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Deeds and their consequences	By : GothVamp Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1866 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter three: Pictures of you
~ I've been looking so long at these pictures of you
That I almost believe that they're real
I've been living so long with my pictures of you
That I almost believe that the pictures are
All I can feel
[�]

You were angels
So much more than everything
Hold for the last time then slip away quietly
Open my eyes
But I never see anything ~

(Pictures of you, The Cure)

It was Hermione�s turn to spend the afternoon with him when he finally came by. She was reading the Prophet when he opened his eyes. It took her some time to notice the change, but when she did, she flung herself around his neck and hugged him, while her tears were making his cushion wet.
�Harry finally, you�re awake! Wait �till I tell the others. Everyone has been so worried.� She sat back in her chair and wiped away her tears. Realising how quiet Harry had been she started to get worried. �Harry? How do you feel? Say something.�
�Why am I not dead?� His voice came unnaturally hoarse out of his throat, because it hadn�t been used for a month. He looked very pale and his normally extremely bright eyes were dull.
�You were only in a coma Harry. Your fight with Voldermort had drained you of your energy, but you didn�t sustain any permanent injuries.�
�Oh.� He closed his eyes and sighed.
�Is it�� Hermione swallowed hard. Then she took hold of his hand and he looked at her again. ��is it what you wanted? To die?�
�Yes.� Just a simple yes, no explanation, not the slightest disagreement.
�But why? Why Harry?�
�I am the bringer of death. That�s what I was destined to be from the moment I was born. I need love to be able to kill.�
�I don�t understand��
�My mother, she died to save me. She sacrificed her love and that gave me power to survive and defeat Voldermort. But it was not enough. It could have been if I hadn�t been so stupid to get caught by Voldermort and help him gain power. Now her death was not enough anymore. Someone else had to die. Sirius. His love helped me to kill. Everyone who had loved me, really loved me, had to sacrifice themselves for me. I�ve fulfilled the prophecy. Why can�t I find peace?�
Hermione started to cry again. �Harry listen to me. What you�re saying doesn�t make any sense. But I know you believe it now, so I won�t try to change your mind. Even if what you say is true, don�t you think that the prise, how high it may be, was worth it? Think of all the people you have saved! Of all the friends you still have left. People that are happy and celebrating now instead of fighting and dying.�
�Does it matter?�
�How can you say that?!�
Harry sat up and looked his friend deep in the eyes. �What if you were me and Ron was Sirius? Would it all matter to you still?�
Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but closed it without emitting a word. She and Ron had been together since summer. They had decided that it was foolish to dance around each other when both of them could die any day and admitted their feelings for each other. They were so close that Hermione couldn�t even imagine losing him. �But I lo�,� but before she could finish the sentence the realisation fully downed. Tears started to run down her face again. Harry turned away from her and closed his eyes.
***
The afternoon and the following day were filled with people who came to congratulate Harry and wish him well. He answered with short and polite answers and faked a smile, but didn�t engage in any real conversation. His physical health was improving rapidly. Within three days he was transported to the Hogwarts� Infirmary. After a week there he was declared healthy and was allowed to leave. The day before his release Dumbledore came to ask him what he wanted to do with the rest of the year. Harry answered that he needed rest to think things over and adjust to the new situation. He asked if he could have his own room. Though Dumbledore didn�t approve Harry isolating himself from everyone, he couldn�t refuse. After all, he had given Hermione and Ron an room of their own too, though that was more due to the fact that otherwise they would sneak out of their dorm every night to meet each other.
So Harry got a room of his own and he immediately moved in. At first he still came to the Great Hall for breakfast and dinner and other pupils occasionally spotted him in the halls or the library. But as the days passed, he remained more and more often in his room. He didn�t even get out to eat so Hermione or Dobby had to bring him food. Other people were visiting him less and less. Some, like Ron, just had no idea what to do or what to say to him. Others were too preoccupied with their own lives and, as Harry wouldn�t even start or maintain a conversation, just decided to give up on him.

Some were afraid.

Harry and especially his room gave them the creeps. It had an aura of a tomb or a grim temple. The curtains were always drawn, there was no light except for some candles that were strategically placed under the photographs that covered all the walls in the room. Pictures of Harry�s dead godfather. Sirius at school, Sirius at the Potter�s wedding, Sirius with the first Order, a picture of an unknown second year student on the platform nine and three quarters at the beginning of Harry�s fifth year with Padfoot on the background, and Harry�s favourite: a picture that was taken at the Grimmauld�s place. Arthur had found a very old muggle camera and had been ecstatic that the thing still worked. He proceeded to take pictures of everyone in the house, annoying the hell out of Molly.

The picture was black and white and not very sharp. Sirius wasn�t looking directly into the lens, but at some non existent point behind it, lost in deep thoughts. Harry used to stare at that particular photo for hours, searching for answers, trying to understand his godfather�s soul, his secrets, his whole being. He was also trying to understand his own feelings and needs, but the picture was nothing more than a picture and it didn�t hold any answers. So he just kept staring, lost in his own little world he had created.
That was the way Hermione would find him everyday. It had been three months already since he got out of coma and there wasn�t much difference between his comatose and his current state. Hermione was afraid that he would never come out of it, but she stubbornly refused to give up her everyday effort to try and get him to talk or to come out of his room or to at least eat.
It was nine PM and she was walking down the hall with Harry�s dinner. She opened his door and was about to say hello, when she noticed that something was wrong.
Harry�s bed was empty�
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Deeds and their consequences