Not Just an Empty Emotion

Chapter 19-Weaker

Sure enough within a week Harry was able to sit up in bed, the gash across his chest had, at last, begun to heal, and Madam Pomfrey was calling his recovery "Quite remarkable." Hermione, Ginny and Swan were still visiting daily, and Malfoy-who was astounded that Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore had asked no questions about why he was visiting Harry in the middle of the night- was being smuggled in with Swan as often as possible.

Of course this meant that Harry and Malfoy were not alone. This wasn't a problem at first- Harry had spent most of his time asleep or in a half-wakeful state- however, now he had the strength to talk he desperately wanted to speak to Malfoy.

"Please, Madam Pomfrey! I'm loads better, I even ate my breakfast this morning-and I kept it down-!"

"Absolutely not, Potter. You are still unwell! There is absolutely no way I would consider the possibility of letting you out-even for a few minutes. You are far too weak to do that; one does not recover from injuries as serious as that in a matter of days! It takes weeks, Potter!"

"When can I leave then?"

"When you're ready."

"But when-?"

"Oh, for goodness sake, Potter! I will get you out of here as soon as I can, for both our sakes, believe me! I'm hoping to have you out of here for Tuesday, will that do you?"

"Suppose," he grunted. Tuesday was five days away-how could he wait that long?

"Hey Harry, what's up?"

He turned, and saw Ginny and Hermione walking through the Hospital Wing doors.

"I'm not allowed out until at least next Tuesday! I don't see why I'm fine I..." he continued ranting. The girls looked at each other and smiled; Harry was well on the road to recovery.

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Sure enough, and despite Harry's miserable predictions that time would stop and Tuesday would never come, the days crawled slowly by and eventually Tuesday arrived. Harry waited nervously for Madam Pomfrey's verdict as she examined him.

"OK, Potter, I think you're safe to go." She pointed at his main injury. "That will be tender for a while, and don't you dare mess with those dressings. You need to take it easy, no Quidditch practice-yes Potter, I know you have a Quidditch match in two weeks, you might well be able to play then but I'm making you no promises- and don't stress yourself out too much. You need to come back here after class every evening, so I can check up on you, OK?"

"Yes, can I go now?"

She looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "I suppose so."

He attempted to jump out of bed, but succeeded only in causing himself great pain. Madam Pomfrey just tutted and retreated back into her office, muttering under her breath.

He made his way down to the Gryffindor Common room. The corridors were cold and quite dark, and were devoid of students who were relaxing in their common rooms after Dinner. He reached the portrait hole.

"Password?" said the Fat Lady in a bored tone.

"Broom Handle," he said wearily.

The Fat Lady just blinked at him serenely.

"Broom Handle!" Harry said impatiently. "Why won't you let me in I'm giving you the password I-" Then he realised. "You've changed it!" he said angrily. The Fat Lady still smiled. "What is it?"

"Harry! Harry!" he turned and saw Ginny running towards him. "I went up to see if you were still there, Madam Pomfrey said you were gone! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, 'course," he said, smiling. "Calm down, it's not that exciting."

Ginny flung her arms around his neck.

"Oww...Ginny...be careful..."

"Oh God, I'm sorry, Harry! Dragon Pox," she added, and the Fat Lady opened. He climbed up into the room. Not many people noticed his arrival, because someone had just given Neville a Canary Cream, for which he was grateful. Hermione saw him, and stood up swiftly, leaving Ron, who she had been talking to, to glower at them. She gave him a gentle hug.

"Come and sit down, Harry, how are you? Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," he said. It wasn't quite the truth. "But I...I just want to go to bed. And I don't think Ron would be very happy..." he smiled at them, turned, and finally was able to climb the staircase up into his dormitory. He undressed and lay down on his bed. He tried to sleep but it was no good. Whatever position he lay in he was not comfortable. Every time he did fall asleep he was awoken, either by the pain in his chest or one of the other Gryffindor sixth years coming up to bed.

Eventually, at about midnight, he grew bored of trying to sleep. He wasn't tired anyway, all he had been doing since he had woken in the Hospital Wing was rack his brains constantly to try and work out what it was that Malfoy had said to him...it was driving him mad.

He stood up carefully and went down the stairs into the, mercifully deserted, Common Room. He sat in the armchair by the still blazing fire and stared into its heart. He remembered the times Sirius' head had appeared there...he willed it to appear again, but it was no good. All that happened was a shadowy memory of Harry's made him think it was there.

Since he had returned to Hogwarts he had been too preoccupied to think much about the dangers Voldemort was posing to the world, and his grief at losing Sirius wasn't constantly on his mind. He had thought it was beginning to heal. But now, as he thought of his Godfather he felt the sadness, as raw as it had been on the day he had lost Sirius, well up inside him again. He felt as though, if he could just see him he would feel better, Sirius would make it alright-he always had done. But that would never happen again. His cheeks were wet with tears suddenly, but he did nothing to stop them. When he had been able to talk to Sirius he had felt safe, he had felt he could handle things...but not anymore...He was facing things he never thought he would have to face...and now, more than ever, he needed the advice of his Godfather. If he had spoken to Sirius about his relationship with Malfoy he knew Sirius would have given him a straight answer. He was still feeling guilty about it...and if Sirius had told him it was OK, then Harry knew, it would be...And Sirius could make him feel better about Voldemort....

It's not fair, Harry thought, why is he gone? I need him! He had no right to leave me like that!

His thoughts turned to Voldemort. He hadn't given the prophecy much thought either since the summer. He had told himself there was no point worrying about it...and besides he'd had more urgent things to worry about. But he didn't want to be a murderer. Hadn't he stopped Lupin and Sirius killing Wormtail because he knew his dad wouldn't want them to be murderers? Well, now James' own son was facing the unavoidable prospect of becoming a murderer...he, Harry, would be a criminal...why did it have to be him? Why couldn't someone else have got this enormous challenge facing them? What did Harry have that no one else did that made him the unlucky one?

Of course, there was always the possibility that he wouldn't become a killer...because he would be killed...he hadn't truly understood what that had meant before now. But he had nearly been killed...his fifth encounter with Voldemort was his most serious yet and this time he really had faced death. He couldn't remember much about it except that he was constantly cold, occasionally he would feel as though a breeze were whipping past him, and that with the terrible pain he felt, he was also aware of an odd peacefulness...he had been tempted to give in and to fall further into Death, to find out what was beyond it, but just as he had resolved to let go of life he had felt Malfoy next to him...heard some of his words, though he didn't know what they were...felt his lips...

His face was now drenched in tears, but he didn't care. The feelings of hating himself, and not wanting to be Harry Potter any more were overwhelming, and suddenly he wished he had fallen into Death.

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"Mr Weasley, stop whatever you're doing and sit down, for goodness sake!" Professor McGonagall snapped.

Ron, who had been standing at the front of the classroom looking for a spare seat threw a dirty glance at McGonagall and sat down with a very ugly look on his face next to Hermione. Harry was on her other side.

"Back are you?" Ron said viciously.

"Looks like it."

"Over the Dragon Pox, then? Not left any scars on your precious face?"

"What?"

"Ron, shut up!" Hermione hissed.

"No.... let him have his say," said Harry furiously, bracing himself.

Ron laughed meanly. "Forget it."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. Any idea that Harry had had of Ron mellowing whilst Harry was ill were dispelled. Hermione had told him about Ron's stubbornness in refusing to listen, but still Harry had managed to convince himself that Ron might just have had some sympathy for him. Obviously not.

They went through the rest of Transfiguration without Ron acknowledging, even once, that Harry was present. The rest of the day followed suit. Ron didn't take Potions any more, but if Harry had thought he was in for a break here, he could forget it because, what with both the Slytherins and Snape there to make snide comments, it was just as bad as ever. However, Potions did bring Harry and Malfoy together in the same room. Harry carefully avoided Malfoy's eye, though it was difficult to restrain himself. Instead he contented himself with scribbling a short note on his parchment.

Malfoy,

I need to see you. Meet me in Firenze's classroom at 8 o'clock tonight.

H xxx

He placed his wand-tip onto the parchment, drew a box around the words with it, then tapped it and said "Harpus!" The words he had written dissolved into the page. He looked over at Malfoy who was staring at his own parchment, which had suddenly glowed blue. Harry was sure he saw Malfoy direct a small, sexy smile his way.

The bell rang, signalling the end of the lesson, and Harry put his things into his bag gratefully.

"Do you want me to come to the Hospital Wing with you?" Hermione asked.

"No, I'll be OK. You go back to the Common room. I'll see you at Dinner." He headed towards the door and joined the mass of students desperate to escape the classroom. He ran upstairs as fast as he could; he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible- as far as he was concerned he'd seen enough of the Hospital Wing to last him a very long while. Madam Pomfrey looked up from treating a first year Hufflepuff's broken arm when he stormed into the Wing.

"Ah, Potter. Sit down, I won't be a minute."

He flung himself onto the nearest bed impatiently, causing pain to shoot through his body as he did so. He cursed himself silently.

"Right, let's take a look at this dressing..." Madam Pomfrey bustled over to the bed. She made Harry take his tee shirt off. He was uncomfortably aware of the first year looking at him with great interest. Madam Pomfrey saw his face and waved her wand; a screen of what looked like shimmering water surrounded Harry's bed, distorting everything outside.

"Ow!" He yelled, as Madam Pomfrey lifted one of his many bandages up.

"Yes, I think we can leave that until tomorrow...now, I want you to drink this-" she waved her wand and a goblet of blue liquid appeared on his bedside table "-this-" this time she produced a steaming goblet of crimson liquid "-and this-" a goblet with what looked like crushed ice appeared.

Harry frowned at her but took up the first goblet and drained it. It tasted of fish. Undeterred he took up the next goblet, which tasted more like stinking mud. He retched a little as he swallowed the thick liquid, and inwardly prayed that the final goblet would taste better. He screwed up his eyes as he put it to his lips...it tasted pleasantly like mint.

Oh well, he thought as he left, at least I'll have fresh breath when I see M-

"Harry! I thought I'd find you here. How are you?"

He turned and saw Swan striding towards him. "I'm fine," he said, almost truthfully. "Why were you looking for me?"

"Well...it's...er...come here, I don't want anybody else hearing this, you know before Christmas, we discussed the spell which would give us access to the connection between yourself, Draco and Voldemort? Well, Albus-I mean, the Headmaster and I feel that after recent events we really must perform is as soon as we possibly can. Are you still OK with it?"
Harry nodded. "Of course. When are you going to do it?"

"Tomorrow, I'm going to have to se it up tonight. Can you come to my office, about 6 o'clock tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Do you need Malfoy there, too?"

"No, there's no need for Draco to be present. For the spell to work it only requires one of the involved. I've got to dash, Harry, I need to speak to Albus- er, the Headmaster. See you tomorrow!"

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Harry checked his watch again. 7.45. At last, he thought.

"Er...Hermione...I'm going out for a bit, OK?"

"Oh...OK...where?"
He raised his eyebrows. "I'm going to meet someone."

"Wha- Ohhh!" Her face cleared suddenly. "Good luck."

"See you later."

He left the common room without looking back, beginning to feel nervous about seeing Malfoy again. He walked slowly, pondering what he would say, his heart beating painfully hard. What do you say to someone who saved your life?

To make things worse he still couldn't remember what it was that Malfoy had said to him before he had woken up; the words were blurred and messed up inside his head, and fading fast.

He began to panic as he descended the marble staircase; what if Malfoy didn't turn up? What if he had changed his mind? What if he didn't want to be with Harry any more?

Finally he reached Classroom 11. With a shaking hand he opened the door and went in.

"Mafloy?" he called softly, shutting the door behind him. He waved his wand once and the stars brightened above him, lighting up the room. He couldn't tell if Malfoy was here or not; the trees were far too thick. "Malfoy, are you here?" He walked cautiously between the trees, straining his eyes for any sign of life.

He looked at his watch again-it was gone 8 o'clock. Where the hell was Malfoy? Harry's nerves increased. He went back into the clearing at the front of the room and sank down onto a tree stump, his insides writhing.

Something scampered across the ground a few feet away, making Harry jump. Then something much bigger happened.

"Potter!" The door slammed behind him, and Harry whipped around to face Malfoy.

He felt weak when he saw him standing there, at the door, looking almost as nervous as Harry felt. "I... I...don't..."

Malfoy walked towards him and embraced him. Harry leant on him, glad for someone to support him. Malfoy felt strong and safe and warm...Harry didn't trust himself to speak- he was already gulping back sobs.

"You're shaking," said Malfoy softly. "Are you cold?"

"No," he replied, smiling weakly. "Not cold." Malfoy sat him back down on the stump and then sat on the floor.

"How are you?"

"I'm OK. How are you?"

"I've been better, but I've been worse, too. You're not OK. Tell me honestly."

"Honestly? You really want honesty? In that case I feel like utter crap. Ron isn't talking to me, still, I still don't exactly feel well, I still feel sick about...about that night...about what we saw...and I don't want to be me anymore. I just wish I could be someone else...anyone else."

"Jesus..." Malfoy whispered. "Why not? I like you the way you are."

"Because I don't like being Harry Potter. I want to be normal, like everybody else. I don't want to have had my future decided...I told you about the prophecy, didn't I? But I still can't believe this is happening to me. Why me?" He was pouring his heart out to Malfoy, who was listening in silence.

"Potter, you can't give up."

"Why not? Who says? I don't want this responsibility I never asked for it!"

"I know you didn't. But you're Harry Potter. You're stronger than that prophecy, and you're stronger than Voldemort."

Harry smiled reluctantly. "You think so?"

"Of course I do."

"I-I thought...maybe...you wouldn't want to know any more," the words tumbled out of his mouth as he forced himself to say it. "I thought it might have made you think twice..."

"If anything it should be you thinking twice. You should hate me," Malfoy's voice cracked, but he made himself go on. "I would never leave you like this. Whatever's happened in the past between us is gone-I don't care about that any more. All I want is for Voldemort to be gone and- and I want...you," he whispered, almost as though he were ashamed.

Harry stared at him astounded. "But...why?" he said at last.

"I don't know," said Malfoy seriously. "I must be mad..."

Harry laughed as he saw the grin spreading across Malfoy face, which he was failing to hide. He hadn't laughed for weeks, but it felt good.

Malfoy stood up again and took Harry's hand in his.

"I know it's going to be hard to do this but you can't live your life like you are now. You have to forget about the Prophecy. Don't think of it as murderer or victim. Whatever happens will happen, and we can't change it, and worrying about it will do nothing to help anything. We can't change when something happens. You'll face Voldemort again, and you can beat him-again. I want you to be happy Potter, you can't dwell on this all the time, it'll kill you, even if Voldemort doesn't. Promise me, you'll try not to do that? Please?"
Harry stood up. He knew it would be almost impossible to do what Malfoy was telling him, but at the same time knew it made sense. He'd just have to do his best. He nodded. "I promise."

He stood closer to Malfoy; he could feel his warm breath on his face. They looked into each other's eyes and it was as though an invisible force was drawing them together.

"Potter..." Malfoy muttered, his voice low and husky. Harry felt Malfoy's lips brush soflty against his own, sending shivers throughout his body.

Malfoy was holding Harry in his arms, embracing him fully...Harry slid his hand around the back of Malfoy's neck, feeling the soft skin...he entwined his fingers in the dark blond hair as Malfoy cupped Harry's face in his free hand...their lips met at last and something seemed to explode inside Harry's head; he was aware of only the two of them and the kiss...and at the same time something hit him with such force and power that he felt weaker than ever before-it was as though he had been hit by a train.

He remembered.

He broke apart the kiss and stared determinedly into Malfoy's eyes, his chest heaving.

"I love you, too..." he whispered.