Stepping into the ward I see curtains drawn around a bed at the far corner and as I slowly make my way across the hard, cold floor I feel my heart pounding in my chest and my breathing quicken. A fear unlike any I have ever felt before arises within me and it takes all my strength to stay on my quivering feet. After what feels like an absolute eternity I find myself a mere few metres away from the cubicle and my eyes are drawn for the first time away from the curtain and instead to the shape of a familiar figure sitting nearby. It is Moody and the look on his face only makes me worry all the more. Raising himself up onto two feet he comes to my side and as though reading my mind he begins to tell me the terrible story of what has happened.
He tells me how Greyback kidnapped the Montgomery's son moments before the Full Moon rose and how, despite your very best efforts, you were unable to save him from the horrific and savage beasts. He explains how you rose the alarm to the Order, risking your own life to do so and how by trying to protect the boy, Greyback turned his pack on you before turning on the child himself. He tells me how you were forced to watch as the beast began to maul the child, and how as the full moon rose you were rendered incapable of any more human thought and unable to provide the child with the assistance required to save his life.
As I listen to this horrifying tale it feels to me as though time has stopped and it is not until I hear the big door to the ward swing shut that I realise that Moody has left and it is only you and I left in the room. I begin to walk slowly to where I know you lie, not wanting my footsteps to break the eerie silence that surrounds us. Taking a deep breath I step around the curtains and find the air trapped in my lungs at the sight that I see.
You are lying on the bed before me, blood stained clothes covering your too thin body, and all the skin I can see is covered in bruises and scratches. Sensing my presence you slowly turn your head towards me and what I see shocks me more than anything I have ever seen. Your eyes show such pain that I find my own eyes swelling with tears and I realise that what has happened has ripped you to your very core.
Hearing the sound of rushed footsteps coming towards us I turn, breaking your gaze. It is Madame Pomfrey, her arms full with jars and bottles, no doubt containing all kinds of ointments and potions to aid in your recovery. I turn back to face you but before I have chance to say anything I find myself ushered out of the cubicle while the nurse tends to your wounds.
The wait is unbearable and I spend the time trying to think of what I can say to comfort you, to make you see that it is not your fault and to make you realise that I still love you more than anything. I think that if I can somehow find the perfect words then everything will be ok and I will have the man I love back. After what seems like an eternity, a very flustered Madame Pomfrey leaves your bedside. I wish I had the words to comfort her too but right now I lack the capability to think of anything but you.
I make my way back to your cubicle and this time as I step around the curtains I find that your wounds are healed and all that is left is patches of reddened skin. Once again you raise your head and as your eyes meet mine I realise for the first time exactly what the toils of the past six months and maybe more so, the last night, have done to you. You are a broken man. A man torn apart by the knowledge that despite your best efforts you were unable to save a small boy from the beasts that made you what you are. A man broken beyond repair because he feels he must prove to others and himself that he is not like them, that he is good. A man who in a short life has suffered so much and carried so much weight on his back, but for whom the weight has finally become too great. A man who despite fighting for so long simply cannot fight any longer. A man who I realise now, more clearly than ever, that I love with everything I am and who I hope more than anything that I can mend.
But it is also in this short moment of realisation that I come to see that there are no perfect words that I can use to fix this situation. In fact, there are no words that could ever come close to consoling you. What's done is done and no words could ever fix that. So instead I do the only thing I know for sure that I can do and to comfort you in the only way I know how.
I move closer towards you and as I do so you lean further away. Ignoring your attempt to push me away I continue to move closer and, as I finally reach your side, I reach my hand out to stroke your face. Once again you try to distance yourself from me and once again I choose to ignore your efforts. I perch myself next to you on the bed and fight you to pull you into my arms, whispering words of comfort and love into your hair. Eventually your efforts to distance yourself from me subside and I feel you give in to my embrace. Before long I feel small shudders rack through your body and then it is as though a dam has broken and everything you have been holding inside surges out in one quick flurry.
Seeing and feeling you break so suddenly is such a shock to me that I find myself struggling not to break down with you. I have wanted for so long to hold you in my arms but now that I am I find myself willing to give or do anything for this moment not to have happened. It hurts me so much to see the man that I love in such gut-wrenching agony that I can do nothing to ease and it hurts me even more to see you so completely and utterly broken. You have been destroyed by the burdens you have born and you are here before me shattered into a million pieces. For the first time since that day you left me I find myself feeling completely and utterly uncertain at what will become of us. I don't know if you can ever recover from this moment. You have seen too much and lost too many people who you love. You are completely and utterly broken.