AN: Wow. Wow. Thanks SO much for all the reviews guys! I got 100+ last chapter. You guys are the best! Please continue to practice your fanfiction math. (I'll provide a cheat sheet at the end of the chapter...:))

Also, as stated in my Disclaimer, my information on PTSD comes from medicinenet . com (Take out the spaces) please feel free to correct me if I have my information wrong- I'm not an expert, I'm just doing my best to make it realistic. If you want more info go to the site above and search PTSD. There's a lot of information so I suggest the PTSD at a glance section.

This chapter has been Beta read by Baduk. Any mistakes left over are my fault!

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own Harry Potter or Twilight. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Stephenie Meyer respectively. Also, my information on PTSD comes from medicinenet . com

Chapter Six

Eagerly gathering my possessions and exiting the Biology classroom, I made my way to the next period; I was learning to hate biology. After Hogwarts, The scientific stuff just didn't make sense to my brain anymore. Once upon a time science had been one of my favorite subjects at school. I hate to say it, but the magical world basically ruined the laws of physics for me. Angela waved goodbye to me as I made my way to gym. She has AP Calculus last period. Poor Girl; I don't even understand the 'easy' stuff.

As I slipped into the gymnasium, somebody brushed against me. Immediately memories crowded my mind...I was in the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast. A hand brushed against my arm, naturally, I turned. Nott whispered, "Crucio!" his voice was harsh. The pain erupts in me, burning, burning, stabbing, ripping, and breaking...pain...pain... I pull back from the unexpected touch; my breath ragged and heart beating much too fast.

It was a boy… only a boy. He was a little shorter than me, with blond, spiky hair. As I pulled back from his touch, his eyes narrowed and he gave me a strange look.

Shit. I'll never fit in anywhere. Who wants a paranoid freak around after all?

Gym, luckily, was just a lecture on the rules of Badminton. I dozed off, tuning out the rambling of the gym teacher. Last night had been pretty bad; I shivered and rubbed my head, trying to forget the flashbacks and nightmares. When the bell finally rang, I impatiently made my way to my car. I tossed my bag in the passenger seat and crammed the keys in. As I waited for an opening, so I could pull out, the girl (Jessica?) from my Spanish class came up to my window. With a sigh, I opened the window. The rain fogged glass slid down, revealing the girl in more clarity. She was dressed to attract; she wore a tight black v-neck and too much makeup.

"Hello." I said as pleasantly as I could manage. "May I help you?"

"I was just wondering if you wanted to sit with me and my friends tomorrow? At lunch?"

"Oh." I said. No way was I going to sit with this girl; I had met her type before! "That's really nice of you, but I... uh, well. I'd just rather not."

She gave him a hurt and appalled look before stepping back, a pout forming on her face.

I took the chance and pulled into the line of traffic. As I waited impatiently for the line to move, I spotted Edward standing by a shiny silver Volvo talking quietly to the blond boy. His sister, the one who had mysteriously gotten a place in Biology, stuck her head out and called to them; Edward and the blond gracefully entered their car. The line moved and I sped out of the lot; I was paying way too much attention to Edward and his family.

While driving to the police station, I carefully considered everything odd about Edward and his family. There was something about them… the way they moved and acted; it reminded me of some distant, or vague, memory. As I pulled up in the lot, Remus was waiting for me outside, as usual; his black coat stood out against the red brick of the station. He waved and made his way over. When he had settled himself in his seat, he turned to me and smiled, opening his arms. My nerves had calmed some, well, at least where Remus was concerned. I leaned into the hug, taking pleasure in having someone who was always there for me no matter what. Remus held on to me tight, his werewolf strength keeping me attached to his chest; several minutes later he pulled back and I re-situated my body before driving out of the lot.

"How was your day?" Remus predictably asked.

"It was alright; I hate math."

Remus chuckled and I flashed him a quick smile.

"Did you eat with Angela?"

"Yes, I quite like her. You know, she even looked up PTSD after I told her I had it; she knew how to approach me and everything."

"She sounds like a good friend." Remus said with a grin; he turned a little more somber and added, "Severus sent your potion along with some more calming potions. My Wolfsbane Potion should be arriving next week."

"Oh," I said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. My diagnosis of PTSD was a tricky one; I had officially been diagnosed at the end of my sixth year, but the Headmaster (Who continually wants me to call him Albus, I just can't seem to bring myself to do it...) theorized that I had been suffering from it since after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. I privately admitted that I thought that was true. Ever since the catastrophe of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, I've been dogged by flashbacks, nightmares, and phobias of graveyards, mazes, and the dark. As time went on, more of the symptoms of PTSD began to show up; I had trouble concentrating or remembering things that didn't have to do with the war. Sometimes, I would black out for hours at a time, waking up and having no idea of what I had done. If somebody came up to me unannounced, I startled; occasionally falling into a flashback.

It was Remus who finally diagnosed me. After my parents died he spent several years in the Muggle world, working as a secondary school teacher. One year, he had a student who had PTSD. The school had made arrangements so the teen wouldn't have to face, or think about violence and gave a seminar to the teachers about PTSD.

Remus had hesitantly suggested the disorder after I had woken up in the middle of a Potions class having no memory of getting up for breakfast that morning. Poppy, Albus, and Professor Snape had latched onto the idea; delving into further research regarding the subject. Amazingly, I had made it through everything without developing Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD), which was more permanent. They attempted to help me with Muggle medicines, but most things I tried made me prone to random magical outbursts and terrible rashes. Finally, I tried a potion that Severus had formulated to help with my symptoms. That, along with an occasional calming potion, kept me able to function. Last month, we were even able to lower the dosage; I was getting better, slowly, agonizingly slow, but better nonetheless.

Sometimes, when I lay awake at night, unable to sleep due to a bout of insomnia, I considered what my life would be like if Neville had been the Chosen One. I didn't usually get too far; I imagined Neville in my spot and knew that he would have come out of it a lot worse than I had.

Remus broke into my thoughts, "What about Biology?"

I groaned. "Remus, are you still worrying about Edward?"

Remy scowled, "Harry, you didn't see how jittery you were yesterday; however, I trust, due to your use of his name, that you worked things out?"

"Yeah, I guess. He was sick, was all. You were right; I just blew things out of proportions."

"You guess?" Remus asked me, ignoring my other comments. He was getting way too good at reading me.

"Well, I don't know. There's something about him and his whole family, really, that just makes me anxious."

Remus' brow creased in worry. "It's not that he's a bad person," I reassured, "It's just that they remind me of something..."

"Have you noticed anything in particular?" I nodded, counting raindrops as they ran down the window; the light turned green and I drove on, counting dashes on the road instead.

"Harry? Anything?" Remus asked again. I lost count of my counting and shook my head. It was a new obsession: counting things; I had taken to counting things as I walked down the hall, or drove, or ate, or even just sitting in class taking notes.

"What's going on Harry?" I flushed. I hated to worry Remus, or the others; even though they constantly reminded me that I could come to them with regarding anything. "You've been out of it recently."

"I-" I started hesitantly; Remus laid a reassuring hand on my arm. "You remember what Poppy said about Anxiety Disorders sometimes co-occurring with PTSD?"

"Yes. Do you-" Remus said softly. I could tell he was worried, his voice was strained. "Do you think you have one?"

"I have to count things."

"Oh, OCD then."

"Yeah."

The car fell silent; the only noise was the soft whooshing of rain and tires on asphalt.

"I'll contact Poppy and Severus. We won't try the Muggle remedies this time."

"Thank Merlin!" I breathed and Remus chuckled as I pulled into the driveway. I counted the trees along the drive; there were fourteen, standing straight. I slipped out of the car and Remus did the same, handing my bag as we walked up to the door. He pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. He stood aside to let me in, but I couldn't go in first, what if someone was in there? Ridiculous, I told myself, but Remus had already understood and walked in first. I followed. As with the night before, I went up to my room and spent hours struggling with my homework. It was harder as this new compulsion grabbed hold of me; I counted words in a sentence as I read Shakespeare; I counted rulers as I researched for Government; I counted letters in words as I tried to study for a Spanish test. The compulsion served me in math, as I recounted every problem I did. There was no Biology homework tonight, for which I was thankful for. I went downstairs, counting steps as I went.

Remus and I had a quiet supper. After we ate, Remus cleared the table and washed the dishes while I went upstairs and showered. Dressed in a pair of sweats and one of Sirius' old t-shirts, I rolled out a mat on the floor. I sat down on the mat and crossed my legs. Remus came in a moment later and laid down his own mat. Together we counted our breaths. As he led me through my meditation exercise, I began to relax each muscle in my body. When I was nearly a puddle on the floor, Remus helped me into bed, tucked me in, turned the lights out, and left, leaving the door ajar behind him.

Remus's POV

After I had tucked Harry into bed, I made my way into my own room. A cheery fire was already burning and I took the floo powder down from the mantle. Throwing a handful of floo powder into the fireplace I called "Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts!"

The transatlantic spin left me a little bit dizzy as the Headmaster looked up from his desk.

"Still awake Albus?"

"Yes, indeed. There is much to be done. Is there a reason you called Remus? All is well, I should hope."

I sighed, shifting my weight onto my knees.

"Oh, dear," Albus sighed, pulling a chair over to the fireplace and taking a seat. "Harry, I presume?"

"Yes Albus."

"Let me call Poppy and Severus; if you are calling at such a late hour it must be an important issue." I nodded, wishing I was calling because Harry was doing phenomenally.

Albus turned and called a house-elf, sending the elf off to fetch Poppy and Severus. Several minutes later, the two people in question came through the door. I called out a greeting to both; after which, each conjured a chair by the fireside and took their seats.

"How is Potter?" Severus asked.

"He's mostly well." I said. "He's made a friend and an... acquaintance, I suppose you could call him."

"That is good," Poppy said softly, a smile gracing her features. "It isn't why you called though."

"No. Harry thinks he has OCD. He can't stop counting things. He's only just told me, but I bet it has been bothering him before this. Unfortunately, He's very adept at keeping things to himself."

"Yes," Albus agreed sadly. Severus was scribbling some notes on a piece of parchment while Poppy pulled out a potion.

"Here," She said, handing the potion to me, "It's an anti-anxiety potion that he can take on a regular basis with his other potions. We have several students with OCD; it's a very common disorder among wizards. Ask him if he thinks he's had it since he was a child. If it helps, you can tell him that James was diagnosed with OCD. This potion should keep it well managed."

I reached my arm through the fire and accepted the potion. "Thank you. James had OCD?"

"Yes. He was diagnosed very young and his parents helped him manage it. From what Harry tells me of his Aunt, it sounds like she may have had a case as well."

I nodded, considering.

"Thank you for waking up so late to address my concerns," I murmured in goodbye.

They all brushed my thanks away. I pulled back across the Atlantic just as Harry began to scream.

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