Disclaimer: The lyrics found in this chapter belong to the incredible Avenged Sevenfold.
Unholy Confessions
“I'll try," she said as he walked away,
"Try not to lose you."
Two vibrant hearts could change.
I wish I could be the one
The one who doesn’t care
But I know this is where I have to be
And maybe in the end
We can be
Trust in me,
I know the way to go
No one's guiding me
Confided in me was your heart,
I know it’s hard to fall and
I know it's hurting you,
But it's killing me
I wish I could be the one,
The one who doesn’t care
But being the One on the stand,
I know the way to go,
All I need
Is for you to hold my hand.
Mostly everyone had paired up after reaching Hogwarts’ grounds. As the Order stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, hidden in deep shadow, Hermione had stood silently gazing into the cold, empty windows of her school. They peered down at her, dim sunlight skipping off their smooth surfaces and winking at her like eyes, leaving Hermione transfixed in dejection.
Now, Hermione squinted between her flowing brown hair, trying to make out the exact identities of the dozen or so black specks around her in the sky: the Order.
Hermione’s stomach dropped and tickled objectionably as she peeked over Harry’s shoulder and bunched his jacket between her fingers.
They were at least a hundred feet in the air, and she really didn’t understand why on earth anyone would make this a sport.
“Don’t worry, I think we’re getting close,” Harry called over his back, accurately interpreting Hermione’s nervous hands.
Five minutes later, they were over raging water. Hermione busily buried her head in the crook of Harry’s neck, unable to see the soft smile tugging on the corner of his lips.
The waves below howled and swirled in a tangle of translucent green and blue. The wind, already slicing loudly through the air, intensified and fumed in Hermione’s ears.
“Hermione, you’ll want to see this,” Harry hollered, his muddled black hair flapping across Hermione’s forehead.
Bracing herself, Hermione looked up.
The gold and pink rays of the summer sun gleamed around a massive mound in the distance. And there, a collection of tall, jutted rock and metal which peeped in front of the horizon like a shadow puppet, was Azkaban.
Hermione’s shining russet orbs widened in awe, both at the beauty and horror of the rapidly approaching scene. Her eyes watered in the whipping wind, and she made to rub them before one of the black dots she’d been observing shot quickly past her, nearly grazing her outstretch elbow.
It was Tonks; she’d sped up, zooming past everyone and heading into the horizon at what Hermione thought to be an excessively dangerous speed.
She was just about to cluck her tongue in disapproval when she stopped herself, and eyed the side of Harry’s face instead. His brows were knitted close together, his lips thin, his eyes analytical.
Hermione anxiously opened her mouth to warn Harry against what she just knew he was about to do, but was too late, as she only managed to swallow a gulp of salty air as Harry kicked off, propelling he and Hermione past Tonks, past Lupin, past everyone, color whipping around them in a blur, the wind so loud it was silent, Hermione’s hands clutching at Harry. Her abdomen tickled nauseatingly, her mouth ran dry, and then”
They’d come to an abrupt halt.
Harry lowered the broom to the ground and jumped off breathlessly. He lent Hermione his hand, squinting into the sky as Moody and Hagrid approached from above.
Hermione’s mouth still hung open, her eyes still wide. The shriek which she meant to give when Harry had first sped off had been slapped out of her in a horrified shock.
But now”
“HARRY!”
Harry swung around to face her. “What?!”
“What were you” are you” why” you bloody PRAT!”
“It wasn’t that fast,” he muttered quietly, a lopsided grin pulling on the corner of his mouth.
Soon, the rest of their party caught up with them and made soft landings on the cliff, their shoes hidden by the island’s tall, brown and yellow grass. Mr. Weasley moved towards Lupin, his expression grim, as the two began talking in a feverish whisper.
Ginny immediately ran to Harry’s side, but caught sight of Hermione before reaching him.
“Hermione, you all right?”
Hermione couldn’t answer. She could only stare with wide eyes into the distance, her hands still slightly shaking at her side. Harry glanced at her face and barely stifled his amusement.
“Err… right… umm, anyway,” she turned to Harry, “I’ve told Dad I want to go with you when we split up.”
Harry’s expression instantly hardened. Hermione, with great difficulty, snapped herself out of her shocked trance and eyed the pair cautiously.
“Ginny… it’s probably best if you went with your Dad,” he said after a while, his voice grave and somber.
Ginny shook her head. “No, Harry. I want to be with you.” She let the words hang in the air, her deep eyes pouring into his. Hermione’s stomach dropped sordidly.
“Alright, Harry, Hermione, you two go with Lupin, Moody, and Charlie,” said Mr. Weasley, breaking the awkward silence from a distance.
Ginny tore her gaze from Harry. “Why is it assumed they go together?!” she asked nastily, her eyes narrowed on her father. “I’ve told you, I’m going with Harry””
“Yes, yes, I remember,” he sighed in defeat, shooting Lupin a pleading look. “Then” Tonks, you join them?”
Tonks gave a sturdy nod.
“Well…” Mr. Weasley cut off, casting his mournful gaze on Ginny’s turned back. “Everyone else… you’re with me.”
-------------------------------
The dead grass crunched loudly beneath their feet as Harry’s group pushed aside draping branches and made their way towards the center of the island. It couldn’t have been much past four in the afternoon, but darkness had already descended. The only light was a faded and muted yellow as it fought to filter through the thick canopy of lifeless leaves above them.
The great, tall trees which blocked every path had clearly been dead for decades. Harry reached out his hand and touched one of the trunks, and was overcome with the thought that it was a mystical death, one born from misery, anguish, and sorrow so intense it sucked your very soul from you”
Dementors.
Harry barely had time to grieve for the striking innocence of nature, so unguarded against the Dementors, before Lupin interrupted his thoughts.
“There’s a clearing ahead,” he called, “but a… break in the path just beyond that. We should camp here for tonight and get an early start. We shouldn’t attempt to move on in the dark.”
Harry gave a silent, cynical laugh, wondering what gave Lupin the idea that the sun’s absence had anything to do with the time.
A quarter of an hour later, tents had been conjured and supper with it. Hermione sat inside at the rickety wooden table, setting the bowls and plates.
“You’ll have to do with what we have,” Moody growled as he kicked Harry towards the table. “No Molly around to fix anything decent.”
“I’m sure it’s just fine, Professor Moody,” Hermione offered kindly, secretly breathing through her mouth as atrocious wafts of green steam met her nose.
“When are you going to stop calling me ‘professor,’ girl?”
Hermione blushed lightly.
“Err… what’s this?” Ginny asked, spooning some chunky brown soup hesitantly into her bowl.
“It’s stew, Weasley, what does it look like?” Moody snarled.
Ginny scrunched her nose and avoided Moody’s glare.
“Want some, Harry?” she asked, reaching out for his bowl.
“Err… no thanks, Ginny…”
“Why not?” Moody snapped, “It’s all we have, you had best deal with it””
“No, it’s just”” he stumbled, searching aimlessly for an excuse. “It’s, uhh…”
“Harry doesn’t like lima beans, sir,” Hermione spoke up timely. Everyone at the table turned to look at her.
“Is that so?” Moody inquired, his ethereal blue eye fixing her with a contemptuous stare.
Harry leaned over to peer in the pot of stew, his eyebrow quirked.
“Yes, it’s” he’s never been fond of them, which is why he doesn’t take to stew often,” she offered, trying not to cower under his accusing watch.
Harry rested back in his seat and glanced at Hermione from the corner of his eye.
“Oh, I didn’t know,” Ginny muttered.
“Fine then. Guess you’ll have to starve boy,” Moody growled again.
“Rather starve than eat that mess,” he whispered to Hermione under his breath.
Hermione lowered her head and hid her smile.
An hour later, Harry was no where to be found. Lupin and Tonks sat in the corner on old, makeshift beds, talking quietly and casting each other furtive glances. Moody was making rounds, limping from one tear in the tent to another, watching the outdoors with his unwavering ‘constant vigilance.’
The only noticeable sound echoed from Charlie as he tapped his fingers against the table, his eyes pouring over a thick blue tome, his head resting in one hand.
“Hermione, have you seen Harry?”
Hermione looked over her shoulder to see Ginny eyeing her worriedly. “No, I was just wondering about him too.”
“I’m worried about him,” she confided quietly. Hermione turned around to look at her. Ginny’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes hollow and cold.
“So am I, Ginny.”
The redhead shook her head, averting Hermione’s gaze. “Something’s wrong… it’s more than Ron. I can tell there’s something else going on… between us.”
Hermione felt a sudden flood of frustration. How could Ginny be so concentrated on her love life when Harry was suffering? How could she be so selfishly inclined towards her own wants and needs when Harry needed someone? When there were more important things going on?
“Well… you’ll have to ask him, Ginny. Excuse me for not being caught up on the latest teenage gossip.”
Ginny looked up to meet her eyes, stunned. “I’m trying to ask Harry,” she said spitefully, “but if you haven’t noticed, I can’t find him. No need to get snippy.”
“I don’t think now’s the best time to go to him with relationship issues,” Hermione returned in kind. “And I’m not being snippy. I’m just worried. About Harry.”
Ginny narrowed her eyes on her, as if looking for something more than Hermione’s flat responses. “Yeah, well you’re not the only one, Hermione.”
Then she walked away, her curtain of red hair nearly whipping Hermione across the face.
-----------------------
Too long. He’s been gone for too long. Days. They’ll have at least tortured him by now.
Harry’s thoughts clouded his vision. He looked out into the smoldering forest, his eyes hazed and unfocused.
“Harry?”
Turning around, he found Hermione walking slowly towards him, her arms folded around her waist.
“Hey.”
“What are you doing so far from everyone?”
Harry threw out his arm. “Looking at Lupin’s ‘break in the path,’” Harry said sarcastically, his free hand motioning towards the ground.
Hermione looked down to see she was standing on the edge of a cliff. The thick, tall grass covered the jutted ledge, but stretching for at least thirty yards was a great crack in the ground, as if a giant had come along and peeled back the earth. It was an empty, bottomless pit, with cool, damp air emitting from the center; looking down, there was no end in sight. Only black.
“Yeah, my reaction too,” Harry said, watching Hermione’s eyes light up with shock.
“I wonder how that got here,” Hermione questioned breathlessly, her eyes still sweeping over the edge.
“Dementors, probably. Another precaution to keep prisoners from escaping.”
Hermione whipped her head up to meet Harry’s gaze. He gave an imperceptible shrug and shook his head.
“Yeah. I don’t know either.”
Hermione saw the sadness behind his usually guarded eyes and knew he was talking about Sirius. The gap was too wide; there was no feasible explanation for how he’d gotten past it.
“Well, maybe it… maybe it ends?”
Harry looked down the sides of the ledge, tracing the line, which stretched as far as the eye could see. “Yeah. Maybe.”
Harry sighed deeply and ran his hand through his black hair. “I wonder if McGonagall’s run into Malfoy yet.”
Hermione pulled on her fingers, watching Harry unabashedly. After a long moment, she lifted her hand. “I brought you a sandwich,” she said timidly.
Harry looked down at it. “I thought all they’d brought was stew?”
“That’s all they brought, yes,” Hermione affirmed, peeling off the plastic bag. “But I snatched some of Mrs. Weasley’s sandwiches before leaving. I had a feeling they’d come in handy.”
Harry took the sandwich appreciatively. “Thanks… for earlier, too. I didn’t even know there were lima beans in there.”
“Would it have mattered?” Hermione teased. “I can tell you, it was horrible, lima beans or not.”
A smile tugged on one corner of Harry’s lips.
A long minute passed in which Hermione considered her next words.
“Umm…” she began restlessly, “Ginny… she’s looking for you.”
Harry stopped chewing and looked Hermione square in the eyes.
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
Hermione bit her lip. After a moment’s hesitation, she sputtered, “Harry, what’s going on? Why””
“What do you think about Snape?” he asked out of the blue.
Hermione’s brow furrowed. “Come again?”
“Snape, sending his patronus…”
“Harry, don’t change the sub””
“I haven’t gotten to ask you about it yet,” he interrupted. “What do you think?”
Hermione sighed in defeat. She looked around helplessly for a moment before turning back to face him. “Well… I’m not too sure, Harry.”
“Rubbish,” he said between a bite. “You always have a theory.”
Hermione pursed her lips. “I don’t think he’s on our side,” she said tersely.
Harry paused and raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes, really. It’s like you said” he killed Dumbledore. Nothing can redeem him from that. And anyway, it wouldn’t make sense,” she reasoned, “He’s obviously a coward. What reason would he have for fighting against Voldemort now? There’s something else going on here.”
Harry nodded and flicked a piece of crust into the black abyss. “The question is what.”
“Well,” Hermione considered slowly, “Have you thought that” that maybe Voldemort’s told Snape about the Horcruxes?”
Harry lowered his sandwich and regarded her shrewdly. “Why? What would that have to do with anything?”
“Well, why would Voldemort tell Snape about something so dangerous? It would be extremely risky, to trust anyone, even a Death Eater, with that information… Knowledge of the Horcruxes is knowledge of Voldemort’s mortality,” she asserted candidly. “And we both know how much Voldemort loves himself. How dear to him his own life is… so if he’s told Snape, it’s because he feels not telling him is an even greater risk… and why would that be?”
“Because he knows someone else is on to him” an enemy” and he needs to protect the Horcruxes. And he needs help. Snape’s help,” Harry exclaimed dramatically, his eyes concentrated and resolute.
“Precisely,” Hermione affirmed. “And that enemy is you, Harry… which comes to one of two possibilities: Snape is genuinely on our side… or, Voldemort knows you’re after his Horcruxes, and has sent Snape on a mission to stop you.”
Harry’s lips thinned as he turned his gaze to the ground. What little light was able to sift through forest reflected softy on his glasses as Hermione watched his features tighten into determined deliberation.
“Alright then,” he muttered after a moment. “If that’s the case, why would Snape have helped us? Why did he send his patronus?”
Hermione shook her head lightly, crossing her arms and gazing past the great hole before her. “I don’t know,” she mumbled, “That’s one piece of the puzzle we can’t know for sure. Not yet. But it must be that… to presume Snape’s nature isn’t inclined towards Voldemort… it just wouldn’t be logical.”
Harry sighed.
“Yeah, well… I agree with you. But there doesn’t seem to be enough room for much of anything besides doubt anymore, let alone logic.”
Hermione shut her mouth hastily and focused on his pained features. The warm breeze ruffled the tall grass… the only sound which broke the momentary silence.
“Harry…” she began softly, “Are you… are you all right?”
He turned his head halfway towards her, shooting her a guarded look. “That’s one hell of a question, Hermione.”
She shut her mouth worriedly, fixing him with apprehensive glances.
“Well,” she started, “It’s just” I know there’s a lot going on, but””
“None of us are ‘all right’ at the moment. But I’m fine… it’s just been a difficult week. A difficult year.”
“A difficult life,” Hermione muttered gently.
Harry’s eyes quickly shot up to meet hers. Turning fully, he faced her and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Hermione, I””
“Don’t hide from me, Harry.”
He closed his mouth abruptly.
“I want to be here for you… but I can’t. Not when you do this. Not when you let me in a little, just to shut me out completely.”
Harry licked his lips and turned his gaze to the sky. “Hermione, what are you on abo”.”
“You hide, as if you’re afraid of something. But it’s just me, Harry… and I don’t know what’s happened.”
Harry stared back at her blankly, unwilling to reveal any reaction. Hermione took a deep, steadying breath.
“Last year… last year something was different. It was so subtle I don’t even think you noticed, but you didn’t” it was as if you didn’t need me anymore.”
Harry looked up at her with a furrowed brow, pain and uncertainty etched in the light specks of his eyes. “That’s not true.”
Hermione lowered her head. “It felt that way,” she murmured quietly. “And now… I don’t know. I know it’s silly, but… I just wish you’d open up a bit more. Just tell me what you’re thinking. Every other time, you’ve been able to talk to me, and… I just… don’t want that to change.”
He was looking straight at her, watching her eyes even though she continued to avert her gaze. He saw her hands fidgeting together, but also saw the steadfast resolve in her distant expression, and in it, recognized the Hermione he’d always known. Even still, her frail form and flyaway strands of auburn hair added to his idea that she looked so terribly lost.
“I don’t feel as strong as everyone thinks I am,” he said quietly after a moment. “I’m just a boy, Hermione. Just an ordinary teenager with a scar.”
Hermione lifted her head and answered him with the most sorrow-worn eyes he’d ever seen. A second later, he felt a warm pressure envelope his fingers, and looked down to see Hermione’s hand gently holding his. “You may only be a teenager, Harry,” she whispered, “But you’re far from ordinary.”
Harry fought the urge to look away. The soft breeze swept through his hair, ruffling the ends so that they folded lightly across his eyes. “I wish I was as confident as you,” he whispered back.
Hermione smiled sullenly and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
“What if… what if I fail, Hermione?”
Hermione tilted her head sadly, her eyes morbid and embracing. “You won’t, Harry.”
Harry swallowed and bent his head. “You can’t promise me that it’s not a possibility.”
“Harry…” she whispered quietly… then paused, searching for words. She focused on his piercing green eyes, the looming forest backdrop fading into haze. “You’re a great wizard, Harry,” she smiled. “I’ve always said so. But not… not for why you might think,” she breathed. “There are some things no one can take from us. Hope, strength, love… no one can take them… not even Voldemort. And you have them… more than anyone else, you have them. And unless you let him, Voldemort can’t take those things away. So, as long as you fight… you can’t fail,” she whispered. “Sometimes you just have to remember what you’re fighting for.”
Harry’s eyes burned into hers. Flecks of color sparkled with an unspoken reaction.
She shifted, feeling naked under his eyes. And after a long moment, his intense stare unnerved her. She felt his powerful green orbs focusing intently on her every move, her every thought, as if they saw straight through to her innermost feelings.
He gave no sign of it, but she swore there was a pleading look embedded in his soft expression. Her fingers tingled with the desire to reach out and assure him, but of what, she didn’t know. Her subconscious mind registered the distance between them and how it had somehow closed in seconds. His uncertainty was asking her a question, she could see it, but his gaze held so much meaning she couldn’t bring herself to decipher his beseeching looks.
His lips parted slightly, his eyes refocused on something faintly lower than her eyes, someone moved closer, she didn’t know who, and suddenly her muscles relaxed unnaturally as she froze to the spot, her whole body on edge, her heart palpitating soundly with the weight of whatever was about to happen.
“Hermione?”
Whirling around, she saw Lupin’s tall frame emerge from the shadows as her mind came crashing down roughly, thought after indistinct thought toppling heavily onto her weak chest.
“Harry?” Lupin continued, oblivious to Hermione’s winded expression. “What are you two doing out here?”
Hermione heard Harry try to clear his throat. “Just talking.”
Lupin stepped forward and fixed the couple with a suspicious look. “Alright,” he mulled slowly. “Well… let’s get back now. Azkaban Island isn’t the best place for nighttime strolls.”
He shot Hermione an almost knowing glance before turning his back and shuffling through the trees.
Hermione suddenly noticed her ragged breathing. She hastily sucked in a breath of damp air, trying to calm her nerves.
She didn’t move to face Harry. But after a minute, she felt the soft ground shift beneath her feet as he walked around to stand in front of her. The façade he wore with Lupin only moments ago melted away as he resumed his deep stare.
Hermione’s vision blurred; she felt almost dizzy, she didn’t know what was happening. But a second later, a delicate, warm pressure met her cheek. Focusing her eyes, she found herself whirling in a pool of blazing green.
Harry’s hand was lightly cupping her face. He leaned in, bringing them closer, and breathed, “I know exactly what I’m fighting for.”
His eyes smiled sadly down at her, but he gave no other indication of his meaning. He dropped his hand from her face, and immediately, his features returned to the hardened, concentrated expression he’d taken to wearing the past few months. His boyish grin faded, his compassionate glances were replaced with the familiar rough determination.
But it didn’t matter; she’d seen it was still there… the other part of him. He showed her the weak, vulnerable, Harry she’d known existed… the one that needed comfort and assurance just as much as anyone.
Hermione inhaled a shaky breath. Harry took a step backwards, never relinquishing his gaze from her eyes. Until finally, he put his hands in his pockets, quirked a half smile, and turned around to walk back through the thick forest.
I know it’s hard to fall
And I know it’s hurting you
But it’s killing me.