The gentle clinks and clatters of breakfast getting underway were audible from the landing. Hermione leaned over the balustrade, her hair swinging out. She tucked it behind her ear, frowning as she heard Ron's voice carrying up. He had risen before her, but then, she had collapsed in her bed in the early hours of the morning after Remus woke her gently from the chair beside Harry's bed. As she did the morning before, she stared at her surroundings in a daze, taking it all and letting the reality settle on her shoulders before heading down the stairs to greet another day in exile.
"Could…could I just have some water?"
At the sound of Harry's voice, Hermione's quick flight down the steps suddenly halted and she grasped the handrail. Her head snapped over in the direction he had spoken from. The kitchen. He was out of bed.
Stunned, she continued, pausing as she reached the open door of his bedroom. Sure enough, his bed was empty, unmade.
An unexplainable feeling of intense nervousness swept through her as she headed towards the kitchen. Her heart was starting to race. Surely it was too soon for him to be out of bed. Only a few hours before, he had been unable to move his arms properly, his mobility severely limited, nerves befuddled in the aftermath of his coma. His movements had been less jerky when he woke up in the night, but she had seen the effort it cost him to move his hand and hold hers.
He held my hand… and I touched him.
The vulnerability that he exposed before her. It made her act on impulse. She was fuelled only with the desire to comfort him and… it worked. Her touch soothed him. When she saw the flutter in his eyelashes, the soft huff of his breath as the tension ebbed out of him, a strange feeling tugged at her. It had felt awkward at first, until she realised how soft his skin was under his arm and how she could feel his pulse under her fingertips. The sign that Harry Potter was living, no longer a prisoner of Voldemort, no longer suffering and being condemned to die in a horrific fashion and made an example of. He was safe, recovering… but he was in pain. Physical and emotional. Seeing it, hearing him admit it, awoke a fierce need inside her that she always felt towards her friend, only it was magnified. The need to look out for him.
Inside the kitchen, Tonks was at the counter, scrambling eggs from what it looked like, or so Hermione hoped from the number of eggshells scattered on the work surface. A whisk was hard at work while Tonks conjured the cutlery out of the drawer. She had improved since their days in Grimmauld Place where she had pretty much been banned from stepping a foot near the kitchen
She stepped inside, gazing at the scene and stopping in her tracks. A wave of disbelief crashed over her, making her doubt her own eyes, a sensation that she was getting more and more used to with each passing moment in the villa. A teapot sat in the centre of the table. Three cups were set out, steaming. Ron was awkwardly leaning over his cup, wearing a furtive expression. Remus was standing, sorting out tea and refreshments, looking more relaxed than she had seen him during the whole time they had been in exile. He was at Harry's side.
Her attention went on him at once. Harry's shoulders were bunched as he sat, arms resting on the table top. His head was leaning over an empty glass. His legs were still, his feet still on the foot-rests of his wheelchair, yet the rest of him pulsed with movement. His arms shook with tremors, the muscles in his back spasming for a moment. Then he turned his head and caught her in his stare.
There was colour in his face. His cheeks were tinged pink, a healthy pink. His lips parted at the sight of her, eyes widening as he took in her presence. Her heart gave a skip as it always did at the sight of the red marks in the whites of his eyes. They were not as vivid as they had been when they first found him in the passageway, bound and gagged. They still made the green of his irises gleam. His face was not as bruised, the injuries healing in their own time. He looked a lot better. And then he smiled.
"Morning," he said, his voice level.
"Oh, morning Hermione," Tonks glanced over her shoulder, flashing a sheepish smile. The bowl of eggs suddenly thunked down to the work-surface. Hermione jumped at the sound, and then saw that breakfast was in peril. She moved to help.
"Do you want more-?" Remus asked Harry under his voice.
"Yes… please," Harry's reply was soft. Hermione glanced over, watching the glass fill up with water. Remus moved away from Harry, heading to settle at the table and have his tea. Hermione reached Tonks.
"What do you need?" Hermione asked, picking up the bowl.
"Oh don't worry. I've got this. Go, sit down." Tonk shooed her away, eyes lighting up. "I need the practice."
Hermione retreated, turning to head towards the table. Remus caught her eye. He gave her a warm smile and summoned up another cup and saucer at the space next to him. Hermione walked around the table to reach it. She pulled out the chair, settling down as the teapot filled up her cup. Harry watched her, then his gaze went past her to look at the view out the window. He sighed, bowing his head.
"This place… who owns it?"
"Fleur's family."
"Oh right. Of course," Harry studied his hand for a moment before continuing. "Do they… know that we're here?"
"No, but Fleur gave us permission to stay here. She was very insistent…actually." Remus assured him. "It was the best option we had. I admit, I'm not exactly comfortable exploiting the hospitality of people I barely know myself, but Fleur made it very clear that we are welcome here."
Harry gave a nod, but he was still frowning. "It won't take much for the death eaters to link the Delacours to us. Won't there be a record that they own this place?"
"Any records would be kept within the French Ministry's archives. Outside our Ministry's jurisdiction." Remus added after Hermione, giving a wry smile. "And therefore outside of Voldemort's." Harry's head jerked over to him, alarmed. "Ah - I forgot to mention. We're safe from the taboo. The fidelius charm shields us from detection."
Harry looked over at him, confused for a moment. "There's a fidelius charm?" Remus nodded.
"This location was already unplottable and charmed against muggle attention, a complete secret to any locals here. Not that there are many. The nearest village is about ten miles away and the closest house is a fishing hut. It's as remote as you can get on the coast here." He turned in his seat to look out the window. "Only a handful of people know that it exists. Perfect for a fidelius charm."
Harry frowned at the table, "but the Delacours don't know that we're here… using their stuff…"
"Fleur was really insistent," Ron smirked, "you know how she is. Originally we were meant to hide out at their place, but Kingsley thought it best we scatter and hide in exile. At least until… well…."
Hermione noticed Harry's untouched cup of tea. She brought out her wand and hovered the jug over to him. A strange expression twisted at the corner of his mouth as he watched. She cast a stirring charm on the contents.
"Part of me still wants to believe that I've gone mad. It makes more sense than being in the south of France… drinking tea." He reached for his tea cup, concentrating as he grabbed the handle, bringing his head over to make it easier for himself. Hermione watched him sip cautiously at it.
"Well if that's the case then we've all gone mad because we're here in France with you," Ron said, slouching in his chair.
"Here we go!" Tonks bustled over, levitating plates towards them. Ron ducked just in time as a plate nearly collided with the back of his head. "Oops, sorry Ron."
"It's alright," Ron said, reaching up and catching the plate before it clattered on the table. Scrambled eggs dropped from the plate. He stood up and took the plate that was precariously hovering near Harry, who peered up in surprise as cutlery zoomed towards them. A knife and fork dropped in front of him as Ron put his plate down.
"Merlin, Dora…"
"I know, I know." Tonks wore a sheepish grin as she went to sit in the chair at Remus's other side. Hermione gave her an awkward smile, wincing a little as a plate clattered in front of her, joined by a knife and fork. Breakfast was served. Tonks style.
Ron was already tucking into his eggs. Hermione eyed her plate. Scrambled eggs, a buttered roll and some cured ham. She went to thank Tonks, unable to shake her unease of having food made and served by someone she barely knew. It was still strange to find herself in their company. After the last manic few days, moments of deceptive normality set her on edge.
"You didn't have to go to this trouble, you know?" Remus said to his wife.
Harry was staring at the plate before him. Hermione looked over, noticing his injured hand playing with the handle of the knife, his expression guarded as he glanced around. Hermione knew Harry well enough to know that he was very embarrassed, but unable to vocalise his discomfort. He met her stare.
"There is soup left over from yesterday if that's…easier," she said to him softly. Harry's mouth jerked at the corner.
"No… this looks great. I'm just a bit…shaky," he said. "I don't want to make a mess."
"I can help if-" Remus started.
"No," Harry cut over, his voice startlingly harsh. Remus blinked in response. Harry's eyes widened. "I'm… sorry. I just…want to try myself first. Please." His face flushed. Hermione caught Ron's eye across the table. Ron looked away, busying himself with his breakfast.
Hermione ate carefully, watching Harry in the corner of her eye. She heard the clink of his fork on the plate, saw him have some success with scooping egg and then he brought it up to his face, his arm trembling. She glanced, seeing his expression of concentration, then looked away, feeling a surge of affection towards him.
He is so stubborn!
"We are going to have to think about resupplying soon," Remus said, breaking the silence and bringing the focus away from Harry as he ate.
"I assume you don't mean popping out to the shops and buying groceries," Tonks said.
"Not…exactly," he said as carefully as he could. "We don't have any local currency."
"I have some pounds. If we went to a bank, we could convert it into francs," Hermione suggested.
"Francs?" Ron frowned.
"It's the muggle currency here. We're fairly near tourist hotspots so changing British currency into French wouldn't be that suspicious. There just is the issue of being… well…" Hermione broke off awkwardly, flashing Harry a quick glance.
"Fugitives?" Tonk finished.
"We can transfigure disguises. Unless you have any polyjuice potion left?" Remus tore his roll, looking up at Hermione expectantly.
"I have some but… if we can use basic disguises, I'd rather save it."
"Sensible," Remus said with a smile. "And while I appreciate the offer of using your money, Hermione, I don't think we really need to worry about staying above the law."
"You're suggesting that we steal?" Ron asked, stunned.
"I wouldn't usually condone it, but if it avoids being out in the open for longer than necessary…" Remus gave Ron a mischievous smile. "Don't look so surprised, Ron, you forget that I wasn't exactly the perfect role model at Hogwarts with Harry's dad and Sirius as my best friends."
Harry perked up. Hermione glanced over, noticing how slow and methodical he was being, taking care to not eat too fast and overwhelm himself. Hermione looked over at Tonks, seeing her concern as she flashed a cautious look at Harry.
"I can make an excursion later. Just…reconnaissance. Scout out the nearest town. And…I should apparate to Romania, sooner rather than later."
"That's not a simple excursion," Tonk scowled at him. "If you're going to travel that distance, you should make a portkey."
"No… portkey travel will be picked up and we want to avoid any risk of magic being detected here. I'll be fine."
"If you get splinched…"
"I'll be fine," Remus repeated, smiling good-naturedly as he went to pat her on the hand, assuringly. Hermione noticed how wary Tonks was. Out of all of them, she was the most jittery. It was no wonder when she had the life of her child to worry about, her fears going into overdrive. It was clear that she was scared for her husband, especially when she nearly lost him only days ago. Hermione couldn't help but feel a surge of guilt, feeling in part responsible for getting her involved. While Remus had leapt at the chance to save Harry, his reasons were personal. Tonks had no obligation to them, not over the life of her child, at least. And yet, here she was, hiding in exile with the most wanted people in the magical world.
"If you're going anywhere, you should take my cloak," Harry said quietly, "you can't be seen… by anyone." He had finished his eggs, leaving the roll and the ham. He put down his fork and sighed. "Disguises aren't good enough. You'll still be a stranger in a small town and that's too much attention. He has spies everywhere…"
The gravity of his words settled down on them all. He was right. Even in a far-flung place in the South of France, there could be a chance of being spotted and, even if it was a slim chance, it was a risk they couldn't take.
"You're right, Harry. Disguises aren't good enough. I… I'm honoured that you would let me use your cloak."
Harry shrugged, then winced, the action causing him pain.
"You were using it with my dad before I was even born. I reckon you have as much right to use it as I do."
"Yes, with your dad. He'd never let anyone else use it without him," Remus said with a wistful smile. Harry's brow furrowed at his words.
"Really?" Harry was staring at Remus intently.
"Yes, hardly anyone knew about it. It's incredibly valuable, and not just because it's one-of-a-kind. It's been in your family for generations."
Harry had picked up his roll, about to eat until he stopped, looking at Remus in surprise. He returned it to his plate.
"Oh… I had no idea. I mean, I just knew that it belonged to my dad. Dumbledore gave it to me on my first Christmas at Hogwarts." Harry looked away for a moment, a flicker of pain dancing over his features before he schooled his expression. "Well, as the last Potter, I give you permission to use the cloak."
Hermione felt a stab in her heart at Harry calling himself 'the last Potter', as if there was more significance other than him being the last surviving member of his family. He wasn't talking about his family, but his name - his heritage. His magical heritage.
"It's a pretty amazing Invisibility Cloak," Tonks remarked, "usually they wear out after a few years and yours from the sounds of it has had plenty of use. Mad-eye's was fraying terribly and he had to ditch it."
"Hmm yes, that's why it's so rare," Remus said after taking a sip of tea, "one-of-a-kind. I daresay, it's likely the most valuable thing in this house right now. Speaking of which…are you sure you're happy with me using it, Harry? I realise that it's… got a lot of sentimental value as well."
"I'm sure," Harry offered a small smile. He looked down at his plate again, scrutinising the roll. Hermione returned to her own breakfast, realising that she hadn't eaten a bite.
The rest of the breakfast carried on in silence, but it was not awkward. They ate quietly, looking out at the view and shooting each other glances. The only one not glancing at the company they were keeping was Harry, who focused on his task at hand, chewing slowly. Ron was shifting in his seat, having already finished, appearing very restless.
Once Harry was finally finished, he drank more water and then settled himself back into the chair, closing his eyes briefly.
"Thanks Tonks," he said quietly. She beamed at him. He then squirmed a little, eyes opening, face flushing. He glanced over to Remus, opening his mouth to speak, his cheeks going redder.
"I need, uh…" He rubbed at his face, trying to hide. "I need to go." He put his hands on the wheels on his chair, grimacing as he put pressure on his right, then lifted them.
Ron was up at once, looking relieved that he could do something useful. Harry jumped a little at the suddenness of his reaction.
"Do you want me to…uh…take you to the bathroom?" Ron asked him, his relief disappearing as awkwardness took over.
"S-sure. I mean…"
"If you'd rather-," Ron glanced over to Remus, who cleared his throat.
"There are spells if you'd prefer." Remus said. He gave Harry a sympathetic smile.
"No… no. I want to deal with this normally," Harry said, "sorry Ron but I… don't think I'll be able to stand."
Both Harry and Ron were bright red.
"Yeah, I gathered. Don't worry. It's fine." Ron took the handles of Harry's chair, wearing a sheepish expression as he steered him from the table. Harry looked close to tears, his humiliation cutting him deeply. Hermione's heart was aching for him. Seeing him so distressed, embarrassed…
As Ron disappeared with Harry, she gave a sigh and looked over to Remus. He wore a very worried expression.
"It's probably too soon to have him out of bed but I couldn't bear to see him feeling so trapped. Not after what he's been through," Remus said quietly, "besides, from what I know about Harry, he does best when he has something to fight towards. Making him rest in bed with no purpose would be the worst thing to do to him."
"He shouldn't be fighting at all," Tonks said firmly, her true feelings of the matter coming out.
"Recovery is a battle," Remus sighed, looking out to the direction where Ron took Harry. "But it doesn't have to be one fought alone."
Hermione's stomach twisted uncomfortably as she ate her breakfast, feeling awkward to be sat alone with Remus and Tonks, as if she was imposing. She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if Ron was coping well with helping Harry out. Ron was so thrilled to have his best friend back, safe, that he didn't think to take things slowly. He didn't think that Harry might be too ill or too traumatised to jump right back into their mission. It was a rude awakening for Ron. But then, he hadn't seen Harry when he first woke up.
He had been utterly terrified.
And then again, when he woke up from the nightmare in the night. He had cried out in pain. His scar hurting…
"Remus… last night," Hermione turned in her seat, looking directly at him, "Harry had a nightmare and his scar… it was hurting him."
Remus looked alarmed. "Did anything happen?"
"I don't know. He… didn't say anything about it, but he was definitely having a nightmare. It didn't last and… I think Harry would have said if he thought he was in danger."
Giving a short, harsh sigh, Remus turned to look out the window. "Okay…good. Well… it's not good that Harry was in pain. Hmm… Harry needs to learn to close his mind before we do much else. You and Ron as well." Hermione looked over, surprised. "And perhaps even learn legilimency. Being able to glean your opponent's next move is an incredible advantage in a duel."
"Aren't we getting a bit ahead of ourselves? Harry's only just got out of bed and you want him to learn advanced mind magics?" Tonks said, giving her husband a pointed stare.
"Perhaps," Remus was staring outside, his eyes glazing over, "but he needs to learn to shield himself. I don't want to have to stun him if the worst happens."
"He managed to push him out before." Tonks said softly, worried.
"Yes but his mind needs to be so impenetrable that he doesn't get the chance to break into his mind in the first place. I know a bit about the theory. My meditations after my transformations are similar, from what I gather. Closing the mind, disconnecting memories. I think he was doing something similar when he blocked his mind while we were heading to the tunnel."
Hermione glanced over her shoulder, feeling a spike of shame for talking about Harry when he was only a room away. She had got used to talking about him, discussing him. It felt impersonal and dishonest. She shifted, uncomfortable, knowing that she had started it.
"Shall I clean up? I think everyone's finished?" She said awkwardly, standing. Remus caught her pinked cheeks.
"I'll sort it out, Hermione." Tonks said, smiling.
"You cooked!"
"Then how about you sort out lunch?"
"Oh… yes, sure. I can do that. Happy to." Hermione smiled, glad that Tonks was relinquishing her duty as chef.
She hovered at her chair, realising that she had no idea what she wanted to do.
Harry. Check on Harry.
She excused herself, telling them that she wanted to carry on her research outside and needed to fetch her books. She would get around to that eventually, but wanted to take a detour to the downstairs bathroom where Ron and Harry had disappeared into. She wasn't planning on intruding, but part of her was worried about Harry being alone with Ron, especially after what had happened yesterday when Ron inadvertently triggered Harry to use his magic subconsciously.
Ron's voice, deeper than Harry's, was audible before she cautiously reached the door to check on the pair.
"...got you. Do you need to get closer?"
"Hmmph… no," Harry's voice was quieter but clear through the slightly ajar doorway. "You could use a levitation charm if you want… I don't mind."
"Nah, it's okay. I can hold you."
Hermione, realising what was going on, quickly left the boys to it.
The two boys were both fiercely red the entire time. It was soon a contest of who was the most embarrassed. Harry muttered his apologies to Ron. Ron mumbled that it was fine, that Harry would do the same for him if their roles were reversed. He assured him that it was no more than he'd seen while sharing a dormitory. Which, while was true, didn't assuage Harry's embarrassment. True, they had seen each other in the nude while accidentally catching each other in the shower, but it was hardly the same as being helped to use the toilet.
Eventually, they figured out the best way to get to business. Ron held Harry under the armpits, supporting his full weight while Harry sorted himself out. Ron pointedly kept his stare away. Once finished, Harry cleared his throat and readjusted himself. Ron carefully helped him back into the chair.
Harry risked putting his weight on his feet for a moment, but his legs shook violently and he let Ron support him fully. He wasn't ready to stand yet. He didn't fancy collapsing in an attempt to walk himself and set back his recovery further. He lowered down into the chair, giving his best friend a grateful look.
"I… know this is super awkward… for us both. I really appreciate it," Harry said, "everything. Not just…you know, helping me piss."
"You know you're a pal with someone if they trust you enough to help them piss."
"Is that how it works?" Harry smirked.
Ron pushed him over to the sink and Harry went to wash his hands, but raised his head, freezing at once as he looked at his reflection. His mouth dropped open, eyes going wide, as he saw the state of his eyes.
"Ron…" his voice was hoarse, "my eyes… they…they're red."
He'd seen eyes like it before. In Dumbledore's pensieve. The memory of Tom Riddle returning to Hogwarts to request the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. His face had been metamorphosing, transitioning into the snake-like visage of the present. His face had been waxy, ashen, sickly. And his eyes… had been washed red. Just like Harry's were.
"It'll fade, mate. They look better than they were when we found you."
"Huh?" Harry looked over his shoulder in the mirror's reflection. "What…oh." He remembered now. A memory of Rookwood's hand lifting his chin upwards, peering into his eyes to check for something. The strain.
He wasn't turning Dark. His eyes were bloodshot from being tortured with the Cruciatus Curse. For days.
Is that better or worse? Having such a visible sign of what he had been through made him feel dizzy. A sign that Ron and Hermione had instantly seen when they saved him. No wonder Hermione had looked at him with such horror.
He turned his face, gaze going on his fading bruises. The one over his eye was more greenish and yellow than the bruising over his nose and cheeks. A faint pink mark slashed over his brow. A scar from where he had been beaten. His lips were healed, still a little chapped by not full of sores as they had been. Ghosts of the welts across his cheeks were visible.
"I must have looked like shit when you found me," Harry mumbled, touching his cheek tentatively with his left hand. As he did, he caught sight of his finger, the one without the nail. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but appeared to change his mind. Harry looked down at his shirt, seeing a red mark poking through the neckline. Cautiously, glancing in the mirror at Ron, he lifted up his shirt and drew in a sharp breath. His chest was a patchwork of bruising.
Sabor's face was splotchy with red, his beady eyes burning furiously, sweat shining on his forehead from the exertion. He drew back the bludgeon. Harry knew what to do, having endured enough beatings in his time. He tensed his stomach, but the man wasn't going for his abdomen. The impact cracked into his chest, sending splinters of hot pain through his ribs. His back slammed into the wall. His gasp of pain strained against his sealed lips, but he didn't falter. He glared at his attacker, clenching his left hand in a fist. He could taste blood.
Slowly, Harry brought up his right hand, touching a patch of skin that was bright red. Not a bruise. It looked like a cluster of burst blood vessels. It was tender to the touch. He noticed other patches like it. Some were larger than others.
"Harry…"
Ron's voice was quiet. Harry looked up, meeting his stare in the mirror. Ron looked utterly devastated.
"I'm so sorry."
Harry dropped his shirt back down.
"What for?"
"We…I should have gone back." Ron's eyes, to his horror, were starting to dew with tears. "I know…what you'll say. You said it on that recording, but…I've been playing it over and over in my head. We could have got you away. Done something."
Harry sighed. "I messed up, Ron. It's on me, not you. I panicked and got myself disarmed by some random Ministry worker. I should have run or blasted a hole out of the wall… not just stand there and persuade a bunch of terrified people that they should be on my side." He groaned, putting his hand on his head.
"We could have given you cover to get out…"
"And get yourself stuck in there with me?" Harry shook his head. "Yaxley would have called him there and then the moment you guys would have returned. Alone I was hardly a threat. I barely put up a fight." His voice was bitter, his eyes hollow. "If you had come back…sure, maybe we could have battled our way out, but we could have also all been captured and delivered straight to Voldemort."
A flicker of fear entered Harry's gaze when he said the name, fear that never used to be there whenever he brazenly used the name of his enemy. He stifled it, looking up instead to Ron, his gaze turning determined.
"I…suppose," Ron sighed, "but don't you go blaming yourself either."
"I can't promise that," Harry said heavily, "but…look, I made a mistake. I own that. If you want to feel bad about not coming back for me, that's up to you, but I don't blame you at all. Okay? I never once thought that you threw me to the dogs or whatever. I just…" He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "The thought that you were both safe was the only thing keeping me going."
Ron met his stare.
"This is a very heavy conversation to have after I just saw your dick."
Harry snorted out a laugh. "You started it."
"You… don't mind? I…pushed you too far yesterday. I wasn't thinking…"
"Well, sure it sucks to talk about it but I don't want you to go around thinking that this…" He gestured to his face, his eyes in particular, "is on you. Because it's not."
Ron bobbed his head, his ears bright red. He gave a husky sigh and smiled sheepishly. "Well anyway, we probably should get out of here. They might think I've dropped you down the toilet or something."
Agreeing fiercely to get out of the bathroom and away from the conversation topic, Harry gave his best friend a firm nod, glancing back to look at his reflection before Ron manoeuvred him around. His eyes appeared even more green than usual set back to a background of pink and red. He looked away from the stark sign of how much pain he had been forced to endure. As he shifted, his back spasmed and he gave a quiet sigh.
"So what do you want to do?" Ron asked him as they emerged in the entrance hall.
"Uh… well. I'm a bit limited to activities…" Harry mumbled.
"Oh, right. Uh. How about we go outside? It's pretty warm out. Oh… where did Hermione go?" They reached the kitchen. Tonks was cleaning up the dishes. Both Hermione and Remus were nowhere to be found.
"She's just upstairs. Said she'll be going outside in a bit."
"Oh right." Ron said. "Let's go out there then."
Carefully resting his arms on the rests of his chair, Harry tried to relax as Ron pushed him towards the patio doors in the kitchen. He noticed that he felt a lot better after eating a full meal. He felt more alert and awake, the bone-weary tiredness that he felt when he had woken the day before was retreating. He still felt tired and lethargic, but it was a physical sensation. His mind was alert, sharper.
Which was a problem.
I fouled up so badly. I'm a liability. Weak… stupid…
Stop it. You panicked. You were outnumbered… taken by surprise.
I didn't think! I was stupid. Everyone risked their lives to get me out of there because of my stupid mistake. Remus could have died! He nearly did… and Arthur. And Ron and Hermione.
That didn't happen.
Maybe everyone got out by sheer luck, but it doesn't change that everyone is in hiding, in constant danger. The Weasleys wouldn't be marked. Sure, they were being watched, but now they're all wanted. And Tonks! She's expecting. I'm not just putting her in danger, but her and Remus's child… they should be safely out of the picture, not with me. Not in exile.
Ron wheeled him out through the doorway. As the sun touched his skin, he snapped out of his destructive thought pattern. He blinked, looking around him, the vibrant colours of his surroundings filling his vision with his idyllic reality that was at violent odds with the despair that was eating him up inside. His gaze rested on the seaview rolling out before him and his mind went still.
It sparkled. It was so beautiful. He sucked in a shaky breath, fixing his gaze on the patch of the ocean where the sun glittered on the distant waves.
Ron brought them over to the edge of the veranda where there was a plain wood table set out with a few chairs set about. Judging from their messy positions, they had been occupied before. He brought Harry to a stop at the table.
"There's a herb garden down there." Ron said, gesturing to a patch of dark earth just out of sight. "And an olive grove, but the charms end at the fence. We're still concealed on the veranda, so there's no need to stay cooped up inside. Unlike at Grimmauld Place."
Harry raised his head, looking up at the brilliant blue sky. Had the sky ever been so deep and blue before?
"I'll put up the parasol. I'm burning already. Bloody Weasley skin…" Ron went to put the shade up. Harry looked down at his bare arms. He managed to get a slight tan while at the Dursleys, doing the usual garden chores, but it had faded pretty fast. The black hairs on his arms shone in the sun. He ran his fingers over his arm, feeling the heat of the sun already radiating from his skin. His eyes went down to the bandages around his wrist, travelling to the underside of his arm.
Fingers gently caressed his skin, stroking irregular patterns, tracing so softly, so soothingly.
"Ah, there we go." Ron unfurled the parasol, rubbing his hands together, pleased with himself. "Phew. It's hot." He put a hand to his head. "It's a good job that the Delacours left clothes here…feel a bit awkward wearing another bloke's clothes, but I'd be melting in jeans." Harry looked over, gaze dropping to the shorts that Ron was wearing.
"Whose clothes are these?" He asked, putting a hand on his shirt.
"No clue but Fleur said we were welcome to use whatever we found."
"It's…very generous of them," Harry said quietly, looking out to the sea again. "It's kinda overwhelming."
"Yeah…doesn't feel real. Been here nearly three days and it still blows my mind that we're here and not hiding in some shack in the middle of a wood, expecting to be attacked at any moment."
"Huh…yeah," Harry picked at his bandage. "I definitely wasn't expecting this… well, I don't know what I expected."
"Oh good! You're out here already!" Hermione's bright voice exclaimed from behind. At the sound of her voice, Harry turned in his chair, triggering a chain reaction of spasms down his back. He gasped, gripping at the hand rest at the sudden pain. The spasms were less frequent but still painful. He saw the books in her hands.
"Oh bloody hell Hermione. Can't we have one day off?" Ron burst out.
"If you want to sit around and mope in the sun, be my guest. I think that while we have this downtime, I should make use of it. I've still got eight chapters to read…
Harry sat still, listening to his friends, struggling to compartmentalise. He looked down at his right hand, flexing it a little before putting it on the wheel rail and testing the pressure. It hurt. He debated gripping anyway, so determined to move himself around, he didn't much care about hurting himself. But then, risking permanent damage to his already very damaged hand seemed careless. He'd had all the bones shattered in it only a few days ago before being healed brutally. And that was before having the skin melted off by Voldemort's wand.
Voldemort's wand…
I have Voldemort's wand. I used it… I tried to kill him…
He glanced in the direction of the house to where he gathered the windows to his bedroom were.
It's in that room. It was right next to me the whole time. Just feet away.
Ron had plonked himself in a chair opposite Harry, poking at his bare arm. His skin looked a bit pink.
"There's a chess set if you wanted to have a game?"
Harry snapped his attention to Ron.
"Oh…um," he glanced over at the books that Hermione had brought out with her. She set the books down, glancing cautiously over at Harry. She positioned them as far from him as possible. He glanced over, recognising the tomes as the ones that she had taken from Dumbledore, the ones that she poured over when they managed to sneak a moment alone in the Burrow to talk about their mission. About the horcruxes.
The horcrux.
The locket.
Immediately, he thought of the nightmare that tormented him. Images from it flickered over his conscious mind, like vivid snapshots, too vivid. He could see Dumbledore's disappointed, haggard face, his cracked spectacles, the icy blue eyes so hollow without their twinkle. He could see the locket, waiting on the desk, so innocent, so devastatingly innocent. How could one object be the cause of so much suffering? Mental and physical. The thought of it alone… his pain was like splinters of glass in his mind making it impossible to think of anything else.
"Harry?" Ron's voice brought him into the present. He blinked, seeing his friend watching him with unguarded worry. He realised that Ron had asked him something.
"Oh sorry. Yeah sure."
Ron beamed. "Brilliant. I'll go get the set…" He scrambled up from his chair, eager to be doing something. Harry watched him leave, feeling unease. His mind was a mess. He really wasn't in the frame of mind to play a game of chess and do something so… normal. He noticed Hermione settling down, opening up the book of choice. He looked up at her, his attention catching on something glinting around her neck in the sun. He squinted. It was a silver chain.
She was wearing the locket.
It was right there. His breath caught in his throat, choking out in a harsh gasp that immediately caught Hermione's attention. She looked up sharply, seeing his pale face and wide eyes. She followed his stare, her hand going up to the chain around her neck. Her mouth dropped open and they met stares.
"You're wearing the horcrux," Harry said numbly. His thoughts were cascading in a turbulent mess of panic, fear and guilt.
Hermione didn't say anything. She rested a hand where the locket was concealed under her blouse. Her cheeks pinked, her eyes going bright. Slowly, she drew it out. Harry flinched as he saw the silver and green, proof that it was there. The locket of Slytherin. A flicker of disgust morphed Hermione's features as she touched it briefly, leaving it to settle in full view.
"You've not found a way to destroy it." Her gaze dipped from his.
"We…well…were preoccupied with planning the breakout…"
"Oh…" Of course. He hadn't thought about how much planning must have gone into the breakout. Flashes of what he had seen fluttered through his mind. The bright fireworks. The matching robes that his rescuers wore. The disguises that Remus and Kingsley wore. The charmed retreat bracelets.
They went to such lengths to help me. I don't deserve it… I don't deserve them.
"But now… we can work on it. There are some curses that I'm yet to try. I came across mentions of fiendfyre, but there's no countercurse so it's impossible to control. If we could contain it somehow, we could try it, but I don't think we should experiment with magic that…well…destructive."
He looked at the horcrux. He felt a shock of dread rip through him, making him feel instantly nauseated. He looked away, heart racing.
"I don't think you should be wearing it. I…can feel it from here." He said, swallowing as bile rose to his throat. Hermione gave him a puzzled look, her fingers going up to touch it.
"You can feel it?"
"Yeah it…" He cringed. "It feels like him."
Hermione watched him, her eyes wide, then she slowly lifted the chain from around her neck and set the horcrux down on the table. Harry shot a side-glance at it. The emeralds sparkled in the sun. He felt another pulse of dread, his palms sweating.
"It… it's evil," he said.
"Hopefully we can find a way to destroy it. If… you don't mind talking about it, of course. If it's too soon…"
"We've been talking about it already. Bit late for that now," Harry said heavily, "and it's not like I can avoid the big elephant in the room."
He lifted his hand to his forehead, finger tracing over his scar.
"He knows by now. Because of me."
Hermione sighed. "It's not your fault-."
"Isn't it? Sure, it was forced out of me, but I was in that situation in the first place because I messed up. Yes… okay, being pulled out of apparation was bad luck, but after that… when the potion wore off… I didn't do anything. I could have gotten away - but I didn't. I just froze."
Hermione was out of her seat immediately. He doubled over as his guilt and shame took over. All the while, the locket glittered, the ominous presence reminding him of his nightmare, the bitter disappointment in his deceased mentor's gaze.
"I'm so sorry." The words broke out of him.
Hermione knelt at his side, her hand sliding behind him and rubbing down his back. At her touch, the wall broke. His control shattered. He heaved out a sob. He brought his arms around himself in a gesture that he hadn't made in a long time. Comforting himself. Tears blurred his vision as he succumbed to his emotions.
"I can't stop thinking about it," he mumbled.
"I know," Hermione said softly, "but you need to. Dwelling on it is only causing you pain. It doesn't change what happened and it certainly doesn't help."
Harry lifted his head, meeting her gaze. She continued.
"I wish… I could go back and change things. We all do. Maybe if I listened to Ron, for once, and had gone back for you, we could have got you out of there, but I… didn't. I disconnected." Her eyes took on a hollow look. "We could have gotten you out of there… but then we could have also been captured with you. There are so many variables, so many different outcomes, but we have to live with the one that happened. Yes, maybe you froze and panicked, but Harry, you're not a veteran auror. You reacted as best you could in the circumstances."
He listened, tears streaming down his cheeks. He sobbed a couple of times, then brought his hand to wipe at his face. He had never broken down like this in front of his friends, or anyone.
"As for the horcrux and the mission, we just take it a day at a time, while we can." She removed her hand from his back and hovered for a moment, staring at his face. He gave a sniff, glancing at her. He remembered being in the cell, hearing her voice coming through the wall.
Please, please don't blame yourself for any of this. I know how you shoulder blame so you can cope, but you have enough to deal with without beating yourself up about it. You were on your own, surrounded by enemies, and from the sounds of what Mr Weasley said, very outnumbered.
He looked at her properly through his tears.
I can't do this without her.
The thought popped into his head just as he heard a clatter behind him. He turned sharply, causing spasms to ripple down his back. He saw Ron bustling over, holding a large box, grinning proudly. Ron caught sight of Harry's tear-stained face and immediately faltered, gaze going between Harry and Hermione, who was on her knees at his side.
"Um…you both okay?"
"Harry thinks that it's his fault that he got arrested." Harry opened his mouth to protest.
"Yeah… because he's a prat."
"Hey!"
"You called me a prat. It's only fair."
"It was justified."
"So's this." Ron put the chess set down on the table, then turned to face Harry, folding his arms and throwing up an obstinate expression. Harry glanced between them, then sighed.
"Fine. I'm a prat." He uncomfortably went to dry his face with his bandaged hand, aware of both friends watching him. He drank in the sight of them, feeling the great pressure in his chest ease a little. They didn't blame him. He could see it. No disappointment. No accusatory looks.
Ron then noticed that the horcrux was out on the table in plain view. His jaw dropped.
"Um, I thought we were going to wait…"
"It's fine. I… kinda noticed it," Harry said awkwardly. "Um… well, it's definitely the real thing this time."
"That's a relief," Ron said, his voice a bit high from his shock. "Mate… you sure this isn't too soon?"
"I have to face it sooner or later."
Hermione rose from her position at Harry's side, rubbing at her knees where she had been kneeling on the hard ground.
"If… if you're sure…"
Harry sighed. "It's done. Besides, hiding it from me isn't going to make me just suddenly forget why we're here in the first place." Ron looked very uncomfortable and shared a look with Hermione. "I'm not going to lie and say that it's not painful for me. It is. I look at that and… well…I think about the cost. Regulus… Dumbledore… Merlin, even Umbridge. And it could have been me too, and you two. But what can I do? I can't go back and change what happened." He then shared a look with Hermione. "The only thing we can do is go forward."
He looked down at himself, sat in his wheelchair, trembling. He was tired, weak, his head was aching. His stomach felt uncomfortable from the first full meal that he had eaten in days. He felt wrung out, emotionally and physically. He sighed and raised his head, finding Ron opposite him.
"So… how about that game of chess?"
After being successfully thrashed by Ron three times over, Harry decided that he was now not only emotionally exhausted, but mentally too. He couldn't concentrate. His gaze kept settling on a spot to the left of Ron's ear, his mind going blank. He kept missing what was being said to him.
"Harry, do you want to lie down for a bit?" Hermione asked him, peering over her book to see his vacant expression. He snapped back into the present, his head feeling heavy. He nodded. He was tired.
"There are some recliners if you'd like to stay outside… though you might want to stay in the shade. Don't want to burn," Hermione said to him.
"Ron's the one that burns to a crisp in the sun," he pointed out. Ron scowled, rubbing his arm where his skin was already pink.
"Just wait until you're as red as a quaffle. I'll have the last laugh."
Before long, he was stretched out, his chair parked next to him, blearily staring up at the sky and feeling his eyelids getting heavy. He tested his legs, bending his knees and bringing them up to his chest. Movement was stiff and cumbersome, but it was the most he managed to move. Feeling elated at the success, he let himself relax and close his eyes, wiggling his toes. Every small movement felt like an achievement, another step away from the hell he had escaped from and towards the future.
Then suddenly pain stabbed into his head. He cried out, sitting upright, his semi-paralysis breaking as adrenaline flushed through him. His stomach and back spasmed at the sudden movement and his hand clamped onto his forehead.
"Harry?" Hermione's panicked voice. "Oh… no… Ron."
A smell hit him, acrid… revolting. It crawled down his throat. He gagged. And then as fast as it came, it was gone. His head was pulsing with pain and the anger dissipated, leaving him dazed, shaking.
"Breathe… it's okay. We're here."
He lowered his hand from his scar, taking in another breath, coughing. He blinked, seeing Hermione sat with him, her face ashen. Terrified.
"What… did you see?" Ron asked. He was standing next to him.
"Nothing…" Harry said roughly, "just… a smell? It was really quick. Almost like… like he let his guards down. I think he's using occlumency."
"He's blocking you?"
"Well, it's definitely not me blocking him." Harry coughed, feeling sick. Hermione's eyes went wide.
"When… your scar hurt last night, did you see anything then?" He looked over at her and eased himself back down on the recliner, wincing at the discomfort as his muscles reacted to the movement painfully.
"Uh…" He considered her question. "No… it was a nightmare." He saw Hermione's horrified expression. "It's not what you think."
"He's sent you dreams before."
"Not like that he hasn't." He sighed. "It's hard to explain. When I see something from him, it's from his perspective. My nightmare was from my perspective. I suppose he could… fabricate it, make it seem like it's my dream, but he's not done that before and… truth be told, if he was going to go to that much effort, getting in my head, he would try to find out where we are or make me do something. I doubt he'd just send me nightmares for a laugh."
"I think it sounds exactly like something he'd do," Hermione said in a low, scared voice. "You need to learn how to close your mind, Harry."
"You think I don't know that?" He snapped. Her mouth closed. He sighed. "It terrifies me… to think that at any moment, he can open up the connection and attack me. I guess if it does happen, you'll have to stun me. Thankfully it's pretty obvious when he does it… you… saw it." He looked up at Hermione. Judging from her pale, withdrawn expression, she was thinking about it.
"But you did something… back when we were running to the breach," Ron said slowly. "You blocked him out."
Harry remembered, sighing harshly. "I didn't even know that it would work." He swallowed. "I did something similar when Rookwood was…" His breath caught in his throat as he could see a pair of black, intense eyes boring into his.
I wonder…Potter… are you aware that you have blocked your mind?
He shivered, his skin crawling. He could feel the biting metal, the incessant ache in his shoulders. His muscles trembled with the memory of torture, of pain so devastating that he threw himself down the connection in a desperate gamble to escape his torment, only to make things so much worse for himself. The horror of the recollection took him outside his present, his heart thundering in his ears as he disconnected completely.
All mind magics require an exceptional degree of focus and self-discipline. You are at your most focused when the stakes are at their highest. When it's life or death.
He could hear Rookwood so clearly. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up to attention. He was holding his breath still, shaking.
"Harry, it's okay. You're not there. You're with us." Her warm hand brushed against his arm. At the contact, he blinked and saw her.
"Sorry…" He said quietly and swallowed.
"Don't apologise," Hermione said softly, "we don't have to talk about it. Especially if it makes you think about that." That. A loaded word that dropped from her and fell between them. A word that made both her and Ron looked into Harry's eyes and see the scarring in the whites of his eyes. A word that sent memories of red flashes through Harry's mind and made his stomach clench as he recalled the sounds of his own screams.
Ron shifted awkwardly. Hermione sighed softly and looked out at the view, her expression sad as her hand hovered near Harry's, as if contemplating taking it and comforting him. Harry rested his head against the recliner, wishing he could clear his mind at will and stop the turbulent thoughts that were racing around.
"I think I'm… going to get some rest," Harry said after a moment. "I feel pretty tired."
"I'm not surprised." Hermione said. "I'll only be over there. Please say if you need anything. Don't try to get up on your own. You still might accidentally use your magic and wear yourself out."
"I know…" Harry groaned.
"Oh… well then. I think I might try to fix up that old wireless and see if I can get it to sync to the Potterwatch frequency."
Harry's eyes had partly closed until he heard that word.
"What did you say?"
"Huh? Oh, of course… you… you wouldn't know. Fred, George and Lee set up a radio station, a secret one. You need a passcode to tune into the frequency, though spies listen in too so they're careful. Anyway, it's how we got the word out so fast about you so our lot could get into hiding before they could intercept our messages. One transmission did the trick."
Harry looked at him in surprise. "That's… pretty clever."
"Yeah. They used it to spread the truth - that you actually were on a mission and fighting the fight, not some crazed murderer."
"Huh… well that's appreciated."
"Anyway, there's an old wireless here but I don't think it's been used in a while. I did some fiddling, but I don't have my dad's knack for gadgets. I'll still give it a go. We are kinda far so hoping the signal reaches. Either way, we might be able to tune into other stations and find out what's going on."
"Sounds… like a plan," Harry said, mid-yawn. Ron nodded.
"I'll get to it. You… just rest."
Harry nodded back, closing his eyes. He felt Ron's shadow leave him, listening to his departing footsteps before huffing out a sigh. Tears pricked in his eyes for a moment, but they weren't tears of sorrow. It was overwhelming. Hearing about the support, the lengths that his friends went to. He didn't deserve it… the Boy-who-lived deserved it, the Chosen one. But he was Harry, the weakened, injured boy with a head full of trauma and a depleted magical core. He felt like a sham.
Yet memories poked at him. The force of the patronus that erupted out the stolen wand as he burst out of the Row, dementors scattering, fleeing. The swell of his rage when he faced Yaxley in that chamber, the magic that surged through him, sustaining him. Then the vertigo he felt when he cast the deadliest spell in existence, seeing the deep green magic… deeper than any killing curse he had seen before. Why had it been so deep? Was it because it wasn't powerful enough?
He settled his head down, his breathing slowing. He peered down his nose, seeing the table where Hermione was sat. Her head was bowed over a book. Beside her was a notepad and pen. Muggle stationery. Quills were pretty inconvenient for travel, after all.
Hermione studying was such a familiar sight, it put him at ease. He relaxed, retreating back… back into the realm he despised. The realm of nightmares.
His world was one of ice and pain. Something hot dripped on his lip.
"You cannot dodge me forever, Potter. Five seconds is all you have so let us try again. Why did you and your accomplices break into the Ministry?"
He had run out of things to say. His jaw was slack. His breath was ice. Then it hit. He cried out before his voice was ripped away.
"I was after Lord Voldemort's horcrux."
His tears were hot. He choked on his failure, shattering.
"Oh…God…ahhh!" The purge tortured him for speaking, but he needed the pain, the punishment. He had just betrayed everyone.
"We are getting somewhere… and I will excuse your use of the Lord's name, but speak it willingly and you will suffer."
Harry wasn't listening. He had sunk down to his knees.
"Ah… this was quite the confession, I see. So, Potter, where is this horcrux now?"
"I… I don't know…"
"Oh a truth… you might have some ideas?"
"No…ahhAHHH GRIMMAULD PLACE."
"What is Grimmauld Place?"
"Just a safe house, it's unimport- AHH! It's the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix…NO!"
"Harry… oh sorry, you were asleep."
Harry gasped awake in relief. Warmth… he felt warm. Not cold. He wasn't there, chained to the quaesitor. He was…
On a recliner, looking out at the mediterranean ocean, in shorts. He took stock of his situation quickly, noting that he wasn't in immediate danger, then went to confront who had woken him up. Remus was leaning over him. He made a strange gargle in his throat and then swallowed.
"I…er… what's the time?"
"Around 1ish. Hermione's fixing lunch."
"I…was asleep? That long?"
"You needed the rest." Remus then brought his hand up to Harry's face and brushed his hand against his cheek. Harry went still, watching, confused. Remus smiled at him. "I'm heading off."
"Oh?" He blinked, realising what Remus meant. He focused on the older man, seeing then the silvery cloak draped over his arm. His invisibility cloak. "Oh."
"I'm just going to check on the nearest town and scout around the area, but… I wanted to check on you before going."
"You didn't have to-."
"I did anyway," Remus's smile quirked up, "I'll be back later… maybe Ron will fix the wireless by then."
"Maybe…"
"Just please… don't push yourself. You don't need to prove yourself to us. We all… well… I know how brave you are and so do your friends."
Harry closed his eyes for a moment, considering the words.
"They don't know, do they?"
"About what?"
"The… wand. What… I did."
Remus's smile faltered.
"No. Between us, Kingsley and Arthur and I, we decided that it was up to you to share what happened."
Harry felt a lump in his throat. The loyalty from the three adults, grown men… defending him. His eyes warmed.
"I…thank you."
"We can talk about it when you're ready but… just know…" Remus's voice softened and he leaned closer, so close that Harry felt his breath on his cheek, "your mum and dad would be so proud of you and I know…they would never judge you for doing what you had to do to survive."
Harry gasped out, the words hitting home. He swallowed a couple of times, holding back the tears, then gave Remus a nod, his eyes shining. Remus's eyes were glittering as well.
"Rest up, little Prongs." He said softly. His hand went around the back of Harry's head, lightly supporting it for a moment. Harry registered the contact.
"I'll… do my best," he managed to say, his eyes wide, "you… called me that before."
"Hmm Sirius and I called you that when you were a baby. Drove James mad."
"You… saw me as a baby." Harry took in Remus properly.
"I did more than see you. I held you… you were so fidgety." Remus's eyes warmed. "We can talk more when I'm back. I owe you that much, Harry. I…" He sighed. "We'll talk more. Just rest up."
"Okay…Moony."
AN: We'll be going places soon, I promise. I just want some more interaction with everyone, even if it's boring.