The Echoes Of Yesterday

The Echoes Of Yesterday…by Samayel

Chapter 23: Waking Up (Is Hard To Do)


Sleep was a strange thing. Unique for every person. Some needed more, some less. Some adapted easily to changes in sleep cycles, and some did not. Harry had. Dreamless Sleep had granted him the rest he’d grown used to not having. Almost an entire day abed, spent in the cool, dark silence of Harry’s dream-free mind. It was a rare treat after years of making do with fitful and troubled sleep at best.

Harry had abandoned Dreamless Sleep potions years ago. It was difficult to brew, as well as expensive, but that didn’t matter. There were side effects that kicked in after a couple of weeks. Those who craved peaceful rest quickly found themselves unable to cope with their routinely disturbed normal sleep, and abused the powerful potion to achieve slumber untroubled by harsh dreams and memories. The mind was never intended to go without dreams, and this quickly created problems.

Waking visions…or walking dreams as some called them. Dreams began to surface while one was awake, when the mind demanded REM functions resume after being suppressed at night. This kind of thing quickly led to delusional behavior, public embarrassment, and even drastic errors in judgment. For these reasons and more, Harry had put aside Dreamless Sleep as a cure-all for his troubled mind, falling on back on an old Muggle tradition that felt familiar and safe…alcohol.

This past day, he’d slept without troubling dreams. In truth, he’d coped quite well for years, and the dreams weren’t often terrible ones…just sad reminders of things that could never be again. Only these past few weeks had been increasingly unbearable. Minus the blur of alcohol to dull his sleeping mind and blanket his memory, Harry remembered with unusual clarity all that crossed his slumbering subconscious. It hadn’t been comforting at all. Not even John Prewett’s potions had been able to mask his restless imagination.

But Dreamless Sleep had done it. Harry woke in the early evening, more than a little disoriented and blurry eyed, but incredibly well rested and surprisingly full of calm and vigor. He hadn’t felt so rested in weeks…or even in months!

Then memory cleared and snapped to life, and Harry realized where he must be, and remembered precisely why. He sat up sharply, then leaned back against the headboard on the bed in the private infirmary room, rubbing his eyes.

‘Bloody hell. The infirmary. I lost it. I finally lost it. What the hell was I thinking? Merciful Merlin! I kissed him! Dra…I was half out of my head and kissed him! That’s no excuse…he’s a bloody student! Just a kid. Oh God! I hauled him about by his throat as well. That’s it. I’m done here. It’s bloody over. I’m not fit for this. It’s better if I just retire quietly and let people think it’s for medical reasons. What if this gets out? Christ! I’d…I’d have to go back to Grimmauld Place. Hide in the old house where the press can’t get at me. Who would even want me around them…if they knew what they were really dealing with?’

The sound of footsteps approaching the door interrupted Harry’s half panicked reverie. John Prewett stepped through the door, smiling ruefully, and ambled his way to the chair beside Harry’s bed with a sigh.

“Good morning…or should I say evening…to you, Harry. Sorry to have let you sleep so long, but believe me, you needed it. How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Rested. What time is it? Hell…what day is it?”

“You only slept the clock around. It’s about six o’clock. Quite a mess, yesterday was. I think we need to talk about that.”

Harry clenched his jaw quietly. It might as well be addressed now. There wouldn’t be any dodging it later.

“What’s to talk about? I fell apart. I don’t see it as a source of conversation. I need to resign and just get out of here intact. I can be gone in a day or so. It was inexcusable and I know it. I haven’t any business calling myself a teacher. Not like this. Not after-”

“Stop your woolgathering and stuff the recriminations, Harry! You’re not going anywhere until you’ve settled down and had some time to think clearly about this…and that’s an order!”

“What?” Harry couldn’t believe that the genial old man had just barked at him so harshly. He was too shocked to muster any anger, and too certain of his departure to embrace any other possibilities at the moment.

“Don’t act surprised! How thick can one man be? I can tell you’re peeling through way after way that this is entirely you’re fault! Poppycock! Utter nonsense! Harry, I won’t say that you haven’t done some wrong here, but more than a few people have contributed to what happened, and there isn’t one person involved who doesn’t know that! Don’t you play the martyr just to back out of facing what’s going on! Not until I’ve seen to it that you’re ready to make sound choices again.

Harry…I failed you. It isn’t that I’ve never made a mistake before, but I admit that this entire fiasco surprised me. I thought we’d have time to work our way to harder issues later. I thought my potions would do their damned job. Minerva and I thought you were coping with the stress you were facing fairly well. I was wrong on every count. I’m sorry to be scolding you for our errors, but by Merlin, I will not see you blame yourself for this lock, stock and barrel! Am I understood!”

“Um…okay?”

“Good. Now that we’ve settled that, let me bring you up to speed. You’ve been granted a temporary leave of absence from all duties, until such time as I see fit to authorize your return. Ron Weasley will be covering your classes for the time being, with a little assistance. Heh. No punitive actions are even being considered against you, so don’t even worry yourself over that. Your only duty is to rest and recover, and with that in mind, there are things we clearly need to discuss. The question is: do you feel up to discussing some these things now, or would you like the house elves to bring you something to eat and some more rest before we talk further?”

Harry gathered his shattered attention, and spoke with quiet deliberation.

“John…you’re a good friend. I think there are a few things I need to say right now, while I feel lucid. It’s kind of you to say those things, and I know you believe them or I wouldn’t even have heard them, but there are issues…things you need to understand before you make assurances like those.

John…I assaulted a student. I found Draco waiting in my office after that duel, thinking he was going to be beaten. He…he had his shirt off. I…I lost my temper…completely. Even with him baiting me, what I did was inexcusable. It can’t be tolerated. I attacked him…”

“I already know about that, Harry. Grabbed him by the throat…told him what he wanted to know…threw him down. He told me everything, Harry. We’re going to work those issues out, so that you don’t have to worry about having an episode like that again. If I have to, I’ll recuse myself from this and call in some help from St. Mungo’s. Minerva will decide what is or is not tolerable or excusable. That isn’t up to you.”

“John…you don’t…there was more. You don’t understand. After he left…I had…I had visions. Of Draco…MY Draco. I broke down. I was…I was going to drink…and I SAW him! I came to for a few seconds later on. I don’t know how long I was out of it, but I could hear his voice. I let the wards down. The last thing I remember was wondering why he still looked so young! I kissed him…John…I was out of my head…the boy came back…and I thought he was…his father…but I kissed Draco. I…God! He’s a student!”

“Harry! No one else knows about that. Draco told me all of it…even that…and I had to all but pry it out of him. He was quite insistent that your reputation be protected. He cleaned up the mess before anyone came into the room. In fact, he walked through the wards you set, and still had the strength to look after you once he was through. All in all, I’d say he wasn’t that distraught about being the accidental recipient of one kiss. It might be a bit inappropriate to say it, but unless I miss my guess, the boy rather fancies you…though he’d probably deny it ‘til his dying day. Was it inappropriate…absolutely! Was is something that can’t be dealt with? I think not.”

Harry sat, aghast and slack jawed, having just taken in more than he could mentally process. He wasn’t sure what he ought to respond to first.

“You…you mean…no! You can’t possibly be serious!? That’s…that’s…it hasn’t any bearing on this! What he fancies or doesn’t fancy is irrelevant! I was passed out on the floor of my office after all but mauling him! I don’t care what anyone else excuses…I can’t excuse it! Students are inviolate! Worse…ignoring that I was derelict because the student in question had some sort of ‘crush’ is completely irresponsible!”

“Harry…Harry…calm down! I’m not for a moment suggesting that this isn’t serious. I was just pointing out that it isn’t as dire as you might imagine. Some exceptions are being made because Minerva forced you into this and knows it, and because I obviously didn’t predict the strength of your potential reaction to a stressful situation with that particular young man.

Normally, I’d agree with you entirely, but even you must admit, the circumstances here are rather unique. The boy baited you into that argument, and he admitted it completely after the fact. He expected that, after you had vented, you’d relent and tell him what he wanted to hear. The lad doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about whether he was wronged in some way…and quite the contrary, he’s certain that he’s wronged you, and owes you an apology. I expect he’ll be along sometime tonight to make one as well. Given what I know of how this all came about, I’d say that nearly every mistake that could have been made by any of us, has been made, and I think it best if we all share the blame and just move on. It’s ours to simply do the best we can. Let’s not make the same round of mistakes twice, shall we?”

Harry blanched. “John…I don’t want any visitors. Not Draco…no one else either. I don’t…I can’t handle this.”

“You’re sure about that? I can keep them all away for awhile, but a lot of people are worried about you. I’m sure Ron and Hermione will be beating down the door if they have to wait another day. Not to mention our young friend…who at the very least admires you enough to conceal events on your behalf.”

“I’m sure. He’s the last person I need to see. John…you can’t possibly imagine what it was like.” Harry stared at the ceiling for a moment, blinking owlishly, then spoke quietly. “I’d swear it was him if I didn’t know better. My Draco. The way he sounded…the same wry kind of humor and seriousness in his voice. I could feel it all around me. Just for a few seconds. I felt…I felt loved. Absolutely loved. Jesus, John…I haven’t felt that in twenty years. It felt like he was right there…and then my eyes cleared and it was his son. I’m a bloody mess. If you want to talk some more tomorrow, fine, but I’m not up to more than this tonight. I…I need to think. Alright?”

“As you wish, Harry. There will be a few potions for you tonight, and I’ll see you before my bedtime rolls around. I’ll be a couple doors down, and the house elves will fall over themselves hurrying if you so much as ask for a single thing, so get yourself some supper and have a nap if you like, but be good to yourself, and try to remember that there is nothing going on that can’t be dealt with. Good enough?”

“Good enough.”

Harry settled back into the pillows while John Prewett returned to his own chambers. So many things raced through his mind that it made his breath catch even without moving or speaking. What was real? What was dream? He’d almost forgotten…after twenty years, what it had felt like to be close to someone who cared for you…who was intimate with you and you alone. He’d been better off forgetting. Now he had the clear memory of what he’d lost…and it hurt bitterly.

Draco was a complicated boy, and his father hadn’t been any less complicated. Articulate, sensitive, gifted and moody. Handsome and athletic, passionate and bright. So many similarities…and so many differences.

How could it be possible? Prewett had to be barmy to even suggest such a thing. Draco’s son had no such feelings for Harry. It had to be guilt over the duel and what came after. It was impressive, that the boy had walked through repulsor wards without thought of the pain and discomfort, and had done so much to preserve Harry’s reputation, but he still didn’t want to look into those eyes. Not now. It was too much to ask.

Harry rested quietly, and though his stomach growled, he had no real appetite. The thought of food soured his stomach quickly, and he flopped back and forth on the bed, too well rested to sleep easily, but too drawn and tired to commit to any activity yet. Somewhere, decisions lay in wait, eager to be made, but just for a little while, it was nice to hide here, away from a world that sometimes demanded so much.

He wasn’t tired in the flesh anymore, having slept a night and a day, but he’d been tired in his soul for so long that he no longer remembered clearly the days when he hadn’t felt that leaden weight upon him. In the sober light of day, rational and conscious, free of classes and work to hide his thoughts from himself, Harry could find no comfort or distraction to avail him. Only ghosts of what had been to worry over, and new troubles waiting in the wings for his attention.

As much as it had felt like one, this place, Hogwarts, was not his home. He’d never really had one. Not the Dursleys, where he’d been scarcely welcome, and not Grimmauld Place, full of memories kind and cruel. Not the Burrow, full of love though it might have been…and not here.

There had been a place and a time where he’d felt like he could imagine the future, full of possibility and waiting like a sunlit road unfolding constantly before him. And then it had died…and in some small way…so had he.

TBC!!!