Body Warnings and Disclaimers: please refer to chapters 1, 7, or 14. Thanks.

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get this updated. My muse was on a very long holiday and my brain went with her. And there would be ch. 16 following this if my computer weren't possessed of the devil. It won't let me open the file, but I promise I'll get it done soon. Not as long between chapters from here, I hope. I actually figured out how it ends!!!! Yay!!! *trumpets sound* But not yet. *trumpets fizzle out in a really disgusting sound of disappointment* Soon.

You Can Sick At The Heart

Once all the students were back in the building, Hogwarts didn't seem so barren and desolate anymore. All through the summer, we all struggled to keep our sanity intact. Since Voldemort's return, every summer had been a test of will. How much silence could we really endure before it won out over us? By the time that it came down to that, the students had returned. Though the number of students had diminished considerably, it was still comforting to have a routine, warm bodies, and other voices drifting about.

None of the other Death Eaters had been captured, so this was a great mystery. Since Lucius Malfoy had been apprehended, attacks had become almost nonexistent. He'd been interrogated on many different occasions, but to no avail. A truth serum was used but no new information was revealed. It seemed that none of the Death Eaters knew who the others were; it was a completely anonymous organisation. Anonymity simply added to the volatility of the situation. Not knowing who or what to watch out for meant that one had to be on one's toes at all times of the day or night. Not even Draco knew who his attackers were, excepting his own father. With no new information, it seemed like this year was going to be as hopeless as every year since Voldemort had risen.

The tension in the air was almost tangible. It seemed that everyone was just waiting to be attacked; everyone was waiting to die. There was little fear of it, but it was acknowledged all the time. Nary a day passed that I didn't hear at least one student comment upon the events of the outside world in a fashion that was simply not characteristic of a child. Children weren't really allowed to be children in those days. They were forced to be as aware as any adult. It was painful for me to have to listen to their musings on life and death and good and evil. Concepts that normal children shouldn't be able to grasp were being taken by the throat and dissected to the fullest extent.

Perhaps my biggest shock, however, was that Draco was to be put into my house for the remainder of his time at Hogwarts. Severus was mildly disappointed, but he handled himself quite well. It had become common knowledge that Draco was involved with Harry in a manner that went a bit deeper than friendship, so naturally I was concerned about allowing them to stay in the same dorm together. Before they headed up to bed that first night, I took Harry aside because I wasn't altogether comfortable with Draco, and meant to have a talk with him. He had a talk with me instead.

"What is this about, Professor?" he asked once we were safely within the confines of my office.

"Being as I am your head of house, I feel that it is my responsibility to discuss the extent of your relationship with Mr. Malfoy," I started out. I was never very good at talking to students about sexual relations, especially the boys, but I was determined to do just that.

Smiling knowingly, though almost sadly, he started before I even had the chance to ask. "Would you feel better if I were to tell you that there's nothing for you to worry about?"

"Would you be telling me that because you don't want to watch me embarrass myself, or because you want off the hook?" I asked, thinking that the latter would be the case.

"There's no hook to be let off of," he replied very matter-of-factly.

"No?" I didn't believe him, but I was more than willing to listen to what he had to say.

"If I tell you why, do you promise not to say anything to anyone else?" There was a kind of adult sincerity in the way that he was talking to me that I couldn't help but admire.

"Anything you say to me shall not go beyond me," I assured him.

Taking a deep breath, he began, "Do you know about what happened to Draco when he went home?"

"I take it that you are referring to his near-death experience?"

He flinched slightly, making me feel rather insensitive, but continued. "It was a bit more than just that." He sighed deeply as he shut his eyes tight. He was clearly trying to remain in control of his emotions and it was clearly a difficult thing for him to do. "He was-" he stopped. "You'll forgive me; this is rather difficult to talk about," he whispered.

"Take your time."

"Draco was severely abused you know," he stated without emotion.

"Yes, I am aware of that."

"He was very severely sexually abused," he clarified.

That was a part of the tale that had been omitted when I was told about why Draco would be in my care for the rest of the year. "I see."

"Then you also see why there's nothing for you to worry about?" he finished.

"Yes, I suppose I do."

Without warning, a silent sob wracked his entire body. I thought that the rest of the students were mature beyond their years, but none so much as Harry. He was having to deal with things I myself had never had to deal with, and he did it with utmost grace. I was now beginning to wonder just how much he had gone through with Draco and what the implications of that would be. My knowledge of all the things that had transpired between them was extremely limited, and at the rate things were going, I wasn't at all sure that I wanted to know.

"Are you all right, Potter?"

Nodding almost imperceptibly, he muttered, "Sorry. It's just difficult."

"I'm sure it is."

"He's getting better, really he is. Most of the time he's pretty normal, you know?" he said suddenly as though he were trying to convince himself more than me. His voice had taken on an almost panicky note and he wasn't even seeing me anymore. "But sometimes he like forgets, you know?"

"What do you mean he forgets?" I asked, trying to sound understanding without wanting to pry. Harry was talking about this for what I assumed was the first time, judging by the erratic way he was talking and behaving and I certainly didn't want to upset him and make him stop. I wasn't interested so much in the content of what he was saying, but the fact that he just needed to say it.

"He just... forgets. Where he is and who he's with, you know? And sometimes he acts like it never happened at all." Tears were welling up in his eyes and he was speaking as though he were pleading with me.

"And this bothers you."

"Don't get me wrong, I want him to be able to put it behind him. But it's just not right, the way he ignores it. Or he talks about it like it's a normal part of life. It's like he thinks nothing of it at all. But then he forgets who he is and where he is and who I am." At that point, the tears fell from his eyes and I felt the heat coming into my own. "And I don't know what to do except for just being there. I just feel so helpless." And he started sobbing.

For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. No student or even another professor had ever told me anything like what Harry was telling me. I'd never had any children of my own and I hadn't had a whole lot of contact with those who had been seriously traumatised like that. I never really thought of Harry as a person who had seen more trauma and drama in his short seventeen years than I had in all sixty of mine. He didn't act the part. He just didn't look or act like a person whose parents had been destroyed or like he was being trailed by the darkest wizard ever to curse the Earth with his existence. Because of this, I never treated him any differently than I did any of my other students. I never thought that he was anything more special than any one of them.

Watching Harry Potter cry was almost more than I could stand. I went around to the other side of the desk, where he was sitting, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Comforting others had never been my forte, but I was determined to do my best. His tears started to slow and he gradually regained control of himself.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to go to pieces like that," he muttered as he wiped his eyes in an extremely embarrassed fashion.

"It's all right, Son." I rather stunned myself. That was probably the most sympathetic I had ever sounded in all my life.

"I just hate feeling so helpless. There's nothing I can do to help him and I hate it."

"You're doing the best you can, Harry. That's all anyone can do," I tried to assure him.

"Perhaps. I just feel like my best isn't good enough, you know? I should just be able to take it away and I just can't . I don't know how. I don't know what to do. And you know what the worst part is? It's when he looks at me like I'm the greatest person he's ever met and all I can think is that I've failed him." He stared down at the floor as he said this like he was letting all of his shame be known to me.

"You've not failed anyone, Harry. You've done more than your fair share."

"Right," he sighed. "Boy Who Lived and all, right? That took no effort. I let him get away. I let him kill Cedric and I let him get away. And what happened? Everyone's gone. Well, most everyone. And Draco almost died. Sometimes I think that if he had died, he might be better off. Is that horrible, or what?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, if he had died, then he wouldn't have to deal with all that shit- excuse me- all the time, you know? It hurts: watching him struggle to stay afloat. Every time he freezes up and curls into a ball... it hurts. Because there's nothing I can do. I can't take it away. I can't change it. And I hate it. How come I could beat Voldemort before I could even walk and I can't even make Draco's life any better?" he asked as though I could give him an answer.

"You do make his life better, Harry. I'm sure of it."

"I'm glad someone thinks so," he smirked bitterly.

"Don't you? I'll tell you that I saw him smile more this evening than he has in all the six years he's attended Hogwarts. I think that's worth a lot. And as far as him staying afloat, I think you're helping him do just that," I tried, though I thought that I sounded rather silly.

"Thank you. I appreciate that," he answered, sounding not at all convinced. "I will tell you that he is going to sleep with me, so that you don't think I'm trying to pull one over on you. But I promise that that is all," he sighed, looking slightly dejected.

"Thank you, I appreciate that," I laughed.

"You won't tell him that I told you, will you?"

"No, Potter, nothing that is said inside this office leaves this office. Unless his well-being is in danger, I promise I shan't say a thing to anyone."

"Thanks. I just don't want him to think I'm trying to interfere, you know?"

"In what sense?"

"He thinks there's nothing wrong with him. He thinks he's as normal as they come. If he knew that I didn't think so, he would... I don't want to think about it," he shuddered.

"It will take time, but Draco will eventually face what he's been through. He is probably just not ready yet. My best advice to you is just to let him be. Listen to him when he wants to talk and let him know you're there."

"That's what I have been doing."

"And I would think that you're doing a fine job, as well."

"Why's that?" he skeptically asked.

"Honestly, Potter, I wasn't born yesterday."

"No, I can't imagine that you were," he conceded with a smile.

"Draco's never really had any friends and don't think I haven't noticed. But I watched him at dinner tonight, and I noticed that he wasn't just talking to you. And wasn't he sitting with Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger?" I pointed out, trying to make him see the light.

"This is all fine and good, Professor, but that is only here and now. Do you know what this summer was like?" he asked, his tone turning almost bitterly cynical. Without waiting for me to respond -which I'm not sure I could have done, anyway- he continued, "For the first few days he did nothing but sleep. Then he found out his mother had committed suicide. This only added fuel to the fire. Do you know what her funeral was like?" I did know, I had been there. Narcissa was a former student, and though we weren't particularly close, it was an obligatory thing to do. "How he kept it together I don't honestly know, but when we got home, he sure didn't. The whole funeral I listened to him cry and try not to hyperventilate. That's a very, very hard thing to do, you know: listening to your best friend and your... you know, try not to lose control in front a bunch of people that includes his teachers and the aunt he hates almost as much as he hates his father, and that's saying something. We didn't go to the reception, we went home, where he proceeded to hyperventilate so badly that he actually passed out. That's a hard thing to watch day in and day out. I apologise," he said suddenly, looking down at the floor. "I guess I'm just hitting my breaking point, you know? Gotta let it out sometimes," muttered Harry as he cast his eyes at the floor once more.

"I understand."

Looking up at me, he whispered, "And the cause of all of it, the cause of everything that's gone wrong and is still going wrong, is still out there. How many more people have they done that to? How many more are yet to come? When I first heard about Voldemort and what he'd done, I didn't really understand until I actually saw him come back. But now I think that I never understood it because if I did, then maybe I could do something about it."

"No, Harry. You understand better than you should," I sighed. "You understand far better than most. Not that that makes it any better or any easier. But just understanding is half the battle with Voldemort, and you know that. You know better than anyone else does. You just don't

know it yet."

He seemed to give this some thought, his brow furrowing and eyes setting on mine. After a few moments he finally relaxed and said, "Perhaps. Just wait and see, huh?" Then, much to my amazement, he smiled.

As his gaze became less intense, I realised that I was feeling very self-conscious. When he stared at me like that, it was like he was reading my very thoughts. "Right. Off to bed; it's getting late."

"Goodnight, Professor," he said as he shut the door behind him.

"Goodnight, Harry."

The gravity of Harry's situation was finally starting to set in. Not only was it Draco that he had to deal with, but the threat of Voldemort and the part that he must play in his defeat. When I was seventeen I was worrying about the same things all the other girls were worrying about. And I can assure you that it wasn't Dark Lords and death. Harry Potter was something special and everyone knew it. Even he knew it. He knew he was going to be called upon someday to fight in battle and he just accepted it as gracefully as anything. But not even he could keep his doubts and fears bottled up forever. Thinking about Harry and all the things he had to face at his young age made me sick. The gravity of his situation made me sick at the heart at the very thought of it.

Yet there was something in the air that year that made me think that this was a time to be enjoyed because it wasn't going to last for long. Lucius Malfoy was in a cell far below the Ministry offices where he would be held indefinitely. Voldemort was without his confidant, and he would not stand for that for long. It was going to start unraveling very, very soon. And Harry was going to be at the very centre of it.

*****

So? Not one of my better chapters, I know, but I still like it. Let me know. Cheers!

Thanks to: Prongs, as always a review from you is worth a thousand smiles; Sandra Solaria Dees (and I really dig that name, too.); Juliana Black; Ruka-chan, you are too sweet; Myr; PepperjackCandy; Alchemy, I'm glad you liked ch. 11. It was one of my personal favourites, too; shindo, that was one of the greatest reviews I've gotten in a long time. I am nothing short of completely flattered! *blushes* *blows kiss* thanks; and to WildfireFriendship, I hope you like this, too. Thanks again, and cheers!