Of Breath And Bone

Part II: This Waiting Game

If it was possible, the nightmares were worse than ever now.

He dreamt of that last night over and again. The sight of Hogwarts crumbling before their eyes, leaving nothing but the remnants of mortar and age-old brick in its wake blurred into the terror that had washed over him when the realisation that the only place that he had ever called home was gone while he hid away in the Forbidden Forest with his friends.

It was gone forever, and he had done nothing to prevent it.

Shortly afterwards, Remus had found them, and brought them into the small group of the survivors. There was no idea who all had died then, and the part of his mind that had the information shied away from it, preferring the ignorance. All they knew then was that it was their last stand, and it wasn't looking good for the light. They could easily lose that battle, and life under the reign of the Dark would become complete. They all would have given their lives to prevent it, and Harry realised then, it might not have been enough.

Remus.

The thought of the man who had been his old professor, his father's old friend, and his godfather's long-time lover, among other things, brought him awake to the all-too-familiar scenery of St. Mungo's. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he scraped his fingers through the unruly hair that was his father's legacy.

As much as he hated the nightmares, this waking up in the hospital was worse. Somehow, it was better than Muggle hospitals, yet they provided the same feeling, the same utter hopelessness reflected in their walls. There was no sterile whiteness here, but all he wanted to do was hide at the flat that he had been sharing with Hermione and Ron since...

Harry shook his head hard. The attack hit the week before they left Hogwarts, and they had already made the arrangements during that Christmas break, on Hermione's insistence. She didn't feel right going back to the Muggle world, and since her parents had died the summer of their fifth year, she had nothing to go back to. Harry couldn't believe she'd state it so matter-of-fact, but then, that was Hermione. Privately, Harry agreed with, and encouraged her. After all, the Muggle world had never truly had anything to offer him but pain. Besides that, he knew Ron would follow anywhere Hermione would go. It had been that way for years, and he couldn't see that changing at the time.

Now he didn't know. Now nobody knew what would happen. They had all lost so much, and while it would be easier to cling together in their grief, there was no guarantees that would happen. There were no guarantees on anything.

Part of him wanted to flee from the train of thought and ponder other things. For instance, what had they done for the Leaving Feast? There were some students who'd gotten away from the burning mass that was Hogwarts before the invasion had hit. He simply didn't know. Ever since the end of that final battle that had left, he had practically been living in the hospital, waiting for word on Remus and Sirius.

They had both been found unconscious near the dead bodies of most of the Death Eaters. Harry had thought they were dead, but Hermione had managed to keep her wits enough about her to check them. After she had discovered that they still lived, she and Harry had managed to get them to St. Mungo's, but there'd been no word since.

Harry growled low in his throat. It had been over a week, and there was no word. When did a person stop hoping that something would happen, that something would manage to bring loved ones back from wherever they had escaped to? Most importantly, when did one stop wondering exactly what had happened to cause the condition that they were currently in?

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked up as one of the mediwizards found him.

"I need a word."

At that moment, he could almost hear Remus in the voice of the wizard in front of him; that sounded so much like something that he would have said. On the heel of that thought was the almost-audible echo of Sirius' sarcastic wit, asking what word he would need with him, and ticking off a hundred possibilities for which word it could have been. He found himself unable to speak at that moment, so merely nodded and rose.

After he had followed the young wizard around a corner from where he sat, the man asked, "Mr. Potter, you asked to be notified when there was any change in either Mr. Lupin or Mr. Black's conditions?"

Harry cleared his throat, "Yes?"

"Well, there is something going on with Mr. Lupin that we cannot understand."

Harry took the chart from the wizard, which had the ever changing stats on Remus there for the mediwizards to keep track of. He frowned at them, and after several minutes, he managed to make out one of the readings that was marked as critical, and watched it with surprise for a long period of time.

"The lycanthropy reading..." Harry finally voiced in surprise.

"Yes. It's shifting as though he's being dosed with a continual Wolfsbane Potion."

"*Is* he being dosed as such?"

"No. We don't have any potion makers talented enough to make the potion on staff at the moment, but were willing to call in people if need be. The head of staff knows a few who can make it, but it's starting to appear as though it won't be needed."

"But why?" Harry asked. "Is there any spell, charm, or potion other than Wolfsbane that has been known to cause this effect?" Harry asked, grateful in that moment that he listened to Hermione every so often over the years.

"Not that we're aware of. We're keeping an eye on him in case something goes wrong."

Harry felt a fear rise the idea of something going wrong. If something went wrong, then it was possible that Remus could still die from this. Not only would he be without the man that he had grown to consider as a second father -- or third, if he counted the constant place Sirius had had in his life since fourth year -- but Sirius would be without his lifemate. If there was any hope for him waking, Remus dying would erase it as though it had never existed.

Neither Sirius or Remus had explained much about the bond they shared, but Harry was able to know what he did with some certainty, just from watching them together. Then again, most of his information about people came from watching events and tallying them against his own intuition. Hermione had commented with irritation once that that's the reason he was able to get out of so many situations relatively unscathed, while doing so well at school and Quidditch at the same time. She might have been irritated at him, but when he thought about it later, without the hindrance of his anger, there was some truth to it.

He looked into the eyes of the mediwizard, "What about Sirius?"

"We don't know what's wrong with Mr. Black, or when he will awaken, Mr. Potter. I'm sorry."

"As am I," Harry told him, turning away as his voice broke as though we was an adolescent again.

Adolescent. Most people at that age just worry about body hair, the spurt of magical ability, hormones, and voice changes. By the time he was an adolescent, Harry had to worry about being killed by the Dark Lord, or the rest of the magical world depending upon him to save them before Voldemort rose again. Then there was the time during his late adolescence when he thought that the second- in-command to Voldemort was after him to kill him like he had killed his father.

Only to find that what the magical community had believed for some thirteen years had been a lie. Only to find his godfather. Sirius.

He turned to the mediwizard again, "Has his condition stabilized any?"

"Yes. He appears to just be unconscious."

"Then... then, may I sit with him?"

The wizard smiled and shrugged, "I don't see why not."

Harry sagged in relief and strode past him into the room. Sirius Black looked as though he were just asleep on the bed, he first thought, then shook his head. Never in life was Sirius that still. Not even Remus saw him that way, he had once told him. He had always been in motion, so full of life, and of everything he had to give, even while he was asleep. Now, locked in wherever he had fled deep within his own unconsciousness, he was totally still.

At that moment, he looked dead.

Harry brushed the fringe from Sirius' forehead and sighed, "Dad, Remus, I know I promised I'd take as good care of him as he did me, but there are some times when it's beyond my control. Will you accept that now is one of the times when it is?"

He brushed a light kiss across Sirius' forehead and sat down to watch over him. All he could do now was to sit and wait, so that's exactly what he did. At some point, he dozed off, and he wasn't aware that he had done so until the light sound of the door opening brought him sharply back to wakefulness, and he was on his feet with wand in hand before he had done more than think. The woman standing in the doorway looked startled, but she stood her ground and waited for him to relax.

"Harry, it's just me."

He sagged in relief, rubbing his hands over his eyes. "Gods, Hermione, don't *do* that!"

"I forgot that you'd have the trigger reflexes," Hermione said with an apologetic twist of the lips. She turned and closed the door behind her, leaning against it and watching him for a moment. "I think we all still do, but it's easy to forget. I haven't been able to relax since it happened."

It. Harry frowned slightly. They didn't even want to think about what happened, or talk about it, so it was being relegated to the back of the mind only to be relived in nightmares over and again. In studying Hermione's expression, he could tell that she hadn't been sleeping any better than he had.

"How's Ron?"

Hermione bowed her head, hiding behind the sheet of hair that fell across her face. Even though she didn't answer him in words yet, he knew the answer. Ron had lost nearly his entire family in one blow, and wasn't dealing with it well, if at all. Then she looked straight at him, and the look on her face surprised Harry. He shook his head at her, "You can't grieve *for* him, Hermione, as much as you'd like to."

"Who says I am?"

"The look on your face says enough. That he's not grieving, that he's bottling it up and allowing it to destroy him. You've got your own grief to deal with," he crossed the room to her and shook her shoulders. "I know you've shouldered your burdens when it comes to Ron for years now, and took some of his own, too. It's not good for you, and I really wish you'd stop."

She tried to look away from his intense gaze, and he heard her mutter, "I think I need coffee."

"Then let's go get some coffee and talk about this."

"I would have thought that you'd want to stay and watch out for Sirius."

"He can take care of himself," Harry said with a wry smile, "and besides, it doesn't look like he's going to miss our presence any time soon, does it?"

"No..." she admitted with a small laugh. Harry blinked for a moment. It was nice to hear, but seemed so unfamiliar. He moved to open the door, and she stepped away from it, following him out. Harry took one last look over his godfather's unconscious form before closing the door behind them. He wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist and guided her toward the hospital's waiting room.

"Best be careful," she said lightly.

Harry removed his hand, and grinned at her, "Jealous boyfriend who doesn't like when other people touch his girl?"

Hermione gave him the first genuine smile he'd seen in weeks and pretended to look shocked, "How'd you know?!"

They sat down at one of the tables and fixed themselves some coffee. It was empty, thank Merlin, and perfect for talking. Harry stretched his legs and groaned, "I've known how jealous Ron gets where you're concerned since the Yule ball fourth year. There were probably other occasions, but that was the first time I really paid any attention to it."

"That was the first time he was really obvious about it," Hermione admitted as she sipped at the bitter liquid. "I feel like I've been in a waking nightmare over the past two weeks. It's hard to think about the fact that if we go back to the Burrow -- when we go back to the Burrow -- there won't be anyone there to welcome us. I try to imagine it quiet, silent, and I can't. There was always something going on."

Harry thought about that and let out a sigh, "I can't remember it being quiet, either, or anything less than chaotic, but you know, that's what I loved about it. Partially, anyway. It was the only place I knew that felt like home."

"I know Sirius and Remus offered..." Hermione started.

"I didn't feel right. They had been apart so long, and besides, I didn't want to know what they were doing with each other."

Hermione snorted faintly, "I can't say I would, either."

The moment of levity passed and they sat there with their own thoughts. Harry shook his head, as he tried to think about all the Weasleys that had died. Percy and Arthur had died trying to defend the Ministry when they had discovered that it had been compromised; Percy might have been annoying, but he was as honourable as the rest of them. Bill and Charlie had died in the battle at the school, as had Fred. It was said that Ginny had been able to get out of the school in time, and George was down the hall from Remus.

"I'm not sure I really want to go back to the Burrow," Hermione said, jolting Harry out of his thoughts. "I don't want to see what they did to it, and I don't want the Dark Mark to still be hovering in the air above it."

Harry bowed his head slightly, and sighed, "Now Hermione... about Ron..."

"Yes?"

"What really is going on with him?"

"He's been sitting with George, hoping there was any chance he'd regain consciousness. He seems numb, almost as though he pointed his wand at his head and chanted a spell to lock away all the grief that he's not feeling..." Hermione trailed off.

Harry looked up with the oddest of ideas in his mind. He looked at her and muttered, "Give it back to him, Hermione."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know you, Hermione. You're smart, and you'd spare Ron any pain that you could. It's too much for you. It's like I told you, you have your own grief -- give it back to him."

"Well, he's not feeling it!"

"He can't feel it if you're doing it for him!"

They locked eyes in anger, but Hermione was the first to back down. She sighed softly, "Okay, Harry, I'll give it back to him. I need to help him. I can't watch him destroy himself over this."

"Help him by being there for him."

He sat back and watched as Hermione pulled out her wand, pointed it at her own head, and muttered an incantation that seemed to take her five minutes to say. Harry looked at her, and she shrugged, "It won't go back all at once, but gradually. I found the spell one day during sixth year when I was trying to study and found myself distracted, and tucked it away. I thought it might come in handy one day very soon."

"And it did. Under any other circumstances, I might not have stopped you, but you're my friend as much as Ron is, and I don't want to see you hurt either."

She paused and looked at him, "Harry, you really should be a mediwizard. It suits you."

Harry looked at her in surprise, then grinned, "It certainly would be the last thing anyone would expect from me now."

"Definitely. They'd think you'd go back to Hogwarts and teach Defense Against the Dark Arts or something, or play Quidditch for the national team, or even become an Auror."

"It would be nice not to live up to everyone's expectations of me for a change."

"Give it some thought."

"I'll do that. So, what are *you* going to do, Hermione?"

"About Ron or about the future?"

"Yes."

"I'll be there for Ron as much as I can, but I'm going to need to lean, too."

"I'll be there for you when you do. What about the future?"

"I don't know, just yet. I'll give myself over the summer to decide. Maybe I'll become an Auror. Maybe I'll teach. I don't know yet. Everything's too up in the air right now."

"Still going to keep that flat?"

"You and Ron would kill me if I didn't, after all we went through to get it!"

Harry looked at her solemnly for a moment, "I'm glad. I think we're all going to need some safe space now. It'll take a long time to stop living on the razor edge."

"And what's ever been safer than the three of us together?"

"Remember when we thought we could do anything?"

"Yes," Hermione said, then reached across the table to him. "You know, Harry, with a little time and space from this, I think we still can."

Harry looked at her for a moment, then for some odd reason, he believed her. They sat in silence for a while, sipping on their coffee, and lost in their own thoughts. Harry was jolted out of the contemplation of what was going on with Remus by the scrape of the chair legs against the floor. He looked up to see Hermione rising.

"I need to go. Ron needs me, I think."

"What? Did that spell create a bond between you two?"

"You could say that," she commented mysteriously. "You could also say that the bond was already there, and the spell just strengthened it."

Harry just smiled, and watched her leave.

After a moment, though, he rose and started making his way back toward Sirius' room, to see if there was any improvement in his godfather's case, and grumbled to himself that he was starting to know St. Mungo's about as well as he knew Hogwarts. Then he turned a corner, and stopped where he stood. As he leaned against the wall and although he felt as though he were intruding, watched the scene before him. Hermione stood there in the hallway, holding Ron and murmuring what appeared to be comforting words against his hair. Ron was clinging to her as though she were his last lifeline. In that, maybe she was.

Apparently, she felt his eyes resting upon them, because her head shot up and her eyes met his. There was an expression on her face that asked, pleaded for privacy for this, and he could do nothing more than grant her request. He turned away, and headed for Sirius' room, thinking about all that had happened that afternoon. It definitely had been one for revelations.

When he entered the room, his heart leapt into his throat even as his body froze upon having a pair of pale eyes rest upon him. He closed the door behind him and strode to the bed when he could move again.

He stood there for just a moment before asking, "Sirius?"

"Hello, Harry," the voice spoke in a tired tone barely above a whisper before a sarcastic grin faintly appeared on his face. "Been waiting long?"