Going Through the Motions

Author\'s Notes: Well, here\'s the tenth chapter of the story; hope you all enjoy it!! It took me some time to get it just the way I wanted it; the characters kept wanting to go in different directions!! heh.. Plz read and review!!

Disclaimer: See previous chapters

Thank you to all who reviewed!! I appreciate it!!!

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Going Through the Motions
by Squall Thrawn


Chapter 10
Wish I Could Stay

“Harry, we need to talk,” were the first words uttered by Seamus as he and Harry finally reached their dorm room.

Harry sighed. The meeting with Malfoy had used up all of Harry’s eloquence and patience, and he still didn’t know what to say to Seamus. Regardless, they still needed to have this conversation, sooner rather than later.

“You’re right, Seamus,” said Harry, sitting down on his bed. He gestured for Seamus to sit next to him, but the Irish boy instead sat across the room on his own bed. “I’m pretty sure I know what this is about, too.” He sighed again. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for a few days now…”

“I want to break up,” said Seamus in a rush, his face pale but determined. “I mean… this fake relationship we have going on. I can’t take it anymore.”

Harry gulped. This conversation was definitely going faster than he could keep up with. For the past few days, his mind had been focussed on all the preliminary comments, the usual babble about staying friends no matter what. For whatever reason, the actual meat of the conversation had been given little thought. Harry looked up into Seamus’s eyes; saw the pain and the hurt he knew had been caused by him. Unable to look any further, Harry’s eyes found their gaze fixed on the bedspread. He cleared his throat. “You, of course, have every right to do that, Seamus,” said Harry in a strained voice. “All I can say is that I’m sorry I ever brought it up in the first place. And that I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Seamus’s eyes began to tear up again. “It wasn’t entirely your fault, Harry. You told me not to agree to the plan if I thought it would tear our friendship apart. I thought I could handle it, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t handle being so close to you, so often.” Seamus’s head drooped down.

Harry wrinkled his brow in confusion. Hermione had told him Seamus had a crush on him, Harry had believed it, and now Seamus was saying he couldn’t stand being so close to Harry? Maybe they had both been wrong, and Seamus was as straight as an arrow?

“Was it… Being near a gay guy so much?” Harry’s voice shook. After Ron’s condemnation of him, Harry had pinned all of his hopes on Hermione, Ginny, and Seamus. As long as those three accepted him, Harry had convinced himself that he could cope.

Seamus’s head jerked up, as he looked at Harry, shocked. “Oh, no, Harry! That wasn’t it at all! I could never hate you for that!” Seamus looked down, then back up at Harry. “I meant… I couldn’t handle being so close to you, holding hands with you… And all I wanted was for it to be real, not just a ruse to throw off the Slytherins. I really wanted you to be my boyfriend, Harry.” Seamus sighed.

Harry tried to look suitably surprised. “Seamus, I had no idea…”

Seamus cut him off, with the hint of a smirk on his face. “You’re a horrible liar, Harry. I already figured Hermione told you that I had a crush on you.”

Harry hesitated, and then nodded. “She didn’t want to, but sometimes Hermione just can’t help sticking her nose in.” Harry shook his head ruefully. “I should have picked up on it before. I don’t think you ever tried to really hide it from me; apparently, I’m just clueless when it comes to these things.” Harry’s smile flattened out. “I wish I had figured this out, before we got so deep into our ruse. I must have hurt you so badly, without even knowing it.”

“I won’t lie to you, Harry, it really did hurt,” said Seamus, the strain back in his voice. “Every time I held hands with you, every time we kissed…” Seamus brushed away a stray tear. “I was reminded that it wasn’t real, that you didn’t mean it in the way I wanted, needed it to.” He attempted a smile. “But every time my emotions told me to end this, I kept telling myself that you’d come around, that you’d finally confess your feelings for me.” Then the tears started flowing. “And then, when you and Hermione had your talk, I overheard you tell her that you didn’t have any feelings for me.”

The guilty feeling Harry had been having for most of the conversation seemed to hit him at full blast. Because of his stupid plan, not only had he hurt Seamus by leading him on, now Harry was hurting him by lying to him. If he told Seamus the truth, though, Harry felt like he would be signing the Irish boy’s death sentence. Assuming he hadn’t already. For his own sake, Seamus was probably safest a ways away from him, Harry reasoned. Besides, what kind of normal relationship could The-Boy-Who-Lived offer, anyway? At the same time, Hermione’s voice seemed to echo in his mind, telling him not to cut himself off from people. That Seamus was too good of a friend to lie to. Harry ruthlessly squashed that part of his mind. After all, it was for the best, wasn’t it?

“I’m really sorry for leading you on, Seamus,” said Harry, cautiously. “If there was anything I ever said or did that gave you the wrong impression, I’m truly sorry.” From the expression on Seamus’s face, it looked to Harry as if the sandy-haired boy had been still hoping for a confession of reciprocated feelings, despite everything he had seen and overheard. And part of Harry died inside as he watched that look of hope fade away, dissolving into pain and hurt.

“I…” Seamus stood up quickly. Harry could tell that Seamus was on the verge of sobbing. “I need to go now; I’m sorry, Harry.” With that, he rushed out of the room.

Harry slumped back on his bed. It was the right thing to do, he kept saying to himself. Then why, pray tell, did he feel like absolute shite? All he knew for certain was that he was due for another sleepless night.

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“Is the door sealed?” asked a black-robed figure. A voice promptly replied in the affirmative. There were perhaps a half dozen people in the cold, dusty dungeon room, all clad in black robes. With the exception of a handful of candles in the centre of the circle all the figures were all sitting in, the dungeon was otherwise unlit. “Good. As usual, we need to discuss how we can best hurt Potter. And how to reverse the rather unfortunate setbacks resulting from our last plan.”

“Is that what you call it? A setback?” asked another black-robed figure in a male voice, his contempt obvious. “Term’s just started, and we’ve already showed them that we’ve got a spy in their ranks. Not to mention the fact that you misused the information and now Potter is happy and with Finnegan now. Not to mention the fact that your last plan made our spy lose his connection with Potter. From now on, any information we gain, we will all discuss as a group on how to best use it to hurt Potter. No more unilateral action.”

“You forget yourself,” snapped back the first figure. The voice, which had been previously disguised in a vain attempt not to be recognized, was now distinctly female. “You may consider this a council, or conclave, or whatever; but it’s not. You are not in charge here; you’re just here to offer your opinion if and when we ask for it.”

“Which you did,” countered the male voice.

“Enough, Nott,” cut in a new voice. His voice was more authoritative. “I will not listen to any more of this pointless bickering and arguing. We have to figure out a way to turn this momentary setback into a win in our column. I’ve recently been in contact with my father, and he authorized me to do whatever it takes to hurt Potter. Even harm Finnegan, if necessary.”

“If we do that,” interjected a second female voice, “we risk having Potter confront us directly. He’s already gunning for us, as it is.”

“Millicent’s right,” said Nott. “While the two of them are together, we’d better leave Finnegan alone until we have a way to hurt Potter too.

“Not necessarily,” replied the remaining figure in the room, another male. “Regardless of whether they’re together or apart, Finnegan is now Potter’s primary weakness. If we arranged things so that something would happen to Finnegan, without it even being remotely connected to us, we could hurt Potter that way. How is he going to retaliate against people he can‘t connect the attack to?”

“Sounds like somebody has a plan,” replied the leader. “And just what would this scheme have us doing?”

“Well, here’s what I‘ve come up with….”

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“I can’t believe everybody found out so fast,” complained Harry as he sat with Ginny for an early lunch on Sunday. He hadn’t seen Seamus since the previous night, and Harry was temporarily avoiding Hermione. Seeing that extremely disappointed look on her face was an experience Harry didn’t wish to repeat any time soon. “The work of our secret informer again?” As he looked at the redheaded girl, he could feel the curious stares of his fellow classmates boring into the back of his skull.

“Unfortunately, Harry, it’s most likely just nosy Gryffindors who don’t have anything better to do,” said Ginny, ruefully. “Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, in particular, have been watching you and Seamus like a hawk, just waiting for some more juicy gossip.” She shrugged, and lowered her voice. “Seamus may have thought he was exaggerating, and the whole thing may not have been for real, but it was true, all the same: You two actually were the most photogenic couple in Hogwarts, and definitely the most interesting. With not much else happening, you two were front-page news as far as Hogwarts is concerned. In fact, there are quite a few girls around who thought your pseudo-relationship was quite romantic; mainly the ones who wanted that sort of romance in their own lives.” She glared at him as if to accuse him of throwing away happiness.

“It was for the best, Ginny,” Harry repeated his reasoning for the umpteenth time.

“So you keep saying,” said Ginny, with a slight lilt in her voice. “I’m sorry Harry, but that doesn’t change what I think. I’m going to have to side with Hermione on this one; you made the wrong choice.”

“And it was my choice to make!” said Harry in a loud voice. Several Gryffindor heads turned towards him, startled by the outburst.

“It wasn’t yours alone, though, Harry,” murmured Ginny, low enough that only Harry heard her.

Harry flashed an angry look at her before getting up from the bench and heading towards the Great Hall doors, leaving his food virtually untouched.

Countless students could have blocked his way, and Harry would not have noticed them. All he wanted to do was lie in his bed and sleep until Voldemort came to kill him. It seemed to Harry that whenever he was awake and interacting with people, all he did was hurt them.

As Harry rushed through the school corridors, he brushed past a blonde-haired student. He didn’t slow down whatsoever, though, leaving a confused and pissed-off Draco Malfoy behind in his wake.

When Harry finally made it to Gryffindor Tower and his dorm, he was greeted by a few changes: Seamus’s belongings were moved out, and there was a plain white envelope on Harry’s bed.

Harry picked up the envelope, trying to figure out the contents. Unsealing it, Harry pulled out what appeared to be an 8x10 photo. He turned it over and looked silently at the picture Colin Creevey had taken last Monday, that of Seamus planting a kiss on Harry’s cheek. The figures were stationary; apparently, Colin still enjoyed taking pictures the Muggle way. Lost in his reverie, staring at the picture, Harry jumped when somebody spoke.

“Second thoughts, Harry?” asked Hermione. Harry recovered from his surprise and grimaced.

“Here to tell me again how disappointed you are in me?” asked Harry, in a bitter voice. “I’ve gotten the picture already; in fact, I think I’ve received more than enough pictures.”

Hermione looked unabashed. “I just thought you’d like to have a visual reminder of what you had; of what you gave up.” She gave him a pointed look.

“And I say to you again, I don’t regret it,” said Harry firmly; but Hermione could hear a tinge of uncertainty in his response.

“You don’t regret it at all?” asked Hermione in a harsh tone. “Well, you should. You should regret deeply your decision to viciously lie to somebody you deeply care about and break his heart.”

“Fine, I’m a bad person,” Harry growled back. “I think I’ve said all I’m going to say about this.” And with that, he exited his dorm as quickly as he had entered. Hermione stood there for a second, before sighing and shaking her head.

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It was long past dinner, and still Harry sat underneath the birch tree overlooking the lake. Harry had not said a single word, nor had he budged the entire time, with the exception of a short, bitter laugh when the thought had come to him that he had already gone full-circle. On his first afternoon back at Hogwarts, Harry had sat in this same spot, feeling melancholy and withdrawn. One week later, not only was he feeling the same way, but now he was feeling some heartbreak, as well. Good job on improving things, Harry.

“What’s the big idea, Potter?” A voice spat out, nearby. Harry turned his unseeing eyes in the direction of the voice and focussed them to find one Draco Malfoy in front of him.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” asked Harry in a monotone voice. “Did you bring food, like I told you to? You’ll recall the last time you approached me like this.”

“Must have forgotten,” said Malfoy, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “I’m referring to the fact that your fake relationship with the Mick was supposed to throw off Pansy and the others and lead us to your mole. So what’s this I hear about a break-up?”

“It’s absolutely none of your business, Malfoy,” said Harry in a hollow tone. The anger he had expressed towards the others, the anger he knew had actually been directed at him and his actions, had burned itself out and had left him with that familiar empty feeling. It was like summer at Privet Drive all over again. “It shouldn’t affect your schemes, though, Malfoy. I don’t think Seamus understood that sometimes you have to sacrifice your personal happiness for the bigger picture. I, on the other hand, understand that all too well.”

Malfoy eyed Harry for a moment, before briefly nodding. “As long as the plan is still in motion, and you’re still in, I guess it doesn’t matter that Finnegan’s no longer in the picture.” He briefly glanced around to make sure nobody spotted him talking to Potter. “Have you made any progress on a plan to discover your mole?”

“None whatsoever, Malfoy,” said Harry, shortly. “Though I realize that this is important to you, there are more important things going on in my life right now. I may have just lost one of my closest friends, and I don’t have so many left that I can keep losing them. Seamus risked being alienated from the entire student population just so I could show Pansy and the others up and stuck with me as long as he could, despite the fact that the entire charade caused him pain and hurt. A charade I engineered.” The bitterness was evident in Harry’s tone.

Malfoy was, for once, silent. He eyed Harry with a look akin to surprise.

“Why are you telling all this to me?” Malfoy finally asked. “Alliance or no alliance, we’ve never gotten along, and we couldn’t be further opposites if we tried.”

“Because you don’t really care,” responded Harry simply. “Everybody else would just chastise me for making the wrong call. You don’t care, whatsoever, about my personal problems since they don’t pertain to you. All you care about is regaining your power. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be left alone for a while. I’ll let you know some time this week, when I’ve got a working plan.”

“I care about more than just regaining my power,” said Malfoy quietly. Then he shrugged. “But yes, power is almost all I care about.” Without another word, the blonde-haired Slytherin walked off, allowing Harry to return to his self-imposed solitude and silence.

Draco did turn around, however, when he realized he had forgotten to ask Potter a question. He quietly walked towards the tree, but stopped when he saw what Harry was doing. The green-eyed boy was gently touching what looked like a photo; it was too far for Draco to make out who was in it. As he watched, Potter touched it one more time before folding it up, putting in his pocket, and burying his face in his hands. Draco silently walked away, his question long forgotten.

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What do you think? All of you reading, I would be eternally grateful if you dropped me a review.. Even if it\'s just a short \"Good job, Squall\" I\'d like to know if people are reading and following along with my story

Squall Thrawn
THRAWN5678@aol.com