Save me before it's too late
He was literally a walking corpse. He couldn't eat, sleep, open his mouth or he might say something he would regret later. He had enough regretted decisions as it is, which reminds him of Ced- no. He won't think about that.
He was so tired. He felt as if he would fall asleep while walking to breakfast. And the only reason he did show up at meals at all was to not raise suspicion. Which was really ironic considering he just lost the only person who actually wanted him. His friends were worried, but Harry really couldn't deal with them right now. It's better if he didn't talk at all than scream his lungs out at them, telling them to shut the hell up. They got the message themselves.
He half-heartedly listened to Dumbledore's speach, alothough he could feel several eyes on him.
Hermione put some food on his plate. He made himself eat a small amount but only to satisfy Hermione and make her stop staring at him and nudging at his untouched plate. He could throw all that up later like he did every time.
The train was leaving today. He wishes it would leave without him. He doesn't want to be called a girl again. Not now, when he finally came out to people that mattered.
Wasn't that what he was, though? Just a stupid girl thinking she's something she can never be. She was- He was so tired.
His hair was getting longer. It touched his shoulders. He remembers when he first chopped it all off last year. Everyone thought it was to focus on The Tournament, and he did too. He didn't want to believe that the real reason was because he wanted to be seen as a boy. It didn't feel real then. He admitted, he was scared.
The first half of July was miserble. He did a couple of chores. Cried himself to sleep. And cursed everyone for leaving him when they were most needed. He deserved it, didn't he? He was a murderer.
The rest of the month was univentful, and he almost forgot his birthday. And then happened the Dementors. Harry had half a mind to let them suck his soul out, but he fought. And for that he almost got expelled.
He was later collected by the memebers of the Order, which he found was a secret society dedicated to fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
He was angry. Hugged Sirius. Screamed at his friends. Almost collided with Snape in the hallway and tried to just scramble away around the corner with an apology (that he deffinetly didn't mean) to avoid any insulsts, but it's Snape we're talking about.
He came out to Sirius and Remus. The conversation, if you could call it that, ended with the three of them in a rather awkward group hug, and oddly enough, there were tears in the eyes of all three young men present.
Sirius even gave him two black binders. "These should do. Tell me if they don't fit or if you can't breathe properly, there's a charm that can fix that" And when Harry asked him where he'd gotten them, Sirius told him not worry about that. Harry didn't press further.
His friends weren't any different, really, they accepted it and understood him without any unnecessary awkward explenations and/or conversations. It took a little bit for them to get used to calling him the right pronouns but he was glad they managed to adjust.
If he had so many supportive people, why was he feeling so numb? Why couldn't he shake this feeling of melancholy?
Cedric.
Cedric listened. Cedric gave advice. Cedric didn't judge. Cedric smelled like vanilla orchids. Cedric's hands felt soft holding his.
Cedric.
And now, every time he closed his eyes, those dimples haunted him. It was right before they grabbed that stupid cup, right before everything went horribly wrong. He could never forget the cold dread that settled over the graveyard. He saw it over and over again. The flash of green light, Cedric crumpling to the ground, lifeless. Murdered.
'Kill the spare'
Two days after being found not guilty by The Ministry, Harry stood in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Remus knocked on Harry's bedroom door earlier to inform him the Headmaster wanted to speak to him about something. Something important, looking at the man sitting across him. Harry knew that look meant trouble, even though the man wasn't actually looking Harry in the eyes. How odd.
“Professor?” Harry asked, trying to stay calm and finally break the ice “What’s going on?”
Dumbledore took a deep breath before speaking. “Harry, we need to keep you safe until school starts again. Grimmauld Place isn’t safe enough. Too many people know you’re here, and there have been... rumors.”
Harry’s heart sank. Grimmauld Place was dark and creepy, but it had become his safe place. “So, where am I supposed to go?”
Dumbledore looked at someone standing in the corner of the kitchen. Harry turned and saw Severus Snape, his least favorite teacher. Snape’s face was hard to read, but he didn’t look happy.
“You’re joking,” Harry said.
“I’m afraid I'm not,” Dumbledore said firmly. “For your safety, you will stay with Professor Snape for the rest of the summer.”
Harry felt sick. “Why him? Why not the Weasleys or—”
“Harriet,” Dumbledore cut him off gently but firmly, “the Weasleys’ home is too well-known. It’s the first place anyone would look. Professor Snape’s home is less obvious and safer.”
Harry glanced at Snape, who stared back with cold eyes. “I don’t want to go with him.”
Dumbledore put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “This is for your safety, Harry. I trust Severus, and now I must trust him to keep you safe.”
Harry realized he had no choice. The idea of spending weeks with Snape was terrible, but Dumbledore’s serious look convinced him. He nodded slowly.
“Fine,” Harry muttered. “But I’m not happy about this.”
Snape’s lips curled into a sneer. “Believe me, Potter, I am equally displeased by this arrangement. But if you wish to stay alive, you will do as you are told.”
Dumbledore sighed and looked at both of them. “It’s decided then. Severus, please get ready to leave.”
Snape nodded and swept out of the room, his robes flying behind him. Harry watched him go, feeling like he was walking into a trap. He turned back to Dumbledore, hoping for some comfort.
He found none. Only sadness and determination in those bright blue eyes that weren't twinkling as usual and still, hadn't locked with Harry's once througout this whole conversation.
Harry's heart pounded as he followed Snape through the narrow streets of Spinner's End. This will be the longest two weeks of his life, he was sure of that.
Snape walked with purpose, his black cloak billowing behind him. Harry struggled to keep up, his thoughts a whirlwind of apprehension and fear. What awaited him in Snape’s home? Would it be as dark and forbidding as the man himself?
As they reached Snape’s house, Harry couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. The building was just as dreary and unkempt as the rest of Spinner’s End, but somehow smaller, more ordinary. It was hard to believe that this unremarkable house would be his refuge for the rest of the summer. And even harder to believe that the famous bat of the dungeons lived here, in a Muggle neighborhood. Allthough the depressive feeling that was circling around this place certanly suited the man.
Snape pushed open the creaking door and gestured for Harry to enter. “After you, Miss Potter," his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Harry cringed at the title and gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to snap back. He knew he had to tread carefully if he wanted to survive the summer with his sanity intact.
The interior of Snape’s house was just as dismal as the exterior. The furniture was old and worn. It was a stark contrast to the warm, welcoming atmosphere of the Burrow, and Harry felt a pang of homesickness or even the feeling of being included, back at Grimmauld place. He missed his godfather.
Snape led Harry upstairs to a narrow hallway. "This is my room, and you have no place even peeking your head through the door, let alone snooping and putting your nose where it doesn't belong, as I'm sure you are accustomed to do. Because if you do, trust me, I will know. And you will not like the consequences. You come knocking on this door only, and only if The Dark Lord himself banged the front door open and invited himself for a tea party with the Girl-who-lived."
Harry inwardly cringed at the title, again. But nodded anyway.
“This will be your room,” he said, gesturing to the half open door at the far end of the hallway.
Harry nodded, too exhausted to protest. He sank onto the bed, feeling the weight of the day’s events pressing down on him.
“Dinner will be ready soon,” Snape said curtly, breaking the silence.
Harry opened his eyes and watched as Snape strode out of the room, his black cloak swirling behind him
Oh he was right. This will be the longest three weeks he ever endured.