Chapter 38: Progress Takes Practice

Madam Pomfrey stepped briskly off the lift and sped to Harry's room on the fourth floor of St Mungo's. She hadn't wanted to leave Harry, but Rose had been right. After a shower, some hot chocolate and a good meal, with Minerva and Pomona, Poppy had a long nap, and felt worlds better. Still worried about Harry, of course, but feeling more stable. More like herself. She put on a bright smile before entering the room. Healer Brookes was beside Harry, as promised, and Draco Malfoy was there, too.

"Ah, Madam Pomfrey. You're looking well," he said, warmly. "Draco just now came by. He has brought something for Harry."

Draco sheepishly held out a drawing. It was of a silvery blue dragon, with a little Harry riding on its neck. He held it up for Harry to see. "I brought you another dragon picture. It will breathe blue fire when you blow on it. Can you guess what kind of dragon it is, Harry?" he asked earnestly.

Harry said nothing, a slightly pained look on his face. He took the proffered paper, but just held it loosely on his lap.

"Go on, Harry. blow on it. It works just like the Chinese Fireball picture," Draco entreated, but Harry just regarded the drawing and didn't try to animate it. Draco turned to Healer Brookes for direction, just as Brookes and Madam Pomfrey exchanged uneasy glances.

"Draco," Began the Healer, "Why don't you demonstrate for Harry how it's done?"

"Erm, okay, sir." Draco took the picture from Harry's hand, but Harry didn't even look up. He just grimaced and clenched his fists.

"I- I don't think Harry wants to see it, right now, Healer Brookes," said Draco, his voice unsteady.

"It's a beautiful drawing Draco," soothed Madam Pomfrey. "I will take it for now and maybe Harry will feel like trying it later." She pulled out a folder from the satchel by Harry's cot and placed the picture inside. Draco could see 'Get Well Soon' cards in the folder. He guessed Harry wasn't interested in them, either. Then Madam Pomfrey said, "We have to keep visits short for now, Draco, until Harry gets his strength back. I'm sure you understand."

"Oh. Oh, yes. Of course, Madam Pomfrey," he replied, and he was relieved to have an out. He wanted to get away from Harry just then. When Draco had first come into the room, Harry had given him a look that seemed to somehow pierce right through him.

~o~

"It felt like he could see me, but… not like before," Draco tried explaining to Severus later that day. "Will he be okay, Severus?" What he really wanted to ask was, 'Will Harry ever grow up?' But he knew it was pointless to ask. Of course, Severus wouldn't say anything about Harry's condition, because of Healer/patient confidentiality. And that just left Draco feeling both flustered and unsettled. He was also unsettled by the articles he'd read in The Prophet about the incident at Madam Puddifoot's. Draco had a hard time, at first, believing his aunt was really dead.

"Severus," he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "The- the paper said her head…" The Prophet had said Bellatrix's head had been smashed, just like Draco had done to his father. Draco felt the familiar 'pull' of his mind towards oblivion.

"Fight it, Dragon. You are strong," urged Snape with conviction, clasping the boy's hands in his and squeezing them to help anchor Draco. And Draco was able to stay present, watching through tears as his godfather gave him a level look of confidence.

"But, I almost 'left' again." Draco pulled his wand out of his sleeve and held it out to the older wizard.

"Keep your wand, Dragon. I am confident that you are strong enough to withstand this setback, and anything else that comes your way." He curled Draco's fingers back around the wand. "Dragon, this is the spiral we talked about before." Severus took out his own wand, and drew a silvery spiral in the air between them. "You believe you are back where you were," he pointed to a spot on the spiral, close to the center, with his wand and a little red dot appeared. "But in fact, you are further along," Severus added a second dot, in line with the first, but farther out on the spiral, "And just passing by that place from a distance. A safe distance, Draco." And Draco nodded, and tucked his wand back into his shirtsleeve.

~o~

After his session with Draco, Severus, as Vanes, was slated to visit Harry. He was curious about Draco's disclosure and was eager to see Harry for himself. Though not eager to use Legillimency on the boy again – but if it was called for, he would do it.

"Good afternoon, Madam Pomfrey, Harry." Healer Vanes breezed into the room.

"My," exclaimed Poppy, caught somewhat off guard by the Healer's uncharacteristic cordiality. "Good afternoon to you, too, Healer Vanes." And then, out of habit, she said to Harry, "Manners, dear," prompting him to greet the Healer.

But Harry, sitting up in his bed and resting back against the pillows, remained silent. He glanced up once at the Healer when the wizard entered and then directed his gaze back to his lap. Harry chewed his lip nervously and clenched and unclenched his fists.

"I just wanted to come by to see how Harry was doing." His unspoken message was that he wanted to assess whether or not to try Legillimency today, or if indeed, at all.

"Harry's been eating well and getting lots of sleep, Healer Vanes," began Poppy, as the man perused Harry's chart. "But he hasn't felt up to talking yet," she finished, in a falsely cheerful voice.

"I see," said the Healer, giving Harry a level gaze. "Harry? Do you remember the last time you were in the hospital and I came to see you?"

Harry's head shot up at that. He looked terror stricken. His lower lip quavered and his breath quickened.

Vanes held up his hands. "No, Harry. I won't look into your mind if you don't want me to," he reassured the boy.

Harry looked back down and then closed his eyes. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he let it out, folding his arms around himselfand leaning forward.

"I see," said Vanes again. And he thought he saw something astonishing, but he wasn't certain, as yet. "Perhaps we could have a word, Madam Pomfrey?"

"I'm not sure if just now is a good time, Healer Vanes. Let me see if I can call someone in to sit with Harry," she said. She hadn't allowed Harry to be alone for a moment, since his return. She tapped Harry's chart, and a tall, pleasant-looking Nurse came in. Madam Pomfrey recognized the dark-haired witch. She had been a student at Hogwarts many years back. A Hufflepuff, if memory served, by name of Gloria Gorley. "Ms Gorley?" she asked.

"Why, yes, Madam Pomfrey. You remembered me?"she giggled, a flush deepening the colour of her dark cheeks. "It's been quite a few years since I graduated, Ma'am." Regaining her composure, Nurse Gorley asked, "What can I do for you?"

"Can you see if either Healer Chang or Healer Brookes is available to come sit with Harry for a few minutes?"

"I'd be happy to sit with him, Madam Pomfrey," the Nurse offered.

"No, but, uh, thank you, Nurse Gorley, er, Gloria. I want Harry to be with someone he knows and is comfortable with. I'm sure you understand?"

"Of course, I do, Madam Pomfrey. I'll see who's available for you," said the Nurse, and she left, seemingly unfazed by the refusal of her services.

It wasn't a convenient time for either of Harry's other two Healers to come and be with him, so Pomfrey and Vanes scheduled a meeting for early the next morning. Healer Chang had some time before her rounds, and had agreed to watch Harry then.

The visit with Draco had been such a fiasco, Madam Pomfrey was hesitant to have any of his other friends come, at least not while Harry was still in the hospital. The chances were good that he would be released in the morning. But Healer Brookes pushed her on this, saying he believed having Harry see his friends now was a step towards normalcy. He'd also cautioned her not to push Harry to speak, as that might make the boy more hesitant to do so. With that in mind, Poppy had penned an owl to Hermione Granger, saying she could have a short visit with Harry early that evening.

When Hermione received Madam Pomfrey's owl, Ron had been jealous that she was going to get to see Harry first, and without him.

"The letter was crystal clear, Ron. One visitor at a time, and only then, for a few minutes. You'll get your turn. Try to be patient," she'd told him, somewhat testily. But Hermione knew the advice was pointless. She had felt just as antsy as Ron did to see how Harry was for herself. In fact, Hermione and Ron had been driving each other spare, waiting to be able to visit Harry.

Now that she was at the hospital, Hermione was nervous. After his previous encounter with Bellatrix LeStrange, Harry had been convinced that she, and all his friends, were mad at him for being bad and scratching open his scar wound. It had taken time to regain his trust and for Harry to feel truly comfortable with her again. But now, after he'd been told that he was safe from harm and to have that trust broken…? Hermione couldn't imagine what poor Harry was going through. She still didn't know exactly what'd happened. Reading The Daily Prophet with a grain of salt – or a sack of salt – Hermione surmised that Harry had sustained minor physical injuries at the hands of Bellatrix. But what that sick, deranged witch had done to Harry's psyche, Hermione couldn't guess. And it filled her with dread to think about it. The note from Madam Pomfrey had explained that Harry wasn't talking at all, since he'd returned, and that Hermione wasn't to make mention of that to Harry. Well, the time for thinking was over, she saw, because Hermione found herself outside of Harry's room on the fourth floor. Taking a deep breath, Hermione pasted a smile on her face and knocked primly on the door.

"Come in," called the voice of Madam Pomfrey, and Hermione did. "Oh, Hermione. Your timing is perfect," said witch. "I need the facilities. Would you mind terribly if I leave you with Harry for a moment?"

"Not at all, Madam Pomfrey," answered the younger witch, watching as the Nurse leaned over to pat Harry's hands. Harry was on his cot, leaning up against some pillows. His hands were clasped together in his lap.

"Harry, your friend, Hermione has come to see you." Poppy had to forcibly stop herself from prompting Harry to say, 'Hello' to her. Healer Brookes had cautioned Poppy several times not to make a fuss about Harry's not talking, and to let him come back to it at his own pace. "I'll be back in a spot."

"Hallo, Harry," greeted Hermione tentatively, as the Nurse left them. She transfigured a second visitors' chair out of a little lip balm case she had in her pocket. She felt it would have been presumptuous to take Madam Pomfrey's seat. "I've missed you so much, Harry. And so have Ron and Ginny. They, erm, couldn't come this time, but they both wanted me to say 'Hallo' for them."

The familiar voice of his dear friend brought tears, unbidden, to Harry's eyes. He was afraid to look at her, but couldn't stop himself. "'Moine," he croaked, his voice gruff as he unclasped his hands and lifted one very slightly towards her, then hesitated.

Hermione took to the seat in a rush and grasped both Harry's hands in hers, leaning in to him. She wanted to hug him to her, but wasn't sure if a hug would be welcomed yet. Tears filled her eyes, as well. "It's ''Moine' now , not 'Mynee', Harry?" she gave a little half laugh.

Harry swallowed. There was so much he wanted to tell her. So much to say. But he didn't know how to start. Yet he couldn't go on remaining silent forever, and of all people, he felt Hermione would be able to understand the most. "Hermione," he said, using her full name this time, and squeezing her hands. She froze, staring into his eyes.

"H-Harry?" Hermione saw that he was looking at her with an intensity that he hadn't had, well, now that she thought of it, since before he'd stabbed his scar with the basilisk's tooth. She hadn't been exactly conscious of it before, but seeing his fixed gaze now, made her realize that in the past few months, he'd had a.. an openness. He'd been accepting of everything he'd been told, and taken it all in quite literally. Now, though, his expression seemed somehow shuttered.

"Harry? You… You said my name? You said 'Hermione', Harry."

He nodded once and swallowed. Without speaking more, Hermione let go with one of her hands and reached over for the water glass on the little bedside table. She handed it to Harry and he accepted it, taking a grateful sip. Nodding his thanks once, he handed it back to her and she set it again on the bedside, retaking his hand.

"I'd heard you weren't talking," she began, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles. Not knowing what to say next, she said nothing, and waited to see if Harry would speak again.

Harry worried his lip, his breaths were coming in heavily, as he geared himself up to speak again. Why is this so hard? he wondered. I want to tell her. I just don't know what to say. Then another voice in his head, he felt it sounded a bit too much like Dumbledore's, said plainly, Then tell her that. It sounded so simple, Harry scoffed. He knew his life was about to become anything but simple. It would go back to the way it had always been. He would be The Boy Who Lived, The Vanquisher of Voldemort. Not 'Pomfee's little boy', anymore. He remembered it all. The care, the love, the simplicity and joy of a child's life. And while he missed the old friendships he'd had before all this, he was loath to let the new ones go. Looking into Hermione's questioning eyes, though – and calculating eyes, for that's the clever witch that she was – Harry knew with certainty that his simple life was over. What did he think he could do? Pretend to be wee forever? And so he began, "I- I don't know what to say."

And for once, Hermione found that she didn't either. She gaped at him in silence, clenching his hands in hers more tightly.

The silence was somehow deafening to Harry. He had hoped that Hermione would just explain everything, like she usually did. He was pleading for her to do just that with his eyes. But no. Hermione was speechless. So Harry had to fill the void. Finally, defeated, he said simply, "You know."

And after another silence, Hermione said "But I don't know how." At this, Harry looked up, shame-faced, but Hermione was up and enfolding him in a fierce hug, as she added, "or at least, I'm not certain."

"Oh, Harry," she cried, her voice shaky with emotion. "Harry," she said again, tightening her hug, and felt him hug her back with as much intensity.

"I- I don't know how to tell Pomfee, erm, M- Madam Pom-frey, I mean," he stammered into her shoulder.

"Oh," said Hermione. "Oh!" she said again, and released her hold on him. He let go, as well, and sat back, as Hermione retook her seat. "She'll be back any minute," said Hermione in an uncharacteristic panic.

"What can I tell her? I'm so ashamed-"

"Ashamed?! " Hermione was stunned. "What do you have to be ashamed of, Harry?"

He just spread out his hands, unable to articulate his thoughts to her. But she knew them anyways, smart witch that she was.

"Oh, Harry. You were impaired. You were a child, a baby, even, at first. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Madam Pomfrey wanted to give you a good childhood. We all wanted to. You should have no shame. None!"

Harry gave a little laugh. "You sound like Dumbledore," he said, and Hermione quirked her head, but said nothing. "Help me tell her?" he asked plaintively, reaching for her hand again, and Hermione nodded, just as the door opened and Madam Pomfrey strode in.

—

A/N: We're in the home stretch, now. Comments welcomed and much appreciated.

-tsuj