A/N: Thank you for all the feedback you've given me and sorry for not updating any sooner. I've moved out and started my uni studies in a completely new country. I've also had some real trouble with my betas but Lux promised to do the job this time, so thank you!
I may need to repeat something that I've said a sufficient number of times before: do not read this fic if the era's too personal to you or you happen to have very fixed views on how authors are to describe Harry and Draco. I am not trying to offend anyone on purpose. The SS -letters decorate and stain my family albums as well.
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Chapter eight: Know Thy Limits
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; 2nd of August, 1944, Buchenwald
I didn't want to listen to the radio anymore. I didn't want to hear what was happening outside of Buchenwald but at the same time I wanted to know who was on the losing side, who was on the winning side and, most importantly, when the war was going to end.
It was not unlike following the course of a broadcasted football game on the radio, only that this time the game went on and on, from year to year, never seeming to end.
Also, during football matches you rarely got to hear how many men had fallen in battle. After all, the football players only got penalties and occasional injuries that healed over time. However, the people around me - my colleagues, my family and friends - were finding it harder and harder to stand up after each blow.
I still didn't know why Alvin had committed suicide. I blamed it on his character, of course, the way he was so weak and selfish for doing what he did, but I also knew how war could affect a man and how easy it was to just snap.
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; 4th of August, 1944, Buchenwald
It had been two weeks since I heard the news about my mother's miscarriage, and my father had only been back very briefly before he had to leave again. Barbara, my mother's maid, had sent me a message to come over as quickly as I could.
I knocked on the door out of habit but stepped inside without waiting for a reply. Immediately I was greeted by Barbara, who was carrying a bowl with a rag hanging over the edge, partly dipped into the clear, rippling water.
"I am so glad you were able to come, young Mr. Potter. I was afraid you didn't get my message."
"Hello, Barbara. What's the matter? Why did you want me to come here?" I asked, looking down at the elderly woman with a white scarf tied around her head. The worry wrinkles on her face grew deeper and the bright lamps hanging from the ceiling made her greying hair look whiter than ever. She placed the bowl on a stool.
"It's Mrs. Potter," Barbara said, wringing her hands in her apron. "I'm afraid your mother is not recovering well from her loss at all. She doesn't want to come out of her room and eats only very little." The woman sniffed a little. "Her cheeks look so hollow, so hollow…"
I felt a sharp sting in my chest where I presumed my heart lay. "What has Dr. Schneider told you?"
"He – I was told Mrs. Potter is depressed. She refuses to take any medicine and wants to be left alone." At this point Barbara burst into tears and her wrinkles became extremely prominent as she scrunched up her face, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.
"Sir, you must talk to your mother! I couldn't contact your father and I didn't know what to do! She told me not to tell you about any of this but I had no other option. Surely you understand? Oh, Lord, I have betrayed dear Mrs. Potter!"
I placed my hand on the sobbing woman's shoulder encouragingly. "My mother is a sensible woman, Barbara. You needn't worry. Once she's gathered her strength I'm sure she'll understand you did the right thing."
"Yes, yes, I hope you are right…"
"Are you alright now?"
"Of course, thank you. I must be off now, please talk sense to your mother?"
Nodding once, I said, "I will."
Determined, I headed for my mother's room. I knocked twice and twisted the door knob. "Mother?"
"Harry?" I heard a raspy voice from the bedroom and stepped inside. The air in the room was stuffy so I walked across the floor to open the window. I turned to look at the woman lying on the bed.
"Oh, Mother, what have you done to yourself?"
She looked so frail lying under the thin sheet with her bony hands resting lightly on top of them, fingers like a spider's legs. Her skin was almost white and there were dark smudges under her eyes. The gown she was wearing looked a few sizes too big on her slight form and her red hair looked greasy although it was obviously combed, most likely by Barbara. She was absolutely dreadful to look at.
"Oh, Harry… I told Barbara not to bring you here. I didn't want you to see me like this," she sighed wearily, looking at me with sad, tired eyes.
I knelt beside my mother's bed and took one of her hands in mine. "You are wasting away," I breathed as I took in her face. "What c-"
"Sssh," she shushed. "I'll be alright. I've just caught something –"
"The doctor said you were depressed! How on –"
"- caught something nasty and I'll be fine a few days. I just need to rest," she finished and looked at me reassuringly. I remembered that look from my younger days.
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; 11th of November, 1938, Berlin
"Mother, I am so sorry! It wasn't my fault I got an A- from my Algebra test, the teacher graded my paper all wrong because even Samuel got a mark higher than I did and –"
"Harry, darling." She looked at me with great warmth in her deep, green eyes and took my face in her hands. "An A- does not make me love you any less than if you got an A+. You are my eldest son and no matter how well you solve an equation, no matter how far you can throw a spear, you're always good enough for me."
The look she was giving me made me want to cry. I could tell that she meant every word she said to me and it was simply overwhelming. "But I wasn't the best! I've disappointed you and Father –"
"Your Father may not tell you often enough how proud of you he actually is. Believe me, Harry, he would do anything for you."
"He – I still didn't make him proud now! The teacher –"
My Mother's eyes suddenly grew darker but by no means colder. The look she was giving me immediately shut me up and she stroked my unruly hair.
"Strive forward but admit your mistakes and always learn from them. Don't let setbacks get to you, hold your head high through tough times and love the ones close to you."
She kissed my forehead. I wanted to throw my arms around her neck and breathe in the sweet, floral perfume that she'd used ever since I could remember.
"And always wash your hands before dinner. Now, chop chop, Linda's prepared some pork and the food is not going to disappear from your plate on its own."
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"You look so thin, Mother. You must eat something! I can't bear to look at you this way and please, don't be mad at Barbara! She was worried for you and I had the right to know."
"I will, I will," she said, trying to convince me. Her voice was disturbingly calm; I didn't like it one bit. After a pause she continued, "Have you heard anything from James?"
I pursed my lips as she looked at me under her lashes, her eyes twinkling with hope. "No, I haven't. He should be back in a week, though."
"Oh."
I brought my mother's hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles lightly. "Mother –"
She pulled the bed covers tighter around her and eased her back against the pillow. "Harry, I'm feeling very tired. I must get some sleep. It might be better if you went back to your barrack and came back maybe tomorrow?"
Before I could respond she went on, "I'll ask Barbara to prepare some soup for me. How's that sound, hmm?"
I gave my mother a defeated, wavering smile. "That sounds brilliant." I stood up and kissed her on the temple. "See you soon, Mother. I – I love you."
She smiled back. "I love you, too, Harry."
As I pulled the door shut behind me and I heard a moan coming from the other end of the corridor.
"Barbara?"
I peeked into the sitting room and saw Barbara lowering a big basket full of firewood beside the fireplace. She held her back as she straightened up and groaned again.
"Are you quite alright?"
The old woman started slightly as she hadn't heard me entering the room. "Oh, yes, of course, thank you for asking. It's just that I'm not a young girl anymore and some of these tasks are becoming increasingly hard for me to handle. Helen and Agnes have so much to do as it is so I couldn't possibly have them help me out here all the time." Her back made a few cracking sounds and I winced in sympathy. She let out a sigh of relief and went on, "Once Mrs. Potter is feeling better I'm sure I'll be alright as well.
"She flat out refused to let me do everything by myself. She said she felt useless as it was and wanted to have something to do in the house. A good-hearted soul, she is. Now that she has fallen ill, however, it feels like the amount of work I have has tripled and each trip to the firewood shed feels longer."
"So, you're in need of an extra pair of hands?"
"More like two extra pairs of hands. Even Helen struggles with her work and she's only 23."
As I went to fetch some firewood from the near-by shead to ease Barbara's work load, an idea struck me like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. My hands tightened around the basket I was holding.
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; 5th of August, 1944, Buchenwald
"Who?" Barbara asked as she polished a teapot made out of brass.
"Prisoner 1496302. You said you needed extra help and I know he would be very useful for you. He's even studied medicine."
The elderly woman looked as me suspiciously. "And how on earth do you know that, young Mr. Potter, if I may ask?"
"Never mind that," I waved my hand dismissively. "I just do." 'That's what he told me.'
'Maybe he lied.'
"Hum," Barbara frowned contemplatively and set the shiny pot aside, picking up the lid.
"You'd take care of my mother, of course. I wouldn't trust her in anyone else's hands within this camp, but he, the prisoner, could do the heavier tasks and help you in any way you wish him to."
"I don't know…" Barbara hesitated. "I'm not saying I don't trust your judgment, no, no, but when you get to my age you'll see it is not very easy to trust strangers who are stronger than you." She placed the polished lid next to the teapot.
"He is not going to hurt you, any of you. If he did the consequences would be dire, and he knows it. He's not a stupid person."
Barbara sighed in what I believed was defeat. "You seem very sure this is the right thing to do."
Smiling, I said, "I am."
"If I find it at all bothersome to work with him in the house, am I permitted to throw him out?"
"I'd prefer it if you contacted me first, but yes, you are in charge of the other maids here as well as him."
"Alright," she finally said and paused for a moment. A grandfather clock ticked away by the doorway. "Alright, I'll do as you wish. I am not sure if Mr. Potter is going to like it, not to mention your mother, but –"
"Just see if it works out," I interrupted and gave Barbara a sharp look, growing slightly frustrated. She looked away and down at her hands.
"Yes, sir."
"I'm sorry, Barbara. I didn't mean to snap at you."
"It's quite alright." She gave me a grandmotherly smile and asked me something I felt like I had been asked quite often over the past few months, "Why are you doing this?"
"Love," was my immediate answer and it startled me. The word felt like it was from another language.
It's strange how one single word could affect me so much. My throat suddenly felt tight and dry and scratchy.
"I'm – I'm doing this out of love towards my mother," I finally managed to say. "She needs your extra attention now and if I need to bring a filthy, disgusting Jew in this house in order to make sure my mother gets well, I'll do exactly that."
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That night I had an unusual dream.
I was standing by a river. It must have been at night as I could barely see ahead of me and there was no wind to disturb the immobility around me. Even though I could see no moon in the sky the water in the river glimmered under the light of something that I could not see.
Tall bulrushes were growing by the banks and the dark, deep water was soundlessly carrying dead leaves down the stream. I suppose had it not been a dream I would have heard the sounds of water or smelt the moist earth and the hays of a nearby meadow. A young willow tree was half drowning in the river water, its thin and numerous branches reaching for the sky while the roots were underwater, deeply sunk into the soft ground.
On the other side of the stream there was a rock. Not a particularly big one but it still caught my eye. I looked at it for what felt like a small eternity. It was grey, rough and very much like all the other rocks in the world but I still couldn't take my eyes off it. So I just stared, waiting for something to happen.
Suddenly there were tiny golden flakes of stars raining down on me. No, they weren't pieces of stars - they were fireflies, thousands of them! They looked nearly weightless and glowed like tiny suns but never touched and burned my skin. They were everywhere around me, dancing on the water and between the bulrushes and between the branches of the willow. There was magic in the air, I could almost taste its electricity on my tongue.
I heard a faint splash and the water rippled as something had been thrown into it. I looked up and saw a man clad in white sitting on the grey rock. I instantly knew who it was.
"Draco?"
"Hey," Draco grinned at me and threw another small stone in the water. "Fancy meeting you here."
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"What are you doing here?"
"I don't know," I answered back and felt mildly stupid until I realised I was asleep and dreaming. "This isn't real."
"No?" Draco asked, sounding amused. "Many things aren't, you know. But you can't deny that this isn't exactly a nightmare, can you?"
"No, it's beautiful out here. Where are we? What is this place? I mean, I know it's not actually anywhere but –"
"Why don't you come to this side of the river and we'll talk?" He suggested and pointed at something in the distance. "There's a bridge a bit further up the stream."
I squinted and indeed, there was a small, wooden bridge not very far away.
"That wasn't there before."
"Yes, it was," Draco said tiredly, as if talking to an exceptionally slow child. "Now, come on, come over here before the fireflies go away and the lights go out. You won't be able to see the bridge anymore when it gets dark again." Draco shifted on the rock slightly and wrapped his arms around himself.
"The bridge doesn't look very safe, the railing's broken and –"
"Come on, Harry! I don't feel like waiting here the whole night."
"Are you –"
Then the fireflies, the bridge and Draco disappeared and I was surrounded by darkness once again. Not even the water reflected any light anymore but looked cold, bottomless and void of life. All of a sudden I just felt very lonely.
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A/N: I don't know when I'm going to update again, most likely before Christmas if everything goes well. We'll see. I hope you enjoyed or 'enjoyed' reading this chapter as much as I liked writing it.
-Devilita.