Questions and Answers

Harry rubbed his head, trying to ease the waves of dizziness that washed over him. His shoulder burned and throbbed with the sensation of thousands of tiny white-hot wires jabbing him repeatedly. He doubled over with nausea from the pain, grateful for the thousandth time Ginny had been the one to give birth to their children. He wouldn't have been able to handle it.

Blessed numbness spread through his shoulder, and Harry collapsed against the pillows with a shuddering gasp. As the nausea subsided with the pain, Harry let his mind wander, examining and re-examining everything Sirius and Snape had told him, in an effort to try and decipher their meaning. 'They're both barking,' he muttered.

'No, they're not.' Lily nudged Harry's knee. 'Budge up, then.' She settled on the edge of the bed with a wry grin. 'You sleep like your father, too,' she told him. 'Sprawled all over the bed and I'm lucky to get three inches of mattress.'

Something in what she had said made Harry straighten up. 'How much can you see?' he demanded.

Lily cleared her throat. 'Enough,' she replied succinctly.

Harry gazed at his mother in dismay. 'I'm never going to be able to...' He trailed off, searching for a neutral word to use. 'Well, you know...'

'Oh, you won't remember most of this,' Lily said cheerfully. 'It'll be like a dream that you can't quite recall the next day.'

'Whoever's doing this needs to find a nice hobby,' Harry grumbled. 'Send people in to tell me what I need to know is all in my brain, but then I won't remember it?'

Lily cupped his face with her hand. Harry's eyes closed and he hungrily leaned into the maternal caress. 'You know who did this to you, dear. You've been told; you just need to look for it.'

Harry didn't open his eyes. 'But how...?' Images of rippling silvery light flashed behind his eyelids. His eyes flew open but Lily was gone, and the warmth of her soft hand was only a mere memory.

XxXxXxX

Ginny stretched her arms over her head and yawned. She glanced at James, who was sprawled sideways across a chair, reading the Quidditch scores aloud to Harry. 'Will you be all right if I pop up to the tearoom for a bit?'

James' eyes darted between his mother and father for a moment. 'Yeah... I think so.'

'Want anything?' Ginny asked.

'I'm all right.' James resumed his dogged recitation of the previous night's game between Montrose and Kenmare. When Ginny slipped out of the room, James' shoulders fell slightly. He was exhausted. Lily had tossed and turned all night, keeping him awake most of it. Lily, too, he imagined. Dark smudges marred the skin under her eyes, matching the shadows that graced his, Al's, and Ginny's. James swung his feet to the floor and slowly slumped forward until his head rested on the bed next to Harry's hand. He blinked bemusedly at the nubby blanket under his cheek, the newspaper sliding from his lax fingers to the tiled floor at his feet and the room faded from the edges of his awareness.

Something brushed across the back of his head, stirring the hair that stuck out at odd angles. James's eyes snapped open and he held his breath, waiting. The flutter-light touch passed over his hair, sending shivers down his spine. He sat up, turning his head toward his father, and felt the floor drop from under his feet.

Harry's eyes were open. They were mere slits of green, heavy-lidded and puffy. But open all the same.

James' breath caught in his throat. 'Dad?' he whispered.

Harry slowly blinked.

James clambered to his feet, nearly knocking the chair over as he did so. 'Don't go anywhere,' he choked. 'I'll be right back.' He stumbled to the door and yanked it open, pelting down the corridor. 'Mum!' he called hoarsely. 'Mum!'

Harry blinked blearily a few times - the closest thing to a laugh he could muster at the moment. Where in Merlin's name does he think I'm going to go? Harry chuckled to himself.

XxXxXxX

Ginny slouched at a small, rickety table in the tearoom, a cup cradled between her hands. She inhaled the fragrant steam, grateful that tea was the one thing the hospital couldn't muck up. The rim of the cup had a chip on one side, and the pale green crossed wand and bone logo was nearly worn off. Ginny supposed it was the result of years of countless palms wrapped around the cup. It reminded Ginny of a set of china Molly had used when they were younger. Somehow, that in of itself was somewhat comforting.

'Mum!' James burst through the door.

Ginny sat up straight, nearly upsetting her cup of tea as she tried to set it down. 'What's wrong?' she asked anxiously.

'It's Dad,' James panted.

Ginny's face drained of what little color it had. 'What...?' Her fingers tightened around the cup.

'He's awake.'

Ginny said nothing, but she shoved her chair back so quickly that it toppled over as she stood up. 'Are you sure?' she asked, her hand closing tightly around James' upper arm.

'I'm sure.'

Ginny stumbled down the flight of stairs back to the Spell Damage floor, clinging to the hand rail to keep her balance. The door that led from the stairwell to banged open as Ginny rushed through it, dashing through the waiting area, ignoring the other members of the family gathered there. She pelted down the corridor, skidding into the room with James following closely behind her.

Harry was surrounded by a team of Healers, who were poking and prodding him, waving wands and muttering incantations. 'Stop...' croaked Harry, inaudible under the buzz of the Healers, weakly waving a hand, vaguely in their direction. 'Can't see...'

'Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up, sir?' a young apprentice Healer asked briskly.

'No,' Harry rasped truthfully, already exhausted.

'Can you see anything at all, sir?' the apprentice asked with rising hysteria.

Ginny stooped to pick up her bag, and dug the case with Harry's glasses out of it. She impatiently shouldered aside the apprentice, muttering, 'Git.' She perched the glasses on Harry's nose. 'Better?' she murmured.

'Mmm-hmmm.' Harry blinked as the room came into focus. His gaze zeroed in on Ginny and the corner of his mouth tipped up in a lopsided grin. 'Hi...'

Ginny leaned over the bed until her nose was a hairsbreadth from Harry's. 'Scare me like that again, and I'll kill you,' she whispered, her voice cracking.

A ghost of a laugh was her only reply.

'Mrs. Potter?' The Healer in charge of Harry gently tapped her on the shoulder. 'Could you step outside for a moment? We'd like to finish our examination, and in a few minutes, you can have him all to yourself,' he said with a touch of irony, aware of the various family members who had been in and out of the room all week, and even now milled about the waiting area.

Ginny let her forehead rest against Harry's for a brief moment, and straightened up with a shuddering sigh. She turned and walked out of the room, wrapping an arm around James' waist. 'Come on, Jemmy. We'll come back in a bit.'

James nodded mutely, swallowing heavily and allowed his mother to steer him out into the corridor and through the swinging door to join the others. 'Ginny?' Molly asked anxiously.

'He's conscious...' Ginny's knees suddenly gave out and she sat down hard in the closest chair.

James stood on the edge of the small crowd around his mother, breathing in shallow pants, his mouth twisting as he tried to keep from crying. He slowly backed away, and strolled to the door to the stairwell as nonchalantly as possible, his hands clenched tightly into fists. With studied calm, he twisted the doorknob, and slipped through the small gap. James went down a few steps and sat down on the edge of a step, with his arms wrapped around his knees. He buried his face in his knees and, breathing deeply.

He didn't hear the door above him open, nor did he realize Teddy joined him until Teddy nudged his arm. James glanced up to find a neatly folded handkerchief in front of his face. He took it and rubbed it roughly over his damp cheeks. 'If you tell anyone I cried, I'll call you a bloody liar,' James said darkly.

'Won't tell a soul,' Teddy promised. He ruffled James' hair. 'If it makes you feel better, Tuesday morning I went home and cried like a baby.'

James sniffled a few times, wiping his nose on the shoulder of his shirt. 'Really?' he asked disbelievingly.

'Yeah. In front of Vic, too.' Teddy leaned back on his elbows, studying the dingy wall in front of them. 'I didn't know what was going on,' he explained. 'And I was terrified that I'd lose...' Teddy took a deep breath. 'I'd lose my dad,' he said quietly.

James shot him a look of confusion. 'But... Your dad...' He trailed off, embarrassed.

Teddy rubbed the area under his nose. 'My dad will always be my dad. Nothing will ever change that. But your dad... He helped me become a man.' Teddy stared at the toes of his scuffed boots. 'I don't think my dad would ever begrudge Harry that.'

James gave Teddy a sort of half nod. 'Do we have to go back now?' he mumbled.

'We can stay as long as you like.'

James twisted the handkerchief between his fingers. 'What was your dad like?' he asked curiously.

'I just know what I've heard in stories from your parents and Ron and Hermione. And Gran.' Teddy paused. 'I idolized him when I was younger. Then found out he had a few flaws, and was really angry at him for a while. Got over it pretty quickly, though. But he was one of the gentlest people your dad ever knew, despite - or maybe in spite of - being a werewolf. He read a lot. Always had a book somewhere on him. Anything and everything. Muggle novels and poetry. Treatises on Defense against Dark Magic. He always seemed a little sad. Or at least that's what your mum says. Your dad says he was one of the best teachers he ever had.' Teddy shrugged. 'Superficial stuff, mostly, I guess.' Teddy's vision blurred and he rubbed the back of his neck. 'I wish sometimes, that I remembered what his voice sounded like, or what it felt like when he held me. Or whether or not he and my mum would have liked Vic.'

Teddy inhaled slowly. He could smell the scent of the laundry soap Ginny and Harry used in James' clothes and the underlying tang of the soap James had used to wash that morning. 'I just don't dwell on it,' he said. 'If I did, I'd think about it all the time.'

James rubbed his hand over his face. He could feel the wispy stubble that dotted his cheeks. He hadn't shaved since Sunday, because every time he picked up his razor, he could see Harry standing behind him, patiently guiding his hand over the slopes of his face. 'I just kept thinking,' he began haltingly, 'that I'd never... That he'd...' James stammered.

Teddy' squeezed James' shoulder. 'Yeah, I know.'

XxXxXxX

Hermione felt the mobile in her pocket vibrate, and she dropped the skirt she was folding and pulled it out. It was Ron. 'Hiya.'

Ron leaned against the side of a bus shelter. 'He's awake,' he said simply. 'He'll recover; it'll just take a while.'

Hermione's eyes closed. 'Oh, thank Merlin,' she breathed.

Ron gazed unseeing at the bustle of the street. 'I'm confused though,' he said.

'Why?'

'Well, it was the same curse that hit you fifth year.'

'Right.' Hermione tucked the mobile between her ear and shoulder, and picked up the abandoned skirt.

'They said he should have come out of it early Tuesday morning. But it's Saturday.'

'Theoretically, he should have,' Hermione told Ron. 'It depends on where the curse hits. See, I got hit in the chest, and one of the only reasons it didn't kill me was because Dolohov's aim was off and it didn't hit directly over my heart. I had a lot of damage to my right lung, though.'

'But Harry just got it on the shoulder, over his collarbone... It shouldn't have been that bad,' persisted Ron.

'That's what makes that curse so nasty,' Hermione said, placing the skirt in a large suitcase. 'It's rather unpredictable.'

'But five days?' Ron asked, baffled.

Hermione sank to the edge of the bed. 'It depends on the person. Harry's also more than twenty years older than I was when I got hit,' she said pragmatically. 'But I'm not a Healer, so what do I know?'

Ron snorted. 'Know about as much as one. You'd think there would be a potion or spell that could have made him wake up faster.'

'You ought to know the answer to that question, Ron,' Hermione told him. 'Magic - '

'Doesn't solve everything, I know...' Ron sighed heavily. 'So... How are you?'

'Packing up Mum's things.'

'Where's your mum?'

Hermione glanced guiltily toward the wall. 'Sleeping.'

Ron's eyebrow rose. 'She seems to be sleeping an awful lot, hen.' He chortled. 'Are you putting Sleeping Draughts in her tea or something?'

'Erm...' Hermione cleared her throat.

'Hermione!' Ron gasped in shock. 'That's - that's unethical!'

'Don't you think I know that?' she asked tightly. 'But if you can tell me a different way to get her things packed up before tomorrow afternoon, I'm willing to listen.'

Ron sighed and glanced down the street, watching a delivery van attempt to parallel park in the narrow space between two other cars. 'Wouldn't be the first time we've done something like that...' he murmured.

'Used potions for inappropriate means?' Hermione said dryly. 'Right. We did start doing that rather early, didn't we?'

'Just a bit,' Ron agreed with a grin. 'So tomorrow, huh?'

'Yeah.' Hermione gave up trying to pack, and sat on the edge of the bed. 'I don't quite know how to say it, except to tell her that we're moving somewhere smaller, and hope that I can slip out while she's distracted.'

'Kind of reminds you of when Rosie went through that clingy stage.'

'Yeah, it does. Mum's just a bit bigger than Rosie was when she was two.'

Ron smirked as the van's driver gave up trying to park in the space and moved down the street. 'What's it like?'

'It's... nice,' Hermione murmured. 'It's got aquariums, and a couple of dogs and cats that live there, and the residents seem to like having them around. She's got a room to herself just now, but she could have a roommate later. They take them on outings sometimes. There's a nice fenced-in garden in the back where she can go outside when the weather's nice.'

'Sounds like a nice place.' Ron shifted the mobile to his other ear.

'Oh? Then why do we keep saying "nice"?' Hermione asked bitterly.

'What else are we supposed to say?' Ron retorted. 'That's it's a hellhole?'

'Well, no...' Hermione slowly fell back against the mattress. 'It just feels like we're trying too hard.'

'You're doing what you think is best for your mum,' Ron said.

'Yeah...' Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. 'I'll be home as soon as I can get Mum settled.'

A smile blossomed across Ron's face. 'You will?' he said hopefully.

Hermione grinned at the not-so-hidden emotion in Ron's voice. 'Yeah. By dinner, probably.'

'Hey, Hermione?'

'Yes?'

'I love you...'

Hermione sniffed, and a tear slid from the corner of her eye. 'Thanks. I needed to hear that.'

'I know.'

'Bye, then.' Hermione slowly closed the mobile, and slid it back into the pocket of her jeans. She lifted her wrist to her eyes, peering at the face of her watch. Jane would be awake in a few hours, and Hermione wanted to have her mother's things packed and stowed in the car before she woke up. She pushed herself to a sitting position and picked up another skirt from the pile draped over the bed.

She started humming under her breath, as she laid the folded skirt into the suitcase.

Now the time has come to leave you/One more time let me kiss you/Then close your eyes I'll be on my way...

XxXxXxX

'Where are we going again?' Jane asked fretfully.

'We're going to move somewhere else,' Hermione replied, her eyes glued to the road. 'Somewhere a little smaller.'

'But why?' Jane asked plaintively.

'That house was getting a bit too big for just the two of us,' Hermione said smoothly, surreptitiously crossing her fingers.

'Oh...'

'It'll be nice,' Hermione said encouragingly, but wincing inwardly at the use of the word "nice". 'We won't have to cook, or do the washing up. There's an aquarium like you used to have.'

'Really?' Jane's face lit up like a child's. 'Oh, I do hope I can help feed them...'

'I'm sure you can,' Hermione replied. She spent the rest of the short drive to the care home murmuring noncommittal answers to her mother. She got out of the car, and quickly moved around to the passenger side to open Jane's door.

A nurse came out to greet them, introducing herself to Hermione. 'Good morning. I'm Rebecca.'

Hermione smiled weakly. 'Hello. Hermione. And this is Jane...' She gently nudged Jane. 'Say hello, Mum,' she whispered.

'Hello...' Jane belatedly extended her hand, like a small girl suddenly remembering her manners.

Rebecca took the proffered hand and shook it. 'Would you like to come inside? We have a nice kitty who's wanting for some attention.'

Jane glanced doubtfully at Hermione, who nodded. 'Well, all right then...' She allowed Rebecca to take her elbow and guide her into the front door. Hermione opened the boot of the car and hefted Jane's suitcase out of it. A large hand reached down and grasped the handle.

'Allow me, miss,' muttered a sturdy young man. 'Is there any more?' he asked. Hermione gestured to boot to another smaller bag filled with photographs and books. He carried the bags to the door, stopping briefly to punch a series of numbers on a panel next to the door. A soft click sounded, and he pushed it open. Hermione wearily followed him inside.

'Good morning, Mrs. Weasley.' The director of the home greeted her with a bright smile. 'If you could just come in here for a moment?' She indicated a small office. 'I'll need you to sign a few papers, then you can go help your mother get settled.'

'Fine.' Hermione dropped into the chair in front of the desk, and signed where the director pointed, carefully scanning the paperwork. It was pretty standard - health issues, medications, allergies. 'Um. She likes fish. The kind in the aquarium, I mean,' she spluttered. 'She likes to feed them.'

'I think we can arrange that.' The director smiled. 'I know you feel badly about this, but it's going to be all right.'

'That's what I keep telling myself,' Hermione muttered.

'Here's the code for the door,' the director said, sliding a slip of paper across the desk. 'It changes every quarter, so we'll send you a note with the new code. Only the people you allow will be able to take your mother out of the home. If anything happens to her, we will ring you immediately.'

'Thank you.' Hermione fiddled with the pen she'd used.

'You can come see her any time you want,' the director added. 'Take her out for a couple of hours if you like. Bring a few items from home to decorate her room next time. They seem to enjoy that. And it makes it less institutional.' The director's smile twisted slightly. 'Although, between you and me, I don't care how "cheery" you try to make it, it's still emotionally draining for the family visiting.'

Hermione giggled in surprise, clapping a hand over her mouth in shock. She carefully laid the pen down on the desk. 'Anything else?'

'No. Go on and unpack your mother's things. She's in room 418.'

Hermione trudged down the softly lit corridor, trying not to look at the more severe patients, who sat silently, sometimes staring vacantly into space, others muttering indistinctly under their breaths. Some were relatively lucid; chatting to each other about Godric knew what. Hermione found the door that already bore her mother's name, the suitcase sitting neatly on the bed. Jane was ensconced in a chair, gently stroking an orange-and-white tabby cat. 'I see you've made a friend,' Hermione said with more cheerfulness than she felt. She reached down and gently scratched the purring cat under its chin.

'Her name is Peaches,' Jane informed her daughter. 'That nice lady who brought me here said so.'

'Well, hullo there, Peaches,' Hermione said softly. She gave the cat one last pat, then bent to open the suitcase. She stowed Jane's clothing in the wardrobe, along with a few pairs of shoes and her slippers. A couple of fluffy towels and toiletries went into the small bathroom attached to the room. It wasn't bad, Hermione allowed, but it still wasn't home.

'Hermione?' Jane's voice sounded small in the relative quiet of the room. 'Where are you going to sleep?'

'I have a room on another floor,' Hermione lied smoothly.

'With other girls your age, eh? Like school.'

'Exactly like school.' Hermione took a few framed photographs of herself with Ron and the children and one with Jane and Richard shortly before he died, paired with one from their wedding day from the bag and arranged them on the small night table next to the bed. A small stack of books were lined up neatly on the windowsill. She reached into the large suitcase one last time and took out the quilt she'd found in the linen cupboard last night. It was the one that had lain on Hermione's bed as a child. Appliquéd butterflies danced over a background of floral patches. It had been a gift to Hermione for her fifth birthday from her own grandmother.

As she spread it over the bed, Hermione realized the director had been right. Even with all the homey touches she had added to room, it was exhausting, even for the hour Hermione had spent unpacking her mother's things. 'All right, Mum, your clothes are in here,' she said, touching the side of the wardrobe. 'So is your dressing gown. I put your favorite books over here,' Hermione added, running a finger across the spines of the somewhat battered novels. She blinked back the tears that suddenly stung her eyes. 'I'll be back soon...' Quickly, Hermione spun around and stuffed the smaller bag inside the larger suitcase and zipped it closed.

She thought she had managed to bring her emotions under control until she heard her mother sing softly, 'So kiss me and smile for me/Tell me that you'll wait for me/ Hold me like you'll never let me go./I'm leaving on a jet plane/ I don't know when I'll be back again/ Oh, babe, I hate to go...'

Hermione gasped and her hand tightened around the handle of the suitcase. She slowly sat on the foot of Jane's bed, burying her face in her hands. She felt the bed give slightly as Jane joined her. 'What's the matter, dear? You'll be back for the Christmas holiday...'

Hermione sat up and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. 'I'm going to miss you, Mum,' she confessed.

'You'll be back soon, Hermione. Just like you said.' Jane gently thumbed a few stray tears from Hermione's cheeks. 'There now. One more hug?' Hermione nodded mutely and wrapped her arms around her mother, unable to help herself from clinging tightly to her. 'It'll be all right, Hermione. You'll see. You'll make friends at that school of yours...'

'I hope so,' Hermione said shakily. She reluctantly released Jane and kissed her mother's cheek. 'Bye, Mum.' She got up and stumbled from the room, and strode down the corridor, her arms crossed across her waist. She nodded a quick farewell to the director and slipped out of the front door. Hermione slid into the driver's seat of the car, folded her arms over the steering wheel and rested her forehead on them, weeping.