Chapter 2
~
“Hermione, stop. He’s dead.” Ron roared, “He’s not coming back again. No trick. No mythical, magical, mother’s final sacrifice, he didn’t fucking survive! There’s nothing you can do! Stop making us all feel so much bloody worse and move the fuck on!”
“Shut. Up. I’m almost there.” Hermione was kneeling on the ground, knees bloody on the damp, rotting wooden planks.
“Hermio—”
“Shit! I’m almost there, so fucking shut up!” She traced the final band of the intercrossing rings of chalk on the floor, revolving a compass on her index finger around, around. She hunkered back to reveal an intricate design of interlocking circles and runes glowing faintly in broken rays of light. Her matted hair concealed her face.
“You can’t bring people back! They tried it with the resurrection stone, with the Philosopher’s stone, with every damn stone mentioned in the fucking Black library! It can’t be done! And who the bloody hell would even know how! Give it up and stop giving all of Hogwarts a fucking aneurysm!”
Hermione finally lifted her head, revealing dark ringed bags under her swollen eyes and charcoal smeared across her sallow cheeks. “Ronald. You know you’ve never taken ancient runes nor arithmancy, right? You were too busy fucking around in divination. The numbers check out.” The scleras of her eyes seemed to bleed scarlet.
“You wouldn't have even been able to comprehend it anyways…” She mumbled.
“Mione, listen to yourself! You sound crazy! You-you’re losing it!” Ron yelled, face redding. “And I can hear you calling me stupid! I’m not! Just because I haven’t memorized fifty-something archaic symbols for every goddamn word in the fucking English dictionary doesn’t mean you’re better than me! I need you to listen to me! Just listen!”
“Harry’s gone, okay?” Ron’s tone quieted. “I’m sad about it too, Hermione. He was my best friend. But you’re not coping! Please stop trying to bring him back, ’Mione. You’re killing us!”
“No one asked you Ronald!” Brown eyes fixated on him. “If you'd just listen to ME, you'd understand I’m not trying to bring him back! He’s still alive, I know it. No one asked for your opinion.”
“No one ever asks me anything! They just fucking yell!”
“You never have anything to say worth hearing.” Hermione tossed her hair over her shoulder.
“You never listen, anyways,” Ron muttered hostilely.
“I’m leaving, Ronald.” Hermione started shoving items of clothing into her threadbare sachet, adorned with beads.
“Don’t— don’t leave!” Ron said, exasperated. “This isn’t what you want.”
Hermione threw her head back and laughed. “How would you know? It’s too late now anyways. We’re done.”
Ron appeared stricken for a moment before his face curled into a snarl. “You’re being childish!”
“I’m the one being childish?!”
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? Just don’t go, please!”
Hermione stood by the door and took a hard breath. Materials were nearly spilling out of her ragged pouch, but she ignored it, curling her hand around the doorknob. “Goodbye Ronald.”
“I’m sorry, please just don’t,” Ron reached for Hermione, but she slapped his hand away, slamming the door shut vociferously, reverberating through the shack, illuminated only by dim sheets of bronze light.
~
It took a week for Harry to ask to leave the property for the first time. He had just wanted to go over to the nearest town to get some clothes instead of just borrowing Tom’s.
“It’s not safe,” Tom said. “There are people who would love to see me bleed.”
“Why?” Harry had asked.
Tom never answered.
It took only days for the second request, and then the third.
The only response Harry got was, “You’re too precious for me ever to risk losing you.” Tom would press his face into Harry’s palm and Harry would forget.
But Harry wasn’t meant for captivity. He wasn’t some sort of domestic breed, he knew he was meant for freedom, for exhilaration. He felt suffocated—-it was like when—
He couldn’t remember. His days were filled with daily headaches and pressing pain against his temples. He felt claustrophobic. And Tom seemed sympathetic but—
“I’m sorry, love. You can’t.”
By the end of the month, Harry had had enough.
“Tom.” Harry's eyes sharpened, “Tom.” Harry’s arms laid to rest on the back of Tom’s chair, caging him within Harry's reach.
Tom raised his eyes to meet Harry’s. “Yes, darling?”
“I need to leave. I can’t stay here any longer. Just for a walk. Let me see other people. Please—”
“It’s just not safe outside.” Tom’s face remained blank as his hands traced the muscles down Harry’s arms.
“Why— why isn’t it safe outside? You never explained! You never tell me anything, Tom. It’s like I’m a hostage or something!”
“You don’t know what you want.” Tom’s eyes narrowed, but he smiled softly and gently cupped Harry's hands in his own. Tom’s hands were glacial.
“Yes, I do!” Harry was surprised by his intensity, “At least tell me why I’m not safe. You owe me that much!”
“Darling. I would tell you if it was something you needed to know.” Tom’s eyes went steely. “You are perfectly fine here. You have all the space you could need on these grounds, and enough house elves to spoil you silly. Talk to them if you want more companionship. I don’t want to hear another word about leaving.”
“Look at me! Just look at me, okay? Do I look like I’m ‘perfectly fine’ to you?” Harry couldn’t help but raise his voice. “I’m not asking for anything unreasonable! Do you think I’ll get murdered for taking a walk in a random town for a few hours? That’s all I want. Tom—”
Tom inclined his head down towards his frayed book. “You know I love you, darling, but that’s why I need you to not take risks, okay? We’re done here. Go take a walk— stay on the property, Harry.”
“Fine. I’ll be back by dinner.”
“I don’t want to see you past the treeline…”
“I said okay!”
“Want me to come with?” Tom softened and dropped a kiss on Harry’s wrist.
“I need to be alone. Just for a little.” Guilt washed up on Harry. He tugged his hand away and hastily made his way out the front door, closing the door just audibly enough so that Tom would be able to discern the wooden echo from the confines of the library. He could sense Tom’s disapproving eyes boring holes into the closed door at Harry's back.
Before he could think, he was still, at the edge of the property, staring out at the sable trees. He dropped down in the grass, picking blades out of the damp soil and knotting them into a rope.
Fifteen inches of rope later, Harry felt a little silly shouting at Tom— for what? Being overprotective? He already had to agonize about keeping Harry safe from his own memories. He shouldn’t have to worry about Harry’s physical safety too. But it wasn’t fair that he just had to waste away in Tom’s mansion, which harbored the odd feeling of growing colder every day.
Harry hugged his knees. Even the message he found was probably just a joke with Potter and Severus or something. He didn’t have to take everything so literally.
Suddenly, Harry heard a gasp from the forest. He spiraled his head, quick as a deer, only to see a raggedy young woman, covered in dirt and long brown tangled hair with a beaded bag clutched in her frail hands. “Harry!”
The girl rushed over to him, enveloping him in her arms until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Tears dampened Harry’s shirt. “Oh, Harry! Everyone thought you were dead! But I, oh I knew you could never be! I knew you were out there! Not even Voldemort could ever have killed you!” The girl fisted her hands into his shirt. “Harry… I never stopped searching. I’m so glad you’re okay!”
Harry tentatively wrapped his arms around the girl. “I’m sorry?” He paused and gently pushed her away from him by her shoulders. “I’m afraid I can’t quite recall who you are.”
“You don’t remember me?” Hermione furrowed her brow. “What happened? —No. We need to go somewhere safe first. ” She grabbed his hand.
Harry didn’t budge. He tried to calm the girl. “Don’t worry, we’re safe here. Tom won’t let anything harm us here.” He patted her on the back. The girl— Hermione, only filled with panic.
“Harry… Who’s Tom?”
“You don’t know my boyfriend? Did you and I know each other well?”
“Your boyfriend? Harry, you’ve never had a boyfriend… Who’s Tom?”
“Tom Riddle? We’ve been dating for years…”