Empty Spaces

Chapter 51

"Ironbark knew Draco was staying at the Manor," Harry recalled, "He was taking Draco's reports at the law enforcement office. I saw him..."

"I wonder what leverage Lucius held over him to make Ironbark willingly go to Azkaban like that..." Hermione mused.

"Who the hell knows," Harry shrugged, "But I'm probably about to find out..." He showed Hermione his Ministry summons.

"Already...? They need you there tonight??" she asked in disbelief.

"The sooner I show up, the sooner I can leave," Harry pointed out. He'd learned how to deal with this crap last summer. "Can you do me a favor, though? If Draco comes back tonight, can you let him know where I am?"

"Why can't you just tell him yourself?" Hermione asked, getting suspicious.

"I..." I fucked up so badly that there's a chance he'll never want to talk to me again?

"Alright, fine, yes, if he comes back, I'll let him know," Hermione surrendered. "How's the shoulder? Please tell me you at least had it looked at or something..."

"It's fine," Harry dismissed, heading out the door and ignoring Hermione's raised eyebrow. He would go out through the back entrance and apparate directly into London, quick and easy, just in and out. Depending on what they wanted, he could be back before sunrise...

The moment he apparated, he felt it– a tearing in his shoulder followed by a searing pain– and suddenly, his simple and brilliant plan turned into an incredibly stupid one. But it was too late to go back now; all he could do was hope he was going to show up at the Ministry in one piece. There was pain up and down his entire right side; pain and regret and anger... And then there was nothing.

Harry thought he knew what death felt like– after all, he had technically died before– but in the dark and empty space, he realized he had no idea. Is this what it feels like to truly go?

If that's the case, what an stupid way to do it. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, killed by his own stubbornness and idiocracy.

There's no Voldemort this time. No curses. Nothing and no one you can blame except yourself. You could have done the sensible thing; you could have walked downstairs, gone through the bar and to the fireplace and done this by Floo Powder. Except that would have involved walking right past Draco and Aberforth. Even if you used the cloak, it would have been awkward because they were talking right by the fireplace so you avoided it and look where it brought you instead.

There was a tingling in his shoulder, a tingling that was quickly becoming pain, and Harry began to feel the fight inside that could only mean one thing.

Not dead. Not yet. Fight. You can do this. If you manage to come out of this alive, you're going to do better. Not just for Draco. For yourself. No more avoiding the difficult conversations. No more hiding. No more secrets. No more Past Harry versus Present Harry. It's not a competition over which Harry is the better Harry. What does that even mean anyway? No. You get out of this, and you will live the life you want to live. The life you deserve. This goes beyond Draco or Hermione or anyone... You don't learn to love yourself, there is no loving ANYONE else. So you WILL get your shit together, you WON'T die, and you WILL. DO. BETTER.

Pain... pain in his shoulder, pain shooting down his arm and down his back and pain when he breathed. Then he could hear someone moving around. And light. The Ministry wasn't this bright... where did he end up...?

"Ah, there you are," a voice said. Someone gently placed his glasses on his face and the world finally came back into focus. "And now that you're awake... Harry! What happened to come straight to me if you notice any symptoms???"

Sachi Yamamoto towered over him, a flask in one hand and her wand in the other, looking equal parts relieved and furious.

"Wait... what...?" Harry blinked his eyes, adjusting to the brightness of the room.

"Apparition Safety 101, Harry! You can't apparate with any sort of injury, it increases your chances of splinching yourself by up to 80 percent, depending on the severity of your wound!"

"Er..." Harry's mouth felt dry, like it was filled with cotton, and forming words was infuriatingly difficult.

"Look, I'm just glad you're okay," Sachi said, clearly swallowing her desire to continue her lecture, "You've splinched a good amount of your right side and lost a lot of blood– you should've heard the distress calls we received from the Ministry when you showed up half-dead at their doorstep, we must have gotten eight different Patronuses within two minutes– but you'll be fine. You'll have to stay here for a day or two, though, keep getting blood replenishing potions in you and make sure nothing reopens... T hink you can sit up to drink this? I'll help you, and please don't open any of your new skin, I worked hard on that..."

Harry let Sachi help him up into a sitting position; she conjured the softest pillows he'd ever felt in his entire life and helped him lean up against them.

"That's okay?" she asked, "You have to be honest with me, otherwise I'm taking off the robes and the dressings and checking for myself."

"Yeah, it– it's fine," Harry said, taking the flask with his good arm and starting to drink. The taste left something to be desired, but it was cool and soothing in his mouth and on his dry throat. Better, do better. "I mean, I can't move my entire right side without shooting pain, but I guess all I have to do is not... move it...?"

"Spot on," Sachi nodded her approval, "Alright, I'm going to ask you again and I need another honest answer. Did you sustain ANY other injuries tonight? If you so much as stubbed your toe while walking up the stairs, now is the time to tell me."

Harry couldn't help smiling. Do better.

"No, just my shoulder, and that's the truth. The whole truth," he said. See? You can do this.

Harry's fleeting moment of self-satisfaction was interrupted by two Ministry workers striding into the room, parchment and quills at the ready.

"Mister Potter! So good to see you all in one piece!" the first one announced, " You gave us quite a fright. Right then, we were going to do this in the courtrooms, but this is good enough..."

"Excuse me, this is a hospital!" Sachi fumed.

"As we are well aware," the second one replied, "And seeing as Mister Potter is in no condition to go anywhere anytime soon, we'll have to get his statement here. Now, Mister Potter, can you please describe to us any and all interactions you have had with one Blair Ironbark..."

Do better... even if it's just for the goddamn Ministry. Open. Honest. Don't do it because it's what other people expect of you and don't do it because it'll make them shut up. Do it for you. Because you can make a difference in someone's life. Did Ironbark make some wrong choices? Yes. But we all do. The world isn't split into "good" people and "bad" people. You've seen it yourself. Desperate people make desperate choices. It's a problem with no simple solution, no easy fixes, and that's not something you can fix on your own, but what you CAN do is give information. And then it's out of your hands, but That. Is. Okay.

So Harry answered the questions as best he could until the room started spinning, or maybe the room would have done that anyway; spots began appearing in his peripheral vision and everyone's faces started fading in and out of focus.

Do better. Not for them. For you.

"Hey... sorry– er– Sachi?"

"Harry? You okay? You're looking pale again," she prompted gently.

Harry didn't think he had ever in his life told anyone outright that he didn't feel well. How the hell does one even go about doing that??? At the Dursleys, he'd learned early on that it was simply easier to hide any ailments that expect sympathy or help; it was a skill that served him well later on during the war and again in the aftermath of it. But there was no need for that anymore. Time to move on. Time to do better.

In the end, he was saved by Sachi, shooing the Ministry workers out of the room before making Harry take another dose of potion and then the darkness folded in once more.

Do better. Not for anyone else. For yourself. Because you won't be able to love anyone else if you can't learn to love yourself first.