Ha-ha, chapter four, up so soon… Happy Earth Day. In addition, as a special prize, anyone who can give me the source of the chapter title via e-mail will get a special sneak-peak of the next chapter a full 24 hours before posting.
Chapter Four: Buckets of Rain, Buckets of Tears
The light was so intense, it seemed to be burning holes through her eyes and into her head- and then the nausea came. Leaping off of the couch, she barely made it to the bathroom in time when she let loose the remnants of the vodka that was too much for her tiny frame.
"Ginny?" came the female voice with the American lilt.
"Ugh…" was all she could muster in reply.
"Serves you right after last night." Lucy taunted, shifting Emma from one hip to the other. Ginny looked up from the toilet to the doorway.
"What did I do?" she asked apprehensively. The whole night after shot number five was blurry.
"Oh, you mean aside from the fact that you were too hammered to be around your parents? Or that you screamed at Harry until he cried?"
"I made him cry?" she had envisioned their reunion to be a merry one, with lots of apologies and snogging, but apparently-
"You'll be lucky if you see him again." Ginny tried to move from her spot, and found herself vomiting again. When it passed, she asked "Where is he?"
"How should I know? I was too busy trying to calm you down"
"I have to find him." She stood up, and caught a glimpse of her gruesome hung-over appearance. After cleaning up and dawning borrowed clothes, she apparated to Diagon Ally.
"How's being evil treating you?" asked George as she entered his shop.
"Where's Harry?" Ron was suddenly behind her, looking murderous. "You knew he was messed up. What'd you have to go after him for?"
"I didn't-"
"You didn't what? You didn't make his coming back any easier, that's for sure. You didn't have to mop him up this morning, spending over an hour trying to get him off of the couch he was sleeping on.
"What you did do, however, was probably push him away forever. Do you have ANY IDEA how hard it was to get him down to that pub in the first place? DO YOU?" He was yelling now, people were staring, and her quilt mounted as his words resonated painfully in her skull.
"I don't even remember," she muttered, her eyes filling.
"Lucky you." Came George from behind the counter.
"Where is he?"
"Gone."
"Gone?" she asked, horrified.
"Gone."
"Where?"
"Away."
"Come on," she pleaded to her brothers, "please, I just want to talk to him…" The boys exchanged looks, and Ginny could tell they were silently agreeing on something.
"He was here." Said George. "He slept upstairs. This morning, we saw how messed up he was, and so Hermione carted him off for a marathon session with his shrink.
She nodded, pushed her way into the back room, and cried.
…
"She hates me," he slipped out over his messy crying. He had been in Thurmar's chair for two hours- his psychiatrist had cleared his whole day's schedule when he saw his distressed patient.
"Because you wouldn't drink?" Harry nodded.
"She was going to forgive me, but I- I couldn't even take the stupid drink." He took several steadying breaths. "Why am I such a cock-up?" he asked, his gaze searching, pleading.
"You're not."
"I was just being st-stupid anyway," he hiccupped, "thinking a girl like her would take back a guy like me."
Thurmar's forehead creased. "'A guy like you'? What does that mean, exactly?" harry shook his head. "Harry,"
"I don't want to." The room was quiet, save for his ragged breathing.
"Are you hungry?" The typical shrug came as his reply. "Chinese?" Thurmar used a telephone to order muggle take-out –an act he knew Harry appreciated.
…
"How are the noodles?" asked Thurmar, using mastery over chopsticks.
"Fine," said Harry, twirling them around his fork like spaghetti.
"And the beef?"
"Spicy."
"Is that okay?"
Harry shrugged.
"So, are you thinking of going back?"
"She said she hated me."
"Did she actually use those words?"
"She implied it."
"So, you're going to let her drunken implications change the course of your life?"
"People say what they mean when they're drunk," he spat back. "It's the only time they're honest."
"You weren't drinking," he pointed out, his voice soft.
"Yeah, well…"
"It must have brought back plenty of memories," said Thurmar. Harry shrugged, concentrating on his nearly full plate.
"I just don't want to be like him."
"There's nothing wrong with that- he doesn't sound like he was a very good role-model." Harry frowned. "He drank a lot?" He squeezed his eyes shut. "And that's when he'd hit you- when he'd been drinking." This was not a question.
"What did he say when he was hitting you?" Harry sniffed, beginning to cry for what felt like the millionth time in the past two days. "Harry?"
"Freak," he breathed.
"Sorry?
"He called me freak." He said clearly.
Thurmar didn't say anything, but scribbled on his notes. "And you think he was telling the truth?" Harry let out a choked sob.
"You're not a freak, Harry."
"I'm ugly." His voice and expression certainly were.
"No, you're not."
"Why else wouldn't she want me? She did before…"
"Before what?"
"Before I left. She grew up, and now looks even more amazing, if you'll believe it, and I just…"
"You just what?"
"She needs to be with someone else."
"Someone else?"
"Yeah?"
"Someone better?"
"Yeah." He suddenly looked relieved, as though they were on the same page.
"Someone who never let their drunken uncle beat them?"
"SHUT UP!" Harry was suddenly at his feet. "JUST-SHUT-UP!"
"Harry," said Thurmar, remaining painfully calm.
"DON'T! DON'T EVER TELL ANYBODY, EVER. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
"I do."
"Good," Harry choked out, pacing now. "I shouldn't have even told you, if you're going to just-"
"It's your secret to share with whom you choose." Harry was furiously wiping his face.
"Harry, it was before you even liked Ginny, that can't be all that's going on."
"It doesn't matter how long ago it was, it still happened, and-"
"I know."
"I just-"
"You've been thinking about it a lot lately." Harry nodded. "Do you want to clean up the mess?" Blushing, Harry reached down and tried to clean up his spilled food. "Here, let me help." Thurmar waved his wand, and the mess was gone. "Do you want to sit down?"
Back in the chair, Harry folded back into himself. "I'm sorry…"
"It's been a while since your last outburst."
"I don't like it when you bring that stuff up."
"Of course you don't- but do you really think that advice will make it all go away?"
"I want it to."
"Well, you've been avoiding it for a long time, and that's a lot to avoid. The cutting is evidence to that."
"I don't do that anymore," he defended himself quickly.
"May I see?" Harry pulled his sleeves down lower, looking nervous. The silence was heavy.
"Have you been writing?" Harry shook his head. "Do you need help with it?" Again, another head shake, more firmly this time.
"Would you consider talking to Ginny when you're both sober?"
"She won't want to."
"Well, maybe if you tried-"
"We've been over this."
"How you're not good enough."
"Yup."
"How she deserves better."
"Are you trying to hurt me?"
"No, I'm just trying to understand you."
"There's nothing to understand."
"Are you sure? You seem like a pretty complicated guy." Harry didn't answer, but was staring at a book on Thurmar's shelf. It was leather-bound, and looked a lot like his photo album. He had never shared it to anybody, but maybe…
"Aside from the cutting, and the beatings, and the situation with He-Who-Must-Not-B-Named, and Sirius dying, and the betrayal by Dumbledore, and your confusion with Snape, and your high-pressure job, and your debilitating depression, and the heroic stature you feel you don't deserve, and never having a real family, and being estranged from your dearest friends, and being rejected by the love of your life, is there anything else bothering you?"
Harry looked as though he had been slapped.
"Harry,"
"What?" He sounded scared.
"We can move as slowly as you need- but we need to move. Let's just get it all on the table now, and that'll be the worst of it."
"What are you-"
"We don't want to do too much at once, but we also don't want to do nothing."
"So, you want me to tell you everything, and call it a baby step?"
"I want you to let me help you. We'll go inch by inch, and what you feel you cannot let me know. You can use your book."
"Why can't we just keep going like we have been?"
"Because we seem to be cranking down, and it's obviously hurting the relationships that you managed to keep healthy for a long time."
Harry said quietly "But you just said that we'd go at my pace…"
"And we will. I'm just letting you know that we're going to kick it up a notch."
"That doesn't even make any sense."
Thurmar cocked his head to the side and studied him for a while. Harry was reminded forcibly of Voldemort, just before he severed the bond that had connected them for so long- and then, the image of his dead body found itself stuck in Harry's mind's eye.
"People who have had a traumatic experience often find that the event itself is etched into their memory as though it had happened but five minutes ago, yet the immediate recuperation afterward seems hazy. Your life has been one trauma after another, and there's no doubting that it's a miracle that you turned out as well as you have. I suspect that now, as we're pushing full-steam ahead, everything looks a little confusing."
As wrong as he knew it was, he couldn't stop his imagination from picturing Thurmar shifting between Voldemort in the forest, his wand raised, and Dumbledore at king's Cross, Harry's own subconscious manifesting itself to give him the answers he already had.
He looked away, trying only to hear the voice. "I don't like this," he breathed.
"I know." The snow pilling up on the ledge outside the window was making dark seem to approach unusually fast. "You know how you told me to not tell anyone about the situation with your uncle?"
"You didn't, did you?" he asked very fast, suddenly panicky. "Because it's really not even worth mentioning, it was a really long time ago, and-"
"Harry." He stopped. "I was going to say that you have nothing to worry about. Don't you remember our first session? And our second? And almost every session for the first several months? I am your healer, and you are my patient. I am bound by magical contract to keep your confidence- not that I wouldn't anyway. You trusted me when you told me those things. Now you need to believe that trusting me was probably one of the best things you've ever done for yourself."
Harry nodded, his eyes closed, and breathed out through his nose.
"Do you trust me?" Harry looked up, and the look in Thurmar's eyes was just like the look in Dumbledore's when he was giving the instruction for obedience before going to the cave.
"Yes."
"Do you want my advice?"
"Yes."
"Talk to her."