Chapter One of Mend A Broken Heart
Disclaimer: I do not own any HP stuff or anything that concerns it. What's mine is what y'all don't recognize.
Hiya! 'Tis me, soccerchick-009!! I just wanted to express my gratitude first to all those who have reviewed and added me up to their Favorites and Author Alerts list. I so appreciate all the suggestions, comments, and compliments. They really inspire me and help me notice my flaws in writing. So, here it is, Chapter One. Sorry if it's pretty lame…
16 years later…
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Harry's POV:
Remus is the one person who saved my life the most. No one understood me like he did. Years can damage a person, grueling years full of sorrow, hatred, curses, demise, and fear. Lying on this bed where Sirius slept and years later, Remus became the inhabitant of this very room, brings back memories I failed to forget after almost sixteen years.
As I recall now, that grueling night of pure betrayal left me confused and shattered, feeling as if all ability a normal human can have once he is born has been shooed away by some unearthly power. It was also the start of my atrocious days of depression and total silence and isolation from the world.
I wanted to go to Ron and Hermione's place to seek comfort of friends who stood by me when life seemed cruel and unjust. Yet, with the confusion swirling in my mind, accompanied by the loud thump of the heavy drops of rain, I thought that they were right from the start. I shouldn't have started a relationship with someone whom I just suddenly fell in love with in my teenage years.
The thought of the old, wiry, wise wizard with the twinkle in his eye entered my mind. I couldn't possibly go to Hogwarts at that time. There were students about and professors who might give me pitiful looks and a certain professor who would sneer at me and torture me more than I have gone through. Besides, I knew it would be risky to let everyone know that a man—the Boy-Who-Lived, at that—was pregnant and ran away because the father of the child cheated on him. And, days before I have confided in Dumbledore, told him of the signs of this peculiar pregnancy.
He told me that if fusions of the strongest love between two people of strong magical origin and a strong bond could give life to a creation most beautiful and splendid and that in the wizarding world, relationships such as what Draco and I had, were acceptable. I concluded that anything is possible in the world of witchcraft and wizardry. Even procreation between males who are crazy in love…in love...hah!
He was expecting a marriage and a happy family. And I just couldn't bear to go back and let him see that he better put his hopes down.
Inevitably, I hoped that Sirius was there with me, by my side. I sobbed harder at thought of the reality of his death and the creeping sensation of loneliness. I wished that my godfather was resurrected from the dead even for just freaking fifteen minutes, to console me and give me fatherly advice. I wished that someone like him would come into my life and reclaim my youthful vigor and strength.
And then, between sobs and gritting of teeth, I thought of Remus Lupin and Grimmauld Place where the werewolf now resides.
After Sirius death and the battle against the Dark side, we blossomed a relationship that almost rivaled my "father-and-son" relationship with Sirius. We talked as if there wasn't any tomorrow or when time seemed irrelevant and just something that was there but really went unnoticed. He took me in and we both stayed in Grimmauld Place, the place where the one person we truly loved once lived.
He was with me every second of my new life after the war. He took me out to the Weasley's, he was there for me when Draco asked me out for the first time (I sensed some parental jealousy in Remus…), he supported me in my decisions, and I couldn't help but feel like I owe my life to Remus and he's the only person who knows me best. We were inseparable. And whenever I looked in his soft, kind eyes, I see joy, the suffering of a man who endured a lot of pain, memories that brought him laughter and sometimes a serious aura, his love for Sirius that made me think up till now if there was something more of a friendship that went on between them when my godfather was alive. And there was something else that I couldn't fathom then, but it will be months after Andrew was born that he finally confessed what it meant.
I think I, too, was the closest person in Remus's life aside from Sirius and some people in the Order. I helped him take his Wolfsbane Potion, concocted by Snape, when the full moon had its turn, I sat by his bedside when he became very ill and exhausted, and I listened to his emotions when he spoke of them openly. Sometimes he would mistake me as Sirius and sometimes of James, my father.
I arrived at Grimmauld Place late at night, the velvety sky with infinite number of speckles of blinking white, the rain slowly subsiding but still pouring, the cold air seeping into my bones, attacking me bit by bit. I pounded on the door with my fists, which were growing weaker and weaker like every part of my body; the thought of my child in my newly, naturally acquired womb went at the back of my mind. Then the person that I was expecting came to the door, heavy-eyed and his pajamas ruffled and wrinkled.
His face went from drowsiness to astonishment. He automatically let me in, making space for me to go through. Yet, I didn't go much farther as I collapsed in Remus's strong arms. My world almost went blank but something never allowed me to be swallowed up by oblivion. Instincts told me that if I surrendered to the darkness, I'd be gone for good.
He carried me—my arm about his neck and the other swaying to and fro, my aching head resting on Remus's broad shoulder—to my old room. I tried to focus my gaze on Remus's face, my sense of hearing on his deep voice. He was saying comforting things, I bet, but I couldn't hear a thing he was muttering only reading his lips under heavily-lidded eyes, puffy and tired from crying all the way to Sirius's house. I was feeling so cold an alone that I wanted to die but something or someone isn't allowing me to.
I was laid on my old bed in Grimmauld Place; my soaking clothing was delicately being parted from my body until none was left but later replaced with new softer and cozier dry ones, Remus's cries of soothing words clouding the room, the sound of rain hammering on the window, and the pulsation of the ache in my head. Yet, my soul was never in that room. I lost it somewhere and will only return then after a long time. I never uttered a word, not even a monosyllable.
That night, I was sick, my temperature was sizzling hot to the touch, and I was sweating like a pig being roasted, but inside I felt so cold and would remain feeling the chill and pale and as white like snow for days, helplessly trying to cover myself with every fabric that I could find. I couldn't move a fraction of a finger nor could I twitch a muscle that night, except the only instinctive thing that I did was to breathe without ever knowing what for and blinking, whatever for. I lay there in my bed, immobile, and silent. Remus was watching over me, he was seated on a chair by my bed, his hand clutching one of mine; he never left my side nor did he sleep that night.
I wanted desperately to feel the warmth of his hand, to say my gratitude to the person who is like my guardian in life. I didn't know then that I would be ill for days and silent for months, leaving the people whom I cared deeply about and loved me back in a state of confusion and anger.
Remus went to Dumbledore the next morning after that horrible night. I didn't sleep well and I succumbed to a state of depression wholly. When he left, I didn't hear a distinct pop at my side and never noticed the small house-elf that was Dobby peering at me with his huge eyes, the size of saucers. I may have seen him but I wasn't aware. It's like what Hermione calls: The Absence of Presence of Mind. The faithful elf kept me company, never knowing I didn't know he was there, dabbed my forehead with a damp cloth, forcing me to eat some food, changing my clothes with great difficulty that he had to ask for more house-elves for help once Dumbledore and Remus immediately went back to Grimmauld Place.
My world was simply…blank back then. I didn't move; I didn't speak to anyone, not even to my best friends or to Dumbledore or to Remus, I responded to remedial potions at an old man's pace; I basically forgot how to live.
Dumbledore and Remus were at my side, the older wizard telling Remus of my pregnancy and how to deal with me. I later found out that Dumbledore did that, when I progressed gradually from my tragic state. Remus told me he was astonished and that he barely sat on my bedside as incredulity took its place. He was confused however as why I left from my relationship with the blonde. It would be days later that the usually calm werewolf would be foaming at the mouth with rage, shaking from anger, and more exhausted than the nights of the full moon.
Ron and Hermione were sent a letter from Dumbledore, telling them of my situation. They weren't so surprised in spite of this because, they would be telling of Draco's indignant loud knocks on their doorstep, his shouts for my whereabouts, and his plea for forgiveness after I immediately left our home and he went straight to my closest friends' house. Ron told me he was really amused when he saw Draco wet and begging for me at his doorstep like a stray dog wanting for shelter, Hermione, the wise woman that she turned out to be, talked to Draco with a tight lip and a blank expression, already knowing of what he has done wrong for I confessed to her the nights when Draco overworked, or the times when we seemed distant.
Draco was stubborn and as proud as a mule could be, my best friends told me after I have started to listen to what people around me were saying and the coldness was subsiding. Ron, as Hermione put it, turned as red as a ripe tomato, and punched Draco squarely on the center of his face once Draco told them of what I saw in his office, breaking Draco's perfect symmetrical nose, which I have traced with a finger clandestinely when he was asleep after we made love, and slammed the door, never to be opened for Draco ever again.
I wondered in my silent months if a door in my life for Draco would forever be closed. Until now, I am not so sure if I have ever closed it.
For days, I was ill that perhaps if a muggle doctor examined me, he might predict that my status was hopeless and that they should be ready to call the morgue. Hermione fed me food, helped me knock back a potion, and changed my clothes when it was appropriate. Ron told me a thousand ways how he was going to make that insufferable ferret (his words, not mine) pay, then stories of the Chuddley Cannons' greatest games and legendary heroes. All for nothing, I must say. I was permanently spacing out whenever reality caressed its way towards me.
Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months until I gradually got a hold of my presence of mind and helped around the house, but not with Remus only with Dobby who helped around for a little bit, silent as turtle, my tummy showing a little bit more and getting a little bit heavier, Draco still harassing my friends for my whereabouts until Dumbledore reprimanded him to give me some space to recover and for him to go home, Ron and Hermione's staying days in Sirius's house turned into visits on weekly basis.
Remus was smart enough to give me some peace and never forcing me directly to speak out loud. But, he did help me to my first stages of coming back to the world of normality.
I went into his room—this very room in which I am now in after almost sixteen challenging years—to retrieve some of the small vials where Snape places the Wolfsbane Potion. I thought he went out to buy some things for the house but, I was caught to be entering when I saw him painting something only he can recognize on the wall, wearing muggle mechanic's overalls splattered with multiple colors, varied pails of paint by his feet, varied issues of the Daily Prophet were on the ground, a paintbrush, with white paint dripped from the bristles, clutched in his hand.
He was as surprised as I was but he was much quicker to cover it with a huge smile than I did. His light brown hair was rather mussed, and his face with smudges of paint, his fingernails with mixed colors of paint beneath them, his soft gaze was with amusement. I didn't ask or say anything but I did wonder when Remus got in touch with his artistic side. I suddenly remembered my purpose of being in there. I went quickly to his bedside table, grabbed the flasks, and was stopped on my tracks when he touched my shoulder.
"Thank you, Harry." he said. I turned my head to look at him; my gaze caught his dark eyes of royal blue. All emotions that I've seen in his eyes were there and this particular glint in his eye that I always failed to recognize then. I lifted my right hand and placed it above his. And it was then that I felt the warmth of his hand and his kindness. I wanted to tell him desperately that if it weren't for him, I would be an abandoned creature by now. If it weren't for his kindness, I would have been surrendering myself to death and killing myself and the child that was growing inside me, the child that I loved so deeply. I gave his hand a pat twice and was about to go,
"Wait. Stay for a while, Harry. I want to show you something. It might clear out things a tad bit. And I hope it helps." I seemed reluctant at first; wanting to be alone like I have since the start of my depression. But, the shy look that Remus gave me The Lip that when Andrew was growing up learned it from him, finally willed me to give in and see what Remus had in store for me.
He held the paintbrush in his hand as he made big vertical lines of white on the wall with a lot of mixture of color and creatures only made by Remus's wild and broad imagination. I wondered, as I sat by his bed, what the head of an elephant was doing being stuck on the body of lion with a tail of a giraffe's or what the upper half of a fish was doing being bonded with the half of a hippo. Yet, there were other things even a child would recognize. There were thunder and lightning the color of red and the dark shade of vermilion, hearts the color of gold and lavender, stars of different sizes and copious points the color of blue, green, or orange.
My eyes scrutinized the wall before me, bearing what was going on inside of Remus's head. It revealed a new side of him, something the werewolf must have started when I moved in with Draco for I have never seen those creatures before, even when Sirius was alive.
I never noticed when he finished painting the wall a pristine white nor did I feel his weight beside me as he sat on the bedside with me, looking directly at the wall.
"When you left Grimmauld Place, I started painting on the wall, painting what I think about, what I feel, or what my heart needs to pour out. You see, Harry, sometimes, there are a lot of things or feelings that come in my life that as years go by, it's getting pretty hard to contain them in my mind and in my heart," at this point he was looking at me as if I were the only thing he has left in the world, "There are some things that make me feel so glad that I just want it to be permanent. So, I paint them on this wall. A few are so sad and so nightmarish that I wanted it to be banished from my mind so, I keep a reminder of the things that make me grim so as to make me stronger and braver to face my fears. And there are a few things that I made up—as you can see the peculiar creatures—that makes me feel that in some ways I am still human; that the werewolf side of me hasn't completely taken over me. I can still think like a human."
I looked at him as if he with confusion and wonder. He let out a sigh and I saw a sparkle in his eye and then again that glint that I haven't yet recognized by then, "Harry, since we have become closer, I was so happy and feeling so alive that you were the only person I cared about…after Sirius was gone. You held my hand when I was ill, you made me smile when I felt so lost," he smiled, showing his perfect set of pearly whites, "and after you moved in with Draco, I didn't know how to go back to the days when I didn't have you by my side. And I realized, I owed you a lot and you meant everything in my life. I understood then that the feeling was eating me up and I just had to…open up and let it go. 'Cause if I didn't, then I'd be moping around like a crazy old man, waiting for death."
I was shocked, to say the least. Remus wasn't one to express his feelings comfortably but I guess he needed to tell me those things just as I needed to hear them. But, that wasn't the only thing he opened. He opened my eyes as well. The emptiness inside me was eating me up; the thought of impossibility was killing me slowly. And it wasn't just making me suffer; I was dragging my child along with me to my doom. I looked at the man beside me and I thought I saw another man. Some stranger I didn't know. I thought: How could I possibly miss this side of Remus when I stayed with him after the war?
He took my hand and he opened it up, he smoothed it with his own hand like flattening a bed sheet with wrinkles. The warmth of his hand was burning inside of me a small flame, urging for me to go on. Then, he placed another paintbrush in my hand, clean and new. I returned my gaze at him and tried telepathically to give him my inquiries on this paintbrush he so suddenly placed in my hand.
"Now, Harry, I am offering you this wall that absorbed all my emotions that I've kept to myself for days, months, and years. I have emptied myself up and I think…and I think this is the right time for you to let out your emotions. To bring you back to us. I know that whatever you endured that night you came here, I'm sure emotions plagued you. That's why you're like this right now," he held out his hand and helped me stand up from shock and realization. He led me close to the wall, only a feet was parting us, "Lonely, Angry, Silent, Confused, Baffled…all mixed feelings that you have to let out. But of course, it's just my intuition as why you are like this. To why the sudden change in this course our lives are taking, Dumbledore and I must yet to know about. But right now, do this…as an output. As you know this was Sirius's room, and eventually it became my refuge. I feel that you need this more than I do," He placed a finger under my chin and he turns my head to look at him. I saw the real him, "I don't know why you're silent, Harry. But, I hope this helps." He gave me a friendly wink and he walked to the door and shut it behind him, leaving me all alone in his room.
I gave out a sigh, not knowing where or when to start this…output of emotions. I didn't know then that it was helping me at that time 'cause then for me it was just a hobby for me to burn my time while I was at Grimmauld Place…
I look at the wall and I still see the first words of my entrance back to normality, surrounded by the whimsical creatures of my mind, the anger, the hopes, the needs, and the passion.
'Because I don't want to…'
I feel a weight on my shoulder and the ticklish wisps of platinum blonde hair, a strong body of a young teenage boy lying right next to me on Remus's bed. My son is yet to become sixteen in months' time, so Apparition was yet to be used legally by my son. We are arrived at our destination in minutes and I look over at Andrew, my sweet teenage boy…
Andrew is the incarnation of everything most adored and cherished in this world. I knew, from the very first moment I cradled him in my arms almost sixteen years ago that I loved him with all my being. The beautiful baby boy in my sweaty arms sparked within me a fire blazed with joy, rejuvenation, and renewed hope.
He is the boy who saved my sanity and me even though he resembles so much like his father, whose one infidel act emblazoned in my mind and in my heart, memory of what he did and what it cost me.
When Andrew was placed in my arms for me to cradle him, after two slaps on his bottom and a shrill scream of a baby announcing its arrival in this world, I scrutinized his features. He looked so much like Draco. He got his platinum fair hair, very pale soft flawless skin, and the nose of an aristocrat. Yet, as I have inherited my mother's green emerald eyes, he too had the big orbs of an innocent child staring back at me. I felt so happy and I bet I had a goofy grin on my face like a boy in love for the first time, and his hands were tiny balls that I always kissed and bit at until he was old enough to retaliate.
My sweet, baby boy…
Andrew had the sweetest and plump lips, and his small tongue was darting in out while he was chewing air. He was tired and so was I but I waited for my little boy to sleep first before I gave myself to the land of dreams. Remus was by my side, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, and some of the people in the Order were waiting outside. Healers were cleaning up before the three of us and I felt so sated and mystified that for one moment I forgot all the horrible things that made me miserable.
When he was a child, people loved him in a snap. He was the perfect baby boy anyone could have. He was smart, he learned words early in his babyhood, he showed signs of powerful magic in his early childhood, a talent for Quidditch and other wizarding and muggle sports as well, and he was interested in shiny things and most of all: Light. He had the fairest, curliest of curls and I regretted the day I cut them against Remus's warnings of them not ever growing back. And it didn't, Andrew had his hair as fair and as tamed as Draco's own hair. Surprisingly, it only reminded me so little of Draco but, in fact, Andrew, in more than one way, is very different from his other father.
Andrew, by now, is better than me in Quidditch. He had the finesse and the speed of a great Seeker, the coordination of a Keeper, the strength of a Beater, and the intelligence and coverage of a Chaser. Best of all, he had the sportsmanship of a fine athlete. He is very tall for a fifteen year-old, almost six feet, light silvery-blonde hair, he has the most harming green eyes, a perfect smile, a symmetrical nose, and pale complexion; all of which he inherited from Draco except for the eyes
. He was modest and always soft-spoken even to those who really got onto his nerves. As a child, he liked to giggle and chuckle. A lot. He's witty and funny that he always makes me laugh till my tummy aches. Growing up, he showed signs of a nice, cute boy blossoming into a handsome young man. All the girls…and some minority of the boys were pining over him. For the shy ones, they admired him from a distance and sent him tokens of their teenage love. But, like me, Andrew is naïve and oblivious to these things. "They just gave me these, Pop. I don't know why but it's getting pretty irritating. Owls are always bombarding me, bringing these letters and chocolates every morning at breakfast when it's time for the mail delivery and it just makes me confused…"he always says in his letters from his school.
Pop. That's what Andrew likes to call me ever since he was a child. It was never 'Dad' or 'Father' or 'Daddy. Always…'Pop'.
What I like best about him is that he is very sweet for an adolescent boy. He is never embarrassed when I kiss him or when I hug him in front of strangers or his friends at that. Sometimes he's the one who embraces me with all his might or gives me a quick peck on the cheek or to say, 'I love you, Pop"
He's a very sensitive, honest, and loving young man. He is always frank, opinionated, and very intelligent. A very powerful young wizard, not even my reputation rivaled his. At times, when we have an argument or a heated discussion, we both know he always wins and that's when I am proud to say that he is my son. "Are you sure I'm right, Pop? Now let me prove to you that I am wrong and you are right…" I smile whenever I think about how arrogant and smug he can be like Draco.
Dumbledore was right after all. The child that I bore was something most splendid and powerful.
I feel the gentle vibration of my son's chest, and a sudden wetness on my shoulder. I look again at my beautiful boy and I see my angel with slightly red puffy eyes, and the light seeping through the bedside window is haloing his head. He looks so much younger than he is when he cries which isn't very often.
"What's wrong, Drew?" I ask.
He sniffed, he cuddles closer to me like he always did when he was little, his voice is cracked and I'm sure his throat hurts,
"I don't know, Pop. I guess I'm just mad at Dad. I mean he left us for good. He's really gone. It was already hard for me when you guys separated when I was seven, and I had to spend the summer here in London with him and the rest of the year with you in Carmel. And now…I only have one father left. Damn Pop, this is so frustrating. I wish he didn't die…" his voice, the tone of a growing young man.
I wince at the hurt in his tone and the innocence of a son who lost his father in his young years, like glass being smashed to a wall.
I hug him tightly to my chest and I feel him shaking and fresh tears being cried. I place my chin on his head and the fragrance of his choice of shampoo reaches my nose. I kiss my fair-haired child and I embrace him, promising silently that I'll never leave him.
"Andrew, I know. You're lucky that you knew him and loved him. I never knew your grandparents and I had to be stuck with my damned relatives. I know how you feel. Remus was a good man. A great man."
He pushes me away gently and he sits up on the other side of the bed. He looks over his shoulder, scrutinizes the wall. He asked me questions about it when he was a child and I gave him evasive answers and he learned not to question about it anymore. He sighs and looks at me,
"This sucks, Pop. This totally sucks." And he plucks a picture frame on the desk by the window. He places his hands over it. I walk over and I place both my hands on his broad shoulders. My hands are slightly calloused, hard, and sandy, the hands of a doctor, a Healer who saw people suffer, the hands, which belonged to a man who suffered for a long time.
"Pop, did you ever love Dad?" He glances my way, his eyes wary and inquisitive.
I take the picture away from his grasp, and see Remus and I, a boy in between us with fair curls of a cherub. Remus crouched down on one knee, and I in an Indian-sit position. Both of us were smiling and Andrew, a cute little baby with rosy cheeks, has a huge almost toothless smile.
"Of course I loved your dad. He helped me a lot…" I say this almost reluctantly, knowing that all his young life, I have lied to him in so many ways and I fear that one day, when the truth comes out, he may never trust me again.
I sigh, a heavy strangled sigh, "Remus was great father to you and a husband whom I will honor all my life."
TBC…
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Heya! Sorry this chapter took so long! Hahahaha! To tell you all guys the truth I kind of felt lazy to continue it since I'm scared that you might think this is so…shitty and crappy…hehehe! This is so long and I wish that you guys weren't that bored…hehehe! I so suck at this. Now, don't worry. I'll be adding Draco real soon, I didn't put all of the details in this one chapter only so you'll have to read the following chapters to know more and…I forgot to ask…would you guys want his (Draco) side of the story? To make it more look like he's the bad guy..heheheh! *smirks* I love bad boys…c;
For my response to the reviewers all I can say is: THANK YOU!! Y'all have been so kind and very responsive to Mend a Broken Heart… I couldn't respond to all of you right now coz if I do, I'll have to postpone posting this chapter up..heheh! Unless you don't mind, though? Hahaha!
But, I promise to respond to all those who reviewed and gave suggestions. If I don't, y'all could bugger me, email me all you want so that I'd be ticked off and then…let's see what happens…heheh!
So, is this Crap or what? Heheh! Please review and tell me what you think! Tell me if this is boring so I could re-edit it…tc!!!