Chapter Text
It had all started as a small pain that he was easily able to ignore, the type of pain that you can acknowledge is there, but isn’t distracting enough to be worth any note. He had managed to ignore it for months, but by now, the pain was almost daily, he couldn’t continue to ignore it.
“Orion?” Harry fiddled nervously with his sleeves, barely able to look up at his older soulmate, one he had hardly had any time with since he had dropped, unceremoniously, into the past and found both of his soulmates.
“Hmm?” Was his distracted reply, this didn’t bode well for Harry asking for something as simple as Orion accompanying him to a healers appointment. Harry looked at Orion, trying to convey through looks alone how much he needed him, them in this moment.
“I made a healer's appointment for next Wednesday, I know Abraxas will be working then, and I’d really like it if you could accompany me.” Harry tried so hard not to fidget and squirm, he thought he had outgrown that habit when he was a child for Merlin’s sake! He forced himself to stand still, waiting with baited breath hoping against hope that Orion would do this one thing for him.
“Yes, yes, of course. Next Wednesday I’ll be able to go with you. Now, can you please leave and shut the door behind you? I need to reply to the guild's request for more information on a ward in an Egyptian tomb so they don’t get blown up.” Came Orion’s reply to his request.
Harry let out a soft huff of air, glad that he was at least coming and pushing down the twinge of pain that came from the curt answer and the request to leave, more than used to this.
He should have known not to get his hopes up too high, ever since he had appeared in the past, he had hoped. Hoped for a normal life, hoped for a family, hoped to just blend in with the crowd. Then he had found them, his soulmates and once again, he had hoped, desperately, for love and family. However, slowly, those hopes had been crushed underfoot, like the lily’s his aunt Petunia had crushed when he was 7 and had found them in the park. Both of his soulmates were already in an established relationship together.
He had wished, for a time, that they would accept him as they accepted each other, but it never happened. He was always on the fringes, never quite accepted and it hurt in ways he couldn’t describe. If he asked to spend time alone with one of them, the dates almost always got cut short because the other was waiting, several times he was just blown off, with vague promises of ‘later, Harry’ but later never came. Not for him anyway. But it was fine, he told himself. He couldn’t expect them to just… accept him into their lives as if it were nothing. He understood that they would always come first to each other. So he had relented, simply let himself fade away into the background, never asking, never complaining, never making a fuss.
In fact, if Harry was calculating correctly, this was the first time he had asked something of them for the first time in several months. He had grown up knowing he was nothing but a burden and a freak to his relatives, but he found himself staying here, cocooned in Grimmauld Place that was so saturated in his soulmate's magic. One was always moving and flitting around, always searching, the other, always intense but soft, like a warm hug. He was happy, even if he would never be included in the main relationship.
He was happy.
The next few days were torture for Harry, his mind coming up with all sorts of scenarios for the worsening pain he was constantly feeling now, along with the fatigue and loss of appetite. Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough for him.
On Tuesday night, he approached Orion again, to remind him of the appointment he had tomorrow, hoping the older man had remembered.
“Orion?” After a grunt of acknowledgement, he cleared his throat nervously “Are you still coming to the healers with me tomorrow?” Harry held his breath, carefully keeping his face neutral so he showed no sign of nervousness that he had forgotten.
Orion looked up at him and shrugged and almost instantly, Harry felt his stomach dropping.
“Turns out Abraxas has the day off tomorrow, so we’re going to Diagon Alley to have lunch with my mother, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Harry took a breath, trying to not show how much that statement had hurt. He needed them tomorrow, but again he was being… ignored in favor of the other. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised, he should have expected it truly.
“Oh… umm… okay. That—that’s fine. I’ll see you when you get back then yeah? Say hi to your mother for me.” He tried not to run to his room, really he did, but the moment he had rounded the corner he broke into a sprint and arrived at his own bedroom quickly and once stepping inside, closed and locked the door magically.
His hands were shaking and clammy, so he curled up on his bed clutching the duvet close to his chest when he heard a soft pop that signaled a house-elf had apparated into his bedroom.
“Kreacher thinks that little master is being needing tea. Yes, Kreacher does.” Despite his roiling emotions, Harry just had to smile. Who knew that he and Kreacher would get along so well this time around?
Harry flashed a small, grateful smile at him and accepted the tea the little elf had prepared exactly to his liking (3 sugar cubes and a dash of milk) and sipped it under the elf’s watchful gaze.
“Kreacher will be bringing good little master his dinner in around 20 minutes. Then little master will bes laying down and sleeping. Master must not go to the healers tired.”
Harry tried not to laugh at that proclamation, knowing better than to argue with the determined little bugger and simply finished his tea, sighing happily as warmth flooded his body again.
“Thank you, Kreacher. Whatever Orion and Abraxas are having is fine by me. Would you mind bringing a mild sleeping draught for me as well after I’ve eaten? I don’t think I’ll be able to get a good night's rest without it.” He flashed a sheepish smile at Kreacher, and simply listened to him ramble about how ‘good young master deserves better’ and ‘of course Kreacher will bring good little master a sleeping draught.’
20 minutes later on the dot, his small dinner of shepherd's pie arrived, causing Harry to have a small chuckle at the elf. He highly doubted this was what Orion and Abraxas had, as it was his favorite and Kreacher knew that as well, he must have made it specially for Harry’s enjoyment.
Once he had finished his meal, showered and changed into his night clothes, a vial appeared on his nightstand of a dandelion yellow potion, the mild sleeping draught he had requested from Kreacher arriving along with a small glass of pumpkin juice to help wash the disgusting taste out of his mouth before settling down under his covers and curling up in a ball, letting the potion lull him softly to sleep.
Sitting in the lobby of St. Mungos was always an experience for Harry. The sterile white background, the sizzle of disinfecting and sterilising spells hung heavy in the air. It made him twitchy, the feeling of such magic leaving him stripped bare and like he was polluting a sacred space.
He checked his watch again, still 5 minutes until his appointment, it had only been one since he had last checked his watch. The longer he waited, the more nervous he became and the more he was convincing himself that he was overreacting. Harry was sure he was just using a bit too much magic and that made him feel that annoying pain, and the fatigue.
Just as he convinced himself he could just leave, a medi-witch came through the doors opposite holding a clipboard and in a bored tone of voice, looked over at the people waiting.
“Mr. Harry Potter please.” Harry swallowed down a mouthful of saliva, his nerves had skyrocketed but he gave a jerky nod to the medi-witch and stood up to follow her back to the examination rooms behind.
“You’ll be seeing Healer Camilla Jacobs today in exam room 5.” Harry simply nodded, just wanting to get this over with and go home to curl up in his various blankets and sleep.
The medi-witch led him into the room, telling him to take a seat on the chair by the desk and informed him that the healer would be there shortly. Harry gave another jerky nod, and mumbled a thank you to her as she left the room.
Against his will, his knee began bouncing, and he started to fiddle with his fingers and the loose threading of his robe sleeves. He had never quite gotten used to wearing robes all the time, even at Hogwarts he took them off as soon as classes for the day were over, much preferring his muggle clothing, they were more practical in his opinion and didn’t get in the way as much as the robes had. But he was in the past now, and wearing muggle clothing was just not done yet, from what he had seen that wouldn’t happen until the late 70s or early 80s as more witches and wizards adapted to muggle fashion, even if the pure bloods only did it to seem ‘trendy.’
He was so lost in his thoughts that he startled when a light cough reached his ears, and blushing furiously he snapped his attention to the Healer. She was a rather tall woman, with strawberry-blond hair that was tied back in a sensible bun and sharp, hazel coloured eyes that he privately thought missed nothing.
“Sorry ma’am, I didn’t hear you come in. It’s nice to meet you,” Harry said awkwardly, not quite meeting her eyes as he nodded his head to accompany his greeting.
“Not to worry Mr. Potter, it happens more than you think.” Harry gave a weak laugh, this woman reminded him of Professor McGonagall when he was at Hogwarts.
“Now, what brings you in to see me today?” She asked him as she sat down on the chair across from him, behind a desk that was neat but had his rather slim file on it. He hadn’t had to see a healer much in this time. Only a handful of times for some minor flying related injuries and once for new glasses.
“Ah well...you see I’ve been having this pain all over the past few months, at first I could ignore it, and it wasn’t constant. But over the past month, the pain has steadily gotten worse to where I can feel it all the time. I've also experienced some fatigue and a loss of appetite recently as well. I’d say those last symptoms started…2 weeks ago now and I’m getting concerned as I’ve never experienced something like it before.” Harry was uncomfortable when the healer looked over him shrewdly, seeming to be trying to catalog anything else he may have missed out.
“Have you noticed any weight loss? Loose bowel movements? Trouble sleeping?” Harry shook his head no to all the questions and the healer frowned before drawing her wand.
“Alright Mr. Potter, I’m going to cast a few diagnostic charms on you to check your general health and magical core, if that is alright with you?” Again Harry simply nodded, his nerves skyrocketing as she cast her charms.
The longer the spell work went on, the more his healer frowned and the more spells she cast at him. Roll upon roll of parchment materialising at the end of her wand before being glanced at, and placed on the pile before more spells were aimed at him.
It must have been 10 minutes before the casting stopped, and by that point Healer Jacobs had a frown on her face. This couldn’t be good. Harry braced himself, waiting on the news.
“Mr. Potter, I’m going to have to call in another Healer on this. One who specialises in magical maladies. I’ll be blunt, your diagnostics don’t make any sense to me hence the need to call in the specialist on this. His name is Edwin McGregor, and I feel he’ll be able to shed some light on this. If you don’t mind waiting for 30 minutes, I can get you an appointment with him today.”
“Yeah uhh okay? That’s fine, I don’t mind waiting.” His heart was racing, what could possibly be wrong with him that would have him needing to see a specialist?!
“Excellent. I’m also going to draw some blood for our lab to examine as you wait, that way Healer McGregor will have everything on hand and hopefully, be able to figure out why I’m getting the readings I am.”
Harry just nodded, his entire body felt like it had been dunked in ice cold water. He held out his arm, shirt sleeve rolled up for the healer to access his inner arm, watching as she tapped her wand gently again the crook of his elbow, a thin stream of his blood gather in at the tip of her wand encased in a soft white glow before being transferred to three different tubes with different coloured lids. He didn’t know what the different colours meant, and honestly, he didn’t really care at this point. He just wanted... no, he needed answers.
“It was nice meeting you Mr. Potter. Healer McGregor will see you in around 30 to 35 minutes and the results of the tests I’m ordering should be ready then. If you make your way to floor 1, you’ll find his office to the left of the double doors after you exit the elevator. Good luck.” Harry stood up, and shrugged his cloak back on, nodding in thanks to the healer before exiting back into the waiting room.
Taking a breath, he checked his watch, figuring he had enough time to go to the 5th floor and grab a cup of tea before his appointment. He wasn’t exactly thirsty, but the tea would warm him up and bring a small amount of comfort to his roiling emotions and stomach.
Making his way to the elevators going up, he pressed the button and waited for it to come to the ground floor, stepping in and hitting the button for the tea room and visitors center. There were only a couple of others in the elevator with him. A small boy who was completely orange with dragon wings and his exasperated father and an elderly woman who squinted at the buttons for the various floors, before pressing for floor 4. The father and son were also going to the tea room, likely waiting on a healer with experience in accidental magical transfigurations.
The tea room as expected, was an extremely lackluster room, a few wobbly tables, chairs stacked neatly against the far wall with a small stand displaying a couple of sad looking sandwiches and cakes, the smell of weak coffee and stale tea hung in the air making Harry grimace, but he needed the tea, otherwise he would have turned around and went down to the waiting room to wait until his appointment, but he was here now.
Walking up to the witch who was stationed at the counter and ordering one tea he looked around, there weren’t many people here currently, visiting hours for most of the wards weren’t until later that afternoon. The only ones who seemed to be here were people waiting for an appointment — like the father and son he got the lift with, or inpatients who were out to simply stretch their legs and get away from their beds for an hour or so.
Soon enough, he held his tea in his hands, fixed it to his liking and took a small sip, grimacing at the weakness of it and how they seemed to be able to brew the staleness into the tea. He would still drink it however, it had cost 2 sickles, which converted to pounds sterling was around 58 pence, or 11 shillings and 9d considering it was still pre-decimalisation of the pound. He would never get used to the conversion rates of it.
30 minutes later he was outside healer McGregor's office. His heart was hammering out of his chest and he was worrying again. Harry couldn’t help but feel dread in the pit of his stomach. He just knew that something was seriously wrong when he had been squeezed in to see a specialist on the same day.
A short portly man came out of the office, his brown hair receding creating an almost comical look on him and coupled with the thin bronze framed glasses, he was not exactly what Harry had been picturing.
“Mr. Potter I presume? Good, good, perfectly on time. Now if you don’t mind following me into my office, I can do my own diagnostics to make sure the readings from Camilla — healer Jacobs — matches. Not that I don’t trust her of course, but I quite like doing my own testing as well you see.” The healer was almost rambling? Harry just nodded along and followed him into a much nicer office than the exam room he had initially been in. It was a calming deep blue colour, with a large window showing an enchanted view of a meadow on the far end. Harry imagined that it was all to soothe agitated patients whilst he was giving them the diagnosis.
Harry sat down in one of the plush chairs, sighing softly at the warming charm that must be imbued within the fabric as he looked at the healer and nodded his permission for the testing.
“Now, this will be slightly different to what you had just a little bit ago. My diagnostics are more specialized than what my colleague cast, I’ll start with a general health one and slowly move up to different diagnostic charms, which will hopefully let me know exactly what area I need to focus on healing to get you back on your feet and in tip top shape. Some of the spells will feel a little odd, and there may be a slight pain to a few of them as it’ll probe you down all the way to the components of your blood.” The healer finished, far too cheerful for Harry to be comfortable with, but nonetheless, Healer McGregor did seem to know his stuff, and had high hopes of curing him of whatever it was he had.
“Of course sir, my main concern is simply getting better, or staying as well as possible. You have my consent to do whatever spells or tests you deem necessary.”
With that said, Harry took off his cloak and over robe at the healer's directions, and relaxed as best as possible as McGregor pulled out his wand and began his work.
True to the healer's words, some of the tests were… uncomfortable, not enough to have him asking to stop, but enough to where he bit his lip so as not to grimace in pain as the spells got longer, and probed deeper.
It seemed to take forever before the healer lowered his wand to look over the results of the various diagnostic spells he had done, and by the frown that just seemed to become deeper the longer he read, it wasn’t going to be good for Harry.
“Mr. Potter — Harry if I may use that name. Have you ever come into contact with any kind of venomous beast? Been bitten by anything unusual?” That was… oddly specific and Harry had to cast his mind back, grimacing as an image popped into his head.
“Ah… I came into contact with a basilisk when I was 12, if that’s what you mean?” Judging by the healer swiftly paling face, he would not like what he was about to be told.
“Did you receive any medical attention afterwards? Well yes, you must have otherwise, we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation."
Harry paused, thinking back, he actually hadn’t. After Fawkes had cried onto the wound, he had simply been sent to bed. Now that he was thinking about it, he couldn’t remember actually being treated for a lot of things that happened to him whilst he was at Hogwarts under Dumbledore's reign as headmaster.
“Ah…well actually, I would have died, but a phoenix cried on the wound, and no one mentioned me having to go to hospital or anything afterwards. I simply just went to bed at my… mentor's urging.” He couldn’t exactly say he had defeated a 1000 year old basilisk at Hogwarts whilst Dumbledore was headmaster, he didn’t even think he was headmaster at this current time so he was keeping his explanation as vague as possible so as to not disturb the timeline more than he already was by being here.
If he thought the healer was pale before, he was positively ghostly white now. Harry felt the stirrings of panic start to appear, but shoved it down again. He was good at that, ignoring his feelings until he needed them, it had practically been drilled into him since before he could walk that his thoughts and feelings came second to everyone else’s.
“Mr. Pott—Harry, I have one more test I’d like to run on the blood that we collected earlier. Can you give me 5 minutes to nip to the lab and run this test? I shouldn’t be long and then I’ll have an answer to your problems.”
What else could Harry do except nod his consent? Not much, even if he was now more sure that whatever was wrong with him was dire to have the healer looking so pale and almost pitying towards him.
So he waited. Then waited some more. Just as the clock was hitting 3pm on the dot, the door opened again and in came Healer McGregor and another man, one he didn’t know yet but looked vaguely familiar.
“Harry, this is my colleague from the magical creatures department at the ministry, he’s going to take a look at my results before confirming if I’m correct in my thinking or not. Once he has confirmed or denied he’ll leave and then I’ll update you on what I have found.”
Healer McGregor turned and cast a silencing charm over himself the guest, he could make out some frantic whispering, but could hear nothing, and saw a grim shake of the mystery man’s head as Healer McGregor's eyes closed, before opening and nodding and dispelling the silencing charm.
“Thank you for the help Finn, I’ll be in touch.” He nodded to the man as he exited, carrying a copy of everything the healer handed him on the way out before sitting down and spelling the door closed, locked, and silenced.
“Mr. Potter… I have an answer to your problems and I’m afraid it isn’t good news.”
Harry was numb, he could barely hear what the healer was saying over the rushing round in his ears. He knew he wasn’t taking much of it in, but he snapped back when the healer put a comforting hand over his own — absently noting that it was shaking and gripping the wood of the desk between them so hard his knuckles had turned white.
“I’m so sorry, Harry. I wish I could have given you better news.”
And honestly? So did Harry. He was fervently wishing that this was just a dream, a nightmare he could wake up from. He knew it wasn't, however, the pain in his hands from gripping the desk let him know that no, he wasn’t stuck in a nightmare, he was awake and this was real life.
The healer was talking again, he should be paying attention to this…
“…if you had been sent straight to a hospital after the incident, we would have been able to siphon the venom out of your body whilst the phoenix tears had it contained. Even a year later, we would have expected a recovery rate of over 80%. It’s simply been too long now. The venom has already started to affect your blood at the very base level, and there’s nothing we can do to halt the spread, or cure you. It’s been too long now.” The healer was looking at him, expecting an answer, but nothing came from him. He was too deep in shock and mind-numbing horror to have an answer to anything he was asked.
“How long?” Harry eventually managed to croak out, weird, he couldn’t talk. His throat had closed up, and his mouth had gone bone dry. He was simply working on autopilot now, just wanting the answer to that one question before he left to go home.
“It’s hard to say…but at the rate the venom is destroying your blood, and your current symptoms? Anything from 3-6 months, possibly a little longer if we’re lucky.”
Harry choked on a sob and nodded, tuning out the healer again. He rose automatically, shook the healer's hand, thanked him, and left the office in a daze, he didn’t even register getting to the reception area, or leaving St. Mungos until he felt the warmth of the sun on his face and the cool breeze lightly ruffling his hair.
He knew he shouldn’t apparate in this state, but he simply didn’t care. He spun on his heel and with a soft crack, disappeared from outside the hospital and landed in his bedroom.
He didn’t know how long he had been lying on his bedroom floor dazed, but when he finally realised he was shivering, and the lights had turned on by themselves, he finally pushed himself up. He was cold and his muscles were stiff from being in one position for so long. How long had he laid there? An hour? Two? Three? He didn’t truly know, nor did he really care. All that was repeating in his mind were three simple words.
You’re dying, Harry, it’s all he could think about as he stripped off his clothes You’re dying, Harry, as he showered and brushed his teeth. You’re dying, as he put his night clothes on. Dying, as he slid into bed, and wrapped the duvet around himself, as if he could cocoon himself away from those three words he wasn’t expecting to hear on a Wednesday afternoon.
You’re dying.
Within the safety of his bed, he finally felt his numbness fading away, only to be replaced with the sheer-terror he felt at that one word.
“I’m dying…” he whispered quietly into the night, hearing Orion and Abraxas in the hallway, laughing softly as they walked into their own room. They hadn’t even come in to ask how the healers went, he was forgotten.
He was always forgotten.
Once he heard their bedroom door close, he let himself feel. He let himself feel it all. The anger, betrayal, fear, anguish, everything he had been pushing down since he was a toddler and trying desperately to please his aunt and uncle by being normal.
He couldn’t even be normal at dying.
He would never be normal.
In the silence of the night, he let himself weep silently for the lost life he had once wished so hard for.
Everything else could be handled tomorrow. Tonight, tonight he would simply be and let himself feel.
When Harry woke up the next morning, he wasn’t sure what time it was. His eyes were crusty from dried tears and his nose felt terribly stuffy. For a brief moment, he couldn’t remember why he had been crying. Then it came to him.
“I’m dying,” he whispered, looking out of his window, the bright sun and cloudless sky completely at odds with his mood.
It still didn’t feel real. What wizard expected to go in for a minor problem only to be told he was dying? Hadn’t he suffered enough in his short 23 years on this earth?
He lived through possessed teachers, hoards of dementors, a blood-bath of a tournament where he had been kidnapped and forced to be part of a ritual to resurrect the darkest dark lord the UK had ever possibly seen! He had also lived through a deranged teacher who tortured students and drugged them with truth serum, not to mention the entire year on the run, with death just one wrong word away. Not to mention the basilisk.
It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this afterwards, he was supposed to get his happily ever after.
Instead, he was dying. He had 6 months, possibly less, to live.
It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.
A sob escaped him, involuntarily. He had doubled over, curling up on his side as more tears and great wrenching sobs escaped his body involuntarily.
His entire body was shaking as he fully realised that in 6 months or less, he would be nothing but a footnote in the paper.
He would be forgotten.
Again.
He was nothing but the small, starved boy in the cupboard, longing for something that was always just out of reach.
It wasn’t fair.
He just lay on his bed that morning, letting his mind go numb and staring out the window at nothing. It was almost peaceful, he mused. How the world would continue to spin on, even without him being on it.
He wondered then, if he would be reunited with the people he had lost in his life. His mum and dad, Fred and Colin, Tonks and Remus, Sirius and Cedric… all the unnamed people who fought with him during the final battle at Hogwarts. Or would he need to wait, alone until they died when the timelines caught up with each other?
Would any of them actually die with him being thrown into the past? He hoped not. They deserved good, long lives. Lives full of wonder, happiness and love that was so cruelly being snatched away from him.
Or would nothing change? Would they all still die regardless? He didn’t know.
Regardless, he would be there to greet them no matter what happened. He would be proud of them all. For everything they had accomplished and wished too. He loved them all so much.
If there was one upside to the whole dying thing, it would be nice to have a hug from his mum, a hair ruffle from his dad. Maybe he wouldn’t be alone in the afterlife. It would be nice, not to be forgotten. Reunited with people who he knew loved him unconditionally, despite how short their time on this earth was.
They deserved to know they mattered. That they were mourned, the way he was sure he wouldn’t be.
It still wasn’t fair, he thought glumly, but he would be there for the others who came after or before. He would greet them with open arms and hugs.
It was almost enough to draw a small smile out of him. Almost, but not quite.
Harry was snapped out of his almost dream-like state by a persistent shaking of his leg and something trying to talk to him. Who could it be? He wondered, dragging his thoughts and brain back to focus on the present. What he was greeted with was a surprise.
Kreacher was standing at the edge of his bed, one hand up and shaking his leg persistently, a concerned and anxious look on his face. Funny how they hadn’t gotten along well in the past until after the final battle, but here, they had somehow clicked together, forming a still surprising friendship, that he still wasn’t quite sure how it happened.
Oh, Kreacher was talking to him.
“…..-aster? Good little master? What is being wrong? Is good young master bes needing anything?” Harry looked at the poor little guy, his distress was evident by his high pitched tone. He should answer him, but he didn’t think he was capable of speech so simply shook his head minutely.
“Kreacher is being trying to get good little masters attention for a while now. You is being telling Kreacher what is wrong. But good little master will bes drinking his tea and eating his breakfast first. Kreacher wills be back soon with little masters breakfast and he will bes eating it all.” Harry watched bemused as Kreacher popped out of his bedroom, honestly, he was still reeling from how forceful he had been with his…request? That he couldn’t do anything but obey what the little guy had told him.
He drank his tea and when Kreacher popped back with breakfast, made sure he ate it all, under the watchful eyes of the house elf who had attached himself to Harry.
“Now little master is being properly fed, little master will tell Kreacher what is being happening to make him so hard to wake up. Kreacher will be knowing if little master be lying to him.” Harry looked at Kreacher, not really knowing how to react to the elf’s forceful approach. It was unusual, to say the least but truthfully, Harry wasn’t in any state or frame of mind to even come up with a believable lie. He was pants at lying anyway. So he just…blurted it out.
“I’m dying Kreacher.” The words hung in the air, a heavy weight between them, both frozen but for different reasons. Harry for saying it out loud, to another person, and Kreacher for the news that had just been dumped on him, with no warning or heads up.
He knew Kreacher would know he was telling the truth. It was something in the elf bond that told him so.
Suddenly, he had Kreacher on his knees, his small hands twisted in Harry’s sleep shirt, fat tears rolling down the elf’s cheeks.
“Little master is not being dying! Little master can’t die. Kreacher is not knowing what he will be doing without his good, kind, little master! Is little master being sure he is dying? The wizards can be fixing little master!” Harry simply held Kreacher, waiting for him to calm slightly before handing him a handkerchief to wipe the tears out of his eyes and off his face.
“I’m sorry Kreacher, there’s nothing they can do to save my life. If I had gotten medical attention when it first happened, I’d likely not be dying. But it’s too late now, there’s nothing they can do. The venom has already contaminated my blood.” Kreacher looked confused, so Harry told him the tale of his second year at Hogwarts.
A house elf interfering with him getting to Hogwarts, an evil wizard slipping a cursed diary to his best friends younger sister, the petrifications of the students, him finding out about the owner of the diary, Hermione figuring it out, his and Ron’s descent into the chamber of secrets, the cave in and Lockhart's backfired memory charm and finally the battle with the basilisk, getting bitten, Fawkes crying into the wound and going back up the pipe before simply being sent to bed with no checkups or anything.
There was silence then, as Kreacher digested the information he had just been given, continuing to wipe his face before his brain caught up with his mouth.
“Bad master whiskers didn’t even gives you a check up?!” Harry had never seen a pissed off house elf, but he was seeing one now. It was kind of terrifying. “Bad master whiskers! Kreacher will makes sure that whiskers never step foot in Kreacher’s home while Kreacher is still alive. No he won’t. How could bad master whiskers do that to Kreacher’s wonderful Little Master?!”
Harry was making a mental note to take the memory of this encounter out to show to Hermione in the future. Really, all she needed to do was rile the house elves up and then point them at their perceived enemies.
But soon enough, Kreacher’s tirade ended, and silence rang around them once more. It was a heavy silence that was broken once again by Kreacher’s small voice.
“Does Masters Sunshine and Moonlight be knowing yet?”
Harry looked at the elf sadly, shaking his head trying to muster up a smile for him.
“No, they don’t Kreacher, and I want it to stay that way. I don’t want them to know. That’s an order. Just…let them continue on as they are…they—they deserve to be happy with each other”, Harry finished off with a half-sob near the end as he wrapped his arms around himself, hoping that that would prevent another breakdown.
“They won’t know until I’m already gone. It—it’s better that way. For everyone. Do you understand, Kreacher? Not a word to anyone, at least not until I’m gone. Remember this is an order.” Harry looked at Kreacher, watching him trying to find a loop made his heart ache, but it would be better this way.
He would simply fade away into the background. Orion and Abraxas had each other, they would be fine, possibly even better off without him imposing on them.
He knew Kreacher didn’t like this order, but it was one he was determined the little guy would carry out for him. He had no one else he could rely on to help him get his affairs in order, to help him as the time drew nearer.
He could vaguely remember what the healer had said, but a lot of it was a blur in his mind, he could recall McGregor saying that he would lose weight, that his magic would become unpredictable as the venom moved through his body. He recalled something about blisters starting on his feet, moving up his legs and then his torso and arms. Harry was sure there was more, but currently he couldn’t recall the information. It was too deeply in his subconscious for him to pull up.
“I know you aren’t happy with this, Kreacher, but it’s important to me. Who else am I going to rely on to take my last will and testament to be filed with the goblins? To help me as I get sicker? I’ll only accept your help Kreacher, but if you tell anyone, I will banish you from my rooms. I won’t do it happily, or easily, but I will. This is how much this order means to me.” Harry looked at the stricken elf, his eyes if possible, had gotten rounder the longer he talked but, he was sure he had gotten through to him.
“Kreacher will follow good little masters order. But Kreacher is not being happy with it.” Harry smiled, and placed his hand on the top Kreacher’s head with a soft smile
“You’ve been a wonderful elf to me Kreacher, I’m proud to be able to call you a friend.” Harry suddenly found himself with an armful of weeping elf and all he could do was hug him tightly before setting him down again on the edge of his bed.
“Thank you for being here with me Kreacher, it means a lot. Now do you think you could go to Gringotts bank and ask the Potter account manager for any legal forms I’ll need to fill out to file my will and any bequeathments I wish to make? I’m not sure what all I’ll need to make it legal, but I’m sure you know what I need.”
Kreacher nodded once, and with one last wipe of his face, vanished with a quiet pop to go to Gringotts wizarding bank to arrange for the delivery of his documents.
It took two weeks for everything to be sorted with the goblins, he had made sure every t was crossed and i dotted before both he and the goblins were happy with it.
His will was rather simple, most of his money would be locked down until his future self could inherit it as he had in his own time. He added a small bequeathment to both Orion and Abraxas, totalling less than 1000 Galleons (not that they really needed the money, but it was the thought that counted, right?) and a donation to St. Mungos of 2000 Galleons to be used wherever it was needed most. His clothes would all be donated to various charities, both muggle and magical alike with the strict stipulation that Kreacher be allowed to keep three of his items if he so wished.
His broom and quidditch equipment would be donated to Hogwarts, and whatever was left, his few friends could choose what they wished to keep, if they wanted to keep any. Truthfully, he didn’t really have many friends here, but he had a couple and he knew having one of his possessions would bring more comfort than any sum of money ever could.
With one last careful read through, he nodded to himself and signed his name with the provided quill that was specially enchanted by the goblins so no one could forge a fake will. Any others that were filed for him would be considered null and void and the perpetrator would then face goblin justice for fraud.
With that now done, he set it aside carefully, placing it in the envelope for Kreacher to deliver later once he was finished with, possibly, the much harder task he had set himself.
A letter to Orion and Abraxas, explaining what had happened.
To my dearest Orion and Abraxas,
I am sorry you are finding out this way that I was- am terminally ill. It was not my intention to leave in this manner, nor was it my goal to leave either of you at all. If I could live on, I would, simply to be able to bask in your presence once again.
I don’t know what the coming weeks or months will hold for me, but know this; I will greet death like an old friend who I have not seen for many years when I take my last breath.
You have made my life more complete, more rich in colour and vibrancy since we first laid eyes on each other in the middle of the night after I dropped rather abruptly on top of your tent.
You may not have treasured me in the same way you do each other, but that’s okay. Even though I will be dead by the time you read this letter, I will die with the knowledge that I was with you until my last breath.
Yours forever, now and always
Harry
Harry signed his name, with a slightly shaking hand before sealing it in the envelope he had next to him. It was charmed so it would be able to be opened after his death, and could only be opened by either Abraxas or Orion and no one else.
A stray tear rolled down his cheek unnoticed by Harry and fell onto the parchment envelope, smudging the letters slightly between Orion & Abraxas’ name.
“Kreacher?” Harry called softly, knowing that the elf wasn’t far away from him nowadays, it was sweet that he didn’t want to leave Harry by himself. Harry was pretty sure if he could, Kreacher would sleep in his bedroom on the floor if Orion and Abraxas didn’t need him at random times throughout the day.
“Yes good little master? How can Kreacher bes helping?” Harry looked at him fondly and sealed the envelope containing his will with the Potter coat of arms and as an added safety precaution, added one drop of his blood so the goblins would know it was him that wrote it and he was not under duress.
“Can you take these to Gringotts for me and ask for it to be filed as soon as possible? And whilst you’re there, deposit this letter in the Potter main vault and only retrieve it once I’ve died and pass it to either Abraxas or Orion? Preferably both if you can manage it.”
“Kreacher can be doing that good little master. Kreacher will be also buying his good masters favourite ice cream. When Kreacher is back, good little master will be eating his lunch and his ice cream then he is be going for a nap.” With a stubborn nod, Kreacher took the letters Harry had offered him, and then, just as softly as he had appeared, he popped out to Gringotts then Diagon Alley.
All Harry could do was smile and chuckle fondly at the antics.
It was 3 weeks later when the first symptom of his failing body appeared. Harry had woken up feeling dizzy and with no appetite, the world was spinning and it took all of Harry’s willpower to simply stand up and not immediately fall to the floor in a crumpled heap.
He simply held onto his wall, closing his eyes to just make the world stop spinning until the wave had passed and he could once again, open his eyes to a stationary world.
Tears were pricking at the corner of his eyes, he knew what this meant. The first stages of his body dying were starting. He didn’t truly know how to feel, or even if he should feel anything. It was all very… clinical currently as he made a mental note of the date, and what symptom he had presented with to send off a note to Healer McGregor. He had asked Harry at the follow up appointment when he was told what to expect over the coming months, that it was important to keep track of his symptoms so they could be managed or mitigated before they grew worse.
Harry made his way shakily over to the desk in the corner of the room, pulling a muggle pen from the drawer in his desk and a fresh sheet of parchment towards him. His note was short and to the point.
‘Healer McGregor, the symptoms have started. Woke up this morning with no appetite and dizziness. -HJP.’
Normally he would have elaborated but right now, he really couldn’t be bothered to do so. The healer would know what he meant and who he was and he was expecting a round of potions to arrive that would hopefully help the next morning.
He gave a short, sharp whistle towards his window, waiting patiently for his owl to arrive. Maybe he would see Hedwig again in the afterlife?
A clack of a beak brought his attention to the handsome tawny owl that was now standing at attention on the desk in front of him. Harry reached a hand out and stroked down his owl's beautiful plumage before taking the letter and attaching it to Apollo’s leg.
“Take this to Healer McGregor at St. Mungo's hospital boy, he’ll know what the note means. Feel free to stay in the area, he might have potions for you to bring back.”
With one last stroke of Apollo’s chest, he brought his hand away and watched as the owl hopped to the open window (which now had charms on it to prevent a draft, courtesy of Kreacher) and flew off.
With that taken care of, he didn’t really know what to do with the rest of his day. Anything that involved moving his body more than absolutely necessary was instantly struck off of his list, he knew he would just end up dizzy again and on the floor.
Truthfully, he thought, he would much rather curl up in his bed, cocooned in his blankets to shut the world out. But at the same time, that would give him too much time to think.
Orion and Abraxas still hadn’t come to check how the appointment had gone, he didn’t even think they had noticed his steadily declining health, or his more frequent absences at breakfast and dinner.
It hurt to realise that he was already being ignored, but he had steeled himself to this.
For a time, he had contemplated just leaving. He didn’t think that the others, except Kreacher, would notice that he had just up and left.
But Harry had decided against just leaving. The thought of leaving behind a place so saturated with his soulmate's magic that he could feel it tingle along his skin and encase him softly like a blanket felt wrong. He was comfortable here, and if there was one thing he wanted to be in his last few months on this plane of existence, it was to be comfortable in a place he considered home.
Or had considered home.
Harry refused to let himself dwell on those memories however, knowing that he would just end up sobbing quietly into his pillows and have a raging headache afterwards.
Thinking about his possible activities he came to the conclusion that he hadn’t visited the library in a while, he had finished that book of offensive wards, and was curious to know more despite himself. If only they had taught things like this at Hogwarts! He was sure he would have been a straight O student, except potions that is, he was sure he would still be in the EE range.
He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice that the normally shut library doors were slightly ajar. Nor did he hear the noises coming from within.
If he had noticed, he would have turned and walked back to his bedroom, but he was too lost in thought to notice what he had walked into until he heard Abraxas gasp and for him and Orion to suddenly spring apart, deep flushes staining their cheeks bright red, and shirts and trousers being hastily righted, buttoned and zipped.
It took a moment for the scene Harry had just walked into by accident, to fully be absorbed by his brain, and when it did, he swallowed heavily, mumbled some apologies, and fled the library for his bedroom.
Harry ignored the ‘Harry, wait!’ From behind him, slamming the door shut and warding it to hell and back so they wouldn’t be able to get in.
Which was a bad idea, in hindsight.
When the last ward snapped into place, his vision immediately whited out, why was the room spinning? Was someone running water in the bathroom?
He must have fainted, was his first thought when he finally came back around to an ashen house elf hovering around him, cleaning up what was obviously the remains of his dinner from the floor with a few deft snaps of his fingers.
“Is little master being okay? Kreacher is coming to deliver dinner to his good little master when he is finding him on the floor with a nosebleed. Kreacher is not knowing what to do so Kreacher used his magic to try to wake the kind young master. Kreacher is very happy it is being working.”
With another few snaps, Harry was in his night clothes, a washcloth had wiped the dried blood from his nostril and he was gently placed into his bed, sitting up.
“Kreacher will be bringing little master a bowl of elf-broth. It is being very good for settling the stomach and retuning strength, but Kreacher is not knowing if it is being working on a wizard, but Kreacher will try. Yes Kreacher will.”
Harry simply watched the little elf flutter around nervously, not quite understanding what happened to him. One moment he was warding his door and the next, he was lying on the floor staring up at Kreacher.
Why did he faint again?
Oh… Harry remembered now. He had been going to the library to exchange one of his books he had finished reading, but when he had gotten inside he had found Orion and Abraxas practically trying to wrestle with their tongues, Orion’s hand being down the front of Abraxas’ trousers more than clued him in on what he had walked into.
He remembered fleeing from them, then setting up some extremely powerful wards they would have some extreme difficulty breaking through, at least not without activating one of the handful of fail-safes he had incorporated into the scheme.
The perks of being a war veteran he guessed.
The magic he had spent putting up the wards must have aggravated his condition. Now he was thinking about it, he did recall McGregor saying something about his magic possibly starting to become unstable or unpredictable at points, but he wasn’t sure if that’s what had happened or if it had simply been magical exhaustion, he had to remember his body wasn’t as capable as it used to be, nor was he as resilient.
It was his depressing reality now. According to McGregor, things would just get worse from here on out.
Harry was depressed. He knew that. He had rarely left his bed the week following the library incident, the memory seared into his brain for posterity.
He hadn’t seen either of them since, not that he had actively gone looking for them, keeping any wandering he did until well after 2am in the morning, anything to avoid walking in on that again.
Why couldn’t he have what they had? What made him so unloveable that the mere thought of even spending time with him made them scuttle away into the arms of the other?
Harry knew he wasn’t the most attractive guy around, he was short standing at a mere 5ft 3in, (thank you Dursley family for that.) he was also rather scrawny, never being able to get used to routine meals especially after that year on the hunt. He knew his hair resembled a bird's nest more than any kind of artfully perfected style. But he didn’t think he was ugly, everyone always remarked that his eyes were stunning, his nose fit his face proportionally unlike certain other peoples (Snape, for one. Dumbledore for another) and according to Hermione, he was charming and witty.
So yes, while he may have some short-comings, he decided he wasn’t particularly ugly either. It just didn’t make sense to Harry.
During the first year he had been here, they hadn’t seemed to mind his short stature or his perpetual wariness and hatred of small, dark, enclosed spaces. He had truly believed he had found a place to belong with people who understood him.
After the first year however, things slowly started to change. Nothing big at first, just plans being canceled or moved, but soon those moved plans just… never happened. Then the physical affection and random hugs had stopped, and gradually, it just got worse to the point where he was barely a mere afterthought to them.
Conversations halted, dinners weren’t eaten together anymore and goddamnit he was still living on the guest floor of Grimmauld Place! He had been here for 5 years! And yet, here he was, still separated from them by an entire floor of the house.
While they had the master bedroom suite on the family floor, which he understood naturally, Orion was the Head of House, since his father Arcturus had retired to Black Castle. He didn’t even want to join them in their bed, he would have just liked to have been on the same floor as them, closer, somewhere where he could pretend he fit in and belonged.
But 5 years later and here he was, still on the guest floor, still alone.
They acted like he was a ghost and he wasn’t even dead yet!
Somehow, that thought was enough to have him double over, laughing hysterically into his hands at that thought, he even missed the pop of Kreacher appearing with one of the potions Healer McGregor had sent back with his owl.
“Is… is good little Master bes feeling alright?”
And honestly, Harry didn’t know, but the fact that it was an elf asking him and not the two loves of his life, had him doubling his laughter to the point he was gasping in great lungfuls of air and tears were streaming uncontrollably down his face.
Of course, none of this reassured Kreacher at all. The longer his laughter continued on, the more anxious and nervous the little guy got.
“I… I… I’m a guest! In my own house!” Harry eventually managed to wheeze out, attempting to wipe the tears out of his eyes and off his face, bursts of laughter still escaping his lips as he finally started to calm down from his… Second? Third? Breakdown? Honestly he had lost track. He deserved a good breakdown every so often.
Yes, he knew he didn’t own the house at this time.
No, it didn’t matter to him that he was thinking of the future, thank you. He felt his point still stood.
“It is being time for little master to bes taking him potion and eat his lunch. Kreacher made little masters favourite sandwiches and soup.”
Harry smiled, his laughter had finally tapered off as he made his way to his desk where Kreacher had laid out a steaming bowl of perfectly seasoned chicken soup and a plate containing two ham sandwiches on sourdough bread. His potion was on the right side, placed in front of both a goblet of pumpkin juice and a cup of tea under a status charm that wouldn’t lift until he picked it up to drink it at his leisure.
He downed the potion first, grimacing at the taste of it and washed it down with a gulp of the pumpkin juice. He didn’t really see the point of the potions, but the healer had been convincing with his argument that while yes — they wouldn’t do much good in the long term, in the short term they’d keep him from feeling absolutely miserable by slowing down his metabolism which would, hopefully, decrease his nausea.
Honestly he may have spaced out during the explanation of what the potion did exactly but it helped so he didn’t question it too much.
What’s the worst that could happen, really? He was already dying.
Harry snorted sardonically at that thought, it was slightly less amusing than it was 40 minutes ago.
He was dying.
Why did he have to be fates' bitch?
Maybe he could find some more information in the library… No, he wouldn’t go there until it was after midnight, he had no wish to stumble on the scene he had witnessed last week, it hurt too much to see them with what he wanted.
It wasn’t fair.
The library proved somewhat useful. He had grabbed every book he could on the matters of magical creatures, healing and potions that was on offer in his quick look through three nights ago. He refused to even venture back to the warding section, just glancing in that direction as he entered the room caused his heart to constrict painfully.
He had already read through most of the small pile he had picked out and had stacked those neatly on the bedside table.
None of those had held any of the answers he was looking for. It had been five and a half weeks since his diagnosis, he was aware that he was running on borrowed time but as long as he could hold onto his small shred of hope one of these books might hold, he wouldn’t give up.
The current book was reading through was proving to be just as useless as the others, his frustrations were mounting and with a frustrated grunt, threw the book across the room and onto his bed.
It didn’t help his frustration, if anything it made it worse because now he had to get up from his chair, walk across his bedroom, get the book, then go back to his desk. Kreacher had yelled at him last night and unceremoniously levitated him off his bed, put him in the shower — still wearing his nightclothes! And turned the water on.
Little arsehole.
He loved him.
With a tired grimace, he stood up with a wince of pain, the all encompassing pain had now spread down to his knees, and he could feel it settling into his fingers. He needed to find any kind of solution in the next couple of weeks or he wouldn’t be fit to do anything, he was already relying more and more on his constant companion Kreacher, and even his owl knew something was wrong and was staying close to its master. Not that he was complaining, really. Apollo was a good owl, and his presence was comforting when he was too exhausted to move off his bed, contemplating if any of the suffering was worth waiting for his inevitable end to come naturally.
There was something comforting about the thought of ending it before he would go naturally. He had thought about it a lot in the last week as the pain spread from his hips to his knees and now into his hands.
He wondered if anyone would find him if he decided to go that route? He liked to think that Abraxas would eventually come looking for him, asking for help with some piece of defensive theory. It was the only time they actually talked anymore, even if it was briefly 5 minutes every two or three weeks.
The only reason he didn’t truly commit to ending himself, was the knowledge that it would probably be Kreacher who found him, and as much as he was debating the idea, he completely nixed it. Kreacher didn’t deserve it. He had been nothing but a true and loyal friend to Harry, and he owed it to him to keep trying to find a solution, and for as long as he could hold a book, he would look.
Finally reaching his bed, he looked down at the book as he went to pick it up when he noticed what section it had flipped to in his frustrated throw.
Harry quickly snatched the book up, practically devouring the section that talked about how sentient species' venom worked. In particular, he paid attention to the mention of vampire and werewolf venom and saliva.
Frantically, he almost ran back to his desk, pains forgotten as he turned to the glossary at the back to find the pages where vampires were discussed more in detail and made a note of which pages talked about werewolves.
“Of all sentient creatures in the world, none are more curious than the vampires. For their bodies no longer need the basics of what it takes to function as a human. Instead of food and water, the vampire craves something far different, the living blood of humans…” Harry huffed in impatience and skimmed this section, he already knew the basic biology of vampires. He wanted to know about their venom specifically and how it changed a human's physiology into that of a vampires. “…vampire venom is vastly understudied, but from what we know, there is a component in the saliva, that when the human is bitten to be turned, burns through the body much like how werewolves transmit their curse. The venom then overtakes the natural functions of the human body over the course of 2 to 3 weeks leaving the previous human as a living undead.”
Harry paused in his reading, it couldn’t be so simple, could it?
He made a note on a scrap piece of parchment to find information on any British vampire clans so he could write to them to hopefully find out more about their venom.
Fortunately he already knew most of the information that was written in this book, so after another read through of the rest of the book and finding nothing useful, he closed and also placed it on the pile to be returned to the library later by Kreacher.
He was shaking in excitement as he pulled a sheet of his most expensive parchment towards himself and plucked up one of his good quills that wrote in a deep shade of black and began to pen a note, he left it unaddressed for now, still needing the information on any British clans he could sent it to, and if there were none he would need the closest European one.
Thankfully, information on the werewolf packs in Britain was much easier to find, he just had to check which one was closest to London and would receive his letter first.
It had taken Kreacher a few days to find the information on the nearest vampire clan, turns out it was in Northern Germany, there were no clans native to the United Kingdom, most of them having fled the violence and persecution they experienced just for daring to exist within the borders.
The vampire leader he was writing to was Teodor Dakus, a Romanian born wizard who was turned into a vampire at some point in the last century.
His note was as informative as it was basic, it explained his situation and hopes that the venom from their saliva could do — something to neutralise the basilisk venom that was slowly destroying his body from his very blood outwards.
The letter to the werewolf pack was much the same, except he duplicated the base letter and sent one to the leader a British-Slavic witch by the name of Ines Novikov, and her second in command, a Scottish born wizard by the name of Alex McBaird. He was sending two letters, as he wasn’t sure what the protocol was for writing to the leader of a pack and figured he couldn’t go wrong with addressing one to each of them.
He whistled for Apollo again, not that he was ever far from him now, but old habits die hard. Once his owl was in front of him, he attached the letters to his legs and told him where to deliver them too.
“Take these two to Ines and Alex of the Hollow Pack in southern England, I’m not sure exactly where they're located currently, but you’re a smart owl and I know you’ll find them. This one is going to Teodor in Northern Germany, I don’t know his clan's full address either so if you can’t deliver this one, it’s fine. I’m not sure if owls can find vampires, even if they do or had magic”
Apollo let out an offended bark at the suggestion that he wouldn’t be able to find someone, causing Harry to chuckle and give him a couple of owl treats from the bag in his desk that was charmed with preservation and freshness charms.
Slowly, he stood up and walked to his window with Apollo resting comfortably on his shoulder before hopping down onto the windowsill, butting Harry’s hand for one last scratch on the back of his head before stretching his wings and hopping out the window to go on with his journey.
Harry stood at the window, watching Apollo disappear into the slowly darkening sky.
He hoped it would rain soon, he enjoyed the way it smelled on the air, and how everything came alive again after a rainstorm. They were in the height of summer now and the days were as long as they’d ever get, he was trying not to dwell on the fact that, if his letters weren’t successful, this would be the last summer he would ever see.
All he could do now was wait. Hoping his letters would get a swift reply.
In the meantime, he actually felt… Well not good today, but compared to other days, this was a good one. He decided he would go for a small walk around the neighbourhood, it would do him some good to get outside for a bit and feel the sun on his skin. Even if he couldn’t take that walk, he could at least sit in the park for a while and people-watch.
His mind made up, he quickly changed his clothes to those of muggle, mostly consisting of a pair of loose cotton pants, and a pale green cotton shirt. He gave himself a once over in the mirror, grabbed his hat and made his way downstairs quietly.
“Oh! Harry, if you’re going out, don’t forget your wand. Orion and I are going to Diagon in a bit.” Came Abraxas' voice from the informal sitting room.
His chest constricted painfully at the sound of Abraxas’ voice, closing his eyes for just a minute to grab his emotions and gain control of them.
“Of course. I have it with me, have fun in the alley!” He called back, quickly making his way out of the house before anything else could be said.
He hadn’t even been invited.
He wished, just once, one of them would ask if he wished to go with them.
Harry pushed it away, he could ruminate on it later, when he was in the privacy of his bedroom again. He was determined to enjoy the warm summer day for what it was, he knew autumn would arrive before he knew it then winter afterwards. He refused to think of anything going past the Yule celebration.
He had walked over to the small park opposite Grimmauld Place and found a bench that was just out of sight of the house and sat down to relax. He spotted a group of children playing tag, a couple of girls sitting on blankets with their mothers nearby, playing with dolls, even a toddler who was holding their fathers fingers as they took their first, shaky steps into the world.
He drank it all in. The squeals of laughter from the children, the soft chatter of the parents catching up, the feel of the sun warming his skin through his clothes, the gentle breeze that brought the smells of honeysuckle and roses from the small flower cart at the other end of the park he even took in the sounds of the pigeons cooing as they pecked away around his feet.
Everything he could feel, smell and sense, he took it in. These days would slowly come to an end if those letters didn’t yield hope and he was determined to have as many of these as possible.
Harry didn’t know how long he sat there, simply lost in thought. In fact, it was the incessant tugging on his trouser legs that shook him from his revere causing him to blink as his eyes had to suddenly adjust to the bright sun again.
What he saw once his eyes had stopped flashing black spots from them suddenly opening had him confused for a minute. There was a small girl, with her chestnut hair braided back into pigtails, she couldn’t be more than 5 or 6 years old, giving him a gapped tooth sweet smile and holding out a daisy to him.
“I’m sorry to bother you mister, but you looked sad! And when my mummy is sad, she always cheers up when I bring her a flower! So I brought you a flower as well to cheer you up too.” He was not going to cry. He was not.
Gingerly, Harry accepted the flower from the little girl, eyes softening as he looked at her with a soft smile.
“Why thank you miss, this is exactly what I needed to cheer me up today. I will keep it forever,” he ignored the painful twist in his gut when he remembered forever could be as short as December, but this little girl wouldn’t know that.
The girl grinned happily, and at her mothers fond urging, skipped back towards her to grab her hand and skip as they excited the park, the mother glancing over at him with that look only parents of young children had.
A simple look to say ‘thank you for indulging my child for a short moment, I’m sorry if it bothered you’. Harry smiled and shook his head, waving them away with a grin he didn’t feel. He hoped his expression read as he intended, that he wasn’t bothered, nor offended. Quite the opposite in fact. He was so deeply touched by what that small, gap-toothed girl had done for him today. He would honour his word to her.
When he reached Grimmauld Place again, tagging his wand thrice on the metal knocker to let himself into the empty house, he made his way back to his bedroom and sat at his desk, the daisy still held gently between his hands.
“Kreacher?” He called, hoping the elf wasn’t busy with something currently.
“Good little master be calling for Kreacher?” Harry nodded, and motioned for him to come closer.
“Could you magically preserve this for me? It means a lot and I’d like to keep it with me.” Kreacher looked confused, but simply nodded and with a snap of his fingers, the flower was magically preserved and encased in a small clear stone.
“Thank you, Kreacher. May I ask, that once I die, could you ensure the flower was buried with me? It would mean a lot.” He placed the stone in a velvet bag that was then put in his pocket, going so far as to have a locator charm placed on both the stone and bag so if he ever lost it, he would be able to find it again.
It wasn’t just a simple flower to Harry.
It was a sign that even in a cruel world, there could still be moments of kindness, even from complete strangers, even from children.
So yes, Harry kept the flower not just because it came from a child, or that it was the first gift he could recall receiving in 3 years, but because it was given to him with no expectations, simply because he looked sad.
He treasured it.
9 days. It had been 9 days now since he had sent Apollo with letters to Teodor, Ines and Alex and he was starting to get nervous that something had happened to Apollo or that his letters had simply been ignored.
No, he had to have faith that at least one of them would have the answer to a possible cure. This was his only chance, even if he had to be turned to stop the effects the basilisk venom was having on his body.
In just those nine days Apollo had been gone, small fluid like blisters had formed on his feet, making any kind of walking extremely painful, not that it wasn’t already with the joints in his knees and elbows almost constantly burning, but it had made it near impossible to slip his socks and shoes on.
Time was slowly running out, he could almost see the days of his life as sand in an hourglass, each moment, each minute he continued to draw breath, more sand would fall to the bottom with no option of turning the hourglass around and have the sand flow back to the other side.
It didn’t work that way.
He wished it did however.
He was only 23…no, he was 24 now. His birthday had been three days ago, and much like his life pre-Hogwarts, the day had simply slipped him by.
Orion had hastily wished him a happy birthday as he made his way to work, brushing past him to kiss Abraxas softly, tenderly on the lips. Then Abraxas had done the same but added a brief side-hug as he too rushed to the floo muttering something about making it up to him later.
Harry had simply returned to his room. Too numb to feel anything at the lack of recognition on possibly his last birthday in this life.
Kreacher had tried, he had made his favourite cake to celebrate the day and he had insisted Kreacher share it with him. It had taken a bit of convincing, but eventually, Kreacher relented and cut them both slices of the gorgeous spiced apple cake, he had even kept muttering about it ‘not beings proper for a house-elf to bes sharing food with his master!’
Harry didn’t care about proprietary, he was just… happy someone had remembered and made an effort to celebrate with him.
He was getting ready for bed now, applying the salve McGregor had sent with an owl from St. Mungos when they had the first of his monthly floo check-ups, to his joints, whimpering in relief when the burning ache dulled to a mere pin-prick sensation. It still wasn’t pleasant, but the salve at least assured him he would get a decent night of sleep, he was determined to stay off the heavy duty potions for as long as possible.
It was as he was putting the salve back into his drawer that he spotted Apollo, flying towards his window. Harry only knew that it was his owl by the colouring. Orion’s owl was mostly grey and Abraxas didn’t have one, preferring to just borrow either his or Orion’s on the rare occasion he had to send a letter or where the owl didn’t wait for a reply.
With trembling hands, he accepted the letters from Apollo, fed him a treat and watched him hop to where he claimed a spot on his bed frame. He let a breath out, these replies held his fate within their envelopes and he was terrified. He wasn’t sure if he was scared that they held answers or scared that they didn’t. His hands were refusing to cooperate with him as he shakily turned both letters over, opening the one from the vampire first.
His stomach sank.
Vampire venom wouldn’t be strong enough to counteract the basilisk venom.
He choked out a sob, his vision blurring as the tears stung his face.
There was still one more letter to open.
It was his only hope now.
His hands were shaking worse than before, despair bubbling up his throat, leaving an acrid taste in the back of his mouth.
He had to know.
Carefully, he broke the seal and pulled the letter out of its envelope.
No…
There was nothing.
The werewolf curse wouldn’t help him either.
He was going to die.
He was going to die at 24.
In that moment, he felt himself shatter. There were no more options he could explore.
He would die, probably before the year was out.
Harry let the letters drop to the floor, the tears were now freely running down his face as his fate fully sunk in now there were no more options to explore.
He collapsed back on his bed and wept for everything that he would never get to do, see or experience.
It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair.
There was a difference, Harry thought, between knowing you were going to die and knowing you were dying.
It wasn’t something he could properly articulate, even to himself. He just knew that there was a significant difference between the two.
Maybe it was the fact that, now that he was facing his inevitable end, it was finally sinking in? His last hope of rescue, even though he was aware that it was a long shot in the first place, had been snatched out from under him.
Or perhaps, it was a simple fact of his life. He had always been running from death, only this time, there would be no miraculous saving coming in the form of phoenix tears or a horcrux.
This was always going to be his end, he just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.
He was watching the rain fall from his bedroom window, sitting in his chair that Kreacher had enchanted with his special brand of elf magic to accommodate the needs of his body as it currently was.
It was soothing, the rain. He had always liked it. The sound it made as it hit the window pane in a repetitive tink-tink-tink noise.
He let his body relax further into the chair, closing his eyes as he just listened, enjoying the calm that he currently had.
The rest could be dealt with tomorrow.
For today, he was simply going to enjoy the pattering of the rain on the glass.
He must have fallen asleep on his chair, because he woke up being gently shook by Kreacher. The rain had stopped at some point during his impromptu nap.
“It is being time for dinner little master. Kreacher is being making some potato soup and rolls. Is good little master be wanting to be eating on his chair or at his desk?” It took Harry a good few minutes to process what was being said, he was still groggy and his mind was feeling sluggish, but Harry eventually came to enough to realise what was being said.
“Oh I’m sorry, Kreacher, it took me a minute to wake up there. I’ll eat in my chair tonight, my feet are really hurting and I doubt I'll make it to the desk.” A sad smile spread over his face as he watched Kreacher’s ears droop before perking up again.
“Of course good little master. Kreacher will be bringing the soup on a lap table so little master be comfortable whilst he is eating”
Harry couldn’t help but smile, it was hard not to, in the presence of the ever helpful creatures. How someone could mistreat them made him shake his head in dismay. All they ever wanted was to help their families. Sadly, this wasn’t something he could fix.
The soup was delicious as always, he tried his best to eat it all but found he simply couldn’t. He was nodding off as it was and more than once he jerked awake after dozing off for a second.
“Kreacher?” He called out, placing his spoon in the still half full bowl, stretching his arm above his head with a grunt, working out the knots in his muscles from sleeping for so long in the chair.
“Could you take the bowl to the kitchens? I don’t think I can eat anymore tonight, I’m simply just too tired.” Harry was aware that it would worry the elf, but honestly, he was just too tired. He still had to apply the salve to his joints, but he would need Kreacher’s help to get it on his knees, he didn’t think he could do it himself tonight. It was simply too painful to bend.
Kreacher had popped back in after taking the bowl away, wringing one of his ears in his obvious distress.
“Can Kreacher be helping good little master with anything else?” The hand wringing his ears stopped as Kreacher looked at him.
“Yes, thank you. Could you grab the tub of salve from my desk drawer for me and apply it to my knees, I don’t feel stable enough to bend down tonight and I’d like to avoid falling.” He was trying to interject some humour into his response, but judging by Kreacher’s face, he had failed miserably.
“Of course Kreacher can be helping. Kreacher will help his good little master to the best he can.” With a snap of his fingers, Kreacher had summoned the salve out of his drawer and had changed him from his day clothes to his nightclothes without him having to ever move. Harry shook his head, a fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, magic never ceased to amaze him.
“It’s only a light layer on each of the knees, it gets massaged into the muscle gently until the salve has been completely absorbed.” He instructed the elf, his pyjama bottoms had already been rolled up, exposing his swollen knee caps to the elf.
He felt Kreacher’s gentle hand spreading the salve over the top, then gently beginning to massage it in. Merlin, Harry wished he could use this salve more often, it felt like his entire limb was being dunked in a warm bath, leaving it feeling almost numb. It didn’t get rid of all the pain, but Merlin, it still felt heavenly to not have to feel like his knee was being dissolved in liquid lava.
He carefully ignored the thought that that was what was essentially happening. Except with highly corrosive venom laced blood instead of molten lava.
“How are the blisters tonight?” Harry asked, subdued. He didn’t want to ask, but he needed to be aware of how his body was reacting and changing over the weeks, he needed to know so he could mentally prepare and plan ahead for any needs that could crop up suddenly.
If anything urgently needed seeing to, or he had a sudden downturn in his health, he had McGregor's personal floo address that Kreacher could use to get him help as soon as humanly possible.
“The blisters is being worse tonight that they is being at the start of the week. They is starting to being going to masters ankles.” Came Kreacher’s subdued response as he fixed his pyjamas so they would cover his legs again. Harry closed his eyes, the news, while being expected, still hurt to hear.
“That’s okay Kreacher, thank you for checking and letting me know.” He was about to settle back in his chair again, letting out a soft ‘eep’ noise as he found himself suddenly floating over to his bed.
“Good little master will not bes sleeping in his chair. It is not being good for his little masters body. Kreacher is making sure his little master be getting proper rest in a proper bed.”
Honestly, Harry couldn’t argue with that logic. His muscles were already knotted up in a ball of pain from just sleeping for a couple of hours in his chair, but he would have appreciated a little warning. Floating without preparing for it was… something he was keen not to experience again.
Kreacher gently dropped him on his mattress, his pillows were already perfectly fluffed up, his blankets were perfectly toasty warm and despite himself, Harry sighed in bliss.
“Thank you, Kreacher. This is perfect.” He stifled a yawn, unconsciously burrowing down into the warmth already dropping off to sleep. He didn’t even feel Kreacher floating his glasses off to sit on the nightstand where he kept them, or the snapping of the elves fingers to fill a glass with water.
It was nearing the end of September now and Harry was sitting in the living room of Grimmauld Place. He had felt okay this morning and had decided to venture outside of his bedroom for a change in scenery and perhaps even some company.
It was nearing lunch time when he sat at the table. Orion and Abraxas walked in, hand in hand without really acknowledging that he was also sitting there, sipping on a cup of weak tea, not really able to handle much food this morning due to the increasing nausea.
“Oh!” Abraxas looked shocked when they finally came out of their own private world, finally noticing that he was also in the same room as them for the first time in… Harry couldn’t even remember the last time all three of them were in the same room, together, at the same time.
“Hello Harry, I… we didn’t see you for a minute there”
Well this was awkward. Harry honestly hadn’t expected either of them to be here at this time of day on a Thursday, normally they’d either be at meetings, holed up in their offices in their ancestral homes, or off doing whatever it was they did together.
He wasn’t not going to think about what that ‘other’ category may contain. He was quite content to stay in his little bubble of ignorance.
“It’s fine. Just wanted a cup of tea and a break from the idiots in charge of training aurors at the ministry. How Abbott even got the promotion is a mystery, he can barely remember which end of his wand he’s supposed to hold.” Harry snorted in derision at the… dubious hiring and promotion criteria for the various departments at the ministry.
Oh well, at least it paid well.
Even if it did come with the downsides of actually having to work in some capacity with them.
“Abbott always has been a moron, he almost set the defence classroom on fire with a badly pronounced protego charm,” Abraxas responded with a snort, Orion grunting his agreement.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if they’d just take my bloody suggestions. I’m currently being fought back against after including a basic section on hand-to-hand combat. They just can’t seem to grasp the reality that without their wands, most witches and wizards are absolutely useless, all it takes is one well placed summoning charm and the auror is ripe for the picking!” He groused, glaring down into his near empty cup.
Idiots, the lot of them. He didn’t even know why he bothered.
Ah, yes. He remembered now. So they’d hopefully survive when Voldemort came into power the first time instead of cowering behind false bravado. Even if only a few people took his advice and learned what he knew they would need, it would be a few more people who would survive the brutality.
Too many people had died the first time around. Many of his classmates had lost parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles… They deserved the chance to live long fulfilling lives, and if he could help them accomplish that task? He would.
Harry was so deep in his thoughts he didn’t notice as blood slowly started to drip down from his nose, or when that drip fell onto his hands, staining them a deep ruby red.
He did notice when Orion let out a yelp, he looked up in confusion for a moment before he realised that his nose was bleeding.
Oh. Oh no.
“It’s fine, it’s fine! Just a nosebleed. It happens when I’m stressed. I’ll be fine.” It was the only excuse he could come up with in the short amount of time he had to formulate one. He should have planned for something like this in advance.
Thankfully for Harry, Orion and Abraxas believed his lie. He quickly stood up, excused himself from the table and fled to his bedroom to try and halt the flow and to clean up.
Harry rushed into his bathroom quickly, looking into the mirror hanging above his sink to take in his appearance.
It… He didn’t look good. He could admit it to himself. His skin was starting to take on an ashen hue, his once bright, emerald green eyes were looking duller, with deep bags underneath pointing to more unsettled nights filled with pain and very little sleep.
It wasn’t surprising that he was starting to look as ill as he actually was inside. He had expected it to happen sooner or later and now at give or take 15 weeks post-diagnosis, he supposed it made sense for him to start deteriorating quicker and to start physically showing the progression of the symptoms more noticeably.
If he was calculating properly, he had at most 16-18 weeks left on this planet, he’d be lucky to make it past Yule at the rate he was going downhill, he hoped he’d hang on a bit longer, to see the new year in. It would really suck to die during one of the happiest parts of the year.
Already the blisters were moving up towards his hips, the ones on his feet were now just constantly sluggishly bleeding, refusing to heal no matter what he or McGregor tried. It had gotten to the point where they had given up trying to heal them, and were just focusing on keeping the wounds clean, it would really just be his luck if he got an infection on top of everything else he had had to deal with.
His mornings now consisted of peeling off the old bandages off his feet and lower legs, which caused an immense amount of pain because of the blood sluggishly flowing out and drying against his skin and the bandage during the night. He would then get up and check his temperature for any signs of fever and a potion to lessen the impacts of the vertigo and nausea.
He would then take an equally painful shower, before dowsing new bandages in an antiseptic potion and having Kreacher help wrap each limb as he tried his best to muffle the hisses and grunts just having Kreacher’s small hands on his burning skin for the few seconds it took to properly secure the potion laced gauze.
The nights were the same process, except now he couldn’t apply the salve to help his knees, the blisters made it impossible since it couldn’t be applied to damaged skin, and that was exactly how his skin was. It was damaged beyond even magic's ability to heal.
October came as it always did, with darkening days, the leaves changing from the vivid greens of summer to the fiery hues of reds, oranges and browns of autumn. In another month, most of the leaves would be gone from the trees, leaving them bare as winter approached.
It was a wet and windy day when Harry woke up, knowing instantly that something was wrong. He was burning up, his body violently shuddering as shivers wracked his thin frame, everything was tilting to the left and the room was spinning, causing his head to throb so painfully he couldn’t suppress the cry of pain that escaped his lips, his hands automatically came up to clutch at the sides.
“K… Kreacher!” He rasped out, stomach violently lurching into his throat, his mouth filling with saliva as he tried to push aside the feeling that he was going to vomit at any moment.
“What can… Little master! What is being wrong?!” Kreacher said as he appeared, even the elf’s voice was enough to send a violent stab of pain throughout his head.
Harry grit his teeth, forcing his eyes to open a sliver as he looked at the elf, standing horrified at the side of his bed.
“B…. B… Bucket!” He moaned out, trying to draw his legs up to curl into a ball, trying to make the pain just stop. He heard Kreacher popping away, and swallowed convulsively, trying to keep himself from vomiting until a bucket, or basin or just… anything was placed in his hands.
“Kreacher is being back!” Harry felt more than saw, a bucket being placed within arms reach of himself. He forced himself to sit up, ignoring the spinning world and grabbed it just in time as he wretched and proceeded to vomit for what felt like hours.
Once his dry heaving was under control, he fell back, soaked through with sweat, his hair was plastered to his forehead from the heat that was radiating off of him, but he still felt like he was freezing cold.
That was when he noticed the taste in his mouth. It was… almost metallic? That couldn’t be good, could it?
“Kreacher is going to bes calling Healer McGregor! Good little master had just been throwing up blood.”
Oh, Harry thought, that explained the metallic taste mixed with bile that was left lingering in his mouth.
The next thing he knew, there was another person in the room that wasn’t just Kreacher. He must have fell asleep, or passed out at some point after he threw up for McGregor to be standing there, a soft, solemn look on his face.
“Good Morning, Harry. Your elf…Kreacher, correct? Came to get me and once he told me what was going on, I grabbed my kit and got here as soon as I could.”
Harry just looked at him, trying to take in what he was saying, he couldn’t seem to focus on the words to make them make any sense to his addled brain, but he thought he saw the healer hand Kreacher a bagful of potions and an instructions sheet of some kind. They were talking too quietly for him to make out properly.
“Potions… yes this one… 3 times a day… Fever breaks… Come and get… Worse…” Harry was already slipping back into unconsciousness, feeling something cool and wet? Being placed on his forehead. It felt so good…
When he next woke up, it was dark outside and he still felt absolutely rotten. His pyjamas were sticking to him uncomfortably, his bedsheets were also twisted around him and his entire body was hurting.
Before he could call out for anyone, he felt his clothes changing, his bedsheets straightening and a gentle cleaning spell to get rid of the sweat. He couldn’t make out who was helping him, he didn’t really care either. Nothing was making sense to him in his current state.
Something was being pressed against his lips, he didn’t know what, he was starting to panic, when a voice broke through the haze urging him to just drink the potion and everything would be okay, he just had to drink the potion.
Harry could do that, he could drink the potion, anything to make it stop. He whimpered, his mouth opening slightly, a pained whimper coming out as the first few drops hit his tongue. It was disgusting and weakly, Harry tried to turn his head away.
The voice was back then, telling him just a little more and he could sleep, just a little more and everything would be okay. He whimpered again, opening his mouth obediently, letting a few more sips slide down his throat, the aches slowly disappearing as more and more of the potion made its way into his system.
It took a while before the vial was taken away and Harry was exhausted. His body slumped back against the pillows, eyes sliding fully closed as he sunk into peaceful oblivion.
The days blended together, one fading into another in a haze of potions fuelled sleep, interrupted only when he had to force down a few spoonfuls of broth and sips of water.
10 days he had been ill for, it didn’t feel like it had been, but according to Kreacher and his calendar, it had been. Harry didn’t remember much about this time, just the all encompassing pain and vague memories of Kreacher feeding him the potions the healer had given him.
It just didn’t feel real. He had never been that sick before, not even when he was a child had he ever been sick like that.
But he had had his magic when he was younger, McGregor had told him gently, to heal and stop the worst of the sickness before it developed. Now his magic was erratic, focusing on trying to contain the venom running rampant through his system, trying to futilely cure him that when he had had that infection, it had been attempting to protect his more vital organs like his brain, lungs and heart from giving out.
From what he had gathered, he had been on the brink of death more than once during those days he had been so sick, not that he remembered any of it truly. He was thankful for that.
It was Samhain now, All Hallows Eve or Halloween as it would be known in the muggle world. A day for remembering those that had been lost, the day the veil that separated the worlds of the living and the dead was at its weakest.
He had a tradition on this day and he had prepared his usual altar with things that reminded him of those he had lost.
A calla lily for his mother, a snitch for his father, a dungbomb for Fred and Sirius, a camera for Colin, for Tonks he had the most outlandish thing he could find that was full of colours which happened to be a soft cardigan that also represented Remus.
Harry’s hands now had a permanent tremble to them, but it didn’t discourage him. He refused Kreacher’s help in this, it was something he had to do for himself.
As dusk fell, Harry lit the candles on his makeshift altar, smiling sadly down at it. He used to have photos he would use for this purpose, but he had landed so suddenly in the past, that he had arrived with nothing but the clothes on his back and his wand. So the objects would just have to do along with his memories.
“Hi mum, hi dad… I don’t know if you know yet but I’m dying. I’m dying and I’m so scared of leaving everything behind. Orion and Abraxas, Lucretia and Arcturus… I’ll miss them all so much.” He picked up the lily, so delicate and fragile and cradled it against his chest.
“It hurts to keep going mum, sometimes I just want to give up and end it all now, but I know you wouldn’t want that for me, so I’ll fight on for however long I’ve got.” Harry lapsed into silence, blinking away tears as they came to him.
“They say death only hurts the living, you know, but I don’t believe that. Death hurts everyone in the end for those who are departing and those left behind. Even though it touches every single person on this earth in the end, it doesn’t make it easier to say goodbye.” His trembling hand lifted to wipe at the tears gathering under his glasses.
“I just wish I had had a bit more time on this planet, you know. I finally found the two men who made me realise what love truly is, even if they don’t want me, I’m glad I know them. It’ll hurt to leave them behind you know. Is this how you and dad felt when you protected me with your lives all those years ago? I hope it didn’t hurt, you know, your death. I hope none of you experienced pain in your final moments.” Harry placed the lily down on the table again, next to the snitch, where it belonged.
“They say death is as easy as falling asleep, one moment you’re there, the next you aren’t and I think that’s a bit comforting, at least I think it is. I haven’t given it much thought really… Isn’t that funny? I should have thought about it before now, but I haven’t.”
Gently, Harry moved his hands over each other the objects lovingly, as if he could feel their mere presence through them. Maybe he could, the veil was at its thinnest, or was it just wishful thinking on his part? It didn’t matter. It brought him comfort.
“Will you come to me? When I’m dying, you know? I don’t want to be alone when it happens. Will you be there to greet me? I’d love a hug from you and dad, and a hair ruffle from Sirius and Remus. I hope you come to me when it’s time. I don’t want to be alone.” The last part was said in a quiet whisper, as if no one was meant to hear it, and maybe they weren’t.
He sat in the silence of the night, until his candles had burned themselves out just after midnight and the start of All Saints Day.
In the quiet of his bed, just before he was about to drift off to sleep, he thought he felt a gentle hand brush through his hair and a whisper of a kiss on his brow.
Harry was once again sitting on his chair, looking out the window at the sleet falling from the sky. He had a blanket wrapped around his body with a thick jumper on and even still, he was cold.
He was always cold recently, however no matter how many warming charms Kreacher cast, he couldn’t stop the shivering. Harry had never felt this way before, but since the infection last month, he had been weaker than ever before. He had asked Kreacher afterwards what he had told Orion and Abraxas, fearing he had let the cat out of the bag in his worry. He hadn’t really needed to worry, according to the loyal elf, he had told the pair that he had caught dragon pox. It was a believable lie considering his muggle upbringing and not being given the vaccine when he had entered the magical world at 11 as he should have.
McGregor had been by once again to check up on him. This time however, he had left the pain potions with him ‘just in case’ he had needed them, privately, Harry thought that McGregor left them so that Harry himself wouldn’t feel embarrassed by having to ask to have them delivered.
He didn’t like feeling this weak and he could hardly feel his magic now, most of it turning inwards to try and protect the needed organs for his continued survival.
Speaking of McGregor, he was due in any minute now for a health scan to get a better idea of what, exactly, was going on.
“Good Afternoon, Harry, how are you feeling today?” Came the healers' ever chipper voice, even if he was sure some of it was forced for him.
“About as well as can be expected. It’s getting harder to get through the day without at least one general pain potion, and the bandage changes are almost unbearable as well.” He had learned to be totally honest with the healer, he would gladly sell his soul for any other kind of relief.
“Hmm, not unexpected, truly. How far have the blisters progressed now? When I checked last month after the infection, they had just gotten to your hips, correct?” Harry nodded sitting forward so McGregor could check his back and his respiration rate.
“They’ve advanced up my torso now, and the ones on my stomach have cracked open now as well. I’m pretty sure I have some on my shoulders and upper arms as well, but it’s harder to check those areas as lifting my arms now is nearly impossible without feeling like my shoulders are going to dislocate.” And wasn’t that an unexpected side effect neither of them had seen coming?
Turns out, the venom not only ate away at his skin and vital organs, but it also affected his bones as well. They should have known, but since most people who had been bitten by a basilisk died fairly soon after, or immediately, there was just not much information given regarding how the venom would affect harder structures such as bones.
Turns out, basilisk venom could dissolve bones from the marrow outwards. And yes, Harry could confirm, it was just as painful as it sounded.
McGregor hummed and continued with his wand waving and chanting, collecting the scrolls that gathered on the end of his as he fluidly moved from one set of scans to another, stacking them on a side until he was ready to read them properly.
“As you thought, Harry, the blisters have gone towards your arms and shoulders now. They haven’t broken open just yet, but as you know, they likely will within the next week. As for your bones, you’ve lost around 12% density and mass since your last scan which isn’t as much as I had feared. Your blood is slightly more acidic as well, but again that’s expected.” The healer continued to talk as Harry spaced out slightly until he felt a hand appear on his shoulder, shaking him out of his thoughts.
‘This can’t be good’ was Harry’s first thought, pulling his attention fully back to the healer who had taken a seat at his desk chair.
“I also took the liberty of scanning the functions of your heart, liver and kidneys. While your heart is still working at around 85% capacity, your liver function is down quite a bit at only 63%. Not quite dire straits yet, but I’d like to keep an eye on it and come back at the end of the month to re-scan so I can keep on top of it that way, I can have the potions ready to help flush the toxins out of your system before it gets below 50%.”
Harry should have felt more shocked at the news, instead he just resigned himself to more potions to keep his body at least semi-functional.
“Your lung function is also down a bit, but unfortunately there’s not much I can do to alleviate that problem except suggest some kind of bubble-head charm as you sleep to increase the oxygen saturation.” McGregor was writing down the notes in his ever present clipboard to be filed once he got back to his office.
“Your kidneys are still in remarkably good shape so that’s one less problem we have to worry about currently.”
Harry was happy when the deluge of information was finally over and he could relax again. Even this short visit had left him exhausted and about ready to fall asleep, he wasn’t up for much company nowadays, even Kreacher just sat by him silently when he wasn’t required anywhere else in the household.
He would truthfully be lost without him, he was the one who scheduled McGregor’s visits, avoiding times when he knew both Orion and Abraxas would be out and not due to come back anytime soon so he could have his peace to recover.
Harry had also stopped asking for a timeline of when he would die. The answer was always the same regardless of however many scans he had cast on him. McGregor wouldn’t know until maybe a couple weeks at most before he died. Too much could change suddenly, he had been told, and the Healer refused to let Harry get his hopes up only to shatter them later on if the date moved up, or if his condition worsened suddenly.
Harry just wanted to make it to the second week of December, Arcturus’ (Orion’s father’s) birthday was on the 12th and he wanted to wish him a happy birthday in person. Arcturus had been the first person in this time, bar his soulmates, to fully accept him as part of the family. He had treated Harry like an actual person instead of just an anomaly of time, heck Arcturus had even offered to pass any information on how exactly Harry had ended up here from his own time. The man had many connections and more ways to look into the situation. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to uncover much. It seemed like Harry stepping through time was nothing but a fluke of luck and fate.
Not that it really mattered now after all. Hopefully his checkup in 3 weeks time would give him some more answers instead of just questions.
The end of November was always an exciting time. Muggles preparing for a Christmas celebration now that their World War had ended, wizards getting ready for Yule and the season's feelings starting to invade those young and old regardless of social class or blood status.
Harry wasn’t feeling much of that joy at the moment, he had been bed bound for the past two days, his body not being able to be in motion for long without the risk of the bandages soaking through with blood.
Kreacher had run interference with Orion and Abraxas on the bi-weekly rare moments that they actually remembered he was living in the same house as them.
Harry hadn’t asked what Kreacher was telling them, it didn’t really matter in the long run, he just had to make it a couple more weeks and then it wouldn’t matter what would happen.
McGregor had been by to see him again, as he said he would on the 26th. Luckily it had been a day both Orion and Abraxas had been occupied and hadn’t noticed the healer entering.
They had noticed him leaving however and Kreacher had informed them it was just to make sure he was recovering well from the dragon pox. According to the little elf, they had merely shrugged and bid McGregor goodbye.
It still stung, however, that they weren’t the least bit curious about why he stopped attending meals in the dining room with them or had declined any invitations from his friends to go out and have dinner, or to just simply hang out. He gave the excuse that he was swamped in parchmentwork because of the new regime he was still being hassled over.
Which reminded him…
“Kreacher? Do you think you’ll be free for a couple of hours? There are some things I’d like to discuss as to what I would like to happen to my… body, once I pass,” and wow, Harry thought, that was an uncomfortable thing to say out loud.
“Can good little master be giving Kreacher an hour? Then Kreacher will be able to being free for good little master.” Harry shook his head fondly and nodded to Kreacher, watching him as he popped away.
During that hour, Harry lay back against his pillows, trying to decide what he did want people to do with his body; he knew he wouldn’t be buried in Godric’s Hollow, at least not until his parents died in the future.
He was carefully ignoring the small voice in the back of his that was whispering things like what if you didn’t just step through time, but into a whole new dimension? And what if you changed things so much, they didn’t die in October of 81? He would not think of those thoughts.
He simply refused to acknowledge they were there.
Cremation? It did have its benefits, he supposed. With Orion and Abraxas aware of where and when he came from and most of his background, they could make sure he would be buried with his mum and dad when the time came, even if it was just scattering his ashes at their graveside.
It was really the only option he could think of, aside from having his body put in some kind of status, which he baulked at the idea of, so cremation it was.
He wasn’t exactly happy… with the choice, considering he had bad memories associated with it, but he would be dead and wouldn’t actually feel it, so he could live with the choice.
Harry thought that if Orion and Abraxas had fully embraced him, as they had each other and they truly lived as a three way, soul bound trio, he’d want some of his ashes to remain with them, but he doubted they’d like to have him hanging around, even in the form of ashes, for longer than absolutely necessary.
It didn’t matter, not really. He’d be dead anyway, even if they decided to throw his ashes right after he was cremated, it wouldn’t truly affect him. Maybe he could ask Kreacher to hold onto him? The little guy was stubborn enough to see his master's last wishes be realised. Harry remembered what happened to Regulus and how long Kreacher had held onto that damnable locket before it had been stolen by the crook Mundungus.
Harry snickered to himself, wondering if he could ask Kreacher to kick Dumbledore in the balls if he ever met him in the future? Even if he didn’t, the thought still made him laugh, until a coughing fit took over and he had to grab one of the handkerchiefs he kept within reach.
It was stained a deep brown-red colour when he moved it away from his mouth, once the fit had passed.
‘Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it.’ He chanted mentally, making sure to move it out of his sight when he was done.
He couldn’t look at it.
He didn’t want to see the evidence of his body giving up on its fight for life. Even though he knew it was.
So he waited, quietly now, for Kreacher to pop back into his room so he could discuss his funeral plans and last wishes.
December brought with it even colder temperatures and the first dusting of proper snow had fallen at some point during the night, bringing a cold, clear day.
Already Harry could hear the unmistakable high pitched shrieks of delight that could only be produced by kids having fun with all the joys that only a snow day could elicit.
He could still remember his Christmases at Hogwarts. Fred and George enchanting snowballs to follow Quirrel around and hitting him on the back of his head over the turb… Wait, hadn't that been Voldemort there? How had he not realised sooner?! It made him love the twins even more than he already did. Days spent in front of the crackling fire in the common room, roasting marshmallows on conjured sticks. His fondest memory of Christmas however, was the time he and Ron had gotten into a prank war with the other 4th years at the time.
He was grinning just remembering, by the end of the holidays most of the students staying behind in Gryffindor during the TriWizard Tournament had been pulled into the war, only ending it the day before classes resumed by the fact that all of them were laughing too hard to continue on.
It was the closest he had even been to his other dorm-mates, the next year had been hellish with the daily prophet smearing his name and most of the castle either hating him, ignoring him, or just outright making his life as difficult as possible. 6th year hadn’t been much better and he wasn’t in the school at all for his 7th.
There had been no time after the war had finished to reconnect with any of them. He didn’t even know if he would have been able to connect with them, he had seen too much.
Then he had landed in the past, not long after his 18th birthday.
He felt bad now, only realising that this was the first time he had thought of them for years. He hoped they were doing well, even without him being there.
Maybe he’d made sure some of their relatives would survive the war that was brewing, even now.
Neville deserved to know his parents for real, not just empty husks locked up in a hospital.
Harry had met Augusta Longbottom once in this timeline, and he hadn’t exactly been impressed with her slightly overbearing ways and refusal to see that anything other than Gryffindor was an appropriate house, no matter how much he had argued in each house's defence.
She was set far too firmly in that Gryffindor was superior.
He had tried at least, that was really all he could offer his old friends now. Try to make the future a little less torn than it had been in the original time-line.
Harry was glad, however, that he hadn’t come across Riddle. He was only a couple of years younger than Orion and Abraxas, and he wasn’t sure how he would have reacted had he come face to face with the budding Dark Lord, nothing good anyway.
Orion in particular had argued against just sneaking into the bastard's home and killing him before he could become a true threat. At first he hadn’t liked that at all, he was all for ending the war before it could even start, but Orion had been right in his arguments, Hermione’s words during third year coming back to him
“Bad things happen to people who mess with time, Harry.”
And he was already messing with time just by his presence here, he had to let things unfold the way they would irregardless of how he felt about it.
It didn’t stop him from trying to make sure the narcissistic, self-absorbed prick didn’t have an easy time when he inevitably tried to take over the government, however. Harry thought viciously. He might not be able to kill him here, but he could make Riddles’ life as hard as he damn well pleased. Time-line be damned.
If nothing else, it made him grin at the thought that the old snake-face would come up against a much more competent group of aurors than he had before.
If Abbott got his head out of his arse first, anyway.
For now however, Harry was tired again. He was always tired now. He decided to take a nap in bed before Kreacher came with his potions again at lunch time. It was Arcturus’ birthday in 2 days and he wanted to be able to at least greet the man before his body succumbed to exhaustion again.
It was Arcturus’ birthday today, and Harry felt like utter crap. His muscles were going into spasm and his very core felt exhausted.
Why couldn’t he have been alright? Just for today. He had to see Arcturus, it was his last chance to thank the man for all the help he had given Harry when he found himself in the past! He had to make sure he saw Arcturus, at least once, today.
So he tried to plan, it wasn’t his strong suit, he knew but it was important to him so he would do it.
When an idea appeared, he quickly called for Kreacher.
“Is little master being ok?” It was a standard question the loyal elf asked him every morning now, ever since his health truly started to deteriorate, concern laced into every ounce of the tiny body.
“As well as I can be, considering everything.” He tried to smile at Kreacher, but felt it came off as more of a grimace than a smile.
“I need your help today. It’s Arcturus’ birthday and I need to see him. It’s my last chance to be able to. Can you work some magic so it looks like I just have a bad case of the flu? I wouldn’t ask, but this is important to me. I need to thank him for all the help he gave me in my first year here.” Harry looked pleadingly towards Kreacher, on the verge of begging him to please just go with it.
“Kreacher can be trying for good little master, but Kreacher doesn’t know how long his magics will be staying in place.” Of course Kreacher was fretting over not getting the illusion to stick for long, but Harry was just grateful that he was at least willing to try.
“It only needs to last 5, maybe 10 minutes at most, Kreacher. Just set it before Arcturus enters my room, and it should, hopefully, last just long enough.”
With one last nod, Kreacher popped out to finish preparing for the celebration ahead and to subtly let the others in the house know that Harry would not be making an appearance downstairs due to him not wanting to pass the ‘flu’ to anyone else.
Harry sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned back, glad he’d be able to say a proper goodbye that was wrapped up in a more cheerful package.
It was all he could do when his body wouldn’t listen to his commands. He just hoped it would be enough.
It would just have to.
A few hours had passed since then and Harry was dozing off and on fitfully, not able to truly rest properly due to the pain, when a soft knock sounded at his door.
He was further disturbed by Kreacher popping in and waving his hands, nodding that the magic had taken before popping out again.
“Come in, Arcturus,” Harry called, hoping the illusion had taken hold and he just looked under the weather with the wizard flu.
“Good afternoon, Harry, I hope I’m not disturbing your rest? Kreacher told us that you had taken ill with the wizards flu.” The man was tall, taller than Orion, and his greying hair was tied in a neat tail at the small of neck to keep it out of his face.
“No no, I’ve not long woken up from a nap and Kreacher’s already made sure I drank a half measure of pepper-up. I know it doesn’t do much against the wizard flu, but it helps with the fever and chills.” There was just something about Arcturus that Harry felt comfortable around, he was the grandfather figure he so desperately wanted growing up. For all Dumbledore tried, he could never quite hide that there was something… off about the man’s act.
“Not to worry, lad. It gets us all a time or two.” The man chuckled, settling down in the chair that had been placed next to his bed, relaxing more than he usually did when non-family members were around.
“Well, I had Kreacher ask you to come and see me so I could wish you a happy birthday in person. It just isn’t the same doing it through a letter or a floo-call.” He grinned at the man, who had a spark of amusem*nt dancing in his eyes.
“No, it really isn't, is it? But thank you for birthday wishes, lad. There was no need, especially since it’s easy to see you’ve been ill for a couple of days now”
Silence hung in the air for a moment, making Harry twitch slightly in apprehension. He could tell Arcturus didn’t believe he had only been sick for a couple of days now, he didn’t know how Arcturus could know, but the man was extremely observant of everyone in his life.
Thankfully for Harry, he knew Arcturus was too polite to actually ask him outright… without proof anyway.
“Oh! I just remembered I got you this. It’s a token of my thanks, as Heir to the House of Potter, to you, the Lord of House Black.” Harry held out the simply wrapped gift that was no bigger than the size of the palm of his hand.
He knew wording it the way he did, that Arcturus would have to accept the gift in the spirit that it was offered as Heir Potter. It would give his mind some rest knowing the man was protected this way as in his time, he and his wife had been poisoned by one of his allies that needed Arcturus out of the way.
“Thank you, Heir Potter. As Lord Black, I accept the gift in the spirit that it was offered.” With the formalities out of the way, Harry relaxed back, smiling as the older man opened the box.
“It’s a matching set of rings, one for you and Lady Black — Melania, that will sent a small stinging hex up your arms if you come into contact with poison, it’ll also alert you to the presence of mind-altering spells, potions or curses that are inlaid against any gift. Promise me to wear them always, it’s too dangerous now to be without that kind of protection”
Harry shuffled nervously on his bed, watching Arcturus’ face as he carefully examined the gift, before sliding the men’s ring onto one of his fingers.
“Thank you, Harry. I can’t explain how much this means to me. As for thanks, there’s no need. You are our son's soulmate. It doesn’t matter where or when you come from, you will always have a place within the house of Black.” Arcturus’ hand was placed gently on his shoulder, Harry had to bite back a hiss of pain as he smiled up to the older man in gratitude, tears welling slightly in his eyes.
“Thank you. That means a lot to me. I have one more gift for you, this time a simple birthday one. Sadly it hasn’t been finished yet, but it should be delivered to Castle Black before the week is out. It’s a quill that’s been enchanted to let you know if anyone is entering a contract with House Black under false pretences. It will also emit a red glow, that only you or other members of your family can see, if the person holding it has any ill intent to you and yours.” Harry had to grin at the man’s expression, it was slightly comical.
“Thank you, but you didn’t have to, lad. One of them would have been enough. Ach, well, it’s a bit too late now so I shall simply say thank you for such thoughtful and well meaning gifts. I shall treasure them for as long as I stay alive. For now however, I think I best head back and leave you to your rest. You’re looking very tired now.” Arcturus stood, waving his wand to send the chair back to where it came from.
Just before he left Harry’s room, Arcturus turned back and gave him one last scrutinising look.
“Are you sure it’s just the wizards flu?” Harry panicked, he knew Arcturus would pick up on something… not being quite right.
“Yes, just a nasty case of it unfortunately. The healer thinks it’s so bad because I had the dragon pox back in October and my system hadn’t fully recovered.” Harry prayed to every deity that may exist that he believed his excuse. Harry didn’t want the man to know he was actually dying.
“Alright, Harry. Write to me once you’re feeling better, yes? It’s been far too long since you visited the castle and Lucretia misses you.”
With that, and a last chuckle, Arcturus left and Harry collapsed back into his bed.
He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep. That had been a lot harder than he had expected it to be, he wouldn’t be able to go through it again.
He had made the right choice not telling anyone but Kreacher what was actually happening to him.
So, Harry simply closed his eyes, not noticing the tears that had dripped from his closed lashes.
It was done and he had survived his goodbye with only some minor suspicion from Arcturus.
Now? Now he could die in peace, the last thing he wished to do had been done.
But for the time being, he needed to rest. Whatever happened from here, he could deal with it in time when it happened.
Kreacher was pissed, Harry could tell that much, even if he couldn’t tell what about. It was such an unusual sight for the normally cheerful little guy that Harry worried.
“Kreacher?” Harry wheezed out, his breath coming in harsher gurgles that sounded from deep within his chest.
It was getting harder to breathe now in just the week that followed Arcturus birthday, Harry was aware that he didn’t have much time left in this world.
“It is being okay good little master. Masters Black and Malfoy is being going to the Black House in Italy and is telling Kreacher he is to be watching this house whilst they is gone.” If it was possible, Kreacher’s face scowled harder.
Also, when had Kreacher started calling Orion and Abraxas, Masters Black and Malfoy? He couldn’t recall a time when they had been anything but Master Sunshine and Master Starlight.
Not that he could think on it for long, not when the little elf had popped in with some water that was slowly being held up to his mouth so he could sip at it through the straw at regular intervals, Kreacher was hell bent on keeping his fluid levels up now that he could no longer tolerate solid foods.
According to McGregor, it was part of the dying process. His body was shutting down and not feeling hunger or needing food as often or at all as his digestion system slowly shut down.
Harry was tired, he was now in the active part of the dying process. It could last from anywhere to a few days, to a few weeks according to the pamphlet that McGregor had left with him the last time he had come to check his condition.
It was both terrifying and strangely reliving to be nearing the end of this journey, he mused, shaking his head absently when Kreacher offered him more water from the glass.
His body just hurt all the time now. Constantly and all over. The blisters had taken over almost 80% of his body, he hadn’t even bothered with the bandages anymore, he simply had Kreacher place soft cotton towels underneath his back and legs, it took too much time to wrap them properly especially now that all over them were opening and constantly weeping blood.
And it wasn’t just the blisters weeping anymore. His skin was starting to open up around his joints, creating large fissures on his legs and arms that would scab over before the scabs would fall off and they would bleed harder and open deeper than they were before.
Each day that passed by now was like a blessing. It gave him more time to talk to Kreacher, thank him for being with him at every step on this journey and how much it meant to Harry, personally, that he hadn’t left him alone.
It was strange now, with Orion and Abraxas being gone from the house. Kreacher had immediately moved into his room so he could stay by his side through his final days, his mind was starting to get confused between the times of day and when and where he was.
The first time it happened, it had only been for something minor, just forgetting if he had taken his potions, or where he had placed his own copy of his will.
Then it got worse to the point he was forgetting faces or entire conversations, whole memories just slipping out of his reach.
Harry was trying not to panic about the blank spots that got larger every day, soon he wouldn’t even remember who he was. That was okay, Kreacher kept him correct on most things, or stopped him from getting out of bed on his worst days, thinking he had to go to the ministry for work.
It was taking more and more energy for Harry to remain awake and semi-coherent now. Kreacher had been fretting more as well, being more insistent that he drink water and eat whatever food he could manage which was meagre at best.
His body was just done fighting now. He could feel his heart rate getting steadily more erratic, sometimes going too fast, other times beating slowly as if to emphasise his end would come at a moment's notice. The world was also starting to grey out around the edges with his skin turning decidedly more white-yellow hued than when his body was healthy and deeply bronzed.
When had he last seen the sun? Or felt the wind ruffling his hair? He couldn’t remember. Actually where was he? This wasn’t Hogwarts? Oh. That’s right, he was in Grimmauld place. Sirius would be bursting in the door any moment now to wake him up by fleeing from… from… that ginger haired lady because he had swapped the labels on all her ingredients.
“Go ‘way. Sirius, m’ tired. Don’ wanna be dragged into your mess already,” Harry slurred out, trying to burrow deeper into the blankets on his bed.
“Noooo don’ care, go way, I’ll eat in a while.” He was trying to ineffectively bat the annoying hands away, he was so tired damnit.
“…good little master it is being time for water now.” A stern, high pitched squeak broke through the fog in his mind and with the fog being banished, even if only slightly, the spectre of Sirius was slowly replaced with that of an elf.
“…Kreacher?” Harry rasped, vision clearing slightly more.
“Where’s Sirius? He was here a minute ago? Did you send him downstairs?” He ignored, or simply didn’t process the confusion the little guy was wearing, shaking, reaching out to attempt to take the glass from him.
“Kreacher is being sending… Sirius to go downstairs. Good little master is still being sick and Kreacher is not wanting little master to be spreading it to his Sirius.”
Harry furrowed his brows, confusion clear in his face before he just shrugged and nodded and drank a few sips of water, laying back down. When had he sat up?
“Kreacher? What day is it?” He asked, he was already tired again. Maybe he was sick? He certainly felt sick, it would make sense that he’d be away from the others at the minute.
“It is being the 23rd of December little master.” The 23rd?! Christmas was coming up. Had he done his shopping for his friends and family? He couldn’t if he had been sick!
“Kreacher! I need you to go to Diagon Alley to get Christmas gifts for me. Take my key. Chocolate for Ron will work, Hermione likes books…” he continued to ramble on, not seeing that the elf was simply nodding along to his words, agreeing. “Something for Ori and Brax as well...” Was added just before he stopped, groaning in pain as his vocal chord went into a spasm.
“Kreacher will be going for good little master, but only if little master is be lying back down and promises his Kreacher that he is be going to nap.” Nodding frantically, Harry pulled the duvet and blankets up against his body again, sighing happily when the warming charm imbued in them began working and drifting off to sleep again.
December 23rd slid into December 24th without much fanfare, Harry had slept almost all day of the 23rd, only waking up every so often with the persistence of Kreacher shaking him to sip at some water. It was getting harder to rouse up now.
His body was fighting his end with everything it had, but it was a failing mission. Even now he could feel his heart struggling to pump the blood throughout his system, the pronounced thadump-thadump-thadump was becoming more erratic as the day slipped him by in a haze of hallucinations, dreams, Kreacher and babbling.
Nothing could stop the end that was coming for him, but for Harry, he was simply oblivious to it all now. He was content. He was warm, but there was just… Something was missing. He couldn’t figure out what was missing, and it was making him feel erratic, like there was a thin thread in his body that connected him to others who aren't present or near.
It was like a tugging sensation, one that was trying to urge him to go somewhere, or bring someone or something to him. The feeling was growing with every hour that passed, making him restless. Whatever the thread was, it was pulsing slowly, in conjunction with his heart rate. What was it? Was it trying to warn whoever was at the other end of the thread that something was wrong? He didn’t know what it was trying to urge him. or someone else, to do.
All he could do was try to push the discomforting sensation away, too tired to truly focus on it.
“K... Kreacher?” He called out, his eyes wide and almost unseeing, he needed something.
“What can Kreacher be doing for good little master?” The elf was wringing his hands together, his ears were dropped down low on his head, feet shifting in his anxiety.
“I… I need…. Ori, Brax...” His voice was hoarse, the venom affecting every part of his body now, coursing through his veins like molten metal, scorching and burning anything it touched on its mad dash through with every beat of his heart.
“They is not being here little master” Kreacher replied, sounding strained, not knowing what to do to help his good, kind young master. Harry was almost looking through him now.
“I need… I need… Something. Theirs-” His body was wearing quickly, he heard Kreacher pop out and a second later, popping back in holding something in each of his hands.
“I have fetched good little master his soulmates favourite clothes.”
Harry felt a soft silken shirt being wrapped over his shoulder, the scent of Orion encompassing him in the smells of the woods. A sigh escaped from his lips, some of the tension bleeding out of his body at the familiar smells.
Then he felt a warm, soft jumper being placed against his face, the scent of Abraxas mingling with that of Orion’s, where Orion smelled like the woods, Abraxas smelled like the foam of the sea, of sand being baked under the summer sun.
It was perfect. This was what he needed right now. The thrumming of the thread in his chest eased slightly, but was still there, persistent in its almost warning thrum.
Thadump
His heart was slowing now. Where were they? They were supposed to be here now.
“Kr…Kreacher… whe… where are they?” His voice was fading and distant, the world slowly going black around the edges
Thadump
“They is coming little master, just a moment and they is being here.”
Thadump
“G.. g… good...” More black, more insistent pulling from the thread.
Thadump
He heard his door open, his body too weak to move but he felt hands pressing into his hair, wiping it away from his eyes and two pairs of lips pressing against his forehead
“I.. I knew you’d come...”
Thadump
They had made it, the world was closing down further. In the distance, he slowly heard the bells tolling midnight, signifying that Christmas Day had begun
Thadump-Thadump-Thadum…
Harry breathed his last just as the bells tolled its last, dying with his love’s clothes clutched in his arms, head burrowed deeply in the cloth with the illusion of his two most treasured people around. Not knowing that he was alone with only an elf for comfort.
He was finally at peace.
It was over. His little master was done being in pain and Kreacher was heartbroken.
He did his best to clean his good little master up, closing his eyes and laying him more comfortably on the bed.
It was over.
