Chapter 21: Dreams may come
They sat, the four of them, Poppy, Harry, Draco and the Healer, in Vanes' office at a small table he had conjured for their tea. There was pumpkin juice and frosted buscuits for Harry, and Poppy was loath to admit how thoughtful that was of Vanes. She consoled herself slightly with the thought that it was probably a food-service witch or wizard who was responsible for the tea setting.
From the moment they entered the Healer's office, Harry hadn't said a word and he barely looked up to nod or shake his head when spoken to. Surely this was not the same boy who, earlier that very morning, had been jabbering nonstop about going to visit his 'fend Dayco'? Then, Harry had practically shaken with excitement and anticipation, but now he was subdued and shy, avoiding eye contact. Poppy noticed his face was flushed; perhaps he did not feel well?
The Malfoy boy's demeanor was only slightly better than Harry's. Despite impeccable Pureblood manners, which had no doubt been drilled into him from birth, he too could barely eke out his 'Please' and 'Thank you's. Thus, the conversation at tea, such as it was, well…wasn't. The two adults repeatedly attempted to engage the boys, but nothing seemed to bring them into anything resembling a conversation.
When Poppy announced that it was time to for them to leave, Harry gave a soft whinge of disappointment.
"But Pomfee, my not show Dayco my magical treatures book," he whispered plaintively.
"Harry, Healer Vanes and Draco may have other plans they need to be getting on to. And besides, we'll be coming back tomorrow. I'm sure you can show him then." Poppy's words seemed to mollify Harry somewhat, but he was still reluctant to leave.
Gathering his courage, Harry looked up directly at the Healer. "Pease sir, my show Dayco my booht bafore we goes? Pease?"
At this unexpected burst of language, Vanes looked nonplussed for a fleeting moment. The adults exchanged looks, silently agreeing to extend the visit to allow the sharing of the book. Then the Healer said to Harry, "Very well, you may stay a few more minutes."
It was as though that announcement had triggered Harry's ability to converse and he began in earnest telling Draco about his favorite animals from the book. He spoke quickly, barely stopping for breath.
"Dis am a mote. Dey gets big, fast! An' dis a hippagiff. Ahgi haves some in da forest an' Wiverwings yike me a yot! Dis a darvey, I gots a fend, Darvey, but she on hoyiday ." Harry checked to see if Madam Pomfrey was listening. She was, and at his next words, she had to stifle a laugh.
"Ahgi says dey haves 'tuyourful yangage dats not fit for po-yite tump-ny' an dat you should never say what dey say." He added in a whisper, "But my Darvey am funny! I show you when she tum bat."
For his part, Draco seemed to be making an effort to smile and nod in response to Harry's comments. And after about ten minutes, the Healer explained that he had other appointments and that it was time for Harry to go.
Harry accepted this pronouncement and became suddenly shy again. He mumbled a soft, "G'bye," to Draco and the Healer and with eyes once again downcast, followed Poppy out.
When the door closed behind the visitors, Draco let out a deep sigh and slumped onto the settee.
"I don't think this is working," he said, just as Snape said,
"This is working well. That was an adequate start."
The two Slytherins just looked at each other with veiled expressions for a moment. Again they spoke simultaneously.
"I'll just be going now," Draco mumbled.
"I shall see you tomorrow," said Snape, a near smile twitching at his lips.
~o~
The charm to alert Poppy if Harry was in distress went off, waking her immediately. She rushed to the nursery, and opened the door to see books and toys and clothes flying in a maelstrom around Harry's bed. With out thinking, she rushed forwards, buffeted by wind, and was struck in the temple by something hard. She could feel a telltale trickle of blood and held her arms up protectively until she reached the bed, ducking below the violently whirling debris.
"Harry! Harry, wake up, you're having a bad dream." She patted his cheek as she called to him, patting harder when the gentle taps had no effect.
Harry woke with a start, looking around wildly and reaching for his neck. When his eyes fell on Madam Pomfrey, Harry burst into tears, and the flying items fell to the floor with a startling crash.
"Da bad man," he gasped, "Hims arms was yike da giant sqid!" He could barely speak through his sobs, "… grabbin' me-ee-ee, – an' grabbin' Dayco an' – pease, Pomfee – don't yet him get us!"
"Hushhhh now, Harry. Calm down. Nobody's going to 'get you'," soothed Poppy. But her words had no effect; Harry kept shaking his head and sobbing.
"Don't get us – don't!"
"Shhhh, Harry. You were having a bad dream." She pulled Harry to her and held him close, patting his back gently and making more shushing sounds of reassurance. "You're safe at home, Harry. You're safe."
Harry took deep wavering breaths and pressed his head into Poppy's shoulder. "Him's gonna put bad bud in – in da piddy boy's head. An' – make him – b-be a bad boy, too," he cried piteously, now burying his head in her lap and gripping her nightdress.
"Lumos," Poppy incanted, and the torchiers on the walls lit up brightly. She took a deep breath and held Harry firmly by the shoulders. "Look at me Harry," she spoke with authority, and the change in her tone caught his attention. He stilled and slowly raised his tear-streaked face to meet her gaze. But whatever she was going to say next was lost, as Harry broke into hysterics once again.
"Oh, no, nooo! Da bad mans hurted you, too?"
Poppy had forgotten about her head wound. Though it was inconsequential, she realized how it must have appeared to Harry.
"I must look a fright, Harry, but really, I am fine." She gave a reassuring smile, pointed her wand to her temple and said, "Episkey," which she followed with a cleaning charm. "You see? All better. Now tell me about your dream."
"My …'deam'? What dat?" He had calmed down at the sight of her scar-free temple and now looked perplexed.
"You were having a bad dream, Harry. About a bad man? " At Harry's blank look, she added, Dreams are stories we see when we sleep, but Harry, I promise you, they are not real."
"No, Pomfee. Him's real." Harry raised a hand to his bandaged head.
"Were you dreaming about Lucius Malfoy? The man who hurt you in the forest?"
Harry nodded. "Hims put da bad-" Harry stopped speaking, a look of horror on his face. My not say it! My not! He shook his head vigorously. "Pomfee – don't yeave me. Don't go 'way!' He grabbed her nightdress once more, his knuckles white.
"Harry, I'm not going to leave you. I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here." She drew him to her again and patted his back gently. "The 'bad man' you dreamt of, Harry? You don't have to worry about him anymore. He is dead. He can never hurt you or anyone ever again."
Harry was quiet for a time. Then he whispered, "Dead…? Wif… Muma, Da-ee?" Fresh tears leaked from his reddened eyes.
Poppy was at a loss for words; she hadn't meant to make Harry more distraught, thinking of his parents. She forced herself to swallow past the lump in her throat and said with conviction, "No, Harry. He is not with them."
Poppy wasn't certain how best to explain, for Harry's understanding of death was, at this time, only that of a three year old's. "Harry, I don't believe that Lucius Malfoy could ever be with your Mummy and Daddy. He did terrible, bad things. And your parents were kind, wonderful people. They are in very different… uh, 'dead' places."
If Harry seemed satisfied with that answer, Madam Pomfrey couldn't tell. But, he didn't ask about it further, and she felt his body start to relax and his breathing slow as he drifted back to sleep. As she promised, she stayed with him the rest of the night. She conjured some extra pillows to lean on, and summoned some Pepperup Potion to keep her alert in case Harry had another nightmare.