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Waking up	By : Pegasus Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 2782 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the Harry Potter characters. I gain nothing from publishing this, no money, no fame, no fortunes.

Chapter List
- 7
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Over the next few weeks he went back there regularly. They had tea or went down to sit by the water’s edge, or just enjoyed some sunshine in the sheltered garden. Sometimes he accompanied her into town and they walked by the seafront or went to have tea in one of the little cafés. Sophie enjoyed his presence and was always pleased to see him, greeting him with her warm smiles.
He enjoyed the easy way with which he could talk to her. There were no expectations involved and she never asked him questions about his personal life after he had made it clear once that he wasn’t going to partake in this topic. If this bothered her she wasn’t showing it. She accepted him even on the days when his moods were a bit darker than usual and sometimes just sat with him while he silently contemplated his fate. It was as if he had found a safe haven in her company that allowed him to be himself without having to justify himself and without being constantly reminded of his guilt and his past. With her he felt just like he imagined any other man felt. Every other person that had not done what he had done or seen what he had seen. At first he had gone down every third day, then every second day and soon he went there every afternoon. He was surprised it wasn’t affecting his potions work. Actually it was quite to the contrary. He was more productive and could only explain it to himself by deciding he was more concentrated and spent less time brooding.
Sophie’s situation was unchanged for quite a while but at the end of the month he noticed that she was less willing to walk down to the water and grew slimmer than she was already.
Another week later he came for their usual afternoon appointment and found her in her customary armchair by the fire.
He was just about to greet her when he noticed that she was sleeping. He turned and walked back out not wanting to disturb her and met her mother in the hallway.
“She is sleeping, I will come back later.”
“She has been sleeping all day. Yesterday the only time she was awake was when you were here.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“She likes you a lot.”
He was slightly embarrassed by that statement. But he noticed how she looked down and her eyes started to mist over.
“It won’t be much longer now.”
“What do you mean?”
She looked up at him surprised.
“You know that she is leaving.” She couldn’t bring herself to say “dying”.
“Yes, but didn’t they say it would take months?”
“No, weeks. And those weeks have past faster with every day and now there is not much left.”
He looked at her speechlessly and open mouthed. He couldn’t think of what to say.Turning he left the house and went back up to his house, the further he got the faster he walked. Blindly, without realising it, he was standing in his small kitchen leaning on the work surface and breathing hard. She was dying. He had known it. Of course he had known it. But somehow it had seemed abstract and far away. He had forgotten about it. No, he had consciously ignored it. And now it had become real again. She would be gone.
No more afternoon teas, no more sitting quietly by the sea, no more walks through town and exchanging funny comments on all the different people that could be viewed there, no more meaningless chatter about this and that, no more feeling welcome and accepted, no more smiles. It would all be gone. It would all be like it had been before she came. And that’s what he had wanted, right? That’s what he had accepted would happen once she was gone, right? Right? Yes, he would go back to working in his garden, picking his ingredients and brewing his potions. He would busy and … alone.
He went to the cupboard and got out a bottle of whiskey. He hadn’t done that in quite a while. Over in his sitting room he opened the bottle slumping down in his armchair and not even bothering with a glass.
The next morning brought storm and a gigantic headache. He really wasn’t used to this anymore. In his still sleepy mind he had forgotten the reason for his overindulgence but once in the shower it all came back to him. She would leave him. And she had no idea that he was just shedding tears about it. In the shower he could fool himself and pretend it was just the water that was wet on his face. When he came out he dried himself off and went back to the kitchen to put on the kettle. He fought down the feelings that were trying to come to the surface. The feelings of loss, of betrayal, of loneliness and the memory of grief. He fought and tried to distract himself with executing his everyday tasks for the preparation of his breakfast.
He sat down at the table when he was done and stared down into his plate. He really didn’t feel like eating. In fact he felt slightly sick just looking at his meal.
She would be gone. And he would be alone again. He knew he couldn’t run aways from these facts. It was going to happen. If she was a witch it would be different, then she would live, there would be help for her at St Mungos. But then again they would have never began their… “friendship” or however it should be called. He left his breakfast untouched and went to his lab trying to concentrate on his brewing but still mulling over possible solutions to his problem in the back of his mind. The solutions always came back to the question of how much this relationship meant to him and how much was he willing to give?
And by the afternoon, when the time for his usual visit was approaching, he felt another question needed to be answered: would he be able to sit by and watch her die? Would he be able to accept that this was the natural order of things and therefore he had to let her go because she was a muggle and as such not entitled to the help his world could give?
He sat down on his lab chair and crumbled, his face hidden in his hands. He knew he would not be able to do that. Too much death and destruction had already been thrown his way and he could not stand another one. He resolved to take the only possible path that was open to him now, the only way he would be able to preserve his fragile self: he would end all contact with the family and not go down again. He would view this episode as a welcome distraction from his otherwise lonely existence not to be repeated but to be thankful for. And he would let nature take its course. He knew he was a man of his word. And it made him sad. But he didn’t have the courage for more and he needed to protect himself. With these thoughts he sat with his face in his hands and hidden tears running down into them. It was better this way.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Waking up