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Harry was distraught the whole way back to Grimmauld Place. His friends eyed him when he wasn't looking and then they turned away when he looked at them. He locked himself away in his room that he shared with Ron, not daring to come out or speak to any of them about how he was feeling.
Devore tried keeping the information she knew in her own head, but now it almost spilled from her mouth like a word vomit. It scared her. She was torn on who to tell first, her mother or Harry. Or perhaps both of them together. Harry was safe with them, he knew that. But were any of them actually safe?
She tapped lightly on his room door. "Harry, it's Devore," she spoke lightly. She waited for him to respond or to open the door, but she heard nothing. He'd been this way for hours now. "Harry, please talk to me."
"Not now, Devore," she heard him through the door.
Devore frowned. She rested her head on the wood. "I don't understand how you're feeling, but you know that I always listen. I have to talk to you. Please." She pleaded.
"Just go away, Devore! I don't want to talk!" Harry yelled.
She stood there for a second, her mouth opened to speak, but Devore couldn't form words. Stubbornly, she twisted the doorknob and opened the door. "Harry—" she paused when she saw him lying face down on his bed and his suitcase was standing in the middle of the room.
Harry shot up when she came in. "I said go away!" He yelled at her.
"You're not going to push me away that easy, sorry," Devore raised her voice. She eyed the suitcase. "What, you plan on leaving? That's why you haven't said a word since we returned? You think leaving us all is going to make you feel better?"
"Why do you care?" The question startled her as well as the way he quickly stood from his bed.
Her brows pinched together. "What the hell does that mean?" She said displeased.
"You left!" Harry nearly shouted, getting closer to her. "You think I didn't feel awful when you came back acting like you didn't know any of us? You think it didn't hurt me that my best friend turned her back on me?"
Devore's jaw dropped. "Harry, I thought we were past that—"
"You don't get it, okay? None of you do. None of you could even process what's happening inside my head with now!" Harry fumed and acted like he was pulling on his hair.
"Then talk to us! Talk to me!" She said pleading once again, talking with her hands.
"I don't want to talk to anyone and I don't want anybody to talk to me!" He exasperated. "So just go, okay?"
He turned his back to her and Devore stood there somberly.
"I'm serious, Devore, go!"
Devore left the room and she pressed herself to the door. She thought they were okay, that they had moved past what happened last year. Devore thought she was past it. But her past always came back to haunt her in some way, the consequences on her actions never fading away. She looked down and slid up her long sleeves, the words on her wrist staring back at her.
