HARRY:

It was a relief to be able to head down to Quidditch practice that night. Hermione had been on edge ever since the lunch conversation, and when she was on edge, Ron was on edge, and when Ron was on edge, I was on edge. But Quidditch was the best release in the world, as far as I was concerned, even in the rain, so I felt lighter than I had in several days as I headed down to the Pitch. Lucy was back, Quidditch was back, and that was enough for that moment.

When we walked into the changing room, Fred and George were in the middle of a whispered debate.

"-but I bet she'd know what we'd done. If only I hadn't offered to sell her some Puking Pastilles yesterday..."

"We could try the Fever Fudge, no one's seen that yet-"

"Does it work?" Ron asked.

Fred nodded. "Well, yeah, your temperature'll go right up-"

"-but you get these massive pus-filled boils too, and we haven't worked out how to get rid of them yet," George finished.

"I can't see any boils," Ron said.

"No, well, you wouldn't, they're not in a place we generally display to the public," Fred muttered.

George grinned dryly. "They do make sitting on a broom a right pain in the-"

Angelina entered the room before he could go on. "Alright, everyone, listen up! I know it's not ideal weather, but there's a good chance we'll be playing Slytherin in conditions like this so it's a good idea to work out how we're going to cope with them. Harry, didn't you do something to your glasses to stop the rain fogging them up when we played Hufflepuff in that storm?"

I nodded and pulled out my wand, tapping my glasses. "Hermione did it. Impervius!"

"I think we all ought to try that, if we could just keep the rain off our faces it would really help visibility," Angelina said. "All together, come on — Impervius! Okay. Let's go."

All properly Impervius-ed, we headed out onto the Pitch in the pouring rain.

I knew it would be nearly impossible to see the Snitch in the downpour, but I did my best anyway. Even in the dark and the cold and the wind, I felt so much better in the sky. It was as if the problems on the ground couldn't touch me when I wasn't actually on the ground. That's why my first thought the night Lucy realized Malfoy knew about her, well, everything was to grab our brooms and a Quaffle and take to the sky. I thought — no, I knew — Lucy was the same way. That's why I was so concerned when all of a sudden she looked down and panicked. That had never, ever happened before. I'd seen her shoot up into the sky, I'd seen her nose-dive to the ground, Lucy wasn't afraid of flying, she couldn't be. Afraid of falling, though... I reckoned that might explain everything.

After about an hour of trying to practice, Angelina decided enough was enough.

I removed my glasses to towel off my face and attempt to dry my hair. Suddenly, my scar seared with pain, and I couldn't hold back the "OUCH!" that escaped me.

"What's up?" a number of people asked at once.

I slipped my glasses back on and glanced meaningfully at Ron. "Er, nothing, I just... poked myself in the eye, that's all."

"Wish that was my biggest problem," Fred muttered as everyone returned to their own business. "I think a few of mine have ruptured."

George grimaced. "Mine haven't. They're throbbing like mad and feel bigger if anything."

"Lovely," Ron remarked. "Say, Harry, have I shown you yet the new polish job on my broom?"

"Not yet," I replied, and the two of us pretended to look at his broom until everyone left.

"What happened? Was it your scar?" he asked the second we were alone.

"But he — he can't be near us now, can he?"

I lowered myself onto a bench and kneaded my forehead with my cold fingers. "No. He's probably miles away. It hurt because... he's... angry."

I froze. How did I know that? I hadn't meant to say it, it had just slipped out, yet I knew it was true.

"Did you see him? Did you... get a vision, or something?"

I let my mind wander freely, explore the aftermath of the searing pain. "He wants something done, and it's not happening fast enough."

"But... how do you know?"

I pressed my fists to my eyes instead of answering. The pain was subsiding, but it still pressed up against my skull.

Ron settled beside me on the bench. "Is this what it was about last time? When your scar hurt when Umbridge touched you? You-Know-Who was angry?"

I shook my head.

"What is it, then?"

I let my mind wander back to that night. I was furious, about Lucy having to have detention again for something she didn't even do because of Malfoy, but he... was happy.

"Last time, it was because he was pleased. Really pleased. He thought... something good was going to happen. And when it hurt over summer-" I felt as if I'd been struck across the face. "He was laughing because Lucy had been kidnapped and he had killed her parents."

"You could take over from Trelawney, mate," he said after a moment of stunned silence.

"I'm not making prophecies," I replied, shaking my head.

"No, you know what you're doing? Harry, you're reading You-Know-Who's mind."

"No, it's more like... his mood, I suppose. I'm just getting flashes of what mood he's in. Dumbledore said something like this was happening last year, he said that when Voldemort was near me, or when he was feeling hatred, I could tell. Well, now I'm feeling it when he's pleased too."

"You've got to tell someone."

"I told Sirius last time."

"Well, tell him about this time!"

"Can't, can I? Umbridge is watching the owls and the fires, remember?"

"Well then, Dumbledore-"

I shook my head and rose to my feet. "I've just told you, he already knows. There's no point telling him again."

"Dumbledore'd want to know."

I shrugged in response.

"What about Lucy?" Ron asked.

"What about her?"

"Does she know?"

I paused. "Not exactly. Sort of, but... no, not really."

"She'd want to know."

"She'd want to know I can sense the mood of the wizard who killed her whole family? I don't think so. I might tell Hermione, but... not Lucy. I can't..." I shook my head. "I can't hurt her like that, not when I'm supposed to be the one helping her."

"She'd want to know," he said again, more gently.

"And I'd rather not lose her as a friend," I snapped. "She would think I'm an absolute monster for having this- this connection, or whatever the hell it is." Ron was silent for a moment, and I brought my eyes to his. "What?"

"D'you remember that night second year when we were talking about Hagrid and the Chamber of Secrets?"

I nodded. "Of course I do. I'd never seen Lucy so upset before."

"D'you remember why she was so upset?"

"Because we all thought it was Hagrid?"

"Well, yes, but do you remember what specifically set her off? I've only just remembered, because of what you said."

"What was it?" I asked, mildly annoyed.

"Hermione used the word monster," he replied. He sighed, flattening his mouth into a line as he folded his arms over his chest. "Hermione was the only one who knew at the time. No wonder it set her off. Anyway, I don't think Lucy would think you're a monster, Harry, and even if she did... she wouldn't think you're the only monster."

"But that's ridiculous, she's not a monster no matter what she or anyone else thinks."

Ron didn't say anything else, but he didn't have to. I sighed, and the two of us headed up to the castle, trudging on through the pouring rain. Hermione had already gone to bed, but Lucy was still up, so the three of us settled around the table. I had my Potions essay in front of me, Ron was writing an essay of his own, and Lucy was flipping through Cedric's journal and flagging pages every now and then.

After about half an hour, Lucy closed the journal and looked right at me. "Alright, what happened?"

I glanced up. "What do you mean?"

"What happened at practice? Ron keeps glancing at you like he's worried." When I didn't answer, she turned to Ron. "What happened, if he won't tell me?"

"It's nothing, so you can stop asking," I snapped before I even knew what I was saying. I blinked. What the hell is wrong with me? I blinked again. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"It's alright," she said dismissively. "Was it your scar?"

I blinked a third time. "Er, yeah, it was. It just..."

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Her voice was completely calm, though I knew I had to have hurt her. I wanted to tell her, really I did, but I... couldn't. I couldn't remember if I had ever snapped at her before. That... that was enough damage for one night.

When the days are cold and the cards all fold
And the saints we see are all made of gold
When your dreams all fail and the ones we hail
Are the worst of all and the blood's run stale

I want to hide the truth, I want to shelter you
But with the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide
No matter what we breed, we still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come, this is my kingdom come

When you feel my heat, look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide
Don't get too close, it's dark inside
It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide

Heat crept into my face as she held my gaze with those eyes of hers. Those eyes that could always see right through me. Those eyes that were searching me at that very moment. Those eyes that sometimes let me in, but not that night. I waited another moment — naïvely hoping she'd let me in — before giving up and going back to my essay. "Don't worry about it, Lucy, we've all got enough going on."

She made a strangled sound of protest. It was so quiet Ron probably didn't hear it, but I did. I kept my head bowed low and did my best to keep working on the essay even after the words started to swim together.

When Ron headed up to bed, Lucy retreated to the window seat and I made my way to the couch with a textbook, since I had more or less finished the essay. But the words of the textbook swirled together too, combining with my anxious thoughts to send me spiraling all the way into sleep. 

Hermione said Sirius was becoming reckless cooped up in Grimmauld Place, but she's wrong, he's Sirius, he's always like that, it's why he's so helpful, he'd convince her to lighten up if he was here with us... why on earth can I feel what Voldemort feels, why did Dumbledore never really explain the connection, should I tell him, Ron said I should and Hermione will say I should, but Lucy didn't say anything one way or the other...

And just like that, I dropped off into a dream.

It was a long, dark hallway, with no windows. It was familiar to me. It was exciting to me. I reached the door at the end of the corridor, and I reached out for the knob. My fingers were inches away when the dream disappeared.

"Harry," someone was whispering. "It's alright, Harry, just a dream."

My eyes fluttered open to see Lucy crouching in front of me, shaking my knee. I blinked. "Oh. I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep."

"I'm surprised you didn't wake up when you dropped the book," she said with a bit of amusement as she gestured toward the textbook on the ground. She placed it on my lap. "You weren't asleep for long, I just figured I should wake you up when you started mumbling. Are you alright?"

I nodded. "I've had worse."

She looked for a moment as if she'd say something, but apparently thought better of it and settled on the opposite end of the couch.

"Why're you still up?" I asked. "Weren't you awake all last night?"

"Full moon on Saturday," she replied quietly.

I nodded. "Right. But don't you sleep most of the week beforehand, the last couple of days are the sleepless ones?"

She shrugged, glancing at the fire.

"What's bothering you?" I asked. "I know something is."

"Plenty of somethings, actually," she muttered. "It's nothing."

I blinked. I had just used those same words about my scar. It wasn't nothing. I'm sure whatever she was hiding wasn't nothing, either.

Don't want to let you down, but I am hell bound
Though this is all for you, don't want to hide the truth
No matter what we breed, we still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come, this is my kingdom come

When you feel my heat, look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide
Don't get too close, it's dark inside
It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide

"You were right, it was my scar. But... this time I realized it doesn't just hurt."

She turned away from the fire, facing me instead. "What do you mean?"

"I think I... I think I know how he's feeling now, too. Like tonight, he was angry, furious. When Umbridge touched me, he was pleased. And..." I hesitated for a moment before plowing ahead anyway. I had already said more than I was planning to say. Might as well not hold anything back, not about this. "And over summer, I think he... he was proud of what he did to your parents."

Her expression was carefully guarded. She was silent for a moment, thinking. Then she glanced down at her hands, laying loosely tangled on her lap. "The full moon this month will be more or less the tenth anniversary of it all," she said. "S-So I guess we've both got our own demons whispering in our ears right now."

Before either of us could say anything else, Dobby suddenly appeared, Hedwig sitting atop the dozen or so knit hats balanced precariously on his head.

"Dobby?" I asked, amazed by the sheer amount of Hermione's knit garments he had managed to put on his little body.

"Dobby volunteered to return Harry Potter's owl! Professor Grubbly-Plank says she is all well now, sir!"

"Thanks, Dobby!" I exclaimed, feeling incredibly relieved as Hedwig came to perch herself on the arm of the couch.

"What happened to Hedwig?" Lucy asked. She scrambled across the couch and leaned over me to stroke Hedwig's feathers.

"She was injured trying to bring me the letter from Snuffles," I explained. "Hermione reckons Umbridge was trying to read my mail."

"Oh, you poor thing," she said, scooping Hedwig up and bringing her onto her lap, sitting so close to me our knees were touching. I reached forward to stroke Hedwig's feathers, too.

I glanced at Dobby. "Er, Dobby, have you been taking all the clothes Hermione's been leaving out?"

"Oh no, sir, Dobby has been taking some for Winky too, sir."

"Yeah, how is Winky?" I asked.

"Winky is still drinking lots, sir. She still does not care for clothes, Harry Potter, nor do the other house-elves. None of them will clean Gryffindor Tower anymore, not with the hats and socks hidden everywhere, they finds them insulting, sir. Dobby does it all himself, sir, but Dobby does not mind, sir, for he always hopes to meet Harry Potter and tonight, sir, he has got his wish!"

Lucy bit her lip. "I could talk to Hermione about stopping the knitting, so you aren't all alone."

"Dobby does not mind, Lucy!" he insisted. "The clothes are very nice, and you are good company!"

I turned to Lucy suspiciously. "I thought you slept just fine most of the time. Are your second year sleeping habits back?"

"I haven't slept much for a couple weeks," she admitted. She managed a weak smile, though, and turned to Dobby. "Besides, I don't mind. It's been nice getting to know Harry Potter's biggest fan other than me."

Dobby beamed, but I was at something of a loss. Just hours ago, I'd been worried that Lucy would think I was a monster, but there she was. There she was, talking about being my biggest fan compared even to Dobby, which said a lot. There she was, turning back to face me, still smiling. There she was, being Lucy.

"I do think, though," she said, placing Hedwig on my shoulder, rising from the couch, and retrieving her brother's journal from the side table in one fluid motion, "that I should at least try to get some sleep tonight, and you should, too. Your bed will be more comfortable than this couch, trust me."

"Er, right," I stammered, blinking myself out of my daze. I turned to Dobby. "Thanks for bringing Hedwig back! I'm glad she's alright now."

Dobby nodded, his tower of hats swaying precariously on top of his head. "Good night, Harry Potter and Lucy!"

With that, he disapparated.

"How did you convince him to call you just your first name?" I asked with a chuckle as we headed toward the dormitories.

"Well, I don't exactly feel quite right with either Everlin or Diggory, so it was easy enough to convince him just to say Lucy. You, though, Harry Potter," she said teasingly, "are very much out of luck with that."

I sighed. "I unfortunately think you're right."

"You don't have to be ashamed of your name." Lucy stopped and turned to me. "I know everyone and their mothers — it's a saying, I don't just mean Seamus — are slandering it right now, but there's nothing wrong with being you. Your name is what you want it to be, not what other people try to make it out to be on your behalf."

"If only it were that easy," I said with another small sigh.

She nodded, a shadow flickering across her eyes. "Yeah. If only." She reached forward suddenly and hugged me. "Good night, Harry."

I held onto her for a moment before letting go, immensely relieved that she was back and safe. "Good night, Lucy."

They say it's what you make, I say it's up to fate
It's woven in my soul, I need to let you go
Your eyes, they shine so bright, I want to save that light
I can't escape this now, unless you show me how

When you feel my heat, look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide
Don't get too close, it's dark inside
It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide

"Demons"
Imagine Dragons