In the Midst of the Night

In the Midst of the Night

Chapter 15 - Shadowed Dreams

His heart was pounding painfully in his chest and his sobs were making it even harder to breath. He somehow couldn't find the way out of this blasted manor and it frightened him more than anything that he might even be lost. This was his home for Merlin's sakes! It was a place that Draco could always find comfort! His parents were here - his father as well...but now Draco didn't think that he could ever look the man in the eye again after what happened only a few hours ago. He didn't think that things would ever be the same again.

He had been escorted to his room and told to stay put until someone fetched him later that morning for breakfast. He had been told to sleep as well - and he had done neither. Unbeknownst to anyone, he had taken a bag from his bureau and stuffed whatever would fit in it - his thoughts were too much a jumbled mess to think about what it was he'd need. Even now, Draco wasn't sure where he was going and what he would do once he got there. All he knew was that he had to leave...

If only he knew how to leave the manor!

After what seemed like hours of pointless wandering, Draco slid to the floor against a wall and brought his knees to his chest, burying his face on the arms he placed upon them. He couldn't control his sobs anymore, despite how much he tried to, and for some reason he didn't quite care if his father saw him in such an ungracious state.

Why would father do that? Why would he hurt all those people? And he hurt me! He'd never do anything so awful as that! He's - he's - he's Father!

And that's when the images began to pass through his vision. He saw the nasty smiles upon the dark shapes' faces, or what he assumed to be their faces. He saw the awful image of Harry being held under his father's painful curse. He saw the blood dripping down the side of his friend's mouth and couldn't hold back a shudder. Would Harry be all right? And what about his friend's father? Derrick Bane hurt him really badly...

That was when Draco heard the footsteps approaching from down the hallway. He didn't look up for the familiar patter he used to adore as he waited for his father to come in and say goodnight...but now, for some strange reason, a feeling of tension was building in his stomach and he hated it. The footsteps stopped and he felt the shadow of his father looming over him. Only then did he glance up and only then did his eyes widen as he met the icy cold expression.

This was the second time in one day that Lucius Malfoy had turned that cool look upon his own son. Draco sniffed and suddenly found himself drawn upwards by his collar. He stood, his toes barely touching the ground as he kept his eyes downcast and averted from his father's cold gaze.

"What are you doing, Draco?" wondered Lucius softly, his voice even, but Draco could just barely hear the rage boiling underneath his tone.

Draco took a moment to control his silent sobbing and tried to free himself from his father's grip. He found that, despite his father's slim stature, he was built with taught muscle and Draco couldn't pry away the fingers that held so tightly to the collar of his robes. Thus, he spoke with his breathing constricted more than it already had been. "I - I wanted to go to the P'fessor's and -," but he cut himself off when a hard 'THWAP' resounded in his mind and his ears.

A moment later, he could feel the burning sting of a handprint upon his cheek and let go of his father's hand to touch the sore area in shock. When he met his father's gaze, the man was regarding him with smoldering eyes. "Professor," Lucius repeated quietly. Draco merely stared at his father with undisguised horror and earned himself another hard 'THWAP' before he quickly tried to imitate the word. After only one more 'THWAP', he finally was able to say 'Professor' correctly, but a new wave of tears were burning hot trails down his already wet cheeks - one of them searing with pain and red from the contact of his father's hand against it.

He just couldn't understand it - in one day, his whole world seemed to be crashing down upon him. His father hit him! He had never in his life been hit by his parents! And definitely not his father! Father was his idol, the person that Draco looked up to most in his life! He had been the man that Draco could go to for anything, that Draco could go to if he wanted something - and now this...

Just then, he was dropped and forced against the wall with his father's hand pushing against his neck. Draco coughed in fright and tried prying the man's fingers off his throat, but to no avail. "Father - Father," he cried piteously, but Lucius paid his pleads no heed.

"Must I repeat myself, Draco?" questioned Lucius with the deliberation of one who has all the time in the world.

Draco tried his best to swallow down his fear and said in a wavering voice, "I wanted to - to see the P'f," 'THWACK', "Pro - Professor. I wanted to see if H-Harry was all right, acause -" he stopped suddenly when his father raised his hand again and said quickly instead, "be-because he wouldn't wake - wake up." When he finished, he was crying uncontrollably and couldn't stop no matter how hard his father looked at him. Why was his father so angry at him? What had he done wrong? Father never got angry enough to hit him - not ever!

Finally, he was released and he scampered away, using his sleeve to wipe away all traces of his crying. His ears were ringing from the force of his father's slaps and his knees felt weak from the shock of all that had happened.

"Go to your room, you will have no dinner tonight. You -"

"But - but Father," protested Draco and when his father swung at him, he rushed away in fear, stumbling onto a messy heap upon the floor.

Lucius went on as if there had been no interruption. "You will not leave your room until fetched and you will make no sound. I will be holding a meeting in the dining hall and if you disturb us in any way, you will be punished. Do you understand, Draco?" When his father returned the harsh cool gaze back onto him, he stiffened and pushed himself back onto his feet. This man wasn't his father - he was nothing like him...Draco didn't know who he was, but he knew that he hated him as much as he hated Derrick Bane.

The boy stared up at Lucius Malfoy with wide eyes, but within their depths they held the icy coldness of defiance. "Yes, Father," he said with his chin held high and his voice clipped and precise, "I understand."

...

After Lucius had a house elf escort Draco to his room, he turned and went down to the living room to see his wife lounging gracefully upon the couch reading a novel.

"I've been thinking about your motives, recently," she said softly without looking at him; her voice just as elegant as it had been so many years ago. "And," continued Narcissa, "I still cannot understand what drove you to raise a hand to our son."

Lucius regarded her past shields of grey ice before saying contemplatively, "You were down the hall..."

"I may have been."

He cleared his throat and raised a brow. "You have never questioned me on how I've raised our son before," he murmured.

She finally glanced up from her book to look at him coolly. "I never had reason to," she replied. There was a long period of silence and she placed a bookmark to mark her page before setting it gracefully aside with the smallest of sighs. "He may have made a wrong decision last night, but I don't believe that that is reason enough for striking him. He is a boy, Lucius, and boys make mistakes."

"That isn't the point," he told her and though his voice was quiet, it held a strong tone of anger.

"Then what is, I wonder?" she asked back, a perfectly curved brow rising in askance.

"Draco is a Malfoy and he will act like it. He will honor and respect me as his father as is expected by the public and what he did last night was in contradiction of that very thing. You know all this, Narcissa, it isn't your place to question me," said Lucius with forced patience.

Her eyes narrowed. "He will no longer 'honor and respect' you as you wish if you push him too far, Lucius."

He stood up and brushed his robes off, ready to leave. "Then he will fear me instead - I care not, for the consequences will be the same," he responded curtly, before turning on his heel and leaving the room to meet his colleagues in the dining hall.

~*~

Remus had been asleep when he heard a series of very loud and very angry barks nearby. His bed was bouncing slightly and when he blinked his eyes open, he was just in time to see a large black streak spring off his bed and out the doorway. Surprised, he pushed off his covers and wobbled to his feet. He was feeling particularly weak, but his best friend had just bounded out the door as if Peter Pettigrew was nearby. Perhaps he was, but Remus highly doubted it. Therefore, he staggered towards the doorway to make sure that the way was safe.

It wasn't.

Hr. Pearson just happened to be walking by with Sylvia chattering inanely beside him. Remus tried to quickly make a dash down the hallway after where he believed Padfoot went. Barks resounded down the hallway hinting where his friend had run off to.

"Mr. Lupin!" exclaimed Sylvia and Hr. Pearson stared on in the same surprise that Remus heard in the volunteer's voice.

He paused against a wall and smiled feebly at the duo speedily approaching. He gave them a mock salute before pushing off the wall and continuing down the hall with faltering steps.

"Mr. Lupin - Mr. Lupin, you must get back to bed or you will never get better!" said Hr. Pearson anxiously.

I feel too much like a damned old fogie to think I'll ever get better anyway...he thought wryly. Aloud he said instead, "My dog has run away, I need to chase after him."

The barking was loud now and continuous - just one more door. When he reached the doorway, Sylvia stood on one side and Hr. Pearson on his other. Both were looking at him irritably, but their irritability was caused only because of concern. They supported him on both sides but he struggled half-heartedly, fighting to get to the bedside beside Padfoot.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, and then turned to his captors as they began to drag him away. "Unhand me this instant! I know that boy! He - he's my best friend's son!" yelled Remus and kicked Hr. Pearson on the shin which resulted in both his restrainers complying with his demand. He used the wall for support and managed to run right into the back of his best friend's worst enemy. "Severus!" exclaimed Remus in surprise.

The potions master didn't glance backwards but watched as the Healer attending to Harry ordered the orderlies, telling them what was needed and what everyone needed to do. One orderly looked at the dog, the man in the black robes, and the patient who was fighting off Sylvia and Hr. Pearson.

"Out," said the orderly sternly, "all of you!"

But Severus trained his coolest scowl at her. - It didn't work though.

She merely glared back and forcefully pushed him away. "If you care anything about your son, you will do as I say," she said shrilly and Severus was too surprised by her words than anything to protest as he was pushed out of the room. Remus, meanwhile, was being wrestled into the hallway by Hr. Pearson and Sylvia was tugging on Padfoot's collar, still in place from the day Remus had been fitting it.

"Let go!" Remus was shouting boisterously. "This is quite unfair!" He saw Padfoot being smothered by a very passionate Sylvia and turned his tirade upon her. "Don't touch my dog you - you witch! He doesn't like you! Let go of him!"

Shocked and indignant at being scolded and told off by the usually docile Mr. Lupin, she let go and watched quite numbly as Padfoot bounded towards Remus. The dog snapped his jaws at Hr. Pearson and barked at Remus as if trying to say something, all at once. The moment Hr. Pearson's grip on Remus' arms left, said werewolf ended up falling flat on his arse with only a surprised cry to hint that anything had happened at all.

He leaned against the wall and scowled at Hr. Pearson. The poor man rubbed his eyes. "Would you like me to help you now, Mr. Lupin?" he wondered patiently, and Remus frowned as he looked up at Severus.

The man rolled his obsidian black eyes and held out a hand to his former classmate. Once standing, Remus laid a gentle hand on Padfoot's head, calming him. "What is Harry doing here, Severus?" wondered the werewolf, his voice soft with urgency and anxiety. There was a long pause and after the tension built up to its peak, Padfoot barked loudly and made as if to attack Severus. Remus held him by the collar. "S-Snuffles, enough," he said, and Sirius, with his sensitive hearing, heard the fatigue that laced his best friend's words.

After waiting for a few more minutes to pass, Remus had soon given up on eliciting an answer from the man so filled with anger before him. "Albus believes that the combination of the Cruciatus Curse placed upon...Potter and the manifestation of his powers was too much for his body to handle." He paused again, turning a cold expression towards the door that barred them all from the little boy they all, whether each of them admitted it or not, loved him. "I believe that the Healers are now trying to stabilize his condition," said Severus evenly, but there was a sinister aura about him that contradicted his indifferent tone.

With that, the potions master turned and stalked away.

Remus blinked owlishly at his departing figure, and then started down the hall back towards the room. Once he was lying on his bed again, he relaxed against the pillows with a tired sigh. Hr. Pearson shot a look at Sylvia who was ready to open her mouth to speak and she snapped it closed with a snap. Remus looked at the Healer and at the volunteer for a moment before saying softly, "Perhaps - if it's all right of course - could you - mm - maybe tell me what - if -," but Hr. Pearson silenced him with a smile and a raise of his hand.

"Of course, Mr. Lupin," replied the man and Remus was glad that he had such a passive healer in care of him.

When they left, Sirius closed the door and locked it adding the necessary silencing charm with his stolen wand. They sat there, staring at one another, and Remus wondered to himself if his friend had noticed the deathly pallor of the young boy called Harry Potter.

~*~

Dream Sequence...

As Harry fell deeper and deeper into the black abyss of darkness, he saw many things. Some of it reflected the nightmares he had on some occasions, and others were echoes of memories that he didn't remember.

At first, he saw flashes of green light everywhere, and somehow they only seemed to make the black pit darker. He would hear the cackling laughter of the scary man and the screams of the people he had to watch get hurt. A few of those times he even felt the same excruciating pain and coughed up more of that crimson liquid that frightened him. He saw scary wooden sticks flying angrily at him and the flying scissors from Madam Malkin's' shop. Soon, the looming figure of Mr. McKinnon sneered at him with sadistic pleasure, a rolled up belt visible in his hand. He suddenly felt a grasp wrap around him and had the feeling of being dropped into a bucket of ice. The perfection of the smile upon the young man's face before him made Harry shiver with evident unease. Harry tried to scramble away, but he was still falling.

That was when the darkness began to fade and white light seeped into his vision. The warmth that it entailed made Harry reach out for it and smile as he saw flying snitches. He caught one in his hand and looked at it in wonder.

"Silly - you lost your broom!" said a voice nearby, and Harry whirled around to see...nothing. There was a merry laugh. "Up here, Harry!" Harry looked up and grinned as he caught sight of Draco's smiling face. "What're you doing here?"

"I - I don't know," replied Harry with a cute childish frown.

Draco rolled his eyes dramatically. "You don't know? How can you not know?" He too frowned and cocked his head to the side in askance. "How come you din't wake up when I was trying to wake you up?"

"I - I don't know," said the other boy again. "Draco, where are we?"

At this, Draco laughed and shrugged. "I was rather hoping you would know, acause I certtingly don't!" And that was when the young child blinked and whirled around, slipping off his broom in surprise. "Father? What are you doing here?" Harry squinted past his friend and pushed his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose, but still he could see nothing. "No! No - don't. I - I'm coming," said Draco hurriedly, raising a hand as if to ward off a blow. Harry heard a series of 'THWAPS' during which Draco's figure faded a bit and wavered.

"Draco?" inquired Harry softly, his voice taught with panic and anxiety.

The platinum blonde headed boy shot a tense look at Harry before letting go of the snitch he held. "All right, I - I'll be right after you," he said quickly, and then turned to Harry with a lop-sided grin that seemed awfully forced. "Well, there goes another of the P'fes - Professor's snitches - I do hope he won't be angry...you'll tell him I had to let it go, won't you, Harry? Please don't let him be angry at me - Father made me let it go and he won't let me go after it. Please?" Harry nodded quickly, trying to dispel the very un-Draco-like frightened tone his friend was speaking in. "Thank you - I - I won't see you soon, but don't forget me, Harry! Promise!"

"I promise."

"Do you swear?" wondered Draco anxiously. "Acause, I mean, because - because you might think it's me, but I'll - I'll be joking I s'p - suppose, you un'er - understand?" At Harry's nod, Draco repeated, "Do you swear?"

"I swear," was the solemn reply.

Don't forget me...

Then Harry blinked owlishly as his friend began to fade and before he could cry out in surprise, Draco's faded figure became sharp again. In his place was a young man that he didn't really remember, but figured that he was friendly by the large mischievous smile he wore upon his face. He wore a roughed up looking leather jacket that was as black as his hair and onyx colored eyes. This man seemed to be in his late teens, but held himself up with confidence and self-assurance. Beside him was the largest bicycle that Harry had ever seen.

"Is - is that yours?" questioned Harry tentatively

The young man smiled and pushed a stray lock of black hair from his face in one smooth movement. "Yes indeed!" was the jolly reply. "It's new - I bought it with my allowance. Buggering old fools that I call my parents didn't allow me to get one so I got it anyway! You like it?"

Harry smiled back and stepped closer to look at it. Once his inspection, which was very seriously and nervously observed by the young man, was over, he nodded once and stomped his foot decisively. "It's the best bicycle that ever was," he proclaimed and the raven-haired man laughed merrily.

"It's called a motorcycle," he said lovingly, running a hand over the seat as if wiping off imaginary dust. He turned back to Harry curiously. "Sorry there, mate, I don't think I caught your name."

When Harry didn't catch a slight sense of suspicion or ill will from the man, he told him, "My name's Harry."

"Great name, that," said the man. "My name's Sirius Black - Sirius after a star, you know."

"Really?" replied Harry. "A real star?"

"That's right, old boy! A real one - up in the night sky with the rest of the best of them!" said the man called Sirius black with a bright grin. He placed a gentle and reassuring hand upon Harry's shoulder. "I don't suppose you know after what animal the star is named, do you?" Harry shook his head slowly, entranced by the story-telling tone Sirius spoke in. "It's the dog star," he said secretively.

Harry blinked at him. "There's a dog star?"

That earned him another laugh. "Indeed, little Harry! It's called Sirius didn't you know?" He laughed again and ruffled Harry's hair affectionately. "Harry - you know, that's a good name - almost as good as 'Sirius'." Harry looked at him blankly for a moment before he laughed. Sirius smiled triumphantly. "Yes, sir! And look, the name fits me, don't you think?"

And that was when the man called Sirius Black turned into a very large, very black dog. Harry jumped in surprise. Then he too began to fade and Harry watched him go with an expression akin to longing that elicited a jolly bark.

"Don't forget me, little Pronglet!" said Sirius as he faded away, his grin apparent in his voice. "I'll see you again!" And Harry nodded, waving as the young man drifted away into nothingness.

For a long while, he sat alone amidst plain whiteness. It was the strangest thing, but he looked around, waiting until someone would take him away from here. The person he saw next made him jump up with fright and try to scurry away.

The young man before him smiled sadly. "You don't have to be afraid of me," he said softly, remorsefully. "I'm not here to hurt you."

So Harry looked at him carefully and noted that where perfect sapphire blue eyes should have been gazing at him, sympathetic and shadowed obsidian black eyes rivaling the color of Sirius' looked at him rather curiously instead. "Who - who are you?" wondered Harry, taking a hesitant step forward in a rare display of bravery.

In response of his gesture, the young man's smile became a little less sad and a little more merry. "Jonas - my last name's Bane but I don't like to think about that," was the sheepish reply.

"You - you have a brother? Who has your face?" Harry asked him, moving closer still and looking up at the man he now knew as Jonas.

Jonas grinned at the boy's choice of words. "Indeed, but I rather like the way I wear my face better, don't you?"

Harry looked at him carefully before saying, "Yes - I don't like perfect very much - your brother, er, Derrick Bane? He's - he's not too nice."

The man laughed and knelt down so that Harry didn't have to crane his neck to see him. "No, he's not, is he?"

"No." There was a pause. "I - I think that you should switch places."

Jonas looked at him contemplatively. "Your wording is rather ironic."

"I - iron...really?" Jonas laughed. "Well, it's just that he did really bad things and I wish that you were there astead of him."

"Me too," said Jonas softly, "me too." And then he turned his head sideways, as if listening to something only he could hear. "Yes, Mistress, I will be with you in a moment." When he turned back to Harry, his face was taught with tension. "I doubt I will see you again, Harry."

Harry didn't ask him how he knew his name, for at the moment, he didn't really care. "Why not?" he exclaimed in horror.

Jonas smiled, but it was rather strained. "Because Derrick beat me...but don't worry -"

"No! No, no, no! He can't beat you! He's perfect at everything! He can't beat you too! It's not fair!" cried Harry, and he launched himself at Jonas, hugging the young man tight around his neck. It was strange being in such friendly contact with a stranger and Jonas seemed just as he was for he stiffened before relaxing into the tight yet desperate embrace.

"I would have said that I hope you don't learn that life isn't fair too quickly, young Harry Potter, but I suspect you've learned that too well already." Harry sniffed and took a step back as Jonas' figure faded. "I trust in you, Harry - I trust in you..."

Then he too was gone.

He quickly wiped away his tears when a familiar curt voice said, "Why are you crying this time, Potter?" Harry whipped his head around to see the memorable billowing black robes that were worn by one Severus Snape.

Harry grinned and sniffed and wiped away the left over tears as he ran over to the man, burying his face in the man's robes. "Because - because - I don't know."

Severus looked down at the boy hugging his waist with that indifferent expression, but when Harry peered up at him with another smile, he saw the corners of the potions master's lips quirking up into a smile. "Well." There was a long yet rather comfortable pause between the two of them before Severus said softly, gently, "Somehow, you will save them." Harry looked at him in surprise at the cryptic words and took a step back. "Don't ask me how, but they all say you will." Severus scowled and crossed his arms across his chest. "For some reason it was you who became the Dark Lord's downfall, and now it will be you who will save them." He threw his hands up into the air in obvious exasperation. "Don't ask me why either - you're just a small child yet they say you'll save them all!"

"Save - save who?"

"Oh," said Severus, waving his hand absently, "them. Those people you saw."

"You too?"

The potions master glanced down at the little boy with too bright eyes and too messy hair and felt his heart constrict inside him. "Not me, Potter," he snapped, but he knew that Harry could sense that damned undertone of warmth in his voice. "I don't need to be saved - I'm unsalvageable."

"Un - unsalad - able? Un..."

"Don't hurt yourself, child," Severus told him in a tired tone. "I won't be saved, that's all."

"Why not? Doesn't everybody need to be saved by someone?" questioned Harry curiously, and it was funny how the words seemed to come from somebody else, inside of him.

"No," said Severus in a clipped voice, "I'm leaving now."

Harry saw the man stiffen and look to the side. Probably the absent somebody talking to him too...thought Harry.

"No, Albus - I'm leaving now, not when 'it's time'," Severus growled angrily. "I am leaving now." He turned abruptly and walked away - or tried to, but Harry giggled as the potions professor seemed to walk in place. Upon hearing the child's laughter, he turned around and saw that he hadn't moved. "God damn it all!"

"God damn it all!" repeated Harry with another giggle.

"No - no, you will not say that ever again," warned Severus, wagging a finger at Harry. He turned and listened to the voice again. "No I am not corrupting the child! Sod it all, Albus! - and don't you dare repeat that, Harry Potter!" And that was when he finally began to fade away. "Thank Merlin!" exclaimed Severus, and then he turned to the boy that watched him go with wide green eyes and sighed as if in defeat. "You'll be all right - you have a lot of people watching over you. And don't forget - you have yet to save us all." He paused for a moment as if in conflict with himself before saying, "I believe in you...Harry."

And as his figure disappeared, Harry realized that Severus had said 'us', not 'them'...

End of Dream Sequence.

~*~

Luke stared at the half empty bottle and the full cup of ale before him. One more? He shook his head warily, staring at it suspiciously. Oh...you're not going to sucker me into drinking you, he thought at it guardedly. You're not fooling me this time!

Before he knew what was happening, his hand snaked out and his mouth was soon tingling with the cool and bitter taste of ale. "Blast!" he cursed out loud. He glowered at the bottle that seemed to leer tauntingly at him. "I know what you're up to, and you won't get me this time!"

He poured another cup full of the glimmering liquid and stared at it suspiciously. Before he let it get to him again, he wondered vaguely about the reason he was drinking so much. There was something about a horrible feeling inside him, and a terrible coldness that was utterly overwhelming.

The young man rubbed his eyes tiredly and blinked owlishly at the clock. How did it get so late so fast? Pushing the thought aside he tried to yet again shove away the memories from just last night.

Maybe he'd pay a visit to Skye at St. Mungo's and get his head checked - Merlin, and probably everyone else, knew that he needed it...

~*~

Severus scowled as he looked around his lab. He had prepared ingredients for the healing potions that Madam Pomfrey had written down on her list of 'Necessities', but now that he was ready to start brewing, he couldn't seem to think about what he next needed to do. It seemed to be just at the back of his mind, within reach, but his hands seemed numb and he could do nothing but stand there like a blasted idiot and look around his lab.

A bit of color that conflicted with the dark and shadowy colors of his basement caught his eye. With a defeated sigh, he walked over and picked the children's chapter book up and looked at it with distaste.

Marty the Magician was the title and Severus often found himself wanting to curse the blasted book into smithereens. It was about a boy who had come into his inheritance from a deceased great-uncle that left him a box. Within it was a supposedly 'magical' pendant that gave Magical Marty magical powers.

Muggles have no conception about what real magic is, he thought absently and flipped through the pages. He remembered when Harry - or rather - Potter had asked him to teach him to read better. The boy had learned a bit already, but he had trouble stringing longer words together and thus Severus spent a little of his time helping the child learn to. It had been a grueling process, but there was something about really little children that made that god-forsaken quilt that had latched onto his heart squeeze quite painfully. If the child noticed the expression of utter dislike during their tutoring sessions, he didn't show it. It was a fact that made Severus count to ten on numerous occasions.

After a while, however, the lessons had proven fruitful and the potions professor found himself studying his pupil during these times. The boy took to learning new things rather quickly, or so a very unwilling Severus admitted.

It was quite a laughable situation though, that Severus Snape - James Potter's most hated enemy - was teaching said Potter's son.

After thinking this, Severus felt that familiar twang in his chest and stuffed Marty the Magician into a rucksack along with Potente Potions. With his god-forsaken blasted mind made up, he stood up with a dark scowl and a very sinister air about him and made for the fire place...

...his intent St. Mungo's.

~*~

To say that Skye was surprised indeed would have been an understatement. She had been called from her flat, just a bit away from St. Mungo's, specifically by the highly acclaimed Sr. Healer Jemison Grant himself. Being a Jr. Healer herself, she had jumped at the call and arrived within the bounds of the wizarding hospital in less than three minutes and was dressed appropriately in Healer robes in even less than that.

To make matters even more astounding, when she walked into the ward she was to supervise and assist with Hr. Grant, she had been shocked to see the little form of Harry Potter lying on the bed, a boy she recognized from the picture on the daily prophet. Her insides did little loops inside of her as she looked at him for a moment and took in the deathly pallor and the harsh and labored breathing of the too tiny child.

But...

She peered closer at the boy and, if she looked closely enough, she could almost see rivulets of crimson red beading up on the boy's scar. Skye stumbled backwards when she saw a flash of emerald green light and could have sworn that Harry's eyes snapped open for a short minute, but when she looked again, his face was unchanged from how it had been one moment ago.

"But - but aren't his eyes green?" she wondered softly.

Hr. Grant, hearing her from his position next to the charmed charts nearby, said in a questioning voice, "Yes...why?"

She just shook her head in dismissal, but couldn't help but wonder if it was just her, or were his eyes, in that short moment when she thought she saw them open, the most beautiful color of sapphire stones...?