** This is a scene filler from Kurinoone's Reader's choice chapter 11 "To be a Father" when James is talking to Harry at the Three Broomsticks, right before the closing up the nursery scene. **
Title: When the Bough Breaks
By Analyn100
Draco didn't know what he had planned- nothing really, all he knew was that he had to know for certain. He entered the Three Broomsticks, running like a drunk. The pub's sole occupants - two men sitting at a booth at the back corner - didn't even notice. He was greeted by the strangest sight he had ever seen: two untidy jet black heads –one slightly peppered grey - the younger slumped over the table. James Potter's hand was resting on his son's back, rubbing in soothing circles and for once Harry wasn't brushing it off. He even leaned ever so slightly into the embrace – James' shoulders sagging in relief at the lack of rejection.
It was true.
Draco crept foreword slowly, as though approaching a sleeping dragon, not wishing to startle him. Catching Harry off guard had always caused him great pain. Perhaps he should just turn around…growing up with Harry had taught him to respect the boy's privacy and wishes above all else. He stood staring at the scene with an aching heart, only when Damien Potter rushed in did he snap back to reality.
Even Damien, brash and impetuous as any marauder, approached the table cautiously, talking to his dad in low tones. Draco stayed by the door. He was on rocky grounds with the Potters as it was. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt a private moment.
Damien sat down and waved him over. Perplexed by the invitation, Draco followed the unspoken command without hesitation. It was only as he drew nearer that he paused to take in the scene again, his mind trying to process what he was seeing, but it was impossible. Harry's shoulders were shaking and Draco could hear something that he had only heard once before as he was coming out of a coma: it was sobbing, gut-wrenching and heart-ripping. The awful truth sent him reeling.
Harry was crying.
"Hey, mate." No response, not even a head nod. There was no attempt to stifle the tears or the sobbing, no attempt to even acknowledge his visitor. "I came as soon as I heard." He sat down, ever so hesitantly as Damien moved over to make room for him: no smart-ass comment, no 'he's my brother lecture'. It was as if someone had tilted the world on its axis.
Harry slowly lifted his head – he didn't even have the energy to sit up properly, still half lying in his dad's embrace. Harry had never looked worse. Draco almost recoiled at the sight before him. Even when he had been tortured and beaten bloody, he had still been in control of himself. But tonight, his eyes –his black eyes - were puffy and swollen, he reeked of alcohol and the tear tracks were stark against the grime on his face and dark stubble.
"You just heard about the attack?" His voice cracked, his jaw dropping slightly and his eyes bulged in disbelief.
Draco shook his head, "No, I read about the attack the day of, just no one thought to tell me about the baby." The bitterness in his voice surprised even him. He had even been about to remind Harry that HE was the godfather, he should have been told first, but the protest died on his tongue. What did that matter anymore? There would be no little Jamie Potter, no godchild for him to spoil.
"A boy. My son," Harry whispered. " Jai-" The name died on his lips, his whole face crumbling as the sobs were wrenched out of him. He didn't even protest as James pulled him into his arms. Draco and Damien watched helplessly as Harry sobbed in his father's arms. Draco had never understood how parents would welcome the sound of a crying baby. It was high-pitched, annoying and relentless, but it was a sound he would have paid every galleon in the world to hear, if only it would take his friend's pain away.
He cautiously reached a hand out to Harry's shoulder, struggling to think of something to say. But he came up empty. He could deal with an irate and angry Harry, which was familiar territory. Even a drunk and hung over Harry wasn't that unfamiliar, but an emotional Harry was uncharted territory.
He kept his hand on Harry's shoulder, while Damien climbed over the table to hold his brother's hand. If Damien's twisted face and gasp of pain were any indication, it was bone crushing. Painful though it obviously was, Damien made no move to let go. They stayed that way, huddled in an awkward group, offering silent support in the only way they knew how, for they knew not how long.
James rocked Harry in his arms, murmuring words of comfort which had little effect. James turned his gaze to his youngest son. "Damien, why did you come here tonight? At this hour? Does Mum know you're here?"
Damien nodded. "She wanted me to check on you and Harry when you didn't come home."
James nodded, licking his lips as he sighed, tightening the grip on his eldest son. "Why don't the two of you go back to Harry's place? I'll meet you there. He's going to need help in the morning. I need to check on Lily…and sleep if I can manage it. Just give me a few more minutes with him."
The boys nodded and stood up to leave. "Come on, Potter, I'll take you through the wards."
Damien's eyebrows shot up to his fringe. "You can do that?"
Draco nodded, waiting until they had left the pub to explain. "Harry was worried about Ginny being alone while he was teaching. He put a protean charm on my ring and Ginny's necklace. Mine doubled as a port key so I wouldn't have wards in my way if Ginny needed help, for all the good it did. Apparently she never got the chance to call for help." Without another word, he took the young Potter's hand and disapperated with a loud pop
They had barely set foot in the living room when Draco made a beeline for the kitchen.
"There's none here." Damien's voice broke through his mental haze. "The booze. Mum confiscated most of the bottles. She left some for Harry, but apparently not enough. He's going to have a nasty hang over, honestly drinking for over 12 hours straight."
"I wasn't looking for the alcohol and…wait did you say 12 hours? How in the hell is he even conscious?"
"No? Then what – oh." Damien's face froze in a perfect O, his voice soft and trembling. Draco had already made a large pile of baby bottles and formula that the Potters had stock-piled.
"I don't think Harry's going to want to see these when he gets home. Help me out, will you, before your dad brings him here?"
"Sure, right." Damien started on the cabinets on the other side of the kitchen, glad of something to do.
"Honestly, Potter, there would be no point to me getting drunk right now. Harry needs us and there's no way you can handle your brother drunk, let alone the both of us. He's going to need our help, to each his own."
It took them several minutes, but when the boys finished their task they stood and surveyed the kitchen table as though passing reverently by a funeral shrine. The table was covered in baby bottles, formula, a baby bath, an unopened high chair, wipes, powder, diapers….the list went on.
"Damn, how much stuff does one baby need anyway?"
"Harry bought it all in bulk." Damien was smiling. "You should have seen him. We were in the store and he had the carts overflowing – yes, two of them: one for each of us. I asked him the same question. He said he only wanted to go shopping once. So his solution was to get a year supply and never go back. He even tried to buy Ginny's lady-care things, to save her the trouble."
"Harry went down the feminine aisle?" Draco's eyes got as wide as saucers.
"Yup." Damien was grinning ear to ear now. "Apparently he got an earful from Ginny for buying the wrong type."
"Type? How many different 'types' are there?"
"No idea, but Harry got dragged to the store twice in one day. He came back blushing scarlet and cursing all things estrogen, swearing he would never set foot down that aisle ever again."
It was undignified and disdainful, but Draco couldn't help it. It was too much. The thought of his best friend and dueling partner, scarlet-faced and stuttering at the display of lady-care products was enough to send him into hysterics. He collapsed in the chair, chuckling.
Damien just managed a small smile as he began boxing up the various baby supplies.
Draco sobered up quickly at the sight. "Why don't you just magic it all away? It'll be faster, your dad should be bringing Harry soon."
"Mum said not to. She's going to donate it to a shelter or something. Anyway, I don't know how to send it through the wards, so the boxes will have to do for now."
Together they cleared a space and stowed it away just in time to hear the front door open. They could smell the alcohol before they could see the source. By the time Damien had gotten to the sitting room with a bowl to double as a makeshift emesis basin, Draco was already helping James guide a tipsy Harry to the couch.
James took a pad of paper out of his pocket and gave it to Damien. "Make sure to read that carefully. It'll help you to help him. Trust me." James kept his eyes on Harry, sprawled drunken across the couch. "Maybe I should –"
"No, Dad. We've got him. You really do need to sleep. We'll stay up with him. We'll call you if we need you."
James nodded, okay. "When his eyes change back, make sure they're not yellow."
"Yellow? Why on earth would they be yellow? What kind of magic overload causes yellow eyes?"
"No, not magic. Jaundice. If he has yellow eyes it means he's had more alcohol than even he can handle. It's a sign that he needs a hospital. It's on the list."
While the Potters had a parting and teary embrace, Draco sat down in the chair next to the couch, back turned respectfully away and his eyes wandering around the room, at everything except his best –and only – friend.
With a parting promise to fire-call if help was needed, Damien clicked the door locked behind him and sauntered back to the chair opposite Draco.
"Come on, let's get him upstairs." Draco suggested, rising from his seat,
"No!" Damien grabbed his arms before they could touch Harry. "Dad said no. Dad said not to let him upstairs…it's too soon."
"He's not allowed upstairs, what is he a child? What's wrong with upstairs?"
"The guestroom," Damien gulped, hoping Draco would take the hint.
Draco nodded in understanding. The guestroom had been the old name for the room that was now the nursery…or perhaps it was the guestroom once again.
Draco nodded and instead took the quilted blanket from the foot of the couch and draped it over Harry's sleeping form, only to have it pulled away.
Damien held it up by way of explanation. The name "Jaime" was stitched across it in blue and pink letters, while the outer design consisted of pale yellow patterns, quittitch balls and broomsticks. It was a blanket that Mrs. Weasley had made specially for her grandchild. It was the last thing that Harry needed to wake up to. The youngest Potter – who was likely to remain so for quite some time – dropped the blanket in the now renamed guest room and came back down with a plain plaid blanket. He and Draco took opposite seats in the living room chairs, watching Harry sleep.
"Dad gave me a list of things not to do around Harry. Here." He passed it to Draco who read aloud with disdain.
"Do not allow him in his bedroom or the baby's room. Do not even call it the baby's room. Do not allow him to be out of easy reach. If he insists on being in another room for privacy, make sure the door is unlocked. Check on him in the bathroom if he's in there too long…" Draco stared at the list incredulously. "Where did your dad come up with these rules?"
"Experience. If anyone knows what Harry's going through right now, it's Dad."
That sobered Draco up at once. He nodded. How could he have forgotten that James Potter had once believed his son to be lost forever?
"Dad thinks Harry might try something drastic. Unlikely, but you never know, with the mood he's in?"
"Drastic? You mean," Draco dropped his voice down to a whisper so Damien had to strain to hear him. "You mean this is a suicide watch?" The thought was insane, only cowards took the route of suicide. Harry was many things, but a coward was not one of them.
"I don't think he'd do that – knowing how much it would hurt Ginny. I can't see him doing that, but just to be safe. I wish there was someway to snap him out of this mood." The young boy pouted, his eyes fixed on his brother's sleeping form; even in sleep he still looked tense. Even in sleep he still couldn't get any peace.
"Snap him out of it?" Draco fumed, grabbing the boy – Draco refused to think of him as a man despite his 22 years – and dragged him to the kitchen so as not to disturb his brother. "Potter, there is no 'snapping out of this'." Now that they were in the safety of the kitchen, Draco stopped censoring his voice. "It's not just some melodramatic mood. This is as real as it gets. There is nothing, absolutely nothing worse than the pain your brother is in right now. I was raised with him. I know him better than you do – yes, I do. He's had the idea of strength reinforced in him right from the start. No tears were allowed – no matter how hurt, or how sick, no sign of weakness was tolerated. None at all."
"I've never seen him this sad," Damien whispered. "Even when you were in the hospital from the Imposter's attack, Harry went after that guy. He stayed focused, on task. He had a goal in mind, he kept his mind occupied. But this…"
"Sad isn't the word, Damien, it's 'broken'. I once asked Ginny why the Imposter went after her, what he said to her. He told her 'because it would break him.' He was right. Harry's as broken as anyone can be. Harry's been trained and conditioned to hide pain. The fact that he can't do that right now, that this is the amount of pain we're able to see speaks volumes because what you see is only the tip of the iceberg. Its scares me that Harry didn't even seem to care that we were witnessing him when he's weak."
"He's not weak!" Damien shouted in his brother's defense.
"I know he's not and keep your voice down. Just hear me out, okay. I remember when we were kids, we were messing around and he fell out of the tree and broke his arm. He whimpered for a few minutes, cradled his arm, and then went to find Bella to fix it. Not one tear, not one complaint about the pain and he was only 6. That's how early it was conditioned into him."
"So what do you suggest? All I'm aiming for is to get him to smile again... and maybe forget about this for at least a few minutes." It wasn't often that Draco and Damien could be civil to each other. They tolerated each other's presence, but that in no way meant that that Damien had ever asked Draco about Harry's childhood. It was too painful a topic usually, but whatever pain came from his questions could be nothing compared to the pain Harry was in now.
Draco shrugged. "I don't know. I think expecting him to forget about it for any length of time is asking for the moon. At this point the most we can do is listen. We can talk with him, but think everything over before you say it. We don't need a black-eyed monster on our hands. By the way, who has his wand? I'm surprised he hasn't gone tearing off after the Orcs yet."
"He already did." Damien admitted quietly. "He took off after visiting Ginny. I was here when he came back. He was covered in blood. He had this gunk under his fingernails. I wouldn't be surprised if he tore them apart with his bare hands. I gave his wand to Dad while he was asleep. I don't know where Dad put it and I don't want to know."
Draco let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "Ginny's okay, right? " He could have smacked himself on the head. Who was he kidding? Of course she wasn't alright. She had just had a miscarriage in her last month of pregnancy. "I didn't mean like…"
"Yeah, she's going to be coming home in a few days," Damien answered, pretending not to notice the poor choice of words. "She's recovering as well as can be expected."
"So what happened? How did those things get past Harry? I didn't think that was possible."
Damien shook his head. "What have you heard?"
Draco shrugged. "Not much. Mother told me that Ginny was injured in an attack. It was Black who told me about, about the miscarriage."
"They had gotten in a fight at the Burrow," Damien started, suddenly fascinated by the loose threads on the tablecloth. He just silently thanked the gods that Draco was asking these questions before Harry woke up. "Well actually Harry and Charlie got in a fight and Ginny was too mad that they wouldn't quit it. I don't even know what the fight was about, not that it matters at any rate. She didn't want to say or do anything she'd regret…" He took a deep breath, knowing that plan had failed. That was the one decision she would regret for the rest of her life. "So Percy offered to take her to her appointment instead. They got off the Knight Bus at a market along one of its stops. Ginny had a pickle craving, so Percy went to buy some. Ginny was supposed to stay on the bus – but you know Ginny, almost as stubborn as Harry. She got off the bus. When the attack started, Percy ran back to the bus to protect her, but she wasn't on it. The Orcs attacked him before he could get to her. She got bitten. The Healers cleared out the infection and administered the antidote, but it was too late…for Jaime."
A rustling sound could be heard in the next room. Harry was waking up. They walked in as Harry was pulling himself up on the couch. "Jaime? Someone said Jaime?"
Damien cursed, looking down at his trainers to avoid the eyes that were fixed on him. Draco was cursing the boy's stupidity as he brushed past him– apparently Damien hadn't read the whole list. The list ended with 'Above all else, don't mention the name Jaime', circled and underlined. Sighing, he took a seat next to his friend, wondering how much damage control he'd have to do. "Harry, what do you remember?"
"Why am I on the couch? And why are you guys?..."
Harry glanced between his brother and best friend, his heart breaking all over again as the night came back to him. "Jaime…"
Draco could see the now bloodshot red – not yellow – eyes clouding over in pain. Draco nodded. He didn't have the heart to say it.
"It wasn't a dream?"
"I'm sorry, Harry."
Harry took large gulping breaths as though oxygen was suddenly in short supply. Harry got up to his feet and headed towards the bathroom. Draco was going to let him go when he saw him start to stumble. He reached out and grabbed him. "Steady there, just sit down. I'll go get you a hangover cure."
"Don't want one. I'm not hung over."
"Right you're probably still drunk…guess the hangover cure will have to wait."
"No! I'm not drunk!"
"How can you not be? Your brother says you drank half the day away." Draco grunted. Trying to keep a tipsy Harry on his feet was harder than it looked.
"I wish I was drunk. Drunk people don't feel anything. I feel a lot, none of it good."
Draco and Damien watched with heavy hearts as Harry stumbled towards the bathroom. They could hear the retching and the sobbing from behind the closed door, each looking to the other for advice. Now that it had come to it, Draco wasn't sure he could handle Harry like this. He'd only ever known Harry to be an angry drunk, even he was lost now.
Before Damien could make a suggestion, Draco knocked on the door. There was no answer, taking the lack of a protest as a good sign; Draco opened the door to see Harry retching into the toilet bowl. There was some sick in the sink as well but apparently his knees had been unable to support him for very long.
Draco knelt down next to his friend and put an arm around his shoulder. "Feel any better?" He had been about to ask, 'How are you feeling?' but managed to stop himself just in time. Harry had always hated that question.
Harry stilled for a moment, then nodded. "Not quite as…sick." The effect was ruined by him throwing up again. Draco nodded, following James Potter's actions, rubbing his back as he was sick time and again. "Just get it out." Get what out, he wasn't quite sure. The sick? That was obvious. The pain, the anger, the tears…how could anyone just 'get that out'? Between sobbing and vomiting, Harry didn't have any breath to spare. When finally he released the toilet, his sobbing had been reduced to painful dry heaves. He leaned into the only means of support he had: Draco.
Once upon a lifetime ago, Draco would have made jokes about a drunken Harry clinging to him, or complained that his expensive clothes were ruined, but not now. He awkwardly draped on arm around his friend and kicked the door with his feet. Damien opened it in a flash. Draco suspected he had been listening in.
"Get me a paper bag and another bowl."
Damien obeyed, no smart remarks. No pouting, no nothing. He was back just as fast. He placed the items at Harry's feet but kept the door open and sat down, silently daring Draco to make him leave. But he didn't.
"I'm sorry, Jaime! I'm so sorry!"
Harry made to bury his face in his hands again, but Damien pulled them away. "Why are you sorry?" Damien asked. He had to nip this guilt trip of Harry's in the bud, now!
"My fault! I should have been there, I could have…"
"No, you couldn't. No one saw it coming, Harry! No one!"
"Yes, it is! Those things were no match for me. I….I finished them. All of them! I could have protected…They wouldn't have dared to touch her."
Draco watched this exchange with growing alarm. Damien was getting Harry worked up. They needed him calm. They needed to get the alcohol out of him fast, raising his blood pressure would just circulate it that much faster. "Damien, drop it! Now's not the time to fight." He turned to Harry. "Breathe into the bag. It'll help with the dizziness."
Harry did as he was told, not even noticing that for once their roles were reversed. Never before had Draco dared to give him an order.
"Sorry I didn't get here sooner. It's just…well I went looking for Alex actually."
"You went to the Muggle joints?" Even through his pain haze, Draco detected a hint of disbelief. The idea of rich, aristocratic and prejudiced Malfoy running into a Muggle pub was one that Harry couldn't quite fathom.
"Bag, Harry, breathe into the bag." With the bag repositioned to Harry's face, he continued. "I had to know, I didn't want to believe…and that's usually where you go when you want to avoid company. And that's usually what you do when you're hurting. I certainly didn't think I'd find you with your dad. You two usually don't talk about the hard stuff."
Harry took a few deep breaths into the bag and paused before talking. "I normally don't talk with Dad because Dad can't understand how I still care for someone who took me away. I don't expect him to. But this...this Dad understands all too well. He's the only one who can."
Harry took a few more deep breaths with the bag, before turning his eyes on his brother, seeming to notice him for the first time. "Damy! Do me a favor?"
"Anything!" Damien was already halfway to his feet.
"Break the curse! This stupid family curse, you've got to break it! You're going to be the first one of us to see your first child's first steps. Got it!"
Damien stilled, swallowing a lump in his throat. He could hear the desperation in his brother's voice, steady for the first time all night. How could he promise the impossible? If sheer force of will could stop this then they wouldn't be here! He didn't even bother to mention that his parents HAD seen Harry's first steps.
"Promise me!" Harry reached out suddenly grabbing hold of Damien's robes. "Promise me! I can't take any more of this shit. You have to promise!"
"I promise. Whatever it takes, I promise." He watched as the words calmed his brother down like nothing else had. His green eyes were coming back into focus, releasing his grip on Damien's clothes. "Come on, Dad's list says you have to eat, something to do with alcohol overload. Up you go. That's it. Come on."
"I'm not hungry!" But the protest was only half-hearted as Harry staggered to his feet, one arm draped over his brother's shoulder.
"You know what? Where's that list of recipes your twin gave you? You know, the only Potter who actually knows how to cook? Maybe I'll have a crack at it, if you've got any decent food around here."
"He's not my twin, he's your age!"
Draco listened to this exchange with a small, sad smile. Damien could take it from here. He followed the brothers into the kitchen, emesis basin and bag in hand. He had a feeling they shouldn't be put away just yet. They had a long night ahead of them.
He envied the Potters. He never had before, and perhaps now was a really odd time to start, but Harry had a good family now. They had good hearts and took care of each other. He, unfortunately, could not say the same. He had always known that his dad was a strict disciplinarian, unnecessarily so at times, but he had never realized how much of a bastard his father was until now.
If James Potter had even been half as emotional as Harry was right now, it was a wonder Lucius hadn't let something slip that Harry was alive. They both worked at the Ministry at the time, Lucius must have seen James. He could have ended that pain any time he wanted, and yet… How could one father watch another one grieve and not give any help at all? It struck him as odd to think of Harry as a father, but that's what he was. Forget the whole 'Father-to- be' crap. A man was either a father, or not and Harry was. They say parenthood changes everything…and so it had. It had changed everything about Harry even though he had never heard his child cry, never seen those bright baby blues. Even if he had never taken a single breath of life, that little baby boy had changed his best friend forever.
