You & I
Everyone is terminal. Chapter One
Harry had never been fond of funerals. He did not believe they did anything to honor the deceased, but instead prolonged the sadness and allowed death to linger around the attendants just a little longer. In a way, he found comfort that a funeral for Sirius was not held; believing that burying an empty casket was not going to ease anyone's pain. His fifth year continued as if that night never happened, at least on the end where Sirius was concerned. Due to his godfather's legal status, his death was announced in the papers as a mass-murdering Azkaban escapee and not the extraordinary, cunning man that Harry knew. To the world, they were less one criminal, so no one outside the Order bombarded him with condolences and faces of pity, so instead he went on being the great Harry Potter. Harry was in part thankful for the lack of attention, but also saddened the world saw Sirius that way. Mostly, the 'Boy-Who-Lived' was just the Boy-Who's-Exhausted. In all his years, he had never been so ecstatic to darken the doorstep of number 4 Privet Drive for a normal, non-magical summer holiday.
For the better part of the summer, that was what Harry got. His uncle's attitude toward him changed as he began to fear his magic, so now Harry almost did as he pleased in the Privet Drive home with only a few snide remarks from Dudley. On one evening in July, the temperature had risen to an alarming rate and Harry opened his bedroom window to let in air. A storm had begun to brew outside, loud thunder breaking the silence in the quiet home. Harry looked out the window when a louder crack of lightening lit up the sky. A young girl was running down the road, frantic and what looked to be barefoot. Call him a Gryffindor, call him an idiot, Hermione calls it his need to save everyone made Harry slip on his trainers and run out into the rain.
"Miss?" He called, holding a hand up to stop the rain from clouding his glass further. He approached the girl with caution; aware this could be a trap. "Are you alright?" The woman in question hadn't seemed to notice him. She was barefoot like Harry thought, and only wearing a white cotton dress that was now completely soaked and stuck against her. She was slender, her skin even lighter than a Malfoy's and hair light enough that it made a Malfoy's look golden. What Harry noticed first though was the sharp constant of crimson on her white dress. Her long arms where wrapped around her, also stained red. "Can you hear me? Are you hurt?"
She turned to him, her long wet hair making a whipping sound as it smacked against her back and face. Two large blue eyes widened even further and a strangled gasp escaped her pale lips. She slowly approached him, and Harry felt a calmness overtake him, helping him ignore the feeling to back away. "Are you Harry Potter?"
He swallowed tightly, feeling frozen to the spot. "Who's asking?"
She took staggering steps toward him. "Please, you must take me to Harry Potter." Her voice was hoarse, as if speaking was draining any energy she had. The rain poured harder, the darker sky lighting up once more with another strike of lightening. "Please!" She begged her voice shrill, frantic. She grabbed both his forearms, as if they were holding her up. "Only he can save me."
Then she fainted at his feet.
Harry Potter was never good at thinking things through. He clearly wasn't thinking when he picked up the girl and took her into the house, he wasn't thinking when he took her to his room and laid her on his bed. Harry didn't think about what he was going to do now that she was soaking wet and bleeding on his bed. Harry seemed to move on autopilot as he went down the hall to the washroom and collected towels and a basin of warm water to begin to clean her hands and arms.
With as much seriousness he could muster, he cleaned the scrapes on her arms and legs, and next removed her dress. She only wore a pair of white knickers, and Harry found a rather large gash on her abdomen. He knew the casualty was out of the question, seeing as she seemed to be of the magical world, and he wouldn't risk using magic as he barely escaped being in trouble after last summer's fiasco. Harry began to rummage through his trunk, remembering the essence of dittany the fake Mad-Eye gave him during the World Cup fourth year. He applied a few drops of the brown liquid and watched as the wound closed and began to smoke, thankful the girl was knocked out remembering it to be very painful, and it can cause a loud, vocal response. Once he applied a layer of plaster to keep out infection, he went over to his wardrobe and grabbed a clean shirt. A blush found the young wizard's face as his eyes glanced at her exposed breasts and he dressed her in the dry clothes. Harry cleaned the mess up and began to get the blood from her dress as best as possible. He hung the wet garment in his closet, relaxed in a chair by his window, and waited patiently for his houseguest to awaken.
The sound of his uncle's sedan woke Harry from his dreamless sleep. 7:45 Harry thought glancing at his watch, Must be leaving for work. He stood and stretched, stiff from sleeping in the chair. Last night's events played over in his head and he looked to his bed. The girl was still there, asleep, reminding him the events truly did happen. He walked over to the bed, looking at her. The unease of when she was in the rain left her face and even a little color returned to her ivory skin. Now actually looking at her, Harry realized she was possibly the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her now dry hair was in soft tousled waves, going all the way to her elbows reminding him much of Luna Lovegood's. Unlike Luna's blonde it was ice blonde, almost white, complimented by the soft light brown of her eyebrows. Her large eyes were thankfully closed as she slept, as Harry remembered how the light blue irises seemed to stare through him as she begged for help. Long dark eyelashes framed her eyes, and they made her eyes look even bigger when open. Everything else about the girl was tiny. Her face was heart shaped, and she had high cheekbones. Her neck was slender and led to prominent collarbones on her slim frame. Harry once again lifted her clothes; this time only just bellow her breast as he began to check her wound. He tried to not think about the softness of her skin the curve of her hips as he slowly pulled back the bandage. Her other wise perfect skin, was red and irritated, as the skin closed to form a scar. The scar would fade over the next few days, becoming less prominent and angry. He decided it was unnecessary to redress it and returned to his chair. Where did she come from? How did she find me? What the hell does she want with me?
Harry looked up from his book Quiddich Through the Ages to see a black owl perched on his open window. He had never seen an owl so large, as it behaved more like a hawk. It's large amber eyes followed Harry's movements as he carefully untied the items bound to its leg. First, a new copy of the Daily Prophet from Dumbledore, he had been sending them to Harry every now and then, second a purple leaflet, and lastly a tightly furled scroll. Harry tossed the paper aside to join the others on his messy desk and opened the leaflet to see it was from the Ministry. Harry rolled his eyes at the leaflets attempt to secure the public on Death Eater Public safety. Harry last read the scroll, and he almost felt his heart leap from his chest. Dumbledore was coming to take him to the Burrow on Friday- that's in three days. In realization he looked to his bed, What about her?
The young wizard quickly retrieved his parchment and quill from his trunk and scribbled a reply to see the Headmaster Friday. Once again approaching the black hawk-owl with caution, he tied his reply to its leg and the bird took off immediately, Hedwig trilling in approval that the beast was gone from her cage. Harry had three days, three days to learn the nature of his guest and how in the bloody hell he was meant to save her. The stranger would just have to wake up first.