In the Melancholy Moonlight

Chapter XCIII: You Can Ebb

LUCY:

Some people feel anger in the head. A rush of fire that ricochets around the skull and eventually spills out in a torrent of scorching words that can burn the paper world of headlines and publicity.

Some people feel anger in the soul. A force so strong that everything within the body demands something be done to show the world just how unfair it is.

Some people feel anger in the heart. A sting in their chest, a sharp exhale, a deep sort of furious animal that would prove to be dangerous if ever poked and prodded into breaking free of its cage.

Mum's anger had been in her head. The article still on Hermione's desk in our shared bedroom was proof enough of that.

Dad's anger had been in his soul. I didn't like to remember the times he had proven that.

I had the feeling Harry's anger was in his heart. I saw it in the way his eyes flashed when he talked about the trial, the way his fists clenched whenever we were sent away from where we knew an Order meeting was occurring, the way his shoulders stiffened every time someone stepped a little too close to a sensitive topic.

Like me, for instance.

Harry's shoulders stiffened every time George noted with concern the way my hands still trembled or Hermione tried to coax me into eating one more sandwich at lunch or Fred attempted to make a joke that I couldn't laugh at or Ginny tossed me something that I was too slow to catch or Ron commented on how tired I still looked. He only ever seemed to relax when I had drifted off to sleep, really, based on the conversations I sometimes overheard between Ginny and Hermione on the mornings they didn't realize I was awake but still too exhausted to open my eyes.

I spent nearly every waking moment where my eyes were open doing summer homework. It was exhausting, it was so much harder than it really should have been, but I did my best. I always worked in the same room as Harry, because neither of us liked being without the other. I heard Hermione whisper something to Ginny about separation anxiety one time when they thought I was asleep. Whether the way we seemed tethered by an invisible string at all times had a name or not, I always felt safest with Harry, and he understood that even if no one else did.

Sirius was another sensitive topic. It was only brought up one time, while Harry and Ron and Hermione were cleaning the mold out of a third-floor cupboard and I was trying to finish my essay for Potions.

"I think Sirius wishes I had been expelled," Harry said. "I mean, have you noticed how much time he spends up with Buckbeak? He doesn't talk to anyone as much as he did before the hearing, not even me." He sighed. "I just wish-"

"Don't you go feeling guilty!" Hermione interrupted. She shook her head and scrubbed with renewed vigor. "You belong at Hogwarts and Sirius knows it. Personally, I think he's being selfish."

Ron cleared his throat diplomatically. "That's a bit harsh, Hermione. I mean, you wouldn't want to be stuck inside this house without company either."

"He'll have company! It's headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, isn't it? He just got his hopes up that Harry would be coming to live here with him."

I tuned their voices out. I was trying to finish my sentence about the final side effect of a properly-brewed pepperup potion, but my fingers shook so violently it looked more like I was saying that "peypervp pOXon" caused steam to leak from the drinker's ears. I grabbed the top of the quill with my right hand in an attempt to still the shaking, but that just resulted in another stray streak of ink across the page that made an entire line illegible.

Anger flared in me, but I pushed it down and scribbled the whole line out. I had just finished rewriting the ruined line when Mrs. Weasley poked her head into the room.