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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP Characters:None Genres: Tragedy Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Sexual Situations, Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 1174 Summary: Harry gets one night that gives him a glimpse into what life could be like with the Dursley's. But events turn for the worse and both Harry and the wizarding world are left wondering what it's consquences mean for the future of the world. Hitcount: Story Total: 501615; Chapter Total: 16152 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: I don't own Anything. Jk Rowling owns it all....everything Harry Potter. I'm just a college student writing Fan Fics. No Copyright infringement is intended. |
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A/N: Wow! There was over 3,000 reads on this story when I last looked and I cannot relay to you how utterly grateful and shocked I am at how many times this story has been looked at….even if you didn’t read the whole thing. I love writing this story, I hope as much as you all love reading it and your reviews and feedback make me want to churn the next chapter out as quickly (though trying to maintain the quality and integrity) as I possibly can. Thanks! Show me a hero and I’ll write you a tragedy–F. Scott Fitzgerald Chapter 10: When You're Around "How's the pain this morning Harry? Any discomfort" asked Madam Pomfrey as she sorted through the various bottles and vials littering his bedside table. Harry, whose bed had been adjusted so he was no longer lying flat but at a slight angle that allowed him to sit-up partially, had been resting with his eyes closed as the matron did her daily check-up on him. He opened them at her question and tilted his head towards her. "Not...really," he replied in a very hoarse and scratchy voice. He been conscious for five days now, waking up for almost an hour or so each time at frequent intervals during the day and night, and his voice was becoming much better. It was still hard to breathe at times, but he longer had to force the syllables out between deep intakes of air when he attempted speech. It sounded as though he had a very bad cold and cough instead. "It's just a....bit uncomfortable here...." he whispered, waving his hand over his stomach and chest to indicate where he was feeling the discomfort.”Sort of feels...like a weight or pressure or...something," he sighed, trying to explain to the matron what he felt. "Ok....you sure you're not hurting anywhere else?" she asked seriously. She had taken care of Harry before during his years at Hogwarts and he was never one to let people know he was hurting. "Yeah....." he replied quietly. "How about you're head? No headache or pain?" she asked. "No...." he breathed in reply. "How about...about your shoulder?" she asked hesitantly. He shook his head in response, his eyes closed against tiredness and the still present fatigue his body was feeling. "I's just a bit sore....that's all," he conceded quietly, opening his eyes and looking sadly at the matron. "Alright. I can give you something to ease the discomfort in your chest and stomach and we'll hold off on some of these potions. It might help you with the grogginess and let you stay awake longer. But if anything else starts to bother you...let me know Harry and I can give you something to ease it a bit," she told him in a very motherly and caring fashion. "There’s no need for you to put up with unnecessary suffering young man. Promise you’ll let someone know if you’re hurting in any way?" Harry eyed her a bit, surprised at Madam Pomfrey’s softened demeanor, which was a far cry from her usually bossy and matronly tones, and then nodded his head in agreement. Harry could hear her pouring various potions into a container and then turned when she held out a cup for him to take. He gladly took the potions from her and with a shaking and unsteady hand raised it to his lips and began to slowly sip the potions. He was glad that he was able to be able to take the potions himself now. The first time he had been awake during the administering of his pain meds, he had coughed and not been able to swallow them and had had to have someone hold him up and brace his head. He no longer had to have someone hold him now that the bed was positioned so he was sitting up slightly and had enough control of his limbs to drink it himself. Though every once in a while someone would feel the need to lift his head up for him or hold his arm steady when it shook slightly as he gripped the cup to his lips. He appreciated their gestures and their attempts at trying to help him, but he had to admit he was getting tired of feelings so useless and weak. Harry tipped the cup back and let the last contents of the potion slip into his mouth and then gulped them down heavily. He held the cup out just as Madam Pomfrey turned to him and she smiled, taking the cup and putting it back amongst the potions. "I guess that’s all for now.....I’ll tell the other’s that I’m finished and send them in then dear....unless you’d like to rest again?" she added, smiling because Harry had just closed his eyes again. "No...that’s fine," he breathed. He heard the door close behind her and the soft footsteps heading down the hall to the kitchen. This had been the first time he had been alone since he had arrived here at Grimmauld Place. It seemed strange not to have someone sitting in the chairs next to his bedside, or the matron fussing over him with her wand, asking him all sorts of questions. Though it was a relief to not have anyone eagle-eyeing him and casting uneasy glances at him as he lay there. He had to admit that their stares and looks had made him on edge and made him apprehensive and actually scared to look at himself. He had been covered up with a blanket the entire time he had been sitting up and in a position where he could view most of his body. The times that he had been uncovered, he’d been lying flat, with only the ceiling to look at. Sitting there in the deafening silence and empty room, he wondered if he should take this opportunity to size up and see for himself exactly what it was about him that was making the others so uncomfortable. Harry listened for approaching footsteps, but heard nothing. Slowly sliding his left hand from under the covers, he grasped the sheets that were pulled near his chin and folded them back on themselves, exposing his chest and abdomen. His heart began to speed up and his breath hitched in his throat as he caught sight of the bright red, raised scars that ran the down the middle of his chest and the length of his abdomen, the second disappearing beneath the sheets still covering him. The scars were wide and uneven, the area around them bruised and discolored. He lifted his hand slowly to touch his chest, running his fingers against the ragged and bumpy skin where he had been cut open. Smaller, fainter scars dotted his right side where the car had pinned him. The area was a little swollen still from the accident and from the surgery the Muggle doctors had performed. Most of his abdomen was littered with various stages of bruising that varied from deep purple and black to a sick tint of yellow, where some of them were healing. He studied himself for a while, running a finger against the obvious deformities, a tear prickling painfully against the corner of his eye, threatening to spill out. He didn’t know why it mattered to him so much how he looked. He had never really thought about that sort of stuff before, but the scars and the injuries made him feel almost ugly....repulsive even. He stopped breathing as his roaming fingers found the spot that he had refrained from looking at since he had woken up. His badly shaking fingers fumbled over the rough and uneven skin that covered the area where his arm had been ripped from him. He followed the muscle across his shoulder until it ended abruptly, the ends of it felt hard and bumpy. Where doctors had removed what was left of the mangled bone, tissue and muscle, the skin was soft and a bit squishy to the touch and a sensation of being tickled shot up Harry’s side. He was a bit disturbed when this happened and wrenched his hand away, instead allowing himself to look at where he had been feeling. He had expected to be disgusted and disturbed by the sight, but instead he found what felt was more awe and an oddly detached sensation......as if it wasn’t really himself he was looking at. ‘But it is’ he reminded himself firmly, when he brought his hand back up again to trace the area. ‘This is real Harry. There is no pretending that everything is fine. There’s no hiding or denying it. It’s a part of you that’s missing’ a voice in his head echoed as his intact hand brush against stump of his shoulder and he let out a shuddering breath. An immense weight and a horrifying reality, similar to the one that had descended on him upon hearing the Prophecy, seem to crash down upon him all at once. He was going to have to live with this the rest of his life....this was really happening to him. He wasn’t going to wake up one day and find his arm back, firmly attached to him. He would never look the same. He’d have to look in the mirror every day and face the stark and harsh reality of his loss. He would never be able to do simple things with the ease he once had, like tying his shoes. He would have to learn how to compensate and adapt with his left arm. He’d have to learn how to write and hold a pen all over again. He’d have to practice and perfect waving his wand and the casting of spells with his non-dominant hand that he had done so naturally before with his right. That part alone he knew would set him back horribly in his quest to find the Horcruxes and defeat Voldemort. It was another road-block in his journey and another assurance that he still had a long way to go before he could fulfill his destiny and bring an end to this horrible war. More importantly though to him, no matter what he did, no matter how good he got at living with one arm, he was never going to be whole again. "Oh god....." he cried out loud as the tears he had been holding in fell down his cheeks. "Oh god....." he whispered again as he wrapped his good arm around himself and began to rock himself gently back and forth with grief as for the first time since he had awoken, he cried without abandon. He let the reality and the immensity of everything that had transpired since the accident wash over him. In his tears and gut-wrenching sobs, he let out all of his feelings of fear, anger and sadness leak out of him. He cried for himself and what had happened to him. But in a small sense he was crying for his Aunt and Uncle....who even though he disliked them and never got along with them.....didn’t deserve death in any form. He also found himself thinking of Dudley and however different they had seemed in the past, they now shared a horrible and common likeness. Each one of them had suffered the sudden loss of their parents and each knew the sadness and loneliness it brought upon a child’s life. Harry let himself cry and mourn until sleep relieved him of his pain and grief. He hadn’t known how long he had went on for, and he hadn’t noticed the door slowly open as Ron, Hermione, Remus, and Mr. Weasley came to sit with him after being told by Madam Pomfrey that they could. None of them said a word of course or made any noise that would bring attention to themselves. They watched for a few seconds from the door, watching silently as he broke down into tears and sobs before they had closed the door quietly, leaving him to have his time alone. Hermione had wanted to rush in there and comfort him, but Remus had held her back telling her that ‘Harry needed his time alone to grieve and come to grips with things. He needed to let things out in order start his healing process.’ Reluctantly and with glassy eyes, the group had retreated to the kitchen to wait a while and give Harry space. An hour later, Ron and Hermione had entered the room to find him sleeping soundly, still holding himself, his eyes puffy and cheeks tear stained. ------------------------------ ---------------------------------------- ------------------------- Ginny sat staring at Harry’s sleeping form on the bed as she sat in one of the comfy armchairs. She had taken Ron and Hermione’s positions to allow them to get some food and some much needed time to themselves. Ginny had found herself in this position a lot in the past five or so days that Harry had been awake. She willingly offered to stay and watch him as he slept, insisting that the other’s needed to rest and busy themselves some other way. But in all actuality, the reason she had conceded to take these "sleep" watches, was because she couldn’t bring herself to be there for him when he was awake. She had been ecstatic and relieved when he had awoken on her shoulder and spoke for the first time. But now that familiar pit in her stomach had returned and her mind began to tell her all over again that she shouldn’t get too close to him because he was no longer hers. She had decided that it would be easier for her to retain her resolve and keep from throwing herself at him if she kept away. She was determined to not upset him, to respect his decision and his need to break off their relationship to keep her safe, even if it meant making herself miserable. She had told herself over and over again that she would wait for him, that she would do anything for him, but it was beginning to wear on her. She wanted so much to kiss him and to take care of him. She wanted to be able to sit there with him for hours and talk about absolutely nothing at all, while enjoying every minute of it. While they had been dating, she had found that he could be rather silly when they had conversations about random things. She liked that about him. He reserved and respectful, other times he was loyal, compassionate and brave, and when they were alone or just relaxing, he’d let his guard down for her and let his fumbling, awkward, and surprisingly funny, sixteen year-old self out to play. Around her, he seemed to let all of his worries and the seriousness of his life take a backseat. He wasn’t the Boy-Who-Lived or the Chosen One with her. He was Harry James Potter a six foot, slightly awkward and gangly boy with a nasty cowlick and horrible eye-sight. And as corny and cliché as it sounded, he was just Harry to her. She loved all of his quirks and his flaws as well as his fierce and dutiful nature. And as she sat watching him sleep there in the sitting room, she thought about how much easier it would be for her if she hated him for his nobility and righteousness. It would be so much easier to walk away if she was mad at him for trying to protect her or if she didn’t understand his decision. But she wasn’t and she understood him completely, and she cared about him so much that she was willing to let him go, despite the heartache it caused her. ‘Whoever said ‘if you love something give it away’ obviously never had been in a situation where they had to heed their own words,” she thought bitterly to herself. She was interrupted from her thoughts by movement and a soft rustling of sheets as Harry shifted and stretched his arm out, trying to rouse himself from his slumber. Ginny waited with abated breath, hoping he would fall back asleep before he would notice she was there. She didn’t want the awkwardness she knew it would bring and she wanted to avoid it all costs. But he turned slightly on his left side to get more comfortable and she soon found him looking sleepily up at her with a smirk on his face. “Hello…” he whispered in a very hoarse and sleepy voice. He let out another yawn and rubbed his eyes free of the last few hours of sleep. Without thinking or knowing why she did it, Ginny got up from her seat, stretched out the kinks from sitting at his bedside and started to move towards the door. “Where you going?” he asked still in his dazed and tired sounding voice. “Mum wants me to help her with the seating plan for Bill’s wedding,” she invented wildly, turning to glance at him and wait for his reaction. “Oh…” he said with a slightly crestfallen look on his face. “Later,” she replied as she left the room. As she walked up the stone steps, she realized she felt horrible for her quick get away and invented excuse. Well, partially invented. Her mother had asked her to help with the plan, but she had declined the invitation. -------------------------------------- ------ Harry knocked his head back into the pillow and let out a deep sigh of frustration he watched Ginny’s back disappear through the sitting room door. This hadn’t been the first time he had woken up to find her sitting with him. She had been the one to be there when he woke up from his coma-like state and he had to admit it had been nice to come to in the arms of his girlfriend. But ever since, she only stayed for a few minutes at a time and never said anything more than ‘hi’ or ‘I’ll go get someone.’ ‘Ex…girlfriend,’ reminded himself. ‘You’re the prat who broke things off remember?’ ‘I did it for to protect her,’ another part of him retaliated. ‘It just has to be that way…It’s what’s right for her…for everyone.’ ‘The right thing? Is the right thing supposed to make you feel miserable? Make her not want to be around you?’ He had to admit that every time she made up some reason to leave the room or to make herself busy doing something else, it made his heart drop a bit. He was disappointed that she had not said more than a sentence or so to him since he had woken up and had not so much as looked him in the eye without pulling her gaze away. At first the thought that she was so revolted and shocked by his appearance that she couldn’t bare to look at him. But he knew that she was staying away because of what had happened at Dumbledore’s funeral. She was staying away because he had ended it, because he had told her that they couldn’t be together. He hadn’t given her a chance to tell him how she felt about all this….he’d just left her sitting by the lake after giving his reasoning. “She hates me,” he said out loud, knocking his head against the pillow again. “Who hates you now?” came a voice from the door. Harry started and looked around for the source of it. Remus Lupin was standing with the door propped open with his foot, a steaming bowl of what looked like broth in his hands. “No one…” Harry said quickly. “What’s that for?” he asked gesturing to the bowl in Lupin’s hands. “Oh….Madam Pomfrey reckons that your stomach and digestive system can handle a bit of soup now that you’ve had some time to heal. It’ll still be a few days before you can try eating real food though,” he said smiling and setting the soup next to Harry’s bed on a tray. “Well…I guess it’s better than choking down nutrition potions and food substitutes every day,” Harry shrugged as Remus helped him sit up a bit straighter and pull a tray across his lap. Harry picked up the spoon Remus had set for him with a very shaky and unsteady left hand. It felt very awkward to be holding the spoon in this hand. He had never realized that he ate with his right hand. It had never been something he really had to think about before. Dipping the spoon in the broth, spilling a bit back into the bowl as he brought it to his mouth, he let the amber liquid hit his tongue. It tasted like chicken broth, but it there was a hint of something else, (probably some sort of potion they put in there to let him think they were forgoing it during regular potions administering) and it was luke-warm, almost to the point of cold. “It’s a bit cold,” Harry said as polite as he could, gulping down the first spoonful. Remus looked at him wearily. “Well….we had to make sure it wouldn’t irritate your stomach or anything else and make you get sick. So we didn’t make it to hot, just in case,” he explained, searching Harry’s eyes for his reaction. “Harry I’m sorry we can’t give you something better tasting. I’m sorry you have had to grow through all of this.” “I guess it’s better than nothing,” Harry sighed, carefully spooning more broth into his mouth, trying hard not to spill down his front. “At least I know I’m going to be able to eat again eventually. From what Madam Pomfrey told me about my internal injuries and what they took out….I’m lucky that I’m even thinking about eating anything more than blended up food from a straw for the rest of my life. Or liquid through that tube they had in my stomach……”he added, his voice fading as he said the last words. “You’ll get there Harry. It’ll just take time,” Remus assured him, laying a hand on his shoulder. Harry nodded heavily and continued to slurp his semi-warm, funny-tasting soup quietly. He got about halfway through the bowl when he felt a heavy pressure settle in on his stomach. As he sat there, his insides felt like they were writhing against his stomach muscles. He set his spoon down and closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to keep the impending sick from making an appearance. As hard as he concentrated on not throwing up and retching, he could taste the bile making it’s way up his throat. “Harry?” Remus asked quietly. Harry had heard Remus, but knew if he opened his mouth then there would be no doubt that he would lose his battle to keep down the soup. Instead he shook his head, keeping his eyes closed, breathing deeply through his nose. “Harry?” Remus asked again. “Are you going to be sick? Harry cracked his eyes open to glance at Remus, who had leaned in close and had a hand comfortingly on Harry’s back. Harry nodded slightly in response. “It’s alright Harry,” Remus told him, quickly pulling a large basin from underneath his chair that Harry had not seen before. He removed the tray from Harry’s lap and replaced it with the basin. “Here, you--“ But before he could hear what Remus was going to say, Harry felt the warm-liquid hit the back of his tongue and the racing sound of his heart filled his ears as he lost his battle with his stomach. Emptying freshly eaten soup and left over potions into the large basin with a sickening splash, his body heaved and tensed as it rejected its contents. In addition to the unpleasantness that came with vomiting, Harry could feel his chest and lungs burn from the effort and his head began to pound uncomfortably as he gasped for air between retches. “Let it out Harry…..you’ll feel better,” Remus soothed, rubbing his hand over Harry’s back, trying to comfort him. Harry felt a bit embarrassed that he had lost control of his stomach so easily. He had only gotten sick in front of people once or twice and that was after he had flitted into the confines of Lord Voldemort’s mind. Having gotten sick so spectacularly sick in front of Remus and to have him rub his back as Harry’s body shook and heaved uncontrollably was very uncomfortable. When Harry was sure he had nothing more to expel, he sat with his head still hung over the basin, his eyes closed as he tried to make his head stop spinning. Once the dizziness had passed, he leaned back, allowing Remus to take the bowl of sick off of his lap. He handed Harry a handkerchief to wipe off his mouth and then a glass of water. Harry took a sip of water, swishing it around his mouth and spitting it into the basin that Remus held out for him again. “I guess I’m not ready for soup,” Harry whispered, leaning back against the pillows, his body still shaking and his muscles twitching from exhaustion. “Madam Pomfrey thought you might get sick. That’s what the basin and water were for,” Remus explained with a sad chuckle. “And this too,” he added, holding out a cup. “Wha’s this?” Harry asked, still breathing deeply, taking the cup and surveying the contents. “It’ll settle you’re stomach and soothe you’re insides….I can’t imagine you feel too great at the moment….” Remus said with knowing look on his face. “I’ve felt better…..” Harry breathed as he downed the thick, pink liquid in the cup. His insides seemed to cool and numb as he felt it slide down his esophagus. The pounding in his head and chest seemed to subside and his body began to relax again. “Madam Pomfrey was talking about maybe getting you up and walking today…..but maybe we should hold off till tomorrow,” Lupin added as he waved his wand over the basin and emptied its contents. Harry wanted so bad to get up out of this bed and at least stand up and take a few steps, maybe sit in a chair or something. But his stunning stomach pyrotechnic display had taken a lot out of him and right now, the prospect of putting his tired, sore, and battered body through what he knew was going to be a difficult task, didn’t appeal to him. “Yeah….I guess it’ll have to wait till tomorrow,” he sighed finally. Harry sat back, letting the potion soothe and cool his body, as Remus sat in the chair beside him, eyeing Harry carefully. “Harry….?” He asked quietly and cautiously. “Do you mind if I ask you about what you said when I first came in here?” “Huh?” Harry grunted as he lay there, recovering. “About someone hating you? I just wondered if maybe you wanted to talk about it. If not….that’s fine,” Remus added quickly as Harry opened his eyes to look at his former professor. Harry sat there thinking carefully about Remus’s offer. He had to admit he was confused over this situation with Ginny. He wanted…no he needed to protect her from getting hurt, from Voldemort. But doing so was making him miserable and obviously she wasn’t happy either. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he talked to Remus. Remus was his father’s best friend. He had been his professor and was the closest thing to a male role model that Harry had had. Harry could talk to him and trust him. “Do you think Ginny’s scared of me?” he blurted out without thinking. “What?” asked Remus, thrown off guard. “Harry…..why would you even think that? Don’t ever think that we’d be afraid of you or concerned with the way you look……” “I know….”Harry interrupted. “It’s just….she always leaves or finds something to do when I’m awake and sometimes I catch her looking at me and then she looks away when I notice.” “You and Ginny went out right?” Remus asked. “Yeah.” “But you’re not anymore?” he asked. “No.” “Can I ask you what happened?” Remus asked, though it looked as though he already had an inkling of what was going on. “We….I mean….I broke it off,” Harry replied. Remus looked at him expectantly as though waiting for him to give a better explanation. “I broke it off because it’s dangerous being my girlfriend. I don’t want to see her hurt because Voldemort found out that we were close. He’d go straight for her if he knew we were going out. I have to protect her,” Harry explained the best he could. “Why?” Remus asked simply. “Why what?” Harry asked confused. He thought he had just explained why he broke it off. “Why do you need to protect her?” “I….” he started. What he wanted to say was ‘I love her. I can’t lose her. I’d die if something happened to her.’ “You what?” Remus asked again blankly. “I don’t want her to get hurt,” Harry answered, finally settling on an answer. “And you don’t care if Ron and Hermione get hurt? I don’t see them avoiding you or you telling them you can’t be friends with them because Voldemort might find out that they’ve been your best friends for the last six years,” Remus reasoned. “That’s different,” Harry murmured. “How so?” Remus asked, with a slight smirk on his face. “Ginny’s different. She…I…..I care for her too much. If she got hurt….if he used her…I’d….I’d” Harry stuttered, letting the words and pent up thoughts spill from his mind. “You’d what?” Remus asked again calmly and simply. “I’d….I’d go crazy, alright? If I lose her I’d……..” “Die,” offered Remus. “I’ve already lost too many people that cared for me Remus,” Harry explained in an exasperated and defeated voice. “Every time I get close to someone…..he takes them from me. I’m not going to let that happen to any one else. I can’t let that happen to Ginny.” “You always amaze me Harry,” Remus said, looking intensely at Harry. “What?” Harry blurted, looking up from the covers he had been examining as he spoke. “You have such a big heart Harry. You care so much for others and about doing the right thing. You’ve grown up to be a wonderful and giving young man. But you never seem to find room in that heart of yours for what you want. You let so many people into your heart with your kindness and you’re ability to see the goodness and value everyone, but you never let what you want….what your heart truly desires…..out.” Remus articulated as he leaned forward towards Harry. Harry looked back at him with a look of deep thought and a vague expression of incomprehension. “Harry….take it from an old man who’s spent most of his life pushing people away and running from love. I’ve gone through life thinking that nobody should have to be in a relationship with me because of what I am. I was…afraid to let anyone get close because the concerns and what-if’s that went with my condition were always at the front of my mind….instead of whether I really loved or cared for whoever I was with. It’s a hard and lonely life Harry….to keep pushing people away, protecting everyone you love,” He said, his voice drifting off as he dropped his gaze and drifting into thought. “Why does it have to be so hard?” Harry asked without thinking. “It’s not hard….we only make it seem that way Harry,” Remus said quietly. “We complicate things by letting our fears and qualms drown out what our hearts tell us.” The two of them sat in silence for a bit. Harry thinking about what Remus had said to him, a little confused at what it was all supposed to mean, and Remus sat there, letting the weight of his own words wash over him. “Well,” Remus said, clearing his throat and breaking the silence, “I need to check in with the Order meeting that’s going on….and you should try and get some rest” Harry nodded and relaxed back on his pillows as Remus exited the room, leaving him to think things over. Left in silence, Harry tried to relax and rest, but his mind was racing as he tried to convince himself over and over again that he was doing the right thing in keeping Ginny safe. But Remus’s words kept popping up, posing new questions as he tried to justify and solidify the reasons for his decision to break things off. Why did he always have to be the one to sacrifice things? Why did he put it upon himself to protect everyone else, even when, especially when, it never brought him full satisfaction? There was always something missing…something he felt he had when Ginny was around. She made him feel complete. Much more than a tool or someone who’s life was designed for one single and awful purpose….to save the world and everyone else but himself. And wasn’t his heart…his ability to love, supposed to be the one thing that he had over Voldemort? Hadn’t it saved him time after time….gave him the ‘power the dark lord knows not?’ So why did he allow that power to go unfulfilled? Incomplete? Why did he always push away his one source of comfort, the one light that shone and gave him hope for a future he never knew could exist for him….a future that he knew would only exist if he succeeded. ---------------------------- ------ Harry lay in the sitting room two days later, still allowing his mind to ponder the questions that Remus had engrained in his mind, when the door to the sitting room flew open. A very excited looking Ron and Hermione, followed closely by Bill, Charlie, Remus and Madam Pomfrey filed into the room and took up spots in chairs and in standing positions around his bed. “Well Harry….we’re breaking you free,” Ron said smirking. “Huh?” asked Harry, a bit confused as to why all these people had suddenly came into the room. “We’re going to get you up and out of that bed Harry,” chimed in Charlie as they began to clear away tables and chairs and make a wide area that was clear of obstacles. “Ok,” Harry replied with a bit of a grin on his face. He had wanted to get up from his bed ever since he awoke. “Right Mr. Potter…..before we can get you up I believe you’ll need these,” she said placing a pair of pajama bottoms on his bed. Harry’s face flushed red and he felt a heat creep up his neck as he realized he hadn’t been wearing anything since he had been taken to the ER after the accident. They had cut off his clothes to access his injuries and since then, the only thing he had covering him was a blanket or sheet. He really hadn’t had time to be embarrassed before, nobody had mentioned it. He grabbed for the pants and then stopped looking around questioningly at the Matron. He wasn’t going to change in front of everyone…especially Hermione and Madam Pomfrey. And he wasn’t sure he could maneuver into the pajama bottoms with one arm without falling out of his bed, completely starkers. “Ummmm…..how do I…how should I….” he mumbled, brandishing the pants. “I suppose we could transfigure them on you for now….until you can get up and do it on your own,” she said in a nonchalant way as if it was a perfectly normal predicament. The matron waved her wand at the pants which disappeared and then at Harry’s legs. He felt the odd sensation of fabric against his legs and lifted the blanket to see a loose elastic waistband across his waistline. He noticed it was lose enough to keep his pants on if he stood but loose enough to not cause discomfort against the swollen skin and bruised areas on his abdomen and lower torso. “We’ll start slow,” Madam Pomfrey informed him. “We’ll sit you up fully and swing your legs over the bed so your feet touch the floor. If that goes ok and you don’t get too dizzy we’ll help you stand up and see if you can make it to the chair,” she added, pointing to a puffy chair only seven or eight feet away from the bed. “Alright….let’s try it,” Harry said a bit anxiously. Harry pushed off of his left hand and attempted to bring himself to a full sitting position. As he pushed, he felt Charlie and Bill’s hands brace his back and push him up. His head swam a bit as his body adjusted to the change in angle. Madam Pomfrey signaled for him to swing his legs to the edge so he could reach the floor with his feet. As he went to shift his legs, he found them tired and heavy and could only slide them slowly across the sheets. “Harry do you need help?” asked Charlie as he watched Harry struggle to lift his legs to the edge. Harry shook his head, determined to do it himself. “Let him do it,” said Ron, giving Harry an encouraging smile. With Charlie and Bill supporting his back Harry slowly swung his hips and legs over the edge until his bare feet touched the soft carpet of the floor. “Dizzy?” asked Madam Pomfrey, bending down so she was at level where Harry was sitting. “No…I’m fine actually,” he answered truthfully. “Alright….Harry, put your arm around Bill, Charlie I need you to support his right side,” she ordered them. Harry swung his arm around Bill’s shoulder, who was squatting so Harry could easily reach him. Charlie came to Harry’s right side and awkward wrapped an arm around his back and put a hand on his side. “This alright?” Charlie asked quietly, looking up at Harry for assurance that he wasn’t hurting him or making him uncomfortable. Harry nodded his head and gave Charlie a small smile. Truth be told, he felt a bit odd with Charlie so close to the site of his amputated arm. Not that it hurt him, but he was afraid that he was making Charlie uncomfortable. “On three….I want you two to lift him gently and Harry try to stand ok? Only go as far as you can….if it starts to hurt…stop….don’t push things?” she said addressing the three of them. They all nodded in agreement and Harry took a deep breath as he got ready to stand up for the first time in over two weeks. “One….” “Two….” “Three…. ” Harry gave a great effort to straighten and put weight on his protesting legs as he felt Charlie and Bill try to right him and brace his weak frame at the same time. His legs burned and shook under him as they supported his weight for the first time. Pushing against a building pain, Harry went to straighten himself out so he could stand up straight instead of in the bent over position he was in. As he raised himself, the pain in his side and chest began to sharpen and his breathing began to labor. “Harry……” warned Remus as he watched him struggle and fight against his body. “Harry maybe you should stop….” Hermione said from her seat. Harry glared at her and shook his head violently at her in defiance. He straightened himself out as much as he could, not up to his full height, but far enough to bring him level with Bill and Charlie, who he was surprised to see were now shorter than he would be if he could stand straight. “I think that’s enough for today…..” Madam Pomfrey said, motioning for Bill and Charlie to help Harry back to bed. “N-o….” Harry forced between breaths. “Harry that was good…..” Remus said reasonably. “No….I can get…to…the…chair….” Harry snapped. It was becoming harder to breathe as he stood and his body was aching and shaking in protest. But he had to prove to himself he could do it…..he needed to get to that chair. Harry forced his foot forward and made Charlie and Bill grip him tighter to keep him from falling, but powerless to stop him from trying to walk. He forced his other foot to follow and move him forward more. His whole body was now visibly shaking and he could feel Bill and Charlie struggle to grip him as he began to sweat with the effort. He took a few more shaky and labored steps and was halfway to the chair. He was gasping and sucking in deep, wheezing breaths now….his chest was tightening and pulling against the effort. With his next step he his legs finally gave out and he fell towards the floor, Bill and Charlie frantically trying to stop him. They caught him and lowered him into a sitting position against him. He was now wheezing and breathing rapidly and uncontrollably, his head spinning and vision blurring as he fought against his body and his growing and anger and frustration. “Get the mask,” he heard Madam Pomfrey cry. He heard someone frantically scrambling, tossing aside tables and bottles. “Harry calm down,” he heard Remus say in his ear as the oxygen mask that had been placed over his mouth when he first came to Grimmauld Place was now placed on his face again. He had been forced to wear it the first two days he had been awake, but as his breathing had gotten better he had only had to wear it when he went to bed. Eventually he hadn’t had to wear it at all….except for when he woke up and found someone had placed it back on him because he had started gasping in his sleep. “Breathe Harry,” Bill whispered in his ear. Harry’s breathe was still racing and his body still shaking as he tried to take in the cool oxygen circulating around his nose and mouth. But as he looked up at the people now gathered around him, holding him, looking at him like he was sort of invalid, he felt a deep well of frustration and anger at the unfairness of his situation bubble up and pour out. In an act of frustration he ripped the mask off of his face, still gasping and struggling to breathe. “Leave it on!” cried Remus as he replaced the mask. “N…0!!” cried Harry, ripping the mask from his face, leaving deep red lines where the cord holding it on had rubbed his skin. “Leave…me….alo-ne!” he gasped, pushing Bill away with his left arm and trying to twist from Charlie. “Settle down Harry! We’re trying to help you,” Charlie bellowed, trying to calm Harry who was thrashing about in anger and panic. “I…don’t….want….help” he gasped, tears of frustration filling his eyes. He didn’t want to be hurt anymore. He didn’t want to have to depend on that mask to breathe. He wanted to go back to normal. “Harry…..” Ron said quietly, kneeling down in front of him. “Please put on the mask,” Ron asked quietly, holding it up. Harry continued to breathe heavily, staring from Ron’s pleading face to the oxygen mask in his hand. “Please….” He asked quietly again. Harry stared into the eyes of his best friend and they calmed him a bit and lessened his anger and frustration. Harry realized that this was as tough on Ron as it was him. Ron had had to sit there waiting to hear if he was alive or dead. Ron had been the one sitting with him when they weren’t sure if he was ever going to wake up. Ron had been there to watch him struggle to right himself and come to terms with everything, powerless to do anything to help Harry. Harry shakily nodded and let the tears he had been holding back leak down his cheeks. “I…hate…this…” he cried raggedly as Ron helped him slide the mask back on. “I know mate….” Ron whispered with a small nod. Harry let the cool air begin to take effect and he soon found his breathing slow and his breaths began become less labored. He didn’t know what had set him off. The moment he found he couldn’t stand or walk on his own and they wouldn’t let him try, he felt that deep despair that had hit him the day he had broken down after looking at himself for the first time. They were trying to help….he knew that. But it was his fear of being dependant on someone else, of not getting back to a sense of normalcy that had scared him. Since the accident he had felt helpless, powerless to do anything. The mask reminded him of when he had been dependent on the ventilator to breathe, it reminded him how hurt and weak he really was. “Let’s get you back to bed,” Bill whispered quietly as Harry sat on the floor, trying to control his breathing. Before he could answer, he felt Charlie and Bill slide hands underneath his legs and arm and lift him up, slowly making their way to the bed before they gently lay him down again. “Harry I would like you to leave the mask on until tomorrow,” Madam Pomfrey told him in a measured and quiet tone. “It’ll make it easier to go without it if you let your lungs rest.” Harry nodded reluctantly, focusing on his breathing and avoiding the other’s worried and uneasy looks. Bill, Charlie, and Madam Pomfrey left, leaving Remus, Ron and Hermione to sit with him. As he sat trying to gather himself again, his eyes searched around the room and noticed that some of his things had been brought from Privet Drive. His trunk was sitting in the corner and a few of his pictures and posters had been hung up. Perhaps they had done it while he was sleeping. As he scanned the room he saw his Firebolt leaning in the corner. He stopped focusing on keeping his breathing under control when a heavy reality hit him, something that had failed to occur to him before. “I’m not ever going to play Quidditch again,” he said in a dead voice. “What?” asked Hermione, as though she hadn’t heard him clearly. “Quidditch,” he breathed, staring at his prized broom. “I can’t play anymore.” There was an uncomfortable silence that filled the room. The people sitting around his bed stared nervously at one another and then back at the glazed-looking Harry, who was staring unblinkingly at his Firebolt. “Harry…” blurted Ron, “you’re the best Seeker to come out of Hogwarts, I’m sure you’ll be able to…..” “Don’t humor me Ron,” Harry snapped. “I’ve never heard of a one armed Seeker, have you? Kind of hard to stay on a broom and catch the Snitch, isn’t it?” All three of them looked at a loss for what to say or how to comfort Harry in any way. So instead, they sat in a deafening silence, waiting for someone else to talk next. “I’m tired,” Harry grunted, breaking the heavy awkwardness and turning onto his left side and away from Hermione, Ron and Remus. The three of them took that as their cue to leave, so they stood up and quietly left Harry to be alone. Harry lay on his side, listening to their footsteps retreating across the room and for the door to close. When they had gone, he rolled back onto his back and stared listlessly at the ceiling let this new well of despair and hopelessness wash over him. Why had he not thought of it before? Not only would he have to worry about how he was supposed to vanquish Voldemort with one arm, but now he had to deal with the loss of the sport that made him feel at home. The Quidditch Pitch was the one place where he could let everything else fall away and he could concentrate on only that little gold ball for hours at a time. Flying felt natural to him, it came easy, it was his respite from his uncertain life. And now he couldn’t even have that. As he lay in the empty room and let sleep take him away unwillingly, he thought of all he’d lost and he still had to face. He had been shaken to the core lately while coming to terms with the ramifications from the accident. And as hard as it had been already, he knew there would be more to come A/N: Not sure how well recieved this chapter will be. I sort of had a tough time getting things the way I wanted so I can go where I plan on going in the next chapter....please review this one...give me feedback good or bad! Thanks! |
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