Harry lay still, trying to breathe evenly and blinking until he was completely sure he could actually see nothing on his right eye. His heart in his chest was racing with barely suppressed fear. He looked to his left, locating his mobile phone. He knew what to do. He had been told over and over what it meant when new symptoms arose, pointing towards a flare-up. And this was just what it was, wasn't it? He would be fine, he just needed to rest, maybe some medication, and it would disappear again. Wouldn't it?

When he reached for his phone his fingers trembled and he hit the speed dial for his physiotherapist just in time before his hands started to spasm in earnest. As he listened to the agonizing beep of the phone lying on the mattress next to him, his legs began cramping and he bit on his lips to prevent from crying out from pain. He fumbled for the phone, feverishly canceling the call. His physiotherapist was obviously not reachable. He dimly remembered her saying something about vacation and could have hit himself. He decided to call his neurologist, something he dreaded doing because it meant admitting he really had a problem, but he could not keep his rising panic at bay anymore. Harry had just managed to scroll down his contact list when his left hand sent the mobile phone flying with a sudden jerk. It landed somewhere on the floor, skittering over it before coming to a halt. He swore audibly, noticing his speech was off, too, and pushed himself up on his elbows to see if he could reach the small machine from his bed. A wave of nausea rolled over him and this time he actually vomited from his bedside all over the floor.

Harry collapsed onto his back, not even able to wipe away vomit at the corners of his mouth before the next spasm grabbed his whole body, pain exploding in yellow dots in front of his left eye. It felt like forever until it had died to a mere shudder rolling through his body and very carefully he inclined his head, panting, searching for his phone while blinking away the tears. His stomach sank. His phone lay meters away from the bed, close to one of the drawers, completely out of reach unless he managed to transfer to his wheelchair and this he considered out of option, too afraid to move a single hand because it could trigger new muscle contractions. Besides, the spasm had drained all energy from him and he could barely hold his eyes open. Before he could think of anything else, before he could grasp any clear thought, Harry fell asleep again.

Harry hovered on the edge of unconsciousness for the next hours. Several times his phone rang and once he thought he heard the doorbell, too. Everything sounded distant and he felt like wrapped in cotton wool. Twice he woke screaming, pain ripping through him. Then - he had lost all feeling of time - he heard voices and as he slowly forced his eyes to open, a blurred figure appeared in front of him. He squinted, trying to get the picture into focus, still there was only blackness on his right eye. It was Ron, bending over him, talking. What was Ron doing here? Wasn't he supposed to be at work? What time was it? Harry wanted to reach out, wanted to talk to Ron, wanted to tell him to leave… wanted him to stay. Ron's face disappeared, but instead other blurred forms appeared. People Harry did not recognize. They prodded him, he was lifted and everything started spinning once more. He closed his eyes although it did not help against the feeling.

Before it got dark around him, he caught a last glimpse of flaming red hair.

.

.

.

Waking up was a slow process, starting with sound coming in, distant and faded, then increasing. Harry did not open his eyes at first. His eyelids felt like lead, his whole body was like weighing down with a ton. When he opened his eyes, eventually, the first thing he realized with a jolt in his stomach was that his right eye was not blind anymore. The next thing dampened the euphoria again. He knew that smell, it had settled into his nose ages ago, and that sound of shuffling feet and beeping machines. He was in a hospital.

Most of the pain in his legs and trunk had seeped away, being replaced by the common tingling sensation. For once he felt grateful for it. His limbs had ceased jerking, his hands felt stiff and numb but at least that did not hurt. His head throbbed, but he knew that to be one of the side effects of the steroids that were slowly flowing from a transparent bag hanging over his head into the attached tube and into his veins. A nurse checked up on him, adjusted some of the machinery surrounding him. Soon after that, Harry fell asleep again.

When he woke up the next time he felt better. He tried to move and froze when someone spoke right next to him.

"Harry…"

He turned his head, room only spinning slightly.

"Remus…"

His voice was raspy and his throat felt like sandpaper. There was a glass of water next to the bed. Remus, sitting beside Harry's bed on a wooden chair, his battered coat draped over his knees, followed Harry's gaze and understood the wordless plea. He picked up the glass, pressing it into Harry's hand. Harry's arm felt oddly detached, he could barely feel his fingers wrapped around the glass. When he did not manage to lift it, only spilled some of the water in the process, Remus pried it from his fingers without a word and brought it to his lips. Scowling Harry drank what felt like water directly sent from heaven.

Remus smiled when he set aside the empty glass, which only made Harry's scowl deepen.

"You…" His voice was still hoarse.

"I'm sorry, Harry." Remus' eyes were locked with Harry's.

"No… listen," Harry began. Speaking was difficult. His tongue wrapped itself around every syllable as if testing something new and unknown. "I am sorry. I was hor… horrible to you." And he felt actually and truly sorry. He did not know what had changed, maybe the fact that he was lying in a hospital bed after the worst night he had had for months, probably years. Maybe the relief about being able to see properly again that still flooded his body with joy. Somehow all the rage, all the hot and nasty anger that had festered in him had disappeared and instead of the hollowness that it had left before, he felt… grateful. What Remus had done just did not seem to matter anymore. It probably never had, his childhood was gone long ago and Harry felt it was time to actually start over again.

Remus' smile reappeared. For a split second Harry saw the handsome man he had once been. "It's okay, Harry. I deserved that, maybe I even needed it. I made a lot of mistakes when I was young, the worst being that I did not look out for the offspring of my best friends. I am so sorry for that."

Harry nodded, slowly.

Remus tucked at something hanging around his neck. A small black ribbon which Harry had never noticed before, whatever was attached on it had always been hidden underneath Remus' sweater. Remus retrieved it, putting it into Harrys hand and helped him to bring it in front of his eyes.

"I want you to have a look at that." His voice was low.

Harry squinted at the small golden coin in his hand. Remus turned his hand a little until Harry could read what was written on it. Two capital letters.

"AA? You were an alcoholic?"

Remus flinched a little, something passing over his face. "I still am an alcoholic. You never stop being one." He took the coin back, tucking it under his sweater once more.

"H-How… how long… when…" Somehow the words got messed up even before they left Harry's mouth but Remus understood.

"I suppose I've always had the tendency to… turn to alcohol or something similar when things got tough. Lily was the one who finally convinced me to go to therapy. She even accompanied me to my first meeting…"

Remus smiled to himself as he said that. Harry was hanging on his lips, waiting for him to go on.

"James was very understanding, too, he managed to make me forget from time to time that all I really wanted was just to throw it all away and grab the next bottle that crossed my path. They were wonderful friends. Giving up drinking didn't feel so hard when they were around. And then…" Remus hand moved to his chest and Harry knew he was clutching the coin under his sweater. "From one day to the other they were gone. Just like that. And I kind of died that day, too. I don't remember much of the following year. I don't know if I started drinking again the same day or after the funeral or…" His shoulders trembled. Harry shifted his hand and Remus reached for it, covering it with his own, slim ones. They sat for a few minutes in silence before Remus continued.

"One year later I was close to being actually dead. And I wanted to die - I couldn't stand it any longer. Then… it passed. I don't know what happened. I just realized I couldn't disappoint your mother. She had always told me that I could make it. And I did. I got clean, I finished my PhD and I started working. I haven't touched a bottle since then but it had all taken a long time and I wasn't the same anymore. As soon as an employer found out about my past, I didn't hold my job for long. Ray is the first in several years who has offered me a decent position."

Harry couldn't help but smile at that. That sounded like Ray.

Remus squeezed his hand. "As soon as I was sober I started searching for you, I swear. But all they told me was that you were in the process of being adopted by someone. They didn't tell me the name of the family that took you in or where you lived. I thought of a lawsuit to get you but I was told that my chances of having any success would be slim considering my past... I was devastated… but there was nothing I could do, I honestly tried everything I could. In the end I clang to the thought that you were probably being raised by some nice family, happy, without me. I fear I could not have been more wrong."

Harry's smile turned into a grimace at that. "Hm… you say it."

"I'm sorry, Harry." Remus' eyes were shining.

Harry swallowed, trying to push through the memories from his past that were starting to suffocate him again. "I am too, R… Remus. But it's not your fault."

"So… you believe me?" Remus sounded unsure if he could trust the peace.

"I do." And Harry did. What Remus had said made sense and although Harry had difficulties to accept that there had been someone searching for him all this time, some connection to his long lost parents, he sensed that Remus was telling the truth.

Remus smiled at that and moved his warm hand to Harry's head, gently smoothing his hair. "You know that James roughed up his hair purposely to make him seem more… daring? At least I believe that was what he wanted to achieve."

Harry chuckled slightly, realizing as he did, that all energy had started to drain out of his body once more and his eyelids were drooping against his will. "You have to tell me more about… my father," he slurred, not sure if Remus could make out a word. When Harry's eyes closed and he slowly but steadily drifted towards sleep, he heard Remus speak, at last.

"I hope we will have a lot of time to talk about all sorts of things."