Author: Ketty

Rating: Big fat G heh

Pairing: None!

Warnings: Absolutely nothing! Isn't that crazy? No slashy goodness, no controversial content, no nothing. Just a big fluffy old drabble with absolutely no point or plot whatsoever – but it made me feel good, writing criticism is appreciated, as always – might actually help me to write something decent for once.

Disclaimer: I do not, in any way own these characters. I recently read an article that was looking at fanfiction (nearly gave me a heart attack, I can tell you) which stated that these disclaimers mean nothing – and we're just as likely to get sued with or without them. I sincerely hope this isn't the case, but will reinforce that J.K Rowling does indeed own Harry Potter and all its characters etc.

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It took Remus and Severus a while longer to realise that he wasn't breathing. His eyes were open, a brilliant wet green and blinking. His fingers were tapping absentmindedly at the outsides of both thighs, and every now and again he would tilt his head to one side as he listened. But it wasn't until Remus drew him to his chest in a hug that had been a long time in coming did he realise that Harry Potter's chest was not expanding as it should.

From there it was just one long panicked trip to the Hogwarts Hospital wing.

Naturally, Dumbledore had wanted to know what had happened. Had Harry attained any injuries during his stay at the Dursleys, and was he depressed? How had Harry reacted to the appearance of his Professors? Was Harry a danger to himself? But Harry, who during the chaos of the escapade had seen an opportunity to catch up on some sleep, was nestled deep within the soft confines of his regular bed in the Hospital Wing and could give no replies for any of their questions. Remus and Severus certainly had no answers, and Albus lacked his usual omniscience – so that eventually the old Headmaster was forced to conclude that Harry had been so surprised to see them that he had simply – stopped – breathing. It was only a heartbeat after Dumbledore had made his way slowly from their sight that Remus made the startling realisation that Albus was reaching his 184th Birthday.

Poppy Pomfrey was not satisfied, and searched for everything. Sickness, disease, trauma due to abuse, rape, prolonged exposure to every dark curse imaginable and even a variety of the muggle cancers. But nothing was entirely conclusive, and Harry Potter did not wake up for two weeks.

It took Poppy Pomfrey a while longer to realise that Harry Potter, ironic as it was, did not suffer from any sort of affliction that could be cured with magic.

Harry Potter simply liked to hold his breath.

He would tell them later, guiltily, that it was a game that he had discovered during the long hours of suffocating darkness within the cupboard under the stairs at Privet Drive; one with which he would persevere until bright white spots danced in front of his eyes and his hunger would melt away.

Remus had refused to leave Harry's bedside. Sometimes he would clasp the boy's hands in his and bow his head close to Harry's chest to listen to the slow thudding of Harry's heart. It was during these sometimes in the night that Severus would creep up to the bed and take the boy's pulse, just to check if by some magnificent stroke of good fortune he had died in his sleep. As if he could be so lucky.

But Harry remained blissfully asleep, with only slight hitches in his breathing (all of which sent Remus into hysterics) and didn't look at all as though he was preparing to wake up any time in the near future. Poppy doubted he would arise in time to greet his friends at the start of the new school year. And as for Voldemort; that was a matter in itself.

And so Molly Weasley came to visit the sleeping Boy Who Lived. Upon haphazardly throwing down her umbrella and summoning up a seat, she proceeded to give Harry Potter the most forceful, furious telling-off she had ever given one of her sons – complete with lectures so full of reminders of her love for him and vigorous finger wagging that if he were to ever wake up the combination of guilt and mortification would surely send Harry back into a coma. But upon finishing her spiel, she removed his heavy quilt and replaced it with a lighter sheet (it was going to be a hot, rainy night) kissed the brow frowning at the removal of warmth and throwing a quick glance out at the sky filled with stars and rain clouds she left in time to be home for tea with Arthur after a long day at the ministry.

But Molly returned the next morning and threw open the Hospital wing curtains then drew up the lighting with a wave of her wand. Gently prodding Remus and Severus awake (Remus with his head on Harry's heart and Severus with his hand on Harry pulse) she pushed back the boy's fringe to kiss his forehead once more and announce firmly that it was time to wake up for breakfast.

And it wasn't until the Infirmary lights were switched on, and Harry came to realise that he wasn't so completely alone that he blinked his tired eyes open – replaced the glasses on his nose so that he could see things more clearly, and let out the long breath he had been holding