Hurting Harry

AN: Hello! The writing for this one is a little experimental, I hope you like it. Not quite sure which way the pairings should go. Let me know what you think.


ONE

When Harry came back he had sweat clinging to his skin. When Harry came back, there was blood on his face. When Harry came back he was shaking and cold. No one ever spoke about when Harry returned.

Like an obscure and horrible nightmare that didn’t seem real upon waking Harry seemed a man struggling for some semblance of normalcy from the effects of a monster formed from his imaginings.

He came to Hermione first, not on purpose of course, because he was not in the appropriate mind frame or state, but simply because she was the closest.

She happened to be the one to open the door and catch him as he fell forward into her arms, completely unconscious and out of worry as she cried in hysterical relief.

His name burned into her lips for the first hour of his return as she cried first in happiness, and then in denial and pain, so that when Ron finally arrived, a full hour and three minutes later all she could say was; Harry.

He took one look at her face and tore past her banging on the door where he knew Harry was being kept and treated by Order Mediwitches, but Ron hadn’t come alone; Susan and Neville and Henry all lunged forward pulling him back before he resorted to his wand.

“It’s not going to do Harry any good if you march in there and shake him awake, Ron,” Neville said. “Hermione, tell him.”

She tried to speak. Though her guilty sobs had stopped, her voice wasn’t working. She shook her head silently and finally everyone fell silent, listening to her broken gasps.

Neville could feel Ron through his soaking jacket. He saw the instant desire in his eyes to comfort her somehow through his own haze of fear, but also knew that Ron was shaking far too strongly to even move.

He stayed perfectly still, Susan rubbing his arms comfortingly as Neville moved in his place to comfort their friend. And then they sat down to wait.

They sat still, in shock, in silence until news arrived that something was wrong, something was happening. More people arrived and left as they waited. Finally Hermione slumped against the rigid armchair in a dead sleep and Ron didn’t have the will to wake her when the first Mediwitch removed herself from the room.

“Is he alright?” Ron asked at once.

She looked up at him, exhausted.

“No, and he’s not going to be.”

Ron’s heart stopped.

He tried to breathe but nothing was working.

“What’s wrong with him, Anna?”

She glanced at Henry who had asked the question and sighed.

“We don’t know. It’s all done with dark magic to the boy, we have no way of stopping it, nor do we know how--.”

“What?!”

“Ron--”

“If you don’t know, then we’ll find someone who does!”

The rest of the Mediwitches stayed with Harry, but they wouldn’t let anyone else in. Hermione didn’t trust herself to see him anyhow, especially if there was a chance that he would be awake; she didn’t want him to see her. It took a whole two days and twelve hours of warding themselves and magically sealing the room before the news finally reached them, and with it so did Draco Malfoy.

He wasn’t alone of course, he had his superior a Mr. Amery and his son Walter. They swept into the room together tall and confident and easy in their surroundings.

Mr. Amery smiled and swore to do his best in saving the boy who had finally defeated the Dark Lord.

They stared as he directed himself to the door behind which Harry slept and his son followed. Draco smirked.

“Don’t tell me; you didn’t know?”

Moments later one of their officials charged into the room, excitedly telling them that the Death Eaters were on the run and that it had been verified that the Dark Lord was dead. His young face was flushed with enthusiasm and he looked thoroughly shocked when everyone scowled and Draco laughed.

Inappropriate time for a flash-back though it was, Ron was reminded forcibly of that laugh and was surprised to find that it still filled him with utter annoyance.

He looked different now, as did everybody else, but still his face remained unblemished and smooth, his eyes sharp. Ron looked away, wondering starkly how he appeared in comparison to his past self. Taller perhaps, and dirtier, but probably much the same. He felt his scowl deepen.

“Shouldn’t you be in there helping?” he demanded. “Not that I would trust you to….”

“Actually, I haven’t been trained in the actual operating yet, Mr. Amery takes care of that.”

“Then why are you here?” Susan asked.

He eyed her small form critically before answering.

“I’m here for the long term work… making sure he heals after the work is done.”

“So… you’re going to be here for a while?” Neville asked.

“Hm. You don’t sound very happy, Longbottom.”

“No, I--”

“We’ll have to squeeze you in somewhere,” Henry said. “Ron, how about--”

“Not necessary,” Draco interrupted. “I’ll be staying with Harry.”

There was a momentary silence.

“…how is the dark energy going to be disposed of…?”

Everyone looked at Hermione.

The first full sentence she’d uttered since Harry had stumbled into her arms four days ago.

Ron tensed as Draco looked at her, but his eyes were softer then he’d expected to see.

“We’ll be locking it, and burying it. Tonight if possible.”

“Not in an object?” she asked, her old worried self flashing through.

He shook his head. “Too dangerous, we don’t want anyone to stumble over the Dark Lords old magic.”

She nodded.

“Wise decision.”

They fell into a detailed conversation and Hermione flushed in concentration and in her old way was completely absorbed while everyone else passed in and out of oblivion waiting for Harry.