Painted Roses

Chapter 2

It hurt. It all did.
Harry wanted to move. He tried, but failed—miserably. His body ached. Arms as heavy as led, legs completely numb. And light, it was pouring directing into his eyes.

His face scrunched, and a hand ran through his hair. Harry shuddered, feeling a thick log of bile climbing his throat.
His body broke from the bed, forcing him to roll where he emptied the thick fluids wherever they landed. In a bucket he thought, by the sound let off as he wrenched his guts out. A hand, strong and thin, squeezed his shoulders, only making him puke more.

Flopping back onto the bed a century later, Harry groaned, his head pounding and the light around him was not helping.
"Harry?" Someone yelled- or called- or.. something, but it made Harry's head pound worse. And his body was still so heavy.

Scrunching his face again, Harry tried to roll onto his stomach, but his body wouldn't allow it this time. So Harry laid on his back, in pain and barely able to vocalize it as his throat felt raw.

"Harry can you hear me?" "Please, Mrs. Weasley, step aside. I must have a look at him."
There was shuffling, then a chilled hand on the top of his forehead. Harry groaned, and tried to move from the hand but it did absolutely nothing except worsen the pain.
The hand curled to the back of his neck, tilting his head back as a vial touched his lips. Harry closed his mouth as a vile taste touched his tongue. The lip of the vial pushed past his lips, forcing him to swallow the potion until not even a drop was in the container.

Harry coughed, gagging as his body rolled to the side. His body curling into itself as the taste continued to stain his tongue.
"Come now, Mr. Potter. I have to examine you."
Harry fought, as well as he could, against the Healer rolling him onto back and beginning a standard check-up. He almost threw up once more as the man pressed cold fingers against his stomach.

"Healer Riddle, is this truly necessary? Harry-" "Mrs. Weasley I have assured you many times. If you would rather take Mr. Potter home and self-treat him -then you may do so and fret then. Otherwise, I encourage you to allow me to do my job..." A pause. "I will need you to step out for a moment, as well. For the confidentiality of my patient, I assume he would not like his godmother to see him disrobed for this next portion." "Dis— This is only a check up!" Mrs. Weasley screeched. "Have you ever had a "check-up" Mrs. Weasley?"
The woman stammered.
"Then allow me to do what is needed for his and possibly, your sake."
Harry heard, over his heavy gasps of air, as Mrs. Weasley fumbled with her words, then seemingly bowed in defeat.

"I will be right outside." She assured. There was silence, then Mrs. Weasley was stretching out a curtain and pulling it back as she left.
Harry practically choked as magic rose over him, taking away his air as the Healer —Riddle? If Harry had heard correctly.

He groaned as the hand pressed against his stomach, then released, allowing fresh air to build in his lungs.
There was the click of a tongue, as if the Healer were annoyed, before audibly grumbling. "Who have you surrounded yourself with, Harrison? Such impudent blood traitors."
He was rolled onto his side, two fingers pressing into the middle of his spine as another hand laid openly on his forehead.

Harry's eyes flew open -the room blurring into diamond spots of light- as a powerful wave of magic entered through his vertebrae up along his neck to the center of the palm of his forehead.
Harry's eyes crossed, before he found himself hunched over the side of the bed. His guts wrenching up his throat once more into a bucket. A heavy weight laid over him -a soothing hand running through his hair, scraping his scalp and brushing his nape.

Harry whined, his throat burning as he pulled back, taking in hot breaths before lurching over the bucket once more.
"Good boy." The Healer praised, "Let it all out. It'll make you feel better." His finger nails continued to scrape nicely against his scalp, soothing the haywire nerves jumping up and down his body.