Basilisk Eyes

Chapter 79: Grieving

[Author's note: Trigger warning for this chapter and the next as Harry experiences severe depression.]

Harry vaguely heard the alarm going off in the room the next morning, but rolled over and pulled the sheets over his head. He pulled them tighter when Gemma's hands fluttered over his back and tried to pry them off. He heard Aminah, Mei, and Tony talking about him—trying in their own ways to roust him, but finally, they left him alone. When it had been quiet for a while, he got up, tripped over his trainers, then made it to the toilet to relieve himself. He was surprised to find a plate of toast and a cup of tea on his desk when he set down his staff. He had bumped the tea and made a mess, but didn't bother to try to clean it up. It got all over his daily schedule, but he didn't read it, just grazed his fingers over the incomprehensible bumps and then tossed it on the floor. He slumped back into bed, curling up again, and did his best to disappear.

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

Again, Gemma's hands were rubbing his back and trying to coax him out of bed, but he kept still and willed her to leave him alone. At last, she did.

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

Later it was Healer Jordan who was touching him and talking to him—but her voice was so far away—it was at the end of a tunnel and was moving farther and farther away, disappearing into the darkness. It was dark in a way it hadn't been before. He thought he heard Godric, too, also at a great distance, but he didn't care.

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Besel's gentle voice lapped against his consciousness saying something about grieving, but he barely registered it. He was buried under ten tons of sand, his lips were parched, his eyes dry, and his insides were a dark hole of nothingness.

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

Then Mei's caustic voice was grinding against his head and he pulled his pillow over his head trying to escape it. She pounded on the bed and raged at him, he felt closer to the surface, but still, he didn't move.

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Then Gemma climbed onto the bed and curled around him, draping her thin arm over him. He tried to move away, but she just got closer until he couldn't go anywhere, except fall off the bed. So he lay there, breathing his own putrid breath under the covers and waited for her to leave. Her breathing changed from hiccuping silent sobs that seeped into the cracks to steady deep breaths. Then, he fell asleep, too.

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

When the alarms went off this time, Harry heard them. The lights were bright against his eyelids and Healer Jordan's voice was telling the time and reminding them of their schedules. Gemma was still curled around him and he reached over to touch her. His fingers found her face, he could feel salt crusted in rivulets that undulated over spattergoit pockmarks scattered across her cheeks like constellations. He knew he should feel remorse for causing her pain, but he couldn't feel anything. He felt her eyelashes flutter against his fingers and she grabbed his hand and then seized him and pulled him into a bone crushing hug.

It kind of hurt.

I can feel that.

She let him go.

"I'm sorry, Gemma," he tried to say, but he didn't have a voice. The paper fluttered by his cheek—she grabbed it.

Her tears were falling hot on his hands. He patted her shoulder, trying to let her know that he was okay.

I'm not okay.

Someone had removed the holster with his wand at some point. He didn't remember that happening.