A Dark Time For The Light

52

They shared a hot sexy shower the next day and, packing a small bag and suiting up, were on the Motorway by midday, heading North. Harry had Draco’s arms around him all the way, feeling his head in his back between Birmingham and Sandbach. By mid-afternoon they were pulling in to the Manchester cadre’s new digs. Sev’s bike was already parked in the forecourt of the impressive building.

Lying long and low with the magnificent cloistered walkway at the front, a line of leaded windows over it. The one discordant note was the Muggle ambulance parked haphazardly with it’s doors open and no sign of occupation.

Harry and Draco glanced at each other as they removed their helmets, Harry wore a frown under his. Just then, a small female came running towards them over the lawn, “Harry, Draco, thank fuck you’re here. We need Alastor or Tonks, we’ve got a bit of an emergency on”, she turned and ran back the way she’d come. They hurried to catch up to her, entering a wide high hall with ornate stone steps rising out of it. They followed her through a maze of large rooms. The sound of screaming could now be heard, becoming louder as they drew nearer to the source of the sound.

They could make out the words now, “DEATH-EATERS, SLYTHERINS, a fucking WEREWOLF. GET OFF ME. LEAVE ME ALONE. LET ME DIE!!!”.

Undoubtedly a Magical. The girl went through the door through which the screaming emanated and the boys followed. The sight took their breath away. There were about fifteen people standing around or crouching close to the ground, all concentrating on the screaming person on the ground between them. Harry could glimpse the reflective strips on the uniforms of the paramedics as they stooped low over the prone figure.

Harry pushed his way through the throng, despite the hoarseness of the screams, he’d vaguely recognised the voice. There was a strong and unpleasant smell coming from the figure, comprising alcohol, vomit, urine, and grime, almost enough to turn the stomach. Harry peered between the ambulance-men’s shoulders. The young man was crusted in dirt and blood, his filthy jeans were wet where he’d lost control of his bladder and his hair was plastered to his scalp with sweat and grease. It was plain that personal hygiene had played no part in this man’s life for a long time. Harry was aghast, and, fighting down nausea at the stench, he came into the boy’s line of sight and knelt near his head. He pushed the matted hair away from the boy’s brow gently. Angry bloodshot blue eyes flickered open, and Harry was looking into the face of...

George Weasley.

“My God! George?”. The expression in the furious eyes changed to confusion, “Harry?”, in a cracked whisper. In a trice, Harry had the boy in his arms and was cradling his head, “Are you hurt, George?, only somebody’s called an ambulance, that’s a Muggle transport to Muggle hospital?”, he clarified as the boy looked confused. Eventually, he seemed to come out of a light trance, “No, I’m not sick”, he replied in a far-off whisper, “Only in my heart. I have no-one left, Harry. Someone found me and the next thing I know, I’m here and surrounded by Slytherins. I’m frightened, Harry”, his tone was small and child-like.

Harry tightened his hold and murmured into the matted hair, “Oh, George, George, George. You haven’t lost everyone and this place is safe. We’re not into Houses any more, we’re all mixed up now. I live in London. But Georgie, Ginny and Ron are safe. Gin’s in London and Ron’s in Italy. You’re an uncle now”, he thought of every soothing bit of news he could. “You’re safe now, this is the Underground, the Resistance, and Ron set the whole thing up”.

Harry turned to the paramedics, “I think he’s okay, but if he shows symptoms we’ll get him to A & E ourselves. Sorry if it was a waste of time, but I’m sure you were called out with the best intentions. This man has had a lot of tragedy in his life”. The paramedics grunted but turned to leave and were shown out by Pansy. Harry turned his attentions to George who was now shaking and howling his grief in Harry’s arms, clutching at Harry as to a liferaft in a stormy sea. Harry lifted his head regarding the surrounding people, “Can we find the lad a bath and some clean clothes, maybe a bed somewhere, while we find an Auror?. Who found him?”

A young man Harry only vaguely recognised stepped forward. “George was two years below me at school. I saw him queuing up outside a homeless shelter about two hours ago now and somehow got him here. He’s one of us, he needs to be with his own kind. I did kind of kidnap him though, He didn’t know which friggin’ day of the week it is. The cab driver wasn’t too happy, particularly as he threw up in the back, that cost me an extra tenner, but I couldn’t let one of our own go like that”.

Harry smiled at the man, a bare five years older than himself, and thanked him. George moved in his arms and retched thinly, “Sorry. I need a drink”. Someone passed him a glass of water, which he threw away with a snarl, “I mean a fucking drink”. Harry held him tighter, “No you don’t, mate, you need someone to look after you, take care of you. We got Hermione off the smack, even your Ron’s had a dabble and relapsed on us, but you’re here now, and you’re safe, and we’ll get you well again. To start with, there’s someone who would very much like to hear your voice right now”.

Harry extracted his mobile and speed-dialled Ginny, “Harry!, I can’t really talk now, I’m at work”. “I know, love, but I’m with someone that really needs to hear your voice right now”. She muttered, “Okay, but make it quick, my boss is glaring at me”. Harry handed the phone to George who took it in trembling fingers and attached it to his ear, “Gin?”, in a shivery voice. “Oh my God!!. Georgie. Is that really you?. Where are you?”. The poor boy was so choked, he could barely stammer her name over and over. Harry gently removed the phone, “We’re in Manchester, Gin. George is in a bit of a state, he’s only just been picked up”. He listened intently to her end, then folded his phone.

He helped George to his feet and onto a bench, “She finishes work in an hour, then she’s on the first train up here”. George nodded, then lifted his head and surveyed the worried faces around him, shaking his head as if to clear his vision, then spotted Severus and Draco and he looked confused. “George, I’m still with him, Draco, that is. We found each other again and Sev’s on our side”. George’s brow creased, “But I thought our Ginny was married to him by force”. “They were both under an Imperius, George. Gin’s back with ‘Mione in London. Ron’s back with Blaise and you’re an uncle, twice. It’s sodding complicated, George”.

Just then, someone announced that a room and bath were ready, plus a change of hastily assembled spare clothes. Harry smiled at George, “Can you stand?. Let’s get you cleaned up and fed, then we can talk, if you’re up to it”. He stood and George struggled to stand. Harry hefted him against his side and they both staggered out. Harry called over his shoulder, “Draco, could you call Alastor, love?. You have his number in your phone. If he’s short of funds, someone can book him a ticket over the ‘Net. Just tell him to get his arse on a train and we’ll sort out the finance”. Draco nodded and plucked his phone from his pocket and turned from the assembled company.

Harry and George were led into a very basically furnished room, the sound of running water could be heard nearby. Harry helped George into the adjoining bathroom and helped his shaking friend to undress and sink into the chest-high water. George lay back, his eyes closed and relaxed under the water. Harry thought that he’d gone to sleep, when he suddenly spoke, “I know Fred’s dead. It was like a light went off in my head and it’s never been re-lit. I knew the moment life left him, though I know not where he lies”, his tone distant, almost dream-like.

Moving to the head end of the bath, Harry found a tooth-mug and, tipping George’s head back in one hand, gently tipped cupfuls of water over his friend’s hair, then spying a bottle of shampoo, squeezed a generous amount into his hand and started to wash George’s hair. As his fingers massaged at the scalp beneath them, he murmured, “He lies at Hogwart’s, buried next to Charlie. There’s a cemetery there, someone has set up headstones, in the East field”, he rinsed the soap away.

He felt rather than heard the quiet sobs, watched tears track into George’s freshly washed hair as he tipped his head back, but he let Harry wash him all over, standing shakily so he could attend to his lower half, and Harry bathed him thoroughly with care and attention. As George sat back down to rinse, he realised no-one had bathed him like that since his mother had when he was small. Then it was him and his twin in the same bath. A few more tears leaked out until Harry instructed him to stand and hop out, yanking the plug out and wrapping it around the tap, then wrapped George’s wet hair and grabbed another towel and dried his friend all over. George stood there passively and let him.

Harry cast about the room. There was a dressing gown hanging on the back of the door. A man’s, but a bit short for his lanky friend. Always a bit skinny, George was quite skeletal now as Harry had noted with some concern as he’d bathed him. He helped George on with the gown, then led him back to the room and over to the bed. He flipped the covers back and George lay down with a sigh. Harry tucked him in and his red-haired friend’s eyes closed. “Thank you, Harry. I feel loads better. Cleaner at any rate. What are you doing here?, I thought you lived in London”. He turned his head and opened his eyes again, finding Harry’s.

Harry grinned, “Actually, me, Draco and the boys, that is Sev and Remus, came up to sample the delights of Canal Street, a big gay area in the city centre, and see this amazing place. The Manchester cadre were previously in some caves in Stockport, a few miles south of here, but two of their member got into trouble and the whole cadre had to uproot in a hurry. Fortunately, they were already negotiating this place when they were all busted out of the last, so here we are”.

He looked down. George’s hair was spread across the pillow and his breathing was deep and even, he was fast asleep. Harry leaned down and kissed his forehead, “Sleep tight, my friend. We’ll keep you safe now. You’re back with us, and if they can’t fit you in up here, then we’ll take you back to London with us. Sweet dreams”. He stayed a while, watching the lad sleep, then left and went to find the others.

They found a subdued group sitting around a couple of tables in what was being used as a dining room. He slid into Draco’s arms and was held tight as he shook now the initial shock and action was over and George was safely asleep. “I had to tell him where Fred’s buried”, then he dissolved in tears on Draco’s shoulder. Another comforting arm around him, a head laid gently in his back. Remus. He took comfort from them both. As he composed himself, he sat up and asked about Alastor.

“He’s on the same train as the girls. They’re on their way as we speak. I took the liberty of calling Ron for you. I thought he should know too”. Harry kissed his beloved, “Hardly a liberty, love, thanks”. He slowly recovered with Draco stroking his hair and Remus rubbing his back. He suddenly felt really tired and drained. He yawned. It seemed an awfully long time since he’d woken that morning and he sagged in Draco’s arms. Severus leaned down, threading an arm around Harry and Draco from behind, “I suppose this scuppers our night out?”. Harry tipped his head back and grinned into warm black onyx eyes, “Not a bit of it, but I could do with some food and a shower”.

After both, Harry insisted on checking on George before they left, he found him curled on his side, the gown discarded, a light sheen of sweat on him, the sheets pushed down. Harry found his eye becoming more appreciative as he looked, then hauled the bedding back over him and left him to sleep. His sister would be here soon. There was nothing more he could do for him now, best let him sleep it off. As he left, he noticed someone had placed a large bowl by George’s bed.