Half Lives – Chapter Thirteen

"No, no please don't ask me that Sirius." Remus shook his head and avoided his friend's eyes. Harry suddenly had the feeling he should have stayed in bed that night and not gone wandering when good boys and girls should be in bed. He partially closed the door and remained out of sight, feeling only absently at fault about spying on his godfather and mentor. Again. Where had this spying habit come from?

"Why shouldn't I? Is it too much for you? The guilt? Well, did you think me guilty, Remus, did you?" Sirius had backed Remus against the kitchen counter and was gesturing wildly with his hands, a juxtaposition to the quiet, furious restraint of their voices.

"You know full well what I thought Sirius!" Remus snapped. "We've done this! Let it go."

"Let it go! Let it go he says!" Sirius got that frantic look in his eyes again, which reminded Harry painfully of their first meeting. He could see no empty bottles in the kitchen, but Harry didn't think Sirius needed the alcohol to unbalance. "Well sorry, old friend, but it's not something one can just 'let go' of! You suspected me just as I suspected you. And it was all too easy to know me as the traitorous, guilty dog that I was." All the air seemed to go out of Sirius suddenly, and he staggered back and sat down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs.

"Listen to me Remus." He said tiredly. "I'm arguing like we were teenagers again and we could both get up and shake the words off our backs."

"It doesn't matter that you can't, Sirius. It doesn't matter." Remus stood up straight.

"Yes it does." Sirius pursed his lips and glared at his feet ruefully for a moment. "It does, to James and Harry it does." He sighed. "Tonks says I have an emotional impairment. Arrested development. She gave me this long spiel about it. Long periods of dejection. Physical illness in response to personal conflict. Unable to build relationships. Or progress them, I guess, since I still seem to think everyone is fifteen years younger."

Remus was well used to his friend's sudden monologues, and as such remained silent for some time after, just to check he wasn't going to continue. "Nymphadora likes watching people. She likes their characters. I think she finds it amusing that we can change what's inside our heads and our hearts, but we can't do the same to our exterior. She says it feels like exactly the same process to her. She can't understand how we can do one but not the other."

"Metamorphaging is just another sense to her isn't it?" Sirius asked, slyly watching his friend's expression.

"She can't imagine what it's like to be without." Remus agreed.

"Strange then, that she hasn't changed once these past three weeks then." Remus didn't reply. "What was it, 'too young, too pretty, too good'?"

Remus sat down next to Sirius without looking at him. "Too young, too full of promise, too clean. She doesn't need me Sirius. No matter what you think."

"Oh I wouldn't say it was what I thought that was important."

"She's naive; she'll change what she thinks within a year."

"Don't keep yourself from something good just because you're too stuck in the past to see it, old friend." Sirius cautioned.

Remus stood suddenly and glared down at him. "Stop with your barbed comments, Sirius. I have my reasons so stop prying where you aren't wanted. And for once in your life follow your own advice, see what's in front of you, see where you are wanted, and talk to Harry."

With that Remus left, swiftly exiting the room in what might have been called a tantrum.

-0-

Harry removed his hand from his mouth, where he had clasped it to smother his breathing, and stepped out from behind the open door as he heard Remus' bedroom door close one floor up. He couldn't believe his old professor had walked not a foot away from him, and not noticed him entirely, all because he was hiding behind a door of all things. He breathed heavily for a few moments and then spent some serious minutes thinking, right there in the hallway. He came up with one conclusion. He was right. Sirius needed someone from his past, from the happy memories to keep him anchored in the real world, but Remus would only argue with him. Deliberately ruffling up his hair, Harry composed himself briefly, bringing to the front of his mind what he had come to call his 'James persona' (who, incidentally, had spent the last two days whinging at the back of his head for being ignored), and stepped through the kitchen door.

"Alright Pads? What had Moony's wand in such a knot? Such an old woman, he is. As crotchety as Agrippa. Anyway, listen, I came up with these new drawings. I was thinking, if we extend the spell a bit this way, and increase the duration of the third syllable, we could get an extra three feet of coverage! What do you think? Am I not amazing?"


Harry sat bolt upright in his seat. He was in the kitchen. How had he gotten here? He had been in the bathroom, he'd just left the shower...then his hair looked flat so he'd artistically arranged it for that 'Just Jumped Off a Broom' look (he knew Evans liked it really)...then he'd been about to go wake Ron when-

And he was in the kitchen. Everyone was there. Remus, Sirius, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Molly and Arthur (who really should have been at work by now). It was a Monday so there were no Order members and Bill and Fleur had gone back to their flat (they only visited weekends). And he was in the kitchen.

"Guys..." Harry started uncertainly. "What just happened?"

"Alight mate," Ron huffed, "I know I'm not the most astute guy, but even I can tell when I say something out of order. Just because I apologised-"

"No, I-" Harry looked around; no one else seemed confused. The adults were quietly talking about how Pro-Dumbledore Wizengamot members had begun losing favour and suddenly deciding to take long holidays. "I- is this breakfast?" He asked in confusion.

"No, Harry, its dinner time." Hermione said slowly. She and Ron exchanged a look.

"But," Harry looked at the knife and fork in his hand. His plate was half eaten. He could even taste the casserole in his mouth. "I don't remember...I-"

"Mu-um," Ron called loudly, not taking his eyes off his friend, "something's wrong with Harry."


"Shh...shh...calm down Harry, it'll be fine-"

"There, just sit back now, there's a good lad-"

"Harry? Mate? What's going-?"

"Can someone tell me what's wrong with-!"

"Fetch-"


When Harry woke the clamour of voices had disappeared. He was staring at a yellowed ceiling. Soon he was staring at a lot of freckles and brown hair.

"Urgh! Ron! Hermione! Get out of my face!" Harry lifted a groggy hand and swatted at his two friends. When he had room to sit up, he did so. He was lying in his own bed, morning sunlight was streaming through the window, and his friends were watching him anxiously. He sighed. He hated that. "What happened?" He asked, more resigned than anything.

"We don't know mate." Ron answered first. "You just stopped eating all of a sudden and went rigid. You got this weird look on your face..."

"Then you started asking us where you were, and what had happened," Hermione picked up, "you were completely disorientated. Then you started panicking, and insisting that your name wasn't Harry, and Mrs Weasley kept trying to talk you out of it, but Sirius wasn't helping, and then Ginny started panicking, then Mr Weasley started yelling unhelpful advice about CPR, and you were just getting worse and hyperventilating, and you went white as a sheet-"

"-Then Professor Lupin ordered everyone to calm down, and they forced a Weight-Off-the-Shoulders potion down your throat, and you kind of calmed down, but you were all spaced out and just as confused, so they took you up here."

"Mrs Weasley and Remus got you settled in bed. Then Ron and I stayed here talking to you till you calmed down enough to sleep. You've been out all night." Hermione finished quietly. "Sirius sat up all night with you." She added.

That was, in Harry's opinion, the only nice piece of news about it all. He could remember suddenly being somewhere completely different, and then his head had started to hurt- really hurt – and everything had become horribly distorted, and everyone was speaking really slowly, his vision had started fading, and all he could think about was falling through the Veil and why couldn't he move his feet?

"Harry? Harry! Harry!"

Harry started back to find Hermione and Ron in his face again, waving their hands and patting his cheek. "Hello. Hello, I'm here." He said, instantly knowing what they were worrying about. "It's fine. I just, flash back, that's all." He looked down and plucked at the slightly moth eaten blue blanket spread over his knees. "Does anyone know what caused it?"

"We were hoping you could tell us mate." Ron replied. "Hermione thinks it was a panic attack, whatever that is."

"Magic-folk." Hermione huffed. "Honestly, you are so behind in the field of psychology and, in fact, science in general. Do you know," she said, rounding on Harry, "that their idea of mental health treatment is cheering charms and obliviation?"

Harry blanched. "That does sound rather, brutal." He admitted.

"Well if you can't remember the problem, what's to worry about?" Ron asked obliviously.

Harry had the sudden horrible feeling that he was about to do something which didn't have his full approval. "The reason I panicked," His mouth began abruptly, "was because one moment I'd just gotten out of the shower, next thing I know I'm eating dinner."

Ron and Hermione stopped and looked at him. "It's okay, Harry," Hermione said soothingly, "It's just the stress. You've been so wound up over Sirius, the Veil and sleep walking isn't the most restful sleep. In fact," she barrelled on, "the sleep walking and stress are linked I'm sure." She smiled at him. "Just, get some rest, real rest, no stress, worry, plans or guilt, then, when you want to, come talk to Ron or I."

"Yeah. You know we're always, err, here for you mate." Ron said awkwardly, his ears red.

"Um, cheers guys." Harry resolutely kept looking at his quilt.

"Does anyone know if the bath's safe yet?" Harry asked finally. The bathroom at Number Twelve held a rather handsome free standing bath on blackened silver dragon's feet. Rather disgustingly, when they cleaned the silver feet, they discovered they weren't tarnished metal after all, but instead grimy, very much real, preserved baby dragon feet. No one had told Charlie yet. Ginny had promptly stormed into a tearful tirade about how horrid it all was, and Sirius had laughed himself silly. But even then, the bath was a bit of a dubious place, after all it had tried to swallow Mrs Weasley, and frequently was found with the tap running and scummy water overflowing onto the floor.

Ron scratched his ear in thought, glad to move on from the emotional stuff. "I think so. They had Mad Eye look at it. He reckons as long as your wand's in reach, you should be fine."

This didn't cheer Harry at all. "I'm underage; I can't use my wand in the holidays."

"Then you'll just have to yell for us." Hermione replied. "Go on, a bath will do you good."

-0-

Harry paused outside his bedroom door, towel in hand. He thought Ron and Hermione would have learnt to wait longer after he'd left the room before discussing whatever it was they obviously wanted him out the way for. Or at least talk in quieter voices.

"I'm worried about him Ron." Hermione sighed.

"There's nothing we can really do though, is there?" Ron asked. Harry was surprised to hear him sound so mature. "Except hang around and be his friend."

"If he lets us." Hermione sighed again. "I just don't know what we've done wrong!" She exclaimed suddenly. "Half the time he's Harry, and the other half, it's, it's like he's someone else! He snubs us, hardly knows what we're going on about half the time, the acts more friendly with Remus than he does us for heaven's sake!"

"Maybe he's just stressed, like you said." Ron supplied. "You know how he retreats and goes all quiet and moody when he's stressing."

"Yeah." Harry had the distinct impression she was trying not to smile. "At least he's not totally withdrawn though. Maybe you're right, maybe he's just trying to connect with his parent's friends some more. You know how he's been trying to get to know Sirius more. And Ginny as well." She giggled. "Oh don't look like that Ron. Ginny's over the moon. And now what with Voldemort, and the Veil, and the Ministry playing up...I just don't know Ron, I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to Harry." She paused. "I couldn't live with myself if he was taken from me."

They were silent. Then Ron spoke in a forcedly cheery voice. "Hey, I'll know what will make you feel better...look Hermione, a book! The Magical Ministry and its Many Mysteries. Remus recommended it if we were trying to read up on the Veil-"

Harry suddenly found he'd eaves dropped enough, and hurried to take his bath. And for the last time, didn't they know his name was James? On the way, he bumped into a blushing Ginny, who made him wait whilst the fetched him some bath product.

"It'll help you relax." She said haltingly. "I use it. It's, nice."

"Um, thanks." Harry looked at the bottle bemusedly. "I'll make sure to use it then."

"Great." Ginny grinned, then caught herself and suppressed it to a smile. "Bye, Harry."

"Yeah, bye." Harry was left staring after her as she all but fled back to her room. What was that about? He suddenly had a horrid though that she'd stopped being angry at him for 'leading her on'. Did that meant she was going to try to flirt with him again? Was she going to try and kiss him again? He knew she had only done it to wind her brother up, but still... But he pushed it from his mind, and focused on the bathroom door. Right. He was going to show that bath who was boss. And he would relax. And everything would be great.