Chapter 21: Run, run, run

Harry ran for what felt like miles. His lungs were on fire but at least it focussed his attention away from the burning sensation in his eyes, from the painful squeeze of his pumping heart.

Burnt on his retina was Sam's face, his eyes, wide and terrified. In them, Harry had read all the pain he hadn't allowed himself to feel – not for Sirius, not for Dumbledore, not for the innumerable dead of the Final Battle.

And it hurt. Oh, how it hurt! And how he missed the comfortable numbness of the past few weeks...

Eventually, his body reached its limit and he had to stop. He was panting hard and had to lean forward with his hands on his knees to try to catch his breath. His head was swimming – he couldn't remember the last time he'd pushed himself so hard.

Once his breathing was a bit more even, Harry wiped the sweat from his brow on his t-shirt and sat down on a fallen tree a few steps from where he'd stopped.

"We know you're you," Lily had said. Their son, their Harry – only alive, instead of dead.

And when she'd said those words, Harry had felt something he'd never felt before. And then she had taken his hand, and it had all gotten too much. James and Lily must have imagined what their beloved baby boy would grow up to become. What if he didn't live up to their expectations?

Harry ran a hand over his face. This was all so messed up…!

Hoping to distract himself from the mad whirl of his thoughts, Harry looked around him. The quiet rustling of the forest felt familiar and comforting after so many months spent out in the wilderness. It was a nice forest, thick and green, with tall trees and old stumps. He had been still long enough for the birds to start their fluttering again. They were all around him, shuffling from branch to branch, calling to each other. There was a beetle scuttling by his left foot. So small – and him so big. It was sort of what he felt like – tiny in a world of giant forces he couldn't control. He gave a half-hearted snort and held out a branch to the struggling insect, helping it along its way.

And after a while, he realised his mind was blank. He wasn't sure whether it was the forest in all of its minute details or the very real emotions he'd been feeling, but somewhere along the line, he'd come to the realisation that this was all really happening to him. It was not a dream, nor an illusion, nor an elaborate plot by the Death Eaters to torture him with visions of his family happy without him.

But then, if it was real, where did that leave him…? A long, long way from home, he thought ruefully, before stopping.

Or was he really?

That brief hesitation disturbed him so much that he almost started running again. Could he really be so callous as to give up on people he'd known all his life after a few short days of a new life?

His friends – the family he'd built for himself over the years – were mourning siblings, friends and parents forever gone – maybe they needed Harry too, just as much, if not more than the people in this world? He thought of Teddy as he'd last seen him, bouncing on Andromeda's knee as she clung onto her daughter's dead hand… Little Teddy, with his whisps blue hair. Little Teddy, who would be growing up without his parents, just like Harry had… Could Harry really turn his back on them all?

He leaned back against the tree and looked up at the canopy.

But surely, it couldn't hurt if he stayed here just a little bit longer – just long enough to tell them how to find the Horcruxes. He wouldn't have to destroy them himself. Then he could go back to his own world knowing that Sam and his family were safe – at least as safe as he could make them…

("But would this be enough…?" A little voice in his head piped up, but Harry chose to ignore it. Instead, he closed his eyes, breathed in the damp forest air and set his mind adrift.)

Harry was floating and there was a voice calling him. Quiet at first. Then louder. A familiar voice. Hermione's…

Harry felt a rush of affection for his friend, and the pull of her voice grew stronger. He allowed himself to float closer. His body felt weak and sluggish, the effect of his earlier run surely. And still, Hermione was calling him. Suddenly, unexpectedly, Harry missed her and Ron something fierce.

He wanted to – he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted. He wanted to hear from them. To know that they were alright. To find out how they were feeling, what their hopes, their fears, their plans were – all these things that they never really discussed with them before, far too shy, far too aware of the fact that until the war was over, there was no future, no hopes, no dreams for them.

Harry wanted to tell them all about the surreal few weeks he'd had. About meeting his family. About suddenly finding himself an older brother.

He felt a hand in his, heard a whisper in his ear – and he tried to speak, to call for Hermione, but his tongue was heavy in his mouth. He tried to squeeze the hand in his, but his fingers were too stiff – and Hermione's hand slipped out of his and, too exhausted to do much else, Harry drifted off away, back into the dark oblivion of sleep.

A/N: Hi all, apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. I had to use my limited free time earlier this week for life admin… I'm hoping to be able to post another chapter on Friday as usual, but be warned that I probably won't be able to keep up with my posting schedule next week. Things should be back to normal again the week after though, so don't despair :)