Chapter III : Miss You Love
[ colloquial title : Choke ]
Only a matter of hours later, Harry found himself seated at The Weasleys kitchen table; unable to do more than pick at his food, despite the hunger eating away at his insides. It was more than a relief to be here at The Burrow, surrounded by Ron and his family, by friendly and familiar faces - but Harry couldn't forget that it wasn't Home, and that Sirius wasn't here. Staring down at his plate, he thought about the way this evening would have been, if today had never happened. The thought of it brought tears to his eyes for the umpteenth time that day, and Harry asked to be excused before anyone noticed and went upstairs to Ron's room.
He cried as soon as he shut the door. He lay down on his camp bed with his arms folded beneath his head, and cried harder than he'd cried since They'd hurt him when he was ten. He cried for that day now; he cried for Sirius, he cried for himself - he cried because he'd lost the only person that ever loved him enough to kiss him, because he'd lost the only home he'd ever felt safe in, because he was alone again and it scared him and he didn't know what to do. He cried so hard that he didn't even hear Ron come in, or notice when he stood in the doorway for a few moments chewing on his lip. In fact it startled him so badly when Ron laid a hand on his shoulder that he whimpered and pulled away before he realized who it was.
He'd never let Ron see him cry before; but when he tried to collect himself he found that he simply couldn't, and it only made him sob harder. "I'm sorry," he managed to choke, burying his face in his arms again - but Ron hushed him before he could stammer further apologies, rubbing his back through his sweaty tee shirt. He didn't say a word as Harry sobbed into his pillow, but he never left his side, either; soothing him slowly with gentle hands and understanding silence until he could barely cry another tear.
"I love him so much, Ron," he whispered, unable to choke back the words before they escaped his lips and feeling foolish once they did.
"He loves you too, Harry," his friend said softly, "He loves you more than anything and you know it, and I bet it kills him every bit as much as it kills you to be apart."
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, locked his jaw against the roll of pain in his stomach when he thought about it, and Ron made some soft, sympathetic noise and took his hand. "And Mum and Dad and I love you too. Hell, Ginny's *wild* about you!" He laughed softly, and Harry had to smile just a little despite everything. "But I'm serious, Harry - we really do. And we're going to be here for you through all of this, I swear it."
The words were nearly too much for Harry. He tightened his fingers around Ron's, unable to find words for exactly how much he'd needed to hear this very thing; clamped his teeth down on his lower lip to avoid sobbing all over again. His best friend leaned over and hugged him - something Harry had needed desperately - then smoothed his hair back from his forehead. "Try and sleep, okay? I'll be right here."
Sleep was something that Harry couldn't do without much longer. He squeezed Ron's hand a little, and didn't dare to meet his eyes when he asked "Hold my hand until I'm asleep?" Ron returned the little squeeze with a gentle smile.
"I was already planning on it."
* * *
i "Please don't do this," Harry whimpered, struggling against the hands locked like iron vices around his biceps. Laughter, cruel and low and cold all around him, and a rough hand touching his face.
"Ahh, begging already? This one's going to be a screamer for sure."
"A bleeder, too. He's tiny."
"Who gets firsts?"
"I found him, I tap him!"
There were so many hands. He couldn't keep track of all of them; hands holding him still, hands on his ribs, his stomach, his thighs... hands forcing him down on his back on the hard ground, hands tearing his clothes off of him. And then there were mouths, tongues, teeth; and the hands didn't seem so bad, except for when they hit him for crying too hard. Harry couldn't see without his glasses, and it made it all the more terrifying - and now they were forcing his legs apart, pulling his knees up and back so that he lay completely exposed to those kisses and touches and bruising bites. Someone buried their face in his crotch and raked their teeth over him; another shoved a thick, calloused finger inside him roughly, a third clamped a hand down hard over his mouth when he screamed, and pulled his hair. Laughter and cruel words and the stench of sweat and cheap whiskey, the taste of blood in his mouth; Harry screamed until his voice broke and even then he screamed silently, bucking and writhing like a trapped animal beneath the body twice as large as his own, struggling to get away from the hands that pinned down his bruised hips, the fingers that forced their way inside of him with blinding pain.
But it was nothing compared to the pain of actually being taken, so he found. His consciousness ebbed like the recession of a wave for a moment before sharpening unbearably. It seemed that they would rip him apart from the inside; one after another, stealing away his innocence with every thrust and blow and rake of nails across his skin... with every one of his own gasps and cries and pleas. "Stop it, God, please stop... please... no, please, God--" /i
"--NO!" Harry sat bolt upright in bed with his heart pounding against his ribs, trembling so hard that he could barely draw his knees to his chest, raise his hands to his face. He could almost feel Them touching him still, hear Their laughter ringing away to nothing in the silent darkness of Ron's bedroom. And then all at once Ron was beside him; Ron was holding him, rocking him, asking him what was wrong. Harry sank into his friend's arms, shivering, and could only shake his head when his voice would not come. Too frightened to cry, he rested against Ron's shoulder and stared into the darkness, and tried to match his breathing with the other boy's to steady his heart. No one but Sirius had ever held him like this before; no one else had ever been at his side when he'd woke from The Nightmares - and had it been anyone else but his most trusted friend, Harry might not have been able to even let them touch him in this oh-so-fragile state. But it was Ron. And Ron loved him.
"What is it, Harry?" Ron whispered against his ear, stroking his hair in a decidedly protective manner that made Harry snuggle closer to him instinctively.
"Ron, I cant- I just cant- just stay with me, please, don't let them hurt me- "
"Who? Harry..." Ron tightened his arms around his best friend, who only shook his head more as though to will the very idea away.
"I cant- I don't even know- just please, Ron- "
Ron laid his cheek against Harry's hair, rocking him more steadily. "Shhh, okay... okay.... no one will hurt you, I promise. Here, come lie down with me..."
The sheets of Ron's bed were cool by comparison to his own, and the night breeze blew soft through the open window; and with a warm body to cuddle up against, with a shoulder to rest his head on and a heartbeat to listen to, Harry finally began to calm down.
"...I'm not going to let them get away with this, Harry," Ron whispered into the darkness after a long moment. "We'll send an owl to Hermione in the morning, and the three of us will put our heads together and find a way to beat them. We'll read every book on Magical Law in Britain ever published until we find something that will get you and Sirius off the hook. And we'll testify at the trial, too."
"The Trial of the Century..." mused Harry quietly, staring across Ron's chest and out the open window at the night sky.
"And we're going to win it," said Ron, "I know we will."
[ colloquial title : Choke ]
Only a matter of hours later, Harry found himself seated at The Weasleys kitchen table; unable to do more than pick at his food, despite the hunger eating away at his insides. It was more than a relief to be here at The Burrow, surrounded by Ron and his family, by friendly and familiar faces - but Harry couldn't forget that it wasn't Home, and that Sirius wasn't here. Staring down at his plate, he thought about the way this evening would have been, if today had never happened. The thought of it brought tears to his eyes for the umpteenth time that day, and Harry asked to be excused before anyone noticed and went upstairs to Ron's room.
He cried as soon as he shut the door. He lay down on his camp bed with his arms folded beneath his head, and cried harder than he'd cried since They'd hurt him when he was ten. He cried for that day now; he cried for Sirius, he cried for himself - he cried because he'd lost the only person that ever loved him enough to kiss him, because he'd lost the only home he'd ever felt safe in, because he was alone again and it scared him and he didn't know what to do. He cried so hard that he didn't even hear Ron come in, or notice when he stood in the doorway for a few moments chewing on his lip. In fact it startled him so badly when Ron laid a hand on his shoulder that he whimpered and pulled away before he realized who it was.
He'd never let Ron see him cry before; but when he tried to collect himself he found that he simply couldn't, and it only made him sob harder. "I'm sorry," he managed to choke, burying his face in his arms again - but Ron hushed him before he could stammer further apologies, rubbing his back through his sweaty tee shirt. He didn't say a word as Harry sobbed into his pillow, but he never left his side, either; soothing him slowly with gentle hands and understanding silence until he could barely cry another tear.
"I love him so much, Ron," he whispered, unable to choke back the words before they escaped his lips and feeling foolish once they did.
"He loves you too, Harry," his friend said softly, "He loves you more than anything and you know it, and I bet it kills him every bit as much as it kills you to be apart."
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, locked his jaw against the roll of pain in his stomach when he thought about it, and Ron made some soft, sympathetic noise and took his hand. "And Mum and Dad and I love you too. Hell, Ginny's *wild* about you!" He laughed softly, and Harry had to smile just a little despite everything. "But I'm serious, Harry - we really do. And we're going to be here for you through all of this, I swear it."
The words were nearly too much for Harry. He tightened his fingers around Ron's, unable to find words for exactly how much he'd needed to hear this very thing; clamped his teeth down on his lower lip to avoid sobbing all over again. His best friend leaned over and hugged him - something Harry had needed desperately - then smoothed his hair back from his forehead. "Try and sleep, okay? I'll be right here."
Sleep was something that Harry couldn't do without much longer. He squeezed Ron's hand a little, and didn't dare to meet his eyes when he asked "Hold my hand until I'm asleep?" Ron returned the little squeeze with a gentle smile.
"I was already planning on it."
* * *
i "Please don't do this," Harry whimpered, struggling against the hands locked like iron vices around his biceps. Laughter, cruel and low and cold all around him, and a rough hand touching his face.
"Ahh, begging already? This one's going to be a screamer for sure."
"A bleeder, too. He's tiny."
"Who gets firsts?"
"I found him, I tap him!"
There were so many hands. He couldn't keep track of all of them; hands holding him still, hands on his ribs, his stomach, his thighs... hands forcing him down on his back on the hard ground, hands tearing his clothes off of him. And then there were mouths, tongues, teeth; and the hands didn't seem so bad, except for when they hit him for crying too hard. Harry couldn't see without his glasses, and it made it all the more terrifying - and now they were forcing his legs apart, pulling his knees up and back so that he lay completely exposed to those kisses and touches and bruising bites. Someone buried their face in his crotch and raked their teeth over him; another shoved a thick, calloused finger inside him roughly, a third clamped a hand down hard over his mouth when he screamed, and pulled his hair. Laughter and cruel words and the stench of sweat and cheap whiskey, the taste of blood in his mouth; Harry screamed until his voice broke and even then he screamed silently, bucking and writhing like a trapped animal beneath the body twice as large as his own, struggling to get away from the hands that pinned down his bruised hips, the fingers that forced their way inside of him with blinding pain.
But it was nothing compared to the pain of actually being taken, so he found. His consciousness ebbed like the recession of a wave for a moment before sharpening unbearably. It seemed that they would rip him apart from the inside; one after another, stealing away his innocence with every thrust and blow and rake of nails across his skin... with every one of his own gasps and cries and pleas. "Stop it, God, please stop... please... no, please, God--" /i
"--NO!" Harry sat bolt upright in bed with his heart pounding against his ribs, trembling so hard that he could barely draw his knees to his chest, raise his hands to his face. He could almost feel Them touching him still, hear Their laughter ringing away to nothing in the silent darkness of Ron's bedroom. And then all at once Ron was beside him; Ron was holding him, rocking him, asking him what was wrong. Harry sank into his friend's arms, shivering, and could only shake his head when his voice would not come. Too frightened to cry, he rested against Ron's shoulder and stared into the darkness, and tried to match his breathing with the other boy's to steady his heart. No one but Sirius had ever held him like this before; no one else had ever been at his side when he'd woke from The Nightmares - and had it been anyone else but his most trusted friend, Harry might not have been able to even let them touch him in this oh-so-fragile state. But it was Ron. And Ron loved him.
"What is it, Harry?" Ron whispered against his ear, stroking his hair in a decidedly protective manner that made Harry snuggle closer to him instinctively.
"Ron, I cant- I just cant- just stay with me, please, don't let them hurt me- "
"Who? Harry..." Ron tightened his arms around his best friend, who only shook his head more as though to will the very idea away.
"I cant- I don't even know- just please, Ron- "
Ron laid his cheek against Harry's hair, rocking him more steadily. "Shhh, okay... okay.... no one will hurt you, I promise. Here, come lie down with me..."
The sheets of Ron's bed were cool by comparison to his own, and the night breeze blew soft through the open window; and with a warm body to cuddle up against, with a shoulder to rest his head on and a heartbeat to listen to, Harry finally began to calm down.
"...I'm not going to let them get away with this, Harry," Ron whispered into the darkness after a long moment. "We'll send an owl to Hermione in the morning, and the three of us will put our heads together and find a way to beat them. We'll read every book on Magical Law in Britain ever published until we find something that will get you and Sirius off the hook. And we'll testify at the trial, too."
"The Trial of the Century..." mused Harry quietly, staring across Ron's chest and out the open window at the night sky.
"And we're going to win it," said Ron, "I know we will."