The first few breaths in were difficult, Harry had become accustomed to the struggle to breathe recently, given how often he'd been subjected to situations that caused such in the past few days. He let a big gulp into through his mouth, it felt as though a lead weight weighed on his chest, forcing the air out of him with each breath, encouraging him to breathe as heavily as he could, his lungs ached in protest at the plentiful supply of oxygen that restored their capacity, but it dulled down in favour of the aching sensation of every other part of his body.
There were curtains all around him, heavy sheets that obfuscated the sunlight and judging by the few lances that pierced the white shroud, it was indeed daytime. He tried to prop himself up in bed but a searing pain raced through his chest, he peered down towards himself to identify what exactly caused the pain.
He'd awoken hoping it was all a dream, a mirage brought about by misunderstanding one of the implications of Dumbledore's spells. That everything he'd remembered seeing, everything that happened was all a lie, it wasn't. One cursory glance at his exposed chest was enough for him to come crashing back to earth.
His chest was marred with a large scar, it looked fairly healed but still was a dark purple, as if extremely cold. But that wasn't necessarily the most disconcerting thing, he was nude save for his jocks and symbols were carved into his body as if he was a piece of parchment, they pained him with each slight movement of his body, he debated trying to call out for some pain relief, a potion, a salve, anything. But in the end he resolved to simply lay there, breathing through the intense burning, until it calmed.
He lifted his right arm, some of the scar tissue carried onto it, just before the apex of his shoulder although it hurt far less than his chest. The bone creaked like a door lacking oil, cracking and popping as he maneuvered it to gently trace the scar that ran along him, rubbing it to and fro tentatively, as though if a harder touch would burst the seal, reigniting the pain he just felt.
Fighting the pain in his chest, he propelled himself backward with a weak push, flopping unceremoniously against the pillow that was under his head. The pain was too intense for a second, relegating him to heavy breathing while the white-hot knives of suffering retreated back to their sheaths.
His throat was painful, terribly so. It likely hadn't had water in however long he'd been in the bed, he searching around trying to find it and located it on the table adjacent to the bed His wand laid just out of reach, he wanted it, needed it. He leant over the bed, paining his chest again, trying to grasp the shaft, the holly tickled his fingers, rolling ever so away to evade his grasp. It rolled in an arc, the handle hanging off the edge, it teetered for a moment, if unsure if it should fall. Harry stretched his arm a little further and the wand gave a jiggle, as if to leap into his grasp, for a moment it seemed possible. Until it fell to the ground with a clatter that reverberated in the silent Hospital Wing.
The clattering noise seemed to alert someone in the wing, for it immediately prompted footsteps across the ward. They came closer and closer before the curtains split, allowing a harsh ray of sunlight to peer through the gap, the stern countenance of Madam Pomfrey followed afterwards, giving some relief from the unforgiving beams.
"Mister Potter?" She said shocked, "How long have you been awake?" The look on her face was as if she hadn't expected anything, even as a veteran Matron of Hogwarts, it was if she couldn't comprehend he was awake.
"Too long.." He tried, it was meant to be joking, a brief moment of levity while he sorted out his head, but it came out raspy, hoarse, the noise grated the insides of his throat as it left and he had the feeling that it had a similar effect on her ears. She frowned gently and took out her wand.
"Prepare yourself Mister Potter, this shall be uncomfortable." She warned. She waved it in elegant arcs, to and fro, and an ethereal green barrier shimmered into existence with her strokes. Every swish of the wand made the colour of the barrier lighter, though there was yet to be any displeasure. Soon the barrier faded to just out of Harry's sight, which without his glasses wasn't entirely too hard.
Then he felt heat, there was no gradual build up, no warning signs, just pure unadulerated heat. It prickled at his skin like he was far too close to a fire for comfort. It overpowered him for the briefest of moments before the feeling simply vanished into the air, sizzling as whatever sort of energy it was made contact with the walls, starting some form of elemental turmoil before all fell quiet though the air was still heated.
"Not pleasant?" Madam Pomfrey japed, breaking from her perpetual stern tone, if Harry hadn't known any better he'd say she was happy to see him awake.
"Not entirely." Harry admitted with a brief grimace at the feeling of air leaving his throat. However pleased Madam Pomfrey was at seeing him awake was overridden by her innate senses as a matron, with a flick of her wand a silver tray floated gently across the room, laden with vials and flasks of varying liquids. They soon found a home in his hands and after a short, piercing glare, found another in his stomach. Thick, viscous liquid coated his throat like ice cold mucus, but it did make talking a slight bit easier.
"What happened to me?" Harry asked, the events were clear in his head. But he'd hardly noticed the wound on his chest that night, nor anything else that may have occurred before or after the fact.
"To be honest Mister Potter, I'd hoped you would possess the knowledge of what exactly led you here." She said, a slight frown forming on her face.
"So you don't know?" Harry asked bluntly, if the resident matron whom Harry had never seen fail to diagnose or treat someone adequately didn't know, the outcome didn't seem great.
Her frown worsened. "Not exactly, a myriad of curses riddled your body only Professors Dumbledore and Snape know exactly what happened, though they neglected to share such with me." She said somewhat sourly, "The list was far too extensive for comfort, you shouldn't have woken for some time."
Harry made to speak, but was quickly cut off.
"In fact, the Headmaster wished to know immediately." Another flick of her wand and a silver wisp shot from her wand, coalescing gracefully into a small animal. Harry couldn't really see but it looked like a bear, a small one but he couldn't really tell. She knelt next to the silver beast and seemed to whisper something in its ear before it bounded off gracefully out of the Hospital Wing.
"How does your arm feel Mister Potter?" The Matron questioned. He rolled his shoulder, the joint creaking as he revolved it in a gentle arc. Once his shoulder reached the apex of his test, the skin of his chest pulled taut, it didn't feel painful per se, more weird, like something was grasping either side of the wound and trying to pull it closed at the provocation of moving. Given how painful it was before he had the potions, he deduced he must've swallowed some form of pain relief amongst the wave of medicinal draughts.
"Fine, a bit sore." He offered.
"Good." She said, "Be gentle, Mister Potter, lest the wound reopen." She warned. "I'll send you along with some salve and pain relief."
"You're discharging me?" Harry asked skeptically, he'd never known her to let him out of the wing without a lengthy stay.
"Not by my own volition." She admitted, "The Headmaster shall deem whether or not you're fit to leave."
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey." Harry said sincerely, propping himself into a more comfortable position on the headboard.
"It's my duty Mister Potter." She said although a slight smile flashed on her face before disappearing. "If I may, Mister Potter?" It was phrased as a polite question but her face made it clear she'd say whatever she'd want without his consent, a quick nod of his head obliged her request.
"The times you've been in this ward are too numerous to count Harry, but this time was serious. Take all the bludgers you want, but you're not invulnerable. If you keep going like this, it'll only ever lead to one destination" She cautioned, looking grim.
It's likely I'll end up there anyways.
It was a grim thought, but given the circumstances and his condition it was one that taunted him from the forefront of his mind, but if only to placate the older witch, he gave her a nod of affirmation on her words. She returned the gesture with a slightly calmer smile.
"I'll be in my office if you need anything, the Headmaster should be here shortly." She said before walking back to her office, her shoes clacking against the stones in the same fashion as when she walked over. It was oddly comforting in a way Harry couldn't describe, as if the subtleties of the noise of her shoes was too complex to be a conventional dream, that for the moment at least, it was all okay.
A surprisingly short amount of time later, the Headmaster made his way into the Hospital Wing. The usually sage look on the Headmaster's wizened countenance was struck from his face, instead remained a volatile mixture of emotions, relief, guilt, pain and a plethora of others Harry couldn't decipher flutter across his features upon seeing Harry awake.
"Harry, my boy." He said in a voice that made his final syllables somewhat shaky. "It's so very good to see you returned to us."
"It's good to be here too Professor." Harry said sincerely although his tone was slightly joking if only to ease the almost tangible tension within the room.
"I'm so very sorry you were subjected to the dangers of the Horcrux, especially at my direction." He said, looking at Harry although refusing to make solid eye contact.
"I'm fine Professor." Harry assured, "But.. What happened to me?" His curiosity had gotten the better of him, despite his previous fear at what may have happened.
Dumbledore silently walked over and grabbed the chair from beside his bed, beneath it laid Harry's wand that had fallen off the table some time ago, that he'd all but forgotten about until it was disturbed by the chair, rolling across the floor again. Dumbledore slowly reached down and plucked the shaft from the floor, rising back to his full height he offered the shaft to Harry.
Harry reached for the proffered shaft, it wiggled in the Headmaster's hand as Harry reached forward to grasp the shaft it crossed the few inches between their hands and deposited itself firmly in Harry's grip. A brief look of shock crossed the Headmaster face at the feat, Harry couldn't quite understand what had happened, the tip seemed to flicker an almost translucent white for the briefest of moments before it died out. If the Headmaster was perturbed by what had happened he did an excellent job at masking it, he continued his task and dragged the chair next to Harry's bed. Harry thought to ask of it, but that desire warred against his need to know what happened, he stayed on his main path, for now.
"I must admit," The old man began, "Your appearance at the Hospital Wing can be very well be attributed to my hubris on the matter. I needed to understand your connection to Voldemort and you needed to face the Horcrux alone, partially because of my declining health but mostly, for the experience. There will be no second chances when dealing in the darkness you may encounter during the war."
Harry shifted his body so that he was staring directly at the Headmaster intently.
"Although," He continued, "Your reaction to the Horcrux possessed a level of volatility that I had not projected, your very presence and the intuitive nature of the Horcrux in conjunction with the magical saturation of the room culminated into something far worse than it had any right to be."
"So why was I unconscious for so long." Harry asked, the words left his lips before he could think of them. He needed to know, though he dreaded it far more.
"Your reaction to the Horcrux too, was far beyond comprehension although by virtue of your experiences, you were saved from a fate forse than death. Instead, you were forced into an imposed sojourn into your own mind, we were forced to cover your bodies with runes to negate the energy you bled off."
"But I'm fine now?"
"You're awake, that's more than we expected for some time. " He offered.
"Did we destroy it?" Harry asked, "Did I do it?" He needed to know it wasn't all an effort made in vain.
"Yes." He confirmed to ease Harry's bated breath. "Quite a bit of the Room of Requirement too, I must ask, what spell did you use?"
"One of yours, Caelesti Perfuro."
A small frown crossed the Professor's face. "I would caution you against using the spell again if you can help it Harry."
"Because of the warning in the book?" He asked.
"Yes, although I'm afraid it doesn't exactly specify the exact implications of such a spell. Power of such volume is addictive and to become addicted to spells is dangerous in itself. But worst of all, as I'm sure you know, the spell requires a memory to function, not unlike the Patronus Charm. Though unlike the Patronus Charm, the memory that you use is weakened, the joy you once felt is irrevocably dampened, if you continue you, that memory will cease to be joyful, only a shell of what it once was." He cautioned grimly.
Harry merely nodded in return.
"Very well." He started, "Now would be an opportune moment to tell you that I shall be predisposed on the continent for the duration of the Christmas Holidays."
"You're leaving?" Harry said aghast.
"Alas, not for long. There is someone I must see." He admitted.
"Do you not think Hogwarts will be attacked?" Harry asked.
"No, for all his power, Voldemort is smart enough to know he's outmatched for now." Dumbledore assured.
"When are you coming back?" Harry asked. Despite his magic deteriorating, he was still the only thing that Voldemort feared, if he was away from too long or if Voldemort found out, it could be catastrophic.
"You needn't worry Harry, I shall return in good time."
"What of our lessons?"
"They shall conclude for the moment. I have passed on all that's prudent to go forward, but there shall be one more, our tale has not yet finished weaving."
"So it's goodbye?" Harry asked painfully, hopeful that he would see the man again.
"For the moment, but not for long. I best be getting along, I've no doubt Miss Delacour will be along to see you shortly."
"She's still here?" Harry asked, if his math was correct, which he assumed it was, it was well past the time for everyone to depart from Hogwarts for Christmas.
"Indeed," The older man confirmed with a wry smile, "She remained by your side the majority of your stay here, so did Mister Weasley and Miss Granger until they left."
"Do you know why she stayed?" Harry asked, he had the ideal answer in his mind.
"I'm not entirely sure. But Harry, would you allow an old man to impart some prudent advice?"
"Of course."
"It's a truly egregious sin to live your life with regrets, you'd be better off taking every chance you have." He advised.
"What do you mean sir?" Harry asked, confused. He had a fairly good feeling he knew what the Professor was saying however, although it was odd advice given the situation.
"Nothing, my boy, merely food for thought." He said, brushing off his robes and standing up. "Well Harry, I bid you adieu for the moment, I shall make my return with all due haste and I wish you a truly merry Christmas."
The Headmaster shot him a final look, it looked almost guilty before the man walked towards the exit, Harry hoped desperately it wouldn't be the last time he saw him. He settled back into the pillow and once again, he was left alone in silence, where his grim thoughts reigned supreme.
A much shorter time later, the Hospital Wing door was thrown open and an aggressive clacking noise made their way towards him while he attempted to rub salve onto his chest. Soon the curtains were tossed asunder and beyond, stood Fleur Delacour.
He found himself momentarily short of breath. She looked fairly dishevelled, her usually elegant hair was ruffled and her beautiful visage was marred by bags under her eyes. She'd probably throw a fit if she saw herself in this state, but somehow it endeared her beauty to Harry more, as if the imperfections served to amplify the perfections they were trying to obscure.
There was a brief moment of silence between the pair as ocean blue met emerald green. It felt like eternity but was only a few seconds, if that. Without warning, she bounded across the short distance and threw her arms around him. The way he was positioned meant her face was nuzzled into his neck in the embrace, he wrapped his good arm around her back and pulled her that little bit tighter, likely more than what was strictly appropriate with an engaged woman, but Harry found he cared little.
Soon, they seperated and Harry lamented the loss of contact.
"I can't believe you're awake." She said in disbelief, "They told me you wouldn't wake for some time."
"I didn't like the solitude." He joked, she flashed a little smile before her face went serious.
"Is this what I have to expect if you go off on this hunt by yourself? That you'll be living hospital bed to hospital bed?"
"You know I didn't want or mean to end up here." He defended.
"Do you ever intend to end up hurt?"
"Not strictly speaking, no."
"I waited near a week by your bedside, not knowing if you'd make another night. I've joined the Order and I'm coming with you." She said with resolve. There was so much in her sentence that Harry had to take a moment to cipher through everything she said.
"You joined the Order? Why now of all times?" He asked confused.
"Because I'm sick of doing nothing. So now we're going together."
"Are we now?" He joked.
"Yep." She chirped back, almost bird-like.
"Don't I get a say in this?"
"No."
Harry chose wisely to acquiesce in order to refrain from rehashing a conversation they'd so recently had, he also didn't want to offend her by insinuating she wasn't capable enough. The incident had given him some perspective, enough to know that her help would be invaluable.
"So it's us versus the world?" He joked.
"It's beginning to seem that way." She returned.
The tension that had been apparent over his injury thawed, it was all back to normal, or at least as normal as it could be for now. They locked eyes again and Harry's heart ached ever so slightly that soon, they'd return to the Burrow and he'd be left in a precarious situation, although one of the heart and not so much the war.
He broke contact, as much as he desired the ocean blue it felt almost unbearable, to have what he desired so close but remained forever out of reach. He found himself engrossed in laying the salve over the scar tissue of his chest. Sadly, however, with the way the scar ran upwards he couldn't crane his neck adequately to apply the viscous paste, he probed gently around the tender area as Fleur watched on, amused.
"Give it here." She offered, snatching the glass jar from his hands before he could argue, she scooped out a generous amount with two fingers and began to slather it on the discoloured scar. Her gentle fingers ran to and fro and the affected area, leaving a gentle layer of paste behind. It seemed chaste, he didn't know if it was intentional or just his overanalysis of the situation but it always seemed to make him believe that their relationship was more than purely platonic, her hands lingered for a moment too long, their eyes made tentative contact throughout and once she was finished, her open hand merely rested above his heart for a brief moment before she drew it away.
The way she was perched over him and the work with her hands elicited a reaction within him he would've very much liked to hide. He was thankful for the thin sheet that covered his lower body, though if she noticed exactly what she had caused, she hadn't drawn any attention to it, thankfully. She merely lowered herself down from the bed.
"How long until you're free to go?" She questioned, although her cheeks seemed to carry the slightest of red twinges.
"I'm not sure," He said, glancing through the gap in the curtain to see if Madam Pomfrey was present. "Professor Dumbledore was meant to check on me, but he left quickly."
"Should I get Madam Pomfrey?" She asked.
"Nah," He assured her, "I should be alright, not the first time I've snuck out of here."
He shifted his legs over the side of the bed, he momentarily forgot he was only in his underwear, covered in runes. He reached for his wand and tapped the sheet of the bed, transfiguring it into a robe decent enough to last him to wherever he went next. He draped it over his shoulders and made to step onto the ground.
It was an oddly daunting prospect, walking after being in bed for so long. The distance to the ground seemed far greater than it had any right to although it wasn't a feeling he hadn't dealt with before. His feet hit the cold floor beneath him, and he stood tall.
The salve did much to stamp out the discomfort in his chest but as for the rest of his body, it did little. The runes prickled with pain as his legs took the weight of his body for the first time in a long while, he took a tentative first step with all the grace of a toddler, the second was more refined and the third was normal.
He peered out of the curtains, the coast was clear for the moment, gesturing Fleur to follow him, he slipped out of the cordoned off area and made for the door quietly with her in tow. Soon enough, they slipped the door open and squeezed through the small gap.
Hogwarts was as he remembered, the morning light shone through the windows in a way that only the Castle could produce. It felt warm, a welcome change from the perpetual coldness he'd been feeling recently.
It was his turn to follow her, she led him through the halls until they arrived at a familiar destination - Professor McGonagall's Office.. His trunk was already at the Burrow and it was now their turn to follow suit and arrive too. There was the briefest moment of hesitation, he could stay at Hogwarts, feign he wasn't feeling well. It'd hurt the Weasleys but he wondered if that'd be preferable to seeing Bill and Fleur together. He'd dreaded the arrival of the eldest Weasley since Ginny told him, though up until now it had always seemed peripheral, he hadn't seen them together so their relationship was inherently incomprehensible to Harry, as if it didn't exist because he hadn't seen it. It was childish, to cause pain because he himself was being hurt. The turmoil raged within him for only the briefest of moments, before he made a decision. It would be best to accept the truth before him, he'd do something about it, he resolved, he'd try like Dumbledore had told him.
He went grasped the ornate urn off the fireplace and poured a generous amount of the glittery green powder into his hands.
"The Burrow." He spoke clearly, tossing the handful of powder into the already raging flames. They flickered and turned a deep emerald, he walked confidently into the tall fireplace. Within the shortest of moments he was sucked through the chimney and into the floo network. He closed his eyes as colours flashed beyond his eyelids and the air shot past his ears.
For the briefest of moments when Harry stepped out of the Floo, he had hope.
Fleur stood there, radiating all the signs of someone annoyed. Her arms were crossed and her eyes narrowed. Bill was leading the vanguard of the Weasleys awaiting their arrival at the fireplace, a cocky smirk across his features. There was tension, Harry could sense it and he felt terrible for hoping to capitalize on it. But the tension abated and the two met in the middle with a hug, not the outlandish head over heels kiss that he expected, but enough to make him feel as though the air had been punched out of his lungs.
He hadn't much time to ponder where it had gone wrong, for he was met with an embrace of his own. A brown-haired form hit him in the chest, it didn't possess enough force to stagger him but enough to shoot a flare of white hot pain through his chest, courtesy of the provoked scar tissue and runes. Harry, however, did not have the heart to dishearten Hermione.
"I'm okay." He whispered in her ear to assure her, wrapping his good arm around her shoulder. She pulled away and Harry exchanged a wide smile with her, she shuffled out of the way to make way for the next in 'line'.
Ron shuffled forward, their gesture didn't last nearly as long as Hermione's, a quick hug and a short pat on the back, careful not to disturb the sensitive skin.
"You alright mate?" He asked, concern lacing his voice although in a way as if he was unsure how to aptly express it.
"I feel as good as I look." Harry joked, it wasn't his words that placated him, but the joke. Ron for all his teaspoon sized emotional depth, was at the very least able to sense when Harry was being insincere, although he was thoroughly sure he was fine this time.
"Guess we'll have to send you back to Saint Mungo's then?" He japed in return, a brief smile between the pair followed and the next few came forward.
Ginny gave him a short embrace and the pair exchanged pleasantries, followed by the overly exhilarated forms of the Weasley twins, who animatedly shook his hand and congratulated him on another lengthy stay in the Hospital Wing, one that earned them a scolding glare from Mrs Weasleys, who was next to wrap Harry in a bone crushing hug, followed by a handshake from Mister Weasley and the promise that they'd have to share some interesting new contraptions he'd reverse engineered and then finally, the one he'd been dreading.
Bill stood before him, Harry really didn't bother getting a good look at him that day in Gringotts, it felt like an eternity ago but now was a sufficient opportunity to size the man up.
He was tall, almost a head taller than Harry, although he was used to being shorter than most. A scar ran along his jawline, down his chin. He looked good natured, the same grin sitting on his face as when they arrived. It wasn't a hostile look, but Harry had to try hard to settle his own emotions, he hid his contempt of the man he'd never really met under the veneer of civility of friendship.
"Good to see you again Harry." The redhead said, extending his hand.
"Likewise." He replied tersely, grasping his hand and giving it a solid shake.
With the final shake of his hand, the haphazard reunion was finished and Harry was released into the confines of the Burrow as everyone dispersed to do what they had presumably done prior to their arrival.
He made his way further into the lounge room. The Weasley's tall Christmas tree rose into the high ceiling of the Burrow. Adorned with a variety of bauble and ornaments that lit the room brightly, some displayed each of the Weasley Children, others merely whistled a festive tune at sporadic intervals, it's thick branches danced to a tune, it wasn't the prettiest of sights but it was far from garrish. In some ways, it was reminiscent of the Weasleys, it was a little unrefined but it was colourful, a display of care, adorned with family members and surrounded by presents.
He joined Ron in the corner for a game of Wizards Chess, if nothing else it was a meaningless distraction that would take his mind away from everything that was happening around him. They set the board up and within the first few moves, Ron's superior game sense had maneuvered him into a superior position. If it wasn't already a futile endeavour battling Ron in chess, he could make out the faint noise of Fleur and Bill's conversation, between that and his already inferior skills, Ron made short work of him.
They set the board up for another game and had begun in earnest, or at least earnest for Ron, for Harry it was more akin to prevarication. He started this round in a much better position, although still nowhere near Ron.
"Take his Pawn, the leftmost one." A voice whispered behind him, coaching him. It was an almost tantalizing whisper from Fleur. She began to offer prudent advice to Harry, telling him where to move and what to take. It developed an ebb and flow that saw Harry almost tie with Ron, but his close game mattered little to him, he played the game only to hear the whisper, to send the pleasurable shiver down his spine. The game finished too quickly for Harry, her coaching was both a blessing and a curse, but soon she returned to the lounge and Harry feigned tiredness, he set up the stairs to Ron's room.
The Ghoul in the attic beat a sorrowful tune on the pipes above, or atleast, as sorrowful as the banging of metal could be.
Christmas Day rolled around with all the decorum of a brick wall, the Weasley Household bustled with an energy more befitting of a rowdy pub instead of a wizarding family. Shouting rang through the walls and the smell of an early breakfast wafted up the tall stairs, filling the house with a delicious aroma.
Ron slipped on a pair of worn slippers once the smell of food awoke him from his loud slumber, he tore down the steps at a speed rivalling any decent racing broom. Whoever was left asleep was surely woken up by his furious pounding down the wooden steps.
Harry followed him down, carting his hastily wrapped presents in his arms. He planned to wrap them before he left Hogwarts but that plan was clearly struck asunder. With a quick hand from Mrs Weasley, they wrapped them quickly, not the prettiest affair but for a decoration that was going to be torn off, it would do.
He descended to the lounge room where everyone was assembled around the tree, here he was forced to raise the facade that everything was pleasant. Bill and Fleur sat on the worn lounge, their legs touching, that was enough to sour Christmas morning for him.
"Merry Christmas." Harry announced, forcing himself to sound cheery from the bottom of the stairs. He was met with a resounding echo of pleasantries, he took a seat on the floor next to Hermione, the entirety of the Weasley Clan was present, sans Charlie and Percy and the room was packed to brim, almost bursting at the seams, he was thoroughly sandwiched between Hermione and Fred.
Then, the sudden exchange of gifts began.
From Mr and Mrs Weasley and surprisingly Ginny, he received the annual sweater, the same maroon and gold as last year, although a fair bit bigger than last year and this time had an animated snitch that flew around the midsection. Ginny got a broom polishing kit and Mrs Weasley, a new skillet he found in Hogsmeade, Mr Weasley received a plethora of ballpoint pens he stole from the cupboard at Privet Drive with that exact intent.
Hermione came next, a wand care kit found its way into his hand after she cited that "Broom Polish was no way to take care of a wand." He had gifted her various disquisitions about different axioms of wizarding theory, it was too convoluted and specific for Harry to even make it through the first page, but Fleur assured him it'd be an interesting read and Harry thought if anyone was going to get use out if it, it'd be Hermione.
Ron followed, from Harry he received the Terror Transceiver and a Chudley Cannons jersey of his new favourite player, Number 3, Bailey. In return, he got the various weird sweets, Liquorice Locust, Fajita Frogs and myriad other novel foods. Ron seemed thoroughly pleased with his present, swinging the jersey over his head without a second thought.
Fred and George gave him a plethora of experimental products that he was assured that he'd have quite a bit of fun with, in return he offered to endorse a few of their products for them and pay for some adverts. He was unsure what to get the pair, considering their only real passion in life was the creation of jokes, given the fact that he was sure they'd need a fair bit of happiness in the near future, he gladly supported it.
He hadn't bought anything for Bill, given the fact he didn't know he was coming and didn't really want to, but the man seemed to understand.
But the main event had arrived, Fleur's gift. He chose to open hers before she opened his, he tore carefully at the wrapping paper and pulled the present from within. It was an ornate frame, burnished wood that smelt of lavender. Within the frame was an animated photo, from one of Slughorn's parties, they both had a drink in their hand and they laughed goodnaturedly before she rested her head on his shoulder. It was a sweet gift but Harry spent less time appreciating the piece than it deserved, instead trying to decipher whether or not it meant something more.
"Thank you." He said gratefully, his voice thick.
"It took forever to find someone to take a picture that wasn't already drunk." She joked.
It was her turn now, the gift he'd put so much time into. Sending letters to Gabrielle and her mother. It took quite a bit of money and time to procure, he hoped she liked it. She tore the paper open with the same vigilance that he showed. She pulled it from within it's paper confines and gave it a careful look.
It was a book or more aptly, a journal. On its face was a painting, like the picture it was also animated, although the front wasn't of them together, it was of her and Gabrielle. She often reminisced about how she and her sister spent time under the willow tree in their yard when in private, the painting saw Fleur pushing Gabrielle on a swing the pair made. Gabrielle provided the memory and her mother helped him find a man in Lyon to paint and charm the journal, the backside was Harry and her, the first time he won a duel, they laid sprawled out, their heads side-by-side.
Though the contents of the book was something else too, he transcribed some elements from Dumbledore's book, and wrote them down in the book, he tested them and wrote down their effects. Most of the time was spent trying to make his quillmanship neat enough to read, and by judging her reaction, it was all worth it. It would've been far more expensive gift then hers, but he cherished hers all the same, but his was as much as gesture of the festivities as it was a personification of his feelings, hoping she would find it's hidden meaning among its pages.
"How?" She asked, she seemed short of breath.
"Gabrielle helped, she gave me the memory of the Willow Tree, your mother helped me find the artist."
"What did Gabrielle make you do for it?" She asked.
"Not much, but I've been commanded to come to France in the near future." He joked.
"Thank you." She said, giving him a watery smile, he returned the smile with equal force. To him it was only the pair of them in the room, she crossed the short distance and embraced him tightly, before taking her seat next to Bill, showing him the present.
The gift giving ceremony had concluded, they all retreated to the outside patio to eat their breakfast. The picnic table was filled, so more were conjured, the soon became filled with boisterous laughter and the clanking of silverware. Fred and George had brought balls of confetti that danced around and formed into dragons, Mrs Weasley had sourced enormous crackers that spilled out various magical novelties, glasses that gave the wearing a bushy moustache or made their ears huge.
They'd gotten a fair way through their meal before a green flash from inside drew everyone's attention to inside the house. Mr Weasley went inside, his wand drawn to discern the source. A few moments later he returned with another figure.
"Charlie!" Ron called out, rushing to give his brother a hug. Soon all the assembled Weasleys were up and giving their brother a hug. He was tall, a bit taller than Bill, but he looked much worse. One side of his face, just behind his temple, stretching down his neck was discoloured, leathery as if burnt. His red hair was short, barely making its way off of his scalp.
Harry came over to meet the man, he'd never met Charlie before, the only Weasley with that distinction now.
"Harry Potter." The man announced in a jovial tone, "I've heard a lot about you." He made to shake his hand, until Bill his hand was calloused beyond the point of any return, it felt like he was shaking a concrete block, or even Hagrid's hand.
"I wouldn't believe anything Ron said." Harry said jokingly.
"He said you were a good mate and a bloody good wizard." Charlie responded, equally as jokingly.
"Believe it all then, the most trustworthy bloke you've ever seen." Harry amended, the joking was a brief moment of happiness that he didn't have to force, which had become a rare occurrence this Christmas, they returned back to the table.
Harry found he quite liked Charlie, the second eldest Weasley liked to joke, much like the twins. He regaled them with a variety of funny tales about his work in Romania, the majority saw his mother scold him, but he took it in his stride.
Soon breakfast finished and everyone returned to the House. Harry retreated to Ron's room, trying to pass the part of Christmas Day that was always boring. He laid down in his bed and soon Ron came into the room.
He didn't say much, he was worried about something, but he took the same position as Harry on his own bed, looking intently at the beams that crossed the room.
"Harry?" Ron asked after a short while, he sounded nervous.
"Yeah mate?"
"Do you…" He paused for a moment as if to think about something, "Do you think the Chudley Cannons are really that bad?"
Harry let out a loud chuckle. "You're terrible at hiding your emotions mate, you know that, yeah?"
"No clue what you mean mate." He mumbled.
"What's eating you mate?' Harry asked, turning onto his side to look at Ron.
"Nothing. Just.." He paused again, as if struggling to regain his confidence. "Do you really think Hermione could like me?"
"Of Course she does mate." He assured him, "Just ask her."
"No thanks." He let out a forced chuckle.
"You'll never know how deep it is until you leap." Harry gave the sage advice, he just wished he had the confidence to follow it himself.
"How should I do it?"
"I'm not sure mate, I'll be honest with you and say I've never personally asked out Hermione."
"You don't say?" He shot back sarcastically. "Seriously mate, I need something."
"I don't really know Ron. Why not ask Bill or Charlie?"
"Definitely not." He said with an air of finality, "What about mistletoe?"
"That'd be a no, Hermione won't like being taken advantage of because of a plant."
"Then what?" Ron asked frustrated, tossing his pillow about.
"Why not try after dinner, I don't know, plan a walk in the garden or something, tell her how you feel." He tried.
Ron seemed to ponder for a moment. "Brilliant mate, bloody brilliant." He exclaimed, "You know for a bloke who's only girlfriend was a disaster, you're pretty flashy with this romance business."
"So the Apprentice becomes the Master." He joked, though he could clearly see the effect of his words on Ron, his words clearly abated the tension that had been building up within his body, he let out a loud sigh of relief and laid on his pillow, a smile of relief showing on his face.
Harry sorely wished he had someone similar, someone to assure him that Fleur felt the same. He wished that he could follow his own advice and wished he could just say how he felt, Or even let Ron know he knew how he felt.
"Hey Ron?"
"Yeah mate?"
"Just for the record and all, I really do think the Chudley Cannons are that bad." He joked, that made Ron let out a little chuckle.
"I know mate, I know. It's not my fault you're too daft to see it."
"That's us isn't it mate? A pair of daft blokes." Harry shot back.
"Trust me mate, you've absolutely no idea."
"I've got some idea." Harry responded jokingly.
They returned their gaze back to the roof, the beams offered little comfort, but there was no harm in trying.
Dinner soon came and the Weasley Household was back in full force, the middle section of the day passed quickly and now they were thoroughly in the enjoyable part of the evening.
The Dinner Table was brought outside and it was alive with chatter, the Twins charmed the turkey to dance an Irish Jig and evade capture, even the Ghoul in the attic beat a loud tune on the pipes, the Christmas tree sung loudly, the Burrow was very much in the spirit of Christmas. Ginny and Ron were playing a tentative game of exploding snap that had torn through the table one too many times, they played it quietly to avoid Mrs Weasley's careful gaze.
Bill and Fleur sat together, Fleur laughing softly at something Charlie said as the scarred Weasley seemed to be telling another tale of the Dragon Fleur had charmed in the tournament.
They'd dug into the well cooked food, but it wouldn't be a Christmas with Harry Potter if it wasn't ripe with interruptions. A silver lynx barreled through the house and over the dining table.
"Arthur, bring Bill and report to Headquarters." The voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt sounded out before the heavenly feline dissipated into thin air. That seemed to sedate the table a fair amount, Bill and Mr Weasley seemed to mutter some hasty goodbyes, they made for the floo and Charlie took off after them, offering to help.
The element of the christmas spirit that had possessed the Burrow had fallen silent, chatter turned to mutters as the festivities were forgotten in favour of the acknowledgement that there was still a war going on.
Harry felt guilt rise within him, he'd been wishing Bill gone the whole time he'd been at the Burrow, now he was gone, off to help the Order while he remained at the house. He didn't even feel the anger at the redhead anymore, he felt like a coward.
It all seemed bleak now, the Moon, the Burrow, all of it. The Twins tried valiantly to return the festive mood that had once reigned supreme, but the sombreness lorded it's dominion over most of the people present at the table. Mrs Weasley seemed disinterested in her own cooking now, Hermione had forgone eating entirely, Ron continued to eat, though he doubted anything could break Ron from food, although he did look worried. Ginny skewered her potatoes with her fork, her fist wrapped tightly around the stem of the fork.
"Will they be okay?" Hermione asked gently, as if scared of disturbing the uneasy equilibrium that was the silence of the table, as if her words could shift the balance from silence to panic.
No one was sure how to answer, Harry was going to try and contribute something but Fleur beat him to it.
"They'll be fine, I'm not worried." She announced, though it appears her words didn't have the effect she intended. Molly looked aghast, and Ginny tightened her grip on the fork as she stabbed down at her food in another violent ark, her knuckles whitening with the force.
"Excuse me?" Ginny asked dangerously.
"Bill's a talented cursebreaker, Charlie, a Dragon Handler, Kingsley a veteran Auror and Arthur is an accomplished wizard in his own right. I've little concern for their martial might should the need arise."
Molly's face seemed to return to worried, as opposed to incensed and Ginny's fist opened slightly, letting her fork down, if nothing else it saved another potato from a vicious death at the hands of Ginny Weasley.
The twins gave a final attempt to lighten the mood, they charmed Ron's shoes to tickle his feet, but no one was under the impression that the dinner could be salvaged.
Harry excused himself from the table, he needed some time from himself, to sort out his thoughts, get his head on straight.
He made his way to the orchard bordering the small creek, it was peaceful there, somewhere he could leave it all behind.
The creek trickled down the slight incline with a surprisingly serene trinkling, the trees were coated with a thin layer of sleet, caught up in the branches, the ground too was cold, but at the very least not wet.
In Spring, the tree's were filled with apples and other assorted fruits, the wind swung a delicate song through their branches and the Weasleys liked to swim where the water was deeper. But in the depths of winter, it was barren, almost skeletal. Harry thought it very much reflected how he felt at that moment in time.
The sky, however, was particularly beautiful tonight, the full moon cast a luminous glow on everything beneath it, the trees cast soft shadows, it made it a little less cold somehow, though he was less concerned with the temperature, he just stared skywards.
The stars shone particularly bright, he looked to his favourite almost instantaneously, the Dog Star - Sirius. It twinkled a light purple in the sky, almost as if it was winking at him. Sirius had shown it to him, from the window of Grimmauld Place one night. It was the only astronomy lesson Harry had ever loved and it certainly wasn't from Hogwarts.
It felt like there was almost an inherent connection between Harry and the Star, it felt like one of the last tangible connections between him and Sirius. He liked to gaze upon it whenever he could, as if Sirius could still hear him. He was up there, in Orion's Belt. He talked about his father a little, but he got the idea that he was a good man, like Sirius, but his mother cracked the whip in the black household. Maybe he was happy up there, with his father and family, maybe he found the peace up there that he struggled to find down here..
"So this is where you've gotten off to?" A voice questioned from behind him, the voice he cared for so much. She was bundled tightly in her winter robe, the one he'd had to take off her the day Katie was attacked. The thought brought forth memories that he cherished, but in this case, they pained him more than ever.
"I like it here." He responded, breaking his gaze from Sirius, the moonlight highlighted her silver hair, giving her an almost ethereal glow, it shone down her cascading hair and blue robes, she looked like an angel sent from the moon itself, it made his heart ache again.
"Even in this cold?" She asked, "You'll catch your death out here Harry, who can save Britain then?" It was a light joke, but the last thing he needed was the reminder that there was far more troubles beyond his heart.
He merely shrugged.
She took a spot beside him, laying down and too, looking up at the stars,
"What are you looking at?" She questioned.
"Sirius." He answered.
"Show it to me." She asked gently.
"See that star there?" He asked, directing her to the purple glow that shined brightest.
"It's beautiful." She said, "Your Godfathers' name, non?"
He merely nodded his head.
"Do you like it out here? Watching the stars that is."
"It's nice," He commented offhandedly, "Makes you realize how small all our problems are." He turned on his side, looking at her, his tone was terse, even pained if he was honest, he couldn't help but let it escape.
"You're being moody." She said bluntly, misinterpreting his pain for moping, he supposed he was moping in a way, but he liked to think he was somewhat above that.
"No I'm not." He defended himself.
"You are." She reiterated strongly. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." He tried lamely, she didn't believe him for a moment.
"You're lying." She said, "Don't make me get it out of you." She threatened.
"Oh yeah?" He scoffed in return.
Her fingers probed his side, at first he thought she was just poking him, but the fingers wriggled in his side and he squirmed to avoid them, letting out an uncharacteristic giggle. She was tickling him.
"You tickled me." He said flabbergasted at the sudden contact.
"I warned you." She said again, she reached for him again, tickling his side, he tried to roll away but she was ready. Like a beast stalking its prey she pounced on him, straddling just above his waist. He was more shocked than anything but soon her fingers found his side and she kept him in place. It was child-like, but she had the unique ability to make him forget the war, forget everything that troubled him, he thought it'd aggravate his sore body, but there was no pain, just something he'd longed for, genuine joy.
"Going to tell me yet?" She asked.
He was ready this time, she tried again but he threw her off and began to tickle her sides in return. It was a short tussle, but with a few graceful moves, she was back on top of him, he was fearful of testing the limits of the scar tissue or healing salve and hence, she overpowered and mounted him easily, like a seasoned jockey reigning in a temperamental steed.
"Concede?" She offered. Her face was only inches away as she mocked him, close enough her breath tickled his face.
"Alright, Alright." He acquiesced, "You win."
"So what's wrong?" She asked again.
Her ocean eyes started into his, this was a crucible like any he'd ever faced, not of magic, but of his heart. He could tell her everything, risk it all or be a coward, hiding his feelings until he couldn't anymore, until something happened. He looked past her for a moment, Sirius was shining brighter than before, twinkling greater than any other star in the sky, as if beckoning him to confess.
"You." He said hoarsely, "You're the problem."
"Me?" She asked confused, "I'm the problem?."
"It's you. It's always been you."
"What do you mean Harry?"
"I love you."
Simple words, that had anything but a simple impact, his heart thumped harder than ever, if it was any quieter, he was sure it could be heard. It was a hard realization to come to, his heart and head warred against each other until the former came out dominant, he never knew love, at least not in this fashion, it was almost scary, exhilarating. She seemed stunned, she remained sitting on his waist, but didn't say anything. It felt like every ticking second was a step closer to the inevitable, if she felt the same, she would've announced it. He played his hand and came up short. His lips dried quickly and his throat constricted, he desperately wanted to be anywhere else.
"Harry, I'm engaged."
"Don't," He said simply. "Please don't. We shared stories together, we talked about our families, we shared magic, we drank together. Don't use Bill as an excuse, you wouldn't have done all that if you didn't feel something."
There was the briefest of pauses, her eyes shone in the light. Her breath quickened, he could feel it on her face again.
"I love you, I can't pretend like I don't, I won't pretend." He said, almost pleadingly, "I can't stop, please don't ask me to."
"Harry.." She said in a breathless voice. The gap between their lips was so close, he could reach up and steal a kiss if he so dared, but he wouldn't, couldn't. It was a different sort of pain to have her so close and not being able to do anything about it, having her fiance's family near them was almost a deterrence, but he'd promised he would do it and he did.
"Please, just… don't." He didn't want the words to leave her lips, that the feelings were unrequited, he shifted his head to break their gaze, he didn't dare look at her now.
"Look at me." She said hoarsely, he shifted his gaze back to her.
She closed the distance between their faces and met his lips with hers, his lips erupted into the heat of passion, like the pleasurable sensation he felt when he held his phoenix feather but amplified tenfold, within every inch of his body whole body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, there was no cliche taste of fruit but she tasted unique, like no one ever would. It was addictive, Harry wanted more and she obliged, her tongue brushed his lower lip, initiating a passionate duel for dominance. The delicate dance of their lips together sparked something within the pair, their bodies grounded together in an almost desperate fashion, trying to nurse the flames in their lips to beat back the freezing cold. Every touch of their lips sent a feeling he couldn't
They soon broke for air, learning their foreheads against the other, their heavy breath made his heart race all the faster.
Their eyes gazed against each other, he couldn't quite explain how he felt, if he had to guess, euphoric. Enraptured by her body and soul, every so often he'd steal a kiss gently or she'd press down onto him, reigniting the flame, the duel of desire. Only to pause for breath, resuming their smoldering gaze into the other's eyes. He'd always heard on Aunt Petunia's soaps that the eyes were the window to the soul, he'd never paid it much heed, but now he found it was as just as intimate as their passionate kisses, not as interactive, but it had an appeal to it that was indescribable.
They stayed that way for some time, no words passing between them, there would be time for words later, but as for now, silence was pure bliss. Their tangled limbs and beating hearts provided a hearty buffer against the cold.
He listened to the slow beat of her heart, it was almost melodic. An artless song of the body that signified everything that had arisen between them, everything that promised to come, They'd laid cold grass for some time, before the beat of their hearts was conquered, like the noise of their hearts had been sent away in full rout.
Ping, It sounded like the noise the Ghoul made when he smashed the pipes together particularly hard, although it was more ferocious, an almost screeching, hellish sound that pierced the small valley. It made Harry feel cold, colder than the temperature, a noteworthy feat among the winter night.
Ping
Ping
She was roused from his chest, looking around inquisitively, there was a bright orange hue radiating across the landscape, though they'd been out there for some time, dawn had not yet arrived, as indicated by the moon still remaining high in the sky. It filtered through her hair and to his eyes, almost like a blood red halo crowning her silver hair.
He stood up with her, the two of them taking to their feet. Looking over the hill in the distance.
The Burrow was alight with a blazing inferno.
Welcome to Chapter Fifteen, For These Hearts Awakened, which I'm sure needs no explanation.
Thank you to my Beta-Reader, ThatFanFicWriterCalledNaomi and Emilia Blake for agreeing to help with the story, hopefully the story gets better with their assistance.
This is the Chapter to put me over 100k Words, which is what I set out to do from the moment I decided to start writing and reaching this point feels pretty good, what's better in my mind is knowing there's a lot more to come, the Story definitely isn't finished. Though nothing could've been achieved without the hundreds of reviews, favourites, views and follows. The effort that I make to write is only possible as a result of your dedication and support along the way, also to Authors like Sophprosyne whose work inspired me to write in the first place, it's been a fun ride and here's to many more. I wasn't sure I could make a 10k chapter, but here we are, with your support I've hit milestone after milestone and that means a lot to me.
On that topic, I've updated my profile to show some other projects I'm working on, that may be released concurrently with this story or I may release them after I've concluded, though you can see the descriptions and pairings there if you're interested in my writing.
Back onto the story, somehow even after one-hundred thousand words in, the romance in my mind still feels a little rushed, it's still very much in its infancy but it made me nervous. Anyways, the tale's been written.
On another note, I'm moving to University in five days so updates will be sporadic for a little while, although I will be back, no doubt.
Please read and review, it helps me grow as an author.
Until next time, enjoy!