Painful Awakenings

Harry had been home now for 3 days and still he hadn't been truly awake at all. The first night he slept peacefully. Not one nightmare or vision had plagued him. During the day he had continued sleeping. Ron and Hermione had refused to move from the room. They only finally gave in only when both their stomachs gave loud rumbles at dinner time and Molly refused to have them eat in the room. So after a quick supper, they had rushed back upstairs to sit vigil at their friends bedside.

The second night wasn't as peaceful as the first. After Molly had finally convinced Hermione to go to her room to "keep Ginny company", Ron was getting ready for bed himself when he heard a noise coming from the bed. It was quiet at first and at first he thought it was nothing but the house and its usual spooking creaks and moans. But the second time it happened he looked around the room almost in a panic to see what it was. He almost dismissed it but when he looked down at the bed next to his, Harry was actually the one making these noises. His face was screwed up in pain and he was breaking out into a cold sweat. He was emitting small moans and was muttering something under his breath. Ron had to go right up to Harry's bed and put his ear by his mouth to tell what Harry was saying.

"no…please get off…please…no more…get off….please!"

Ron's blood ran cold as he realized Harry had to be dreaming about his torture. Whatever they did, he knew it had to be unforgivable and horrible. Madam Pomfrey had explained what his injuries were and how to treat them, but when asked how they happened, she would change the subject. He knew it wasn't fair to ask her. She probably didn't know herself what exactly they had done to him, but he wanted answers. He wanted someone to tell him everything they had done so he could mentally beat himself up for not being able to prevent it or being able to protect Harry.

He didn't know what to do now. He was staring at his friend obviously in pain and hurting and being scared out of his wits by something he couldn't see, and yet he had no idea how to help. He got up from where he was kneeling on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed by Harry's head. All he did was simply place his hand on Harry's forehead and he went still. His face relaxed and so did the rest of his body. He tried to move back to his own bed but the second his skin stopped touching Harry's, his face screwed up again and a small whine made its way past Harry's mouth.

All he could do was make himself comfortable sitting against the headrest of the bed and placed his hand back on Harry's head. This time he smoothed Harry's hair back from his sweat soaked forehead and then fell still as he too drifted off, only to awake early in the hours of dawn with a very stiff neck. So dragged his way to his bed after making sure Harry was still calm.

That next day was spent with Pomfrey in the room constantly to monitor a very persistent fever that was climbing dangerously. It could be contained for a little while but would then spike to dangerous levels. At one point, it got to be so high and could not be taken down with any amount of potion. That ended with Mr. Weasley picking Harry up and running to the nearest washroom. After filling it with ice cold water, he dropped Harry in and had to restrain him so he wouldn't hurt himself or anyone else. But still Harry didn't wake up. 'Thank merlin' thought Ron. Anyone being dumped into a freezing cold bath wouldn't find it very comfortable. When his fever was down, he was dried and put back into dry clothes and carried to bed. Even an hour later, he was buried under blankets and still shivering.

The third night was the worst. Ron didn't sleep once that night. He sat with Harry all night but even resting his hand on Harry's head like he did before didn't seem to help the nightmares that were plaguing him. Harry was shaking and thrashing around in his bed like he was fighting off some kind of attack. 'He probably was' Ron realized with a heavy heart. So he sat there all night, refusing to sleep until he saw some sign that Harry was waking up.

That finally happened though that third day. It was raining lightly outside and around 3 o'clock, Harry finally started to stir. Ron, Hermione, Molly, and Madam Pomfrey were all together in the room when Harry let out a low groan. Molly and Poppy immediately rushed to the bed.

"Potter? Harry can you hear me? Harry if you can hear me open your eyes please." Poppy urged.

He let out another low grumbling noise and he forced his eyes to open, snapping them shut immediately when the light proved to much for his pounding head to take.

"Ron go shout out the lights please." His mum said as she stroked Harry's hair. "Shhhhh Harry it's ok. It's just Mrs. Weasley. You're safe now. Every things going to be ok now I promise." She whispered as he stared at each of them confused and slightly terrified.

"W-wha…" he winced at his sore throat and coughed and tried to swallow but he found that his mouth and throat were much to dry. Madam Pomfrey must have noticed his struggle because he soon found a pair of gentle and cool hands pulling him up into a sitting position and a glass of cold water in hand. His hands were shaking but he managed to swallow a few glorious mouthfuls before spilling the rest of it into his lap. He looked down shamefully at his lack of strength.

"Sorry" he said quietly as Molly vanished the wetness.

"Oh no dear don't be. It's not your fault. Your just going to need to gain your strength back is all. You've been sleep for three days and you've been through a lot. Your body needs time to heal and strengthen again." Pomfrey said to try and console his reddening cheeks. He nodded slightly and then tried to say what he was going to before.

"What happened? How did I get out of there? Last thing I remember is them in the room torturing me." He shuddered slightly at the mention of that day. He could remember what their last form of torture was. He could still feel their bodies pressed into his, their smell still burnt into his nose, their breath against his skin. They had been inside of him. They had tore him apart from the inside out. Literally. As he thought more about it, the more ill he felt. He could feel bile start working its way up his throat and he only had time to mutter the words, "M'gonna be sick.", before a bowl was conjured and placed in front of him. He threw himself forward and retched hard into the bowl even though all that came up was potions and water. He dry heaved a few times and he could feel his stomach contracting painfully and he moaned in pain. Everything hurt. There were hands on his back rubbing and there were hands holding a rag to his face wiping off the sweat and spittle.

"Here drink this" Poppy said while holding a vile of some bluish grey liquid. He looked at her skeptically but soon took it and downed it in two gulps. The second it hit his tongue, he almost retched again. It tasted awful, but he managed to keep it down. He was glad he did. His nausea went away and his head no longer hurt. He nodded at her thankfully and then leaned into Molly, resting his tired head onto her shoulder.

"My dad got you out Harry" Ron spoke up after everything had calmed down. Harry jumped. He had hardly even noticed that Ron and Hermione were there. They were both staring at him worriedly and he gave them a questioning look, to tired to speak.

"The order found out you were in Malfoy Manor. You somehow did accidental magic. It set off alarms. They made a plan and dad went to find you when they were fighting off the death eaters. You were pretty beat up there mate. M'glad your ok." He said around the lump that had suddenly lodged itself into his throat. Hermione nodded in agreement but didn't speak as she had tears running hopelessly down her face.

He found it odd that he couldn't really remember anything that had happened when he escaped. He vaguely remembered being in a lot of pain when he hit the ground, and he remembered a voice yelling for help, but that was it.

"Is he ok? I mean he didn't get caught did he? For helping me? Did anyone get hurt?" He asked with a tint of worry in his voice. The looks of sadness and hesitation in their faces did not go unnoticed though. He felt his heart drop to his stomach and do a back flip. That's when he noticed that he didn't know where anyone else was.

"Was- was it anyone in your family Ron?" He asked with a slow hesitation. He held his breath and when he saw him shake his head no, he let it out in a loud huff. He was confused now. He was trying to think of anyone else who it could've been. And then he remembered.

"Where- Where's Remus? Is he ok?" he didn't even need an answer. Their faces told him everything. "No… Where is he? Is he going to be ok? Please tell me he's okay? Ron?" He was pleading now. Why wouldn't they tell him what was going on? He started shaking and continued to stare at Ron for an answer. Ron looked at every one else helplessly and then turned to Harry.

"Harry…mate… Remus got hurt pretty bad. He had silver in his bloodstream and he lost a lot of blood…" He cursed himself as he used the past tense. And Harry seemed to notice too.

"What do you mean 'had'? Pomfrey patched him up right? Surely it was easy right?" He looked at Pomfrey with hope and she didn't make eye contact.

"Harry… she did everything she coul-"

"NO!" Harry screamed and everyone was shocked into silence. "NO! He can't be gone! He's just sick!"

"Harry she did everything she could but he didn't make it. He was too weak." Molly said and he just stared at her in shock. His mouth was trying to form words but he simply couldn't. His mind had gone completely blank. All he could think was,

'Remus's dead….dead… Remus…dead Remus….' And as many times as he repeated this to himself, it didn't seem to settle in his mind. It couldn't be true. That would mean he had nobody. And suddenly out of nowhere his mood changed. In a startling low and menacing voice he growled,

"Who?"

" 'Who' what mate?" Ron asked nervously.

"Who did it? Who killed him?" his voice was still scary.

"Ummm…..it was…..it was Pettigrew."

Harry's mood seemed to change dramatically again. He simply nodded and looked blank. Ron was starting to get worried when Harry finally spoke up again.

"I wanna see him.'

"Harry dear, you're not strong enough. You'll make yourself sick if you get up" Mrs. Weasley said.

" I don't care. Please. I need to see him." He begged

They all gave each other looks and then seemed to come to a decision.

"You can see him as long as you take someone into the room with you incase you get ill." Pomfrey bargained. As soon as he nodded, he was being carefully dragged off the bed. When he first tried to stand he almost collapsed but was caught by Ron before he hit the ground.

"I'll take him mum. Is that okay mate?" he asked. Harry looked up at him with sad eyes and nodded his head. So they clumsily made there way out of the room and down the hallway. When they reached the room with the nametag 'Sirius' on it, Harry gasped in shock and surprise at seeing the name.

"I'm sorry Harry. It was the only room they saw fit to keep him in. It made the most sense. They're moving him tonight." He waited until Harry caught his breath and then pushed open the door. At the first sight of Remus on the bed, Harry gave up all attempts of standing and simply let Ron take all of his weight. He walked Harry over to the bed and sat him down in the chair that was set next to it. Harry just sat there staring unbelievably at the body laying on the bed. It still hadn't sunk in. Remus looked like he was just sleeping. Like he could wake up at any time. But he was too pale Harry realized. And when he touched Remus's hand, it was ice cold. Because he was dead. He had finally gotten free of Voldemorts Headquarters and now his closest thing to a parent was gone. Just like his real parents. Just like Sirius just a month or two before. Now he was really alone for the first time in his life. He drew in a shuddering breath that he didn't even know he was holding and then felt tears falling with grace down his cheeks and onto the bedspread below him. Sirius's bedspread. With that one final coherent thought, he felt as if the world was spinning underneath his feet and the walls were crashing in on him. His world was shattering and he couldn't do one damned thing about it.

He barely felt the arms that were holding up, keeping him upright in the chair. He barely heard his own pleads and moans of utter despair. He was sobbing more then he had ever in his life before. But he didn't have the mind set to care. Nothing mattered. All he knew was pain.