There was once a boy – more of a man, really – who saw purple people. The people weren't really there, not according to the rest of the world. But the man saw them, and to him they were real. As I'm sure you can imagine, he was hospitalized, sent off to what some people affectionately call the "loony bin". He was let out some time later, after he had told his doctors he no longer saw the purple people. In reality, he still saw them everywhere he went …. He just told the people he didn't.

Sitting in his hospital room, curled up on his side, Harry was tempted to follow that man's example. He was tempted to claim that he believed them, that he understood the Hogwarts had just been a dream, and that he understood that now.

But he couldn't do that to his friends, even if it was just to get out of this damned place.

It wasn't even that bad, sitting here day after day like this. A bit boring, true, but James kept stopping by with more things for him to do, more books for him to read. And there was the telly, of course.

He stayed away from the news programs, now, sure that they had somehow been charmed so that he wouldn't know anything that was really going on out there in the world. He wasn't kept that isolated from the rest of the world, even when he was at Hogwarts. Not with Hermione getting the muggle post every day at school.

Shifting into a more comfortable position, Harry heaved a great sigh before letting his eyes fall closed. A nap sounded wonderful.

-----

James watched from the doorway as Harry slipped into a fitful sleep, a small smile playing across his lips.

As weird as it was, he was almost happy to see his son having a nightmare. It sounded sadistic, but he truly didn't mean it that way. He wanted Harry to be happy, wanted it more than anything in the world. But Harry hadn't had a nightmare in the past half-decade, and to watch him experiencing something so … normal … was almost more than he could have asked for.

Dr. Lightner was astounded by the amount of progress they were experiencing with Harry. He'd expected at least one relapse in the first couple of days, and had expected to run into several problems by now. But they hadn't. Everything was almost too perfect.

They'd be able to bring Harry home soon, and he knew Lily was going out of her mind. She was happy, he was happy. They were both extrememly happy with the way things were turning out. But she was stressed at the same time, trying to makethe house ready for a teenage son that they still didn'tquite knowhow to act around.

He'd sent a letter off to his ex-wife, appraising her of her son's condition. Lily had been hesitant to let him send it, but they had both understood that they couldn't leave her out of the loop like this. She deserved to be a part of Harry's life, whether he knew her as his mother or not. They'd need to have a conversation with him about that, soon. Just having her show up out of the blue like that just wouldn't do.

Setting his soda to the side, James sat as quietly as he could next to his son, brushing a few strands of wayward black hair out of his eyes.

Sirius wouldn't be coming by the hospital. They'd agreed that it would be best if Harry got to know his parents first, without adding a godfather to the mix. Not to mention that he had his hands full with Remus.

Remus' cancer had reared it's ugly head, and he'd been in the hospital himself until only just recently. Not this hospital, of course, but one of the special treatment centers that Sirius somehow always found the money to send him to. James still wasn't sure how the other man was always able to do that.

He needed to visit Remus soon. The other man needed something to take his mind off his own problems, and as wonderful as Sirius was, James was sure that Remus was getting sick of him by this point. How they could live in such close quarters without going after each other's throats was beyond his capability to understand. Even Lily, the brainiac that she was, had a hard time with that one. They acted more like an old married couple, then two single men sharing a rundown apartment.

Leaning back in his chair with a small sigh, James closed his eyes as he allowed himself to finially take a short rest, after a rather hectic day. Telling Sirius about Harry had been … exhausting.

--earlier that day—

"He's AWAKE!" James winced at the volume his friend's voice had risen to, resisting the urge to rub at his ears. He was thankful that he'd closed the door to his office, now, giving them some sense of privacy for this meeting.

But not enough, apparently. James glared at the onlookers through his window, before striding over and quickly yanking the curtains closed.

Most of his co-workers knew about his son's condition, and while he knew that they would congradulate him on his Harry's good fortune and continued health, he just wasn't ready to share this with the world at large. It had been hard enough telling Sirius, letting go of that special feeling of privacy that he had been experiencing from being one of the only people who knew of Harry's change in condition.

"Siri, could you keep it down? And yes, Harry woke up. The doctors are ….. well, they're hoping for the best." He didn't want to jinx this, didn't want to say something that could somehow change the luck they had been experiencing lately.

"Hoping for the best? James, this is wonderful! Did they move him? Well, the must have moved him if he's awake – those rooms are damned expensive, and you and Lily couldn't afford to keep him in there if he doesn't absolutely need it. I mean, can he move around? Can he talk? Will he talk? Does he remember you? Does he remember me, or Remus, or Lily, or …"

"Sirius!" James fought to keep his voice under control, taking a deep breath before opening eyes –when had he closed them? – and focusing his gaze on his best friend. "He's awake, yes. He's talking, and no, he doesn't remember us. At least, not in that way. He doesn't remember anything except this damned fantasy world he's created inside his head. Apparently, it's better than the real world Lily and I tried to give to him." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his, now, as he voiced his hidden thoughts. Somehow, he always seemed able to say things to Sirius that he would never dare voice aloud, otherwise.

"James …." Sirius' voice was soft now, as he watched his best friend sadly.

James merely glared heatedly at his friend, before collapsing bonelessly onto the sofa that was set beside the door to his office. Making his clients comfortable was important, after all. "I just .. I need some time with him, Siri, before you meets you and Remy. I need some time to get to know him again, you know? Besides, I'm sure Remus needs you around pretty bad right now. How's that new nurse working out?"

"Pretty good – she's pretty, so Remus doesn't seem to mind quite so much. And she's nice." James smiled at that, knowing that she wouldn't last long if she wasn't at least a little bit attractive. And it wasn't because of Sirius, either.

Not many people would hav expected it, but Remus did put alot ofstock in outward appearance. He liked beautiful things, and that didn't just stop at material things – he detested unkept people, and demanded that anybody he was seen with take proper care of themselves.

He and Sirius got in a lot of arguments about keeping their house clean, and that was the main reason for the new nurse. She not only took care of Remus' medicines and physical therapy, but also helped out around the house, and cooked and cleaned for them. It wasn't a normal part of the job, but they paid her well above the norm.

James leaned back in his seat, smiling as his friend began talking about everything he could find wrong with this new nurse. There was always plenty to be found, and James knew from experience that he would end up driving her away, with his constant demands of perfection where Remus was concerned. It always happened, and really, he wouldn't be Sirius if he wasn't overprotective of the man he truly considered to be his "brother".

James opened his ey es some time later to a hand gently shaking him awake, and was instantly awake as he stared into his son's amused green orbs. "They're serving dinner … shouldn't you be leaving?"

It had taken him nearly a whole ten minutes tow ork up the courage to stand up, let alone wake the older man up, and now Harry wasn't sure if that had been the brightest idea, if the look on James' face was anything to go by.

"Harry James Potter! Do you want to have another relapse! Get back into bed!" It wasn't often that James yelled, but when he did, he did so with his whole heart.

Harry jerked back, stumbling a little bit until he fell heavily against the hospital bed, eyes widening a little at the vehemence of the man's reaction.

James instantly regretted his hasty words, slowly standing to his feet and laying a hand on his son's shoulder. "Come on, get back in bed." He said softly, beginning to draw back the covers and help the boy into bed.

"No thank-you, sir. I …. I think that I've had enough rest." Harry said uneasily, vividly remembering the last time he had attempted to disobey his uncle to his face. It …. Hadn't been pretty.

James merely smiled, reaching up to run his fingers through his son's jet black hair. "I know, Harry. I know how much you hate being cooped up. But the doctors said you could get even worse if you try and move around too much."

"I wouldn't think that taking him for a ride in a wheelchair would be too bad, though." James looked up surprise at Dr. Lightner, standing in the doorway with a clipboard in hand. "I was just passing by and couldn't help but overhear. What do you think of having dinner down in the cafeteria, Harry?"

Harry nodded slowly, chancing a look at James uncertaintly, but was surprised to find that the older man had a smile on his face. "I think that's a wonderful idea, doctor."

"I'll send a nurse to get that wheelchair for you. Why don't you put a robe on, Harry? The cafeteria tends to be a bit chilly." Harry nodded, waiting until the doctor had left the room before pushing away from the bed uncertaintly, still unsteady on his feet.

"Come on, I think your mum brought over some of my old clothes for you. We haven't been able to get shopping yet, and I think she wants you there to try on the stuff, anyway." James started over toward the closet, a small smile playing across his lips.

Harry, however, could already feel the bile and distaste rising to his throat, his lips twisting into a mutated form of a frown. He had no right to call that …. That woman Harry's mum.

When James turned back around, all he could do was sigh softly at the look on his son's face, his smile twisting as he raised an eyebrow at the teenager. "Come on, let's get you ready." He said softly, the previous excitement now gone from his voice.

Harry merely shrugged, accepting the overly large robe with a small sigh, slipping it on and clasping it tightly around himself before sitting back down on the bed, with a wince.

James watched his son for a moment longer, before moving to lean against the doorframe, watching for the nurse.

It actually took her almost 10 minutes to get to them, not that he'd been expecting anything better. Hospitals were notorious for making people wait. Harry said nothing as the nurse helped him into the wheelchair, although e did shy away from her touch.

That made James' lips thin in anger, and he quickly turned away, lest Harry see the way his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched, and interpret it the wrong way.

They made the trip down to the cafeteria in silence, Harry fidgeting with his robe nervously and steadfastly refusing to look at anybody they passed, even as they called out greeting to him as if they knew him.

There was no magic here. Just like in his private room, everything was sterile and muggle, and silent save for the occasional chatter of a nurse or doctor passing by. No wands, no potions, just good 'ole muggle technology.

Technology that seemed a fair bit more advanced then he was used to. He should have recognized some of these things! But the telivisions were bigger, their picture clearer than he had ever seen them. And Uncle Vernon hadn't been stingy with that sort of stuff – they'd always had the best, even if he hadn't been allowed to use it most of the time.

And the programs on television … they were different, as well. There was a war, in the muggle world. And even the dates they gave were wrong – according to these programs, it was 2006, not 1997. Nearly a 10 year difference.

But if he stopped to think about it rationally, it did make a sort of sense. If somebody was going to trap themselves away inside of their own mind, they would do so in a timeframe that they felt safe in, wouldn't they? They wouldn't try and make up an entirely new timeline, wouldn't try and keep up with what was really happening in the world. Some things that their real body heard or felt would transfer through to the imaginary world within one's head, but …. For the most part, it would stay around what had already happened. By picturing himself in the past, everything that was harsh and cold about this time would be eliminated.

But that was only when he thought about it objectively, like a bystander. When he let himself fantasize about how nice it would be if this were true – if his pa rents really were alive.

But they weren't, so he had to stop doing this to himself. He was only going to end up getting hurt.

James stared down at his son's slumped shoulders, taking in the way he steadfastly ignore everyone and everything around him. Almost as if he were scared.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he stared ahead mutely, not noticing his son's raised head and furrowed brow, as Harry stared up at his wet eyes, the tell tale sign of tears on his cheeks.

Harry pursed his lips togeather, glancing back down at his lap. He hated this. Hated how this damn man kept acting so much like a father should. He was a good actor, nothing more.

He couldn't let him be anything more.