You were ill. I didn't know how ill but you just were. You couldn't talk; even blinking seemed like a chore. A part of me wanted you to just give up, because I felt like death was an easier option for all of us. But that part of me was selfish, because I didn't know if death was easy for you?
Was it?
You fought long and hard, you never once let go of my hand for fear that I would leave. You needn't have worried, because I would never have left you. Ever.
I curse myself for not noticing the earlier signs. You complained of having a head ache, I put it to stress at work. When you didn't want to have sex I, again, put it to stress at work. When you never ate, I, once again, put it to stress at work.
I don't know why I didn't get you to quit work; we needn't have worried about money for both of us had inherited a vast amount. We could both quite easily live of what we had. Looking back I think I told myself that you would never quit because you loved your job too much.
But did you? I never asked.
When you finally went to the Healers, you didn't want me to come. I gave you no choice and came anyway; even when you threatened to never speak to me again in your childish manner.
I replied that you silent would be the best thing ever.
I wish I had never said that.
We sat together in the waiting room of St Mungo's, when the Healer came out and called your name you kissed me on the cheek and told me you wouldn't be long. I just pushed you on, telling you that everything would be fine.
You came out twenty minutes later, white as a sheet of paper. You were trembling so hard and you practically collapsed into my arms.
Mortem cerebri.
That's what they had said. More commonly known as Death of the Brain. Untreated it could kill a fully grown wizard in a matter of months. You had already been ill for four.
The Healers said there was a simple potion that could be taken, the potion would create a cloud over the actual virus and stop it from spreading. Then once it stopped spreading the Healers could focus on actually removing it.
The potion, as simple as it seemed for its three ingredients, actually took five months to make. The Healers contacted all potion makers and apothecaries for the potion, but because Mortem cerebri was so rare no one actually had the potion.
So the Healers started straight away, and all we could do was hope that you could manage to hold on for five more months.
The first month carried on like the past four already had, you went to work and came home and fell asleep in my arm.
In that month you informed your family and friends. They all rallied around supporting you, offering their services if either of us ever needed it.
In that month you also wrote a will. I told you not too, I said that writing a will would be like signing your own death sentence but you didn't listen. You said that because we couldn't ever be legally married a will would secure both our legal positions. You also said you wanted me safe, just in case.
I joked, telling you that you sounded far too smart and mature for your age. But deep down I was impressed by your maturity, and I was touched by how you wanted me safe… just in case.
The second month came, and you got slightly worse. You only went to work three days a week now, and those two extra days did you all the world of good as you spent it lying in bed with me. We never had full blown sex we use to, but there was touching and kissing and hugging and that honestly was good enough for me.
I remember one particular day, it had started snowing. Early December, December the third to be perfectly honest. I brought up to bed two mugs of hot chocolate and the two of us lay in bed just talking about nothing really important. But it was important, because it was one of those days that I remember the most.
When the hot chocolate was gone, you started kissing me. First you kissed the nearest part of my body you could reach which was my arm. Then you pulled me down and kissed me on my neck, before finally reaching my lips.
It was deep, soft and full. Your hands fumbled around clumsily as you tried to pull off my top, but you couldn't do it. So I straddled you and pulled the top of my self. I heard you gasp as you stared my chest, and you ran your fingers down me. A little finger ran over my nipple and I shuddered at how good it felt.
You saw what it did to me and you purposely flicked your thumb over it. I moaned as you pulled your legs up, allowing my groin to feel your hard on. I leant down, and you moaned just like I did as you felt my hard prick come into contact with your stomach.
I kissed you, my tongue running along your bottom lip, causing your mouth to open. You allowed my tongue to enter your mouth and you entered mine.
I pulled your shirt off you, purposely running my fingers over your nipples as punishment for doing such a thing for me.
Seeing you shudder at my very touch had never been so hot.
I pulled your bottoms off, revealing your beautiful prick. In one sudden move I took it whole, I licked and sucked, I ran my tongue past a certain vein I knew made you scream, I played with your balls as you squirmed underneath me. When you couldn't hold off any more you came loudly, your spunk flying straight into my mouth. I swallowed it all.
I knew you were too tired to reciprocate the gesture, so I lay next to, content with just being close. But you didn't let me go that easily, you crept a hand into my bottoms and grasped my prick. You soon had me gasping and moaning, I bit into your shoulder.
If it hurt you, then I'm sorry.
I came. I won't lie, it wasn't the best orgasm you had ever given me, I could name plenty of times where you had me crying it was that good. But I didn't care. At that particular moment in time I was the happiest I had ever been.
You kissed me gently on the forehead, mumbled that you loved me, and then fell asleep.
I cast a cleaning charm on myself and fell asleep next to you, and somehow during the night, as the snow fell, casting a blanket over the streets of London, I had curled up in your arms, you holding me tightly as if I was the one that needed protecting.
December passed, and the third month came. Early January, you were informed that the potion would be ready sooner than they had thought. Only by a week. It didn't seem like such a big thing to you, but knowing that this whole ordeal would be over even a week earlier was more than I could ever ask for.
Gradually as the third month went on you grew worse, you eventually stopped going to work all together. Half way through January your friends visited you even more, and one certain couple brought with them a new born baby girl.
She had her mother's eyes, and her father's complexion. She was beautiful. You held her, afraid that you would break something so small. I didn't have it in me to say that she would more likely break you.
As you cooed over the small bundle of joy, your best friend pulled me to one side and asked me how you were. I was honest.
You were getting worse. You were still with us, mentally, but physically you were breaking down.
Your friend asked me if I there was anything he could do, I said that all he could do was visit you as much as possible. Inside I added, while you still can.
When the fourth month came you went straight downhill. You lost the ability to move properly, and you were rendered to a wheel chair. I knew how ashamed you felt after each and every single time I had to wipe you. I knew that you hated that I had to dress you and wash you. I knew that you hated being hand fed. I still remember the first time I dropped a piece of fried egg down you, how red went when you couldn't even wipe away the yolk off your face properly.
You pretended that it didn't bother you, that it was easy to just kind of get over. But I heard you cry, when you thought I couldn't hear. When I left you in the garden to enjoy the February air you thought I was busy chopping carrots in the kitchen for tea. But I wasn't. I was sitting just outsight from the doorway, listening to you cry as you felt so wear and hopeless.
There was nothing I could do.
Towards the end of the fourth month you became confined to a bed, you spent most your days sleeping, waking only to use the toilet and eat.
There were a few times where you were able to speak. One worded sentences were commonly used. On your good days you could say entire paragraphs. You asked me how everyone was. Your friends visited you still, every single day. But you were always asleep.
You asked me silly things as well. Like who was winning in the Quidditch league. How my vegetable plot was coming along. What book was I reading while I watched over you?
The first week of the fifth month you stopped talking, you struggled to stay awake long enough to eat and use the toilet. So the Healers hooked you up with tubes and all sorts of equipment. Seeing you surrounded by all the equipment broke me.
I wanted you to die.
It was easier for us all if you just went in your sleep. Life could move on. The bed you lay in could be burnt. The equipment destroyed. The house we shared would be sold. I hated you for taking up so much space. For causing so much hassle. For just being you.
But you didn't die, and I would never kill you.
You obviously realised I was thinking such sick thoughts as one day in the second week you grasped my hand and held it, I knew that in your head you thought you was holding me tighter than was possible, but all I had to do was just pull my hand away.
You were weak.
You were only able to stay awake for five minutes a day, you didn't talk. Instead you just looked at me and I could see how even blinking made you tired. On the last day of the second week I kissed you on the lips.
You couldn't kiss back, but I didn't care. I knew you felt it, and knowing you felt and knowing that you would have liked it made me smile.
On the first day of the third week you started coughing, it was nothing bad at first. Just a chesty cough. I gave you a simple potion to make the cough go away, but it didn't work. In the early hours of the second day you started coughing up blood.
In the middle of the second day your friends came and visited you, this time they didn't leave. You didn't know they were there, you knew I was with you, as you never let go of my hand. Not even once.
On the third day a Healer came to the house and told us all that the potion needed only 48 hours. Then they would administer it you and then you would live. The next twelve hours passed silently, once or twice a friend would leave for a few hours and then come back. I never noticed it.
All I cared about was that there were only 36 hours left till the potion came, and that your breathing had become shorter and wheezier. There was a fine layer of sweat that ran over your body as you tried to fight of the virus.
Another twelve hours later and you started to shake. It was only slight at first. I thought you were cold so I covered you up and held you close. Then the shaking got worse and they became fits. Healers came and casted everyone out of the room, they tended to you while all I could do was walk back and forth on the landing as your friends all held each other close.
Three hours past and the Healers came out and said that you were stable; they only allowed me and your best friends to come and sit with you. The moment I sat next to you, you grasped my hand.
Tighter than ever before. Then I realised you were in pain, your entire body was trembling as pain coursed through each and every pore of your body.
You held my hand as if you were holding on to dear life.
Six hours passed. the trembling stopped, you became more still, but only slight. Your breathing was fast and shallow; your mouth was open slightly as if reaching for air.
Another hour passed. A Healer came and informed us that the potion was almost ready; he checked your vitals and left with a worrying looking etched into his face.
One more hour passed. you spoke, you muttered my name. You said it over and over and I placed my hand on your chest to assure you that I was there. It calmed you down and I swore for just one second you smiled. It was small. But it was there.
Another hour. Your breathing slowed down. You didn't even tremble. The equipment checking your heart fell very low, the once quick beeping was now a slow mournful sound.
Half an hour. You stopped holding my hand.
Twenty minutes. Your friends said goodbye.
Five minutes. I said goodbye.
Two minutes. You died.
Three minutes. The potion was ready.
I never asked you if death was easy? I know I'll find out one day. But till then I'm going to keep living.
I sometimes wonder what would have happened between us had you not died. We probably would have adopted. I'd like to think three children in total. But knowing you we would have ended up with seven. I think that would be just alright.
I hope that wherever you are, you are happy.
I love you Mr. Harry Potter. I love you a lot.