Hydrangea bushes. And he; like so many others; had thought, war had changed everyone. Despite being Muggles, they had been directly affected by the war and survived it. Still they had fallen back into old habits. On the other side of the open living room window, the TV was on and he could see Dudley hanging on the sofa. It almost cost Harry a laugh, spotting that his hair had also grown over his massive shoulders but was bound to a sloppy tail and he brushed his own full beard in thoughts. His cousin looked more like a walrus in a leisure suit that had stranded with a bundle of algae on its head. Some seconds long he played with the thought of jumping in through the window and shock him, but then he turned and walked around the house for the front door. There his eyes scanned the street for any signs of some neighbours prying, but he remained completely unnoticed.
A little nervous then, he straightened and checked his slim dark purple robe with black ornamental embroidery as well as the black shoes and trousers again on any dirt from the ruins or the graveyard he had sat in and indeed had to pat some dust off his stomach he hadn’t spotted earlier. Before he rang the bell however, he took off his glasses and raised himself on tiptoes. Just seconds after the sound he would never forget shrilled in his ears although coming from the other side, his uncle’s pleasantly booming voice reached the same tunnels.
“Who’s there!”
“Pos’ fer Mr Vernon Dursley!”, Harry called with his voice made deeper and an in his opinion stunningly good imitation of the accent.
“Goodness sake!”, he could hear his aunt. “I thought he’s dead! Didn’t Hestia say – ”
The door was torn open and they both appeared in it, squeezed together to see their guest. Vernon looked like he had eaten the weight Petunia had lost since the last time he had seen them. Harry granted them some moments of surprise, confusion, shock and even more of it when he then sank back to his normal size and put on the glasses with an honest, childish smirk.
“You!”, the two gasped, Petunia ashen and Vernon the red opposite.
“Sorry. Had to see that. Hi! Er – may I come in?”
“What do you want.”, Vernon grunted.
“Normally, if not having seen a relative for three years, people at least greet. But I guess, you’re still unlike most people, aren’t you?”
“Hello.”, only Petunia whimpered.
“That’s a start.”, Harry sighed. “So?”
“Oh let him in, Vernon. It’s not that he is a stray Death Eater.”
“Petunia!”, he hissed.
“Good gracious! If the neighbours saw him, they’ll talk already! Anyway, if he’s done anything forbidden, the Obliviators will handle that.”, her sudden ignorance did surprise Harry as well – and the unforeseen force she brought up to push her husband back inside. “Close the door.”, she snapped, but Harry had already done so, following them to the kitchen. “You’d like something? Lunch has gotten cold and – and it’s only mashed potatoes – the sausages are gone – but – ”
“No problem. If it doesn’t put you out, I wouldn’t mind eating a bit. Ginevra’s not cooked before she threw me out and I haven’t had the mood either.”, he stopped by a door under the stairs he had hated so much but now, bore so many memories he wouldn’t trade for anything – perhaps having had a better childhood with his real parents, but still, it had partly made him the man he was.
“Threw you out? Ginevra? Is she your girlfriend?”
“Wife.”, both of them spun, Vernon nearly staggering backwards into the kitchen. “Oops, having ripped the invitation, not deigning the inside a look, have you?”, he didn’t need to intrude their minds to read those looks without doubts. “I didn’t expect you to come, but it would have meant the world to me if you’d only read the card. Never mind. You wouldn’t have liked it anyway. Well, Dudley might have liked George’s and Luna’s fireworks, but he’d probably watched it from some corner once he’d spotted Hagrid.”
He though ignored the twitching form his uncle. Apparently the name had burnt itself into the windings under his greying patch.
“We had a nice little Quidditch match, Molly’s cake had been the best I’ve ever eaten and that means something. Ginevra’s hired the Weird Sisters – they even played for free. Was really great, regardless of Luna’s for once actually frightening stare when Molly meant to figure where she had gotten seven bathtubs full of white flowers from. And I hadn’t seen The Burrow as crammed since Bill’s and Fleur’s wedding. But hey, it was a double wedding. There hadn’t been a single Weasley not present. And everyone from the DA and the Order and the whole Auror Office and all of Hermione’s colleagues – it’s almost been like a Hogmanay Party in New York, just that it’s been last summer and the only `Ball Drop´ we had was when Charlie got stung by a bee. But yeah, as I said, you didn’t miss anything. Even Filch was there. You know, the caretaker of Hogwarts. He’s a Squib, if you know what that is. So you wouldn’t have been all too lost there. Still – ”, he sighed as deep as he could, “You didn’t miss a thing. Although I would have really loved you to come. But that’s all.”
Silence. Cold and embarrassing silence. Solely the sound from the TV in the living room, emphasising the gloom. Without a look at it, Harry snapped the small door open and, doing a security check though, already wanted to crawl in, his depression having reached a new pit. His plan had been shortly caused to rock however. There wasn’t as much dust as he had expected to find. In fact, it was cleaner than ever. What startled him most, was the mattress that laid in there, a pillow and a blanket on it. He had moved out long before he had left Privet Drive – but they – she? Vernon was most unlikely to have done that. Let alone the fact that if he had only slightly fitted in there, he’d have gotten stuck to the extent of needing to tear down the whole staircase in order to rescue him.
It was back. The knot he had had in his throat since he had seen Ginevra stumble. The constricting feeling, then tears he couldn’t hold, just like he didn’t really notice his hand wandering onto his mouth or the stare of his uncle when he figured what his wife had done. A limp chuckle jumped into Harry’s palm. It was the only near lively thing he could produce at the moment – apart from the flick of his hand that shut the door again.
“Petunia darling – what is this supposed to be?”
She couldn’t have given him less of a reply. Standing stiff like a pillar, her eyes were on Harry, who stared back at her. They differed so much, yet he saw what was similar. The colour was another, but the shape of those eyes was quite alike. So were the cheeks – the lips, if Petunia didn’t curl them like she did most of the time when looking at him, though not now. And in the light cast on her from the kitchen window, her blonde hair even shimmered a little reddish.
CRASH! Routine. That was what made him draw his wand the moment he spun, the split second his uncle’s and aunt’s lungs needed to fill with air for pressing out a shriek. His fingers clutched the stick so tight he barely felt it tremble when the nonverbal spell failed to disarm him and his quick flicking made three wands zoom at him, which he caught effortlessly in the narrow corridor. The time until either realised what was actually going on, was of a longer span.
“PUT THEM DOWN IMMEDIATELY!”, a man yelled.
“Or what? Are you going to disarm me, Peasegood?”, Harry murmured. “Seems a bit curious since I got all your wands. Dunno how you see that, but if I was you, I’d get back to the Ministry and watch out for the real trouble! Honestly? Good work, but first,”, he gave Peasegood back his wand; which meant, he threw it and Peasegood almost knocked his colleagues over by trying to catch it, “I closed a door! Only a minor door! Wandless! Whose worldview did you think, I’d shatter by that? Second,”, he threw back another wand, “Those you might have thought of, are my family! At least one of them has been face to face with magic ever since my Mum noticed she could do `strange things´! And third,”, the last returned to its stumbling owner, “You’d rather worry about what three people Apparating in the open in front of a Muggle house would cause if any of the neighbours saw – what the – what’re you doing here?”
“Hey.”, five people jerked at Draco’s flat greet from outside. “Don’t think, anybody saw them. It’s like everyone’s on vacation. Not even a beetle’s moving out here. Apart from Mrs Figg of course. She gave me a greet and disappeared around the corner.”
“How come you know I’m – ”
“Long story.”
“Yes?”
“Okay, okay!”, snarled Draco. “I thought I might get to see how you’re doing. But I – I only – found Ginny there and she’s said you went to the graveyard instead of work as she ordered you. And since you were gone, I believed you might have gone to work at last. When I arrived in the Atrium, this bunch here crossed my way,”, he nodded around limply, “Muttering about magical activity in Little Whinging before they Disapparated.”
“And you immediately thought it could be me.”
“Well, yes!”, he sang.
“Great!”, Harry huffed. “Now look at that! Even he can do that job better than any of you and he hasn’t had training in it! Really! Get your bums out of here or I’ll report you to Craigson, I’m serious!”
Slightly angered, he watched them squeeze themselves past Draco; who didn’t even think of moving an inch; check the street and windows and Disapparate with less noise than pushing the door open had caused. All they left was Draco’s tired gaze that travelled between Harry and Petunia.
“If – if you like to – ”, she gargled, “I could make you some new sausages to your mashed potatoes.”
“As I said, nothing that troubles you.”, aspirated Harry. “In or out, Draco.”, he groaned.
“Then I’m rather inside.”, the latter sighed, stepped in and closed the door with much more caution than it had been opened with by the Obliviators.
“So?”
“So?”
“What do you want from me?”, he studied Draco’s unsteady slouching until they were standing almost face to face, either pressed to one side of the corridor, Draco to the small door under the stairs.
“Didn’t I say that?”
“I’m fine.”, Harry grunted, but Draco’s hand was already on his right shoulder, a little hesitant, though gently.
“You’re still a bad liar if it comes to that,”
“And you’re still the same impolite tosser.”
“What?”, Draco startled. “Oh – oh! Sorry – I – er – ”, he half turned and offered the Dursleys his right hand. “Draco Malfoy.”, Vernon’s usual disgusted pout was back with consequent refusal, but Petunia quickly shook it.
“A – a friend of yours, Harry?”, she swallowed.
“My little pain in the arse.”
“Not yet.”, smirked Draco, fortunately quiet enough the Dursleys might not have heard it over the still turned on TV.
“Would you like to eat something as well?”
“If I’m invited, why not? Thank you.”
“You know where to go, Harry.”, she turned on the heels and slightly pushed Vernon aside so she could enter the kitchen.
“Whow!”, Draco gasped when he had followed her and Harry inside.
“Yes?”, Vernon murmured.
“I tend to forget Romy’s not the only one who likes to clean.”
“Romy? Who’s – ”
“Andromeda.”, Draco told Harry.
“Oh – you call her Romy now?”
“Yes. It’s easier.”, he sat down at Harry’s right at the kitchen table, facing Petunia’s back by the stove; Vernon joined them rather reluctantly at the opposite corner, as far from them as he could sit while still being by the table. “I swear, if I should have children one day, they won’t get names with more than two syllables.”
“Anything to drink?”, Petunia asked.
“No, thanks.”, they answered at once and she took some sausages from the freezer.
“Why are you here, Harry?”
“Dunno.”, he shrugged. “I thought it to be a good time to – come home.”
Clank. The frozen sausages had slipped from her hands, into the frying pan, a little earlier than she had planned to place them there. Hesitating for a second, she then put the pan on the hob, trying to act as though nothing had happened. Harry rested his chin on his right hand, watching her. He also did his best ignoring Vernon’s frown when Draco’s fingers hooked themselves onto Harry’s elbow joint with the other arm laid around his back while Harry’s free hand dangled over his own lap. Only Draco seemed to notice that his fingers acted as though he was playing some instrument.
“What are you doing?”, aspirated Petunia.
“Hmm?”
“Work.”
“Oh.”, Harry chuckled. “I’m an Auror.”
“What’s that?”, asked Vernon.
“Dark wizard fighter.”, Petunia managed to shock her husband like five years ago when she knew about Dementors. “Something like the MI5. That’s a dangerous job.”
“Yes, it’s considered to be. People constantly get hurt or even killed – but I’ve had both before and its not as hard anymore as in the first year. I think, the odds are in my favour. The Ministry only takes the best anyway and the training is tough. Kingsley made some exceptions after the war, though I’m about the only one of those who’s working less at base. I really don’t like sitting around in the office all day long. It’s unnerving enough to analyse profiling data people messed with. I’m more the observer.”
“Naturally.”, he could see Petunia curling her lips while she stirred in a pot.
“Meaning?”
“You always liked to sit around corners or in the bushes, spying on things that were none of your business, remember?”
“Now that you mention it, yes.”, he laughed. “Only now it’s officially my business.”
“Great excuse.”
“Perhaps,”
“So that’s a real job?”
“Yes, Uncle Vernon, that’s a real job with real payment and real work to do.”, whilst he was used to having to explain himself to his uncle for simply everything, it still annoyed him a little that this hadn’t changed.
“And what are usually your cases? What do you deal with?”, Petunia wanted to know.
“Security leaks inside the Ministry, peculiar happenings in both Muggle and Wizard’s world, any crimes which imply that Dark Magic has been involved, magical murder of anyone in general notwithstanding the circumstances or exceptionally brutal murder on witches and wizards. Sometimes we also get to observe suspected criminals and potential danger zones.”
“What happened to those mass murderers from – two years ago, I think that was already?”
“I can comprehend that you can explain what an Auror is for a Muggle to understand, but how come you know about the Peverell Sisters?”
“The what?”
“I know the Daily Prophet still referred to them as Avengers in their last report, but that doesn’t – ”
“Well, the Daily Prophet. That is how I got to know about it. Yes, Vernon,”, she said curtly without turning from her cooking, “Mrs Figg from Wisteria Walk puts her copies under our doormat every evening on my request. But of course, if it troubles you that I want to be up to date on – the dangers – in the world of wizards that could reach us, I will tell her to stop it.”, Vernon only blinked heavily at her back.
“They went abroad after the remaining Death Eaters fled. At one point they came back for getting more who had the grand idea that they might be safe here again.”, Harry bridged the embarrassing quiet.
“And you didn’t catch them?”
“On the one hand it would have been impossible and on the other hand they spared us a lot of work; though it took my colleagues and my boss a long time to accept that. The Sisters aren’t the danger. Their victims are.”
“So you are dealing with such horrible – ”
“Yes, partly. That’s been the biggest case after the war and so far the, well, most horrible, if that’s how you want to describe it. And no one’s going to bite you if you leave that doorway, Dudley.”, all faces but Harry’s rushed towards him, not having noticed him standing there.
“Hey.”, he gargled and shuffled over to the table where he sat down between his father and cousin.
“Hi.”
“Whataya doing here?”
“Sitting.”, Harry said curtly.
“Funny.”, Dudley smirked.
“Quite, yes. Your Mum’s just cooking for us and confessed that she reads the Prophet. It’s funny, considering you’re about the only Muggles I know who’re aware of our world but usually are more frightened of naming anything in connection than the average witch or wizard was of Voldemort.”
“So you’re still fighting people like that guy?”
“Luckily not as unfortunate as him, but yes. Any news in your life?”, Dudley only shrugged.
“Don’t you dare to ask Dudley anything – ”
“Anything what?”, Harry chuckled back as angry. “You asked me about my job too. Perhaps you missed that bit; Dudley and I are both twenty years old. That’s considered a legal age to be called an adult here in Britain. Does it bother you that I’m trying to have a conversation with my cousin?”, he could hear a faint snort from Draco. “Shut it.”, he added mumbling over the corner of his mouth.
“’S that your boyfriend?”, Dudley nodded at the blond.
“Great.”, huffed Harry. “Not that you mind, do you?”, Draco instantly let go of him. “Thanks. And no, he’s not my boyfriend.”, Harry raised his left hand to show Dudley his ring.
“Oh – so same-sex marriage’s allowed in your world?”
“Wonderful, Draco. Absolutely wonderful. Whom of you two shall I slap first?”
“Really cultivated adult you are.”, Draco sighed. “I only meant to show you that I care for you and all you can do is threat me.”
“You know I don’t bother that you want to show me such. But I’d prefer if you kept your publicly demonstrated care to a minimum, especially in front of people who tend to have troubles with accepting anything that sticks only slightly in their craw.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend you.”
There was this sort of pause no one could be too fond of. One of those pauses, where you would hear a clock ticking behind three closed doors. It took Harry some seconds to grasp that Dudley had just apologised to him. Vernon’s eyes travelled between the young men and Petunia decided it was better to not take part in the nonverbal drama.
“To your question, I got a part-time job in a skate shop down in Dorking and still take part in boxing tournaments.”
“I can see the second.”, Harry smirked, relieved that he might have actually grown up at last.
“And you?”, he again gave Draco a nod.
“I’m Draco, by the way.”
“Right. Dudley.”, he laid his massive arm on the table and Draco shook his hand past Harry who had retrieved his elbow, though very reluctantly and slightly afraid his thin fingers might get crushed.
“I’m teaching what Harry applies. Defence Against the Dark – ”
“Salad?”, Petunia called.
“Arts, at Hogwarts.”
“What?”, Harry’s head jerked up. “Oh – you mean – sure!”
“Not for me, thanks.”, said Draco but rolled up the long sleeves of his black shirt as the heat in the kitchen must have been too much for him and bound his elbow reaching hair to a loose ponytail with a black silk ribbon he had carried on his left wrist.
“Yes?”, Harry asked upon the pondering gaze he gave him after that.
“You – ”, Draco mumbled, folding his fingers on the tabletop and blinking heavily into space then, “You got some – dust – in your hair.”, Harry randomly attempted to pat it off. “And your beard.”
“Better?”, Draco threw him a glance.
“No.”
“Then shall it stay where it is.”, Harry said grim.
“Where the hell were you?”
“Here you go.”, Petunia said flatly when she put down their plates and went for cutlery, napkins and the bowl with marinated salad.
“Thanks.”, both replied stiff and lifeless.
“You want some too, Diddykins?”
“No, thanks, Mum.”, her son grumbled, not missing the drastic change to an even lower mood.
“Ketchup?”, the other two shook their heads mutually, their mouths already too full for speaking and she sat down at their opposite. “So you are the one who founded that wizards orphanage?”, her eyes drilled into Draco’s, making him choke, but he nodded. “I thought I had seen that face somewhere before. And Severus had mentioned you.”
“Ha-had he?”, Draco coughed.
“Yes. He talked about you with – with Hestia.”, Petunia sighed deeply.
“And what – ”
“Oh nothing too special.”, her eyes wandered down on his left arm that laid by his plate. “So he said the truth.”
“Hmm?”, his followed her stare, finding it to be directed on the scar that had remained where the Dark Mark had been, vaguely in shape of its former lines.
“That you had been one of them, but swapped sides.”
“Yes.”, Draco confirmed.
“What made you? He hadn’t said – ”
“Various things.”, he continued eating without looking at her.
“Those were?”
“Complicated.”
“And Voldemort hadn’t noticed?”
“He hadn’t noticed anything much in his later days.”, Draco meant casually. “Been too focused on his greed.”
“He exposed his actual intentions to you? When?”, Harry’s eyebrows had narrowed and this time he tried to break into her mind in addition, having the feeling that she wasn’t completely honest.
“He had to. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here.”, she said emotionless and utterly rigid, but that wasn’t what confused Harry. “He had brought us to a safer place in danger of his own life when they had tracked us down.”, slowly it dawned on him and his head turned to his neighbour, whom he found extremely focused on Petunia’s eyes with his teeth visibly pressed together behind his closed lips.
“Since when can you shield others,”, Draco though didn’t take his eyes off her.
“Since you decided to disrespect privacy. She just told you the truth. The rest is none of your business.”
“And you can judge on that.”, Harry frowned.
“Yes. He wouldn’t want you to know.”
“Alright, then I’ll ask something different.”, he snorted. “How old was I when he took me off your arms?”, both Petunia and Draco gasped for air when Harry desisted from his mental attack, however, Draco’s barricade must have had some side effects, because he suddenly felt a little dizzy.
“Pardon me?”, it was his aunt who frowned now.
“I can vaguely remember that he at least once took me onto his arms. I was a bit – er – upset before he did that, I think.”
“I can’t say how old you have been, but reckon it must have been somewhen before you started school. You see, he had been the only – `postman´ who had rang the bell and waited for someone to open the door. Of course I know why now, but back then I thought he was only social. He rang at the neighbours’ too, if they hadn’t told him to let it. Quite a couple of times Vernon had had to go to work earlier. I couldn’t have let you run around in the house alone, could I? So I picked you up to answer the door. You hated it.”
“Can’t see why.”, Harry chuckled, the dizziness becoming slightly worse and he just wished to open a window, but didn’t really want another encounter with stupid Obliviators.
“But you seemed to like him a lot. You always reached out for his beard or nose.”
“Did I?”, her eyes weren’t the only to get watery.
“Oh yes.”, Petunia sighed mournfully, to the window he so badly wanted to spring open, yet managed to burke his urge. “Until one day he asked me whether he could hold you. Your anger was gone immediately once you sat on his arms. And when I took you back, you cried horribly.”, she shook her head in thoughts. “God, what would I have given if I had been allowed to just let him take you away. Any time he did that. I believe to know he had felt the same. I still can’t understand why I hadn’t recognised him.”
“Neither do I. When I saw him up there at the staff table or – even right in front of me in class – in detention – it took me more than five years to even just consider he might be the same person.”
“Yes. His disguise had been simple but efficient. But I take it, since he managed to conceal himself from Voldemort so easily, it is no wonder I couldn’t see past his appearance. If he hadn’t decided to work on his own, he would have been the grandest help in the Auror Office.”
“You speak of the Auror Office as if you knew what’s going on in there?”, Harry raised an eyebrow on his words, into an increasing headache and he knew he definitely had to collar Draco later. “Well, if he hadn’t decided to work on his own, the entire society would have gone to the dogs in two days! They would have forced him to become Minister and – and Voldemort would have – killed him – twenty years earlier!”, Draco moaned. “At least that’s the usual path for self-proclaimed heroes in our wicked society – ”, he added mumbling.
“Why arguing. He would have never done that. Rather would he have sacrificed himself before anyone could have forced him to do anything.”
“Sounds almost like you knew him,”, Harry chuckled flatly and ate on, though spared the rest of the sausage, which tasted rather strange, but he considered it might have been due to the fact that he hadn’t eaten any defrosted things in years.
“I knew him better than you might be willing to see.”, Petunia gave him a cold glare. “There are many things my sister entrusted me with, loads of information she loaded upon me, loads of knowledge I never wanted to achieve. But I have. I am probably better informed on what exactly the Order of the Phoenix did before her death than any member, now dead or alive. Despite knowing I couldn’t keep the information to myself once Death Eaters would have gotten to catch me, she told me many things that laid heavy on her heart, sought contact in the middle of nights – many times I have sat with her at this table while Vernon was asleep.”, her husband’s eyes nearly left their caverns and he crossed his thick arms in discomfort. “She trusted me – and all I did was listening to her words with disgust, hating her for what she was. Now I know I actually hated myself for not being strong enough to help her. Every time I sit at this very table again, I hear her voice, see her tired eyes, her despair – or later, her happiness when she spoke about you while my own son slept upstairs – ”
“You did what?”, Vernon hissed, visibly not having realised what all of this was actually about.
“And I think I must bear that torture.”, she ignored him. “Somehow I have to. You wonder why I kept cleaning that cupboard or making the bed in it, I tell you why. Because I hate myself every day for having pushed my sister away, having pushed you away while you needed me most. I hate myself for my unconsciousness, for my cowardly ignorance in fear I might fail to be a good sister and aunt – I hate myself for having betrayed her – she had put faith in me and I failed to replace her as your mother. I hardly think I can ever make up for that, but if there is anything you want, anything you need,”, she looked straight into his wet green eyes, her voice beginning to shake, “Please tell me. I’ll be the happiest woman on earth, and if it was only to wipe that dust off your hair.”
“Help me.”, Harry mumbled, incapable of holding back his crying any longer since the dammed up tears had made his head feel like exploding any moment and the urge to vomit mingling with his already terrible headache let him wish to be back in the Forbidden Forest with Voldemort – walking straight into supposed death had been utter pleasure compared to what he felt right now. “Help me, Aunt Petunia. Please help me – I – I think I – I don’t know what to do – I don’t think I can ever be happy again – ”
“What is it, darling.”, she said calm, swallowing down her own tears, oblivious to her husband’s and son’s stares.
“I just – lost my daughter – to – to a goddamned – stair – ”
She was gone. Not only his unborn daughter, but it was his aunt who was gone from his view that had rushed to what he could hardly perceive at his left, as he must have slid rightwards. The screams that followed it were so distant he believed someone had actually come to follow his mental wish to be killed. White stars were dancing between his eyes and the blurred surrounding, like someone had taken off his glasses and then kicked his head hard, a head that now felt as though becoming one of the pumpkins in Hagrid’s garden and he somehow briefly remembered how Ginevra had nearly killed Hermione in the Room of Requirement.
And then he was back in the Atrium of the Ministry, with his thoughts only. There was this pain in his lungs, one of the many he had felt when Voldemort had possessed him and far away from his consciousness, vague shimmers of faces he was supposed to know, came down on him. But how – how could this be possible – possible at all – additional pressure found its way to his arms and shoulders, which he could barely match to those who were actually around him. He was nearly blind, close to suffocate, and felt losing control of his body that was moved in a strange way by a force he didn’t understand. The only thing close to what it felt like he could associate with it at the moment, was getting into an electric circuit, though he had never had.
A bright flash lighted up his view, but the split second he felt better by it was only enough to make some still working part of his brain understand what had happened, yet not to ease the pain that nearly killed him. And regardless of the urge to just let it happen, something in him fought against whatever tried to end his life. Probably he had been close to death too often – or more likely, it was Ginevra’s face that suddenly appeared before his eyes, angelic and clear, standing out against the blurred grey light. For a second or two he even forgot that he couldn’t breathe anymore.
Just then, some cold hit his chest and another sort of pain, confined to a small area around his heart, and he was sure it was pure love’s sting that had hit him; the only real thing worth living for and he didn’t want it to end, as it filled his lungs with fresh air. He could feel the hot blood rush through his veins, every nerve twitch. Yet the next that hit him was the awareness that she would be gone in a blink. He could already see her face change.
The hair became lighter and much shorter and the brown of her eyes mixed with yellow, transforming into amber. Her delicate face moulded onto sharp bones and before him was not his wife, but someone much older. Nevertheless, when he recognised him, understood who had actually saved his life, whom Draco had sent the Patronus for, the relief was not much smaller. There was another sting, in his right armpit, and slowly, with something he could feel spreading in his body, also his stomach calmed down. Ages later, it seemed, the lips of the face before him parted.
“Harry?”
The still distant but familiar soft whisper charmed his ears, like the times he had spoken to him weeks ago, and it was again as if he heard his own father speaking with the Healer’s voice, using his mouth. At last, he was painless. And it was not just an illusion, he could tell. All pressure gone, all but the gentle touch of a warm palm against his left cheek.
“He still – ”, he could hardly get the wickedly amused chuckle out, “Wants me – ”
“What?”, the amber eyes blinked and Harry could move his own enough to see the faces of the Dursleys and Draco surrounding him.
“That idiot.”
“Which idiot?”, Draco gargled.
“But I – won’t let him – ”
“Nor will I.”, Mr Carlisle said calm, with his other hand by Harry’s chin to check his pulse.
“I know.”, Harry breathed. “Thanks.”
“No need to thank me. It is my job.”
“If you say so,”
~~#~~
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