DISCLAIMER: Not JK Rowling. Just a huge fan! :)

Author's Chapter Notes:

Hello, all!

Um, so I've been on a long hiatus, and still am, kind-of, but I couldn't ignore the cotillion, could I? :D So yes, this fic is being written for the Great Hall Cotillion over at MNFF, and my chosen pairing is Albus Potter/OC (female).

Anyway, brand-new story! :)

Thanks to my lovely beta and gorgeous friend, Soraya/babewithbrains for being a total ninja, and also being perfect with her inputs and suggestions. :)

Also, thank you to Nadia/majestic_ginny for her help with the title. I have such a hard time thinking up titles these days. D:

Dear readers, this fic deals with some heavy themes. Suicide doesn't refer to actual suicide - it's suicidal thoughts, but I thought the warning counted anyway. Also, there are themes like depression involved here, so please tread carefully.

2027

There are lights flashing in his eyes. His eyelids are shut tight, and he's groggy and nauseous as various wandlights cast themselves at his face. Pain shoots up his head, and he squirms in displeasure.

How did he fall like that? someone wonders frantically. It must be bad, the way he fell, if they're so worried for him.

Another terrified voice yells from somewhere in the background, shouting panicked orders. Oh, Merlin. Everybody! Stop whatever you're doing. Abort the operation and call Harry! Call him now!

Hands are gripping at his face, trying to assess him. Voices plead for him to open his eyes, but he can't. His body won't cooperate. And everything, everything hurts - except for his legs.

He can't feel his legs.

He regains his consciousness in a familiar white, sterile environment. He's been here many times, he remembers, because this is a hospital, and this is where his work leads him a lot. People around him are talking in hushed voices. A softly lit lamp casts a halo of dim, orange light around the room. He can hear raindrops pattering against sloping aluminium outside the grilles on the window.

Al? Al!

His eyes finally open completely, only to notice his mother's face, looming uncertainly over his. Her hair is greying at the sides - below her temples, he should tell her that, but just now, he can only see her brown eyes filling up slowly with tears. He feels his heart sink. He hates seeing her cry. He hates it more than he hates the smell of the hospital, which he hates a lot. Nothing good ever happens in a hospital.

She puts a hand on his cheek, smiling and crying at the same time. Her lips quiver as she plants a kiss on his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Been better," he rasps.

She breaks down at that, tears and snot all making an appearance at once, streaming down her face, and he looks away because he can't take it anymore. Her hand starts to stroke his hair, fingers getting tangled in them, smoothing them out slowly. And then he realises something.

He still can't feel his legs.

"There's a potion we're administering, and that can be continued after he is discharged. It should help."

The Healer doesn't sound very confident. Albus doesn't open his eyes or pretend he can hear, because he needs the truth right now - not sympathy. So he stays in the same position, unmoving, and listening carefully. It's hard, because the hospital gown itches and he needs to scratch fucking badly.

"How much will it help?" Harry asks in a low voice.

The Healer pauses a moment, before replying. "Studies show that it can cure paralysis almost completely with very few deficits."

"Almost."

"I'm afraid so. There will still be weakness." Albus can hear robes rustle as the Healer shifts about. "I don't think he can ever completely revert to what he was. I'm sorry."

"He's just twenty-one, Ernie."

Ernie sighs. "I'm sorry, Harry, I really am. But this potion - it will help. It has its side effects but in a few short years-"

"Years?"

"Two years, at least. It's a difficult injury to heal. I'm sorry."

Ernie is very sorry. Albus gets it. But he kind of wishes that Ernie could also give them some good news. Albus drifts off after that, hoping to anyone who's listening, that this is all just a nightmare. None of it seems real anyway. He, Albus Potter, hasn't just been declared a paraplegic and disabled in every way that matters. He will not accept it.

The potions make him loopy.

There are several of them - most to fight away infection, some for pain, and one particularly awful drug that absolutely scrambles his brain and rubbishes all his thoughts by making him feel fuzzy. He can't see, hear or speak properly when he's taken the potion. Unfortunately, that one is the most important. It's the one with the promise to revert his spinal cord to normal and cure him of paralysis within the next few years.

He hates it. He doesn't feel like himself when he takes it. But then he wonders if he'll ever be the same person again.

Liane sits with him most of the times - they've been married two years now, and she had just given birth to their son, Colin, two weeks before the accident. When Liane isn't around, Albus's family is always there. He's never left alone. It's almost as if they know.

They get a wheelchair made, which can read his mind and take him wherever he wants. He can also Apparate with it. How nice, everyone says, appreciating wizard advancements and shite like that, but they don't know what it's like to actually need one of those. Albus bets none of them would be so amazed or happy if they were in his place.

"You're getting discharged tomorrow," says Harry, as he sits on a stool beside Albus's bed, three months after the accident. "Ginny's asking if you and Liane want her over for a few days," he pauses. "I'm a little busy with another case but you know I'll come right over whenever you need me. It's nothing the other Aurors can't handle."

Harry's face looks odd. But then again, that might be because of the fact that Albus has just taken his potion. They say that the potion will improve things but everyone's still waiting for it start working. Albus squints up at his father and watches the green of Harry's eyes bleed out and paint the rest of his face, so that he starts looking like one of those evil witches from Muggle cartoons. It looks disgusting.

"Al, are you listening?" Harry asks him as his lips expand, and green mixes with pale pink. Albus thinks he was talking about some kind of discharge. Ew. Suddenly, everything moves, as though Albus is in a ship during a violent storm.

Albus swallows, rolls over to the side of the bed, and vomits on his father's shoes.

Being home is bollocks. Liane is on indefinite leave from her job and she pretends she doesn't mind it, ("No, really, Al, it's okay!") but Albus knows that she does. He helps how he can, by changing the baby's nappies and feeding him for her - at least, he does his best, because he can't do much with his hands which tend to tremble uncontrollably each time he takes his potions.

On one occasion, he tries to feed Colin, the bottle of milk suddenly looks red, and he snatches it away from his baby's lips and throws it against the wall. Colin lets out a loud wail at that, and Liane hears the sound and comes rushing from the nursery. "What happened?" she asks, coming over to Albus and sweeping Colin into her arms.

"Bl-blood…" Albus stammers and he's shaking all over. "B-Bottle."

She eyes the bottle, and then she looks at Albus, the pink colour of her lips spilling onto her chin and leaking down her throat. "Oh, Al."

Albus shakes his head. "Think… t-that's bb-blood."

"It's not," she says calmly, going over and picking it up, and bringing it back to him. "See?"

Albus takes it from his hands, but the thick, red fluid inside is nauseating. He throws the bottle again. "Blood!" He's going insane. Liane is going insane. He knows it.

Liane picks up the bottle again and sighs. "Okay," she says. "I'll change it, all right?"

After that, Albus sees to it that Colin is drinking milk, and not blood.

Liane appreciates Albus every time he tries to help. He knows it's hard for her - with an infant and a disabled husband, but she does her best. Some days are bad, and Albus has panic attacks and suffers more than usual from the side-effects of his medicines. He yells at Liane, stuttering nonsense ("You're - you're a wh-whoooore!"). She puts up with it - she gives him the silent treatment for a while and she gets upset, but she puts up with it.

On the good days, Albus is able to tell her that he loves her, and they go for walks (rather, Liane walks while Albus wheels along) and have some good food. However, good day or bad, Liane tries to make sure that every day is as good as it can get.

Night time is the best because he's not loopy. He hugs her close under the covers at night, fingers brushing against bare skin, unable to fully give her what she wants. He feels terrible and can't understand what to do to make her happy, until one day, it hits him. He realises how slow his mind has become - how difficult it is for him to think, but he voices his idea to Liane that night. She smiles when she hears what he wants to do, and she tells him it's not necessary, but he slips underneath the covers, dragging himself down with his upper body, and he pulls down her pyjamas.

She gasps, fingers grasping on to the bedclothes, and he hears "Oh, Merlin," a fair few times by the time he's done, and she climaxes with a moan and a quiver. When he gets back up, her face doesn't look weird. She throws her arms around him, her small body pressing against his, and she whispers in his ear, "I love you."

He wonders if the world seems to be doing better, now that he's out of commission. He sees people walk by as he sits in the yard, and they smile and laugh, and he wonders if they've ever experienced sorrow. He goes to the city sometimes - Lily and Rose take him to Muggle London on their visits because he likes watching the hustle and bustle of the city. He sits with them and watches cars pass by, their colours bleeding into each other, but it looks pretty, and he doesn't mind. It is one of the few things about being on his meds that he doesn't mind.

There are a lot of things that Albus can't do when he's dosed up on his potions. His coordination is terrible, and he can't even hold his son most of the time. Sometimes, it's so bad that he can't remember Colin or Liane's names or who they are. On his worst days, he can't keep food down and gets nightmares when he tries to sleep. His immune system is blown to pieces. He sometimes confuses Uncle Ron with Uncle Percy. His eyes show him all sorts of false things, making it difficult for him to differentiate between reality and illusion.

Even without the medicines, when he's relatively normal, Albus is not okay. The spinal injury hasn't just limited his disabilities to not being able to walk. Things as simple as using the toilet are now great achievements for him. He gets pressure sores on his bottom that he can't feel, and they are a big deal. Once or twice, he even contracts urinary tract infections. He needs to use a spell to evacuate his bladder and bowel at regular intervals because he no longer has control over them. Sometimes, with all the haziness from the potions, he forgets the spell. Liane cleans up without complaint on most of those occasions. Sometimes, she gets angry, but she doesn't show it. It's not his fault.

He has learned to move himself from one place to another - like transfer himself from the wheelchair to the toilet seat and back, and the bed, the sofa… Essentially, he can do most things with the wheelchair for transport. His mood is bad at the best of times. He snaps at Liane a lot ("Did you do your daily spells, Al?" "Y-Yeah, I d-did, nnnot a b-b-baaaaby!"), and then he kisses her at night and apologises ("Soooorry, Lia, sh-shouldn't snap"). She understands and stays with him. For the first few months, she puts up with it all. Until she doesn't.

Albus thinks he can pinpoint the day when he became unbearable to her, but he doesn't trust his memories, so it might be fake. He's tried to tell her many times that he's sorry, that he can't help it sometimes, and he never means what he does in the daze, but she doesn't listen. And Albus isn't sure if that's made up by his mind too - that she's not listening. He just knows that ever since it happened, he's been lonelier.

It is a bright day, made extraordinarily bright to his eyes due to the potions. Albus had drawn the curtains shut in their room and shut his eyes, trying to soothe the heat on his lids with his hands. He looks up and watches Liane come in after checking on Colin and making breakfast, with a wide smile on her face, which is just made up, because she hasn't been that happy in ages.

Liane comes closer to him and sits on the bed. "What do you want to do today?"

"Nothing."

"Breakfast? You haven't had your potions yet, have you?" She probably thinks so because he didn't slur or stutter that one time. But he just got lucky.

"I h-hhaaave," Albus replies, and Liane's face falls, as she registers the slur. Suddenly, Albus hears a sound - it's an unwelcome sound, really, as it's a tinkle, of liquid spilling to the floor. Albus understands immediately what it means, and he watches as Liane's eyes swivel downwards to register the wetness on his trousers that he can't feel or control.

Albus looks down, and both of them wait for it to stop. Liane sighs. "You didn't use the spell yet, Al?" she asks, slightly reprimanding, but not really angry.

Albus feels redness creep up his cheeks. He's too out of it for most of these accidents, but today he is aware of everything. Liane pretends like it's not a big deal, as she vanishes the puddle under his wheelchair with a flick of her wand. "Come on," she says, "let's get you into new trousers."

He wheels himself to the loo and helps himself onto the lidded toilet as Liane appears with new clothes. There is silence while she pulls down his trousers. That's when Albus notices that she's brought an adult nappy with her.

"Don't… nnneed," he says, pointing weakly at the nappy, as Liane picks it up.

"You're having a bad day," she counters. "Just wear it." The colours start to mix around into her face as she speaks.

Albus blinks, waits for it to get better, and swallows. He bats away Liane's hand when it comes close to him, holding the nappy.

"Al," she says softly, "please don't do this."

"G-gooooo," he slurs. "Not a b-b-baby."

"No, but-"

"Go."

She doesn't listen to him, as she comes closer with the nappy. Albus gets angry. He's an adult. Why won't she let him be? "No!" he says, and he pushes her away so that she lands on her arse, the nappy falling out of her hand. She frowns, and he bends over and pushes her again, with more force than he thinks he has. "GO!"

He watches her jaw clench as she gets up, and her nostrils flare. "Fine," she says, "fine." And she leaves the bathroom, nappy still on the floor, while Albus watches her go. When he dresses himself and gets to the living room, he finds that Liane has already left for work.

After that, it just gets worse. Instead of putting up with Albus, Liane starts to fight back. The fights get bigger, and after some tears and screaming, Liane starts to escape for work each time he's in one of his bad moods. The distance between them increases and Albus gets lonelier and lonelier.

It all goes to hell when Albus almost kills Colin. Liane is in the kitchen and he's taken his meds. He wheels himself to his son's room, wanting a glimpse of his baby, and he stops next to the cot to see Colin sleeping serenely, curled around his stuffed Crup.

The Crup's red colour melts into Colin's skin, and Albus blinks, suddenly unsure what he came into the room for. He rubs at his eyes with the knuckles and watches Colin sleep on, before lowering the railing of the cot to watch him more clearly.

Albus's hands are trembling, and the wooden bars go down harshly, creating a big sound. The baby wakes up with a start and begins to cry. "No," Albus whispers. He knows that Liane had just fed Colin and put him to sleep, and she won't take it nicely if she knows that he's awake. She's very angry these days anyway.

Colin doesn't understand this, of course, and continues to cry. His face scrunches up, turning a deep shade of red (or is that from the Crup?) and his fists ball up, and before Albus can do anything, he's letting out full-fledged bawls and crying like he probably never has (or maybe he has cried like that before; Albus can't remember).

"Shhh," Albus says to him in a shaky voice. Colin doesn't stop. So Albus does the best he can to quieten the baby. He snatches the Crup from Colin's hands and lifts the baby, hugging him close, and pressing Colin's face into his shoulder. "Shhh," he repeats, unsure if this is the right way to do it, "shhhhh…"

There is a sound from the hallway. Colin doesn't stop crying. Instead, he's crying and coughing, the sounds muffled by Albus's shoulder. And Albus hears another sound of someone approaching the nursery.

"Al, is he -? What are you doing? NO!"

A pair of hands clutch at his wrists, but Albus refuses to let go of Colin. He's crying so hard. Colin needs to be cuddled.

"YOU'RE CRUSHING HIM! STOP!" The hands fight against Albus's hold, freeing Colin from his grip and pushing him back. The baby is very red now and is crying; Liane doesn't even give Albus a backward glance as she cradles him to her chest, holding him much more gently than Albus did. Her shoulders are shaking and she's letting out small, strange sounds. Albus thinks she's crying too.

Sure enough, when she turns around, there are tears streaming down her face. She pats Colin's back and he stops crying a little, but her eyes are narrowed at Albus. "Get out," she says, her voice barely over a whisper.

Albus squints at her. This is a nightmare - he's sure of it. Because it looks like Liane is-

"Get out!" she repeats, tears coming down in torrents as she sniffles and sobs and coughs, much like the baby in her arms. "GO!" she yells, "I don't want to see your face again!"

Albus licks his lips and leaves. He wheels himself to the bedroom and waits for the nightmare to end. It never does.

It takes him a while to realise that it was all real. And when he does, he decides that he's contributed to enough sorrows in this planet. He loves Liane, and Colin, and his family, but he needs to leave. Forever.

Liane slaps him when she sees him with a knife poised in his shaking hands, ready to slash his throat. She slaps him again and knocks the knife out of his hand. And she cries. Again. Her face is red this time, though Albus thinks it may have come from cuddling Colin.

Red Liane is angry and hurt and scared all at once. She slaps Albus many times and he smiles each time, thinking of how much Red Liane cares about him. She's so much better than Normal-Complexioned Liane. Maybe red is his lucky colour. He likes red cars anyway. And Red Liane is cute.

The next thing he knows, he's at the hospital, sitting before a Healer and a Normal-Complexioned Liane.

The Healer diagnoses Albus with severe depression. It fits. Maybe. But the diagnosis brings back Red Liane, so Albus is okay with it. He looks around at the office and hears the birds chirp as the Healer discusses treatment plans with Liane. And then, in the end, it is decided that Albus and his wife must move to another place and start a new life. Maybe it will give them a perspective on things. And maybe Albus won't try to kill himself, or Colin again. Maybe.

They find a nice place in a Muggle settlement in… a place whose name Albus keeps forgetting. It's a small, English town with an even smaller population. Everyone calls it 'A Change of Environment' and 'A Fresh Start'. Albus wonders why the town has such strange names, but he doesn't ask. He just remembers this much.

The house is big and a bit ancient, but Albus likes it. The walls are plain white, so that there are no colours to blend with each other and he's a little disappointed in that, but at least he won't puke all the time now because of the colours. There are many rooms, and Albus gets his own room (though he wishes he could share with Liane) and his room is a level below the nursery, so that there's no way he can get to Colin unless he can walk. Which he can't.

After setting up the house with everyone's help and settling in, Liane finds a job at the local hospital as a volunteer of some sort. She says she'll switch to teaching soon, but she doesn't share all her plans with Albus anymore, so he's not sure. He feels like pointing out to Liane he's still her husband, but each time he takes his medicines, it seems like a really bad idea, so he doesn't tell her anything. There is an arrangement with St Mungo's Hospital for Albus's regular visits, and he is given a monthly date when he has to Apparate to the hospital for his routines. Liane seems to relax.

Two days after Liane starts work, she realises that whatever she does, she can't leave Albus and the baby alone at home. There's no one to change the baby's nappies (except for Albus, whom she doesn't want within fifty kilometres of the child) and then there's no one to change Albus's adult nappies when he needs those. When Albus isn't drugged, he wonders why she won't divorce him because it must be fucking terrible to live with him, and he knows it. But Liane comes up with a better idea - she hires a caregiver-cum-nanny to take care of Albus and the baby when she's away. She Floos an agency in London because she doesn't want a Muggle nurse at home when Albus is out of his mind most of the time, and she interviews some people whom Albus doesn't see, because he's asleep at that time.

On the day that the caregiver is due to start her work, Liane is happy. She even smiles at Albus before leaving and lets in the caregiver, narrating a set of instructions as she exits the house. Albus is eating his breakfast when this happens, and a few minutes later, he hears someone enter the room.

When he looks up, he can see bright blue - shining out of her eyes and spreading to her small, round face. Her hair is brown and curly, reaching her waist, and she's dressed in a checked shirt and jeans. She smiles at him.

"Hello!"

That's how Albus remembers meeting Rachel.

Chapter End Notes:

Thank you for reading! Reviews would make me very happy indeed, so if you do have time, I'd love some of those. :)

Guest review response:

Guest: Haha, no, not the happiest of my stories. Really glad you like it, though. Thank you! :)