Book Two: Snape's Memories

Chapter Thirty

The steps to the kitchen seemed rather longer than he remembered them. Harry gripped the banister and took each step carefully. Once he had to stop and catch his breath. Ginny was going to have his hide for wandering around, but she wasn't here to stop him, at the moment.

Voices from the kitchen. Molly was here today, to keep an eye on Harry and Tim.

"...talking to my angel." Tim was saying, "It was nice."

"Your angel, dear?" asked Molly, gently "You have an angel?"

"Nana said everyone does, its just that not everyone can hear them, 'cause they don't listen well enough. She said that your angel would always tell you the right thing to do."

If anyone noticed Harry on the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister, he'd deny he needed to catch his breath a second time. He'd tell them he was enjoying the sound of enthusiastic childhood chatter.

It was even mostly true.

"She said that you can't hear them with just your ears, you have to listen with your heart and your gut too." Tim went on. He was speaking very seriously, but somehow he sounded more childlike than he ever had before.

"Your Nana was a very wise woman. I know exactly what you mean." said Molly, encouragingly "So, you were dreaming about talking to your angel?"

"Yeah. He was talking to Mr. Potter. He's never talked to anyone else, even when I was dreaming. I think maybe Auntie Ginny was in it too, but I don't remember what she was doing. Anyway, he said something, but I don't remember what and then I woke up, but it was a nice dream. " Tim finished.

Harry sighed. The child deserved to have all the nice dreams he could get.

Molly's sharp ears caught the sound, "Harry James Potter! Are you out of bed?" she called out.

Harry had hoped that perhaps Ginny might not have mentioned to her that he wasn't supposed to get up today.

As if that was bloody likely.

"Uh, yeah. Just thought I'd get some tea." Harry replied, trying not to sound sheepish. He staggered down the remaining three steps.

"If Master had wanted tea, Master should have called Kreacher." the house elf said, turning from the stove, to fix Harry with a reproachful expression, as he came in through the door, "Mistress Ginny said Master was not to leave his bedroom today."

Molly shook her head, "Well, sit down. Have some tea and its straight back up with you. I'll help you back up. I doubt you'd make it upstairs yourself at the moment." she poured a cup of tea and added liberal amounts of milk and sugar to it, Harry noticed, "You look like death warmed over."

Harry couldn't dispute Molly's assessment. He'd only been allowed to leave St. Mungo's yesterday. He just couldn't stay in bed staring at the wall for one more minute. Ginny always complained that he was the world's worst patient.

"How about I just go sit in the drawing room and read?" wheedled Harry, Drinking his tea.

Molly huffed, "All right, but don't come crying to me, when your wife goes mad. I'm not taking any responsibility for it."

Harry winked at Tim who was sitting next to him. Like Harry, he was still in his pajamas. The boy covered his own smile with his hand,

"Have a good sleep?" Harry asked. For a moment a sense of deja vu drifted on the edge of his awareness, then it was gone.

Tim nodded, shyly.

"He was just telling me what he was dreaming about." put in Molly fondly.

"I had some peculiar dreams." said Harry, "I think the stuff the healers have me on make my dreams weird."