"You should get some sleep, Harry, really," Hermione insists softly, pressing her hand against her best friends (brother, really) forehead. Harry watches her eyebrows furrow in concern, a crease forming between as her eyes dart from his forehead, to his flush cheeks, to the hair that sticks to his forehead with sweat.
"I will 'mione. I promise," Harry sighs. Hermione is great, really, she is. But the last thing anyone wants when grieving the one person who showed you parental care in your life, is to have someone pressing her hand against your body and coddling you.
"I will hex you asleep, Potter." Ginny calls as she enters the common room, immediately walking towards the two. "Where is Ron?" Hermione stands up, turning to Ginny. The creases in her forehead never soften.
"Hermione," Ginny snorted. "Don't you think you should be sleeping?" Harry faintly hears Hermione mutter a string of words, though can't make out what exactly she's saying as his world darkens and his eyes flutter closed.
"Finally," Hermione mumbles, staring down at her brother fondly. "You're good to him, you know?" She suddenly turns to Ginny, who waves her off immediately.
"James! Please go get Harry up, the food will get cold otherwise!" His mother calls, exasperated, from down the stairs.
Footsteps rumble against the wooden floors, and then his door opens. "Dad?" Harry whispers. "Gotta get up, kiddo, your mums gonna blow her gasket if you don't." James laughs, leaning against the door frame casually.
"Dad?" Harry repeats, rubbing his eyes in shock. His dead fathers beaming smile falls just slightly when his - also dead? - mother calls again.
"C'mon Harry," James sighs, stepping into the room. "Let's get your clothes and head down stairs for your birthday breakfast."
Harry nods weakly. What's happening? Did Ginny really hex him?
Harry followed his living dad down the staircase, the faint sound of 'The Light That Never Goes Out' by the Smiths playing throughout the floor.
Harry feels suffocated when they reach the bottom floor, the breath leaving his lungs as he observes the house. This was his family home?
"Harry? You feeling okay?" A familiar voice rings out from the kitchen entrance way.
"Padfoot?" Harrys voice grows hallow, but he can't hear it. He can hear the blood pumping in his ears, ringing growing. Harry, on a limb, leaps forward into Sirius' body.
"Shit, kid!" Sirius grunts, though still smiling, as Harry barrels into him. "I missed you," Harrys voice muffles against the fabric of Sirius' t-shirt.
"Where's my welcome?" Another man, less familiar this time, calls out teasingly. Harry glances behind his godfather at a nearly identical man, if not a little bit shorter. "W-" "Regulus!" James calls happily.
"Regulus?" Harry echos in confusion. "You know Reggie," Sirius glances down at his god son, who looks younger than ever before in his arms. "My brother?"
Harrys head grows fuzzy for a moment, before it clears. Sirius never told him he had a brother. Where was Regulus?
"Right," Harry laughs dismissively, "so." He trailed off as his mother entered the room. The mother who had yelled from the bottom of the stairs. The mother who, from the life he remembered, had apparently looked strikingly similar to himself. The mother whos eyes were described to look like trees in the mid of May, while his fathers looked like bushes on the darkest of nights.
"Hey.. Mum." Harry whispers under his breath. Lily stares at him oddly, "happy birthday darling." She then says warmly. His stomach clenches with painful familiarity for a moment. Why? Why did this feel to painful; the warm words of his mother; the ruffling of his hair from Sirius; the knowing eyes of Regulus; the tired eyes of his father hidden behind a beaming smile.
"Thankyou, goodmorning," he says, stronger this time. "Fuck - right, happy birthday kiddo!" James winces from Harrys side, both from his forgetfulness and the smack Lily promptly delivered. "No swearin-" "I'm sure he has heard worse from Hogwarts," Remus snorts, entering the room.
"Remus," Harry breaths a sigh of relief, feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders. He removes himself from Sirius' clenching arms, jumping into Remus'. "Happy birthday, Harry."
"Thank you," Harry breaths. Now, with a smile, he turns to the group of adults who all stared at him with the same, blank, look. Despite the blank face, they all held a smile on their face that stretched no further than the tip of their noses.
"Let's eat, yeah?" He felt like crying. The overwhelming sense of loss still pulsing in his chest for no apparent reason. The aching of his neck, Harrys only justification for this was his odd sleeping position.
"Are Hermione and Ron coming?" He pauses abruptly. Harry turns to his mother, who he assumed planned the whole ordeal.
Lily glanced at James with a raised eyebrow, and then at Remus. "Ron is coming a bit later.. Along with the rest of the Weasleys." She smiled at Harry. His eyebrows only furrowed further, "and Hermione?"
"I'm sure you'll see her at school!" Sirius suddenly interjected. "Can I just owl her to come with Ron later? I'm sure Ginny would like some company as well!" Harry pleads. Hermione felt familiar, more so than the adults surrounding him with equally as eerie smiles and looks of confusion.
"Ginny?" Harry doesn't see the way his father mouthed the name to his mother. Or the way his mother blinked, her face shuttering for a moment.
"She'll be here soon," Lily says, her tone final. Harry, despite not recognizing her motherly tendencies or the parental instincts she may feel, shut down. Petunia held the same look when she was upset with Harry, a look of which her learned to fear.
The name suddenly felt empty in his head. The name Petunia, he could remember, but not any connection to it. Why would she be mad at him?
"Right," he breathed softly.
"Right," he breathed softly, ignoring the thoughts lingering in the back of his head. “Well,” his godfathers..brother? suddenly claps. “Are we ready to eat our cold breakfest?” “Sorry,” Harry ducks his head, murmering softly in silent guilt.
His mother smiles softly at him, speaking softly as she ushered him down to the dining room table.
“Eggs, your favorite.” His mother piles on scrambbled eggs onto his plate, while his father follows her lead and dribbles overly sweetened ketchup to cover his food. “Thanks,” Harry trails off, staring at the creamy eggs that cover the majority of his plate.
“You love eggs? Harry?” Regulus questions from the end of the table, raising eyebrows in surprise. No. A voice in his head tries to say, though Harry ignores it. “Yep.” Sirius snorts, drawing eyes from both men – boys?
“Reggie hates eggs.” Fondness folls over Harry as his godfather speaks. He missed this. He feels like he’s drowning. His head clouds over.
"Harry," a voice sings close to his ears. His head is still cloudy. "Harry," the voice repeats, stronger this time.
His shoulders begin to shake. "Harry?" The voice, higher, repeats with concern evident in their -- her? -- voice. "I can't." Harry feels himself speak. No no no no no.
No, he wants to go back. His parents warm words, soft murmurs, smiles (no matter how empty), eyes filled with love.
"Hermione," Harry sobs, burrowing his face into her chest. He suddenly feels the same way he felt in Sirius' arms; warm, content, safe.
"You're okay, Harry." She murmurs into his head as she wraps her arms around him.
"What happened?" Hermione makes eye contact with Harry, her eyes filled with nothing but concern for the broken boy who had become her brother. "I don't know, Hermione." He sobs harder.
He woke up.
They're dead.