Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter why would I be writing on FanFiction? Come on.
Author's note: Hi. I'm super sorry this has taken so long but I've have been retardedly busy.
PS: Seriously, people, do I have to write REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW to make you guys press that happy little purple button down in the corner? If so, this is a very sad day. PLEASE REVIEW! If you don't I will die. Maybe not die, but will be very upset, maybe to upset to update quickly. (Oooh, blackmail.) :)
PPS: Just because Legs brought this up, in the last chapter I said Harry had aged prematurely. Don't think that he's ugly or anything, he's just had a rough time. He's not that old-looking anyway. Shut up Allegra!
PPPS: I'm going to have a whack at some Harry POV writing here, so you HAVE to review and tell me what you think. I find it loads easier to write Hermione POV, but this is what I'm willing to do for my REVIEWERS (Cough, cough, REVIEW!)
Heroes Returned
Chapter Three: Him and Her
What had she just done? She had been waiting for this day for so long and now everything was completely ruined. Now he'll never want to speak to me again. Why had she reacted like that? She had imagined that moment over and over in her head, and it never ended like it just did. Hermione slumped into the mattress on her makeshift bed on board the Knight Bus.
"Same old place, then, Miss Granger?" Stan asked from the front of the triple-decker bus.
"Yes, please, Stan," Hermione groaned as politely as possible from her bed. Stan said something to Ernie, the vehicle's driver, and Hermione's bed spun across the floor of the bus. Great, she thought grumpily, I'm going to vomit. That'll look just fantastic with the puffy red eyes and bright red nose.
"So, what's this all about then?" Asked Stan, who was completely unaffected by the great movement the bus (and its solitary passenger) had just endured. The bus suddenly took off with a great surge of energy as Hermione's bed flew to the rear of the vehicle.
Hermione tried to steady herself. "What do you mean?" she asked innocently, looking away from him. As sweet as Stan was, she was in no mood to discuss what had just happened. She swayed as the bus continued to speed down the streets.
"Oh, nuffin', I s'pose." Stan grinned. Hermione still wasn't looking at him; too caught up in her own thoughts. She grimaced and let out a sigh.
The bus stopped abruptly, causing Hermione to fly from her bed to the floor of the bus ungracefully. Stan ambled over to her and offered a hand which she took appreciatively. Grabbing her handbag off of the bed, she steadied herself and sent Stan a friendly, though somewhat half hearted, smile. She could feel the sadness welling up inside her - she was going to start crying any minute now.
As she approached the bus's steps she offered yet another meek smile over her shoulder.
"If you ever need, y'know…" Stan mumbled, going red.
"Thanks Stan," Hermione replied kindly, before swivelling around and stepping onto the quiet street.
Harry turned around. As he expected, six pairs of eyes were all looking pitifully upon him from the front door. Harry mustered up all the energy within him and began to stumble down the driveway. This was the last thing he wanted to do, surround himself with the people that he had abandoned, who he had betrayed. They would be expecting answers. He felt dirty being around them; he had caused them so much pain. But he had no choice, he was exhausted, physically, emotionally, and then there was Hermione…
Her reaction didn't really surprise him. In fact, he had expected her to slap him. She had every right to; he had ruined her life. But he'd get her back; he'd have to.
"Come in, dear," Mrs Weasley said sadly, as Harry drew near the front door. Her eyes were slightly red. She had been crying. More pain I've caused, thought Harry.
All of the Weasleys had similar expressions. Harry's feeling of filthiness only increased as Mrs Weasley led him into the house. Harry turned around to face the red-headed family. He opened his mouth to speak but Mrs Weasley shushed him. "It's alright, dear. No questions asked. We'll get some food into you and then up to bed." She smiled forlornly.
Harry didn't have the energy to fight her. He looked up at Ron and Ginny. They looked almost quizzically at him. Ron frowned, before turning and heading up the stairs hurriedly, not looking back. Ginny followed suit, but not without sending Harry an unreadable, yet filthy look.
Harry felt his heart sink even further as Mrs Weasley hurried around the kitchen. Fred and George spoke in hushed voices to their mother before smiling strangely at Harry and exiting through to the lounge room. The sound of a loud whoosh let him know that the twins had just Flooed away.
Harry immediately noticed Mr Weasley's absence. Harry had no doubt where he would be. Contacting Dumbledore. Calling an Order meeting. Informing the ministry. Why not? He thought. He ought to go to Azkaban for what he did.
Mrs Weasley dropped a plate of food in front of him. She smiled yet again and sat down opposite him. Why did people keep doing that? Harry thought. Smiling. Smiling is what you did to a friend, not someone who's let you down as much as I had.
Harry picked up his fork – and then put it down again. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, bemused.
Mrs Weasley's smile dropped. She cleared her throat and looked at him sterner than she ever had before. "Stop that right now. You're just as good as a son to me and no son of mine gets left behind." She shook her head. "Not even Percy." She mumbled.
Harry picked up his fork again and looked away from her. He slammed it down again, much more vigorously than intended, and looked at her again. "But… but… but I'm not! I'm not your son. I'm scum!"
"You're not scum, Harry," Mrs Weasley whispered.
"I let every one down!" He shouted much louder than he intended. He was now on his feet.
Mrs Weasley kept her place, not moving a muscle at Harry's great display of overreaction. "I'll not have a bar of that. Finish your food. I'll be back in a moment." She pursed her lips and stood up. She left the room, not looking back at the angst-ridden young man sitting at the table.
Harry slumped in his chair. He knew this was a bad idea. He couldn't even remember why had had come back in the first place, now. Why shouldn't he run out that door right now? He knew why: Hermione. He gave up with the food after about two minutes before stumbling up the stairs in the dark.
Harry just can't help but be angsty and self pitying. I know he's not very likable at the moment but I'm seriously doing this at the last minute. And Mrs Weasley's so lovely (maybe not in this chap, but she really is a legend.) I wanted more for this chapter but I'm going out in like five seconds and I really wanted to update (cough, cough, ALLEGRA MADE ME.)
What do I write here again?
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Lucy