Wings by MaiaMadness
Chapter Notes: Loosely based on the song 10.000 Days by Tool. R.I.P, every person who has gone through the fire and been lifted by the Heavens. Marie, I hope you got your wings.
For Dad.
Harry sat down by the bed at St. Mungo’s. The face of the man in it was pale. Paler than usual. Weaker than usual. He didn’t move. He lay still the way he had for what seemed like ten thousand days. Harry took his cold hand in his.
“Hey, Remus,” he whispered. “It’s me again.”
Silence. The man in the bed could not respond, and Harry felt his eyes well up with tears, just like they did every time he came here. There was so much pain here. So much loss.
It had been several years since the war ended. But the end of the battle was not a joyous occasion. So many had been lost. So many loved ones. So many friends. Cedric. Sirius. Dumbledore. Tonks. Ginny. Remus had been Harry’s last connection to his father. His last connection to the world he had come from. And Harry had been the same for Remus. They had kept each other company, and Remus was like a brother. Like a father even. But then he had taken ill, and… Well.
He had been like this for months. Comatose. The healers didn’t know what was wrong with him. Harry did not know what was wrong with him. He had even been tempted to take him to a Muggle hospital instead, where they had real names for things. Brain tumors. Cancer. Leukemia. Things you couldn’t see on the outside, and which no manner of spell could fix. Then again, knowing the cause would hardly have made Harry feel better if it couldn’t be fixed.
Harry had instead gone to see his friend every day. Every day he had sat down next to the bed, looked at him, talked to him a bit. It wasn’t fair that Remus was the one to go through these things. Remus, who had never done anything bad. He didn’t lie, he didn’t kill… And he had, in many ways, saved Harry’s life.
The door behind him opened, and Harry turned around.
“Oh, back again, Mr. Potter?” said the nurse as she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. She came over to the bed, fluffed Remus’ pillow a bit, as though that would make any difference. Brought out her wand and lifted his wrist and touched it lightly with it. “Steady pulse,” she said approvingly. She pulled out a potion bottle, from her robes, strapped a tube to it with a needle at the end, and stuck the needle in Remus’ arm, pumping nutritious fluids and Wolvesbane into his blood. Then she bustled about a bit, fixing some flowers, before turning to Harry.
“Don’t be sad, love,” she said. “It’ll be alright. I’m sorry you have to go through this…”
“What for? It’s not your fault,” said Harry coolly, not looking at her. She stood still for a moment, scratching an itch in the palm of her hand.
“No, but…” she trailed off. “I suppose I’ll see you later on,” she tried. When Harry didn’t reply she turned around and left the room again. Harry closed his eyes.
“Spare me,” he whispered angrily. “Nobody is as good as you… Nobody who still lives, anyway.” He shuddered, trying to hold back tears. “But this has gone on for long enough. This has to end. You have to go home.”
He held the warm hand of his friend. His brother. His father. And for the first time in his life, he silently prayed. He wasn’t sure who he prayed to, but it was someone. He prayed that Remus be let out of his hell. He prayed that his friend should no longer have to suffer. No longer lie comatose like this, closed in a body, a shell, a prison. He prayed that he be set free. He knew that when at last it happened he would cry. He would be far more miserable than now. But Remus would be free, and soon, Harry’s pain would end too. There were others left for him, but he was the only one left for Remus.
“If you die tonight,” he said, squeezing the hand, “you’ll be met by angels. And you’ll tell them, when they ask what you’ve done with your life, you tell them that your life has been a series of losses. That your world has been filled with pain. But that you never gave up, and that you never stopped hoping and trusting and loving, because there were always more people to love. Tell them that you’ve tried to live as best you could. Tell them to give you your wings.”
He sat in silence for a while. Remus’ chest rose and fell with each breath he took. Slow, steady breaths. Putting a finger on his wrist, Harry could feel the slow pulse. Slow. Slowing. Going. Gone. Harry shook. The nurse came rushing through the door.
“Move over!” she said. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a potion. Then she rushed over to the bed.
“Stop!” argued Harry, tears flowing freely. “Don’t do it. It’s better this ends. It’s better it’s all over. Better for him, and better for me!”
“Selfish child!” the nurse exclaimed, nearly dropping the potion. “How can you make such a decision? Better for you…”
“I’m the only one he has!” Harry interrupted. “I’m the only one. There’s no one else left. And I have to let him go.”
The nurse lifted her wand. “I can’t have you stopping me from doing my job. Stupefy!”
Everything went black.
What felt like a moment later, Harry opened his eyes. He was lying on a bed in the same room. Reality flowed back awfully quick, and he sat up. A team of healers now stood around the bed next to his. He stood up and tried to push his way through the throng.
“Please, stay out of the way!” said one of them.
“Let him through,” said another one; an elderly witch with small glasses and grey, wispy hair. “There’s nothing more we can do. I’m sorry.” Her eyes met Harry’s. The healers pulled away from the bed, where Remus lay, pale and cold, his chest rising and falling no more. His eyes were closed, and his expression was mild. Harry smiled, allowing a few tears to fall from his eyes.
“It’s alright,” he said, taking Remus’ hand again. “It’s better this way. He’s home.”