Chapter Forty-Four

Hospital Wing, Hogwarts, Scotland, 10 January, 1991

He opened his eyes and groaned, immediately wishing he'd kept them shut. Though it was only his first year, he could easily recognize the starkly white ceiling, walls, and bed sheets. He was in the Hospital Wing.

Again.

"Oh, bloody hell," a familiar voice moaned from somewhere near him.

He turned his head sharply and saw a morose- looking Adrian lying in the bed beside him, sandy hair matted and unkempt. "What the hell happened to you?" Henry asked.

"I could ask you the same thing, mate," Adrian grunted, sitting up carefully in his bed. "The last thing I remember was Loki looking at me. You?"

"Hmmm, I remember tripping in the snow, and- OW!" Henry yelled, clutching his chest, which had hit him with a lightning bolt of burning pain.

"What's wrong? You sick?" Adrian asked worriedly, wincing as he sat up straighter in his bed.

"No," Henry said shakily, easing back onto the bed. "I'm fine."

He felt anything but fine: he was freezing and sweating and his vision was going blurry.

"Mister Malfoy, get back into that bed or I'll- oh, Mister Potter. Here, open your mouth. I have your potion here," Madam Pomfrey said, bustling over to his bed.

He held his mouth open obligingly, and the foul-tasting concoction was poured in. He somehow managed not to gag. "My chest hurts," he grated, the potion having stripped his throat raw.

"Yes, you were bleeding quite profusely from that tattoo you have," she said shortly. "Why on earth you have one I don't know-"

"It isn't a tattoo, Madam Pomfrey," he said quietly.

She had the good grace to flush and hurried off to tend her other patients.

"Tattoo my arse," Adrian snorted. "Who lets an eleven-year old get a tattoo?"

Henry chuckled and coughed. "Apparently, 'two of the biggest heroes of the Great War' would."

Adrian became solemn. "That must be nice."

Henry flushed, remembering all the stories his father had told him of Lucius Malfoy's activities during the war; dark wizard, murderer, the right hand of Voldemort. True, Draco and Adrian were bright, cheerful, and happy, but that didn't mean that his father was wrong about theirs.

Henry shrugged. "I wouldn't have anything to compare it to, so it's just life for us, I guess."

Adrian nodded, seeming to be thinking hard. "What- what was the potion for, if you don't mind my asking."

"A disorder I have, some magical defect in me. Mum calls it Vox Adficio Syndrome," Henry said, relaxing as the potion began to warm him. "It's a thing where I have these… attacks, I suppose. I take the magic right out of other people near me and have a seizure thing from- what was it Dumbledore said? - the influx of power, or something like that."

Adrian stared at him. "I have something like that, but mine is Vox Tempestas Disorder, like a power storm. I have too much magic in me, and it just sort of... explodes out of me when I get really angry or confused," Adrian said slowly, licking his lips. "I can't control it, can't feel it building up in me. I only really know when it's just about to happen."

"That's where you and Draco are always going," Henry said, the truth finally dawning on him. "You go see your uncle to get help."

Adrian nodded. "Sometimes, just talking to Uncle makes it a bit better. Other times, though, I go hours practicing spell after spell with him- hours, mate- and I'm still not tired. I don't sleep at night, because Merlin knows what would happen if I had a bloody nightmare. I don't even try to sleep until early morning. I almost killed my baby sister over holiday because of this stupid thing."

Henry stared. Maybe it was his easygoing, devil- may- care attitude, but he'd never suspected that Adrian had this sort of depth, this kind of hurt. He could nearly feel the ache in his own chest as his friend bared his soul.

"Uncle says that I may outgrow it that as my body physically becomes more capable of handling the storms, or of even stopping them altogether," Adrian said hollowly. "But the worst thing is that I'm aware of what is going on. I know that I shatter all the glass in my home or light the dungeons on fire, and I can't do a damned thing to stop myself. I've tried so hard to stop myself, but it's like I'm in an animal's head, something savage." To Henry's horror, his proud, headstrong best friend's eyes filled with tears. "I'm nothing but an animal."


Disillusioned behind the drawn curtain, Remus Lupin slid to the floor. He was an animal. He knew the guilt and shame and secrecy and pain and lies like he knew the lunar calendar. He could hear them streaming out of this, this boy's mouth, the words stumbling over one another in their hurry to escape. He could help this boy, he had to help him. To do that, though, he must face the boy he abandoned, his former godson. As far as he knew, Lily and James had not named another godfather for Henry, after all these years…

"Remus, why are you on the floor?"

He looked up and smiled into the frowning face of Sirius Black.

"It's about damned time," he chuckled, allowing Sirius to pull him to his feet. "Tired of chasing your own tail, Mutt?"

Sirius scowled at him. "No, tired of being a coward is all."

With that, he strode over to where the two boys lay.

"Hello, Adrian, Henry. Neither of you know me, but…"

Please don't murder me!!!

I know that it was a really long wait and I must once again apologize.

I am a most unreliable person, aren't I?

There is a long story about the delay, but it comes down to exams, illness, school play, family issues, and a busted computer (for those of you unfamiliar with that term, busted means broken).

I am so very sorry about this ridiculous delay, and I swear to make it up to you with another chapter this week.

-TheNefariousMe