Lexi Layyer my only weakness*hp fanfic*

Confessions

I feel numb. 

I spent Christmas in St. Mungo’s Hospital, by 'Alexs side.  

Sometime after lunch Tom have arrived with a bottle of mulled mead and we ate a somewhat plastic-y but still comforting Christmas dinner at the hospital cafeteria. Just as we finished he raised his glass.  

“A toast to Lexi and Alex,” he said. “May they find their way home. 

We chinked glasses and finished the meal without saying anything. After the meal was done he got up and so did I and then before I knew it he was hugging me. We stood there for a while.

Finally, he broke away. “I have to go back to the bar now,” he nodded. “But if Alex makes any kind of progress, let me know.”

 I attempt a smile. “Of course. Now go, the Leaky Cauldron beckons.” 

When he left I returned back to Alex’s bedside, feeling guilty for leaving him alone for so long. Not that he would have known, of course – he’d been unconscious since the day before and wasn’t showing any signs of changing this. 

The only comfort of him being here was the intensity of the ‘Get Well Soon’ cards on his beside table, from his oldest friends to his newest colleagues at the Ministry. And quite a few people came to visit, too – wishing me their best, and promising things would get better soon.

But I felt too numb to even properly register all of it. The visitors and their presents and cards passed by in a vague blur until someone arrive who is pretty hard to not notice. 

My eyes had drifted from my son’s side in the way the only do when you feel someone watching you. I looked over to the door, to see a tall, thin man with a long silver beard and electric blue eyes standing there, looking directly at me.

My lips trembled and twisted into half a smile. “Professor Dumbledore.”

There’s something about him that always made me feel uneasy, ever since I was a little girl. I suppose it’s the fact that he can look at you like you’re an open book, and I never liked the idea that I was so easy to read.

 When he speaks it’s in the same calm, pleasant tone that I remember from my school days; it’s so familiar that I’m suddenly hit with the overwhelming desire to burst into tears. I look away in frustration of myself.

 “I have not taught you for over twenty years, Mrs. Layyer,” he chuckles softly. “There is no need to refer to me as your Professor anymore.”

 “Oh yes,” I mumble, “I forgot.”

 Seeing him transforms me back to my awkward years as a teen. I scowl at myself and try to hold myself with a little more dignity.

 He watches me for an agonizing moment before finally speaking. “I hope you do not mind me being here, Mrs. Layyer. I only came to offer you my deepest sympathies at this hard time, and to assure you I am doing my very best to help you.”

 I’d been trying my best to avoid his eyes, because it always intimidates me, but these words send my eyes flying to his. “ ‘Help’ me? What do you mean? Can you save Alex?”

 Dumbledore looks at me sorrowfully, before stepping forward towards my son. I watch him uneasily, as protective of my child as I was when he was a baby. But then again, he’s been unconscious for days and at this moment in time really is as vulnerable as a newborn child. I push this thought aside.

 “Alex was such a popular student when at school,” murmurs Dumbledore. “Well-liked by his teachers, and adored and respected by his peers. He always dedicated a great deal of time towards his schoolwork, and got involved in many extra-curricular activities. Choosing him as Head Boy was one of the most simple choices I have ever made.”