Footprints

Disease

    A bright red corvette drove up to the front of number four privet drive on a cloudy day in late June.

    Dudley looked out the window, through the white curtains quite confused until a tall, thin blond stepped out, one high heel at a time and began a leisurely trek to the front door.

    Her shirt was button-down and green, and her jeans were blue and form-fitting. She took off dark shades as she reached the door.

    

    "Bloody hell," Dudley muttered. He rushed to the door before the girl could ring the bell and swung it open.

    She looked a little startled, raising a thin eyebrow at him.

    Dudley tried his best to be suave. He straightened his posture and tried to smooth out his wrinkled t-shirt and khakis. He smiled. "Hello."

    "Hello…" the girl replied cautiously. She gave the over-grown boy an once-over and cleared her throat. "I'm here for Harry Potter?"

    Dudley's face fell. "Oh…" He tried to look hopeful. "Are you sure?"

    

    She nodded.

    His expression fell again and he turned toward the staircase. "POTTER!! DOOR!!"

    She heard the echo of an exasperated sigh and then footsteps as she walked inside the painfully normal house.

    She smiled when she saw him at the top of the stairs. He was of normal height, for a boy of sixteen-going-on-seventeen, with dark, messy (sexy) hair and bright green eyes that hid behind thick glasses. She knew that somewhere underneath the baggy shirt and jeans was soft, yet toned muscle left over from the war.

    He was staring right back at her.

    Dudley rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, and both snapped out of their stares.

    Harry stepped down the blue carpeted stairs slowly, walking to her. "I… I thought Sirius was coming…"

    She smiled. "Meeting. He asked me to."

    Dudley cleared his throat again.

    "Oh... uh… Blaise, this is Dudley, my cousin…" His eyes never left her gray-blue ones. "Dudley, this is Blaise, my girlfriend."

    Dudley scoffed. "You have a girlfriend?"

    Harry didn't reply, only nodded, still looking at Blaise. He ran a hand across her cheek and down to her shoulder.

    Dudley shook his head. "You're dating him?"

    

    Blaise smirked. "Hot, isn't he?"

    "Ugh!" Dudley cried in disgust. "Him?!"

    She glanced at Dudley and then back at Harry and started to kiss the boy who lived deeply, wrapping her arms around him and a leg, just for good measure.

    Dudley watched, horrified.

    After a few moments, Harry pulled away from Blaise and looked at Dudley. "Scuse us. Private moment."

    "Get a room," Dudley spat.

    Harry shrugged and took Blaise's hand. "If you insist." He led her up the stairs and Dudley heard a door close. A moment later he could hear the bed creaking.

    His eyes widened. "MUM!!"

    ----

    "You think he's buying it?"

    Harry shrugged as he continued to jump on his bed, scattering the red blanket a little. The pillow gave a small hop with every jump he took. "He's thick enough."

    Blaise laughed from her spot on the wooden floor. "Shall I scream for good measure?"

    Harry laughed and turned slightly red. "Couldn't hurt."

    She giggled loudly and said: "Ooooh, Harry! You Stallion!"

    They both laughed, until the door swung open forcefully and Vernon Dursley stepped in. "What is the meaning of this?!"

    Harry stopped jumping, almost losing his footing, but managing to stay upright. "What?"

    Vernon glared daggers at his nephew. "Don't play games with me, boy. I know what you were doing!"

    Harry raised an eyebrow and looked from his Uncle to Blaise. "Jumping on the bed?"

    Vernon cleared his throat, turning slightly redder than his normal skin tone. "Y-yes… stop… it makes noise."

    

    "What kind of noise?" Harry asked with a slight laugh. "Sexy noise?"

    Vernon growled, clenching his fists.

    Harry smiled. "Does it turn you on?"

    "Boy…"

    "Don't worry. I won't tell Aunt Petunia."

    Vernon gritted his teeth. "If you're going to leave, leave."

    Harry hopped off the bed with a shrug and gathered up his trunk. "Fine…" He blew Vernon a kiss and walked out, with Blaise behind him, carrying Hedwig in her cage.

    She paid him no attention and that didn't surprise Harry in the least. Dursley was beneath her. Blaise was, after all, a Slytherin. She wouldn't waste her breathe or her time.

    They walked down the steps, Blaise helping him with his trunk on the way to the door.

    

    Harry sighed and looked at Petunia, who had come to stand in the kitchen doorway, Vernon at the top of the stairs, and Dudley, in the living room. "I'm grateful," Harry said lowly. "For the roof you put over my head… the food you gave me… the clothing… but by Merlin I hate you. All of you. You're the only family I knew for nearly my entire life, and I hate you. I hope I never see you again. And I'm sure the feeling is mutual." He took Blaise's hand and stepped out the door with her, dragging his trunk behind him.

    He didn't look back.

    They loaded his things into the trunk of her car, and put Hedwig in the backseat, got in and drove off.

    "How does it feel?" she asked as she pressed her foot on the gas pedal.

    He sighed loudly, leaning his head back against his seat. "Strange. Good, but strange."

    She smiled, but kept her eyes on the road. "I've missed you."

    He smiled at her. "It's only been a week."

    "So?"

    His smile dimmed a little and he sighed again. "Spoken to Ron?"

    "Yes."

    "Hermione?"

    

    "Mhm."

    "Gin and Draco?"

    She nodded. "Have you?"

    He shook his head. "Haven't left my room all week."

    Blaise frowned. "Harry…"

    He shrugged. "Whatever."

    "He forgives you, you know."

    "He shouldn't."

    "He does. He's your best friend."

    Harry didn't reply.

    "Please, Harry. Don't do this."

    "Do what?"

    "Shut down."

    "I'm not."

    "You are, Harry."

    "I stabbed him."

    "You weren't in your head."

    "Then whose head was I in, Blaise? Fifth year? I would never have done what I did. Never have lost it like that."

    "I'm stopping the car."

    "You do that."

    She sighed and pulled over to the side of the road. "A lot of things happened to you last year that shouldn't have. A lot of things happened to you that I hate."

    

    He didn't look at her.

    

    "After Ron and Draco brought you back from Riddle House that first time… you changed. You weren't you… you barely acted human. And after the final fight…"

    "Sorry," he snapped.

    She shook her head. "I'm not looking for an apology. I'm saying… maybe… maybe you need help."

    He finally looked up at her quizzically. "What kind of help?"

    She sighed and took his hand. "Maybe… a therapist…?"

    He jerked his hand from her gentle grasp. "'M not sick."

    Her eyes became hurt. "Harry…"

    "No, Blaise," he told her, shaking his head. "No."

    She nodded slowly, still staring at him.

    He sighed. "Can we just get to Sirius'?"

    She nodded again, and turned away from him. She put her shades on and started up the car again.

    When they reached the small house, Blaise stopped. "Need help?"

    He shook his head. "No. Thank you." He got out and gathered his things and walked off without looking back.

----

    He’d been sitting in his room the entire summer holiday. He only came out to shower, pee and eat.

    And Sirius Black was sick of it. Sirius Black’d be damned if he sat back and watched his godson turn into a vegetable. Remus had ordered Sirius to give the boy space and time because he was hurting and confused.

    Sirius Black had given the boy nearly an entire summer to bounce back, but nothing had changed.

    It was time to do something.

    “Harry? May I see you, please?”

    It took a few moments, but he finally walked into the kitchen, wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of blue boxer shorts. His black hair was messy. Well, it was always messy, but this was ridiculous.

    “It’s three in the afternoon, Harry,” Sirius pointed out calmly. “Why don’t you get dressed and we’ll go out.”

    “No, thanks,” Harry muttered darkly. He began to turn back to the stairs.

    “What’s wrong?” Sirius asked. “Sick?”

    He knew that saying that was a bad idea. He knew that the proverbial shit was about to his the Muggle fan.

    It was about bloody time.

    Harry didn’t turn to face his godfather. “I’m not sick.”

    “Well, if you don’t want to go out,” Sirius replied, “you must not feel well.”

    “I feel fine,” Harry snapped quickly.

    “Well, then let’s go out,” Sirius said.

    “I don’t want to,” Harry growled, finally turning to face the older man.

    “Then you must be sick.”

    “I’m not!” Harry cried.

    “Then what is it, Harry?” Sirius asked. “You've barely left this house in three months, you don't answer your owls or even read them.” Sirius got to his feet. “Let me check your temperature.”

    Harry stepped back toward the sink.

    “Harry, I only want to help you.”

    “I don’t need help! I’m not…” He looked around frantically before picking up a dish from the full sink and hurling it violently to the floor in front of Sirius’ feet.

    They stood in silence for a long, solid moment.

    The boy blinked behind his glasses, staring down in shock at the shattered remains of the white porcelain plate. The small blue design that had adorned the rim was now in a million pieces.

    Sirius remained silent.

    After another very long moment, Harry looked up at him. “Sirius?” he said in a small voice that made him sound six rather than sixteen.

    “Yes, Harry?”

    “I think I’m sick.”

----

    Sirius walked through the barrier for Platform nine and three quarters and sighed. "Well, Harry, this is it."

    Harry nodded and hugged his godfather. "I'll see you at Christmas."

    "Yes, you will," Sirius nodded, hugging back. "Don't be too awful for Moony, Aye?"

    

    Harry nodded and looked into the older man's eyes. "Thank you… for everything."

    Sirius smiled. "Hey," he said gruffly, mussing his godson's hair. "What are crazy, ex-convict canine godfathers for?"

    Harry laughed and waved as Sirius walked off. He walked through the sea of students and parents and spotted the unmistakable red hair of his best friend, standing near the train. He sighed, squared his shoulders, and walked to stand next to him.

    "Ron."

    "Harry."

    "How was your holiday?"

    Ron shrugged. "Yours?"

    Harry shrugged back. "Listen… I… I'm so-"

    "S'okay, Harry."

    Harry blinked and looked up into the smiling face of Ron Weasley. "It… it is?"

    Ron nodded.

    

    "Oh… okay…" He shifted slightly. "I've been getting help… the mental kind. For my… mentalness."

    Ron nodded again. "So you're doing okay, then?"

    Harry nodded. "Yeah. I am… how are you?"

    "Good," Ron replied. "Worked at rebuilding the Burrow most of the summer… helped me regain a lot of strength after-" He stopped, and they stood in silence.

    Finally, Ron gave his best friend a quizzical look. "Why didn't you answer any of my owls, you right bastard?"

    Harry shrugged and looked down. "I-"

    He didn't get to finish. He was attacked by a mess of curly brown hair.

    "Ooh, Harry! We've been worried sick! Where have you been all summer? I've owled a million times and-"

    "Hi, Hermione."

    She pulled back from hugging him and slimed. "Are you alright?"

    He sighed and smiled back. "You know what? I really am."

    They boarded the train, the three of them, and looked for an empty compartment.

    Harry looked into one that had one occupant, and stopped.

    Ron patted him on the shoulder. "Go for it, Mate."

    Harry nodded and walked in. He sat across from her and she looked out the window.

    "Listen… Blaise… I… I'm sorry. You were right. I know that now."

    She didn't reply.

    "I should have listened to you that day… in the car, but I was so… determined to bury everything that I just-"

    "You think I'm upset about that?"

    He stared.

    "You didn't say goodbye that day… you didn't… return any of my owls, or anything."

    He sighed. "Blaise, I didn't read any of your owls… or Ron's, or Hermione's… I wanted to shut the world out."

    She gave him a sour look. "Well, congratulations. You succeeded."

    

    "I'm sorry."

    "You should be. What you did really hurt."

    "I missed you."

    "So why didn't you write?"

    He sighed. "When I finally got it through my head that I needed help, I… I didn't want to talk to you or see you until I was better. I didn't want you to see me like that."

    Her expression softened. "Oh, Harry."

    "I'm so sorry I hurt you," he told her, taking her hand.

    She nodded. "Sorry I'm a bitch."

    He shrugged with a smile. "You're a Slytherin. It's inevitable."

    She laughed and pushed him and he pulled her with him and kissed her.

    At that moment, the compartment door slid open.

    "Oh, fucking hell, Potter! I'm blind!"

    Harry laughed and let go of Blaise. "Lo, Malfoy."

    "Can't believe the two of you…"

    Blaise shrugged with a smirk. "Jealous?"

    "No."

    Harry snickered. "I think he is."

    

    "what?!" Draco cried.

    Harry got up and walked to Malfoy quickly and kissed him dead on the lips.

    The door slid opened again and Ron screamed and slammed it shut.

    The two boys jumped back from each other and Harry and Blaise both burst into laughter.

    "Ugh!" Draco growled. "I've got Potty taste in my mouth!"

    Harry smiled. "You know you like it."

    "What's gotten into you, Scarhead… Ugh..." He wiped his mouth and sputtered a little.

    Harry shrugged with a smirk. "Must be the medication."