Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry potter series, any of its characters, settings, ideas, plotlines or other such things. All of this belongs to the AMAZING J.K. Rowling!
Harry found himself biting down on his lip, attempting to prevent himself from crying. He had awoken in a bloodstained bed, his shirt having attached itself to his back. His hair too was matted with blood, wounds obviously being a little worse than he had expected.
As he stood, the boy felt a little woozy. Though he was unsure of whether it was due to blood loss or sleep deprivation, he assumed it was the latter. Harry needed to shower; there was no doubt about it. Luckily, he seemed to remember where the towels were kept.
Intent on not waking his guardians, Harry tiptoed down the hall. Lightly treading one foot in front of the other, he kept his eyes on his godfather's door. Should Sirius awake, Harry would never hear the end of it. The man would be worried sick, awaking to find his godson drenched in blood. Reaching the linen cupboard, Harry pulled out an unused towel.
Throwing himself into the shower, Harry welcomed the hot water as it trailed down his limbs. His back stung, scars raw and red. Though tears trailed down his cheeks, they were masked by steam and water. Nobody would ever know the difference. Each sob that racked his frame was one brought on by tears shed only for himself. He did not cry in the presence of others, it was a sign of weakness.
Splashing his face with soap and water, the boy stared at himself in the foggy mirror. His reflection was pitiful, bony and bruised. His back was welted by belt marks, his neck reddened by finger shaped bruises. The scar that ran down his arm seemed more prominent than ever, aggravated by the hot, soapy water. Crying out once more, Harry turned the shower off.
Dabbing the wound on his back with his towel, Harry realized that lash was still bleeding. Swearing under his breath, the boy began rummaging through Remus' medicine cupboard. An assortment of toothbrushes, bruise salves and potions filled the shelves. None of the bottles were labeled, making it all but impossible for Harry to heal his wounds magically. Muggle bandages would have to do for the time being.
Wrapping the dressing around his chest and back, he struggled to properly fit it. The movement was unnatural and a little awkward, almost impossible for one to do unassisted. Harry had no idea how he'd managed, but somehow he'd been able to wrap the bandage around his back.
Throwing on a clean pair of clothes, albeit a little big, Harry began descending the stairs. As a way of thanking Remus and Sirius for saving him, Harry had intended on preparing a full English breakfast... should his godfather be properly equipped with the right ingredients of course.
Pulling the pan from the draw beside the stove, Harry searched the cabinets for some oil. He was unsure as to where anything was in the kitchen, aside from the necessities. He would perhaps have to ask Remus next time he was around... he hated feeling so utterly useless. Realizing that the oil was most probably sorted above the stove, Harry ran to get a chair. The cupboard happened to be slightly out of reach, the boy indeed having to reach even whilst balancing on the chair. Why Remus had felt the need to place it so high was beyond him.
After spotting the oil on the top shelf, Harry made the attempt to stretch. As he did so, his wound began to reopen... again. An unbelievably sharp pain was sent spiraling down his spine, all but immobilizing the boy. Crying out in pain, Harry jumped down from the chair. Something was definitely amiss.
Tears filled his eyes though he refused to let them spill, the pain slowly becoming unbearable. It felt as if someone had stabbed him with a hot poker, repeatedly jabbing the same spot. Falling to his knees, Harry clasped his back, trying vainly to stop the bleeding. Pulling his hand away from the wound, his fingers, now stained red, began to quiver. Something was definitely wrong.
Some part of Harry wished to stay downstairs and cry, another part yearned for comfort. He wanted Sirius and Remus to hold him, tell him everything was going to be ok. He wanted to be looked after, cared for. It was not an unusual request, simply something he had been deprived of for so many years.
Realizing this was no time to be proud, the boy jumped to his feet. The situation had escalated out of his control. Scuffing his shoes as he went, the boy made the long ascent up the stairwell. Moving pictures and charmed portraits made little comment on his state, simply gawked as he walked by. It seemed Harry was in a much worse state than he'd thought.
Quickening his pace a little, the frail boy arrived outside of Remus' room. Hadn't he been the one to tell Harry he'd had medical training? Hoping to god that his new guardian knew what he was doing, he raised his fist to the door.
Knocking lightly on the frame, Harry awaited a welcome. Surely Remus would invite him in. Footsteps could be heard on the opposite side of the room, the clinking of a lock soon thereafter.
oOo
Remus swung open the door, expecting to be met by a bewildered Sirius... asking him for food. To his surprise, Harry stood rather meekly before him. The boy's face was drained of colour though a patchwork of bruises seemed to cover his neck. Harry's eyes, sunken and gaunt, looked to be pleading with him.
Stepping aside as to let the boy in, Remus couldn't help but stare at his blood soaked fingers. Allowing panic to befall him, the man could feel a lump forming in the back of his throat. His chest seemed tight, hands clenching into fists. Something was wrong with his cub!
"Remus I need help" the boy slurred, obviously a little disorientated.
Ushering Harry into his quarters, the werewolf allowed all other thoughts to clear his mind. He needed to be 100% focused on helping James' son.
"What is it bud?" he asked sincerely, attempting to hide his panic.
Harry seemed to be on the verge of tears, hunching over in a rather uncomfortable looking position. He was going to throw up. Summoning a bucket with his wand, Remus rushed to the boy's side.
For the first time since Harry had entered the room, Remus noticed his blood stained shirt. For a moment he had been unable to contain his sorrow, mouth falling open in surprise. Thrusting the bucket beneath Harry's face, the man turned his attention to his back.
"Harry," he demanded urgently "Harry what happened?"
A pale face soon met his own, tears now freely falling down his cheeks. Had the boy not been in such tremendous pain, Remus would have pulled him into an embrace.
"Please cub," he begged "Just tell me what happened."
In response Harry simply shook his head, unable to form the words he required.
"Can you fix it?" he asked simply, doe eyed and needy.
Remus was at a loss for words, nodding his head in Harry's general direction. "I'll be right back ok? I'm just going to wake Sirius."
Harry notably stiffened, grabbing ahold of Remus' shirt. He obviously did not want the man to leave his side, either that or he wished to keep his godfather in the dark. Smiling halfheartedly, Remus pried himself from the boy's grip, vowing not to alert Sirius. Harry seemed to relax a little, falling into Remus' arms.
"Harry listen to me" the man said "I know you're not going to like this but... I'm going to have to take your jumper off."
Harry seemed to completely lose the plot, beginning to sob uncontrollable. Though a complete mental and physical mess, he seemed to nod in response. Sighing deeply, he raised his arms. Remus began tugging at the sweatshirt, careful not to knock Harry's wound. Lifting the hoodie over the boy's head, the man failed to suppress a gasp.
"Dear God Harry!" he cried "what have they done to you?"
Haha what do we think? R&R 3
