A/N: "The glumbumble is a grey, furry-bodied flying insect that produces melancholy-inducing treacle" (Rowling, 2001). Points to anyone who knows what a jobberknoll is!
As to the title of this chapter, guess who saw Mr Radcliff on Broadway the week she wrote the first draft of this chapter (oh, so long ago)?
Chapter 22: How To Succeed In Potty Training Without Really Trying
In the morning, Madam Pomfrey left Harry having a quiet breakfast with Dobby, so she could go to her office and floo-call Healer Vanes.
"To what do I owe this… interruption?" was the Healer's terse greeting.
It was fine with Poppy if Perseus Vanes wanted to skip pleasantries. She was perfectly happy to get right to the point. "Harry had night terrors last night – with an extremely violent outburst of accidental magic!" That got the Healer's attention, and Poppy felt a small amount of satisfaction, though she did not expect the feeling to last.
"Was he hurt?" Vanes set his quill down, eyes narrowed.
"Thankfully, no." Poppy was momentarily taken aback by the man's sudden concern. "But he might have been!" She purposefully did not mention her own injury, certain that Vanes would somehow use it against her.
"Indeed," the Healer returned to a tone of disinterest and again took up his quill. "If that is all…?"
"Ind-? Yes, indeed! And, no, that is not all! This all happened because Harry saw the Malfoy boy yesterday," she accused. "Last night Harry dreamt that Lucius Malfoy was viciously attacking him and Draco. Healer Vanes, I knew it was a mistake to let him see the younger Malfoy, and I do not want Harry to have any further contact with him!" She knew she sounded slightly unbalanced, yet she couldn't seem to stop the words from rising in pitch as they tumbled out.
Vanes stood up and walked around his desk to stand in front of the grate. He waited there a full minute before replying evenly, "Ah. Madam Pomfrey, may I remind you that you agreed not to interfere with my methods? In fact, Madam, I believe it would be most beneficial for Harry to see Draco as soon as possible, to reassure him that his dream was false. We shall expect you at half nine."
With that, The Healer stepped away from the grate. He went back to his desk and picked up his quill. The Hogwarts Matron was stunned speechless by the Healer's abruptness. She withdrew from her own grate and slumped back against the fireplace. At last, she rose to her feet and slowly made her way back to her chambers to ready Harry for the visit. By the time she got there, Harry had finished eating. The boy looked so despondent as he and Dobby sat side by side, a large Magical Creatures book open on their laps. If she didn't know better, Poppy would have thought that Dobby had accidentally used glumbumble in Harry's porridge. If only it were that simple. She longed for simplicity – in anything! But Dobby was nothing if not doting and devoted to Harry, and would never make such a mistake. The little elf turned a page slowly, watching Harry's face all the while. But Harry appeared not to even notice the change in the pictures before him.
"I just spoke to Healer Vanes," began Poppy as she stepped into the room. She took a fortifying breath before continuing with an attempt at a smile plastered on her face. "He has invited us to come and see him – and Draco – this morning."
Dobby scowled at the mention of his former master's heir, but upon seeing Harry's expression, he held his tongue.
Harry's eyes widened and he looked at first hopeful, and then afraid. "A'day, Pomfee?"
"Um hmm," she replied. "Why don't you and Dobby finish up that book, and then we shall get ready to go."
"Oh, Mr Harry Potter is almost knowing this whole book by heart! Harry Potter is being a very clever wizard," gushed the elf.
Harry ducked his head and blushed at the praise. "My am done wif da booht, Pomfee. My gets ready a'see Dayco now?"
It galled Poppy to admit to herself that Vanes was likely right about Harry needing to see the Malfoy boy again. She had further evidence of this when, upon answering Harry with a, "Very well," the boy leapt up and ran into the nursery, returning in short order with his traveling robe in one hand and the wooden Hungarian horntail which Hagrid had carved for him in the other.
"My pease show Dayco dis?" he asked, holding up the dragon.
"Of course, Harry. I'll go fetch my robe and we can go." As she donned her own traveling robe, and helped Harry with the clasp on his, Poppy steeled herself for what she was sure would be an unparalleled attitude of pomposity from Perseus Vanes. Knowing she might just deserve an, 'I told you so', from the man only deepened her dread.
~o~
"My apologies, Madam Pomfrey, Harry. It is not like Draco to be late." Severus was inwardly furious that his godson had chosen this of all moments to break form. As Harry let out yet another apprehensive sigh, Severus could feel the 'I told you so' emanating from the Hogwarts Matron.
A tentative knocking on the door put a welcome end to the building tension.
"Enter, Draco." The Healer's tone was mordant, and though Harry had looked up at the quiet knock, as soon as the Healer spoke, he ducked his head back down and began to rock slightly back and forth nervously.
"I'm sorry I'm late, Sir. Nurse Ackerl-" The glare from his godfather stopped Draco mid sentence. Severus shifted his eyes, directing Draco to observe Harry rocking on the settee. Madam Pomfrey was gently patting his back giving Draco a glare that rivaled his godfather's.
"As I mentioned earlier, Draco, Harry had a disturbing nightmare about you, and he has been keen to ensure that you are unharmed."
"Oh," was all Draco could manage. Severus leveled Draco with another pointed look and again inclined his head towards the settee. "Erm, hullo, Harry. I'm, uh, not hurt at all." This was patently untrue, as he had just escaped from a rather vicious arm twist at the hands of Nurse Ackerly. The burly Nurse had taken it upon himself to eject Draco from the tea room for "unapproved loitering" of all things. Despite knowing it would not be well received, Draco couldn't stop himself from making a smart retort. This was met with an additional shove against the corridor wall. He rubbed his arm unconsciously at the memory, and when Severus placed the visitor's chair next to the settee, and gestured for Draco to sit, he did so.
Against her own desires, Poppy prompted her charge to greet the new arrival with a hushed, "Manners, please, Harry."
"'Lo," murmured Harry in minimal greeting. Then he slowly looked up at Draco's forehead and tentatively reached a hand towards the other boy's fringe, brushing it shakily to the side. There was nothing there! The air rushed out of his lungs as his shoulders sagged in relief.
"Well then," the Healer clapped his hands together, efficiently startling all present. "Time for tea." With a casual flick of his wand, Severus made the round table appear. It was set with service for four with a very simple tea and ginger biscuits. "Sit down, gentlemen, and do begin. Madam Pomfrey and I have a brief matter to attend to, and shall return shortly."
This pronouncement had a startling effect almost equal to the handclap of a moment before. Draco paled in panic, and Madam Pomfrey's lips pressed together tightly, her disapproval evident. However, she followed the Healer out with quick pat to Harry's arm, followed by a gentle push at his back towards the table.
"Go ahead, dear. We'll be right back."
Before the door had even clicked shut, Draco had mastered himself and took on the role of host. "Please, sit down, won't you, Harry? Uh, no pumpkin juice today, I'm afraid." What the hell was Severus thinking? "Would you like some tea?" Because three-year-olds just love tea.
Harry nodded mutely and he took the proffered seat as Draco poured out some tea for each of them.
"Sugar?" Harry's nod brought a smile to Draco's lips as he remembered his and Harry's encounter with sugar in Hagrid's hut. He put three lumps in Harry's and one in his own cup. Offers of cream and biscuits were similarly met with silent nods.
Draco struggled to think of what to say to get Harry to speak with him. Severus' instructions had been most clear: he wanted Harry to feel "completely at ease" on his visits. He had been significantly less clear on just how Draco was to achieve that goal. 'Speak simply and kindly to him. Cajole him as any good Slytherin would a three-year-old in his care,' his godfather had said. Draco had responded at the time that a truly 'good' Slytherin wouldn't find himself in the position of needing to care for a three-year-old in the first place (a comment that was not well received, as he recalled).
"So, uh, Harry. I see you've brought something different today."
A nod.
Well, I can see this is going to go about as well as expected, Draco groused silently. "May I see it?"
Another nod. Then Harry went to retrieve his toy from the settee. He held the dragon up for Draco to see.
"Is that a hippogriff?" Draco thought to ask.
"No," Harry sounded surprised. "You not know 'bout dagons?"
"Uh, not really. Perhaps you could tell me about them?" He gestured for Harry to join him at the table. When Harry hesitated, Draco urged, "I really want to learn about them, Harry. Come sit," he patted the seat of the chair beside him. "You can bring your dragon."
Harry chewed on his lower lip and whispered, "Pomfee say, 'No toys at da table.' Dat's mannerses."
"Of course. Erm, you have excellent manners. We can finish our tea after." Draco joined Harry and made a show of looking at the wooden toy from all angles. "It looks rather scary. You must be very brave."
Harry studied the dragon anew and absently began petting it. "It not a reaw dagon. It just a 'tend one."
"Oh, erm. Of course," Draco was at a loss at how to proceed. Thankfully, Harry continued talking.
"Deams is just a'tend, too. Dey happens when you go a'seep. My not be bave about dem." He frowned at this. "But Pomfee say dey not reaw." He looked up again and brushed Draco's fringe aside. "Dey not. You gots no bad bud?" He touched his own bandaged forehead.
"Bad… you mean a scab like yours? No, I don't have one. I am fine, Harry. Really." Draco asked, "What exactly is 'bad bud'?" He really needed lessons on how to speak 'three-year-old'.
"Dagons beaves fiyew," Harry said, acting as though Draco had not spoken. "Dey can fly yike birds an' deir babies tum fum eggs yike birds. But birds not beaves fiyew." He put the toy back down on the settee and returned to the tea table. He dipped a biscuit into his teacup and set it down on the saucer untouched. "Dat good, you gots no owies. My no yike bad deams."
Draco rejoined Harry at the table and an uncomfortable silence ensued – from Harry, because he was lost in thought, and from Draco, because he was without a clue as to what Harry was talking about, or how to proceed. When the office door opened and Madam Pomfrey preceded the Healer into the room, it was Draco's turn to let out a sigh of relief.
"I trust you gentlemen are enjoying your tea?" Severus' expression let Draco know what he thought of his entirely too audible sigh.
"Actually, Sir, Harry was teaching me a bit about dragons. Why, we almost forgot about your tea." His voice was a tad derisive. It wasn't his fault that he didn't know how to draw Harry out. And having an unappealing spread for tea certainly wasn't helping matters any.
"I see. Perhaps Harry can continue that when he returns. I'm sure Harry has more dragon lore to share with you, Draco. So, Harry, can we expect you to return to us tomorrow?"
Harry looked up hopefully at his caregiver. "We tum bat a'morrow?"
"I'm sure that will be fine, Harry. You used to come to St. Mungo's everyday when you were learning to walk, remember?"
Harry nodded in reply.
"Excellent," interrupted the Healer. "I don't see why you shouldn't return to that practice. I'm sure Draco, would appreciate more visits from you."
At a nudge from Severus, Draco chimed in, "Yes! That would be great, Harry. You could show me more of your books and toys."
At this pronouncement, Harry suddenly stood up, knocking his chair back in his haste, and threw his arms around a stunned Draco. "My do dat, Piddy Boy! My gots a booht about dagons an' I tan bing it a'morrow!"
Draco awkwardly patted Harry on the back. "Y-yeah. Great," he said, voice cracking.
"Time to go now, Harry. Hagrid will be waiting for us." At Poppy's words, Harry released Draco, gathered up his dragon and waved goodbye.
Once their guests had departed, Draco downed the rest of his tea and poured a cup for Severus before refilling his own. "The tea was a big hit," he said sarcastically.
"That was rather the point."
"Excuse me?"
"Knowing Harry's predilection for sweets, I did not want him distracted from speaking with you."
"Speaking of 'speaking with me', Severus, a little more direction would be appreciated." Draco stirred his tea angrily. "Why would I know anything about three-year-olds?"
"You did very well indeed, Dragon. It would seem you know more than you realize. Remember, it is important for Harry to feel comfortable here. I want him to be able to be alone with you, so that I may monitor his …more unguarded behaviour, and alone with me, so that I may delve deeper into-"
…Severus was talking to him, Draco realized with a start. He looked up guiltily at his godfather. But instead of his 'fade out' being met with the anger he was expecting, Severus' next words were spoken gently.
"Draco, you will improve. It takes time and you must keep trying. I realize it is difficult to believe, but there will come a time when you will be able to leave St. Mungo's and live your life.
~o~
The rest of the week seemed to drag by for Poppy, who escorted Harry to St. Mungo's for the next four days. Harry looked forward to each visit with eager anticipation. His enthusiasm for something – anything – was a welcome change, but spending time in the presence of Healer Vanes was quite a chore to be borne. At breakfast, Harry told Poppy what he was planning on bringing to show to Draco, and at lunch she listened while he gave a full recounting of the visit to Dobby.
Saturday came as a relief to Poppy (and to Dobby, who was having a time of it, trying to show interest and encouragement around anything Malfoy.) But it was short lived, due to an owl arriving at breakfast, asking her to meet with Vanes the next morning. The missive had her fuming, not so much due to its content – which was surprisingly cordial – but because of its unfortunate timing. Just when she was getting ready to unwind and enjoy a weekend at home with Harry! Why couldn't the Healer have asked her in person on Friday, rather than interrupting her Saturday like this. Was the man purposefully trying to get her goat? She had half a mind to sic one of Aberforth's hoofed friends on the man. He could use a good head butt to the rump!
Her logical mind knew, of course, that this was not an appropriate response and that she was likely overreacting. Perhaps something had come up since their visit the day before? This man, as maddening as he was, was trying to help her Harry. Still, she had been so relishing the thought of a break from dealing with Vanes, and she wanted to tell her logical mind to go stuff a bludger.
Poppy greeted the next morning's sunrise with a huff of resentment. Ron arrived late to watch Harry – for which he received a frightful glare that promised Madam Pomfrey would be having words with him later. Subsequently, Poppy herself was late arriving at Vanes' office. At her prim rap on the door, it opened. Vanes, she saw, was as he appeared before all her previous meetings with him: busy. Poppy cleared her throat and took a step forward, waiting in the doorway to be formally invited the rest of the way in.
The Healer finished scratching out the line he was writing and set his quill in its holder. "Ah, Madam Pomfrey, you are here," he stated unnecessarily, and gestured for her to take a seat.
"My apologies, Healer Vanes. I value punctuality; my delay was, however unavoidable."
"No matter. I shall get straight to the point."
This did not surprise Poppy in the least. She nodded for him to proceed, as she wished to have this meeting over with as quickly as possible.
"Harry's visits have been going quite well. I had correctly anticipated that having Draco present would hasten Harry's comfort level more rapidly than even I had imagined.
"I imagine you both must be rather well versed in dragon lore, then," quipped Poppy.
"Indeed. My plan is that after another week of these visits, Harry will be accepting enough for me to begin using Legillimency."
Despite her having agreed to this course of action, despite her agreeing not to interfere, and especially despite her infernal logical mind telling her she was courting some dangerous denial, Poppy said, "I don't know that that will be necessary after all, Healer Vanes. Harry has shown no signs of self injurious behaviour –"
"Madam Pomfrey," Vanes cut in sharply, "perhaps you imagine that the reasons behind Harry's past self-injurious behaviours have simply vanished."
It was not said as a question, though, and Poppy had had no argument for the man. Upon further reflection, as she was riding the lift back down to the lobby, she was somewhat mortified to have revealed a rather unprofessional side of herself to a colleague. Even if it was to a colleague whom she detested beyond measure.
~o~
Harry was wriggling from side to side, sitting on the wall at the edge of the bailey. He and Ron had been tossing biscuit crumbs out to a jobberknoll, who refused to eat them (even when Ron charmed them to look like flies), and a chubby squirrel, who ate them whatever shape they were.
Reluctantly, Ron asked, "Erm, Harry, you don't need to use the loo, do you?"
Harry, not wanting to stop feeding the creatures, replied with a noncommittal sort of sound before returning to crumbling biscuits.
Harry was still in nappies, but Madam Pomfrey had left a scroll of instructions for Ron reminding him to try to get Harry to use the loo. To Run's utter horror, the Matron had written that it would be "particularly helpful" for Ron to take him, as he was "equipped to demonstrate the proper method for –" he was barely able to bring himself to read the rest of the missive. It wasn't often that Ron thought this, but just then, he wished he were a Slytherin, so he could pretend he didn't notice Harry's obvious need.
"Come on, mate," he said, jumping down from the wall. He reached a hand up to help Harry, saying, "After the loo, we can go to the kitchens and get a treat from Dobby. I'll even let you tickle the pear." As Ron had suspected that did the trick, though part of Ron really wished it hadn't. He was not looking forward to giving Harry this particular lesson.
As they approached the corridor with the toilets near the great hall, Harry veered left towards the girls' bathroom.
"No, Harry. That's for girls. C'mon. We go in here."
"But 'Moine tated me in dat one." Harry pointed to the left. He was very nervous about bathrooms in general. He didn't like the flushing noise, he didn't like how the seat felt cold on his bottom when he sat down, and he definitely didn't like the idea of following Ron into an unfamiliar one.
Uncharacteristically, Ron held firm on this. "I am not taking you to the Girls'." He opened the door to the Boys' loo and sharply gestured for Harry to go in. Harry was so surprised by Ron's tone he obeyed without further argument. This, in turn, surprised Ron, who filed this amazing new strategy away for future use with Harry.
Harry stopped abruptly when he spied the row of urinals. "Why dey put dose funny baftubs on da wall, Non-Non?"
"Those aren't bathtubs, Harry. They're urinals. Erm, you know, that's were boys… go."
Harry clearly did not know, and his eyes boggled wide. He took a step back and bumped into Ron. "Uh, my no gots a go, Non-Non," he blurted.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Ron could see that the other boy was scared. "It's just a urinal. Nothing to be afraid of. Give it a try, go on," he encouraged.
But Harry just shook his head and whispered, "My n-not wanna sit down dere."
"You're not gonna… oh. Oh! No, Harry. You don't sit in a urinal. You stand up." Ron couldn't believe what he was about to do, but clearly, Madam Pomfrey was right. Only another boy could show Harry what to do; he was surrounded by females most of the time. He, Hagrid and Dobby were the exceptions, as far as Ron new. He imagined that it would be too frightening (or, rather, intimidating) to have Hagrid show Harry what to do – and then instantly wished he hadn't imagined that. And he definitely did not want to think about house-elf anatomy.
Here goes, he marshaled himself. "Uh, you do it like this." Ron stepped in front of the closest urinal and undid his zip. "You, uh, aim it in there," he said, blushing beet red as he demonstrated.
Harry stared in fascination as the yellow stream hit the porcelain wall and slid down to the drain. "Oh," he said. And after a beat, asked hesitantly, "My try dat?"
"Yeah–" Ron started to say, when an enormous spray of water erupted from the next urinal over and a transparent girl in school robes and glasses flew up through the porcelain.
" – aaaaahg!" Ron finished and fell back on his arse with a splash. He scrambled to roll over with his back to the ghost, and landing his knees in the water, tucked himself away. "Bloody Myrtle! What th–" he was interrupted again, this time by Harry's shout.
"It da Peet-a-boo Girl, Non-Non! Huyo, Peet-a-boo Girl!"
"The 'peek-a-boo girl'? That's just creepy. Myrtle, what the bloody hell are you doing here? This is the Boys'!"
"I'm dead, not stupid, Ronald Weasley! I just wanted to say hello to Harry." She smiled, moony-eyed at him as she said this.
"Huyo," said Harry. "You mate a big mess, Peet-a-boo Girl. Yook at Non-Non's tousers."
"Oh, well, it's just a little water," she said dismissively. "It's good to see you again, Harry."
"When was the last time you saw him – and where?" asked Ron suspiciously.
"On a'nover day! She peet out my baf! Wader spashed evywhere, an' Pomfee was reaw mad, too!"
The memory seemed an amusing one to Harry, rather than upsetting. It still creeped Ron out considerably.
"Yes, well, she forbade me to enter the bathrooms in her suite. I cried and cried, and I've been waiting for Harry to come use a school bathroom ever since."
"That's just… Never mind. Sod off, Myrtle. No girls allowed."
"Everybody is sooooo mean to me," cried the ghost.
"No cry, Peet-a-boo Girl. You tan stay. Pease, Non-Non?"
"No. Way. Out, Myrtle, before I call Professor McGonagall on you."
"Hmph! Fine! I know when I'm not wanted," and with that, she dove back down the drain, sending a huge spray of water at Ron yet again.
"I really don't think she does," muttered Ron, wiping ineffectually at his sopping trousers. "Come on, Harry. I'm rubbish at drying spells. Let's go up to Gryffindor Tower. I bet I can find something to wear in the lost and found."
Harry readily followed Ron out, glad that the other boy seemed to have forgotten all about wanting Harry to pee in the strange wall toilet. Besides, it was too late anyways.
Up in the Gryffindor common room, while Ron sifted through a trunk of left-behinds, Harry walked around exploring. There were large tapestries on the wall with pictures of unicorns and lions, armored knights and ladies in fancy dresses. There was a big board with tattered papers pinned to it, with grownup words, but also some with pictures – Harry recognized a page from the Marvin the Muggle comics. The furniture was big and red and poufy, and the armchair Harry stopped in front of while he was looking at the board looked very inviting. Checking to see that Ron was still busy, Harry threw himself into the chair, which seemed to give him a little welcoming hug. Except then he felt something poking into his leg. A colourful little box was peeking out of the crevice between the seat cushion and the armrest.
Curious, Harry pulled it out and opened it up. Candy! The box was mostly filled with empty wrappers, but there were still a few pieces left of round, pastel coloured confections. Harry gingerly touched one with a finger. It was cold! It looked like a little ball of ice cream. With a surreptitious glance Ron's way, Harry lifted a pale orange sweet out of its paper and popped in his mouth. It didn't quite taste like ice cream, but it was sweet, and cold, and delicious. And as Harry ate another – this time he chose a pink one – he felt a strange sensation. It was as if the poufy chair was pushing him up and out of it. Only he wasn't falling on the rug. He was hovering just above his seat. He couldn't help but laugh in delight, as he ate the last chilly sweet.
Ron looked up and spied the bright box Harry held in his hand as he floated two feet or so above his chair. "Oh, no! Where did you get those?" He slapped a palm to his head. "Levitating sherbet balls. Of course. On my watch," he grumbled softly. He almost added, 'What else could go wrong,' but thought better of tempting fate, given his luck thus far. "How many did you have, Harry?"
"Uh, all of dems?" he answered meekly. And then, suddenly, he felt very, very bad. How could he be so selfish and not share the treats with his friend? And then he remembered. He was bad. Turning more and more bad. And he hadn't done anything to try to stop it in a long time. Without thinking, he reached up to the plaster on his forehead and started scratching it and rapping on it with his knuckles. He knew he would never get the plaster off and tears started leaking down his cheeks.
"Stop, Harry, stop!" Ron ran to him frantically and reached up to hold his hands still. "It's okay. It's not that big of a deal. They'll wear off in a bit and you'll be back to normal in no time." His words did not seem to soothe Harry at all, and not for the first time that day, Ron thought, Why, WHY didn't I ask Hermione to come?
~o~
Harry had finally calmed down and come down from the levitation candies, and was letting Ron read to him from The Adventures of Wizard Glick, when Madam Pomfrey returned. She was already angry with Ron for being late, and now he had to tell her about failed bathroom trips, levitating sherbet balls, and worst of all, that Harry had tried to hurt himself again.
When he had finished relating the events of the morning, and when Madam Pomfrey had finished telling him exactly what she thought about his ability to care for Harry and keep him safe, Ron felt like an over-used bludger. Madam Pomfrey was so angry with him, he was afraid she wouldn't let him come back to see Harry ever again. He was completely miserable. Instead of flooing back to The Burrow, he went to Hogsmeade, and Apparated to Hermione's from there.
Hermione listened sympathetically to Ron, as he described what had happened, and she put her arm around his shoulder, giving him a squeeze. "Oh, Ron," she soothed, guiding him to sit down on the sofa. "She just needs some time. You know the second Harry asks to see you, Madam Pomfrey will acquiesce. What happened with you could have happened with anybody."
"It wouldn't have happened with you," Ron murmured.
"Well, no. I suppose not," conceded Hermione. "But I'm sure she will realize –"
"I don't think so, Hermione. You didn't see her. She was so furious with me. I've never seen her like that – she could've given Snape a run for his money."
"Ron, I'm sure you're exaggerating."
"I'm not! And you know what? She's right! I'm complete rubbish at taking care of Harry. He could've been really hurt. And there I was, not paying attention. Bloody stupid–"
"Ronald Bilius Weasley! You stop this at once!"
Ron shrank back. "Hermione, leave off! You sound just like Pomfrey."
"I'm just trying to help," she said, stung. "You are not a terrible person, Ron Weasley. Harry did not get hurt. Yes, you made some mistakes –"
Ron sagged and put his head in his hands.
"Oh, Ron. It'll be okay, I'm sure she will see reason." Hermione put both her arms around him. "I'll talk to her in a few days, if you like."
Ron could only nod. He knew if he tried to speak now, he would loose his composure.
~o~
By Tuesday of the following week, Poppy was pleased to see Harry had shed most of his somber mood. She had enlisted Dobby's help in setting up a round the clock watch, to be sure Harry wasn't trying to hurt himself. Despite the fact that Dobby took the night shifts, Poppy was still exhausted. Sleep did not come easily to her; she was just too worried about Harry.
So when Hermione Granger arrived unexpectedly Tuesday evening, with an offer to watch Harry and put him to bed, Poppy accepted. She was glad of the chance to get away, knowing Harry was in good hands. Poppy gave Hermione a quick rundown on Harry's evening routine, and showed her were to find fresh nappies. She reminded Harry to use the loo before changing into his pyjamas, and a bit more sternly told him to be on his very best behaviour for Hermione. She had little doubt that the girl's visit and offer had, if not an ulterior motive, an additional one, having to do with one Ronald Weasley.
Perhaps, she mused as she walked across the bailey breathing in the sweet night air, she had been too harsh with the boy. The gibbous moon shed light on her path, as she made her way to the rose garden. One thing was for certain, if she ever did let him watch Harry again, she was certain young Weasley wouldn't take his eyes off of his charge for a single second. That Granger girl truly was the cleverest witch in her year – or possibly any year, for that matter.
Being alone, out under the moon and stars, was just what Poppy needed to relieve some of her tension. As she sat on a stone bench and cast her gaze skyward, she thought she might give Weasley another chance after all. But not before she let him sweat for a bit. Then again, perhaps a word or two with Molly Weasley would do the trick, better than any waiting period Poppy could impose. Mrs Weasley's howlers were infamous, and Poppy could only imagine that facing the Weasley matriarch's wrath in person was a rather more unforgettable experience.
~o~
It was the end of Harry's second week of daily visits to St. Mungo's. As he and Madam Pomfrey approached the lift, they spied Draco Malfoy waiting for them.
"Hi Dayco! My wearing big-boy-pants a'day!" Harry announced with a proud tilt of his chin. "Wan' see?" he asked eagerly, and reached to push his trousers down.
At this, Draco and Madam Pomfrey shouted "No!" simultaneously and Madam Pomfrey put a staying hand on Harry's arm.
Harry froze. The force and suddenness of their reaction had frightened him. What followed was a rapid succession of raw emotions playing across Harry's face: shock, fear and shame, ending in anger. He jerked his trousers up and turned his head away, lip jutting out defiantly. "My not gon' show nobody my big-boy-pants. My wan go home!"
Draco just stared dumbly at Harry. He was quite stunned, and more than a bit mortified at Harry's offer to 'drop trou' in the middle of a well-trafficked hallway. But more than that, it pained Draco to see Harry so distraught. He wanted to eradicate the look of abject hurt and anger on Harry's face, and he wished he knew what to do to make the boy happy again. It was only then that Draco realized Madam Pomfrey was speaking lowly to Harry.
"…lovely new pants. It's simply that they are a private thing and one does not show them willy-nilly in the middle of a hospital full of strangers."
The effect that the Matron's words were having on Harry was to cause his jutting lip to tremble. Draco felt an unbidden desperation rise inside him to stop that tremble from becoming a full-fledged cry. "Hey, Harry!" he blurted out. "Guess what? Healer Vanes said I might be able to visit you at –"
Harry's face lit up instantly and he grabbed Draco's robe sleeve, shaking it excitedly. "You gon' tum a'day, Dayco? Oh! My gon' show you my toys, an' my boohts, an' my big boy bed, an…"
As Harry continued his list in earnest, Draco found it impossible to interrupt. He could do little more than get out a feeble, "Uh," when Harry took a breath. Snape had spoken of the possibility of a visit in a few weeks, as long as Draco continued making steady progress as he had been. A few weeks. Now Draco was beginning to realize the full impact of his misguided attempt to appease Harry – and he hadn't a clue as to how to untangle himself from the boy's enthusiasm.
"…an you tan meet my fends, Dobby an' Ahgi, an' Pafessor Fitwict, an' Pafessor Teyawny – she gots big gyasses –"
"Harry," Madam Pomfrey smoothly cut in, and Draco marveled at how easy she made it look. Harry stopped and looked back at his caregiver. "Unfortunately, your friend, Draco, isn't well enough to come today." Before Harry could fuss, she held up a hand and continued. "And we don't want to make him feel more badly about that than he already does."
Draco didn't need to fake an expression of despair to help convince Harry of this. He was feeling the full impact of the Nurse's words: He wasn't well enough. He still had flashbacks and fade-outs and nightmares. Sometimes his body would shake uncontrollably in a panic attack, and he would run back to his room or to Severus' office.
Harry studied Draco's face a moment. He did not like Draco to have a sad face. "Dat be otay, Dayco," he said, and gave Draco a heartfelt hug. "My tan bring more toys a'show you here." And then Harry gasped as he had a sudden idea. "Oh! Pomfee! I know! Tan my bring Dobby to pay wif me an' Dayco? He very funny, an' dat gon' make Dayco feel all better!"
Madam Pomfrey took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. Pick your battles, she cautioned herself before speaking. I'll see if I can arrange something, Harry, but remember, Dobby is very busy, and he may not have …time to come here for a visit."
As Harry was about to reply, Madam Pomfrey held her hand up. "We will discuss it later, at home. But right now I want you to try and use the loo. We want to keep your new pants nice and dry now, don't we? And it would be rude to keep Healer Vanes waiting. Draco, why don't you take Harry and then meet us upstairs. I need to speak to the Healer before Harry's session begins." With that, she surreptitiously cast a monitoring charm on Harry, spun on her heel and headed towards the lift.
Draco stood frozen in place staring after her, until Harry grabbed his hand and began shaking his arm. "Tum on, Dayco!" He looked back to be sure Madam Pomfrey had alighted the lift, before adding in a conspiratorial whisper, "Den I am gon' show you my big boy pants."
Draco wasn't sure how they got to the loo – Blast! He'd faded out again, and this time, it was while he was responsible for Harry. That was not on. He tried to quickly get his bearings. Harry was beside him, using the urinal. If his lighthearted chatter was any indication, Harry was not aware that Draco had 'left' him.
"…an' my gon' have teacle a'night if my pants be dry all day."
"Er, that's really good of you, Harry," Draco said, feeling the need to prove his presence to himself more than to Harry, who hadn't seemed to notice anything was amiss.
Harry turned to Draco, warmed by the other boy's unexpected praise. Draco jumped back with a shout of surprise, but it was too late – Harry had accidentally sprayed a dark line of pee across the hem of Draco's robes.
"Uh oh," said Harry with a giggle, "my got wee on dose robes!"
"That's not funny, Harry," said Draco, unable to hide his grimace of disgust.
"My sorry, Dayco," said Harry, still smiling. "It be otay. You tan just do Scourgify," he added brightly.
What was wrong with him today? Draco felt so raw and out of control, and he had to fight with every ounce of his waning will to remain present. As Draco struggled to master himself, he said in as calm a voice as he could manage, "You need a wand to do Scourgify, Harry, and I haven't got one. Now, if you're quite done, pull up your trousers."
"Huh. Maybe Pomfee tan get you one. Non Non say she don get me one when I a big, big boy."
"Uh, thanks, but I'm not allowed a wand, Harry." Draco wasn't quite sure why he was telling Harry this. The surprising result was another of Harry's consoling hugs. He swallowed hard and said, "Yeah, well, it's alright. Now wash your hands. We don't want to keep Healer Vanes waiting."