Fic: No Hiding Place book Four: The Cupboard Under The Stairs (13/32)

[sua_lay]

Title: No Hiding Place: Book Four: The Cupboard Under the Stairs (13/32)
Author: Rimau Sua Lay
Rating: overall NC-17, Angst, Drama, Action/Adventure, First Time
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Harry/Snape, Ron/Draco, (Sirius/Remus)
Date: December 2002 - ?
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money. Please don't sue. Sherbet Lemon?a
Summary for Book Four: -Before you can go forward, you must face your past. Sins of the father may bury the son. Harry will find out if a dog really is the man's best friend.
Warning: This part contains deaths, gore, mention of het rape, explicit sex between men, disturbing themes, angst and a partridge in a pear tree.

The earlier parts of the fic can be found here.

Part 13

Seeing the house made Ron's mouth fall open.

He hadn't said a word since they left Hogwarts, settling for following Harry and Hermione, listening to their chattering absentmindedly. The new house, Hermione's parents' reaction to her staying with Harry and the others, Remus and Sirius sharing a room downstairs, whatever. It didn't register until the moment they actually stopped in front of the enormous building.

The honest astonishment pierced his consciousness like a knife "This is where you... we live?" It was an old two storey house, just like their little hideaway cottage had been. The similarities ended there. Where the cottage had been small and somewhat shabby, this was almost like a miniature manor.

"Yes. Our little palace." There was a hint of unhappy disbelief in Harry's voice. It would definitely take some time for him to get used to such a place.

He knew he should share Ron's delight and wonder. His own house; a place he could really call home and no one would be able to take it away from him. People he loved, Sirius and Remus and Ron and Hermione. He didn't mind Malfoy's presence. At least with the six of them living together, the place would be filled with sounds of life. It wouldn't be an empty and hollow shell.

It felt really stupid to want more; to resent leaving the dungeons behind. Harry didn't want to be greedy, for there had been a time when he'd had nothing at all. Compared to those years, this was the best thing he could have, and maybe it was selfish to want everything when he already had so much.

Ron blinked. The place was huge. He couldn't believe he was actually going to live there. "Wicked!" It came out quietly, as a formality he had to say. The brief moment of real excitement was already fading into the grey mist.

There were lights on in most of the windows. Sirius was waiting at the hall, standing half hidden by the door, smiling at all three. "Remus is in the living room." He lowered his voice. "He refused to go to bed until you all got home safely." He didn't seem at all surprised to see both Hermione and Ron there.

"Whatever he's telling you, he's lying!" Came the yell from the living room.

Smiling, Harry let Sirius pull him into a brief hug. "Glad you both made it here safely."

"We did." Sirius nodded and then stepped out of the way as Hermione and Ron tried to find a place to leave their shoes in. He fidgeted a little before adding, "The room is great."

Harry smiled slightly. "I thought you and Remus might like it." No matter what was going on in Sirius' head, he wasn't going to pretend those two would need separate rooms. Before there could be any awkward words -- or worse yet, an awkward silence -- he made a gesture at Ron and Hermione. "Come on, let's get you two settled in."

It took a while to tour his friends around the ground floor, both Ron and Hermione making appropriate sounds of awe and Harry managing even a few genuine smiles. The familiar people here were already taking away some of his resentment over what he still considered a ridiculous gesture from the Order.

Hermione was more than happy to stay in the empty room downstairs, casting pleased looks at the large bathroom nextdoors. "This will do just fine!" She put her trunk on the floor before anyone could object.

"Feel free to use the bathroom upstairs if you need to," Harry muttered to Sirius. No matter how smart and balanced Hermione was, she was still a girl, and sometimes it seemed that every girl had a weird attachment to the toilet they used.

Myrtle wasn't the only one who liked to spend forever in the loo.

"Thanks." Planting his hand on Harry's shoulder, Sirius leaned a little closer. "We will."

By mutual agreement, all five Gryffindors stayed downstairs. Harry went through the kitchen cupboards to get them some late dinner.

Swallowing a mouthful of tea, Harry muttered, "So... Malfoy's upstairs then?" He'd already seen the familiar looking shoes in the hallway, but since there was no other trace of him, he had to ask. Ignoring Ron's snort, he kept his eyes on Sirius.

"Yup. He's upstairs." Sirius had been too busy watching the door for Harry to really concentrate on Malfoy; especially since the Slytherin had barely greeted him and Remus before slinking up the stairs.

Harry nodded. "Okay." Refusing to acknowledge the tension practically oozing from Ron, he didn't ask more about Malfoy.

He waited for Sirius to usher Remus to rest and Hermione to disappear into the bathroom before turning back to Ron. "About Malfoy..."

There was a blank look on Ron's face, but he looked so tense Harry was sure he would snap any moment now. Ron took a step back, as if putting distance between him and the whole thing.

Even though Harry's first reaction was to let Ron back away and drop the matter, he couldn't. They had to try to make this work, and the only way to do that was to deal with things. Hiding wasn't an option.

Holding his hand on Ron's arm lightly, he said, "Don't. I spoke with him earlier, and he promised me he's not coming after you. He won't even talk to you unless you talk to him first." He remembered the look in Malfoy's eyes as he'd said that and for the first time, he trusted the Slytherin completely.

"I am not afraid of Draco Malfoy." Ron could feel nothing as he said the words out, not even anger. His chest felt tight, cold. He was not afraid of anything.

Harry looked at him curiously, wondering what the tone was about. He felt a bit strange around Ron, as if Ron was somewhere far away. It had made him feel silly on their way from Hogwarts, his thoughts probably due to an overly active imagination. But it had never been as obvious as now.

He'd thought Ron would be angry. Mad. But he wasn't; he was indifferent. It was crazy.

Maybe it was Ron's way of dealing with everything. Harry shrugged. "Okay. Let me show you to your room then."

Even though there were two vacant rooms upstairs, Harry had no intention of even suggesting that Ron take the one next to Malfoy's. The farther those two stayed from each other the better, and maybe he should have suggested that Ron stayed downstairs with Sirius and Remus. Too late to do that now; Hermione was already settling in and bringing the whole thing up would just make things so much worse.

He watched Ron's face glow with a silly grin as he showed him the large bedroom that would be his. It made him feel slightly better, like maybe now things would get back to normal.

Saying good night to Ron who was still so amazed by his new lodgings that he couldn't really do more than grin some more brought a wan smile to his lips, but a moment later it was chased away by a yawn.

Too tired to really even think, Harry walked into his own room. He wished they could have connected to the floo network as well, so he could go to the fireplace and contact Snape. Just to talk to him, to tell him he was all right.

He was still a bit miffed by the trouble they had to go through every time they needed to talk to someone in Hogwarts, but he knew that open floos would be too dangerous. The people in Hogsmeade were being awfully nice about the whole thing. No one had complained about the shutdown, at least so that he'd hear.

It made everyone's life difficult from now on, he knew that, but he couldn't really concentrate on that now. All he knew was that he would really miss Snape.

Scratching his head, he went to grab his toiletries from his trunk.

Ron had almost a heart attack as he stepped into the bedroom that would now be his. All his. It was huge! Enormous. And the bed was about twice the size the one he'd had in the dormitory.

It was weird to think that he was really going to live here all by himself. His own place.

Grinning, he put his bags on the floor. With a muffled yelp of glee, he rushed to the bed and bounced on it a few times.

This was so great! So damn great! Cool! Wonderful! Excellent! Wicked! Bloody brilliant! He lay on his bed, the grin on his face hurting his jaws, hands squeezed into fists.

He didn't want to think about anything but the house right now. His room, his bed. His life that was looking really good right now. There was nothing wrong with it. Nothing at all.

He'd survived this far with no thoughts about anything unpleasant.

It was late, and he'd been up since dawn, but he didn't feel like going to bed yet. His mind was too full of thoughts, scattering around aimlessly, all screaming for his attention and yet all escaping as soon as he tried to focus on any. He knew he'd just toss and turn if he tried to sleep now.

Ron got up and padded to his trunk. It was probably best if he at least tried to put all his stuff into the wardrobe. He unpacked in silence. Shoved the once again shrunk trunk on the back of a shelf and then closed the wardrobe.

He was still not tired. Didn't feel like taking a shower either, fearing that he'd wake someone up if he started to run water at this hour. Wasn't the room where Sirius and professor Lupin lived right below the bathroom? He couldn't really remember, and didn't want to find out by disturbing them.

Maybe he should go and get a snack. For a brief moment he wondered if he should ask Harry's permission first. Then he shrugged the thought off. Harry had said it was his home too.

Determined not to feel all weird in this very large and probably very expensive house, Ron slipped into the corridor.

It was dark there, and Ron muttered softly, "Lumos."

He looked around, still a bit disoriented. The cottage had been so damn tiny compared to this. Spotting the staircase, he took a step towards it and then froze. He didn't feel hungry after all.

The door to Harry's room was closed, so he didn't think he should go there. His friend had looked awfully tired when they'd come home earlier. Tired and sad. He definitely didn't want to think about that right now.

One of the other doorways was open, leading into an empty room. Sneaking around in silence, Ron went to investigate. It was another bedroom, almost as lavishly decorated as his was.

This place was really insane. Had the Order really bought this just for Harry? What on earth had they been thinking; that he'd live here all alone? It made him shudder. He wouldn't want a place like this just for himself. It would be too much, too overwhelming.

Alienating.

Leaving the empty room, Ron returned to the hallway.

There was one more door; one that was firmly shut. It was somehow mocking him, the wooden frames shaking with silent laughter. He didn't know why it seemed like that, but the door leading to the second bedroom back at the cottage had looked the same.

Ron tried to push the thought away, not really succeeding in it. This was something he had never been able to ignore.

He knew exactly who would be there. Hiding. Harry had said he would not harass him, would not even talk to him unless he wanted him to.

He definitely didn't want that. Never wanted to see Malfoy again, never wanted to hear his voice. Felt almost sick thinking that he would once again have to share the house with him. Wished Malfoy were continents away.

Moving without a thought, he stepped closer to that door.

Anger was a strange thing. It could fill you until you burned, radiated the madness of the rage. It was an all consuming emotion that fed from all the others.

Malfoy.

Ron hated him with everything he was. Hated the sneer, hated the laughter. Hated even the way he had looked like in the cottage those last days, when he'd almost seemed sorry for what he'd done. Hated the brittle pride on his face when he sat there in the Great Hall, the heir of Malfoy all alone.

He took another step towards the closed door.

There had never been anyone else he could hate as much as he hated Malfoy. There would never be anyone.

Malfoy. The name itself made him grimace with disgust.

All those years suffering from Malfoy's taunts and cruel tricks. All those weeks watching him play his sick game.

Games and tricks, that was all he was. Everything about him was rodden. Foul. He and his kind would do nothing but destroy everything they touched.

Ron didn't want to see that. Hated the mere idea of having to watch another game. Maybe the git would live here, but he wasn't going to talk to him ever again. Wouldn't even want to be in the same room with him or see him.

"Alohomora." Barely registering his own voice, Ron stared as the door opened in front of him.

He had no idea what he was doing. Malfoy was the last person he wanted to see, and yet here he was, walking into his room. He wondered if he was cursed somehow, under the imperius, for he couldn't stop.

Draco looked up from the book he'd been reading, his wand ready. He'd been expecting for something like this, but seeing Weasley was still something akin to shock. Especially when there was such a strange expression on his face. Not anger or hatred. Nothing.

He had given Potter his word to stay away from Weasley, and he'd intended to keep his word no matter what, even if it meant he stayed in his room for the time being. At least that had been his excuse to stay here for the evening. It wasn't because he didn't want to face professor Lupin whose secret he'd once spread around the school or Sirius Black who seemed like a normal person until you looked into his eyes.

The day had already been full of tension and surprises with Blaise's grinning face greeting him across the table and Dumbledore clearly bringing Harry to the limelight, but this was something he couldn't just watch. Staying in shadows wasn't an option here.

"Weasley."

The word sounded loud in Ron's ears, even though it was muttered quietly. Ron could only stare. His wand was back under his robes, and he could see Malfoy put his down on the small table.

So now he wasn't even worth being afraid of. He wanted to laugh, but couldn't.

His lips moved slowly, as if not sure of how to form the word. "Malfoy." He felt like he was in a dream, under water.

It was such a familiar feeling.

For days now, it had been a constant companion; muffling everything real. The only thing keeping him whole, keeping him from falling apart.

Surrounding himself in a calm shell that didn't let anything past it, Ron had lived through hell. Stayed by Charlie's bedside when Bill had fallen asleep after his attempts to break the last curses. Made sandwiches for Ginny when his mother had been too exhausted to cook. Listened to George's feeble jokes as if they were indeed funny.

He had never faltered, never let go of what he used to be. His world had fallen apart in one single moment, but he refused to let go of the shards, knowing he would crumble into nothing if he did.

It was now suddenly like walking on thin ice. The shell cracking, the unnamed, unbearable choking emotion fighting to get out, oozing through the cracks like some kind of a dark creature, almost suffocating him.

Putting the book down, Draco stood up. He had no idea why Weasley would be here, had no idea what to say to him. Not only did he feel bound by his promise to Potter, but the guilt over what his father had done had all but drowned the desire to make nasty comments or the even simpler desire for Weasley's body.

He simply waited for Weasley to say something, prepared to face any accusations he might want to make.

The taste of bile rising to his mouth, Ron stared at Malfoy. He hated the hesitation, the completely blank look on him. The familiar sneer would have been so much easier to face.

Draco didn't say anything. He simply stood there.

A soft growl escaped Ron. He didn't know what to do. He hated everything so much right now and nothing was right in the world. Everything had turned into ashes, and he needed a lifeline, something he could depend on.

He didn't even have to think about it. His hand was already squeezing into a fist. It wasn't at all difficult to swing it.

The sound of his knuckles hitting Malfoy's chin was surprisingly loud in the small room. A dull ache spread over his hand, but he couldn't really feel it. His world was a whirlwind of chaos and pain deeper than that of the flesh.

There was no anger in Draco's eyes. He raised his fingers to touch his bruised mouth before nodding slightly. Then he slammed his own fist into Ron's face. No guilt could stop that, after all, he had a promise to keep.

A rivulet of blood ran down from the corner of Ron's mouth.

"You hit me?" Ron didn't really recognize his own voice. How could he sound so damn fragile? He repeated, "You hit me," unable to know if it was a question or a plea.

"Yes." Draco nodded.

There was a moment of silence. Then a soft whisper, "I hate you."

"Yes."

Later on, neither of them could tell which one had taken the first step. Suddenly, Ron was holding the front of Malfoy's robes in his fists and Draco's fingers were buried in his hair. Pulling each other close, they met in a kiss that was nothing like a gentle caress.

Ron was completely lost with his world falling apart, and this burning sensation was the only glimpse of reality he could find. Nothing felt like this, not the sad atmosphere back home, not the solemn Order meeting. Not his friends. Muttering, "Fuck!" as his knees gave in, he pulled Malfoy down to the floor with him.

He felt his robes tear, but didn't care. Instead he took a good hold on Malfoy's robes and returned the favor. The hands on his body were moving softly, gently but he wanted none of that. Squeezing Malfoy's arms so hard it had to hurt, he pulled him closer to a violent, bruising kiss.

"Weasley..." Draco growled. He lifted his head a little to look into his eyes, stunned by what he saw there.

Rage and fear mingled with desperate need. It was more than lust or desire. Those could easily be denied. Not this. He kissed Weasley again, possessing his mouth. He could taste a hint of something sweet like strawberry jam, tea and then blood as he nipped his lips.

The sound escaping Ron was hoarse.

He clawed at Malfoy's robes, his fingers grasping the expensive material and ripping it. Feeling elated at the thought of distroying something that had probably cost more than all the clothes he'd ever owned together, he reached out again. Then he was lost, feeling only warm skin under his touch.

Ignoring the sounds of tearing cloth, Draco pushed at Weasley, rolling him on his back. Mouth still on his, he started to push his robes off. When after minutes of struggle he was still clothed, he decided that for once, Weasley had made a good decision and tore the robes off as well.

Bits of black cloth flew across the room as both tried to get rid of the robes, tearing into fabric and skin alike. Draco was more familiar with this kind of foreplay and he didn't even try to get Weasley naked. No need for that now. As long as there was plenty of naked skin for him to play with and certain body parts at hand, he was happy.

"Oh.... fuck..." Thumping his head against the floor, Ron closed his eyes as those damn clever fingers wormed inside his trousers, grasping him in a firm grip.

The sound coming from Malfoy closely resembled laughter. Eyes snapping open, Ron could see wonder on his face. It almost made him want to punch him again. Instead of letting the rage rule over the desperate lust, he simply ripped Malfoy's tailored trousers into shreds.

It was complete madness, everything else fading away as the hunger grew inside him. He didn't flinch back as he felt Malfoy's hard prick, curling his fingers around it. It felt strangely alien and familiar at the same time, hot and hard, alive in his hand.

Ron could feel Malfoy's hand move on him, the slow tight grip making his hips roll upwards. He couldn't do anything but lie here, burying himself into that touch.

Lips touched his again. Softly, then with force. He could feel teeth nipping him again, and he groaned into that mix of pain and pleasure.

Everything was like that. So awful. So glorious. Ron couldn't focus on anything but Malfoy's touch, his own arms moving to wrap around Malfoy's back, fingers clawing at the soft skin.

The frantic touches were answered by others. Letting go of his prick after one last squeeze, Malfoy kept kissing his lips, his jaw, nipping the side of his throat. The loss of touch made Ron gasp out curses, but the way Malfoy was so clearly moving back towards what really mattered made him silent again.

Torn cloth got in Draco's way, but he didn't care. He let his lips and fingers brush against every bit of naked skin he could reach as he slithered down Weasley's body.

There were red marks forming on Ron's chest, small wounds from scraping fingernails, bruises that were shaped like handprints. Malfoy let his gaze slide over those marks to meet Ron's glazed eyes. Slowly, he lowered his head to take his prick into his mouth.

Ron closed his eyes, banging his head back against the floor again. This was familiar, the wet heat surrounding him.

He'd be glad to drown there. Without even thinking what he was doing, he grabbed those sweaty strands of blond hair and guided Malfoy to take him in deeper.

The world was such a simple place, existing only in lips that moved up and down his prick. There was nothing else, no thoughts, no touches. So hot, soft, the tongue twirling against his skin, making him let out soft whimpers that vanished into the nothingness surrounding him.

Lifting his hips, Ron tightened his hold on Malfoy's hair. It wasn't enough. The slow steady rhythm was making him lose his mind. He needed more, needed it now, and his fingers hurt from holding Malfoy's hair so hard.

The fingers playing on the base of his prick, cupping his balls, moved to touch him higher, disappearing into Malfoy's mouth alongside his hardness. Ron didn't have time to even wonder what they were doing before they were moving again, down this time.

His eyes opened wide at the first hesitant touch. The moan escaping him came out without words, even though his mind yelled 'No!' The hesitation lasted only for a moment. Then the touch firmed, pressed against him harder and slipped in.

Ron panted out his breaths, completely shocked. Malfoy was pushing a finger up his arse? The touch moved away and then returned. Oh, fuck, yes he was.

The touch sent shivers up his spine. His mind was screaming that it was wrong, degrading, and he shouldn't let Malfoy do anything like that. It was taking something away from him, leaving him utterly empty.

Draco planted a few kisses on Weasley's thigh as he heard a keening wail echo in the room. He paused for a moment and then bit down on the place he'd kissed, enjoying the way Weasley made another desperate sound. It didn't sound anything like the word stop. Or no.

He didn't know if this was lust or desperation or insanity, and quite frankly, he didn't care. Not right now.

Biting Weasley's inner thigh again, he pushed another saliva coated finger in. It didn't matter that the grip on his hair tightened even more. They both needed this.

Ron squirmed, not knowing if he was trying to escape or invite Malfoy in deeper. The mouth that was nibbling its way back to his groin was maddeningly clever, agonizingly slow on its journey. He wanted to thrust back into that wet cavern, at the same time needing to move against the invading touch that was stretching and even painful, especially when it moved. Just. Like. That.

He groaned when the pain lanced through him again. It was insane, his whole body was on fire with a mixture of pain and pleasure, but he reveled in the sensations, 'cause he could feel. He even welcomed the agony.

Some small part of his mind was screaming at him, ordering him to stop this right now. He didn't want this. Didn't want to do this with Malfoy of all people. He couldn't stop even if he wanted to.

When Malfoy slithered back up his body, he knew what would come. He reveled in the thought even though it froze him. It was wrong and disgusting, but he couldn't help craving that; to be so completely possessed by someone.

He looked up at Malfoy, wishing he could see the usual sneer instead of the rather hazy look in the grey eyes. "Malfoy..." Moving out of control now, he spread his legs and pulled him closer. He hated himself for it, but would hate Malfoy even more when this was all over.

Draco felt the strong thighs squeeze him tight and thrust against Weasley. He didn't know what he expected from him, but wasn't about to do anything but what he was already doing. He was tempted, sorely tempted, but Potter -- not to mention his godfather, Remus Lupin, Granger, all the older Weasleys and probably Snape as well -- would kill him if he took such advantage of him now.

And damn it all, he would do it right now. He'd push Weasley's legs even wider and then sink into that tightness. He would claim him and shag him until he screamed. If only Weasley would ask him with plain words and he had lubricant or even some hand cream potion. If only he wasn't about to come in a few seconds anyway.

"Yes..." Thrusting again, he grabbed a hold on Weasley's hair and yanked his head back. Keeping the grip tight, he lowered his head to kiss his throat. Then he bit down. Hard.

Howling, Ron arched into the bite. He couldn't stop the noises escaping him as Malfoy bit him again, rubbing his prick against his. Fingernails leaving bloody trails on Malfoy's back, he pushed up, trying to get as close to him as possible.

Another bite on the soft side of his throat and Ron convulsed, coming hard. He didn't scream, only strangled whimpers escaped him.

He lay there, completely still. He barely even registered the way Malfoy thrust against him. World was once again blurring around the edges, almost as if he was drifting away. Far away again.

"Oh, fuck, Weasley." Groaning the name out, Draco came. Riding the waves of ecstacy, he held onto the redhead, mumbling incoherent words. Still breathing hard, he slumped on Ron, planting a soft kiss on the reddened skin of his throat.

That gentle touch brought the world crashing down on Ron.

He lay still for a moment, cringing as Malfoy's exhales tickled his neck. For the first time, he really registered the hardness of the floor beneath him and the warmth on top of him. The cooling wetness squashed between him and Malfoy, the bare, sweaty skin against his.

Rolling over, he shoved Malfoy away from him. This couldn't be real! He couldn't have! There was no fucking way in hell he could have done this right now!

"What is it?" The post orgasmic lassitude was already spreading through Draco, and the way he'd been rudely dumped on his arse was a very unwelcome awakening. "Are you all right, Weasley?"

The way Malfoy was actually nice made Ron gag. He couldn't say anything, for the only answer to the question would be no. It would probably come out as a scream.

He scrambled to his feet, not able to take his gaze away from Malfoy. The remains of his robes fell on the floor, but he didn't care. He saw the way Malfoy was about to say something else and turned around and ran.

Stumbling out of the room, Ron looked around the hallway like a wild animal in panic. He needed to run somewhere, needed to escape. Nothing else mattered.

"Ron?" Harry asked, peeking from his room. He'd heard the noise coming from Malfoy's room and wondered if he'd heard correctly.

He didn't have to wonder now as he saw Ron stagger to the hallway half naked.

It was shocking to realize that his friend had actually shagged Malfoy now, after all the fighting. After what Malfoy's father had done to his family. Seeing the lost expression on Ron's face made Harry shiver. He'd never seen him like this. "Hey, Ron? Is everything all right?"

The only answer he got was a broken sob. Ron looked like he was going to collapse any moment. As Harry took a hesitant step forward, he sank down on the floor, crawling down the hall on his hands and knees as if unable to stop.

Harry followed Ron, kneeling next to him and holding him tight as he started to cry. He could feel the cold clamminess of Ron's skin, the scent of sex and sweat almost overpowering him. It didn't matter. This was the first time he'd seen Ron show such naked emotion and he couldn't help wondering if he'd allowed himself to cry after they'd come back from the cottage.

He was certain Ron couldn't even hear the questions he murmured out quietly, but it didn't matter. Grieving like this had to be better than not really being fully here.

Footsteps echoed in the staircase. Hermione hesitated as she saw the strange sight in front of her, mouth opening as the open door to Malfoy's room revealed just what had happened. "Harry?"

Mouthing, "It's all right," Harry shook his head, keeping his gaze on Hermione. He didn't think she could really help now.

He didn't know what exactly had happened, but after hearing the sounds coming from Malfoy's room, he could make a few educated guesses. He wasn't going to say anything until he knew more. The way Ron had clearly gone to see Malfoy and not the other way around meant something.

Hermione seemed to understand, even though she didn't look too happy about it. She tried to offer him a slight smile that ended up looking more like a grimace. Then she turned around and promptly stumbled onto Remus Lupin who was leaning heavily against the railing as he was climbing up the stairs.

"I think it would be best if you went to bed." His voice was quiet, but the words came out firmly. Seeing the relieved look on Hermione's face, he added, "Both of you."

"I..." Harry started to protest, but then realized he wasn't sure he could help either.

He didn't know what to do or say. The grief so evident in Ron was too overwhelming, it would grab a hold of him and take him away as well. It would do no good to either of them.

Remus walked closer to them, his gait slower than usual, as if he was still recovering from the after effects of the full moon even though it had been days ago. He looked determined to deal with this. "I will take care of him." He cast a look at the open doorway through which he could clearly see Draco Malfoy standing in the middle of his bedroom, looking uncharactristically lost. "I'll take care of them both."

"Okay." It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but eventually Harry was able to let go of Ron. He hated leaving him like this, but knew he didn't really have a choice.

He trusted Remus' opinion on this.

Waiting long enough to see Remus put his hand on Ron's shoulder, Harry went to his room. He closed the door firmly behind him and then sagged against it, suddenly exhausted.

How the hell could things turn like this again? Everything was already so damn miserable and now this. They had all suffered, were all broken, and now they had to carry each other through all this pain. It made him feel so damn empty inside.

Glad he'd already been through his evening routines in the bathroom, Harry shrugged off his robe and dropped it on the floor. His trousers followed. Not bothering to actually pick them up, he crawled into bed.

Eyes closed, he simply waited.

There were sounds coming from the other side of the wall. Harry couldn't hear any words, but recognized the cadence of Remus' voice, the calm and measured tones he had used years ago in Hogwarts. He was glad he couldn't hear any words, he couldn't handle them right now.

When he heard Ron's voice raise up in a keening wail, he grabbed his wand and cast a silencing charm around his bed. All sounds were cut immediately, and he was wrapped in a quiet cocoon. It was probably at least a bit dangerous to shut himself off the rest of the world like this, but right now it was better than listening to Ron.

Waving his wand again, Harry surrounded himself in darkness. He closed his eyes and tried to get a good position on the bed.

He hated the silence, not used to it. The only time in his life he hadn't heard the sounds of other people breathing in the room during the night time had been when he had been living at Privet Drive. Sleeping alone in his cupboard or in Dudley's second bedroom had been filled with a kind of relief and loneliness, and now all that remained was the sad feeling of missing company. Missing the other Gryffindors, missing Snape.

Harry sighed. Everything had changed once again, and in his opinion to the worse. The battles were still ahead of them, but they were already scarred, all of them. He had to wonder if any of them would live through this war even relatively sane. If they indeed survived.

Probably. No matter how bad things looked, most people would manage to pull through. Like those who had fought the first war against Voldemort. None had got away from it unscathed, but they could deal with most of the things life threw at them. Some with more help than others, but they managed.

Falling asleep felt as distant as on most nights when he'd ended up walking through the corridors at Hogwarts, but he refused to remove the silencing charm and get up. This was his life now; his responsibility to be able to deal with things even if that meant giving the unpleasant duties to someone else. Remus would deal with Ron and Malfoy and tomorrow, he'd talk to his friends.

Harry pulled the blanket tighter around him. His first night in this bed, his bed, in his own house. It felt strange, and foreign, and so unbelievably empty.

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