|
Normalcy | ||||||
|
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: 501482; Chapter Total: 10257 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: I don't own anything. JK Rowling owns the entire Potter Universe. No copyright infringment is intended. I just write fan fic for fun and to take up time. |
Previous Next |
|
||||
|
Chapter 40: If Tragedy's Appealing, Distaster's an Addicition Harry found himself in a cool, dark place, floating around on unseen waters and drifting peacefully in the inky darkness. As he floated around in the unknown, he realized that he couldn't feel his body at all. In fact, he wasn't even sure if he had one anymore...it certainly didn't feel like it. And what was more, the fact that he couldn't distinguish his physical self from his surroundings, was not disconcerting or troublesome to him in the least. He was quite content to drift along in this state, free from worry or care as long as he was able to. He had no burning to desire to return back to any reality at all or leave this peaceful medium. Perhaps he'd Apparated himself to a different dimension altogether, one where you live in complete harmony and time consists only of an endless cycle of absolute bliss. Or maybe he'd splinched his brain out of his body and he was dead or in some other incapacitated form. Either way...he didn't mind and it wasn't a pressing matter to him at the moment. Finding out if he was able to wake from this, wasn't one of his top priorities. Waking meant finding out if he had succeeded in Apparating out of the Smith family mansion and away from Voldemort. Or finding out if he had not been triumphant and was now helplessly in the clutches of the Dark Lord and his minions or perhaps dead. Waking or leaving this place meant learning if Ron and Hermione were okay and if they had made the journey with him at all. Rising from this state meant dealing with the repercussions of his unplanned and spur of the moment actions and finding and figuring out exactly where he had landed them. With all that said, he was really hoping for the first scenario of having landed himself in some ether dimension, where he'd be free of carrying his burden...free of anything at all. But it all seemed too good to be true and in an instant, Harry found himself being tossed into those water depths he had only moments before been floating along peacefully on. He was overcome by a sudden sensation of drowning, as if a large had broke over him and submerged him. With that wave, all feeling and sense seemed to rush back into his body and he was now fully aware that he hurt something fierce, every fiber of his body feeling as though it had been beaten and whipped repeatedly. His head ached, fit to burst, as if the pressure inside was building against his skull and as he tried to draw in air, his lungs were heavy and laden as though filled with sand. As he struggled blindly, trying hard to get some sort of grip on the situation, he began to hear a faint buzzing drone, punctuated every few seconds by what sounded like a hint of a voice trying to cut through the static on a poorly tuned radio. The buzzing continued to get louder and as it did, he was able to distinguish the noise, the voice within it that made him try and fight hard to return from this darkness. "Come on Harry!" a girl's panicked sounding voice broke through to him, the tone of it wavering and bending as though traveling some sort of ethereal medium to get there. "Here...prop his head up a bit," another voice, a male's voice, drifted to him faintly and he actually felt his head being moved and shifted into a new position. As this was done, the pain within his body and the aching within his lungs and head intensified and he felt himself begin to cough, choking on a slippery substance that drown his senses and filled his mouth and nose. "Turn him on his side," the male voice rasped, sounding alarmed. Harry felt cold hands slide down his back and side grabbing and grasping at his skin as his world spun and he continued to sputter and heave, trying hard to expel whatever was suffocating him. "That's it mate, get it all out. Come on," the voice broke in again, sounding worried yet encouraging as Harry felt a soft pounding on his back, causing him to cough even harder. "Out with it...that's the ticket." Light began to filter in through his eyelids as he struggled and slowly Harry opened his eyes. A wet, white, sandy world came into view as he panted and gasped, pushing hard to clear his throat and lungs. An endless amount of white, foamy liquid poured from his mouth and nose and wet the sand beside him, stinging painfully as it was expelled through his nasal passages. He lay on his side for what seemed like forever, coughing hard and trying to get the heavy weight out of his lungs and off his chest, as more of what looked like a mixture of water and his own stomach bile cleansed the sand. It was only when his distress began to slow and he found it easier to breathe, that he was made aware of the soothing hand that was rubbing gently at the back of his neck and through his wet hair, whispering soothing words quietly as another arm held him fast around the chest. He was also able to realize that, not only was his hair wet, but his clothes and his cloak seemed to be completely saturated around him, heavy and sopping, the cold of them sending a chill down to his aching and battered bones. As he continued to pant and gasp, trying to control and ease his breathing, he once again felt cool hands grab him around the side and middle. The world was spun once more until all he could see was grey sky as he lay there with his head a slight angle as it set on a soft, cool pillow in the sand. "It's alright...just relax now Harry," Hermione's voice comforted softly from above him, causing him to loll slightly towards the sound. Hermione's face swam into view upside down over him as he tried hard to focus on her. Her hair looked to be just as sopping wet as his own as it hung lank around her face, small droplets hitting Harry's forehead as she leaned over him. Her cheeks were red and her face damp from wind and water. "It's ok," she whispered quietly wrapping her other arm around him and rocked gently from side to side as if to try and spell the cold from her own body. It suddenly became clear that the pillow he thought he'd been propped up on was Hermione's lap. And if he'd had the strength and the presence of mind...he might be embarrassed. But his battered body and clouded mind proved more pressing than his shyness and he continued to lie with his head in Hermione's lap as she tried to comfort him and aid his attempts to catch up with himself. "A--ar--" Harry tried to gasp, but found it hard to let air stay in his raw lungs and throat long enough to form the words. "Mate...just rest a bit. Take it easy for a while," Ron soothed from somewhere to his side and Harry forced his head slowly and painfully in the direction of his best friend's voice. Ron was sitting crouched near his knees with a hand on Harry's leg, scrutinizing and watching him carefully, his eyes filled with worry and concern that didn't seem to bode well. "A-re...yo-u...o-k?" Harry breathed out in great puffs, ignoring Ron's suggestion. As he spoke, the cold began to take over and his teeth began to shatter and his body shiver. "You should really be the one to ask that," Ron said sarcastically, an amused grin toying at his features, his eyes lightening a bit. "We're not the ones who Apparated three people clear across the country and landed us in the bloody channel," Ron sneered and Harry noticed too that his red hair was wet, plastered to his forehead in great dark clumps. Droplets of residual water clung to his chin and dripped from his forehead down his long nose. Ron was shivering slightly as he perched there, wrapped in his soaked traveling cloak. "The--ch--channel?" Harry panted, a searing pain shooting up his chest as he spoke. "Yes...but just a little ways off the shore," Hermione answered, still holding Harry tight. "We both made it in ok." "Yeah...but you decided you'd like to try your hand at drowning...seems as though you thought you'd be able to swim while you were unconscious," Ron joked, seeming a bit more at ease now that Harry'd returned to the living and was talking. "You gave us a right scare mate. You've got to stop doing this to us," Ron teased, but sounded a bit more serious about things. "I--I just--" he began, scrunching his eyes against the soreness that was throbbing throughout his body. "I--had to--get us--out of there. I didn't--know--" "It's ok Harry. We're all ok now. I don't know how...but we're here...we're safe," Hermione assured him. "How the hell did you get us all out of there?" Ron asked. "I tried as hard as I could but there were wards blocking Apparition. But you just grabbed onto us and the next thing I knew I was swallowing a mouthful of seawater and trying to lug your sorry arse out of the waves." "Just...thought...thought about Wales...and...Valley Broad," Harry explained the best he could, feeling a sudden wave of nausea wash over him as he tried to speak. He didn't know what exactly was making him feel so horrid. He didn't think that having swallowed a lot of water while he was unconscious and nearly drowning would have made him feel like utter shit, but he felt like he'd gotten the beating of his life nonetheless. "I think we're on the western coast of Wales. It has stretches of sandy beach like this one and it's more wild and uninhabited. This is most likely the Bristol Channel," Hermione reasoned as she gestured out over the water. "How do--how'd we know?" Harry breathed out. "We don't--not for sure. But given that you had the strength to Apparate us out of anti--Apparition wards, I'd say you'd probably managed to get us close to where we're supposed to be," Hermione offered. "Or we could just as well be on the west coast of America instead of Wales...given that he had the power enough to get us out," Ron half-joked, half-reasoned, interjecting a bit more worry into the current situation than particularly necessary. "No...no we're not in America. You can only cross the major oceans at special times and from special Apparation points because it's such a long distance and it's a difficult and tricky trip," Hermione said casually as if reciting a fact from Hogwarts: A History. "Well considering we weren't supposed to be able to get out of that house...I'd say anything's poss--" Ron began, but a groan of discomfort from Harry cut across him as Harry tried unsuccessfully to get up from Hermione's lap and sit up so he could get a better look at his surroundings. "Harry, lay back down," Hermione commanded worriedly just as Harry collapsed back into her lap, holding a hand to his forehead and letting out another hiss of pain. "Well...for the moment I don't think it matters where we are," Ron said as he watched Harry carefully. "Because one thing's for sure...you're not going anywhere soon mate. Not in this condition." "What's..w-wrong...wi-th. ..me?" Harry said through chattering teeth. "You're exhausted," Hermione answered. "It must have taken a lot out of you magically to just get us out of that house against the wards. It's tough to side-along one person without feeling affects and without having to work against any barriers...but two people and at the distance we traveled...It's not surprising you don't feel well. And add onto it the fact that you nearly drowned on us and I'd say you'll feel pretty shaky for a while." "Not to mention's its bloody freezing out here," Ron complained aloud while, shaking and shivering against his own discomfort. "The wind coming off that water is darn right wicked," he added as a fierce gale simultaneously whipped at their faces. "I think they're the Westerlies from the Atlantic. They sink a lot of ships around the coastal area here," Hermione informed them, spewing out another bout of knowledge. "And it is mid-November, winter's nearly set in." "Well whatever the case...I think we need to get into some cover...maybe dry off a bit," Ron replied, gesturing off away from the water. But at the sudden talk of taking cover, a horrifying and terrible thought crossed Harry's mind and panic once again set in. "We need to get out of here," Harry said much more clearly, trying to push himself once again and managing a bit more than before. "Hey, slow down!" Ron warned as he rushed to grab Harry around the shoulders. "We need...to get...as far away as possible," Harry pressed trying to use Ron to hoist himself to his feet, but they were heavy and unresponsive, not to mention aching and burning against the effort. "He'll…find us. He'll have...the map and...he'll know...he'll come," Harry tried to explain more urgently, but his breathing continued to hinder him. "I beg your pardon," Ron said dead seriously as he looked Harry in the eye. "But he--has not--got the map," Ron said slowly, yet confidently as he reached into the sopping folds of his cloak and withdrew a slightly damp stretch of canvas. "I may have been scared--but there was no way I was handing this over," he added as a ghost of a cocky smirk lit up his face as Harry's jaw dropping in wonder as he wobbled and clung to Ron for support. "You--grabbed it?" Harry asked flabbergasted as he gaped at the rolled up and folded fabric that Ron was holding out. "What part of 'I wasn't going to hand it over' didn't you understand now?" Ron teased, grinning proudly and broadly. "Bloody hell..." Harry breathed out as a smile took over his own face. "Mate...if I even remotely swung that way...I think I could kiss you right now..." Harry added in elation and supreme relief. "I knew you had a thing for red heads Potter...but please...hold off on that manly urge of yours and I'll take a 'thank you' instead," Ron responded, sounding thoroughly disgusted and disturbed just thinking about the idea. Harry chuckled heartily and nodded his head in acknowledgement of his best friend's desperate wish not to be snogged by another bloke. "Now that you two have gotten over your awkward homophobic moment..." Hermione said in an amused sort of way. "I think that maybe we should think about getting some cover. We need somewhere to rest and figure out what to do from here and I don't think we'll get much accomplished out on the open beach," she finished. "Let's try for that tree-line," Ron said, pointing off away from the shore where Harry saw now that the beach ended and the wilderness and unknown began. "We'll see what's in there and go a little ways in...maybe get a fire going so we can dry off...warm up a bit," Ron added. "We could just use a drying spell on our clothes--" Hermione began to suggest. "No...Voldemort might not have the map...but that doesn't mean he couldn't somehow find us. I'm sure I left behind some sort of trace when I Apparated...all magic leaves signs and residual energy behind," Harry corrected her, remembering his fateful foray into the cave with Dumbledore during the past June and how he had watched Dumbledore gather clues seemingly out of nowhere using those leftover traces. "And I'm sure if I did manage to Apparate us anywhere near Valley Broad and Hufflepuff's castle...then I'm sure there are more things out there protecting it than just invisibility or un-plottable charms. We have to try and stay undetected...and not using magic is our best bet." "Right..." Ron agreed. "So I guess I have to haul your lazy arse all the way across the beach seeing as Levitation charms are out of the question and you're certainly not making it there on your own," Ron supplied grudgingly as he was now supporting the majority of Harry's body weight as they kneeled in the sand. "I can walk," Harry said challengingly as he tried to get himself back to his feet. "I bet you can," Ron sniggered as Harry stumbled and staggered, trying to support himself to prove his point. "Oh no you don't," Hermione chastised him as it was obvious he wasn't able to stand, quickly slipping his free arm around her shoulders and holding him up on his other side so that he was suspended between the two, quite unable to try and bear his own weight. Grudgingly, yet grateful, Harry allowed his two friends to drag him across the beach, trying as he might to aid in the slow process. As they made their way towards the trees, Harry had to admit that there would have been no way he'd have made the short trek by himself. Every part of him, even as he did very little, was screaming in protest and his entire being...down to the hair on his head, ached and throbbed at any little movement or jostle. He certainly seemed to be in pretty rough shape and he couldn't help but wish they'd reach the tree line a bit faster so he could lie down again. Almost when it seemed that the pain and discomfort might become so unbearable to the point where he might pass out and Harry thought he might ask Ron and Hermione if they could rest for a second, they came to a stop a short way within the trees, the sand turning into grass and rock beneath his feet. "Alright...here's a nice--er--soft--tree," Ron said slowly and sarcastically as he and Hermione lowered Harry onto the ground, propping him against the said tree, making sure he wasn't about to fall over. When he was properly situated, Ron sat unceremoniously on the ground next to Harry and caught his own breathe and let his body relax. Hermione on the other hand, began to dig through the pack she had brought along, throwing and tossing aside ruined papers and books, soaked through by the water. Harry lay back against the tree, watching her carefully with one eye open as he tried to keep his sudden urge to nod off and succumb to his body's needs, wondering what she was looking for. "Hey! What're you doing?" Ron asked sharply as Hermione moved from her own pack to Ron's which was also soaked through and worse for wear. "Seeing if any of us thought to bring any useful supplies," Hermione said off-handedly as she continued rummaging through Ron's bag. "Nice Ron," Hermione said with a smirk as she pulled out a pair of sodden and soaked boxers. "Hey...my mum always told us kids never to go on any trip without bringing a fresh change of underwear. And most of what my Mum's got to say is worth taking heed to," Ron said proudly. Both Harry and Hermione laughed, though Harry a bit more quietly as it was becoming more difficult to stay conscious for him. "Well they won't do you any good seeing as they're completely soaked," Hermione said, tossing them along with the rest of the ruined items. "I brought two blankets...they seem to be dry for the most part...."she added pointing to a pile of discarded, green blankets lying on the grass beside her. "You both didn't happen to bring any spare clothes or anything that might help?" she asked the boys. "Just the invisibility cloak," Harry said faintly. "But it's inside my traveling cloak and I'm sure it's as wet as the rest of me," he added as he gestured to himself, his limbs heavy and laden, even the small effort grinding on him. "I packed some sausages and a couple packages of crisps," Ron added, pointing towards his pack. Hermione reached farther into his bag and pulled out the said items. The sausages looked slightly wet, the outer wrapping they had been encased in was soggy, but it looked like they might be salvageable. There were two packages of crisps that also looked perfectly fine, having still been unopened in their plastic container. Hermione eyed the items wearily, as if debating whether to point out the fact that Ron made it a priority to bring along food and a pair of boxers instead of research or first aid items. "What?" Ron said, picking up on Hermione's facial expression. "We need to eat. And I'm glad I was thinking ahead. Who knows what we'll be able to get a hold of for food out here?" Ron added as he looked around at the forest around them. Harry had to agree that Ron had made a valid point and was grateful for his friend's priorities lying in his stomach. Though, at the moment, Harry felt too weak and nauseous to even think about eating. "We'll have to make do with what we have," Hermione said firmly as she eyed the soggy food items and slightly damp blankets amongst the otherwise washed out and completely soaked garments and papers. "First things first, we'll have to gather some wood to make a fire--" "But we can't use magic--" Ron interrupted, seeing the first problem with this plan already. "I believe that wizards aren't the only forms of life capable of producing a fire Ron," Hermione said quite patiently. "We'll have to improvise--we don't have any matches--so we'll have to see if we can't use stones to spark it. We'll need some dry brush too for kindling...." Hermione added, somewhat to herself, but Ron seemed to be listening, hoisting himself off of the ground and looking around for any branches or brush he could use. Within a few minutes, Ron and Hermione had collectively gathered a small pile of brush and wood, placing it in the center of a little circle of trees the Trio had made their own safe hold. Harry watched through tired eyes as his two friends worked, crouched around the small pit, striking rocks together to see if they couldn't get a spark to ignite the dry grasses that might fuel the bigger pieces of wood. Harry wished he could help; it was obvious that the other two were tired and clearly cold and uncomfortable in their own water-logged clothing. But it would have been impossible for him to muster enough energy to even make a suggestion; he was that utterly exhausted and spent that talking or even whispering might tax him beyond help. With a small cry of accomplishment Ron suddenly leapt up from where he had been huddled next to Hermione, who was watching a clump of dry brush slowly smolder and burn, the embers breaking off and catching the other timber on fire around it. Harry managed a small smile of amusement at his best friend's antics and leaned his head back farther against the tree with a sigh of contentment. Hermione continued to tend to the new flame, moving around branches and brush to make sure it all burned evenly and wasn't in danger of going out. After a while, she had the fire going steadily and she stood up and backed away to admire her work. "That ought to be good for a while. We'll have to keep adding branches and wood as we go...but I think it'll work," Hermione said optimistically as she turned to Ron, who was watching the fire enthusiastically, as if immensely proud of what they'd managed to do without magic. Hermione's eyes then landed on Harry, who tried to meet her gaze without his eyes drooping and to prop himself up in a bit more dignified position as if to hide his incredible exhaustion; failing miserably at both tasks. "Let's get you closer to the fire Harry," Hermione said at once, looking to Ron for help to move him. "We need to get you out of those clothes too...we all should so we don't catch our deaths in this weather," she added, noticing the chill in the air from the winter weather that clung to their drenched clothes and cloaks, despite the protection the trees were giving them from the winds off the coast. Hermione must have been too busy worrying about getting Harry situated and what their next move would be, because she failed to notice the looks of confusion and semi-horror on both Ron's and Harry's faces at the mention of un-robing. "My--my clothes?" Harry stuttered, his voice suddenly sounding a bit stronger than he felt. "Yes...we'll set them to dry by the fire and use the blankets to wrap up in," Hermione said matter-of-factly, as if getting starkers was no big deal. "We'll warm up and dry off a lot quicker and you might feel a bit better once we don't have them on Harry." "But we don't have anything to change into," Ron said, still trying to cotton onto why Hermione was so keen to strip down. "All our stuff's completely soaked." "We don't need anything...as long as we're dry...we'll keep any chance of getting hypothermia out here at bay," Hermione added, sounding a bit impatient that the boys were having such difficulty with this subject. "If we sit by the fire and cover up...we'll be fine for the night and until our clothes dry out." "There are only two blankets," interjected Harry suddenly, trying to come up with another reason not to follow Hermione's plan. "So..." Hermione replied. "Harry you'll have one and Ron and--myself--will share another," she added hesitantly, a blush coloring her cheeks faintly at the mention or her and Ron sharing a blanket. "I like that plan," Ron said very quickly, his eyes lighting up as he reached to peel off his heavy, water soaked cloak and shirt. "Ron," Hermione reacted sharply, hitting him hard on the shoulder causing him to recoil in fear of another blow. "Look," she began again, noticing the apprehension still on Harry's face at the idea. "I'm not suggesting this to make anyone uncomfortable or to make anyone think he's getting any," she added, glaring pointedly at Ron, whose jaw dropped at the insinuation. "But it's going to get very cold out and we need to do whatever we can to brave the elements if we're not using magic out here. And shivering takes a lot of energy and a toll on a body and we're all already doing a lot of that. And--you Harry--don't need to expend anymore energy right now," she finished seriously. Harry took in her words, knowing without a doubt that she was right. But that didn't make the idea of getting starkers in front of his friends any more welcome to him. Ron he didn't mind. They'd shared a dorm for six years and spent summers in the same room at the Burrow and had seen each other in all sorts of states. Hermione on the other hand, no matter how good of a friend she was, there were just some things he'd rather keep to himself and not give her privy on. Reluctantly, Harry sighed and nodded his head in agreement. "Alright," he muttered quietly, giving in and putting aside his sudden fear and inhibitions. "Are you gonna need help there mate?" Ron asked, any joking or teasing left out of his voice as he questioned Harry. Harry considered him for a second, knowing full well that he hadn't the energy to undress himself or even move to do so and also that Ron was not ribbing him or taking any shots at him. The question was fully out of concern between best friends. Harry inclined his head and breathed out a nearly inaudible 'yes' in response. Understanding Harry's barely audible admission, Ron moved forward and crouched beside Harry and the tree, reaching up slowly to unclasp his traveling cloak as Harry lifted his head slightly to allow Ron to work. With Hermione's help to help Harry sit up and lean forward so they could release the rest of the cloak trapped beneath and behind him before moving onto Harry's t-shirt which was plastered and glued to his torso. With a great combined effort, while trying not to jostle him too much, they succeeded in peeling off his saturated shirt with a loud suctioning and sucking sound as it peeled away from his damp skin. Free of his chilled t-shirt, Harry also realized that the metal from his right arm was creating an unpleasant cold sensation where it attached to his shoulder, adding more discomfort to the situation. Fumbling and feebly, Harry reached towards his upper arm with his left hand slipping his slightly numb fingers in between the bars, trying to find the groove that would allow him to release the prosthetic from its hold on his shoulder. But the cold was doing a number on his exposed fingers and he found it difficult to get a good enough grip and enough strength to pull and maneuver the different mechanics to where they were supposed to be. He was about to grumble in frustration at his inability to complete such a simple task, when he felt another pair of cold fingers close around his own, trying to help find the grooves. Harry looked sideways at Ron, who was concentrating hard on the arm. "Push them in, move forward, then lift up," Harry whispered in instruction. Ron nodded and did as told, the arm coming off easily and relieving Harry of the frosty metal that was biting into his flesh. The skin where it had been was red, raw, and numb from the contact. "Do you think you'll be able to lean on me and stand long enough for us to get you out of those jeans?" Ron asked, his face again appearing near Harry's as he crouched next to him. "For a bit," Harry managed, trying to gauge by just sitting here if he would be able to. Ron accepted that he'd probably have to bear most of Harry's dead weight for him and moved to his left side, flinging Harry's arm around his shoulders as he roughly hoisted him off the ground, waiting momentarily while Harry tried his best to contribute to the effort. When both boys were standing, Hermione moved to stand in front of Harry and gave him a hesitant look before reaching toward his buckle to undo his belt. Harry closed his eyes and flinched slightly as her cold hands fumbled to the chilled steel of the buckle. It wasn't as if he was worried about a reaction of his own from Hermione's touch...it was a bit too cold for that. And it wasn't the first time he'd had a girl removing his trouser...albeit Hermione was doing it for completely different reasons than Ginny had. But this was Hermione. His best friend, someone who was completely plutonic to him and definitely not his girlfriend. Add the embarrassment and the shame he was feeling for not being able to do it himself, and the whole situation was just awkward. "Sorry," Hermione muttered apologetically as she bent down and lifted up one of Harry's feet to untangle the sopping wet denim from around his ankles, causing him to tip precariously against Ron. "S'ok," Harry mumbled back, trying to help by lifting his foot up as much as he could to aid in the process, stabbing pains erupting in his quad and calf muscles as he did so. But his effort paid off and he was soon free of the cumbersome garment. "Ok...now...now we...we just," Hermione began to stutter as she reached out again towards Harry's waist. "I mean...I need to...or...should Ron..." she continued to fumble. Several things slowly clicked into place in Harry's brain and he realized she was trying to relay that she needed to removed his last and most revealing piece of clothing and wasn't sure if she should or perhaps Ron should do the honors. Harry also came to the sudden realization that he didn't want them off for several very good, completely rational reasons. "Leave em' on," Harry grumbled quickly, just as Hermione's hand gently touched his waistband. She pulled her hand away as if she had been caught dipping into a forbidden cookie jar. "But...but they're soaked as well Harry," Hermione explained softly. "You'll be much warmer and I don't think you want to--er--be--cold--in certain places..." "I reckon we're already way past that point," Ron sniggered quietly from beside him. Harry turned his head towards Ron who was smiling slightly and who, when their gazes met, raised his eyebrows in an understanding fashion. "Let's just get him in a blanket and near the fire," Ron said a bit louder as he looked around Harry at Hermione who was watching the two of them carefully. "He'll be fine," he assured her. "Alright..." Hermione said slowly as she turned away to retrieve the blankets, still scrutinizing the two boys who looked as though they both trying to keep from saying something. She came back with one of the large blankets and Ron helped her sling it around Harry's shoulders and wrap it around him. And then in another joint effort, they started to help him move towards the fire where he could get warm. "You know Harry...I didn't mean to make you feel nervous before," Hermione apologized to him as she and Ron helped set him down on the grass as gently as they could manage and Ron moved away to tend to the fire which had began to dwindle a bit. "I mean--I wouldn't have--er--stared--or anything," she struggled, seeming flustered with herself that she was sharing this. "I was just trying to help out--" "Oh...Harry appreciates the help Hermione," Ron interrupted as he sat down unceremoniously next to Harry and started to remove his own shoes and socks that were filled and soaked with seawater. "I just reckon that he's gone a bit--shy--given the current situation and all. Happens to the best of us from time to time. Not much we can do about it," Ron continued with a sly grin as he extricated himself from his water-logged cloak and began to peel away his own t-shirt. Harry scrunched his face tight in an effort to stop himself from laughing out loud at Ron's tactful way of explaining things. "Well...I don't think there's anything to be shy about. We've known each other for nearly seven years," Hermione began, causing Ron and Harry to exchanged highly amused glances before looking away, biting their lips and trying not to bust out. "We've been through a lot together and we should be leery of--" "Hermione," Harry breathed out with effort, a combination of exhaustion and the fact that he was trying hard not to break down laughing at her total clueless-ness. "It's not a personality flaw of mine...believe me," he said with a tired smile and as straight a face as he could manage, at the same time he slowly lowered himself onto his side where he lay in the grass with the blanket wrapped firmly around him.. "Yeah...my bashfulness has nothing to do with my personality either," Ron chuckled as he too had succeeded in removing all of his saturated clothes and was sitting on the grass in naught but his boxers, wringing out his hair and shaking the excess water out like a dog. "Huh?" was all Hermione could manage as she looked confusedly back and forth between Harry, who was on the ground trying not to cry from laughter and to fall asleep at the same time and to Ron who was acting nonchalant and as though his offhanded, insinuating comments were anything but. "Never mind," Ron said with a small laugh. "Go take your clothes off," he ordered playfully, getting the intended reaction as Hermione's jaw dropped and Harry pulled the covers over his face and rolled over towards the fire. "I might have to come over and shield you...make sure this pervert doesn't watch you undress," he teased, pointing at Harry, who had produced his hand from the folds of his blanket and hastily made one of his fingers prominent and visible above all the others, waving it around in Ron's general direction. But if Ron did get to play human shield for Hermione or if anything else happened in the advent of stripping out of their freezing and water-soaked clothes, Harry hadn't a clue. In one overwhelming and instantaneous moment, his exhaustion and the battered nature of his body took over and sleep crashed over him like a huge wave and washed away reality once more. --------------------------------- -------- It wasn't a stray slit of sunlight or a slight hand that shook Harry from his slumber, but the smell of freshly cooked sausages that wafted past his nose and roused his senses. The smell was heavenly and his previous nausea was forgotten, replaced by an intense hunger and a rumbling and clearly audible stomach. Harry rolled slowly from his back onto his side towards the fire, to catch a glimpse of those magnificent morsels and to make sure that his overactive stomach and imagination were not playing tricks on him. To his delight, Ron was sitting cross legged next to the still glowing fire, holding a hissing and juicy sausage over the flames on the end of a long stick, turning and moving it around to cook it evenly. Ron was staring intently into the fire, concentrating on the task at hand. Harry could see that Ron was dressed back in his presumably dry clothes and cloak, as Harry did not know how long he'd been out. "Hey," Ron greeted quietly as he looked up from the fire, noticing that Harry was stirring and currently watching him. Harry nodded and pulled himself into a sitting position, finding the excruciating pain from when he was previously awake gone, replaced by a dull ache and overall stiffness that he'd have associated with an short illness. "Feeling any better?" Ron questioned as he withdrew the sausage from the fire and tested the outside of it for coolness and doneness with a finger. "A bit," Harry admitted, rolling his neck to get the kinks out. "I feel like I just got over a bout of the flu or something," he added further, continuing to stretch out his tired muscles. "Well I reckon that's loads better than the state you were in before," Ron admitted truthfully. "Least you're able to sit up all by yourself." "Yeah..." Harry sighed. "But I still feel like I've been ripped apart in a million different directions and pieced back together the same amount of ways," he grumbled as the stiffness and aching in his bones continued. "Well I suppose in a way you were," Ron reasoned, taking the sausage from the poker and breaking it in half, handing over to Harry, who took it eagerly. "Can't imagine how you could stay all put together when you Apparate...that's how splinching happens I reckon...when you don't bring all you're parts along. So you're bloody lucky that you didn't splinch yourself into those million pieces mate...leaving bits of yourself across the countryside. Especially since you traveled so far and brought us along as well." Harry cringed outwardly, thinking about just how painful and horrifying it would have been if he had indeed splinched himself. It was a wonder how he had gotten them to this location, and from a place surrounded by wards preventing Apparation. And it was even more awful to think of what could have happened to Ron and Hermione if he hadn’t been able to do it successfully. He didn’t even want to think of the consequences of a mishap. “Well…now that you’re feeling a bit better and you’ve had a kip to eat,” Ron said, taking out another sausage and putting it the end of his home-made poker. “I reckon you don’t want to go round in your bare essentials anymore. Our clothes are all pretty dry…except both our jeans were still a bit damp…but not too bad,” Ron added, pointing to where his clothes were laid out next to the fire. Harry’s t-shirt, cloak and socks looked completely dried. But he could see that his jeans were a bit damp at the seams. As he surveyed his own clothes, he also got a glimpse of Hermione’s drying garments next to his. Her t-shirt, trousers, shoes, socks and cloak were all lying neat and tidy next to a pink and very lacy bra. Harry quickly felt himself go pink and he tore his eyes away from the unmentionable piece of clothing. But not before his eyes swept over the sleeping form of the said girl, wrapped tightly in the green blanket on the other side of the fire. A very awkward and uncomfortable feeling washed over Harry as he came to the realization that, while Hermione was completely covered up and nothing was visible, she was still lying there with not top or anything covering her chest. He didn’t know exactly why it was making him so uneasy to think of Hermione in that state of undress. She was after all, only doing what he and Ron had done to keep dry and to keep the cold at bay. Maybe it was the fact that, while guys could go around bare-chested and without a shirt no problem, it was not proper for a girl unless they were partaking in more--intimate--activities; which they most definitely were not. And tack on the idea that Harry thought of Hermione as a sister, and the whole situation was just weird. Ron did not seem to notice Harry's internal freak-out and continued to turn the next sausage idly, staring off into the fire, seemingly mesmerized by it. Harry decided to get his mind off its current preoccupation before Ron did cotton on. "How long have I been out?" Harry asked suddenly. He knew it had been early morning when they'd landed on the beach, but with the amount of tree cover around, he wasn't able to tell the current time of day or night. "Most of the day," Ron said quietly without looking up from the fire. "It's nearing supper time as far as I can tell," Ron added, still not taking his eyes off the sausage. Though Ron had initiated the conversation when Harry had awoken, there was something wrong with the way he was acting. He wasn't being mean or cold, but his tone wasn't the usually jovial, friendly banter he used. He hadn't, once in the few minutes Harry'd been awake, taken the Mickey out of him or teased Harry. Which was pretty unusual for Ron. He wasn't making eye contact or doing anything but answer Harry's questions. Something wasn't quite right with Harry's best friend. "Did you sleep any?" Harry questioned, wondering if Ron was somehow mad that he and Hermione had slept the day away, while Ron had perhaps stayed up watching out for any trouble. Usually lack of sleep and food were cause for Ron's irritation. "A few hours here and there," Ron admitted softly, taking the poker out of the fire and examining the sausage carefully to see if it was done. Dissatisfied, he put it back in the fire and continued as before. "Ron…did something hap--?" Harry began to ask, at almost a total loss to explain his friend's mood, but Ron cut him off by reaching towards his side and tossing a bundle of something towards Harry, where it landed on the grass in front of him. "What're those?" Ron asked firmly, meeting Harry's eyes and glaring hard at him. Harry gulped. He knew exactly what the bundle was and he knew exactly what it contained. "Where'd you get those?" Harry asked, his voice shaking slightly with guilt and nervousness. "Hermione didn't search your pack right away. So I went through it to see if you didn't have something we could use or if anything of yours had been ruined," Ron replied, sounding as though going through Harry's belongings without permission was not a pressing discussion point. "What are they?" Ron asked again fiercely, raising his eyebrows and staring at Harry, his blue eyes boring seriously into Harry's. "Letters," Harry replied quietly, trying to sound as though that was all they were. "I gathered that much," Ron replied without a trace of humor or amusement. "Why are they addressed to us?" he pressed, his voice low and slow, but accusing. When Harry merely swallowed, his Adam's Apple bobbing with the action, but didn't answer. Ron continued. "There's one to me, to Hermione...to my mum and dad...to Remus and to the Order," Ron listed off. "To Ginny," he added, shaking his head slightly as he said her name. "You didn't read them did you?" Harry found himself suddenly asking, looking down to find the group of letters still tied together, though slightly damp. It didn't look as though they'd been opened, but the seawater may have allowed Ron to look without disturbing the seal too much. "No," Ron answered flatly. "But it doesn't take a flipping genius to figure out what they are," Ron tossed out, sounding very agitated. "Usually someone doesn't write letters to people he's traveling with or is going to see very soon," Ron explained further. "But I think it was the one addressed to the Head Goblin at Gringotts that was the dead giveaway to what you're trying to pull mate," Ron finished, sounding rather hurt and very emotional. "Ron..." Harry began quietly, not knowing how he would explain things to Ron in any easy terms. He hadn't meant for anyone know about these. Well...at least not while he was alive. He'd meant to leave them with somebody later on or put them somewhere where his friends might find them if things went wrong and he didn't survive. But he hadn't planned on Ron discovering them and figuring out that he'd written letters of goodbye where he poured out his feelings and his true thoughts to each of the people who were important to him. And he really hadn't planned for Ron to react in such a strong way. "When did you write them?" Ron questioned, trying to put together a possible timeline or figure out when Harry'd had time alone to do this. "Those few days after we came back from Godric's Hollow," Harry answered truthfully. "When I locked myself up in the library." Ron shook his head in disbelief. At the time Harry'd told the others that he'd been working on his second Animagus form and had taken care of a few things. Now Ron knew what he'd taken care of. "Ron...we both know that it's possible that this isn't going to end well...that I might not make it," Harry tried to explain gently. "No--we--don't know that," Ron replied intensely. "You're the only one who seems convinced that you're a goner. I've still got hope...we all still believe that you're going to win and then we can all get on with things and finally live...free of all this. You're the only one who likes to entertain the idea that you're not going to be there for it." Harry swallowed hard, getting slightly choked up at the passion and emotion Ron was voicing. "I don't like it Ron," Harry admitted wholeheartedly. "Do you think it was easy for me to write those? Do you think it was easy knowing that if and when you all read them...that I'll be dead? Believe me...it's not fun putting in a letter how you want your money and possessions split up and where and how you'd like to be laid to rest..." "You shouldn't have had to do this," Ron said steadily, shaking his head as he looked at the bundle of letters, the top one addressed to him. "You shouldn't have had to write those," he added quietly. Suddenly it clicked that Ron wasn't mad at Harry for actually writing these goodbye letters. Ron was angry and upset over the fact that Harry had been put in the situation where he even had to think about it. It was more frustration and anger over the whole situation, more anger and frustration towards Voldemort and what he'd done to Harry. "I know..." Harry breathed out, feeling a well of appreciation and loyalty to Ron fill him up and threaten to break that teenage--macho male--barrier that they'd rarely crossed. "I just wanted to make sure everyone would be taken care of if something does happen. I wanted to make clear what my wishes were and...I wanted...I wanted everyone to know just how much they've meant to me...how I really feel about you all." "First off--I don't want your bloody money or even your Firebolt if that's what I've been given," Ron responded. "And second off--I don't need a letter to know how things are between us. I know if you feel the same way as I do...then we're brothers and I love you like one. I don't think anyone who knows you well...doesn't know how you really feel. You may think you hide it well sometimes--but you wear it on your sleeve Harry," Ron said, how tone a bit lighter, but still filled with emotion. Harry sniffed, feeling the wetness and moisture there in his eyes. Ron had called him and considered him a brother before; he knew Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had considered him a son. But it wasn't just a title or a comparison to be called that. Ron had said that he "loved him like a brother". Ron didn't just throw out his feelings or mess with words when it came to something so serious and so--personal. He hadn't stuttered or stumble or even batted an eye when he had said the words to Harry--he'd meant them with his whole heart. Harry had always known that the bond he had with Ron was stronger than any of them had ever voiced. But hearing Ron say the words filled Harry with an indescribable feeling of love and compassion towards his friend. Ginny was the only person he could ever recall in his life that had ever said those words to him. But this wasn't the same as love between a man and a woman...this was a love created through brotherhood...one usually kept for those bonded by blood. Harry heard Ron sniff his own emotion back before he let out a shaky breath to steady himself and continue. "And...I don't think a letter would do anything for Ginny if you aren't...you aren't there when this is all over," Ron said brokenly, staring into the fire as if watching it would keep his tears at bay. "My sister's strong...but I don't even want to begin to think about what it would do to her." Harry clenched his eyes, failing to keep his unshed tears from falling. He too had been forced painfully to think about the after effects of his potential demise and what it would do to Ginny. But it seemed a little bit worse and unbearable hearing Ron concern over it. They had spent the past few months building and shaping a beautiful relationship and creating a love stronger than anything he'd ever known or thought possible. He'd begun to dream of a life with her, of a future that revolved around the beautiful, fiery red-head that he loved with his entire being and what they might accomplish or do together when this was all done. So it pained and wrenched him to think of a scenario where she'd have to go it alone. He always tried to tell himself, that if he met an unfavorable end, at least the pain and the struggle would be over for him. He would at last be free and at peace, unaware of what he may have left behind. But for Ginny, she would have to try and carry on without him. She would have to go on living, move on and try and make the most of things. Part of him knew she would be able to keep in her heart the time that they'd shared and continue on...that while she would never forget him if he was gone...she maybe would find another who could make her happy and who would treat her like she so deserved. But another part of him didn't want her to have to move on and put those things to memory. He wanted her for eternity, to have and to hold her for years to come and to wake up every morning and tell her how amazing and incredible she really was. Sometimes he wished he could curse himself for falling in love with her now, at such an uncertain time. It seemed so unfair that these few blissful months might be all they had, all she might have to go on. To some, the fact that his life could be ending at 17 or 18, might have seemed the bigger concern, but to Harry, being the one left behind was a fate so much worse than death. To him, he was the one who would be getting off easy in the end. "Take care of her Ron," Harry blurted unevenly, swiping tears from his cheek with the back of his hand. "Her and Hermione both. If anything happens...promise...promise you'll make sure they're ok." Ron stared into the fire, away from Harry and rubbed at the corner of his eye, swallowing and sniffing as he did so. "I promise," Ron breathed out, nodding his head fiercely. "But you're going to have to promise me...that you're going to fight like hell to make sure I don't have to fulfill this one," he added, turning back to Harry and looking him in the eye again. Harry breathed out shakily and nodded. "I promise," he replied in return. Both Ron and Harry took a few moments to dry their eyes and compose themselves, both looking into the fire, which was still quietly popping and hissing in the home-made pit. "So I guess you'll want me to be keeping those letters safe for you?" Ron asked suddenly, still staring far-off. Harry looked back at him and nodded gratefully. "Yeah...if you could," Harry responded quietly. "And if you promise not to go and get yourself killed." "It's…er…sort of one of my top aims," Ron said a bit lighter, a smile reaching his eyes for the first time. Harry smirked appreciatively for Ron's humor. "I'll hold onto them for you mate," Ron began again. "And then after this war's over and you've sent the bloody tosser to hell where he belongs...we'll get rip-roaring drunk and use them to start the biggest fucking fire you've ever seen." "We'll do that," Harry responded, picturing the scene in his head and grinning broadly. "Good," Ron said definitively. "Because I'm not ever going to read what's in mine Harry. Not ever," he added firmly and ardently. "Thanks Ron," Harry thanked him for providing a steadying hand in times of uncertainty. "Why don't...why don't you try and get some more sleep," Ron said as he surveyed his now burnt sausage as he yawned widely. "When we're all rested...we can figure out what we're supposed to do next. It's almost nightfall anyways and we should at least wait till morning to go anywhere or explore the area." "Sounds good," Harry agreed. "How long's Hermione been asleep?" Harry added, looking over to the sleeping form of his other best friend. "Oh..." Ron blurted out, going a bit pink in the cheeks and averting his eyes for a reason. "She--er--she drifted off about an hour ago. We--er stayed up and--er--talked--for a while," he tried to explain, his ears now turning flame red. "Right," Harry said skeptically, slightly disturbed at the possibility that his friends had fooled around while he lay unconscious. But he supposed as long as he didn't have to witness anything...he could let things slide and go un-discussed. "Why don't you try and kip off a bit too Ron. You're probably exhausted as well," Harry added with a smirk as Ron discarded the burned sausage. Ron nodded in agreement, seemingly thankful that Harry hadn't teased him or ripped him any more than that. Harry rolled himself back up in his blanket, waiting for sleep to come again as he relaxed against the soft earth. He heard Ron get up and shuffle around the fire. A few moments later he heard Hermione mumble something that sounded like 'bloody sleeping' as Ron attempted to snuggle back within the folds of their shared blanket. Harry smiled to himself and closed his eyes, drifting off once more, putting off thinking of what they might face tomorrow. A/N: Here it is. Not too much action, but I'm proud of the later scenes. Next chapter we'll explore the forest and we might just stumble upon something. Hopefully I'll have the next one out before DH...if not I hope everyone enjoys it and has fun with our last Potter book. And for anyone who hasn't seen OOTP...it is fantastic! |
| Reviews 1174 |
Previous Next
|
