Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Oh, how I wish I did, but I would torture his character more then Rowling ever does! And considering, that's very evil...
Moving on!
A/N Thank you to all who read Forgotten Emotion and to all who decided to continue with the Universe by reading this . I thank Choryni for beta-ing the story as well . This is a small update compared to what I usually like to spit out, but my imagination runs low sometimes! But we all know an annoyed Harry is a cute harry, "Awwwww"!
Pairings: One-sided HP/DM, DM/ZB
"Mr. Potter, please stop trying to speak!" Madame Pomfrey said frustratingly.
The healer's comment was made because Harry had yet again squeaked his way into a sentence, and managed to speak in a high-pitched squawking not unlike a seagull's screech.
"But I-," Harry protested in his seagull-voice. If Harry had not been bed ridden for almost a month and a half now, he'd be laughing at himself for the way he sounded. But since that was the case, even managing a sentence with his screeching voice made him feel proud.
"Mr. Potter, do not stress your vocal chords. There is a reason they do not work perfectly, and that is because I almost had to regenerate half of you throat from scratch. Be happy you're able to sit up, sleep, and wake up regularly now," she chastised him.
Harry was happy he was able to move enough to sit up when Hermione and Ron came to visit him. But that ability did not come without pain.
Nevertheless, Harry grinned and took the pain for all it was worth, vowing he would stand it at least until Hermione and Ron left.
After an hour of enjoyment his friends were shooed out of the infirmary by Madame Pomfrey. When they were out of Harry's sight he lay back down on the bed, feeling a bit grumpy.
I hate this bed, Madame Pomfrey. I want to get out of it... Please just one day of walking? I don't care if my legs break from it. I want to go outside! I feel like I'm in a fucking cage…
Madame Pomfrey stood above him as he lay pathetically on the bed and was challenging him with her eyes.
He knew from the look on her face that his wish wasn't going to be granted.
Harry also knew that while his body was almost perfectly docile, his eyes were giving off a stubborn glare.
The healer noticed it and responded, "Mr. Potter, let yourself heal. Facing Voldemort took a lot out of you. Or do I have to remind you of that?"
Harry shook his head slowly, not daring to speak.
Madame Pomfrey appeared satisfied with him. "Good, now rest some more, Potter. Please." Madame Pomfrey said.
The healer then took her leave, heading for her office away from the hospital beds and left Harry to his thoughts.
Harry stared up at the ceiling, tracing patterns through the stones with his eyes. He was bored, and now understood how people went insane.
In fact, He was surprised he had retained his mind through healing.
He couldn't shift his body and he was stiff lying on top of the bed. The covers annoyed him and he wanted to push them off. He felt like a broken robot, honestly.
But that was to be expected when half your throat is torn open from a renegade spell.
Voldemort had done the worst to him, as he had done to Voldemort. Except, Voldemort had died. Killing Voldemort hadn't been as satisfying as Harry had thought it would be, but there had been a small victory cheer inside of him as he watched the other wizard fall to the scorched ground.
Harry couldn't remember most of that battle, other then the blur of it. Voldemort was the only clear image he had of that night. Killing off the last of Voldemort's soul was what Harry had done but he'd lost an untold amount of time for completing that 'prophecy'.
Harry counted up the total of his wounds again, for what was probably his only source of entertainment before going to sleep once more.
Throat torn open, muscles destroyed, and terrible amounts of blood lost. The worst had been the spell that clamped down on his lungs and refused to let him breathe for five minutes. He didn't know who put that one on him but it had happened while he fell into unconsciousness after killing Voldemort.
Harry sighed, something he could do without feeling pain, and attempted to move his slowly mending muscles. Every time he made a movement with his legs or arms, his muscles would ache with stiffness. He was being a bit reckless trying to stand up at this moment in his recovery, but he couldn't bear lying in bed anymore.
Harry managed to sit up and dangle his feet over the side of the bed. Staring out at the door of the Hospital wing he decided to try standing. Even if he fell onto his butt it would be worth two seconds of shaky victory
Harry got up onto his legs for all about twenty milliseconds before he fell back onto the bed. He covered his mouth so the nurse wouldn't hear his cry of pain. Nothing broken so--
"Potter what the hell are you doing?" a surprised male said, interrupting his thoughts.
Harry lifted his head up, to see Malfoy standing by the entry door in between the rows of beds. Harry shook his head. He didn't want to even attempt to speak now, or he'd get teased for the rest of his life. He could count on it.
Malfoy would use his state of weakness to make sure Harry never lived it down. Harry could bet his entire Gringotts vault on it.
"Oh come on Potter. You should be able to speak by now!" Malfoy exclaimed. Harry could only glare at Malfoy while shaking his head.
"You're kidding me!"
No Malfoy I'm not. I cannot talk, well not really. And I'm not about to embarrass myself in front of you! So please get that nasty looking cut fixed up and leave me to cry myself to sleep because I'm SO tired of this place.
Harry could tell Malfoy had come here to get the cut on his arm healed because blood was starting to seep through a crudely made bandage.
A moment of silence laid out between the two before Malfoy spoke again, much to Harry's distress, or so he thought.
"Well, Potter."
Oh here it comes…
"It seems like you could use a hand. Would you like me to help you stand up?"
Harry stared at Malfoy with wide eyes. The last thing he had ever thought Malfoy would do was offer him help. Harry thought maybe he really had died. He opened his mouth to say "What!" but all that he managed was an undignified squawk.
Malfoy returned to his old self and laughed, but there wasn't an insulting tone to his manner as he walked up to Harry and offered out his hand.
"Come on, Potter, grab my hand. We'll get you up."
Harry stared at the hand before taking it and letting Malfoy pull him to his feet. He felt very... extremely... no, he felt so absurdly awkward being held up by Malfoy that he suspected he HAD died.
Malfoy was letting Harry basically grab on his arm, and it more or less looked like Harry was desperately hugging him. As if he was some stupid girl clinging onto Malfoy because he was the love of his life.
Ha! Like THAT would ever happen. Me like Malfoy in anyway? Not bloody likely! Harry though and tried to point that he wanted to be put back down on the bed. He was embarrassed and no longer wanted to stand like this. Freedom wasn't going to come at this price today!
"Oh, come on, Potter. We both know you want to walk around a bit. Let me help you take a few steps before you start freaking out." Malfoy said.
Harry stared at him ludicrously. What is wrong with Malfoy? Was my sanity kept because he sacrificed his for me? Yes that's got to be it, or else Malfoy is under some sort of spell.
Harry nodded his head, and Malfoy slowly walked one, two, three steps with Harry. Harry was very stiff and slow as he lifted one leg up and the other down. He was working very hard to control his legs and he wanted to do this right. The fourth step was going more smoothly when Madame Pomfrey returned and screamed in an angered fright.
"MALFOY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH POTTER?"
The scream stopped all movement from Harry and Malfoy and they stood still to look guiltily at the medi-witch. The healer gave Harry one evil glare before snapping, "Potter, get back to your bed now or you will never leave it!"
Harry grumbled in his head with a few choice words. But outside, he was silent.
"Actually, Malfoy carry Potter to his bed. He should not even be trying to walk right now." Madame Pomfrey ordered, stressing Malfoy's surname to get her point across that she didn't care about objections.
Harry wanted to object as Malfoy hooked a hand under his legs and picked him up like a bride on her wedding night.
'I feel like--a complete--idiot!' he screamed inside his head.
Malfoy seemed to read his mind. "Potter, she's really angry so please, just let me carry you to the bed without using that ridiculous squeaking you call your voice." Malfoy whispered.
Harry sent him a wise glare but Malfoy chose to ignore it. He set Harry down on the bed in a straight line and turned to meet the wrath of Madame Pomfrey.
She didn't disappoint him. "Oh, for Merlin's bear, Malfoy! I need to heal your arm too? Do you boys have any common sense?" she asked with exasperation.
Must not, Harry commented in his mind.
"Malfoy, come with me, and Potter, get rest. I mean it!" The nurse growled out menacingly.
Harry gave them both a glare, but Malfoy only smiled at Harry reassuringly. When the medi-witch's back was turned Malfoy mouthed, "Good luck walking when you can."
Harry stared at him like he was Ron's worst nightmare, a tarantula.
Malfoy deserves to take a trip to the loony bin. And I deserve to get out of this goddamn room! he complained in his mind.
Then the room was empty, and he was alone again.
OKay, now you may review if you so wish to do! Oh and just as a reminder, criticism is always accepted but if it's presented rudely, I'm saying this right now, don't bother posting the criticism until you can be polite about pointing out mistakes. It gets your point across and is received well, so please make the effort to be respectful if not of the story, of the author. If you cannot be mature about this reminder, do not comment on it:P
Okay now to thank my lovely reviewers! crazyfrog, I glow in the dark36, chaeli.mee., QuestofDreams. And another Thank You to all who read and came back to read it again.