Life and Love
Chapter Two: Happiness and Sorrow
Disclaimer: These delightful characters belong to Joanne Rowling, who should let me enter her brain, steal the plots for the next books, and allow me to write the next ones with my own ideas in mind. Because if she doesn't make them Harry/Hermione, I might find that I don't like the books quite as much anymore.
Author's Notes: Forgive me for using other's ideas…I know, I know, I'm guilty…But I had this in my head for quite a while and then people started posting things about it, so really, I'm just catching on a little late. Sorry! Quite a few people have written about James Potter coming back, but this one is just adapted to my ideas. But rest assured, it's not entirely about his so-called "re-birth," that's just one of the events in the story. And…um…info! You have to realize that Harry was having quite some problems…and the book he found has a lot to do with that! But you'll hear more about that later…And I'm trying to stray away from the whole predictable thing. I think I'm failing miserably. The whole Harry/Hermione romance is twisted too…and all you Harry/Cho and Ron/Hermione shippers will get your taste but not for long! And…um…this story is mainly about how Harry is coming to terms with the fact that people actually love him…AND I DIDN'T MEAN TO RATE IT G!!!
Summary: Harry Potter, sixth year hero, is still fighting against many battles. His alliances are trying all they can to keep him stable, but complications are coming up instantaneously. Voldemort is back for Harry's blood, the media is a living nightmare, and James Potter is back…
SIRIUS'S POV
Sirius Black flipped through the many pages in The Guide to Avada Kedavra, occasionally sighing and shaking his head. He was in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for Harry come down for breakfast. It was only six o'clock in the morning, but they had a schedule that they always kept ever since Sirius became a professor at Hogwarts. They liked to have time on their own, where no living being could interrupt them.
Earlier, he had seen Harry rushing from the boy's dormitory with a purpose, failing to see Sirius performing some strange charms in the middle of the night. Sirius supposed he feel asleep when Harry came back, but Ron had gotten up a few hours late of that, claiming he hadn't seen Harry come back. Presently, as Sirius watched Hermione come into to common room, he became quite baffled, owing to the knowledge that he had resigned to the fact that Harry had gone out last night to meet Hermione somewhere.
"Oh, good morning, Sirius!" she exclaimed brightly, clearly in a good mood.
"Hi, Hermione. You haven't any idea where Harry went off to, have you?"
Her eyebrows creased. "No," she said slowly, "Why? You haven't seen him at all?"
"No," he quickly said as to not worry her, "I just wondering if you knew. I'm not worried; I'm sure he's still sleeping."
Hermione looked thoughtful. For a moment they just sat there, but Hermione abruptly headed towards the boy's dorm. She came back a few minutes later, looking quite pale. "He wasn't up there," she said. Sirius nodded, his own lips forming into a frown.
"Well, keep an eye out for him. I'm going to be working on these charms."
She nodded briefly and strode towards the portrait hole. "Well," she said, "I'll be in the forest for a bit doing some things for Hagrid, if you find him. Please hurry and tell me, I'm quite worried."
"I will, Hermione," he said sincerely.
With that, she left Sirius to concentrate on his book.
~*~
Hours later, Sirius had shifted his spot in the common room to the teacher's headquarters, where privacy could be ensured. His yearlong attempt to bring a dead person to the present, not necessarily to life, was almost complete. He had been working on this in secret, wishing to surprise Harry for his graduation. The charm was not permanent, but Sirius was sure Harry would appreciate getting to know his father all the same. Remus was just in the dark as Harry was, and no one truly knew if the charms really worked. Well, Sirius thought, let's find out…
With a whoosh of Sirius's wand, a head popped out of the ground. He was astonished how much it was like seeing Peter Pettigrew become forced into human shape from a rat. The black-haired head was soon resting on broad shoulders…then a torso grew and finally, long legs sprouted from the floor.
James Potter was standing in front of Sirius Black looking just as he had the last time Sirius had seen him sixteen years ago, only, well, alive.
"J-James," Sirius gasped.
The six-foot figure grinned sideways, and cocked an eyebrow. His bright blue eyes were twinkling. James glanced around the room, then grinned at his best friend again. "Well," he said, "Say something, you smarmy bloke."
"H-hi," he managed. James shook his head a rolled his eyes with his hands on his hips. "Padfoot, you just brought me back to life and you can't say one single word to me? How disappointing."
Sirius just gaped at him, tears welling in his eyes. He rushed towards James and gave him a backbreaking hug, worse even than Hagrid's big bear hugs.
"God, James, I've missed you so much…" he said as he stepped back. "And wait until you see Harry, he's so old now, and brave…"
"I know," James said.
"What – you – "
"No, I just know he turned out wonderfully. Anyone raised by you – "
Sirius cut him off. "I didn't raise him," he said in a barely audible voice.
"Why not?" James asked, frowning.
"They sent me straight to Azkaban without a trial. They only just caught Peter…I went to prison for twelve years, and have been on the run ever since. But I'll tell you about that later…I want to talk about Harry."
James suddenly looked very sad. "Can I see him?" he asked seriously.
Just as Sirius was nodding and opening his mouth to speak, a strangled scream forced their attention elsewhere. They bolted out of the room into the entrance hall.
JAMES'S POV
James stumbled out of the room into the Hogwarts entrance hall to find a girl with long brown hair crouched over a wet figure in a black cloak. Madam Pomfrey, who looked a lot older than when James last saw her, was standing over the two people with her hands over her mouth and her eyes as wide as saucers. She was the one who screamed.
Sirius backed against the wall, his head hitting one of the flaming torches. It fell to the ground and promptly burnt out. He slid to the floor with a hand over his mouth.
James stood, confused, his eyes tracking the many people appearing from behind doors and flowing down the marble staircase. Soon, the entire hall was full of students clad in black. None of them looked twice at James, but only focused their attention on the three people directly in his range of vision. The entire scene was frozen in front of his eyes.
"Oh dear God," Sirius gasped, and struggled to get to the middle of the room. Most were reluctant to move, but after Sirius snarled at them, they swiftly cleared his way. As James trailed behind Sirius, he just initiated to ask what had happened when he saw the cloaked figure. It was nauseating.
Behind the panicked girl was a boy of about sixteen, almost six feet tall. His cloak was hooded in white frost and covered most of his body. As James moved closer, he saw a face, the most sorrowful and dolorous face he had ever seen. It was so ashen that the sickening color almost seemed to radiate around him. Similar to the icy cloak, freeze layered his eyelashes and eyebrows, turning them almost as white as his skin. The boy's purple lips no longer hinted that any blood was still there. They were just arid and pale, so horrid and revolting that James could hardly stand to look at them.
His eyes moved downward, towards the dark-haired boy's white hands that stood out so boldly among the mass of black. His stomach retched.
Red.
Black.
White.
He was in the Hospital Wing. He barely glimpsed Madam Pomfrey before passing out again.
"Oh God, Sirius, I can't look at him…I can't look at him…oh God…what're we going to do?"
Girl.
"Hermione, calm down, he's all right."
Sirius.
"NO! HE'S NOT ALL BLOODY RIGHT!" the girl named Hermione screamed. "Look at him!" she barely gasped, out of breath from screaming so loudly before. James heard dry, wheezing sobs, and then the sound of Sirius scraping his chair back to go comfort her.
"S-Sirius," James mumbled faintly. He heard two automatic gasps, and footsteps. While squinting his eyes, he could make out two blurry forms of human beings. Someone had removed his glasses.
"Are you all right?" Sirius asked frantically.
James nodded. "I need my glasses – I can't see," he croaked, then cleared his throat. "Thanks," James said clearly while sliding them on. He looked around. "Where's that boy?"
Sirius's brow creased. "Do you mean Harry?"
"No, the boy who slit his wrists…"
Hermione made an odd choking noise and buried her face in her hands. James stared intently at Sirius, wondering why he looked so morose.
Barely even putting air between his words, Sirius said lowly, "That was Harry."
"What?" James gasped. "That was Harry?"
Sirius hung his head.
James stared up at the ceiling, not really seeing it at all. That was his Harry, the little boy he was meant to play Quidditch with in the back yard, the one that was supposed to be embarrassed to go out in public with his father, the Harry that needed someone to love him. And he was dying alone with absolutely no one to tell him that there would always be someone there for him. No one to tell him that they cared for him with all their heart. No one to say, "I love you."
It was so strange…and so hard. Did those beautiful green eyes still twinkle like they did so many years ago? Was his smile still so mischievous and ornery?
It was difficult to believe that little Harry was the same boy James saw today with bloody wrists. He was so perfect, so wonderful, so dear…how could anyone let this happen to his little Harry? James remembered waking in the middle of the night to him crying, like he did so many nights. Harry would be bright red in the face, balling at the top of his lungs until someone would pick him up out of his crib and hold him until everything was all right again. He was so soft and weak, dependent and fragile. So precious.
His tiny feet were ticklish…he didn't like marmalade…hair dryers made him scream…he liked running his small fingers over the pages of books…broomsticks were fascinating.
What happened?
"Sirius," James said hopelessly, while thick pearly tears streamed down his face. "What am I going to do? I just don't what to do…you have to help me…"
Sirius looked at him sadly for a moment then hugged him with condolence. "I'm so sorry, James…"
~*~
Only minutes later, a tall redheaded boy came dashing into the hospital wing, puffing and looking quite terrified. "Sirius!" he said in relief, then spotted James. His face went from a lively pink to white. "But – "
"No, Ron, listen, I'll explain," Sirius said. He told Ron about bringing James back to the present, and how James was aware that he had indeed been dead for sixteen years. He accepted the story without any kind of doubt…he had grown used to mysterious revelations being made while playing the role as Harry Potter's best friend.
"But what about Harry?" Ron asked quickly. "Someone up in Gryffindor Tower told me – "
Sirius put up a hand to silence him. "Ron, Harry tried to kill himself, that's true. He's just behind that curtain, there." Sirius pointed. "But you mustn't blame this on yourself – "
But Ron wasn't listening. He looked crestfallen. "I – oh God – what – "
"Ron – " Sirius started, but Ron suddenly leapt up and dashed toward Harry's curtain. He wrenched it back to find an unconscious Harry bundled in blankets and surrounded by pillows. His chest was faintly rising and falling evenly.
"Oh God – he's okay," he sighed in relief. "Hermione," he said suddenly.
She looked up at him with swollen and bloodshot eyes. "Come here," he demanded. She did so and looked at him questioningly as he took both of her hands in his. "You told me that you loved Harry after we broke up in fifth year, right?"
Hermione nodded, still frowning.
"And did you mean it?"
Hermione nodded again.
"Right, well, my mum told me about this a long time ago when Uncle Bilius died – when someone is likely to pass away soon, the person who knows the victim the best can kiss them, and they if they kiss the right person, their recovery will be more promising. I know it's some silly wives tale, but it can't hurt to try, can it?"
Hermione looked sadly at Harry, then straight at James. It pained him to know that Hermione knew his son better than he did, but it was truth. James nodded to Hermione, as if giving her permission. She closed her eyes briefly, then turned to Harry's bed.
"I love you, Harry," she whispered faintly, and kissed his purple lips. It was as though she was breathing life into him…color flushed to his cheeks and he sucked in a great, healthful breath, though still unconscious. Hermione looked at Ron, worried it hadn't worked, but when his face broke into a relieved smile, she almost fainted in alleviation.
Harry's eyes, which had the deadened look that Sirius finally grew out of, fluttered open to see Hermione's face just over him, very close to tears.
"Hermione," he said with the most heart-crushing and tear-jerking voice ever to have been heard by the ears of man. His lips curled into a sweet smile, and Hermione brought a hand to her face to wipe away the sudden rush of tears. Harry's brows suddenly came very close together and he sat up with such a rush that Hermione jumped back in surprise.
"Come here," he ordered. "Now don't cry – it's not worth it," Harry said, shaking his head in disgust at himself that he would even have the nerve to make Hermione cry like that.
Hermione just started weeping harder, looking helpless and desolate. She fell into Harry's arms and began shaking all over in silent sobs. Harry made no objection to this; he smoothed her hair down lovingly and looked shopworn and sheepish.
"Hermione, listen to me," he said, pulling her up to look into her eyes. "Whatever I might do, or whatever I might have done already – I want you to know that this has nothing - absolutely nothing – to do with you or Ron. I wasn't in my right mind, and it's not worth it to feel this way. I was being stupid and selfish, and I thought that I was doing you a favor if I did myself in. It was an ignorant assumption, and I'm sorry for ever even having the nerve to do something so hurtful to you. God," he added, shaking his head and biting his lip so hard that it drew blood. His eyes were brimmed with tears and he was still clinging to Hermione's shoulders. "I don't know what's getting in to me…I don't see straight anymore. These nightmares – God, the nightmares – " He closed his eyes and shivered at the mere thought of them. " – they're driving me mad. I can't tell the difference between dreams and reality anymore…"
Hermione let out a dry sob. Harry frowned and looked away. "I'm sorry," he said. "Don't pity me, though. I was the one being an egotistical prig…thinking I had all the problems. And that's ridiculous – you're more unsettled than I'll ever be. You need help more than I do…what with suicidal best friends that run off to the forest and drown in freezing cold water and everything. I'm still cold," he said, now grinning at Hermione's face, which seemed to be struggling to hold back even more tears.
They were both now sitting next to one another on the hospital bed, ignorant of everyone watching. To their astonishment, Harry easily got up to fetch Hermione a tissue. As he walked back towards the bed and faced James, the group heard a loud THUMP – Harry was on the floor, out cold.
HARRY'S POV
There was red all around him – the velvet curtains of his bed. Harry moaned quietly, and twisted his head to look at his aching wrists. They were bandaged in white. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together with such force that they hurt.
"Harry?"
He suddenly sat up very quickly and wrenched back the hangings, hoping to find Cho, but it was Professor McGonagall. She stared at him with bloodshot eyes and a morose expression.
Breaking the silence, Harry said, "Where are Ron and Hermione?"
"Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are currently in the hospital wing with James. They thought it best for you to just sleep for a bit, after the shock," she replied.
"Shock?" Harry asked. "And James who? Is he that first year we were working with last week?"
The professor stared at him again, then abruptly swished out of the boy's dormitory with no forewarning of where she was going. Harry watched in confusion for a moment at the empty space in front of him, then attempted to get dressed. Things kept rubbing against his wrists, and even though they were bandaged, it hurt very greatly.
Finding not a soul in the common room, Harry proceeded to the hospital wing, where he could find some explanations from Ron and Hermione, or at least some comfort.
Authors Note #2: Evil book. That's all I have to say. And Harry didn't really want to kill himself and that wasn't him talking…I love leaving people wondering!