Half Lives – Chapter Eleven

Harry had been looking for his godfather; he had just had a rather troublesome encounter with Ginny, who had apparently suddenly revived her crush from all those years ago. She had cornered Harry in Buckbeak's room, and, after greeting the hippogriff, had rather persistently tried to flirt with him. When Harry had backed off, she had become quite irate.

"Oh make your mind up Harry!" She snapped finally. "Yesterday you were promising to buy me flowers, last Monday you ran away from me, the week before that you spent the whole day thinking up pet names- I am not a toy!" Harry had slowly begun creeping towards the door. "If you think you've made a mistake, and you don't want to date me, then be a wizard and tell me! I'm not going to break and curse your internal organs to die a little with every heart beat before finally giving up and withering away leaving you an empty wretched shell-" Hearing her extensive knowledge of that curse, Harry begged to differ, "but if you're going to be flicking about from one cauldron to the next, well-" She stepped up to him, with her wand inches from his face and a blazing look upon her own, "do not mess me around, Harry. I deserve more than that."

With that Ginny had stared at him inscrutably for a few seconds, before throwing her hands in the air and storming off to rant to Hermione about boys in general, and dark haired, green eyed ones in particular.

Harry felt slightly nervous when he even remembered the dangerous look in her eyes. His knees had gone weak and the bottom fell out of his stomach even thinking about it. He paused, thinking about it, maybe fear wasn't the cause of his nervousness, but more than ever Harry decided that if he was going down that path, he would have to hang back and think about things before doing anything. After all, he didn't remember any of the events Ginny had described, and, more importantly, Ginny was scary. He smiled grimly, it was possibly the first time he had advocated thinking before acting. His Anti-Catastrophe plan was going well.

That, and his recent revelations, made Harry more determined than ever to find his godfather. He wasn't sure how one began a family-bond, but he was sure talking and girls were part of it. He grimaced slightly, when he considered actually talking to Sirius about such things, but whilst becoming James was helping Sirius, it wasn't helping Harry's relationship with him. Besides, he was a Gryffindor, embarrassing conversations or none. He could do this. He would have to do this, if he wanted Sirius to be godfather in more than name only.

-0-

"Sirius!" Remus' exasperated voice cut through Harry's rather grim thoughts. The boy smiled. How helpful of his old professor, locating his errant godfather for him. Harry followed the sounds of the voice down the stairs to the drawing room. But when he got there he hung back behind the door out of sight, but not out of ear shot. Remus and appeared to be having the sort of conversation that was not meant to be overheard. Naturally, Harry started rooting in his pockets for an Extendable Ear.

"But honestly Sirius," Remus exclaimed, giving up on persuading his friend to get up and do something, "all you've done for the past three days is lie on that sofa and stare into space. You barely eat, you don't talk, and I know you don't sleep. Have you even washed?"

Sirius mumbled something into the cushion and continued doing what he was doing. Which was lying down on the sofa, staring despondently at the damp wall opposite.

"I thought as much." Remus replied. "And yes, I know you're hideously depressed, and struggling to recover from your incarceration," his tone of voice suggested they had discussed this frequently, and it was such an old argument that sympathy had stopped existing. "But, couldn't you just try? Pretend, even just for a little while?"

Sirius mumbled something else and continued staring past Remus.

"Why?" Remus echoed. "Because of Harry, that's why." He stood up sharply.

"I tried, alright Remus." Sirius spoke audibly for the first time. "But it was easier when he wasn't here for such long periods. I can't keep it up this long. It's just-" he broke off with a sigh. "It just seems so, useless." He finished helplessly.

That softened Remus again, and he smiled a strange, sad, half smile down at his friend. "But can't you see how it's affecting him? I haven't spoke to him about it, but anyone can see he's starting to doubt his place here. He doesn't know if you really want him here, Sirius. And," he continued on over protests, "in case you have forgotten, he is an orphan. An orphan, Sirius. All he wants is for someone to take him in and be his own family, not a second hand Weasley family, but his." Harry started back in surprise. He hadn't known that it could be expressed so, succinctly, without sounding ungrateful. He immediately felt guilty, and hoped no one else had noticed.

"I know he's an orphan, Remus!" Sirius shouted suddenly, making both Remus and Harry flinch. "You think I'm going to forget that? James! Lily! I saw them dead, Remus! And Harry, he-" He stopped suddenly. His eyes slid off Remus, and went back to staring unseeingly at the damp wall.

"So what are you going to do about it, hey, Sirius? Just lie here and look like you're planning to kill yourself?" Remus sighed, and passed a hand over his face. He looked tired. "You're not, are you, Sirius?" He asked, suddenly sounding vulnerable. "Because if Harry-"

"No." Sirius cut him off flatly. "Don't be stupid Remus."

"Then what? What are you planning? What could be more important...?" he trailed off at the sudden look of devious malice that had sprung onto Sirius' face.

"I'm planning to burn this house down." He said quietly. "The wound will only fester if you don't clean it."

Remus gave him a stony look. "I don't know what you think you're doing, old friend, but that boy out there is dying for just one word from you. You'd better stop this, right now, and do something about it."

"What are you on about? I speak to Harry all the time."

"About his father. Face it, Sirius, all you do is compare them. You look at Harry and you see someone who will never quite be James. He never will be quite enough, will he?"

"Harry is enough." Sirius said quietly, with a mulish expression.

"Then you'd better start acting like it." Remus replied highly. "The way he hangs off your every word, deliberately gets himself in trouble with Molly so she'll forget to tell you off, the way he looks at you-"

"What, like I'm a no good, broken wizard, who can't even get up in the mornings?"

"No." Remus replied softly. "Like you hung the moon. Though," he added briskly, "I have no idea why, the way you've been treating him..."

Harry thought he'd heard quite enough. He withdrew from the door and crept back to his room to think.

The next day saw Harry and Hermione deep in serious discussion at every opportunity. Every so often they would glance up at Sirius or Remus, which was starting to give the two older men the creeps. In the end, Harry won whatever debate they'd been having, and they remained tight lipped on the matter for the next four days, the only clue the rest of the house got was a harassed Hermione whispering "I still think we ought to have asked Remus, or maybe Dumbledore-" before Harry had shut her up with a look. Then, at the end of the four days, Bill and Fleur came back for the weekend, making Mrs Weasley go into overdrive with the offhand comments and not so subtle entreaties to her eldest, which gave Harry ample opportunity to corner Fleur as she skulked around the house in a strop.

And that is why, a week later, Harry and Hermione could be found in the boys' room at any time of day, poring over thick muggle books, all with a 'Library of Central London' sticker on the side, and a check out slip for one F. Delacour in the sleeve. Ron had been greatly interested in these books, never having seen a printed hard back with accompanying CD and actual paper (instead of the handwritten, ancient leather-bound parchment wizarding books), right up until he had been roped into reading, and had discovered that the world of muggle psychology and mental health therapy was incredibly complex and boring. He soon left them to it. And, when asked by various curious house members what the other two were up to, he would just shrug, roll his eyes, and say something about broken muggles. The house soon learned to leave them alone.

"Harry, I was thinking- what are you doing? Put that down right now!" Hermione had stopped almost as soon as she'd barged into Harry's room, and stared at his hands. "Is that a blister pack? Harry, are you self medicating?"

Harry hadn't known it was possible to sound both incredulous and serious at the same time. "It's fine, Hermione," he said tiredly "it's just a headache."

She gave him a scrutinising look. "Are you sure? Well why didn't you just tell Mrs Weasley, I'm sure-"

"Honestly, it's fine." He repeated. "I just didn't want any more potions. And I've gotten by on muggle medication for the first eleven years of my life; it's not going to hurt me, and I'm not going to accidentally kill myself."

"Given your expertise at potions, maybe it's a wise decision." She conceded. "Where did you get them from anyway?"

"I asked Fleur to get them for me. Don't worry," Harry added, "I paid and thanked her."

"I'm not sure about you and Fleur, Harry." Hermione said warningly, walking over and taking a seat next to him.

"Oh not you too." He groaned.

"No, no, nothing like that. I agree with you entirely when I say Ron and Ginny are being stupid for inferring anything between the pair of you. I mean, for one thing, she's part Veela. And she's got Bill, tall, cool, older Bill, and then there's you, and I know you're a 'celebrity' and all, but you're short, got really dorky glasses, your knees are possibly the knobbliest thing I've ever seen and-"

"Really making me feel good about myself here, Hermione."

"Sorry. Anyway- Ron and Ginny are being stupid and childish. But you've got to agree, given the levels of tension between you and the Order, and the animosity between Fleur and the entire household, it's not the best idea to skulk away together and hide for hours on end."

"Je ne me cache pas!" Harry cried with a grin.

"Well," Hermione smiled, "at least you're getting something out of this hiding. Although I think your grammar was off, and you really do have a terrible accent."

"Hermione," Harry said, well acquainted with is friend's ability to get off topic, "what did you come here to tell me?"

"Oh, yes. Well, I was thinking, about the psychology research we were doing, well if Sirius really does have depression-"

But what Hermione was going to say to him about Sirius, Harry would never know, because the next thing he knew he was standing in the hallways outside Mr and Mrs Weasley's bedroom and the sun had set. Harry looked around in confusion before cursing the Black house. Only last week it had spontaneously moved him from the drawing room to the bathroom, thoughtfully erasing the period in between. It was then he noticed two things, one, his hand was raised to knock at the door (what had been going to ask again?), and two, Mrs Weasley appeared to be having a very tearful argument with her husband. Harry quickly lowered his hand, feeling almost guilty. It seemed all he did these days was become James, research depression and Veils, and snoop on private conversations. Not many conversations were happy these days.

Harry hung around briefly to listen to the private argument (Harry also tried to blame this on James, but James just pointed out that Harry was the one with legs at that moment, and he wasn't making any move to leave), which seemed to centre on "Oh why did Bill choose such a silly supercilious girl?" and "Fleur is making a fool of poor Harry just to spite us" and even lightly touched on "Fleur is making poor Tonks even more upset, she can't even morph" but as Harry couldn't remember what he had wanted to ask them (he had a strange feeling it was to do with Mrs Weasley's brothers, but, Harry had never known them, had he? How had he known that they liked their Firewhiskey flaming?), and he had begun to feel quiet uncomfortable listening to Mrs Weasley say nasty things about Fleur (and mortifying things about Harry himself) and hearing Mr Weasley try and comfort his distraught, angry wife. So Harry closed his eyes and thought about everything James Potter. If he didn't want to be Harry right now, then he wouldn't be. There was always James.

Harry doesn't know when he comes back to himself; the house must have moved him again... Ginny's trying to kiss him. She's got her hand on his shoulder and her face is millimetres away. They were standing in the kitchen. Had he been sleeping standing up? Has he be been sleeping at all? What had happened to James? He felt a brief moment of freezing panic which does nothing for his headache. Then the door bursts open. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he is three meters away on the other side of the room. Ginny was still in the same place, hands on her hips, yelling at her brother, who stood in the open doorway. "No Ron! I don't care! You're so wrapped up keeping things the same! You won't kiss Hermione so she stays your awkward non-friend and you won't talk to Harry so he stays your fragile-friend! Well I love change Ron, and nothing you say will stop me!"

Harry vaguely thinks that he wasn't fragile, but he couldn't tell his mouth to say it out loud, and before he knows what was happening he was back in the centre of the room with Ginny's hand in his.

This time Ron pulls them apart. The siblings are yelling again. Harry wondered what was wrong with his head. The room is swaying around him.

"You're such a little girl Ginny! You act all big and brazen but you're just a girl who still scared that someone's going to take over. And you have to feel in control don't you?" Ron said nastily.

"No! No stop saying that!"

"So you push through things, and you make things happen and you manipulate people just so you know you're in control of what's happening! But you don't really want any of this do you? It's just the only thing you know you can force to happen. And you're scared."

"Yeah?" Ginny steps forward. She had her face in Ron's now. But she's not trying to kiss him. Harry thinks he that his thoughts are in the wrong tense. Was? Is? Will be? But his limbs don't seem to be working. "Well at least I admit it! You're scared of people leaving you, so you stop them moving on. You're stopping Hermione from doing anything other than work. You stop Harry doing anything other than brooding. You're deliberately picking fights with me so Mum and Dad have to step in and remain parents to little kids! You're suffocating us Ron! Can't you see that? We're suffocating because you're scared that if people move on they'll leave you behind!"

Harry's not so sure he wanted to kiss Ginny in the first place. But his hand was in hers, wasn't it? There's a great pressure building up behind his eyes. So he edged round the arguing pair, who were so engrossed they didn't notice. He slips out the room and walked away.

-0-

Someone came storming down the corridor past him. "Tonks!" Harry cried in surprise. "What are you doing here? It's Friday." Working Order members usually didn't turn up till Saturday lunch at the earliest.

The irate Auror, still in her outer robes, spun on her heel and raised one shaking finger at him. "I don't care if he spent years under psychological and emotional torture in prison. I don't care if he can't get passed that. And I don't care if he's trapped here. But your godfather, Harry, you're godfather-" She broke off, her voice trembling with anger. He didn't think it wise to point out he wasn't called Harry; he might just get a spider forced down his throat. And everyone knows what happens to people who eat spiders. They eat everything, and then they die. James rather wanted to live. Tonks took a deep steadying breath. "Sirius does not need to say such calculatingly hurtful things to people. If need wants entertainment and emotions, he can get them elsewhere. They say you're the only one who talks to him. Well, maybe you can talk some sense into him." She stood back and straightened her robes self consciously. "And, in answer to your question, I only popped over to see if Remus needed- doesn't matter. Anyway, I'm leaving. Have a good day, Harry." She was about to leave, but paused to call back angrily; "And it's Saturday!" So saying she turned on her heel and apparated from sight. Her dramatic exit was only slightly marred by tripping over her robe.

Harry felt that the day had been very confusing, and quite stressful, and that perhaps it was all just a bit too much for him, so he got one of his books from the library, and went to hide in his room until dinner.