Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction
BY LARGEMARGE
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, y'all. Virus troubles on my computer. 'Nuff said.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, blah blah blah.
Healing and Other Stuff
"Oh, Madame Pomfrey, isn't Harry ever going to wake up? I'm so terribly worried about him," a sultry but terribly worried voice spoke near Harry's ear.
"Now, now. You'd better run to class, hadn't you?" Madame Pomfrey reprimanded.
Harry struggled to open his eyes, desperate to know who was so worried about him, as well as who was the owner of that terribly sexy voice.
But alas, when he finally pried his eyelids open, it was to find a blurry Madame Pomfrey staring down at him.
"Finally decided to wake up, did you, Mr. Potter. How're you feeling?"
Harry pushed himself to a sitting position and donned his glasses. "What happened?" he asked with confusion, looking around him. What was he doing in the hospital wing? And more importantly, who was the owner of the sultry voice that was so worried about him? Cho? Hermione? Maybe even Ginny, Harry thought. He seemed to have a dim memory of her, looking somewhat like a Swedish supermodel...
"Captured by the dark lord, Potter," an irritated voice reminded him from the doorway.
Harry glanced over to catch Snape's malevolent glare. "Oh, yeah, that," he answered feebly, as the memories came flooding back.
"I've just brought Potter's supply of potions for the day," Snape said, setting a tray down on the bedside table. The tray was covered with five or six different potions of varying color and hue.
"Wait a minute," Harry spoke without thinking. "Why is he making my potions? I'm not drinking any of that."
Madame Pomfrey joined Snape in glaring down at him, and Harry shrunk back into the bed.
"I don't make potions for my own amusement, Potter," Snape sneered at him.
"And I don't have time to do everything around here," Madame Pomfrey said, putting her hands on her hips. "What do you think I am, a miracle worker? I slave and I slave, and it's never enough. I watch over these idiot children when they try to kill themselves..." she walked away, muttering to herself. "I swear...it's never enough..."
Harry stared mutely at Professor Snape.
"You will drink these potions, Potter, and you will not complain, or it's fifty points from Gryffindor."
Harry looked at the potions, then back at Snape, who raised an eyebrow.
"Well?"
Harry folded his arms. "Maybe you're just trying to poison me."
Snape sneered in disgust. "Use your brain, Potter. After risking everything to save you from the dark lord, why would I try and kill you now?" He paused. "Although it is tempting, I'll admit."
Harry glared. "Fine, I'll drink your stupid potions. But this doesn't mean I like you."
Snape sniffed and whirled to go in a billow of dark robes. Suddenly he paused and turned back. "Not even a little?" he asked in a small voice.
Harry was spared from replying when a voice from the doorway called at that moment, "Harry!"
It was Hermione, and after a brief hesitation at sight of Snape, she rushed to Harry's side anyway, followed by Ron.
"Are you feeling better?" she asked, as Snape left the room.
"He's creepy," Ron observed.
"I'm fine," Harry said, though he eyed the potions a little warily.
"Oh, we were so worried!" Hermione held him in a tight hug that was clearly platonic to everyone watching. Which was only Ron, who felt a little jealous anyway, even though it was only platonic. Purely platonic. Meaning it didn't mean anything other than friendship. Because Harry and Hermione were only friends. Yes, sir. Nothing beyond that at all. Platonic. Yep.
"What was it like being held captive by You-Know – I mean...Voldemort?" Ron asked, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from platonic hugging.
Harry shivered and looked down. He hadn't quite brought his thoughts around to that yet. That...horror. That truly terribly awful horrible experience that was destined to plague his dreams for months and years to come, or until the end of this fanfic, at the very least.
"Ron!" Hermione shoved him. "How could you bring that up? Sometimes you're so tactless, I swear..."
They moved a few feet off and held an intensely whispered conversation while Harry stared at his knees, trying to recover from the overwhelming anguish that had overwhelmed him.
Finally the two moved back toward him.
"Sorry, Harry," Ron apologized with a lopsided grin.
"It's fine," Harry reassured, now more collected himself.
"Have you heard any of the news?" Hermione asked, sitting down on the edge of his bed.
"What news?" Harry sat up straighter, sounding interested. "I haven't heard anything. Are the professors all right? Hagrid was hurt, wasn't he? Is he okay?"
"He's fine," Hermione reassured. "Stunned. There was only one casualty. On our side, anyway."
"Mrs. Norris," Ron chimed in, sounding gleeful.
"Filch's cat?" Harry asked, confused.
"Mm-hmm. One of the death eaters tried to stun Filch, and the cat jumped in the way. Apparently the shock of it killed her. And then they ended up stunning Filch anyway." Ron snickered.
Hermione shoved him. "I thought it was very noble," she reprimanded him.
Ron snorted. "Yeah. I only hope Crookshanks suffers a similar fate very soon."
She glared.
"Guys, the news?" Harry reminded them.
"I apologize for Ronald's behavior," Hermione said stiffly, turning away from Ron. Behind her Harry saw Ron roll his eyes.
"You've missed the sorting, Harry," Ron said.
"And the feast," Hermione added.
"Yeah, classes started two days ago."
"Wonderful," Harry said. "I'm already behind."
"Don't worry. You can borrow my notes," Hermione immediately chimed in. "And all the professors are really understanding, really. I mean, you can't help it you were kidnapped by Voldemort."
"And you don't need to worry about Defense Against the Dark Arts," Ron reassured. "Professor Hodgepodge has started us on stuff we learned in second year. So far she thinks we're all geniuses."
"Hodgepodge?" Harry asked blankly.
"Buttercup Hodgepodge," Hermione recited knowledgeably. "Former Auror and graduate of Hogwarts."
"Oh."
Ron nudged him. "Not bad to look at either, mate."
Hermione snorted in disgust. "Honestly, Ron. I can't believe you just said that."
He held his hands out. "I can't help it if it's true!"
"You're disgusting." She folded her arms and glared.
"Er...well, I guess we'd better be going," Ron said after an uncomfortable silence.
Hermione finally spoke up. "Yeah, it looks like you've got a few potions to drink there, Harry." She gave him one final entirely, wholly, purely platonic hug with the sole purpose of conveying only friendship and nothing more. Ron gave him a thumbs up behind her back, mouthing the words, Professor Hodgepodge...what a babe!
Harry was adept at lip-reading, among other things.
When they were gone he quickly downed the potions.
"Have you a moment, Harry?" a quiet voice spoke from the doorway. Dumbledore moved into his line of vision.
"Hello, Professor," Harry said dreamily, settling back against the bed. "So tired...sleeping potion, maybe..."
"I just wanted you to know how glad I am you're back among us," Dumbledore said. "You've saved us all from certain death once again."
"Sssnothing, Professor," Harry said vaguely, blinking very slowly in an attempt to stay awake.
"Well, you sleep now, Harry. But when you're feeling more up to it, there's something I need to talk to you about. Something very important..."
Harry's eyes drifted closed.
"The way you're going to defeat Voldemort once and for all..." Harry thought he heard Dumbledore say, before he drifted into a pleasant doze.
He dreamed of Voldemort. And awoke screaming.
"Harry! Harry, what's the matter?"
The sultry voice was back.
Harry shoved his glasses on his face and sat up.
A Swedish supermodel had come to visit.
"Ginny?" he asked blankly. "What are you doing here?"
"I had to see you," she said. "To see that you were all right...with my own eyes..."
"Well, I'm fine," Harry said brightly.
"But you were screaming," Ginny reminded him, laying a hand on his arm.
Harry jumped and shoved her hand off as though it were a red-hot poker.
Jumpy, Harry was.
Ginny looked momentarily confused. "Are you sure you're all right, Harry?"
Harry considered for a moment. "I just had a bad dream," he finally admitted.
"About Voldemort?" she asked bluntly.
He hung his head. "Yes," he whispered. "I wish it would all just go away. I wish he would stop tormenting me."
"Oh, my poor Harry," Ginny murmured, holding him close in a clasp that he was certain was meant to convey feelings that were slightly more than platonic.
But he couldn't tell her. Even though she was the one...the only one that really mattered...Harry knew he couldn't involve her in his dangerous life. He was constantly dueling it out with Voldemort, and he couldn't ask Ginny to be involved in a life so uncertain. Even though she already was and his reasoning was completely faulty...he just couldn't ask her to do that...not for him, even though she more than likely loved him madly, just as he loved her...madly...
"Harry?" Ginny's voice jolted him back to reality.
"Uh...ahem. Ginny." Harry straightened and ran a hand through his hair. "Yes. As you can see, I'm perfectly fine. You should probably go now."
"Are you sure?" she asked uncertainly. "Wouldn't you like me to stay...and hold you some more, maybe?" she asked hopefully.
Harry cleared his throat. "No, you'd better go. You probably have better things to do, anyway."
"Than be with you, Harry?" she asked reproachfully.
"Yes, just go then," he said with a wave of his hand. "I'm tired anyway."
"Well...okay. If you're sure," she said hesitantly.
Harry settled back down in the bed, pulling the covers up around his ears. "Goodbye," he said in a muffled voice through the blankets.
"Goodbye," she said, sounding a bit forlorn.
Then she was gone.
After a moment Harry shook his fist at the ceiling. Curse you, Voldemort! He raged silently. If it weren't for you...I could be with my lady love! We'll settle this one day soon! Once and for all!
When he went back to sleep, his nightmares were even worse.
Author's Note: OC's annoy me. Alas, I found I had to insert one. Forgive me.
You like? Let me know. Hate it? Tell me that too. My wish for all kind reviewers: May the bird of paradise fly up your nose.
