"No!" I said, getting up. I felt absolutely sick to my stomach. "There's absolutely no way I'm doing that."
"Why not?" he asked, his voice full of anger. It was if I had denied him something simple, like a snack.
"I'm not going to be a murderer," I said. "You can't make me."
"No, I can't," he said, simply. "Look, Norah, I know it's a terrible thing to ask someone. But all I need is the potion from you. Just brew me a really strong potion, and that's it. I'll take it before bed one night, and then no one will have to deal with me anymore. I have nothing worth fighting for. I do not want this illness to take over me until I'm just a body full of sick."
Tears had formed in my eyes as he spoke. I couldn't even look at him; I had my back to him as I stood in the kitchen. "I'm a healer," I said quietly, "not a hurter."
"You wouldn't be hurting me!" he said. "You would be helping me! I promise."
"No," I said, "absolutely not. I don't even want to talk about this any longer."
I walked away from him, going upstairs to my room. About ten minutes later I remembered he probably couldn't move because of his ankle, and then cursed at myself for being so dumb. I was terrible at this job, really.
I found him asleep in the chair. My options were to wake him up, move him myself, or let him be. I didn't think I could move him myself, and didn't want to risk hurting him. He looked very peaceful, and was snoring pretty loudly. It seemed like leaving him was the best option. I took the blanket from the couch and arranged it over him, before tending to the fire and shutting off the lights.
Sleep didn't come to me easily. It was terribly hard for me to put the idea of killing Mr. Potter. It wouldn't be violent, of course, he would just go to sleep and not wake up. He had the argument that it was better than suffocating to death. However, I couldn't do it.
Eventually, I fell into sleep.
~.~
He didn't bring up his idea again, and I didn't tell anyone about it. I knew that if Al knew, he would move in and keep a constant watch on his father. That would not be good for anyone. So instead, I went about like normal. Every morning, I prayed that he would come out of his bedroom and eat the eggs I had made and the bread I had toasted for him.
After a brief period of happiness, I realized that this job was going to be the hardest one I'd ever had. However this ended, it would not be easy. Mr. Potter was going to be dead in a few months time anyways. I sighed. I knew these were the facts of life, but I didn't like them.
A little time passed, easily. James and his family came for the day on Saturday, which gave me some time off. I went back into the village that was only a short walk from his place, just to spend some time out of the house. The night before, Al had come for dinner and had paid me before he left. I now had an insane amount of money in my pocket, and it was burning a hole.
I found it hard to spend, though. I guess it took being around a dying man to realize how meaningless stuff was. I got a few new shirts for me, but just because I needed them. I also decided to buy Mr. Potter a shirt that would fit him correctly. He had obviously lost a lot of weight and was still wearing the same clothing. It made him look really shabby.
When I got back to the house, it was quiet, so James must have gone home.
"Mr. Potter?" I called. He wasn't sitting in the living room.
"I've fallen again," he called from the stairs.
I swore, and dropped the bags, running up the stairs. He'd twisted his ankle again, this time the other one. He was going to have a hard time walking. "How long have you been here?" I asked him.
"Just a few minutes," he said. "James left and I wanted my newspaper."
I tried to help him up, but I couldn't get him. "I'm sorry," I told him. "I'm going to have to call Al."
"Don't," he commanded, sharply. We both knew that Al would react more drastically to something like this.
"I can't leave you down here," I told him
.
"Al will overreact," he said. "You know he will."
"Not as much as he would react if he found out I left you on the stairs with a twisted ankle forever," I countered. I had absolutely no idea what to do. "You can't deny that."
"Let's have one more go." He said, handing me his arm.
"Only if I get a promise out of you," I said. Why did this always happen? I felt so guilty having to use him being stuck as leverage, but it was pretty much all I had.
"What?" he spit, angrily.
"We're moving your bedroom to the first floor," I said. "Because it seems like every time I leave the house, this is what happens. And I don't feel like I can let it happen anymore."
"Fine," he said, "Just get me up!"
I took his hands and although it was hard, and took all of my strength, I got him up so he could lean against the wall.
Frustration with everything was my prime emotion. It was everywhere, and I couldn't help but feel it taking hold. I was so angry about the situation I was in, about this great conflict. Who was I truly helping here? The man I was taking care of was suffering and I had two options. Pain potions and good food while holding his hand as he suffered an agonizing death? Or relieving him of his misery? St. Mungo's would have absolutely forbid me from assisting him with anything. But as a human being, could I force him to suffer on?
"Norah?" He asked, still leaning against the wall. "Can we get me somewhere to sit down?"
I nodded. "Sorry," I said. I needed to focus more on the task at hand.
I got him settled in the living room and started figuring out where he would sleep down here.
"I'm fine in this chair for now," he told me, as if he was able to read my thoughts. "Al will be over in the next day or so and can move everything then. Just come sit."
I blinked at him a moment, but he was serious. I walked past the bags of stuff I had bought in town a few hours ago, and sat in the chair next to him.
"Norah," he said.
"Mr. Potter," I said back, looking at him and waiting for him to talk.
"You can call me Harry," he told me.
I let myself smile a little. "Okay, Harry."
He cleared his throat. "You seem like a really good Healer-"
I knew he was going to try and convince me again. I stood up. "I can't do this right now," I told him, walking away. I picked up the bags I had dropped in the kitchen and went upstairs. I would deal with this later.
~.~
I was forced to deal with it a few days later. Mr. Potter- Harry had an appointment at St. Mungo's and Al had wanted me to go with him, to tell the Healer what I had been up to and make sure we didn't have conflicting ideas.
I hated coming back to St. Mungo's. After being away for so long, it seemed like such a terrible place. Working there, it was easy to ignore the harsh, sterile environment. But now that I was one step away, it was so obvious. My eyes nearly watered from the bright white that flooded every wall, and the scent of cleaning potions was hard to get away from. There was no personality here. As much as I hated my job at the moment, it was better than working here.
And I wasn't sure that hate was the right word to use when describing my job. I was just... conflicted in the largest way possible. It would be the hardest decision I would ever have to make. I was beginning to absolutely care for Harry and I didn't want him to suffer.
The waiting room was the worst part of the trip. There was so much anxiety building up. Al sat next to me, his leg bouncing up and down from nerves. Harry knew his illness was spreading, as did I. Al was still in denial.
When the Healer finally called us back, his fears were confirmed. "I'm so sorry," he said. "Treatments have stopped working and its spread. I give you one to two months."
I didn't look at Harry's face, because I knew that was what he was expecting. Instead I looked at Al, and saw pure agony. I couldn't even put into words the pain I saw. If I thought that I was in pain, I had absolutely no clue as to what he was going through. It just wasn't fair.
"What can we do?" Al asked, though his voice was tight. I knew he was holding in tears.
"Just make sure he's comfortable," the Healer said. "I can write prescriptions for a stronger pain potion."
"He won't take them!" Al said, and a single tear rolled down his face.
"That is his choice," the Healer explained. "There isn't anything we can do for that. Just be there for your father."
Al shook his head. The Healer dismissed himself, and we left too. Al walked in front of us, sniffling, but not crying. I helped Harry walk, as he was still suffering from his ankles. It dawned on me that his ankles probably wouldn't get better. Ever.
When we got back to the house, Al went outside.
"Go talk to him," Harry told me, after I'd gotten him settled in his chair. Al had moved his bed down a few days ago, but it seemed he was comfier in his chair.
"But-" I started. Didn't the fact that he left the house mean that he didn't want to be near us? I mean, he hadn't left, so he would probably come back in at some point, but I was confused. These Potter men were so frustrating.
"Just go," he said.
I sighed, and walked outside. I found Al lying in the grass, looking up at the blue sky. It was nice out today, which almost seemed cruel. There wasn't a cloud in the sky.
"Hey," I said, lying down next to him.
"Hi," he said quietly.
"I'm really sorry," I told him. I had no idea what to say. Was my presence even comforting? I couldn't see how. I'd never really lost someone like Al was about to.
"I know," he sniffled. Seeing him reduced to tears was like seeing thirteen year old Al all over again. He looked so much younger and more vulnerable. "You've done great with him though. He's so much more pleasant and I think he might have gained a little weight, even."
"He's great," I told him. "I do like him."
"With Mum, we had no idea she was going to die. It just happened- so when we were grieving, it was all one shot. Godric, I miss her," he covered his face with his hand.
I touched his shoulder, hoping that would be a comfort to him. "I'm sorry."
"But with Dad... this isawful. This is the worst thing I've ever been through. This makes my divorce look pleasant. He has absolutely no fight in him anymore, and that's not my dad. That's not the bloke who taught me how to fly and snuck extra pudding with me at night after Mum fell asleep when we were younger. I've lost him already and he's not even gone yet," he said.
"He's tired, Al," I told him. "Just give him a few days to rest and eat and relax. He will be okay."
"That's such bullshit, Norah!" he said.
"I'm sorry," I said, because I knew what he had said was true.
"I know, I am too" he muttered. "It's just... I understand Mum's not here anymore, and if she was, she wouldn't put up with him not giving it a fight. But are we not good enough? I always thought he did pretty well with us kids. We're all pretty productive members of society, aren't we? James is an Auror; he followed Dad's footsteps like one of us was supposed to. He has the perfect little family. I've got Sylvia, and she's pretty neat, though I may be a little biased. And Lily's doing fabulous with Quidditch. Aren't we worth a fight?"
"It's not like that, Al." I told him, though I knew that wasn't what he wanted to hear.
"How is it not like that, Norah?" his frustration was evident, so evident. I knew, because I was so familiar with the emotion.
"He's just tired," I simplified. "He's put his all into the last fifty something years of life and he's done."
"It's all psychological," Al told me. "He can fight a little longer."Then he sat up, and brushed the grass off his legs. "Better get back in there. He seems to hurt himself every time he's alone, don't want him in too much trouble."
I wrapped my arms around Al and gave him a tight hug. That was really all I could do to comfort him. It was beginning to become much clearer why Harry hated being babied so much, but I followed Al back in anyways. I made them dinner, like usual. After dinner, Al left and it was just Harry, and I.
He was watching me tonight. I think he realized that something changed within me.
It was today that it dawned on me. It wasn't just Harry suffering here. Al was suffering too, that was for sure. Lily and James were suffering too, I was sure. And now all four of them were supposed to suffer on for a few more months? I couldn't do it. I had the power to stop it all, peacefully, and now I was deciding to use that power.
"Harry, I finally understand andI'll do it," I said, my voice wavering.
"What?" Harry asked.
"I'll help you end your life the way you want."
Author's Note: Dun dun dun. I think it's getting interesting, eh? Anyways, thank you to my beta, potter-reading-coastie, who's awesome and stuff. Let me know what you think!