LUCY:

My shoulder was hurting again.

I'd left the sling on for too long. I'd grown too dependent on it. Using my arm again after two weeks of barely moving it sent a steady pulse of pain through my shoulder. It had been muted all night, but as I'd been lying in bed staring at the ceiling and as Ginny slept fitfully in the bed across the room from me, it had started throbbing again.

Monster. Monster. Monster.

It started throbbing more as we walked to Mungo's.

Louder came the accusation that accompanied the pain.

Monster. Monster. Monster.

The words on the door. "DANGEROUS" in particular.

Monster. Monster. Monster.

"A werewolf? Is he safe in a public ward? Shouldn't he be in a private room?"

Monster. Monster. Monster.

As I had slipped from the room, Tonks asked if everything was alright. I said yes and that I just wanted to give the family a bit of space and visit a friend of Cedric's. Alastor asked if this had anything to do with the young man in the bed at the end of the room. I had forgotten he could see through walls. I offered a noncommittal shrug and said he was the one who had reminded me of this friend. I could feel their eyes on me as I made my way down the hallway in the direction of Sloane's room, but I could feel the imputation in my shoulder more.

Monster. Monster. Monster.

Sloane heard me coming, so her door opened and I only caught a glimpse of black curly hair before I felt surprisingly strong arms wrap around me.

"Hi there, you," I said, carefully arranging my face into a smile for her before she pulled away.

This smile faded, though, the second I saw her face. There was a scratch on her nose. Not a big one, by any means, but a scratch regardless. A werewolf scratch.

I reached forward and cupped her face. "Oh, darling, what happened?"

She held my hand to her cheek with both of her own, tears gathering in her eyes. "I... I almost hurt someone, and... and then..."

"And then what?" I asked after a moment. When she hesitated, I maneuvered us so we were both in her room and closed the door. "You can tell me anything. I promise."

"You won't be afraid of me?"

I shook my head. "Never."

"O-Or mad at me?"

I shook my head again. "Never."

Sloane inhaled shakily, holding my hand tighter to her face and looking down at the floor. "They sent people in to train with me." The story tumbled from her lips, fast and messy as if she'd been forcibly holding it back, waiting for this moment, waiting for me. "They told everyone I wasn't going to hurt anybody because I had taken wolfsbane, but... but one of them still... he was scared, and he attacked me with something that really hurt, and I was so angry I tried to hurt him back, but then someone knocked me back and I tried to protect my face with my paws and I scratched myself instead." Tears were slipping from her eyes. "Th-They said it was good that I did."

"They?" I asked, fighting to keep the anger from my voice.

"Everyone," she whispered. "Everyone except Jabari. He said I only acted in self-defense, but somebody heard him and got angry with him and — and—"

I didn't let her finish. I pulled her into a hug and stroked her hair as she cried.

"I wanted to tell you," she said, her voice muffled by my jumper, "but I didn't want you to be scared of me the way everyone else is."

"Never." I looked around the room for the first time. It was different. She had been into painting when I was there in October, but the difference over the course of two months was clear. In October, it had been largely shades of yellow and red and blue. Now there was more black, and grey. The incident had clearly rattled her. Still, it was good that she was still painting. It was good that she had an outlet, the way Quidditch was my outlet. I inhaled slowly and did my best to help. "Do you have any new paintings to show me?"

She nodded and pulled away, her eyes lighting up a bit as she pulled out a couple of canvases and began explaining what she had tried to do. Her light was a bit dimmer than it had been in October, though, and the paintings reflected that. I tried not to dwell on it, instead focusing on how her strokes were stronger and more confident.

I didn't stay long, because I wasn't sure how long it would be before everyone noticed I had disappeared, but as I left, I promised I'd come back to see her next time I saw Mr. Weasley. She wanted to walk with me to find everyone, so we navigated the halls until I spotted the Weasleys' familiar red hair, and Harry's familiar black hair.

"Are those your friends?" Sloane asked, a hesitant smile on her face.

I nodded. "Sure are. Do you want to meet everyone?"

"No," she said quickly. Too quickly. "I shouldn't. I'm — I should head back. But I'm glad I got to talk to you." Before I could say anything else, she wrapped her arms around me. "I love you, Lucy."

"I love you too," I whispered back, pulling her a bit closer. "I'll never, ever be afraid of you, no matter what. Remember that, okay?"

Sloane nodded. She found a small smile for me. "Okay. See you soon?"

"See you soon," I agreed. I found a small smile for her, too. As soon as she disappeared around the corner, though, the walls caved back in.

My shoulder started pounding again. Monster. Monster. Monster.

My lack of sleep started catching up with me. Monster. Monster. Monster.

I approached the group slowly, every heavy step making the chant louder and louder.

Monster. Monster. Monster.

"Oh, there you are," George said. "Where'd you go?"

"Went to visit a friend of Cedric's," I replied with a shrug, not meeting anyone's eyes.

Surely everyone had seen the warning on the walls of this floor. Dangerous. I was dangerous. I had always been dangerous. I would always be dangerous.

Not Sloane, though. She had wolfsbane. She had only reacted in self-defense. If that git hadn't hurt her so much, she wouldn't have tried to hurt him, too. She wasn't aware of her own power yet, either, she wouldn't have wanted to really hurt him. I was glad she hadn't hurt anyone only because she would have had to deal with far worse consequences if she had. A tiny, selfish part of me wished she had managed to nick him. Teach him a lesson about what happens when you fear the wrong people.

It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. Sloane had done nothing wrong. She hadn't asked for any of that.

We stood in silence for a couple of minutes before Mrs. Weasley returned. I didn't meet her eyes, either.

My shoulder throbbed in a familiar rhythm of condemnation. Monster. Monster. Monster.

I was aware of little else.

All I wanted was to be alone, but that proved to be impossible. The London streets were crowded, and the train was even more so. Mrs. Weasley asked if I was alright, and I met her eyes for only a second as I lied, nodding. On the walk back to Grimmauld Place, George laid a gentle hand on my shoulder, raising his eyebrows in silent question, and I shook my head and shook him off, focusing my attention on my feet so I didn't trip in my dizzy, tired, lightheaded state. I didn't say much during dinner, and didn't eat much either, so when Mrs. Weasley suggested everyone go to bed early that night, I gladly made my way up the stairs. I grabbed my pajamas and was about to head out to change in the bathroom when Ginny cornered me.

"What's wrong?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

I knew I wouldn't be able to lie to her outright, so I opted for a half-truth. "My shoulder hurts a bit," I said.

Her face softened in understanding. "Alright. Is that why you look so tired, too? Couldn't sleep earlier?"

"Yeah. I'm just going to go change, then try to get a bit of sleep."

"You can change in here," she said with a shrug. "I don't care. I've already seen your shoulder every day for a couple weeks now, so you have nothing to hide."

"Except for the bite that started it all," I whispered.

"I don't care about that either."

I froze. Everyone cares about that. That's what makes me, well, me. That's why I am who I am, why my life is the way it is.

"Look, Mum shouldn't have said what she did," Ginny continued, once again correctly reading my mind. "She just doesn't get it, not the way the rest of us do. I'm sure if you explained to her that you're not dangerous—"

"You saw the same signs she did," I interrupted. "'"Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn Ward: Serious Bites.' The new werewolf was in there."

"Yeah, and so was Dad," she said with a roll of her eyes, "and he's not dangerous just because he was bitten by a bloody snake. That's just referring to the nature of the bites. Dangerous to the bitten, not to the people visiting the people who were bitten."

I had nothing to say to this, so I sighed. "Maybe you're right."

"Maybe I am. You really don't look well, though, so go ahead and change. We can finish this in the morning."

I nodded, too tired to continue, and headed off to the bathroom to change into pajamas. Ginny was already half-asleep by the time I returned, so we exchanged a quiet good night as I crawled into bed. She was asleep within minutes, but even as tired as I was, sleep seemed distant. After several minutes of tossing and turning, I slipped from the room and crept downstairs, parchment and quill in hand.

I was just about to write Cedric a letter about all that had happened that day when I heard something. Footsteps. Heavy breathing. Something being dragged across the carpet in the hallway just outside, heading toward the front door.

I checked the clock. It was minutes before midnight. Odd.

I jumped up to investigate. I froze as soon as I saw who was making all of the noise.

"Harry James Potter, where are you going?"

He stopped and turned to face me, but he kept a firm grip on one handle of his trunk. His eyes were stormy, his face pale. Defeated yet determined. Had he looked like this all day and I missed it?

Harry sighed heavily. "I let you go earlier. You need to let me go now."

Panic seized me, a hot coil of rope suddenly appearing around my chest and neck.

"Let you — what? No." I shook my head and marched forward, grabbing the other handle of his trunk. "No. No no no. I'm not letting you go anywhere." I shook my head. "Don't you dare run away. You're not allowed to run away, you can't do this."

"Why not?"

"It's not fair. It's — it's not fair!"

"What's not fair?"

Harry was maddeningly calm despite my climbing panic.

I huffed, desperation making my eyes sting. "After all of the time I've spent lately trying to convince myself not to run away, you don't get to turn around and do exactly that and expect me to just let you go!"

For the first time, he hesitated. His eyes flashed. "Why would you run away?"

"Because I'm dangerous! I always have been and I always will be, you know this now, you saw—"

"You're not the dangerous one here!"

"What, you think you are? Last I checked—" I switched the trunk handle to my left hand and yanked my collar down with my right hand just far enough to show the extent of the scar on my shoulder. "—you didn't singlehandedly overpower a magical room and do this to yourself."

Harry reached up and massaged the scar on his forehead. "And last I checked, I was the one being possessed by Voldemort, not you!"

"That's why you're running away, is it?"

"Yes. It is. I'm not risking putting anyone else in danger."

"You're not putting anyone in danger, I'm the dangerous one—"

"Lucy, you're not—"

I rolled my eyes. "Right, so what happened during the last full moon wasn't dangerous at all—"

"I don't know what that was, largely because you refuse to talk about anything that happened that week, not the storm, not the ropes, not whatever the boat is—"

"Look, I know I've been distant lately, but—"

"Distant? Distant? This is the most we've talked about anything of any importance in weeks, Lucy—"

"I know—"

"—and I've seen you keeping it all inside, letting it pull you away from everything and everyone." He looked at me for a moment, just looked at me, eyes pained. "You don't understand, Lucy."

"I don't — I don't understand?" I inhaled sharply. Exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled again. Exhaled again. Rapidly. Disbelievingly. "I don't understand?" Tears filled my eyes. They slipped down my cheeks as I shook my head. "Harry, I'm the only one who does understand, that's why you can't leave me, we have to figure this out together!"

Harry blinked.

I didn't wipe my tears. I stood my ground. I locked eyes with him. "I understand. Something happened last night you can't explain. You didn't know who you were, what you were doing, why you were doing it. Then, all of a sudden, you were awake, and sick, and every horrible moment was flashing before you as you realized what had happened. You weren't sure if anything had happened at all, because it felt like a dream, but it was too horrible, too real to ignore. You had to say something, you had to do something." I lifted my chin. "You're upset. You know it wasn't your fault, you know it wasn't really you, but it was at the same time. But no one understands how that feels, because it doesn't make sense. Not until it happens to you." I paused. "Does that sound about right?"

After a moment, Harry nodded. He swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving mine. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with unshed tears. "I'm sorry."

I dropped the trunk and dashed toward him. He dropped the trunk just in time to catch me.

It hit the floor with a definitive thud. Harry wasn't going anywhere.

"Please don't leave me," I whispered, crying into his shoulder. "I need you, Harry."

"I need you too." He pulled me tighter. "Lucy, I'm scared."

"I'm scared too," I admitted. "But not of you. Never of you."

"I've never been scared of you either. And — and don't say I should be. I'm not and I never will be, so stop trying to convince me otherwise."

"O-Okay," I said.

Clear as day, I could see it. The two of us climbing into the boat. Together.

"Getting that upstairs will be a lot harder than getting it downstairs was," Harry muttered in reference to the trunk as he set me down.

Even though I was still crying, I laughed. "How about we just bring it into the sitting room for now? A-And we can just talk?"

He nodded. "I'd — that sounds nice. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," I said, scrubbing at my cheeks with the sleeve of my dressing gown.

We each took a handle and hauled the trunk into the sitting room before landing next to each other on the sofa. It was freezing, so I reached for two nearby blankets and tossed him one.

I felt oddly shy as I looked at Harry. It was as if seeing him for the first time all over again. There was something new in his eyes. Something heartbreakingly familiar. The shared sense of danger. There was something else, too. Hope, maybe.

The vulnerability of the moment made me want to run and hide again, but I couldn't. That wasn't fair to the boy who was looking at me so earnestly.

I knew myself too well. I knew I'd run and hide at the next chance I got. The next time something went south. I couldn't let that happen.

I had to stay in the boat.

I took a deep breath. "I don't want to hide from you anymore, Harry, I — I didn't realize how much it hurts you when I do. I might still try to do that, but I don't want to do it, so — so stop me if you notice it, will you?"

"Alright," he said with a nod. "I-I don't want to keep secrets from you. It doesn't work anyway."

"It's mutual." I managed a small smile. "No more secrets, then? All questions get honest answers?"

"All questions get honest answers," Harry repeated.

My smile grew a bit. "Have you ever played 20 Questions? I think — I think it might help us, well, figure this out."

"I haven't played, but it sounds rather self-explanatory."

I nodded. "Twenty questions, we tell the truth."

"Each, or total?"

"I guess that depends on when we fall asleep. You didn't sleep this morning, did you?"

Harry shook his head. "You didn't either."

Not a question. A statement. I nodded anyway. I didn't ask how he knew.

"You can go first," he offered. "I'm sure you want to know about the Voldemort bit, since you weren't listening on the Extendable Ears."

"So what all did I miss after I — after I left?" I asked softly as I wrapped my blanket around me.

"Well, we stayed a bit longer, and everyone kept trying to guess what Mr. Weasley was doing when it happened. Eventually, Mrs. Weasley kicked us out, so we were listening with Extendable Ears when Mad-Eye said... said I was being possessed by Voldemort."

I was silent for a moment, contemplating. "That doesn't seem quite right to me, because, well, you're not a snake. Ginny actually did everything herself when she was possessed."

"That's what he said," he replied with a shrug.

"You should ask Ginny about it tomorrow. She would be able to help better."

"I don't — you didn't see the way they looked at me, Lucy. They looked scared. I don't want to bring this up with anyone other than you."

"You're going to have to," I said apologetically, "but don't worry about that for tonight. Your turn, to ask a question."

"Where did you go this afternoon, after Mrs. Weasley...?"

"I went to talk to Sloane." I looked down at the blanket, twisting it around my fingers. "A young werewolf girl who lives at St. Mungo's that Cedric befriended."

"What happened?"

"Next round, Potter," I replied with a small smile. "My turn."

"Oh, right, right."

I froze. What did I want to ask Harry?

Harry grinned. "Am I that boring?"

"No," I insisted, blushing, "I'm just that tired." I thought back, all the way back to the first time a bit of a gap formed between us. "You said a couple months ago that you weren't good enough even for the people who do believe you. What did you mean by that?"

"That's... a good question." Harry thought for a second before answering. "It's just that I feel like everyone expects me to be something that I'm not."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Next round."

"Oh, sod off. Alright, alright, your turn."

"What happened with Sloane?"

I shook my head. "She got hurt, too. Not as badly as I did, and it could have been a lot worse, but I still... I wish I could have somehow been there to help stop it."

"I know the feeling."

"What do you mean by everyone expecting you to be something you're not?"

"It's just... everyone who knew my parents expects me to be like my parents. The D.A. expects me to want to talk about Cedric. Umbridge expects me to just sit there and take it all in silence—"

"Well that will never happen," I retorted. "Nor should it. Do I do that to you, Harry?"

He shook his head. "You don't. Ron doesn't." He fixed me with a look. "You know how it feels, don't you?"

I nodded. "I was supposed to be just like Cedric even while he was still around. Without him, it's even worse."

"I don't do that to you, do I?"

I shook my head.

Harry grinned a bit. "So even if we aren't enough for anyone else in the world, we'll be enough for each other."

"Sounds like it," I said, returning a bit of his smile. "You mean that?"

"Of course I do. Lucy, what do you do when you feel... dangerous, I guess? How do you handle it? Because I — obviously, I haven't handled it well."

"I don't know, Harry," I admitted. I looked down. "I don't handle it well, either. Like I said, I... I've felt like running away myself, lately."

"Why didn't you?"

"I didn't want to put everyone through that again." I looked back up. "I still want to run away, I still feel like everyone would be better off and safer without me, but... I've heard about what happened over summer, when I was gone. I don't want to do that to everyone on purpose, no matter how well-intentioned it would be."

Harry nodded slowly. "Alright. Well, for what it's worth, I don't want you to go away."

"I don't want you to go away, either. We need each other."

"We do."

"We'll figure out what to do together." I lost myself in his eyes for a moment, unspoken understanding passing between us. I blinked. "Is it my turn?"

"Well, if that counts as a question, doesn't that make it my turn?"

"Not anymore."

"Oh, bloody hell—"

I laughed. "I think we're both too tired for this."

"No, no, let's keep going," he said, stretching out on the couch and shoving a pillow under his head. "I've missed staying up with you talking about Merlin-knows-what. Ask me a question."

I smirked. "Why?"

He didn't fall for it. "Why not?" He smirked right back. "Your turn again."

"Alright, alright, er, what's your favorite color?"

Harry threw his head back and laughed. "Bloody hell, I don't know. Red, I suppose. What's your favorite color?"

"I'm rather fond of red, too, like a good Gryffindor."

And back and forth we went. We stayed away from the heavy for the rest of the night, instead asking about favorite colors and favorite creatures and favorite candies. By the time we ran out of questions, we were both too exhausted to head back up the stairs. Harry fell asleep first, leaving me with a choice. There was another sofa across the room that would have been perfectly fine, but I was so comfortable where I was. My eyes were so heavy.

For that night, the sofa was our boat. The storm was still raging around us, the waters beneath us were still threatening to pull us under, but we were safer in the boat, together, than we would ever have been on our own in the water. There was a new understanding we both had, something only the two of us could ever truly comprehend. We were in the same storm with similar burdens and complementary fears. We'd tried braving it on our own, but that night, we realized we'd never get anywhere like that. Harry had been thrown out of the boat by Mr. Weasley's attack. I had never been in the boat in the first place, at least not since Cedric died. Neither of us knew what the future had in store for us. We had no guarantee that it would be anything good; in fact, we had plenty of reason to suspect that it wouldn't be. But, even so, by the time we both fell asleep, for the first time since the attack, we were in the boat. Together. Safer. But more importantly, together.

~

Will there come a day when you and I can say
We can finally see each other
Will there come a time when we can find the time
To reach out for one another
We've been travelling in circles such a long, long time
Trying to say hello
And we can just let it ride
But you're someone that I'd like to get to know

I'll meet you halfway
That's better than no way
There must be some way to get it together
And if there's some way
I know that some day
We just might work it out, forever

"I'll Meet You Halfway"
The Partridge Family