When the Bough Breaks
Chapter Two: Never Forget
By Analyn 100
It was nearly three in the afternoon, but Draco still sat at the table, picking at the cold scrambled eggs, wondering how Damien had managed to make breakfast worse than hospital food. The boy in question was currently laying his head in what remained on his brother's breakfast plate, and the kid actually had the gall to be snoring! Well some things it seemed never changed.
Perhaps it had been the food and not the hang over that had induced Harry's second round of vomiting. He momentarily wondered how they had been cruel enough to inflict that pain on poor Harry, when he heard it. It was the sound of heavy footfalls being dragged slowly, one in front of the other. It was Harry. He was up.
Draco snapped his fingers under Damien's nose, snapping the kid out of his slumber just before Harry made his grand entrance. Draco was immediately glad that he had switched the calendar to the next month – no need to see Ginny's due date circled - and also drawn the curtains to keep out the light in an attempt to lessen the hang over pain.
Harry dragged his feet into the kitchen and with half-open eyes, collapsed into one of the chairs, before groaning and putting his head in his hands. His eyes, thankfully, were dry: puffy, red, and swollen, but dry. Apparently the dam had dried up.
Harry dug the heel of his palm into the side of his head wincing. "Ow!" The alcohol was finally catching up to him. He took a long shuddering breath and looked up at his visitors. "Long night?" he asked, trying to break the silence.
Draco nodded. What else was there to say?
They sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes, until Harry broke it. "God, say something. Somebody, please!"
"Feeling any better?" Damien asked with a little more perkiness than was strictly needed.
Harry would have growled at him if he even had the energy. Draco had been quite proud of thinking to phrase the question that particular way. It was actually becoming even more annoying than 'How are you feeling?' which no one had dared to ask.
"Peachy!" Harry bit out viciously. "What do you want me to say? That I went out and ripped apart the monsters that ruined my life? Or maybe," Harry was loosing it, they could tell by the slurring of words and the fact that he was trying to place his cup where there was no end of the table. "Or maybe you want me to say that I drank myself into oblivion. Or maybe you want to hear that I cried until I thought I could cry no more, only to realize what a stupid idea that was. Tears are a bottomless pit, there's always more. Well, check, check and check! And I still feel like shit."
"So," Damien began slowly, "On a shittiness scale, how bad do you feel now as opposed to yesterday?"
"Shittiness scale?" Harry gaped at him for a second before laughing. It was mirthless, almost maniacal. "What do you mean by that exactly?"
"Oh you know, like a healer's pain scale. 1-10, one being no pain, 10 being the worst you've ever felt."
"Well let's see," Harry contemplated. "I'd say a 12 for this morning, or afternoon or whatever time it is."
"12?" Damien asked crestfallen. He had thought they'd been helping him, how could he still be a twelve? He'd been hoping for an eight or nine.
"Well what did you expect?" Harry snarled. "Yesterday would be a 20. Today I'm down to 12. That's not too bad, right?"
"20?" Draco and Damien shrieked.
"Well yeah, 10's supposed to be the shittiest I'd ever felt. Last night was far worse than anything else I'd ever experienced; now I'm close to the old scale."
"So what would you rank as a 10 then? Where does the old scale end?"
"When I tried to kill dad on that cliff. Well, not then. More that I felt like shit a few days later when I realized he hadn't done anything to deserve it."
"Sooo, that's a 10 and you're at a 12 now?"
"Yes." Harry was starting to wonder if his brother had gotten into his alcohol. "Any chance of getting any more booze?"
"NO!" Draco and Damien shouted in the same breath.
Drcao got up and headed to the pantry and pulled out several bottles, placing them in front of Harry. "This is what your mother brought by early this morning, thinking you'd somehow be awake before noon. We have ginger ale, sports drinks, water, peppermint tea and if you must insist on alcohol, then we have Butterbeer."
"Butterbeer? What the hell? That stuff's got like 1% alcohol. I need more than that!"
Draco shook his head. "Actually try more like .1% and no you don't. That's all you get. And you only get 2 bottles of it, on top of that. And actually, you lost a lot of fluid with your vomiting last night, so really that stuff's no good for you. You need fluids, and butterbeer will only add to your dehydration. So I'd really recommend water or sports drinks."
"Didn't I have enough of those this morning? I thought my bladder couldn't get any larger, thought it was going to explode." In an attempt to get the alcohol out of him after his drinking marathon, they had forced on him 5 servings of the most disgusting eggs he had ever tasted, not to mention the 10 drinks with not one ounce of alcohol between them. He vaguely wondered if that was anything like Ginny felt while pregnant, with the constant pressure on her bladder that she always complained about.
"For a normal drinking binge, that would have been enough. You had an epic drinking binge which means I'm just getting started. Are you going to use that ice-pack or not?"
"No! I like the pain, gives me something to…focus on, or I don't know. I just don't feel like being sober yet."
"So then no epic hang over cure that I have stashed in the pantry?"
Harry shook his head. "If I want it, I'll let you know."
"Fair enough."
Harry took a long shuddering sigh. His hands once again cradling his throbbing head, he vaguely wondered what they were going to do with the rest of the day. Appreciative as he was to have company, he really didn't want people looking at him like he was going to explode at any moment. Kind of how everyone had been looking at Ginny, asking her when she was going to pop.
I'm not going to break down. I'm not going to break down! Harry kept up the mantra, determined not to make a fool of himself again. Oh he knew his friend and brother wouldn't hold last night against him. That didn't mean it hadn't been embarrassing, not that he'd been able to stop. Come to that, why would he want to? He could tell people all day long that he was fine, and he knew not one of them would be stupid enough to believe him.
The door bell rang.
"That'll be your parents," Draco announced, heading to the door. "I told them you might be awake around this time."
Harry was about to tell Draco not to open the door, but couldn't bring himself to do it. They were worried about him, it was only natural. Perhaps they'd leave quickly upon realizing that he wasn't quite as unhinged as the day before.
Harry slowly followed Draco into the Living Room. He stopped cold at the sight of his parents. Looking at his dad was like looking in a mirror. Did his parents get any sleep last night at all?
"I thought I told you guys to get some sleep! Looks like I got more than you did!"
"We tried," his mother's voice croaked. "It was no use." His mother hurried towards him, but stopped two feet short, biting her lip as if contemplating her next move.
Oh hell, screw it. Harry just reached out his arms to Lily, who took her cue. Gathering him up in her arms, she held him and rocked him, like she had as a baby, the last time he had sought solace from her. Harry had come to tolerate her hugs over the years – standing stiff as a board as he allowed her to fuss over him. But today was the first day he'd initiated a hug – the first time in 24 years that he had sought out his mother's comfort.
"My baby. My sweet baby, I'm so sorry!" she whispered.
Oh gods no! Harry could feel the stinging behind his eyes, could feel the breath hitch in his chest all over again. He knew his mother was trying to comfort him, but why did she have to use those words? The same words he had spoken to Jaime just yesterday. Yesterday, when he had held his child for the first – and only – time.
Damien and Draco watched from the kitchen as Harry succumbed to his grief all over again. Apparently the dam had been replenished overnight. He didn't cry out for his son. He didn't apologize 100 times over. Lily was doing that for him, trying the best she could to take the pain away from him. They honestly weren't sure if she was helping him or making it worse.
James watched as his son's heart broke into 1000 pieces all over again. He could see the warning signs. The same ones he had seen last night. Harry's knees were buckling. He was taller than his mother, stronger than her. James put a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. "You need to sit down, son. Just sit down." So they did, kneeling on the floor, leaning up against the wall, never once letting go of each other. James sat down in front of both of them, rubbing Harry's back with his right hand, and holding one of Harry's with his left. Harry's free hand was still fisting his mother's robes. "That's it, son, just squeeze as hard as you can. I've got you. We've got you."
Damien and Draco sat on the couch, eyes on the floor. Not that they would have been able to see Harry with both parents surrounding him. They were glad they couldn't see, what they could hear was painful enough.
"How?" Harry's voice was broken and croaked, as he gently pushed his mother away, just enough to get some air. "How did you guys get over this? How is it even possible? And don't say it's because I came back. You were happy before I came back. You were happy. How? Just please, tell me how to end this. I can't take it!" He shrieked, kicking at some invisible foe. "I CAN'T TAKE IT! PLEASE HELP ME! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE. PLEASE!"
He wasn't just crying anymore, he was screaming. His back arching against the wall as the cries were practically ripped out of him, struggling to break free. He was writhing in his dad's arms, trying to get away from the pain that was ripping at his heart. The pain wasn't just emotional anymore, it was physical. It was real and it was killing him.
Damien and Draco both ran over in a matter of seconds, forcing him to lie down before he hurt his head.
"Help me! Please somebody help me!"
"Get back! Just stay on the couch. We've got him." James and Lily each sat on either side of Harry, allowing him to scream. Restraining him just enough to prevent injury.
"What can't you take any more? Talk to us, Harry! We can't help you if you don't. Come on, son, help us to help you. You can do it."
But all they got in response was whimpered pleas and screams.
"Harry, please!" James' voice was breaking at the sight of his son straining to hurt himself. If only he could get into his son's tortured mind, but without Harry's help, that would be impossible.
"HELP! Help me!"
"I want to, son. I want to so badly." James felt the tears trickle down his cheek. He and Lily had promised themselves they would not break down. They had no right. Their nightmare was over, they had their baby back. Harry would never have that. Those 15 years of torment would never end for him. In 16 years, Jaime would not be found in a raid or an orphanage. He hadn't been taken away. He had been killed. There would be no end like there had been for them.
"What can't you take any more, Harry?" Holding Harry's hand stiffly and tightly so hard it almost hurt, James reached over to cup his son's face in his spare hand. "HARRY! Harry look at me!"
Draco ran out of the room and to the bathroom where he promptly threw up, Damien close on his heels. "Oh gods!" Even though the boys locked themselves in the bathroom, they could still hear the screaming.
"And here I thought it couldn't get any worse!"
Draco had never heard anyone scream like that, ever, unless they were under the torture curse and even that never last this long. Harry hadn't even screamed like that under the torture curse himself. Even then he had been focused more on Damien's safety than his own pain.
How his parents were coping with this, without breaking down themselves was beyond comprehension.
"I don't know about you, Damien, but when my wife is pregnant, I'm assigning Harry to be her personal bodyguard."
"Ditto."
"You better keep that promise, kid. I don't think they can take this again. So what do we do now?"
"Huh. Why are you calling me Damien, anyway? What happened to Potter?"
"Too many Potter people here, it gets confusing. Besides, this is no time for formalities. So, what's it going to be? Should we stay in here, go out there, leave?"
"Leave? We can't leave Harry like this!" Damien sounded scandalized.
"Look I don't know what we could do for him that your parents couldn't. And I just can't sit back and watch this. I can't be like my father! I can't sit back and just watch stuff like this. It makes me sick, literally!" He hooked his thumb over his shoulder at the sink splattered with the sick as though to put the evidence on display.
Damien leaned against the door frame, trying to collect his thoughts, when Harry's scream reached their ears again. It didn't sound like Harry, though they knew it was. It sounded more like a feral howl. It didn't even sound human. He leaned against the door, letting out a long-suffering sigh, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "Oh please tell me this is the bottom of that iceberg."
Damien put his head in his hands, willing himself not to break down. He didn't want to be a bother to his parents right now. Not when Harry needed their full attention.
Draco watched his best friend's little brother pull at his hair as he slid down the wall, looking far older than his 22 years. "Sweet Merlin, I hope so." He doubted it, but he didn't have the heart to tell that to Damien.
"Your brother…I can't stress how much emotions weren't tolerated in Riddle Manor. My mother, used to go to his room and comfort him after his nightmares of the abuse. My mother would try to talk to him about it, try to help him. But Voldemort didn't want that. He, he banned my mother from seeing him, banned Harry from his only source of comfort. He…" Draco ran a hand through this air and put his head in his hands, wondering how he hadn't understood this for so long. "He wouldn't talk to Harry at all about it. He gave Harry the pensieve, so he could almost forget about it. So he could remove the memories entirely. Harry was so grateful for it, for the peace. But it wasn't peace, it was torture. From that time on, that's what Harry would do. He would remove the memories rather than deal with them, because no one ever taught him how, no one ever listened. Harry never once learned how to handle pain properly. Never. When he came to Hogwarts, he wanted a relationship with his parents. He wanted it so badly. I could see it in his eyes. But then your parents denied the abuse – of course they did. They knew nothing about it. But that denial, your parents hurt him so badly without even knowing it. What he's dealing with right now, it isn't just Jaime's death, it's everything. Everything's coming at him like a tidal wave and he has no idea what to do. It's suffocating him. It's killing him."
"That's what Dad said. I wanted to go to Harry when he walked in Ginny's room. The bassinet had been brought in. He got to hold Jaime…Jaime's body just once. I saw him from the window. He knelt down on the floor, holding him and sobbing. I wanted to go to him, but Dad stopped me. He said Harry would close up if he was disturbed. He said he had to grieve or the pain would kill him."
"He wasn't wrong. Usually Harry just vents his feelings out on someone or something: daywalkers, Orcs, alcohol, passersby, punching bags and the like but he's already tried all of that and he still can't get any relief from the pain. He's usually so in control of everything, ten steps ahead of everyone else. All he knew for so long was revenge and control, those would get you power. Power was everything. I had a similar father to Harry growing up, but the difference is that I've had my mother to talk to. And we do, not as often as we should, but we do. Harry had none of that."
Damien sank to the floor, his eyes glazed over and watering. How could his brother have been hurting so badly for so long? He knew Harry still struggled with guilt, but he had never imagined…could not possibly comprehend…
"Draco? Do me a favor?
"Yes?"
"Tell me a story."
"What? Why? What are you three years old?" Draco looked startled, completely thrown by the request.
"You make it sound like Harry was miserable for his whole childhood. I know he wasn't, otherwise he wouldn't have been so eager to leave Hogwarts. So, please tell me a story of when Harry was little? A happy one! I need to hear that he had some happiness."
Draco nodded. "Come on, over here." Damien sat down next to him, only a little surprised when Draco put an arm around him. Draco looked down at the boy sitting next to him. He needed help, before he started following his brother's lead of closing out pain. Holding Harry's little brother close to his heart, he began. "So, has Harry ever told you about the time we swiped some Felix Felicis from his Father's Potions supply?
Damien stared at him in disbelief. "You're joking! You stole Lucky Potion from Voldemort!"
Draco nodded. "Well let's see, we were I think 8 years old at the time when your brother got this awesome idea. You know, he doesn't really let on that often, but he can be quite the prankster."
A few minutes later, Draco was just getting to the good part when Damien suddenly bolted upright.
"What? What is it? What do you hear?"
"Nothing! It's stopped." He let out a huge sigh. "The screaming. He stopped." Damien made to get up, but Draco grabbed his arm. "No, not yet. Give him a few more minutes, besides I have to finish your story."
Draco shut the bathroom door behind them, just loudly enough for James and Lily to hear it. They walked slowly back to the sitting room, mentally preparing for the worst.
Harry was on all fours. He had gotten away from his parents, but he had no strength left. He was panting, shaking so badly he couldn't even stand on his own to two feet. That was evident even from this distance. They sat down on the couch, afraid to interrupt, but wanting to be near if anything was needed, wanting to hear anything that might help them help Harry.
"I've got you!" James helped Harry to sit up and took a seat next to him, motioning for his wife to do the same. He took one hand in his own and nodded for Lily to take the other. They each put an arm around him. They each gave him a hand to squeeze until there was nothing left, surrounding him with their love as best they could. They had talked about this all last night, every night since the loss of their grandchild. They had agreed to do this only when he was ready to listen, otherwise the pain would be for nothing. He hadn't been ready last night. He had been so consumed by grief he had barely been aware of what was going on around him. But he was ready now, ready to listen. He was ready to accept help and they were ready to give it. They had always been ready. They wouldn't allow him to hide his face, or his pain. That was the key. He wasn't allowed to hide, not any more. "Just squeeze our hands, Harry. Release it. Give us your pain, as much of it as you possibly can."
"That won't help!" Harry sobbed. "I need to know how you got over me!" He had never wanted to know, but he did now. As painful as it might be to hear, he wanted to know more than anything because the pain couldn't be worse than this. It just wasn't possible. At least he hoped not. He kept thinking his breaking point was just one step away.
"First of all, I'm not going to talk until you look at me. Not at the floor, at me!"
Harry slowly lifted his red, blotchy, tear stained face to his dad.
"We never forgot you! You don't get over this, you get through it." Harry nodded. He had no idea what that meant, but he nodded to show he was listening. He was listening perhaps more intently than he ever had before.
"Now I want you to close your eyes and imagine that Jaime's been found."
"Dad, please…"
"I know, son. I know it hurts, but we have to do this. Now how would you feel if you could see him again in his teenage years?"
Harry swallowed thickly, closing his eyes. He imagined a boy with his eyes and unruly hair in Ginny's ginger color, a small mischievous smile lighting up his face. He would be a marauder. He knew that the boy's grandfather and uncle would see to that, would have seen to it. "Like the happiest man ever."
"And that's what you make us every day, son. You once said we had to be ashamed of you, that we would be better off if you had not been found. What other reason could there be that we did not tell Damien about you? The answer, Harry, is that we didn't want Damien to live in fear of his brother's killer. But that doesn't mean we forgot about you. We could never forget, and we would never want to. Despite everything we've been through, we have never once wished that you had not been found. We never have and never will. Getting you back was the best thing that ever happened to us.
"You will always think about him, Harry. Every time you see a boy his age, you will find yourself wondering what he would be like: what would his favorite classes be? Which House would he be sorted to? What foods would he like? What hobbies would he enjoy? Who amongst your students would be his friends? He will never be far from your mind and he will always be in your heart, but the pain will become more bearable as time goes on. Right now it feels like a knife piercing your heart. The pain will dull down, to a longing ache, but it will never entirely go away."
"It feels like someone's twisting the knife constantly, feels like I can't breathe." Harry admitted, surprising even himself.
"I know, son. I know." James assured him, softly, caressing his son's wet cheek as he had not done since his son had been in his cradle. He had longed to comfort Harry so many times over the last nine years, but Harry had always turned away…until now.
Harry turned his tear-glazed eyes to his mum. "Is that why you asked? About Quidditch that day in the potions lab? The day Dad flooded the kitchen?"
Lily nodded. "James took Damien to a Quidditch game shortly before you were found. I would always wonder whether you would side with your father or brother, or perhaps annoy them by picking another team entirely. I never dreamed that I would get my answer. I always thought about how our family could have been, how it should have been."
James took a deep breath and prayed to any god listening that he could get through this. He hadn't talked about that day since it happened, but Harry needed to hear this…all of it. Everything James had been trying to tell him for nearly 10 years, maybe now he might possibly understand.
"When you were taken, it destroyed us. You got your revenge on those Orcs, that's what I wanted. But I never got it. Revenge is not the answer. It will quell the pain for a while, but it won't last. You know that.
"You told me, on your 18th birthday that I couldn't understand what it was like in your shoes because you weren't sure you could trust your memories. You weren't sure if your father had ever loved you." This was costing him a lot, to call that monster by the title that was rightly his own, but that monster had held that place in Harry's heart for 15 years, there was no denying it. "You weren't sure how you could have thought you knew him so well and yet not really know him at all. Well I'm telling you now, that I do understand. I had the same thoughts with Peter. I still love that rat. Some part of me, however small, will always cherish the teenage memories we shared at Hogwarts. And I've wondered for years how I could possibly not have seen him for what he was. How could I have been so close to a friend that I really didn't know at all?
"In the hospital, I didn't believe Sirius when he told me you were gone. I called him crazy. I pushed him away and ran home. I misjudged the apparition distance, but that didn't matter. I ran the whole rest of the way. I convinced myself that you were gone when the paramedics arrived because a member of the Order had taken you in. I was sure if I got to your cot that there would be a letter waiting for me, telling me where I could find you. All I found was Sirius who had chased after me. He gave me a shoulder to cry on.
"For the next several months, I pursued that rat. Whenever there was a raid or a Death Eater sighting, I would take off. I wasn't interested in Voldemort, or the high-ranking Death Eaters everyone else was concerned with. I just wanted one! The lowest of the low. I wanted the rat that had stolen my baby. It didn't matter what anyone else said. I didn't matter if I got hospitalized from the injuries. It didn't matter if I got demoted to the lowest rank or thrown out of the Auror Corps. Nothing else mattered.
"Then one day. I got a tip about a sighting. I got up to leave without reinforcements. But Sirius had been at the house at the time. He managed to stop me, and boy did he give me an earful. And this part I want you to listen to closely."
Harry nodded, his eyes locking with his dad's.
"We fought. We said a lot of things to each other. But then Sirius shoved me about against the wall. He wouldn't let me go, no matter how hard I fought. He said, 'Is that what you want? To be known as the man who died avenging his son? Because that's what almost happened. And that's what will happen if you keep this up. It will kill you!' I didn't care. I told him that. He told me I was being selfish, but I didn't care. Then he told me to look at your mother, my wife. Look at me, Harry! He said, 'You promised that you would always be here for her, you promised that you would always put her first, that she was your world! You can't die and leave her behind. Think about her, first she loses her child and then her husband, is that what you want?' Then your mother told me, 'I need you. WE need you.' And that's how I found out we were expecting your brother. Your brother was our salvation."
He turned around to see Damien on the couch, only to realize that he had already made his way over to them. He knelt down next to his brother. Lily moved out of his way and made her way over to her husband, wiping tears on her sleeve as she went. Damien took his brother in his arms, their eyes fixed on their dad.
"Seven months later in the hospital, Sirius's wife at the time, Shelley…"
"Stephanie." Lily corrected. "Her name was Stephanie."
"Whatever, the thing is we were trying to think of names. She suggested 'Harry'. She said, 'Then you'll have Harry back. Won't that be wonderful?' But I told her 'No. No one takes Harry's place. Not even him.' You will never forget Jaime. But someday, this pain will be a distant memory. When you have another child – and you will, when you're both ready for it. You and Ginny want a child so bad and you will get your wish…and when you do… you will cherish that child more than you ever thought possible. You will do anything to protect that child because unlike most parents you know the pain of the loss already and you will do anything to avoid it ever again. Just don't push her into intimacy before she's ready for it. Post-pregnancy hormones can be a nightmare, especially after a miscarriage.
"You have to be strong, for your wife. I know you can do it. You're the strongest person I know. You can survive this. You will survive it. If you need to talk to a counselor no one would think less of you for it – or, you can talk to anyone here."
"He's right." Draco spoke up, joining the family on the floor, half afraid they would send him away, but James' voice had been breaking. He needed help. The whole family did, and Draco would make sure they got it, all of them.
He sat down in front of Harry, reaching out to his shoulder. "We will get you through this. Your dad's right. You need to be strong for Ginny, but that doesn't mean you can neglect yourself. If you can't help yourself, then you won't be able to help her. Helping yourself means being honest with yourself. If you're in pain, tell someone, don't hide it. That pain will eat you alive if you let it – like you've been letting it for your whole life. If you need anything at all, you let us know. I don't care how small it is. If we can help, tell us and we will." He had watched Harry as he was tormented by nightmares for almost 20 years. That ended now. He had once listened to his father, who told him to stay out of Harry's private affairs and he had. He had stood back and watched his friend suffer for far too long, but that ended today.
"So, is there anything we can get for you?"
Harry swallowed thickly and nodded. "That hangover remedy sounds wonderful."
Draco shook his head. "No."
"No?" Harry stared at him in disbelief. "Oh come on, that's just cruel. I need that stuff!"
"Why, Harry, why do you need it?"
"Why?" Harry looked incredulously at him. "Because my head hurts, you git! What do you want me to say? That my head feels like its going to split after a whole day of drinking and crying? Is that what you want to hear?"
Draco gave him a wide smile. "Yes." He didn't waste time going to the kitchen. He summoned it wandlessly. "You have to learn to tell us what you want and why," he explained handing the vial to Harry. "We can't always take your subtle hints. We're not all accomplished at wandless Legilimancy, you know."
Harry shook his head ruefully at his friend's antics as he uncorked the vial and downed the contents in one loud gulp. He smiled for the first time in days, tipping the empty vial in Draco's direction as a mock toast. "And Ginny wondered why I thought you'd be a perfect choice for godfather."
The end – sort of.
I am currently writing a sequel regarding Isabelle's birth enitiled "Child of my Heart". The prologue of which is up now at Kurinoone's urging. I was going to wait a few days but I'm eager to see the reactions so….review button down below. Please?