Title: Only Time

Disclaimer: I do not own, wish I did, but I don't. Anything recognizable including all characters, places, and images are under trademark through JKR and the companies that publish the books and make the movies. I only own my plot line.

Author: ShaeLynn Teelle

Warning: Possible Death Fic; mention of Abuse; disregards HBP and DH

This story will have multiple chapters. The story can be read as two halves, the first half of which will be posted and can be taken as a story alone. The second half will be posted within an unknown time frame.

If someone wants to archive, please ask first. You won't be turned down, but I would like to know where it's going. Thank you.

Polite constructive criticism is welcome; FLAMES WILL BE FED TO THE DRAGON IN MY BED.

Chapter 1

When Harry Potter returned to Hogwarts for his sixth year he was different. It was subtle changes, nothing that would stand out at first, but he was different. There was a solemness which surrounded him and his temper was more subdued than before. It was just as easy to anger him as it had always been, but he didn't yell or lose control of his magic, nor did he fling insults or comebacks at the ones that angered him.

His friends and many of the teachers simply believed that it was his reaction to what had happened in the Department of Mysteries at the end of fifth year. The Order members and those of the D.A. that had been there, thought he might have dealt with his grief and was trying to pick up where he left off with his life. He had been quieter all summer long, most of which he spent with the Weasleys.

Harry had only been at the Dursleys for a few weeks; weeks in which he did quietly grieve for Sirius. But a few weeks was all it took for Harry to learn something that forever would change his life. The day before the Order escorted him to Grimmauld Place his aunt left Vernon.

It would seem that for years Vernon had been sleeping around behind Petunia's back and had acquired a virus nearly three and a half years prior. Luckily for Petunia the two had not been intimate since before Dudley had gone to Smeltings. But the virus Vernon had admitted he had when he was overly drunk one night was what impacted Harry's life enough that it overshadowed Sirius' death. It overshadowed the Prophecy, and for a few days, it completely took Harry's mind off of Voldemort.

That led him to his sixth year. That led him to being in the library on his weekends, researching things that had nothing to do with Hogwart's curriculum. Hermione questioned him and questioned him about what he was doing, concerned when his marks never improved. Harry told her it was Voldemort related and Hermione stopped asking, though she did begin to research curses and spells that she thought might help Harry.

It wasn't until after the winter holidays were over that anyone learned what was really going on. Since the second month of school Harry had been getting paler and weaker, though he hid the weakness well from everyone. When it grew colder he had taken to wearing an extra jumper whenever he could, claiming that he was just colder that year.

He was the only Gryffindor to stay for the holidays and Harry spent it in the library or huddled in front of the Gryffindor fireplace, wrapped in blankets and making lists of things that needed to be taken care of. He attended the meals in the Great Hall, but found that he could barely keep what little he ate down. The first day of classes after the holidays revealed that Harry had been hiding more than anyone would have ever guessed.

It was afternoon. It was, of course, in advanced double potions with the Slytherins. Harry had managed to squeeze out an O on his OWLs and hadn't done very horribly that year. He was on his way to the front of the room where the ingredients had been displayed. He was at the end of the line, Hermione was behind him, and there was no one else near him to cause a problem. Then, he stumbled and collapsed.

When Severus first reached his side at Hermione's cry, he thought it was simply another bid for attention from the Boy-Who-Lived. Until he turned Harry onto his back to find that he had been using advanced glamorie spells, much more advanced than was taught at Hogwarts. The longer Harry laid on the floor unconscious, the more the glamories seemed to melt from his very skin.

His face was ashen, the cheeks gaunt, and the hollow of his eyes were sunken and bruised from exhaustion. Severus checked for a pulse in Harry's wrist, seeing that his fingernails were yellow and cracked. The pulse was there, but weaker than it should have been and would flutter every so often. The next thing Severus did was leave Hermione in charge of the class as he picked the severely underweight body up and took him to the infirmary

Poppy performed every diagnostic spell she knew of on Harry, including a rare one that gave her the answer she needed. Severus was sent for Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall as the medi-witch began performing strengthening and healing spells on Harry. By the time the three Professors had returned she had done every spell that could help Harry, only needing to wait for him to wake before giving him several potions. As they waited Poppy explained to the others what she had found.

"Mr. Potter is carrying an advanced attacking stage of Aldena's Heartache. He has the Muggle version of the virus. I'm not nearly as familiar with this strain in such a late stage, though both the Muggle version and Aldena's Heartache have the same reaction," Poppy explained in a grave voice.

"How advanced, Poppy?" Albus asked in genuine concern, though his eyes held disappointment as he looked at Harry.

"A month, maybe two, and it would have been too advanced for medi-magic to help him. As it is, we've caught it soon enough to stop the progression. It will be up to his innate magic how much he'll recover from this."

The three Professors stood watching the boy in silence for some time as Poppy brought over several potion bottles for when Harry awoke. One was stone-faced as he looked on the son of one man he hated. Another's eyes were disappointed as she scowled at the student. The third looked weary and defeated until Severus spoke.

"We need to know how he contracted the Muggle version of Aldena's Heartache. We will have to find out how many other students could be infected and how long he's had this virus."

"Albus, if he's had it long enough for it to have advanced so far, half the school could be infected. I know the teachers are tested every year, but the students aren't. We watch the students activities, Albus, but we aren't that strict anymore," McGonagall spoke quietly in horror at the repercussions of the virus running rampant in the school.

"Calm yourself, Minerva. Poppy said this was the Muggle strain. They have other means of infecting others around them than simply enjoying another's company. We will have to wait for Mr. Potter to awaken."

"What will his punishment be, Headmaster? It is customary for a student to be expelled when he has broken the rules in such—"

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus. Innocent until proven guilty. We yet have no proof that Mr. Potter has done anything wrong."

"Of course he has done something wrong. How else could he have gotten—"

"I didn't do anything," a weak voice spoke from the bed, pulling the Professors' attention there.

Poppy hurried over from the other side of the infirmary and began pouring the waiting potions down Harry's throat. A few minutes later she was finished and Harry lay back against the pillows weakly.

"Mr. Potter, do you know what is wrong with you?"

Harry was startled at the name the Headmaster used and finally really looked at the three of them. Seeing the disappointment in Albus' and McGonagall's eyes, Harry closed his, an unnoticed tear slipping out. He nodded briefly.

"How did you get this, Potter?" Severus demanded, his patience at an end.

Harry shook his head, unwilling to open his eyes.

"Is there a chance others have gotten this from you, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked, but her voice was as strict as Snape's.

"No, Professor. There should be no one else that has this. At least not from me."

"You will remain in the infirmary, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore spoke, his voice weary. "The other Professors and I will determine what should happen next. Until then you are allowed no visitors and you will speak with no one except Madam Pomfrey or myself. Rest for now."

With that the three Professors left the infirmary and Madam Pomfrey returned to her office, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. Thoughts that kept going 'round and 'round in his head and his hands clenched within the blankets covering him.

He couldn't tell them. He couldn't let them know what his uncle had done to him. He didn't want to see the pity in their eyes and the eyes of the rest of the Wizarding World as no such revelation could be kept secret if it concerned him. Harry closed his eyes, squeezing them in an attempt to keep the tears pricking his eyes at bay. He turned away from the infirmary door, the blanket pulled up high enough to shield his face from the light. It didn't take long for him to lose the battle against the tears and he buried his face within his pillow to hide any sounds.

Harry didn't remember falling asleep when he woke hours later, but it was dark inside the infirmary. The only light was from the waning moon as it shone in through the windows and the silence was deafening. He still lay curled upon his side and braced himself for the pain he had been feeling for weeks when he rolled onto his back. The pain was still there, but it was nowhere near what it had been. He stared at the ceiling in surprise and didn't hear the whispering footsteps as they approached his corner of the infirmary.

"Harry?"

His eyes followed the figure as it moved closer to the bed. "What are you doing here? If they see you—"

"I know. They're only watching the ones they know will come. The spell's not set to keep me out."

Harry nodded and relaxed slightly into the pillows. The other form sat on the edge of his bed, not saying anything in the comfortable silence for long moments.

"What happened, Harry?"

"I've been sick with something and I never told anyone about it. The Professors are discussing what will happen. I don't think I'm going to be here for much longer."

"But the Dark Lord," the figure began, his voice aghast. "He's still out there. He'll find you. It won't even be a challenge. Where will they send you?"

"I don't know. Perhaps back to my relatives."

"The Muggles? What kind of protection can they offer you?" the other scoffed.

Harry's voice was weary when he answered and again he felt the tears trying to escape. "None. There's no protection there now. I'm going to be on my own if I go back."

"You know how to reach me if you need to talk, Harry. I hope you get better, soon. I don't want to lose anymore friends."

"Are we friends?"

"Yes. Since the day you saved us."

It wasn't until the next evening, shortly before sundown, that the Headmaster returned to the infirmary. There was no twinkle in his eyes and his expression was slightly grim. Madam Pomfrey had been over to check on him once, but beyond her there had been no visitors since the previous night. Dumbledore stood at the end of the bed, watching Harry for a moment before he spoke.

"Mr. Potter, the staff and I have reached a majority decision on your future at Hogwarts. However, I can give you one final chance to tell us what we need to know. How did you obtain Aldena's Heartache?"

Harry looked down at his clasped hands and shook his head. He heard the Headmaster's resigned and disappointed sigh, but he refused to look up or answer the question.

"Then, we have no choice, Mr. Potter. For the safety of all those in this school, you will return to your relations—" Harry's head snapped up, a protest on his lips even though he had been expecting the announcement. "—and your wand will remain within my custody until you have reached your seventeenth birthday. Then, you will receive it back as you will no longer be underage."

"What about Voldemort, sir?" Harry asked quietly, dreading the answer.

"For now we can only wait and hope for the best. The Order will be in contact with you later on. It will not be announced what has happened and there will be no watchers to draw attention to where you will be. I will have your trunk brought down in the morning with all your possessions disincluding your wand. I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. Get some sleep. You will be leaving before six a.m."

With that the Headmaster left the infirmary. That night Harry again cried himself to sleep. But this time there was no comfort offered by a hidden friend or any soul.

The next morning Madam Pomfrey woke Harry at five a.m. She performed one last check on him and gave him a final potion before she explained his state of health. She was able to stop the virus from progressing further and it would be up to him how quickly and how much he recovered.

"Rest, eat healthy foods, exercise lightly, and you should begin to improve. Let your relatives know about the situation. I'm sure they'll be willing to help you regain your health."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Harry answered quietly, nearly a whisper, unable to meet the medi-witch's eyes.

"One more thing, Mr. Potter. Because of how advanced your case was, if you should come into contact with the same source as last time and contract Aldena's Heartache again, it will take up where the last case ended. Depending on how much you've healed prior to that will lengthen how long you will have before nothing can be done for you. The point you are at now, you would barely have a month before I would no longer be able to help you. I urge you to cease whatever activity you were doing that allowed you to contract Aldena's Heartache."

Harry could only nod. He didn't trust his voice and if anyone had thought to look into his eyes at that moment they would have only seen despair.

Professor Dumbledore escorted Harry to Privet Drive himself. Harry was pulling his trunk behind him and, though a light-weight charm had been cast on it, it was taking all of Harry's effort to not let it go. They stopped on the sidewalk in front of number four and Dumbledore turned to Harry, disappointment and resignation in his eyes.

"I am truly sorry about this, Mr. Potter, but for the good of the school, I have no choice. The Order will try to contact you once a month. Do not send out Hedwig, it would be extremely dangerous for her."

Then, without waiting for a reply, the Headmaster turned and walked away.

Harry was left in front of a house that he had hoped he would never have to see again. He thought about continuing past the house. He could leave and no one would be the wiser until the Order sent an owl and received no reply. Then, he remembered that he had no wand. He would be just as defenseless away from Privet Drive as if he stayed, but at least if he stayed here, someone would find him when he was attacked. Out there, no one would find his body when he died.

He now wished that he had forsaken the little pride he had and just told them what had happened, just told them what his uncle had been doing to him, but it was too late. Dumbledore was gone already and he would not have the chance to send out Hedwig before he was noticed. Harry did not even know if his pleas would be considered any longer now that he had wasted every chance they gave him.

With a heavy heart and even heavier footsteps, he walked up to the front door and rang the bell, praying no one was home. There was no one else around to see the tears that were shed as he waited and heard the heavy footfalls from inside the walls. And there was no one to see the lust in an ill Vernon's gaze as he opened the door to see his nephew with trunk in tow.

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