Sirius stood still, staring at the stained oak door in front of him, the name 'Jacobson' etched on the obscured glass oval in the middle. It was just a few inches from his hand to the doorknob, but he knew what lay behind the wooden barrier. Jacobson's smug face, and that holier-than-thou tone that must have been given to him alongside whatever ridiculous diploma he had to get in order to 'work' in St. Mungos.
He sighed, staring down at the brass knob. It had been an image of Harry, and his hopeful features every time Sirius had talked about taking him in that had propelled him back to his court-ordered mind-healer, and it would be Harry that got him through that door. He'd made a promise, and talk was cheap.
The door made no sound as Sirius swung it open, and closed it again behind himself. Jacobson sat behind a desk to match the door, writing in a small notebook. He looked up as Sirius entered and set his pen down.
"Welcome back, Mr. Black," Jacobson said, with, Sirius noted, a surprising lack of smugness. "It's good to see you again."
"You too," Sirius said automatically in reply, taking the offered seat opposite Jacobson at his desk. "And please, just call me Sirius."
"So what brings you back, Sirius?"
Sirius squirmed, the feeling of opening up to a near-stranger painfully turning his insides.
"It's my Godson," he said after a moment. "He needs me to take him in."
"And you can't do that without being reinstated as Head of House?" Jacobson prompted, both a statement and question in one.
Sirius tried to wet his suddenly dry mouth. He'd spent days working up the courage to come back to a mind-healer, and somehow Jacobson had hit upon exactly what had made Sirius' mind up for him.
"Yes, but I also need to be good for him. He's had it rough and doesn't need another person looking after him who doesn't have it together. He deserves better."
Jacobson nodded, flipping to a new sheet of paper in his notebook.
"That's an excellent start," he said. "Well done. Before we can get to the deeper stuff, I need to know more about you."
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Harry sat down on his bed, half an ear turned to Ron, who was, yet again, complaining about his prefect rounds. Despite having heard Ron gripe about his new duties a few times in the week since the new term had started, it was almost comforting in its normalcy.
"-she got so embarrassed the first time, now she makes me do it! Everyone is going to hate me!" said Ron, dropping heavily onto his bed. "I say just let 'em do it. Awful rude to be interrupting something like that."
Harry nodded absently, not quite sure what he was agreeing with. He pulled out one of his required potions, downing it in one swift gulp. He mentally thanked whoever was responsible for the palatable flavor of the potions he had to take, especially considering the foul nature of some he had been forced to down during his storied time in the hospital wing. No sooner had he swallowed the potion than his stomach grumbled noisily, already clamoring for the dinner it would be receiving shortly.
Harry pulled out his enchanted paper from Fleur and felt his heart jump when he saw a new note written across one side.
Any luck finding out Hogsmeade days? I hope it is soon. I am going to lose my mind if I have to review any more autopsies.
Ron picked his head up from where he'd flopped down do look at Harry. A wry grin crossed his freckled face as he let his head fall back to the bed.
"You know Hermione's going spare trying to figure out how she made that thing," Ron said.
"She could probably just write and ask her," Harry replied absently, rummaging through his things for his quill. "Hey, when are the Hogsmeade weekends?"
"The last weekends in September and October...I think," Ron said to the ceiling. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure."
"Are you a prefect or aren't you?" Harry mumbled with a grin, mimicking Hermione's often exasperated voice.
"Shut it."
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
The second Defense against the Dark Arts class was no better than the first, Umbridge's false friendliness grating even harder on Harry's nerves than it had the first class. He hadn't been able to pinpoint what it was exactly that bothered him about her, but whatever it was, it wasn't done any favors by the horrid textbook she forced them to read.
"Ah, Mr. Potter, if you would stay behind please?" Umbridge asked from her seat behind her large desk at the front of the room.
Harry looked pleadingly at Ron and Hermione, who shrugged, but lingered near the door after they had gathered their things.
"Prefects or not," Umbridge said, directing a pointed glare to the stragglers. "It is not permitted for you to eavesdrop on a fellow student's private affairs. Run along, or it will be more points from Gryffindor."
Hermione frowned, before walking out the door, her footsteps echoing through the hall as she strode away. Ron shrugged again at Harry in apology, before following their friend.
"Your friends will get you into trouble one of these days Mr. Potter," Umbridge said, her false friendly smile firmly in place. Harry had to fight to keep from grimacing. It was as though someone had told her what a friendly smile looked like, but she had never bothered to learn. "That is one of the reasons I asked you here today. I will be starting an exclusive...group, shall we say, of students who I believe have what it takes to enforce some order around here."
Her genial mask slipped off for a moment, revealing the contempt simmering beneath as she gestured with her chin towards the door.
"This is no longer an environment in which young witches and wizards can grow to their full potential." She schooled her features, looking up at Harry with what he was vaguely sure was meant to be a hopeful expression. "I know you would be interested in being a part of that."
"I will be busy soon, Professor," Harry said, not untruthfully. "Quidditch will be starting, and it's O. this year, so we'll be doing a lot of extra studying. I'm not sure I'll have the time for much else."
Umbridge's smile became far more toothy, and less 'friendly' without even a twitch of movement.
"Well, if something...falls through...do let me know. I have quite a few contacts at the Ministry," her grin grew wider, though no more comforting. "Perhaps I can take you for a visit one day. A successful career in the Ministry is hard work, but having people you can count on never hurts."
"I'll keep that in mind, Professor," Harry answered, fighting to keep the defensiveness he felt growing in him from his voice.
"Well, don't be late!" She said, shooing him out with her hands. "I know Severus doesn't appreciate truancy."
Harry nodded, and left the defense room, sprinting down the halls as soon as he was out of earshot. The squat defense professor had already given more detentions in her minuscule tenure as a professor than he'd had in his entire time at Hogwarts, and he had no desire to spend more than a second around her if he could help it.
"What'd she want?" Ron whispered as Harry dropped his things next to their cauldron.
"Some...group..." Harry whispered back, clutching a stitch in his side.
"Fifteen points from Gryffindor." Snape's droning voice came echoing from the storerooms, preceding its owner by a handful of seconds. "Five for each minute you were late."
"Let us see who has done their reading," he said, his dark eyes scanning the class. "Who can tell me which potion uses both lacewing flies and bicorn horn?"
Silence greeted him, causing a sneer to draw up the corner of his mouth.
"You'll need to do far better than that to pass the potions O. . There is theory to go along with the practicum, and you are all sorely lacking in both departments. Instructions are on the board."
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
The month passed slowly as Harry looked forward to both the upcoming Hogsmeade visit, and training with Dumbledore. Every week that passed where Madame Pomfrey sadly shook her head after each examination left him with disappointment, though he'd been able to quell his irritation at not working to get stronger by filling his spare time with Sirius' book and notes to Fleur. Her work at the ministry kept her busy, and when she wasn't working late on reports, she continued her search for a place to live, so far unsuccessfully. It was always a small thrill to find a new message waiting for him, but their schedules aligned so infrequently, they had rarely been able to exchange more than one or two messages per day.
During their limited free time, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had taken to studying the book in a secluded section of the library, Harry opting to leave his special paper up in the dorm after a disastrous first session where Hemione seemed intent on discerning the paper's secrets just by glaring. The book had been interesting, despite its somewhat technical verbiage. He had never seen any book he had come across delve so deep into the how of magic. There was even a section in the back detailing the unforgivables. He'd felt an odd morbid curiosity to learn about the Cruciatus and the Killing Curse, but he doubted the return of his early summer nightmares were worth the risk.
"Well, that's it for me," Ron said, dropping one of their reference books down on the table. "There's only so many times a bloke can look at the words 'substrate deformative intention' without going mental."
"It's not that bad, Ron," Hermione chided automatically as she rifled through one of the four open books in front of her.
"Speak for yourself," Ron replied, stretching as he stood. "Coming, Harry?"
"Yeah," he said, grabbing Sirius' book. "I'm beat, and it's Hogsmeade tomorrow, so I don't want to be exhausted."
"Oh!" Hermione said, suddenly popping out of her 'research zone'. "Harry, do you think Fleur would meet with me after you're done? I have some questions for her."
"I'll ask, but you could probably just have written to her and found out sooner."
"It's easier to ask in person," Hermione replied absently, already lost in her books.
Harry followed Ron from the library after a mumbled goodbye from their friend, and the two of them headed toward Gryffindor tower, swerving through the mass of first and second years as they went.
"So-" Ron began, dodging a pair of sprinting second-years as they ran past. "Slow down! Unless you want to lose some house points!"
The second-years stumbled as they stopped abruptly, before quickly continuing down the hall and around a corner.
"Well well-" Harry said, a grin on his face.
"Don't start," Ron grumbled. "No wonder Percy is such a great big prat. Three years of this will get to a bloke. Do ya' reckon McGonagall will let me off the hook next year?"
Harry laughed as they turned a corner down another, far less crowded hall.
"So," Ron tried again, "how was France? Did you really not go anywhere?"
Harry shook his head. "It was nice to just stay at the manor. There was so much going on I didn't even think about getting out to go see the sights."
"That...makes sense," Ron said, his ears turning faintly pink. "Sorry."
"Don't be. We spent a lot of time outside. It's really nice there."
Ron grew silent, his eyes unfocused as the climbed a set of stairs.
"It's weird," he said finally. "I've been to Egypt, but never over to France, which is so much closer."
Harry's words of reassurance that he would probably be welcome at the Delacours died on his tongue when he remembered the requirements for a visit. Occlumency training probably couldn't hurt, but he doubted it would be feasible for his friend to learn such a difficult skill as quickly as they would like. He made a silent promise to his friend to redouble his efforts to find at least some way to introduce Ron to Fleur. He didn't like the idea of needing to keep his friends separate and was sure Fleur would appreciate someone else she could talk with.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Harry pulled his shirt quickly over his head, feeling the odd sensation of the shirt growing to fit as he pulled it down over his chest. He had laid the clothes out the night before on his trunk, so he wouldn't forget, and accidentally wear his regular clothes to Hogsmeade instead of the ones Fleur had said she liked. He took the stairs to the common room two at a time to meet up with his friends, before heading down to the village.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked side by side down the path to Hogsmeade village, though Harry occasionally found himself a few steps ahead of the other two. They parted ways in front of the Three Broomsticks with Harry promising to let Hermione know when they were finished, so she could ask Fleur about her enchanted paper.
He climbed the stairs to the upper rooms at Madam Rosmerta's instruction, noting happily that his presence had barely caused a ripple of attention, a far cry from his last visit during the tournament. He knocked on the closed wooden door to the room he'd shared his first dinner with Fleur and Apolline, smiling as he heard Fleur's muffled, but obviously excited, "Come in!"
"Harry!" she greeted as he opened the door. She slid her hand behind her ear, securing some loose strands back over her shoulder. Harry smiled, sure she'd been fiddling with the ends of her long silvery hair. He saw her freeze in surprise for a moment before she quickly closed the distance between them. "You have grown taller!"
"I have?" he asked. He stared at her a moment, before realizing it was true. She had stood quite a few inches taller than him at the Yule Ball, forcing him to look up at her to avoid any embarrassment, and less than a month previous, he still had to look up into her eyes when they were standing right next to each other. Now, Harry realized, he didn't have to look up quite so far into her sky-blue eyes, though she was still noticeably taller. He saw her head tilt to the side, and her eyes unfocus.
"I have...missed this," she said quietly, her eyes refocusing on his own. "Everyone at the DMLE knows enough Occlumency to be unaffected by my 'allure,' but they are not quite adept enough to fully keep them from the occasional touch of my abilities. I feel flashes of sense from those around me while I am trying to work. It is honestly harder to tune out than were they completely enthralled."
She smiled at him, not her brilliant smile that he enjoyed so much, but her shy, nervous one.
"I hope it is not weird to say, but your presence is comforting. I had been spoiled this summer by you, and the way you have allowed me to freely feel what you feel, and to try to understand your sense. It has been difficult to go back to the limited perception I get from strangers."
"I'm sorry."
"You do not need to be," Fleur said, before her eyebrows shot up, her perfect features a picture of surprise. "I cannot believe I forgot. It was the first thing I was going to tell you." Harry could see the nervous excitement building inside her. "I have found a place to live!"
"Oh wow!" Harry said, following Fleur, who led him to the chairs in front of the empty fireplace. "Where is it?"
"Papa and I found a place south of Paris in Melun. The man who owns it gave me a small discount on monthly rent since the tenant downstairs tends to be noisy."
"Won't that get annoying?" Harry asked.
"I can cast a charm to keep the sound out if I need to," Fleur said with a shrug. "I move in at the beginning of next month! Do you want to come to see it?"
"I do, but I don't think they'll let me leave school. Maybe during Christmas?" he asked apologetically.
"Oh, that is a great idea!" Fleur said, her voice quick and excited. "I have already decided that I am going to decorate my apartment for the season. Christmas is my favorite holiday, and I cannot wait to put up my very own tree."
Harry grinned, his friend's infectious excitement a welcome relief.
"Do you think we could exchange our gifts there?" Fleur asked suddenly, her excitement dampened slightly by another shy smile. "Christmas Day would be with Gabrielle and my parents, and of course your godfather is welcome, but I thought it might be nice for us to do something the night before, just the two of us." She blushed before continuing, the color rising up her face and down her neck, disappearing beneath the billowy shirt she was wearing. "I would like for there to be gifts under my tree as well."
"Sure!" Harry said. "I'm looking forward to it." He frowned a little in thought. "I still need to get everyone gifts though…"
"Well," Fleur said, tapping a finger to her chin, "you and Maman had so much fun baking together, she might appreciate something to do with that. Papa is always difficult to buy for. He is not a materialistic person, so he will probably be the most difficult. Gabrielle would probably like something to help her write to you. She told me to tell you she is still working on her letter."
Harry nodded, a vague idea for Gabrielle's gift taking shape.
"I am not sure what I would want," Fleur continued. "I know I said you do not have to get me anything, but now I am looking forward to exchanging gifts at my new apartment…"
"I already know what I'm getting you," Harry said quietly, trying to keep his ears from burning. He'd had the idea during one of their last walks through the woods together, and only hoped she liked it.
"Oh do you?" she said, a sly grin pulling at one corner of her mouth. "What is it?"
"It's a surprise," Harry said defensively. He wasn't even sure if his idea was possible.
Fleur pouted, then frowned.
"That means I really need to decide what to get you," she mumbled. "You are difficult to buy for as well."
"Sorry," he said dutifully.
"I will figure it out," she said, snapping out of her thoughts. "Are you ready for your very first French lesson?"
Harry nodded, her excited energy again pulling him easily along as she began explaining the basics.
The hours seemed to pass in minutes as they talked, Harry wincing every time he butchered Fleur's beautiful language.
"You are doing well," Fleur reassured him. She glanced out the window, her face falling in disappointment at the darkening sky that greeted her. "It is, however, growing late, and you said Hermione was insistent about asking me about our message papers?"
Harry nodded, her disappointment mirrored in himself.
"She's probably downstairs," he said, rising slowly from his chair. Fleur reluctantly followed suit, smoothing her flowing fabric trousers as she stood. She followed him over to the door, where she stopped him with a quick tap on the shoulder.
"Could I have a hug goodbye?" she asked, her eyes downcast above a sad smile.
Harry returned the smile, stepping forward into her open arms. She was just as warm and comforting as he remembered.
Harry waved goodbye as he shut the door, leaving Fleur alone in the cold silent room. She absently ran her fingers through her hair, pulling some over her shoulder as she sat back down to wait for Hermione. She had expected to be more nervous for the first time talking with Hermione alone, especially considering the esteem to which she could tell Harry held her. She wanted Hermione to like her and hoped they too could become friends, but all she could focus on was the empty chair in front of her that Harry had vacated. She felt her skin chill as the last of his relatively cool body heat dissipated from his hug. For someone so unused to contact, she thought he was quite a good hugger...and getting taller…
A soft knock at the door snapped her from her thoughts, and she consciously put her hair back behind her shoulder.
"Come in!" she called, feeling the nervousness in her stomach begin to overpower the slight melancholy of Harry's departure.
Hermione opened the door, offering a nervous, "Hello," as she stepped inside the room.
Fleur gestured to the seat in front of her and pulled her piece of messaging paper from her pocket. Hermione sat in the offered seat, shifting around in an attempt to get comfortable, before sitting on the edge, her back straight.
"How have you been?" Fleur asked.
"Good," Hermione answered quickly. "It was a rather uneventful summer despite the events at the end of...well...you know," she finished. "Sorry."
"It is okay," said Fleur, offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Harry said you had some questions about my papers?" She held up her copy, before letting it drop back into her lap.
Hermione stared at the paper for a moment, curiosity flashing through her features for a moment, before she settled on a concentrated frown. Fleur felt the curiosity fade from Hermione's sense, replaced by urgent determination.
"I would like to know about it," Hermione said, "but that's not why I came."
Fleur felt her heart sink, her mind recalling her old friends at Beauxbatons telling her they couldn't be around her anymore, about how it was too much work, and how they boys they liked wouldn't stop staring at her.
"Why did you come then?" Fleur asked, attempting to keep the dread from her voice. The sooner it was done with, the sooner she could leave.
Hermione chewed on her lip, before locking Fleur's eyes with her own.
"I need to thank you," Hermione said, an immense wave of gratitude following her statement.
Fleur sat up straighter in surprise.
"What for?"
"For helping Harry," Hermione said, her brown eyes shifting over to look at the cold hearth. "I've always known that there was something ...but I would have never guessed…" She gathered herself, looking back to the older witch. "I'm not sure he ever would have told me," she admitted, her voice faltering as she finished.
"I am sure-" Fleur began before Hermione cut her off with a shake of her bushy head.
"It's okay," the younger girl said, her voice quiet and fragile. "Honestly, I'm just glad he's safe now. As safe as he can be, anyway. So I just wanted to say thanks."
Fleur felt the sincerity from Hermione, her sense a warm consistent wave of gratitude, but she could feel something low and volatile underneath.
"Is that...everything...you wanted to say?" Fleur prompted gently, earning her a startled look from the girl. She could almost see the thoughts whirling through Hermione's head before her shoulders sagged, and her eyes dropped.
"It hurts," Hermione whispered. "I know I have no right to expect anything from him, but it still hurts ."
"What does?" Fleur asked gently.
"That he would come to you first, instead of me," Hermione said, the words tumbling from her mouth in a torrent. "I've been with him for years, and I've always tried to let him know he can talk to me if he needs anything, but he knows you for less than a year and confides his deepest secrets to you? Why you? Is it because you're-" Hermione gestured towards Fleur, before dropping her hand.
"Because I am what?" Fleur asked, unable to keep the venom from her voice. "Because I am Veela?"
"No," Hermione said defensively. "Because you're skilled enough to be a Triwizard champion, to be an intern at the DMLE, to create an enchantment that can reach across hundreds of kilometers, and…" she trailed off, her cheeks reddening. "Yes...because you're beautiful." Hermione gestured weakly towards Fleur again. "The loose clothing hides some, but not all," she muttered, feeling unaccountably childish in her simple plaid button-up shirt and khaki trousers.
"I do not think that is why Harry chose to confide in me," Fleur said, her tone far more frigid than she had intended. She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. "Do you?"
Hermione shook her head quickly, her voluminous hair still moving after she stopped.
"No, I don't. Please don't misunderstand. No matter what the reason could have been, I am glad he's safe now. I know I'm not explaining myself well, and I'm sorry."
"What do you mean then?" Fleur asked, arching an eyebrow. She could feel the whirling shards of jealousy in Hermione's sense warring with gratitude and embarrassment. Fleur tried to calm herself. Most women that were jealous of her looks or abilities simply shouted or threatened her. They didn't usually attempt to explain themselves.
Hermione winced just before her sense turned to one of resignation.
"I think I'm a little jealous," she muttered. "Not necessarily because of Harry, but because of everything you're doing. You've worked so hard to get to where you are that you're working in a foreign Ministry directly out of school. I've been studying like crazy for my OWLs just so I can try to do the same, not to mention trying to figure out that tricky bit of enchanting you've got there," she said, nodding towards the paper still resting in Fleur's lap. "Not to mention how much you pushed yourself during that terrible tournament…
"I know you've had to work incredibly hard to get to where you are," Hermione continued, a determined set to her jaw. "So yes, I'm a little jealous, but I also admire you and the things you've done."
Fleur felt her other eyebrow follow her first as they raised in surprise. She certainly hadn't expected all that . The knot of hurt and anger that had building inside her unclenched, leaving her feeling drained.
"Thank you," Fleur said, feeling her face heat at the praise.
"I would very much like to be friends," Hermione continued, her sense still full of nervousness. "Harry and Ron are great, but I don't really have any friends that are girls."
"Neither do I," Fleur answered. "Except for my sister."
"Friends?" Hermione asked. Fleur could see Hermione's shoulders tense as she braced for rejection. She hesitated for a moment before smiling at the younger girl.
"Friends."
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Hermione walked slowly back to Gryffindor tower, grateful for the solitude to process her time with Fleur. She had gone into the room meaning simply to thank Fleur for helping Harry, she hadn't meant for the conversation to nearly dissolve their fledgling friendship. She felt her stomach turn uncomfortably as she recalled her words. Fleur knew she was beautiful, why had she felt the need to bring it up? She tugged irritably on the hem of her shirt, doing her best to force the thought from her mind. She knew she wouldn't be a very good friend if she did nothing but compare herself to the older witch, especially considering the nearly two-year age gap. She had no doubt Fleur had grown quite a lot in skill between sixteen and nearly eighteen. She would do everything she could to ensure she did so as well.
Hermione finally arrived at Gryffindor tower to find Harry and Ron engaged in a rather one-sided game of chess.
"How long did you manage this time?" Hermione asked.
"Not long," Harry sighed as Ron's knight cut down his queen with a vicious blow. "Do you want a go?"
Hermione shook her head, the visit with Fleur leaving her drained. "I think I'll turn in a little early. I've got to finish my homework tomorrow, and I want to study that book of yours a little more."
"It's all yours," Harry said, getting revenge for his queen with a bishop, even though he could see it left him open for a quick checkmate. "I've got to see Madam Pomfrey tomorrow. Hopefully, she'll say I'm ready for...well, you know."
"I hope so," Ron said, moving in for the kill. "I can't wait to see what sort of stuff you'll learn."
"Me too," Harry said, forfeiting the game before Ron could make the final move.
"Oh come on! You know I like to see the king throw a fit when he's beat!"
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Harry sat on his bed, his old baggy pyjamas feeling uncomfortably loose compared to the well-fitting charmed clothes he'd worn to Hogsmeade. He pulled out his message paper, as had become habit just before bed, to find a new note waiting for him.
It was good to see you today. Between my work at the Ministry, and searching for an apartment, things have not felt very...steady...since you left. I had not realized how much I missed having a friend around until we were back together. Now that Gabrielle is back at Beauxbatons, it is just me and Maman here on weekends, though I can tell she is upset that I will be moving out soon.
I am looking forward to next month, as well as Christmas. I can't wait!
Harry inked his quill and began penning his reply.
I'm glad you could come to Hogsmeade as well. I know I've only been back to school for a month, but it just feels like I'm killing time until I can work with Dumbledore. Hermione is working like crazy to study for OWLs, and all I want to do is read the book Sirius lent me, especially since defense this year is horrible.
Harry looked over to the book sitting on the end of his bed, a number of Hermione's bookmarks sticking out the top.
It was nice to be able to see each other again, though the Three Broomsticks isn't quite as nice as the woods there in France. I'm looking forward to Christmas as well. Please tell your family I said hi.
He set the paper on his nightstand and picked up Sirius' hefty book. He flipped through the pages to the back chapters. Maybe the warm feelings he'd gotten from spending time with Fleur would keep any nightmares he might get from reading about the Cruciatus at bay. The book eventually put him to sleep, though instead of dreaming of the Cruciatus as he had feared, he simply dreamt of his visit with Fleur. He noticed a lavender ribbon keeping her hair back, but before he could comment on it, she began instructing him on a new French word, and he was lost to the dream.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
The next morning found Harry back in the Hospital Wing for his next checkup and doses of his supplement potions.
"Are you feeling any different?" Madam Pomfrey asked as her wand slowly traced his outline. "Have you noticed any changes?"
"I'm a bit taller now," he answered, remembering Fleur's observation. "I'm still really hungry after drinking the potions, so that hasn't really changed." He paused as she tapped him on the shoulder, indicating for him to turn around. "Professor Dumbledore said I could get started working with him once I'm back to where I'm supposed to be. Am I at least close?"
Madam Pomfrey sighed, and he saw her wand vanish from his side as she stepped back around to his front.
"The Headmaster is an incredible wizard, but a healer, he is not." She smiled reassuringly at Harry's subsequent confused expression. "You are making incredible progress, but there is no 'should be'. There's no sudden point where your body is...finished making up for lost time...as it were."
Harry frowned, frustration building inside of him.
"Well, then how will you know when I'm all better?"
"Sit down, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said, her taciturn examination tone replaced by her more friendly one. She leaned against the bed opposite Harry as he took a seat as instructed.
"Let me start by saying that these potions are doing you a world of good. When you are finished, you should feel a great deal healthier than you ever have before." She took a deep breath, a sign that Harry knew meant she was about to deliver news she thought he wouldn't like. "However, it doesn't 'erase' what's been done to you."
Harry stiffened, uncertainty growing in his chest. "What does that mean?" he asked.
"To be perfectly blunt, the Headmaster misspoke. I do not want you to think these potions will somehow bring you to where you 'should be'. There is no 'should be'. You are where you are, and chasing some idea of where you ought to be is dangerous. We will know you have gotten as much as you are going to from these treatments when your growth slows, and we begin to see diminishing returns on each dose of the potion."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"The way you think about what has happened is important, as is the way you talk about yourself, and what has happened. That is why I say there is no 'should be'. That is an ideal that you will never reach because what should have happened, was that you were never mistreated in the first place, but that is not reality." The matron sighed, an unusual flicker of frustration crossing her eyes. "It will take someone far more skilled than I to explain it well," she said. "Incidentally, I certainly recommend you talk to an individual like that. If you would like, I could find a couple of recommendations for you."
"That would be fine...I suppose," Harry said.
Madam Pomfrey nodded, before gesturing to another sack of potions.
"I'm sorry Mr. Potter, but I still don't think you're quite finished yet. I'll let the Headmaster know of your significant progress, but I can't sign off just yet. I will see you next week."
Harry nodded, trying to keep his irritation in check. It wasn't her fault he wasn't finished yet. It just meant another week of studying Sirius' book and doing classwork, even though every minute spent not learning from Dumbledore felt like a minute wasted. How could he protect his friends if he couldn't even start learning?
"Thank you," he said, grabbing the sack of potions. "See you next week."
He carried the potions up to his dorm, tossing them on his bed and flopping down next to them. He was glad the dorm was empty, most of the Gryffindors out enjoying the nice day, while Ron and Hermione patrolled the halls, being 'fun-killers,' as Ron often put it. He pulled out Sirius' book and continued where he'd left off the night before on the Killing Curse. He might as well get something done before he had to lend the book to Hermione.
He was shaken awake by Ron, the book resting open on his chest.
"Angelina is coming to murder you if you don't get a move on," Ron said, his red hair plastered to his forehead by sweat. "Fred and George have distracted her by pretending they've forgotten how the Bludgers work, but you know Fred can't resist her for long."
Harry sat bolt upright with a grin on his face, the book tumbling to the bed. He had forgotten it was the day for Quidditch tryouts, and Angelina might actually murder him if she knew he'd forgotten, but he could still make it. It was finally time to break in his new Firebolt.
Ron tugged on his arm, pointing to the door.
"Quit grinning like a loon and come on, or she'll get us both!"