Evanora

Locket Anger Making Harry Lash Out

I got distracted when a panting noise came to my attention. Harry leaned against the tent, sweating and panting, his mind being infiltrated by Voldemort again. I cautiously came toward him and made haste with my boots as I walked quickly through the leaves and twigs on the ground.

"What is it?" I asked him quietly, standing in front of him.

"Gregorivitch has something that Voldemort wants. Desperately. I mean, it's as if his life depends on it," he said, slowing down his panting.

"Gregorivitch the wand maker?" I asked. He nodded. Suddenly the radio made muffled sound and he jerked his head back at the tent, angrily.

"What?"

"It sets my teeth on edge," he says.

"Hermione says it comforts him," I say, not knowing what else.

"Did she say when we will be able to travel?" he asked, looking tense.

I shook my head at him. I gazed at the gold locket around his neck. He let out an angry 'ugh'. I scan him as he turns his head to look along the forest with his jaw clenched.

"What's your problem?" I say quietly. He doesn't look at me, but begins to stomp off in the other direction. Naturally, I follow beside him, waiting for an answer.

"Whatever you two have been doing is not enough," he waves a hand at Hermione, who is about 40 feet from us, picking up a plant. He shoots his head back in the direction that he's walking in as he continues on and quickens his pace. I furrow my brow and quicken my pace as well.

"Harry--"

He interrupted my sentence and stopped abruptly in his tracks. "WOULD YOU JUST LEAVE ME?" He roared angrily. That was it. I had pushed him to a breaking point, and it was my fault, although in my haze of emotions I couldn't give a valiant answer why, but all of the answers seemed to make perfect sense at the moment. My mouth fell slightly open, releasing a gasp that didn't live long enough to be heard because my chest immediately tightened. It was like an invisible force gave me a quick push backward, halting my momentum and my muscles felt so inclined to move away. I tried to maintain my 'angry-confused' expression and the muscles in my neck momentarily flared. I staggered backward. Life around me stood still, though there was a soft flutter of the tent curtains somewhere behind and left of me and Hermione dropped her plant somewhere behind and right of me, yet I couldn't hear a thing. My expression didn't last long because, despite my strongest efforts, my chin scrunched up and my lip quivered. Just once.

Very rarely ever did Ron, Hermione, and Harry see me like this. I was always a generally strong-minded person, but the simplest of things that really did get to me was when someone I cared made an act of hatred toward me. Though Harry yelling at me was more innocent compared to what really should hurt me mentally, I loved him-- and that was why he made me vulnerable. His eyes flashed to guilt as soon as the lip quivered just once, but then when they flashed back to anger I could no longer keep my eyes on him. I blinked and looked down to his figure as I stiffened even more, if that was possible. His figure was almost always something that brought comfort, always something that drew me nearer, but now, everything in me repelled me from him. I heard one soft step in leaves behind me, and I backed away, turned and trotted quickly down a small hill to be at her side. She looked up, angrily and worriedly at Harry, and I heard three more large footsteps as Ron confusedly stepped out of the tent. I could imagine his expression at Harry that read What the hell, mate? Though Ron was oblivious to most things, he and Hermione alike could always see how I was drawn to Harry, and never did I look like I wanted to get away so badly. I imagined Harry looking angrily at me and then between Hermione and Ron. I almost stopped behind Hermione, who was my shelter in the moment, but felt eyes on me and without looking back toward them, I started walking quickly toward the nearest large tree and disappeared behind it to hide from their eyes. I slumped against it and slid down to my ankles. Idiot. Nice way of making a show, you baby. How is it that something like this can make you so vulnerable yet you were still able to chase down Bellatrix at full speed with a wounded ankle after your father died, and now you feel like crying because you got yelled at?