing and drifting through a shallow slumber.

Ginny slammed Harry's door and listened to the echo in the empty hallway. Her face was burning compared to her hands upon her cheeks.

She stalked down the corridor to the room she shared with Hermione. Leaping onto her bed she punched her pillow and swore, unaware that Harry was doing the same across the hall. Ginny felt tears of anguish build up behind her eyes, but none fell.

"Why did I even try to talk to him?" Ginny chided herself. "He's always acted like I'm more than a year younger. He treats me like I'm still ten years old, chasing after the Hogwarts Express. He's not like Sirius; he'll never treat me as an equal." Worried that someone would hear, Ginny turned her thoughts inward.

When he came downstairs this morning he was smiling, like the old Harry. He looked so attractive, Ginny admitted, blushing at herself. I thought maybe I could help him. Maybe he'd treat me differently after the Department of Mysteries. Does he not realize that I'm hurting too? We all are.

Harry didn't seem to comprehend that Ginny had also found a confidant in Sirius. Sirius never treated her as a daughter, little sister, or significant other. She was just Ginny, an equal.

Her argument with Harry broke down the shield she had slowly built the first two weeks of vacation. Turning so she faced the wall, Ginny let out a small sob.

"Gin?" Hermione's voice came from behind her. "Oh, Ginny." Hermione sat on the bed next to her and rubbed her back. Ginny sat up and forced herself to stop the tears. She hated crying in front of people.

"Stupid, really," Ginny muttered, trying to laugh it off. "Harry and I got in a little argument, and then I started thinking about Sirius..." Ginny broke off and looked down, unable to stop tears. Hermione hugged her, understanding how the younger girl was feeling. Ginny pulled away after a minute of crying into Hermione's shoulder and sniffled.

"Thanks," Ginny whispered and smiled weakly.

"It's hard," Hermione sighed, looking away from her friend.

"What?"

"Everything. Life, death, living while others aren't," Hermione murmured and closed her eyes. "He's back, Ginny. And we have to fight. It's - it's scary."

"He's back," Ginny repeated slowly, as if saying them for the first time. "And the prophecy said that Harry..." The girls ceased talking, both losing themselves in their fear of what the future might hold.