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Don't Give Up On Me | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Romance Warnings: Death, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Violence Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 173 Summary: Harry Potter has a destiny to defeat Voldemort and save the Wizarding World, but it’s hard to do when he’s the only one who knows that the Dark Lord has returned. Hitcount: Story Total: 50402; Chapter Total: 1876 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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The darkness of Grimmauld Place suited his mood, Harry decided. He’d spent a few weeks with Sirius after leaving Hogwarts, but his godfather was still intent on tracking down the real killer that he’d served the time for and spent most of his time coming and going. The Ministry had all but given up searching for him, having captured all the rest of the escaped convicts and returned them to Azkaban. Remus drifted through, but he, too, seemed preoccupied with life, leaving Harry with too much time alone. With both Ron and Hermione gone, Harry found himself wandering the house for hours at a time, staring into dark corners and pondering what had gone so wrong lately. The Auror Academy was nothing like Harry expected. He was the odd man out there and destined to flounder his way through more classes taught by instructors far tougher than Severus Snape had ever been. There were a few others from Hogwarts, but Harry didn’t think he could stomach being around Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott for long. When they weren’t in class, they were supposed to spend hours a day observing the Auror department in action and doing jobs that their supervising Auror’s gave them. Harry was assigned to a gruff, seasoned Auror named John Dawlish who wanted nothing to do with him, belittled him constantly, and had made it his mission in life to make Harry as miserable as possible. It left Harry feeling...less than satisfied with his life. He missed the routine of school, the ease of knowing he had a place to be and familiar faces surrounding him. He missed the idea that he had little expected of him other than being on time with his assignments and performing well in exams. Most of all, he missed Ginny. Those last stolen moments on a golden Spring day had carried him for weeks. Toward the end of June, he found himself wishing he had some excuse to apparate to the Burrow to see her. Mrs. Weasley would have welcomed him, he was sure, but he felt...out of sorts about showing up. How would Ginny react? They hadn’t parted with any sort of promise. In fact, their ending had been as confusing and draining as anything Harry could imagine. Ginny wanted to be with him as much as he longed for her, but she wouldn’t allow it. And Harry tried to understand, even though it still hurt like a fresh wound. He set a series of tasks for himself to achieve every day to help the time pass and keep himself focused on whatever it was he hoped to achieve at the end of his training. He still wasn’t even sure that being an Auror was what he wanted, but he couldn’t think of anything else. Ron hadn’t been accepted into training, even though he’d applied with Harry, but had a job waiting for him at Quality Quidditch Supplies when he returned from Europe in August. He seemed happy enough about it, and told Harry that it would work for now, until he found where he wanted to be. Harry found a few abandoned fields where he flew in the afternoons after work. That seemed to help him clear his mind, although it also left a whole lot of time for his thoughts to wander. They would often land on Ginny, but he also tried to figure out what it was that seemed to be bothering him about the world more and more. He’d subscribed to every newspaper and magazine there was and read them religiously, scouring them over mealtimes looking for something. The desk in his bedroom was a sort of shrine to things he’d found that felt...off. He’d removed the articles from the papers, laid them out and move them around to try and see patterns in them. Nobody had seen his obsession, and Harry planned to keep it to himself until he could find something concrete to base his ideas upon. He didn’t even know for sure that something was wrong, only that it felt wrong. The only pattern he’d found so far was a series of mysterious disappearances reported in The Quibbler, of all places. There would be an advertisement taken out for information about so and so, who had gone missing. Generally, there would be an editor’s note some weeks later mentioning that the person was on holiday somewhere or had moved without telling family. But Harry had tracked at least five disappearances that were unsolved. When he’d mentioned something to his Auror partner, Dawlish had been anything but amused and piled more old cases on Harry’s small desk for him to study and review. Harry’d almost been buried in an avalanche of parchment files. He’d visited Luna one evening in July to try and talk to her about the cases, having learned that she actually wrote up most of the missing persons articles. But Luna had assured him that the readers of The Quibbler were not unknown for going wandering. Her father, Xenophilius, had rambled on about conspiracy theories that Harry had never even conceived, let alone could believe. He’d told Harry that magical creatures had infested most of the upper officials of the Ministry, that they could not be trusted, and that Harry was better working as a gardner than as an Auror. Both Harry and Luna had laughed off the warning, but Harry couldn’t help but feel uneasy as he left that evening. It didn’t help that he’d starred in the direction of the Burrow for more than fifteen minutes before apparating to London. Mr. Weasley caught him in the lift the next day and all but demanded that he come to the Burrow for dinner. “Molly is worried about you, Harry. We haven’t seen you in ages. And I know that you’ve been spending time with your godfather but...well, we miss you.” The guilt made Harry almost drop the stack of books he’d been levitating, and he’d promised to be there before six, even if he had to come back to the Ministry to finish his course work. Then he’d spent the rest of the afternoon worrying about how Ginny would react when he showed up. It took him fifteen minutes to decide on which black robes to wear before he snatched one off the hanger and threw them on, cursing himself. He apparated to the garden at the Burrow and gave himself a mental pep-talk as he walked toward the door. The strong smell of lilacs near the kitchen window made him falter as he realized that was the scent that Ginny generally wore and he stared at the pale purple flowers, wondering if she made her own shampoo before shaking himself and knocking. “Harry, dear! It’s so wonderful to see you!” Mrs. Weasley gave him the biggest hug he could remember getting and didn’t let go for so long that he felt himself get emotional. “Sorry, Mrs. Weasley. I guess I’ve gotten wrapped up in things a bit too much.” She tsked and tutted him, bothering over the state of his too-long hair, and poking at his ribs before sitting him at the table. “Afraid it’s just us tonight, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said as he sat at his usual place. “Ginny’s been spending more and more time up at Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur.” Mrs. Weasley was levitating food toward the table and clucked her tongue at Ginny’s name. “That girl,” she sighed. “Now, Molly,” Arthur soothed. “She’s...stretching her wings. All the children do it. We must remember that we’ve raised them to be independent and we can’t get too mad at them when they use that independence against us.” Harry tried to appear ambivalent about the conversation, even as he soaked up every word. He was glad they hadn’t told him that Ginny was off with a new boyfriend. Even though he wanted her to be happy, Harry wasn’t at the stage where he could wish her happiness with someone else yet. “Tell us all about what you’ve been doing, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said as they settled into dinner. Harry’s eyes went wide as Mrs. Weasley added helping after helping to his plate and determined that he wouldn’t eat for a week after this meal. “Well, it’s interesting,” he lied. “I’ve been very busy with my courses lately…” He went on to tell them about the things he was studying and neglected to tell him that his marks were hovering about the fail level. He’d already received one warning from his partner that he needed to do better, or risk being kicked out of the program completely. As the evening went on, Harry found himself relaxing more and worrying less. These people loved him, for reasons that Harry couldn’t fathom, and they wanted him to succeed. He left with his arms full of leftover containers and his heart buoyed up a bit more. He vowed to do more than he was to get his life into order, even if it was only to see Arthur and Molly Weasley beam at him again as they waved from the back door. Xxxxx Harry was having the worst week of his life. The last month had seemed...better, if only because he’d stopped losing himself in the newspapers and thrown himself into his classes, determined to do well so that he could make the Weasley’s proud. He’d gone to dinner twice more, thrilled to find Ginny home both times. They chatted about Quidditch, her brothers, and what Harry was doing, but Ginny never answered his whispered questions about how she was. Her smile was bright and her laugh loud, but at least she was speaking to him again. They even shared a few laughs on her birthday as she unwrapped the gift of an empty photo album that Harry had stewed over giving her for hours and thanked him. Ron and Hermione had come home from their trip, gloriously in love and ready to begin their jobs. They’d come over to Grimmauld Place a few times in the evenings and the friends would play a game or spend time talking. It finally felt like things might be working out for Harry, after all. Then this week happened. Perhaps it was the looming date of September 1st, when Ginny would be headed back to Hogwarts that distracted Harry. Or the fact that he’d failed his Concealment Charms exam--spectacularly failed!--and had been trying to avoid Dawlish at all costs. Ron’s visit the previous afternoon to try and lure Harry away for lunch--unsuccessful, as Harry had been buried in more revising--hadn’t helped. He’d let it slip that Ginny and her mother had been rowing loads lately. Harry worried that he should try to see Ginny before she left for Hogwarts, and then worried that he might make things worse if he did. In the end, he’d planned to write to Ginny and see if that helped, rather than include himself on the platform at King’s Cross and make a scene. He hadn’t slept well at all lately and was yawning when he entered Auror Headquarters. The bustle of activity--unusual for the office--alerted him that something was happening. “What’s going on?” He asked another of the trainees, Annalese Hawkins, who was watching the proceedings with wide eyes. “No clue,” she whispered back. “Heard they’re mobilizing three whole squads for immediate dispatch.” “Cor.” Harry hurried to his desk, hoping to see the bright yellow slip there that would give him his orders. Instead, he found the wood covered by stacks and stacks of files, enough to keep him busy for a week. He spun around, prepared to demand to know what was going on from his partner, but Dawlish was across the room, giving instructions to Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. Harry couldn’t hear what he was saying, but from the smug looks on the two men’s faces and the way they glanced over Dawlish’s shoulder toward Harry, Harry could guess it wasn’t pleasant. And he wasn’t surprised, considering who they were. Rather than wait, Harry marched across the room and joined the group. “This is not for you, Potter,” Dawlish grumbled. “Your work is on your desk.” “I’m not being dispatched, sir?” Dawlish rolled his eyes. “You’re on administrative discipline, Potter, for failing to pass the simplest class. I’d say it will be a cold day in hell before you’re dispatched anywhere.” The two jackasses standing there smirked and Harry felt his wand hand itch to hex them. They’d always been prats to him, but being accepted to Auror training together hadn’t helped, so Harry wasn’t surprised that he was the joke of the recruits. “Sir--” Dawlish spun and loomed over Harry, his heavy jowls quivering. “Back to your desk, Potter, or I’ll send you packing.” The laughter from the others and the fact that everyone had heard humiliated Harry. He swallowed back a retort and walked back to his desk. “He’s an arse,” Hawkins whispered as he passed. Harry nodded but couldn’t bring himself to look at her. His face burned and he got even madder when he looked at the paperwork he was meant to review and organize. It looked as if he was doing it for the entire unit, not only Dawlish’s cases. “What’s the call out?” he finally asked Hawkins when he saw her getting ready. Her senior partner, Nymphadora Tonks, had handed her the yellow paper a few minutes before and given Harry a pity smile before disappearing to prepare herself. “Not sure exactly,” said Hawkins. She scanned the paper and screwed up her face as if trying to understand. “Some sort of disturbance in Muggle London. Strange. It doesn’t say what it might be. Maybe it’s a training exercise.” “Maybe.” Harry picked up the first case file and leaned against the wall as he scanned it. There were so many piles on his desk he had no room to work there. “Making sure the world is safe from papercuts, Potter?” Malfoy sidled by and bumped Harry’s desk, causing a landslide of files to fall to the floor. “Doing your work for you, Malfoy,” Harry grumbled. A silent spell set the files back in order and Malfoy’s eyes narrowed at the magic, but he didn’t retort when Dawlish walked up and shooed them off to their assignment. “If you ever question my authority in front of anyone again, Potter--” “I can be of help, sir. I know Muggle London well--” Dawlish came closer, shaking with anger. “Why? You’re nobody, Harry Potter. You’re one of a dozen recruits who walk in that door every year and think they can change the world. Well, I have news for you; you’re nothing special. You’re no different than any other Auror out here. In fact, you’re less, because you can’t seem to wrap your head around the fact that you’re not needed here. I could snap my fingers and have another dozen recruits here in minutes who could do more magic than you have in your little finger.” Harry looked away, anger and fury burning beneath his skin. He wanted to fight back, but the truth was that Dawlish was right. Why did Harry think he was anything special? “Sir, I think--” “You know what, Potter,” Dawlish said as he threw his hands in the air, “I’ve had enough of you today. Leave your things here. Take some time to evaluate if you want to be here, or if you’d be better off doing something else with your life--anything else!” “You’re sacking me?” Harry tossed the file in his hand toward the pile, not caring where it landed. “Not yet,” Dawlish threatened, “but if you’re here when I get back, I will. And if you show your face for the rest of the week in this Ministry, I will. I’ll let you know when you can come back.” “Don’t bother,” Harry growled. “What’s that supposed to--” “I quit.” Harry summoned his things from the desk, turned on his heel and walked out of Auror Headquarters, his face burning and his ears ringing with the whispers that followed him down the hallway. He nearly stopped in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, where Arthur Weasley worked, but he couldn’t bring himself to see the man’s face when Harry admitted that he’d failed at the only thing he’d ever really tried hard at. He left the Ministry on foot, ignoring Percy, who passed him in the atrium, and walking down the streets of London until he found himself in a place he’d never been before. With a soul-heavy sigh, Harry found a place he could disapparate from and appeared in the entryway to Grimmauld Place. It was silent, until the painting of Sirius’ mother began to yell. Harry didn’t even bother to tell her to shut up, just walked past and up the stairs to the room he’d moved into. He undressed, tossing his pale blue trainee robes into a heap on the floor. He thought about owling Ron or Hermione, but lay down on his bed instead, his arm over his eyes. Why did everything have to be so hard? Harry was tired of being tired all the time, tired of feeling like nothing was working in his life. He felt like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit anywhere in either shape or pattern. He dozed in and out, woken with terrible nightmares of horrific things happening in Muggle London, attacks like he’d read in his history books about Grindelwald and the dark days when wizards tried to take over everything and innocent people got hurt for being in the way. He also dreamt of Professor Dumbledore, confusing dreams where he sat across the desk from the wizard and saw the man’s lips moving but couldn’t make out what he was saying. And then Dumbledore faded away to dust, leaving Harry to feel helpless and lost again. “Harry. Wake up.” Ron nudged him awake and Harry blinked at the faint light in the room. It was golden and coming in at a low angle. “What time’s it?” he slurred, rubbing his eyes under his glasses, which had been pressed into his face. “After five,” Ron said. He stood in the middle of Harry’s room, his maroon colored robes with the double Q’s embroidered on the lapel signaled that he’d come straight from work. “Hermione told me the news.” Harry blinked at him, trying to clear his mind from the swirl of images, both dream and real that danced about. “What--” “You quit?” “Oh. That.” Harry lay his head back down on the bed, staring up at the dusty, discolored ceiling where a tangle of vines was pressed into the decorative tiles. “What the bloody hell happened?” Ron pushed some dirty laundry to the floor and sat down in the wooden chair that Harry had in front of the desk in the corner. Harry sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. “I...I can’t do it, Ron. I can’t work for the Ministry right now.” Ron peered at him. “Is this more of your corruption rubbish?” “You never believe me--” “Because you have no proof,” Ron pointed out. “You and Ginny...” he stopped talking and shook his head. “Like two peas in a pod. Neither of you can point to one thing that shows there is corruption at the Ministry.” “I can’t explain it, Ron,” Harry snapped. He stood and pushed past Ron, intending to go downstairs and get food, even though he wasn’t hungry at all. “It’s just a feeling I have.” Ron followed, thundering down the stairs after Harry. “What do you mean a feeling?” Harry threw up his hands, trying to find the right words to make Ron understand, even though he’d never been able to do so before now. “In my gut,” he said, resting his fist against his belly. “In every fiber of my being, in my very bones, Ron, I know that something is wrong. I can’t… I don’t understand what it is, but I know it’s there.” He continued on into the kitchen and began banging around, gathering food that didn’t remotely look appetizing, but it was something to do with his hands. “I wish I understood,” Ron said. He started to gather food too, taking more care than Harry was about what he put on his plate. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, I just...I don’t see it. Ginny’s been on and on about the same thing lately.” Harry froze and thought about that. He wanted more than anything to talk to her, to listen to what she had to say and see if she was feeling the same things that he was. But she was leaving for Hogwarts...tomorrow morning, Harry realized, and she didn’t want to talk to Harry about it, anyway. “I can’t explain it any more than that right now, Ron,” Harry said. He sat at the table and put a fork full of cold food into his mouth. It tasted like ash, but he ate it anyway. “Besides, I was pants at being an Auror, anyway. I never would have made it through three years of that shite.” Ron’s eyebrow rose, but it seemed that he didn’t have anything to say about that. Harry wondered how bad the rumors at the Ministry were and how much Hermione knew about why and how Harry had quit. “What are you going to do now?” “No clue.” They were quiet for a few minutes, the only sound the scraping of their silverware on the plates and the soft flutter of Hedwig, whose perch was in the corner of the room near the fireplace. “You could always--” “I’ve got time,” Harry said, realizing that it was true. He still had the money from his vault in Gringotts, the one left to him by his dead parents; he’d barely used any of it through his Hogwarts years. And, it wasn’t like he needed a whole lot of money, anyway. He lived here in Sirius’ house for free. Mrs. Weasley had been keeping his cupboards and fridge stocked by sending food to him via owl--something Harry vowed to stop letting her do all the time--and his needs were simple. “Yeah,” Ron agreed, “I guess you do.” “Besides, if the Aurors really want people like Draco Malfoy in their ranks, it’s not the place for me.” Ron made a horrified face. “Malfoy? You didn’t tell me that.” “Him and several other Slytherins.” “Not sure how you stayed as long as you did, then. Slimy bastards.” Harry smirked. “Yeah, well, I had the marks and fit their qualifications on paper,” he said. He wasn’t sure if Professor McGonagall pulled some sort of strings for him behind the scenes or not. She had promised him that she would help as much as possible when he’d told her he wanted to be an Auror back in fifth year during his career counseling session. Granted, Harry had pulled the idea from thin air, but still… “But the Ministry…” He shook his head, unable to articulate it sufficiently. “It’s not right, Ron. It’s...surface. All of it. I know that makes no sense--” “Is this about the ‘people are too happy’ thing that Ginny keeps talking about?” “Yeah, in a way.” “I don’t see how that’s a bad thing.” “It is if it’s not real, Ron.” Ron thought about that, his eyebrows pinched together. “I guess I don’t see it, but...but I don’t think you’re crazy.” “What about Ginny?” Ron smirked. “Oh, she’s a nutter, but that’s because she’s my sister and I’ve known her her whole life.” “You don’t think she’s crazy?” The smile slipped from Ron’s face. “I think...that Ginny has some problems, Harry. I don’t know exactly what they are. The nightmares--” “I have them too.” “I know.” The two friends stared at each other and then down at their empty plates. Harry couldn’t remember eating all the food he’d put there, but he must have. He still felt empty, not hungry but...hollow. “It’s like...remember when Flitwick taught us about Cheering Charms in third year?” “Yeah. “Well, imagine that,” Harry said, “only on a huge scale. Like someone has cast a massive Cheering Charm on the world.” “That’s….” Ron shook his head. “That’s barmy.” “Right.” Harry was fully into the explanation now that the idea had taken hold in his mind. “Only, what happens when the charm wears off? How do you feel?” “Like shite.” “Right.” “And this huge charm has worn off for you?” “Or never worked right in the first place,” Harry said. “And I know it’s stupid, but...but it’s the only thing I can think of to explain. What if it is like that? What if it’s like someone cast the charm, only what we’re feeling isn’t real, it doesn’t exist. Happiness and contentment and prosperity aren’t things you can create. They’re either real, or they’re not. And if you make something that simulates it, then what is being hidden behind it?” “Like a mask?” “Maybe.” Ron swore and shook his head. “I take it back, Harry. You’re crazy.” Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes after removing his glasses. “I know.” Ron levitated their plates to the sink and charmed them to begin washing. “I need to go. We’re supposed to have a family dinner tonight.” “What was that?” Harry asked, motioning to the sink. “Appetizers,” Ron said with a smirk. “I’m a growing boy.” “Keep eating like that and you’ll be growing ‘round the middle.” Ron laughed. “You should come with me.” “No, thanks,” Harry said. “I’m not in the best mood tonight.” “Nobody cares about that, Harry.” “I care, at least right now. Give me some time and...maybe.” “I understand,” Ron said. “You should go to the station tomorrow. I’ll bet Ginny would like to see you.” Harry nodded but he knew he’d never go. He couldn’t show up and see Ginny without wanting to talk to her, hold her, demand that she look at him. As good as she was at pretending, Harry knew he never could. “I’ll think about it.” Ron nodded and gave him a long look. “Don’t...don’t do anything stupid?” “Right.” Harry stayed sitting at the table for a long time after Ron left, thoughts swirling in his head. Hedwig woke him from his trance by flapping at the window, demanding to be released for her nightly hunt. “Be safe,” he told her as he opened the window. “I’ll leave one of the upstairs windows open for you.” He walked through the dark house, refusing to light a candle, or turn on a lamp, and back to his bed, where he collapsed again. Pounding on the downstairs door woke him and Harry stumbled downstairs, glancing at the clock to see that it was past noon. “I’m coming,” he grumbled again when the pounding resumed. He held his wand firmly, unsure what to expect. Anyone he knew would generally apparate straight into the house, not be at his door knocking. And since the house was unplottable, whoever it was couldn’t be some random sales person… He peered through the window in the doorway, shocked to see who it was, and swung the door wide. “Ginny.” She stood on the steps, her Hogwarts robes haphazardly thrown over her uniform, her trunk standing on end next to her. Her hair was in disarray, as if thrown into a knot at the last possible minute before she was due on the train. She looked...drawn and pale, and for a moment Harry worried that something had happened. “Hi, Harry.” “What’re you--” “I need a place to stay.” Without another word, Harry levitated her trunk inside before allowing her past him and closing the door. He followed her through the entry and into the hallway, until Ginny turned to look at him. For the briefest moment, Harry was reminded of seeing her the first time, so young. “I thought you’d be on the train to Hogwarts.” Ginny removed her robes and tugged at the red and gold tie, removing it completely. “I’m not going back to Hogwarts. I waited until Mum and Dad left me and then disapparated from the train as it left the station.” Harry shook his head, trying to keep up. “Why--” “Because…” Ginny sank down until she was sitting on a settee that Harry had levitated in here when he had first moved in, shoulders slumped and looking as exhausted as Harry felt. “Because I can’t go back there, Harry, not alone, and not...not like this.” Harry sat next to her, aware now that he smelled horrible, that his clothing was still what he’d worn to work yesterday and that he’d slept in it twice. “I’ve been telling everyone for ages that I didn’t want to go back, but nobody listens to me. They just...don’t see it.” “I know.” But Ginny wasn’t even hearing Harry, it seemed. “I tried to talk to Bill, I thought that he might understand. But he told me to grow up and stop acting like a baby because I’ll be lonely up there.” She was crying now, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. “It’s not about that, Harry. At least, it’s not just about that. I can’t go back there because it’s wrong. It’s all wrong--” “I know.” “--and I’m so angry because nobody listens, nobody takes me seriously. They think I’m insane. Percy actually accused me of it last night, Harry. Merlin! Ron said he’d invited you, but I’m so glad that you didn’t come. I wouldn’t have wanted you--” “Seems like I should have come,” he said with a huff. “Someone needs to be on your side.” Ginny leaned against him, tucking her head under his chin and nuzzling into his shoulder. “I’m glad you weren’t there, even though...even though it would have been nice.” Harry slid his arm around her back, holding her to him. He closed his eyes and tried not to let hope bloom. She might be here now, she might even be in his arms, but that didn’t mean it would last. It seemed it was always one step forward, but two steps back with them. “Can I stay?” “Yes.” Harry held her until she fell asleep and for a while after, even. She was heavy against him, but if he had to guess, he’d say it was probably the deepest sleep she’d had in a long time. Slowly, when he couldn’t hold her any longer, Harry shifted her onto the settee, making sure she wouldn’t roll off and laid her discarded robes over her, tucking them around her. He walked to a narrow credenza that sat in the corner of the room and took out a quill and parchment, scribbling a note. A click of his tongue summoned Hedwig, who landed on his outstretched arm and accepted the rolled note in her talons. “Take that…” Harry thought about who should get the note. He didn’t want to cause more problems, but someone would know that she wasn’t at school in a few hours. At the very least, Mrs. Weasley’s clock would alert her that something was off. If Harry told someone, at least they would know that she was safe and where she was. He had no doubt that there would be hell to pay soon. “Take that to Arthur Weasley.” Hedwig nipped at his ear and allowed Harry to carry her to the window before soaring out. |
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