Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and never will. Stands for whole story.
A/N: I like Harry/Remus as a romantic pairing. That is the basis of this story. I also like hurting Harry. There might be quite a bit of that too. Odd mixture I know. Anyway, deal with it. For anyone who is okay with that, this is the story for you! Hehehe.
Rating may change in the future though probably not.
This will probably be the shortest chapter, cos this is pretty short.
CHAPTER 1
Harry was flying slowly on his Firebolt through the stormy sky. He was cold, and he had to struggle to keep his head up, or to keep his eyes open to see where he was going.
The rain was plastering his hair down over his face, and was making it almost impossible to see through his dripping glasses, as well as the fact it was nighttime and dark. The invisibility cloak he had worn for most of the journey was now sodden and had slipped down to his left shoulder and was threatening to fall off onto the boggy moors.
The cloak was not the only thing threatening to fall off, as Harry himself was trying hard to stay awake. On top of such difficulties, it was hard to ride a broom with only one arm to guide it. Harry had had neither the coherence nor the inclination to study his injuries, but the pain was a constant reminder of how plentiful and how grievous they were. It also made it somewhat hard to pinpoint where the pain was coming from, not that he had tried.
Harry blinked some blood from his eyes to try to clear his blurred and obstructed vision, but to no avail. Somewhere a voice in his head told him he was sinking, and he was finding it more and more difficult to keep control of his broom.
Harry's mind had barely told him he was no longer flying horizontally when there was a jolt and Harry toppled from his broom and into what must have been wet mud. His body cried out in protest but he slowly and painfully pushed himself to his feet, staggering for balance.
He tried in vain to see something of his surroundings, but quickly gave up and frustratedly tossed his glasses from his face and they sunk down into the mud. This didn't do much to improve Harry's vision, but although things were much more blurry he was able to see further ahead of him without the rain droplets to obscure his vision.
Harry knew he lacked the strength to carry his belongings, so he left them in the mud. Hopefully he would be lucky enough to find them later, as unlikely as that may be.
He limped forwards and painstakingly slowly he continued his journey; to where he didn't know. Somewhere in his mind had told him which directions to take, but now he was beginning to doubt it was the coherent part. He was probably completely and utterly lost.
As hope seemed to leave him completely, Harry once again fell forwards into the mud and stilled. His mind was rapidly shutting off, and his body didn't seem to want to let him take another breath. He knew he was dying, and really it didn't seem to bother him any more.
The small amount he could see around himself was rapidly fading to black, and then he saw a light. The light wasn't bright, but dim and inviting, and it seemed to hold some hope. But then he realised the light was fading too.
Suddenly Harry didn't care for dying any more; all that mattered was getting to that light. It really wasn't too far away, he told himself. Perhaps all of ten minutes in his battered condition.
He forced himself to take a ragged breath, and then another. He realised that walking would now be impossible and pulled himself up onto all three relatively working limbs (he couldn't seem to even feel the pain from his right arm, let alone get it to work), and crawled towards the light. The dizziness in his head was threatening to take over, but he wouldn't let it.
For an immeasurable amount of time, Harry only concentrated on willing himself to keep moving forwards, and keep breathing in and out.
It seemed like a lifetime later when Harry stopped sinking into the ground beneath him as he crawled, and instead he now felt solid tarmac beneath him. He looked up through dripping hair, blurred vision and the blood in his eyes and saw that light. It looked like it was coming from a window on a small house. He suddenly felt that this house was where he was meant to be; this was where he had been guiding himself.
He saw a door and crawled towards it, finally depositing himself on the doorstep, struggling for each breath into his lungs. He wondered what he should do now he was so close to where he felt he ought to be. He raised his hand to knock on the door. He knocked a couple of times with as much force as he could put behind his fist- not very much it seemed, he managed only to make a couple of feeble knocks. Harry realised that whoever was inside the house would likely not be able to hear them over the thundering sound of rain on the windows and roof.
Harry choked in a breath and managed to reach the door handle from his position on the doorstep but it wouldn't move. It seemed to be locked.
In a last ditch effort Harry gathered all the strength his body possessed and dragged himself up using the door handle for support. Leaning against the wall he reached towards the doorbell, seeing nothing but white as his vision swam, but before he could press it he heard hurried sounds coming from the other side of the door. Before he could wonder who it might be, the door was thrown open, exposing the figure of a blurred Remus Lupin, squinting out into the darkness and shucking on a raincoat.
After a moment of peering outside, Remus' eyes fell to where Harry was leaning on the wall, and their eyes met. Harry saw the older man's eyes register the sight before him with surprise and horror.
"Harry!" the man exclaimed in shock, moving towards Harry quickly.
Harry had no time to register the concern. He finally gave in to the blackness in his mind, and fell forwards into Remus arms, before he saw no more.
A/N: What is wrong with Harry? What will Remus do? Will sparks fly? Review! And you shall find out all in the next chapter. Please review if you want me to carry on, or to give an opinion whatever. :)