“Harry, you have to eat,” Hermione said gently putting her hand over Harry's ice-cold one.

“Yeah mate,” Ron said somberly.

Harry nodded at his friends; a hollow look in his red-rimmed, glassy eyes. He squelched down a stab of annoyance at his cloying friends; they were only concerned about him after all. The last thing that he felt like doing, was eating, but he made an effort to eat to alleviate his friends' concern.

With each chew of his scrambled eggs, the stabbing sensation in his head blossomed, until he clenched his eyes shut, as they had begun to water from the blinding pain. Nightmares had become a nightly occurrence, and last night had been no exception. Night after night, Harry dreamt in full living colour, of Sirius falling through the veil; the look of shock and horror, as his godfather fell backwards into the folds of the wispy fabric.

Harry's throat felt like sandpaper as he swallowed the lump of eggs, and he could feel his stomach burn painfully, with grief.

Hermione and Ron exchanged concerned looks.

Harry jumped up suddenly; his fork clattering on his plate of half-eaten breakfast. “I'll see you guys later,” Harry choked, as he hurried out the door.

Hermione's eyes crinkled in concern. “Do you think that he's going to be alright? I mean...going to his relatives and all?”

Ron scratched his head, and cocked an eyebrow. “Well, he's not okay there at the best of times, now is he?”

“No,” Hermione said softly. “I suppose that he's not.”

“Mum said that she tried to convince Dumbledore to let him come to the Burrow this summer, but he told her that he had other plans for Harry.”

Hermione's eyebrows lifted to her fringe.

“Yeah, I know...kind of vague isn't it? I wonder what he means by that.”

“I don't know, but I certainly hope that Professor Dumbledore knows what he's doing. I don't imagine that Harry can handle much more.”

Ron's eyes widened. “You don't think that he'd do anything crazy, do you? He's been acting really odd since Sirius died.”

“Well, he's been through a very traumatic experience, hasn't he? It's normal that he'd be withdrawn and not like normal,” Hermione reasoned.

She dabbed at her mouth daintily, with her napkin. “We just have to be patient, and let him know that we're there for him when he's ready to talk.”

Ron shook his head. “I don't know Hermione. I think there's more to it than that. I know that he's grieving, but I just get the feeling that he's keeping something from us--Something important...

----------

Harry sat on the edge of his bed; the curtains drawn around to ensure his privacy. The dorm and Common Room was swarming with students, who were hastily packing their trunks and saying their last goodbyes. The carriages would arrive shortly to take them to Hogsmeade to get the train. Everyone was looking forward to returning home. Everyone except Harry...

The edge of the broken mirror dug into the palm of his hand, but he felt no pain. He couldn't even release the tears that were locked inside of him, because he felt numb. He wondered if he would ever feel anything ever again.

There was of course the ever-present lump in his throat, and the hollow place in his chest, where his heart used to be. There were just so much that he'd wanted to say to Sirius; so much that he wanted to do with him. Now...the chance was gone forever.

He was alone again. Why did it always come down to that? Harry knew that he couldn't run away from his responsibilities; hell...he was almost born to bear the burden of the world, wasn't he? He wasn't trying to feel sorry for himself, but reality was staring him in the face. The prophecy was clear...

All Harry had ever wanted was to belong; to be normal. All he'd ever desired was someone to love and care for him and lean on. Yes, he had his friends, and they were great. He had Hogwarts; his first home, and the first place he truly ever belonged, but he wondered what it was like to have parents; to have an adult that he could really trust to do what was best for him.

Harry felt the familiar bitterness rise up, like a vile taste in his mouth, whenever he thought of Dumbledore's behaviour this past year. Yes...the man had apologised, and explained why it was necessary to keep his distance, but Harry couldn't help the resentment wash over him again. He felt a little twinge of guilt when he thought of the way that he had trashed Dumbledore's office, but he couldn't truly regret his actions. If the man had only explained; if he'd only been honest with Harry...trusted him. And then there was Snape...

Harry had the strongest desire to break something; just the thought of how the greasy git had taunted Sirius, had basically dared him to leave the protection of Grimauld Place, made Harry's blood boil. It was bad enough that the man had made his life unbearable for the past five years; used every opportunity to debase him, humiliate him, and his dad, but what he'd done to Sirius was unforgivable.

Harry pressed the broken mirror to his chest, and tried to force the tears to flow. He felt as though if he didn't cry; if he didn't release some of the grief he was feeling, that somehow he was dishonoring the memory of his godfather. But the tears refused to flow.

“Harry,” Ron's voice broke through his tortured thoughts.

Harry shoved the mirror back into his trunk quickly, and slid open the heavy maroon drapes, that offered somewhat of a barrier between him and the world.

“The carriages are here. You coming?”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and stood up. “Yeah,” he said softly.

-------

“You mean to tell me that, that pathetic mediocre excuse for a human being, is the saviour of the wizarding world?” Severus sneered.

“Severus!” Dumbledore admonished. “If only you'd let go of hatred and see who the boy really is-”

“The boy is a spoilt, selfish replica of his father,” Severus spat. “Nothing you could say or do, can convince me otherwise.”

Dumbledore's eyes flashed dangerously. “The animosity between you and Harry is causing grave consequences to our cause Severus. If you cannot, or will not put your differences aside, then I fear that all our hard work has been for naught.”

Severus rose and went to the window. He stared with unseeing eyes at the carpet of green that stretched out for miles, meeting the high peaks of the Scottish highlands, and the clear blue sky, that was unmarred, but for a few wispy clouds that shone with the sunlight streaming through. He knew that like it or not, the Headmaster would have his way, and he'd be yet another pawn in the man's grand plan. He had truly carved out his own destiny, hadn't he, when he'd revealed the contents of the prophecy to the Dark Lord. Of course, he hadn't known at the time, just how his selfish actions would result in the death of his one true love; his best friend...Lily.

No matter how much he put his life on the line, no matter how often he saved the sorry hide of her son; Potter's son, Severus knew that he would never make up for what he'd done; he would never be truly free. And as much as he loathed the boy, he knew that he was responsible for the boy being an orphan and perhaps this was one more sacrifice that he had to make to make retribution for his sins.

“Very well Albus. You have won, as you knew you would. Against every fiber of my being, against all my good judgment,” he spun around to fix the Headmaster with his gleaming obsidian eyes, “and against my deepest reservations, I will bend to your will—once again. I will do what you ask.”

A smile lit up Albus' lined face.

“Thank you Severus. Lily would be so pleased.”