Walking Between Stones

Part 8 - Finding Hope

'Harry...Harry...'

Floating on the edge of consciousness is such a beautiful collection of words, if you really think about it. It's peaceful and blissful, and all other manner of calm inducing synonyms. People who drag themselves back to reality from this nirvana do not do it willingly, I can attest to that myself. It's a feeling akin to that of being born; dragged kicking and screaming from warmth, the safety of your cocoon falling away and the sudden shock of remembering that you have a physical body that hurts and feels pain comes rushing back. As well as a mind full of memories that also hurt and cause pain.

'...Harry...'

I am almost there. The lights behind closed eyelids are beginning to stir and brighten. Sound is returning; voices, a strange whirring noise, the squeak of shoes. The smell of disinfectant causes my nose to wrinkle. And the pain is there as well, to welcome me back - taunting me, criticizing me for being stupid and weak.

'Wake up, Harry.'

Like so many other times in my life, I greatly resent the sound of my own name.

I shift slightly on my hospital bed - yes, I know those sounds and smells well - and begin the lengthy process of opening my eyes. The first face I see is that of my doctor.

'Welcome back, Mr Potter,' he says with a smile.

I blink slowly and somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder why he is smiling in a situation like this. Does he always smile when his patients attempt suicide? Or maybe that's it - he smiles when they only get so far as the attempt.

'Hi,' I answer wryly, only my voice is hoarse and strained.

He sits on the white plastic chair at my bedside, drawing it close. 'How are you feeling?'

'Not too bad, considering.' I glance around for my glasses, wanting to see the world in focus.

'Glad to hear it.' He follows my wandering gaze. 'Is there something you're looking for, Harry?'

'Glasses.'

He smiles again and pulls the familiar black frames from his lab coat.

'Thanks.' I slip them into place, and then take them off once more under the pretense of cleaning them on the edge of the bed sheet, trying to put off the inevitable.

'Are you going to tell me about it?' he asks, watching me.

Shit.

'Tell you about what?' I reply, still rubbing the stiff cloth over the lenses of my glasses, cleaning them of imaginary dust.

He levels me with a look.

I sigh. 'What do you want to know? I'm sure you can guess why I did it, moreover, I'm pretty damn sure that you know how I did it. Maybe you could answer me a few questions.'

'Alright,' he replies calmly, nodding his graying head. 'What do you wish to know?'

Satisfied with managing to steer the conversation in a new direction, I settle my glasses back onto my nose and clasp my hands over my stomach, which feels bruised and sore to the touch.

'Am I going to be okay?'

'That depends.'

'On what?'

'You.'

I push down a wave of annoyance. I hate these rubbish doctor answers, the ones that twist your words around and answer every question with a question.

'I'm not going to try to off myself again, if that's what you mean.'

The good doctor sits back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. 'Glad to hear it.'

I fidget under his gaze, dropping my eyes from his. 'Where's Draco?' I ask, wanting to change the subject.

'I thought you wanted to know about your health.'

'So tell me,' I snap. 'Without all the added psychologist shite.'

He smiles again and I almost - almost - roll my eyes with exasperation. In moments like these, I find that in a lot of ways my doctor is very much like a certain - somewhat barmy - old headmaster of mine.

'You are going to be just fine. You can go home today, once you feel up to it.'

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. I had thought that there would be at least some damage from all that medication and alcohol that I ingested.

'What did you do to me?' I ask, curiously.

'Your friend, did you say his name was Draco?' I nod. 'He brought you here. Myself and a very capable team of doctors pumped your stomach of all the dangerous toxins.'

'It feels sore.' I touch my stomach tentatively overtop of the thin hospital sheet.

'Yes, that will last for a couple of days. I must also advise against any heavy lifting or exercise for the next week or so.'

I nod, knowing full well that I never exercise anymore anyway.

'Would you like me to fetch your friend now? He has already agreed to stay and help you home later.'

'He did?' That doesn't sound like the Malfoy I know, he hates hospitals, especially Muggle ones. 'Yes, please - send him in.'

'Alright, Harry.' He stands with another benign smile and walks noiselessly from the room.

I sit up and adjust the pillows behind my back.

As I sit in wait for Draco, I try to remember what happened right after I telephoned him. Frowning, I recall hearing his voice, and then I remember asking him to help me...then nothing. I don't even remember hearing an ambulance's siren, or the ride to the hospital.

Draco's probably irritated that I called him in the first place, I should probably tell him that I am perfectly capable of making it home on my own, no need for him to hang about on my behalf.

'Potter, why is it that every time we meet you always look like shit?'

I find myself smiling as I look towards the door. Draco is standing there; cool and elegant in this sterile world void of colour.

Like the red of the roses in my dream.

'Only compared with you, Draco,' I return laconically.

He smirks and walks into the room, glancing about as he does, taking in the whirring machinery and the I.V inserted into the back of my hand. He grimaces slightly at the sight.

I swallow and put my other hand overtop to hide the needle. 'Before you say anything, I just wanted to thank you for helping me. I didn't know who else to call.'

He shrugs and remains standing, crossing his arms over his chest uncomfortably.

'You don't have to stay, Draco,' I continue, watching him. 'I'll be fine getting home on my own.'

His eyes search my face for a moment before he forces himself to sit in the hard plastic chair at my bedside. I can smell fresh cigarette smoke on him.

'I told them that I would take you home,' he says, jerking his head toward the open doorway where various members of the medical staff are walking past.

'I know, and thank you, but you really don't have to. I feel fine.'

He sighs and absently strokes a hand over his chin. His normally beautiful ivory skin looks sickly under the fluorescent lighting of the hospital. His whole appearance looks washed out and tired.

'You aren't fine, Harry,' he finally announces, closing his eyes as he speaks. 'I'm waiting here until you're ready to leave and then I'm taking you home.' Draco opens his eyes and lifts them to my face once more. His tone of voice is stern, leaving no room for refusal.

'Fine, if you like,' I answer stiffly.

Draco stands and walks to the window on the right side of my bed. His back is to me, but I still pick up on the tenseness of his shoulders, catch the telltale sign of running his hand through his hair, which always indicates when he is nervous or upset; two emotions not generally observed in this man.

I sit and wait for him to speak.

'Harry, why-' The pensive blond stops and shakes his head. 'I suppose I don't need to ask that question, do I?'

He sighs. 'But I feel I must.' He turns to face me. 'Why Harry? Why would you do such a thing?'

I frown at him, almost glaring. 'I would've thought that that was blatantly obvious,' I respond peevishly.

Draco looks annoyed. 'Christ, Harry, you live through all that you have, only to try to kill yourself over this?'

'This?' I snap irritably. 'This happens to be a big deal. Come back once you have AIDS and then we'll talk. You won't be able to act so nonchalant then.'

'I'm not saying that having AIDS isn't a big deal, although, to be completely truthful, you don't really have AIDS, Harry - you're HIV positive. There's a difference.'

My eyes flare with rage. 'Thank you, doctor,' I reply bitingly. 'I didn't know that.'

'When did you become so acrimonious, Potter?'

'When I was handed a death sentence on a silver platter, Malfoy,' I respond, equally as cool. 'Did you ever stop to think that maybe I'm angry because I've lived through so much only to be stopped by something I have no control over?'

Draco opens his mouth then closes it. He begins to pace in agitation, fingers combing through his fine hair every once and awhile.

After a few minutes of this, I sigh, suddenly feeling like a petulant child. 'Why don't you sit down, Draco?' I suggest apologetically. 'I didn't mean to be so...cranky.'

He stops and smiles a little, deciding to take me up on my offer. 'I didn't mean to offend you, Harry,' he explains as he seats himself beside me once more. 'I just wish that you would stop talking about yourself as if you are about to die tomorrow.'

'I could,' I reply, facetiously.

'But you're not,' he says firmly, grey eyes boring into mine.

'I know. I'm not that deluded.' I smile reassuringly, then add, 'But one day...'

'Yes, one day you will die, just like me, just like the rest of the human race. But very far off in the future.'

'Now who's being delusional?'

Draco frowns. 'People with HIV and AIDS can still live long and full lives.'

I can't help but smile. 'Been reading up on it, have we?'

Draco finally breaks into a reluctant grin. 'I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since you told me that day. I must admit, I really didn't know too much about it at the time. I think I've now read every article and book known to man on the subject.'

'I'm flattered.' I laugh in amusement.

Draco shrugs. 'I always like to be well informed of everything. You caught me off-guard that day and I didn't like it. You scared me, Harry,' he admits honestly. 'I knew what you had told me was not good, but I didn't know the particulars of what you were up against.'

I nod in understanding. 'It's like being up against Voldemort again, isn't it? We're not really sure of the capabilities of our enemy, or even when he will eventually strike.'

'Exactly.' Draco nods in agreement. 'Only now, I know that this particular foe can be held off by the simple act of taking care of yourself and of allowing others to help you, as well as allowing yourself to live life to the fullest.'

'Please don't become one of those preachers of life and purity, I don't think I could stand it,' I moan, thinking of Ryan the do-gooder.

'Fuck, no,' Draco exclaims, offended. 'It's your job to act the saint, Potter. I'm just the messenger.'

I'm still laughing as a nurse enters the room and walks to my side with a smile.

'How are you feeling, Mr Potter?' she asks brightly, checking the IV line.

I glance at Draco. 'Much better.'

'Excellent.' She gives me a wide smile then carefully pulls the tape from the back of my hand and draws out the needle.

Draco averts his gaze as I smile at him in amusement. He always hated needles. Killing and torturing people he can do, but ask him to watch a needle being inserted and he squirms.

'I just need you to sign some papers and then you're free to leave, Mr Potter,' she informs me, placing a small, round Elastoplast on the miniscule incision on my skin.

'Thanks.' I smile after her.

'I think she likes you, Harry,' Draco informs me seriously.

I roll my eyes. 'Shut-up. Now, could you please leave the room while I take off this ridiculous paper gown and get dressed?'

'I think I should help you.'

'Get out!' I reach over and smack him on the arm.

'Alright, alright.' Draco backs away, smirking. 'I just thought I would be helpful, but if you're going to react so violently...'

'Just go!" I exclaim in exasperation.

I shake my head in amusement as he turns and exits the room, careful to close the door securely behind him.

The trip back to my flat was a silent one, Draco's silver cabriolet gliding effortlessly through the heavy city traffic. I lead him inside my neglected flat, toss my keys onto the table, and sink into one of the well-worn chairs in the lounge.

I watch as Draco surveys his surroundings with obvious distaste, apparently unwilling to sit on my furniture, as he remains standing in the middle of the room. I would be insulted if it wasn't the truth.

'What happened to all your money?' He asks. 'I refuse to believe that you inhabit this...place of your own volition.'

'So sorry to offend you.' I chuckle. 'But, alas, this is where I have been living while my vast fortune is locked away, collecting dust in Gringotts.'

Draco raises an elegant brow, clearly wondering how someone can speak so casually of wasted money.

'I am thinking of moving, though,' I add thoughtfully, picking at a loose thread on my jumper. 'This flat, while serving its purpose for a few years, now holds some rather unpleasant memories.'

'I think that's a good idea, Harry.' Draco agrees, eyeing my settee and trying to decide whether or not to actually sit upon it.

I roll my eyes skyward. 'Oh, for Merlin's sake, Draco! Just sit down already, it's not diseased.'

I notice him stiffen at my words. I probably shouldn't have used the word 'diseased.'

'I didn't mean to-' he starts contritely.

'No, don't.' I look up at him and smile dismissively. 'I didn't mean it like that either. I know you're just apprehensive about my cleaning ability, rather than...well, catching something from my possessions.'

Draco smiles in relief and finally ventures to sit down, perhaps merely to prove the honesty of his words.

'Where are you looking to move?'

'I'm not really sure, yet.' I shrug, my eyes drifting to my phone, which is still laying on the floor of the kitchen. Yes, I definitely need a change of scenery. If only to forget. 'I've moved so many times now, that it just isn't all that exciting anymore.'

'Why do it then?' Draco questions. 'Other than this time, what other reason did you have?'

'There were various reasons,' I answer vaguely. 'My job, people, the past...there were many variables to my choices.'

'I don't mean to sound self-absorbed, but was I a variable?'

'You could say that, yes, but-'

Draco holds up a hand to stem my explanation. 'You don't have to explain, I understand completely. I was there, too, remember?' he adds quietly.

I hold his gaze for a moment, then drop my eyes. 'It was for the best, Dray.'

Draco leans forward in his seat. 'I agree, we were messed up back then, but what about now? Now that the past is in the past.'

'Draco...' I say sadly.

'Just hear me out, Harry,' he says in earnest. 'Alright?'

I nod my acquiescence.

He takes a deep breath and clasps his hands together over his knees. 'When we got together after the war, it was a mistake, I know that now. We both rushed into things, and I knew deep down that you weren't ready yet, but at twenty years old I was willing to overlook that. I wanted you too much to think about the possible consequences. I refused to believe that I was just some rebound for you, and even if you didn't mean to see me that way, I ultimately was. It was neither of us our fault, we were young and naïve. Wouldn't you agree?'

'Yes,' I say weakly, memories I've long since buried rising to the surface and taking hold.

'Wouldn't you also agree that between the petty squabbles and fights, we had a good time? There were moments then that I wished would never end.'

'And other times you wanted to strangle me,' I add, a weak attempt at levity.

'Yes, that idea did pass through my mind every time your hands were around my own neck.' He smiles wryly.

'What makes you think anything has changed?' I venture, the question bittersweet on my tongue.

'What's different is that you and I have both put a lot time and space between us for the last nine years. We've grown.'

'We've changed as well, Draco. What makes you think you want us back in that same position again?'

'Because it won't be the same this time. Learn from your mistakes, right?'

'Yes, as well as learn to accept it when a relationship just isn't meant to be.'

'Harry.' Draco sighs and shifts closer, his knee brushing mine. 'If you're not in a relationship right now, then why not give it a chance?'

'It's not just that, Draco.' I move my knee away. 'There are so many other things to consider here, like how you're still a part of the wizarding world and I'm not. You have a big important business to run and I'm unemployed. I'm positive and you're not.'

'All trivial.' Draco brushes off instantly.

'Draco,' I try again in exasperation. 'The so called "good parts" of our previous relationship will no longer be the same. It won't even be a possibility.'

Draco smirks confidently. 'If you're talking about sex, then I beg to differ. Shagging is most definitely a possibility. The only difference is that we'll always have to use a condom.'

'Did you read up on that as well?' I can't help but laugh. 'Are you even listening to yourself, Draco? This is ridiculous.'

'Why?' he asks seriously.

'Because...because...'

He smiles and leans back, looking very sure of himself - as usual. 'You can't think of a reason because there isn't one.'

There is one. It's there, buried deep down in the pit of my insecurities. Another one of those niggling doubts about how my life may never return to normal - or as normal as my life has ever been at the height of my existence.

'Harry?' Draco notices my distraction. 'What is it?'

'I hate to be a downer, and I'm not saying this to be melodramatic, but...you have to understand that my sex drive is currently at zero. What if it never comes back?'

I can feel that prickle once again in my eyes, trying to force it's way out, but I absolutely refuse to cry. I won't.

I take a steadying breath and continue. 'Even the thought of having sex right now is unappealing and...it almost makes me cringe.'

Draco moves as if to reach for my hand then stops. 'That's not a good enough reason, Harry,' he says gently. 'You'll have to try harder than that to get rid of me.'

I shake my head mutely, staring down at the floor. 'I'm not lying.'

'I didn't mean to insinuate that you were.'

I raise my eyes to his face once more. 'Why are you pushing this issue? Why now?'

'It's not because you're positive,' he says before the question can even pass through my lips. 'I thought about you a lot, Harry, during those nine years. I always wondered what you were up to, where you were living, who you were dating, what you were eating.' He chuckles a little. 'I always felt bad about how things ended between us, I knew why they did, and there was nothing we could have done to stop it, but I still felt as if things were left unsaid that shouldn't have been. But with you off cavorting about in the muggle world, leaving us wizards high and dry about your whereabouts, I didn't even know where to begin to look for you. Then when you called me out of the blue on you birthday, I hoped...'

'That I was calling to-'

'Precisely.'

'And instead, I inform you that I'm-'

'Right.'

I exhale heavily and close my eyes, leaning my head back against the thinly padded backing of my old chair.

'You don't have to decide right now,' Draco says, watching me.

'Why were you so cold with me when we met?' I ask, eyes still closed.

Draco's brow creases as he frowns. 'When?'

'At the Guinea Grill, on my birthday. You didn't act like someone who missed me all that much.'

I open my eyes and turn my head slightly to look at him.

He actually looks embarrassed as he averts regretful grey eyes. 'Sorry about that. I was a little...bitter, I guess you could say. You were the one to finally end our relationship, then you disappeared without another word, and as soon as I heard your voice, it all just came flooding back. I was so sure you wanted to meet with me to get back together, that I was daft enough to want to...well, punish you, for lack of a better word.'

'You were unusually snarky.' I smile in remembrance. 'I just thought that you had gotten worse with age.'

Draco lifts his head to smile back at me.

I turn my head in surprise as the doorbell suddenly chimes from the front room.

'Who could that be?' I wonder, getting to my feet.

Draco stands and catches my arm before I can walk away.

'Harry, I called someone to tell them that you were in the hospital.'

'Who?' I turn away curiously and try to peer around the corner towards the door.

'I'm going to leave now,' Draco continues, ignoring my query. 'Please think about what I've said, and you can ring me at any time. I'll leave the number for my mobile in case I'm not at home.'

'Draco, you don't have to go...' I say, returning my gaze to his face, only a hairsbreadth away.

He smiles and releases my arm. 'Yes, I do. You have a nice visit and I'll talk to you soon.'

I follow him as he walks towards the front door. He turns and gently touches a finger to my cheek.

'Goodbye, Harry. Take care of yourself. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call.'

My cheek tingles with the tender caress of his finger.

I find myself leaning forward a little. I want him to kiss me. I want to be reminded of how it feels to have someone touch their lips to mine, the warmth, the pleasure, that swelling of the heart. I want to feel. I want him to make me feel.

I'm tired of the same myriad of emotions that I have been stuck in for so long. I don't want to feel pain and sorrow, or self-pity, or depression, or anything that pushes me to the dangerous state of mind that I was in earlier today.

I've been cold for so long, I've forgotten what it feels like to stand in the warmth of the sun.

My eyes flutter closed as that wonderful warmth comes ever closer, answering my silent plea.

I jump when there is a loud knocking on the door behind us.

Draco reluctantly takes a step away from me. 'Goodbye, Harry.'

'Bye,' I say, feeling disappointed. I watch as he turns and opens the door.

'You have horrible timing, Granger.'

Hermione?

My eyes widen as the one and only Hermione Granger impatiently pushes Draco aside and searches the dark entryway for something. Her eyes light on me and her face breaks into a large smile.

My arms are suddenly full of female exuberance as she throws herself at me. I laugh and my eyes sting a little as I hold on tightly.

Over her shoulder, I watch as Draco walks towards his car. He turns and raises a brow in silent question.

I smile reassuringly and mouth - 'thank you.'

He nods in relief and waves as he climbs into his car.

I close the door, ready to focus on an old friend that I haven't seen in years. Ready for the questions and accusations and guilt inducing conversation that she most certainly has in store for me.

And I find I'm actually looking forward to it.