Corben hurried through the large Ministry corridors, a growing worry settling inside his chest.
He'd gone into the Auror office during lunch break but Harry hadn't been there. He did find Ron, who had expressed his concern and said that Harry has been skipping work frequently lately and would Corben go and check on him?
Corben promised that he would, of course, and returned to the training hall to continue practising his defensive spells.
Thankfully, he was able to leave earlier than usual. They did not have a fixed time for their training. Instead, Audra decided when they could leave depending on their progress. Corben, being moderately good at shooting spells was allowed to depart for the day with a humongous amount of homework.
When he reached Harry's apartment, he hesitated for a minute. They had parted on rather unfriendly terms yesterday, with Corben storming off with a twisted ankle and Harry calling for him from behind. Corben would have felt bad about it afterwards had he not been distracted by the news that Blaise brought him - that Theo had left.
But he felt ashamed now. What he had done was stupid. Harry had only wanted to give him a good experience. So what if he was slightly misinformed about what constituted a good day in Corben's books? He was still learning. They both were.
Corben rubbed his foot on the floor. His ankle didn't hurt. Last night, he had felt a sharp pain when going to bed, but he'd woken in the morning with a foot as good as new. Still, he felt slight discomfort and he wasn't applying as much pressure on the foot. He raised a fist and rang the doorbell.
There didn't seem to be anyone inside. There was no sound of someone moving and the peephole showed only darkness. He shuffled, worry gnawing at his chest. He rang again and also knocked for good measure. This time, he heard Harry's voice, distant and fatigued. "Hold on," it said.
Relief swept through Corben as he stepped back. The light turned on inside as Harry opened the door. He blinked at Corben like he was having difficulty seeing him. When he finally recognised him, he said, "Oh, hi."
"You didn't go to work today."
Harry stepped aside to let Corben enter. "Glad you noticed."
Once they were under the light, Corben took his time observing Harry. Hair dishevelled, stubble on his face and bags under his eyes, Harry looked like he hadn't slept in days. But he had looked just fine the day before. His skinny arms stuck out of his t-shirt like a pair of branches. He went into the bedroom and Corben followed.
Inside was a mess. All clothes have been pulled out of the wardrobe. There were messy stacks on the bed and on the floor and in one corner of the bed was a stack of folded shirts. Acting like Corben wasn't there at all, Harry started picking up and folding the rest of the clothes.
Corben stood, bewildered. Then he took off his bag and helped Harry clean up. With an extra pair of hands, it wasn't long before all of the shirts and trousers were cleanly folded and returned to the wardrobe. Harry shut the door and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.
Corben sat on the bed. "So? Are you going to tell me what that was all about?" he asked. "Why were you folding your clothes instead of going to work?"
Harry slowly lowered himself on the bed and pulled his legs up. "Why are you here?"
Corben tried not to be offended by that. "I was worried about you."
"Well, I'm fine."
"You're not," he insisted, pushing closer to Harry. "You look terrible. Have you eaten anything?"
"I ate a pizza," Harry mumbled, looking at his feet.
"For lunch?"
"And for breakfast."
Corben bit his lips as he let out a frustrated sigh, trying not to show it to Harry. "And did you, by any chance, order the pizza last night?"
Harry's head whipped in his direction although he tried to look normal a second later. He cleared his throat. "Um - no. Why would you say that?"
There were so many things Corben wanted to say to Harry. His primary purpose to come here was to talk to him and clear things up between them. But that had to wait. "I'll get you something to eat," he said as he stood. "Then we'll talk."
He went into the kitchen, Harry following. The sight of the dining table brought Corben to sigh again in frustration, for there was the pizza box, on top of which was a pizza with only half of it gone. He shot a pointed look at Harry, who looked instantly guilty.
"Is this the pizza that you had for dinner, breakfast, and lunch?"
"I didn't feel like cooking."
Corben made him sit down and drink some juice that he found in the fridge. Then he managed to make some French toast after scouring the kitchen for ingredients.
Harry, however, didn't seem to have any appetite. He moved his fork along the rim of his plate, every now and then spearing it into the toast but not showing the slightest interest in eating. "I'm sorry about yesterday," he said.
Corben smiled, reached out to press his hand. "It's alright. It's not a big deal."
"You're not mad at me?" Harry asked, sounding as though he genuinely had expected Corben to stop speaking to him out of anger.
"Of course not. We had an experience. We learned a lesson. And we both now know better what we want for our future dates."
Harry dropped his fork on the bowl and sat staring unblinkingly at Corben. "You still want to go on dates with me?"
"Oh, Harry." Corben couldn't help but laugh. "As I said, it's not a big deal. I actually enjoyed skating. It was just unfortunate that I fell."
"But you'd prefer not to do such things in the future."
"Well, I won't really mind," Corben conceded. "I love that you wanted to introduce me to a new muggle activity. But I'd also like to just hold your hand and sit idly and do nothing. You know?"
For the first time since Corben had arrived, Harry smiled. "We can certainly do that. I'm sorry I was being so forceful with you."
His mood lifted, Harry now started eating. Corben accompanied him silently. He thought about Harry's reaction when he was storming away from him, and something clicked in his mind. Ron's words when he had gone to Hogsmeade with Theo.
"How's your ankle?" Harry asked through a mouthful of bread.
"Good. Doesn't hurt anymore. Listen, Harry." He cleared his throat, looking for the best way to broach the subject. "Ron told me once that you have the tendency to - um - blame yourself for things aren't really your fault." Harry's fingers tightened around the fork, his jaws stiffened. Corben started to regret bringing it up but he plunged on. "So I was wondering if - if that is what has caused this - well, if that is what you were doing again."
Harry glared at his food. His fist trembled like he was planning to crush the fork into splinters. Corben, suddenly scared, wrenched the fork away and grabbed his hands.
"Never mind. You don't have to answer that. I'm sorry I brought it up."
Harry didn't look at him as he said, "So you and Ron have a nice gossip about me behind my back, do you?"
"No!" Corben cried. "It wasn't like that. I ran into him at Hogsmeade once and you were being distant so he was worried about you. He wanted to know if you had spoken to me."
Harry closed his eyes and took deep and heavy breaths through clenched teeth. When he opened them again, he was far more relaxed. "Right. Sorry." He sighed, burying his face into his hands. "I really don't want to burden you with this, Corben."
"If you're having troubles with something, I want to know. It's not a burden."
Harry thought for a minute. "I'll tell you. But you have to do something for me."
"Okay."
He tore off a chunk of his toast and held it up in front of Corben. "You have to eat it with me."
"No. I won't. I'm not hungry and you haven't eaten all day."
"I don't like eating alone. Please. I'm not very hungry either."
In the end, Harry won, mostly owing to the childish pout that Corben found hard to say no to. He let him feed him one chunk of toast for every three that Harry ate.
Harry explained everything he could to Corben in between bites. The more he spoke, the more regret Corben felt for not having brought this up earlier, for not having noticed anything and asked if he was doing okay. He learned that Harry had nightmares often. He learned that he had days when he couldn't get out of bed for no apparent reason, when the entire world seemed to be against him. Though Harry tried to fight it, he said, during those days he couldn't help but feel that he was responsible for all the death and sufferings that were the result of the war.
A long silence followed his words. Their food was finished too so there was no clinking of the fork against the bowl to interrupt their thoughts. An intense hurt grew in Corben's chest - hurt for the Boy Who Lived, or, more aptly, the Boy Who Suffered.
Harry cleared his throat loudly and gave a bright smile that indicated that they were merely talking about something as happy as food. He touched Corben's jaw lightly. "Well anyway, I don't want you to worry about any of these. It's nothing, okay? I can deal with this."
Corben blinked, pulling out of his thoughts. "Did you have one of those days yesterday because you felt responsible for my anger at you?"
Harry stilled, biting his lips. Then he answered, cautiously. "Well, kind of." He added, "But I want you to know that it's not your fault."
"I understand."
"Please don't worry about it," Harry insisted. This time, he gripped his hand and pleaded. "I only confessed to you because you wanted to know. But I promise I can handle it."
I wouldn't call eating half a pizza for two days handling, Corben thought. Out loud he said, "Of course you can. That doesn't mean I won't worry." Before Harry could protest that he should focus on his training and that he had bigger things to worry about, Corben continued, "Harry, I care about you. And I'm going to worry about you whether you like it or not." He leaned closer, cupping Harry's face in his hands. "Is there anything I can do to make it better for you?"
When Harry answered, his voice was hoarse. "You don't have to -"
"Harry -" Corben began with a groan but was quickly interrupted.
"Okay, you can cook for me!" Harry blurted out, then blushed immediately. He lowered his eyes. "I just - I like it when you make me stuff to eat. It makes me feel like I matter to you."
The confession was a pleasant surprise to Corben although the last sentence saddened him. While he had always worried that he was too insignificant to be liked by Harry Potter, he had no idea that Harry himself had the same doubts about him. "Of course you matter to me," he said. "And yes, I will cook for you. But you have to promise me that you'll phone me if anything happens." He paused, frowning. "But what if I'm not home?" he mused.
"I'll buy you a cell phone." At the look of confusion on Corben's face, Harry explained, "A telephone. But without wires. So you can carry it anywhere. Not sure if it would work at the Ministry though."
Corben took Harry by the hands and pulled him to his feet. Harry was shorter, but now, with his hunched shoulders and bowed head, he looked even tinier compared to him. Corben massaged his shoulders gently, feeling the tight knots in his muscles relaxing under his fingers. Harry reached forward and hugged him around the waist.
"Don't you have muggle doctors who can do something about your nightmares?" Corben asked. He had one hand on the back of Harry's neck and the other gently stroking his back. Harry looked up at him, a small frown on his face that was quickly replaced by a smile and then a laugh. Corben glared. "Did I say something funny?"
Harry shook his head. "You're cute." He pulled away and walked toward the bedroom, Corben following.
"I know that. But why?"
"When wizards cannot do something, they rarely think that hey, maybe the muggles can do this better than us," Harry explained as he climbed into his bed and crawled under the covers. Corben stood by, arms crossed.
"Well, the muggle doctor actually improved my health a lot. If I'd gone to St Mungo's and told them that I'm underweight, they'd have looked at me like I was crazy and sent me away with a lozenge."
Harry laughed again, loudly. Corben was momentarily entranced by the sight. He'd rarely seen Harry laugh that way, so free and uninhibited. Besides, Harry's appearance had been quite a blow when he'd walked into this apartment an hour ago, and it made him feel better about himself knowing that he was the reason for his laughter, even though he was probably just laughing at him.
"Come here," said Harry when he'd stopped laughing. "Don't just stand there like that."
He lifted the blanket to let Corben in, who happily snuggled up next to him.
"Hermione's actually been insisting I go to a therapist," said Harry.
"Is that another muggle doctor who stops nightmares?"
Harry nuzzled his cheek, smiling into his skin. "Not really. Therapists are doctors who work with your feelings. If you have faced trauma or loss, they can help you cope with it."
Corben took a few minutes to let the information sink in. He had been ignorant about everything muggle all his life and the more he learned, the more fascination he felt toward them. The idea that there were doctors who helped with your feelings was baffling to him, for wizards were firm believers that simply having magic solved all of their problems, even though that clearly was not true.
"Well, why don't you do it then?" he asked. "Go to a therapist?"
Harry shrugged, pulling away from him. "It's too much of a hassle. I'm fine, Corben. I told you I can handle myself."
"But if it stops you from getting nightmares -"
"Corben, I'm not doing it," Harry snapped, cutting him off.
Corben went silent. Harry breathed heavily beside him, as though his sharp tone had sapped him of all energy. He rubbed his face with his hands.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled through his fingers. "I didn't mean to snap. Please don't go."
"It's okay." Corben smiled as he tucked the blanket gently around Harry. "I'm just going to make dinner."
"I keep ruining things, don't I?"
"You didn't ruin anything." He placed a kiss on Harry's forehead, ruffled his hair. "Get some rest."
Harry grabbed his hand and held on tightly. "Will you stay with me tonight?"
"Do you want me to?"
Harry nodded.
Corben smiled and kissed him again, gently, on the lips. "Then I will."