Padfoot?-Chapter Seven

BANG! CRASH! SMASH!

The sounds were a distant noise in Harry's head. He had been on the verge of awareness for the past few hours, but he had never managed to stay fully awake. The sounds managed what he couldn't by himself, and he opened his eyes slowly.

Dust fell from the ceiling lightly, along with small bits of rubble. Harry could hear shouts and yells above him, through the dense marble. Things were being smashed, thrown and shattered, broken and battered. Harry bet the whole part of the house above him was in ruins.

But...what was causing the house to be in shambles? Maybe it was the people with the sticks, Harry thought. They don't seem to trust one another at all...

Harry wasn't bothered. If he was lucky, part of the ceiling above him would come crashing down, and finally end the misery. The constant pain in his joints, the constant twitches and jolts. The constant stretch of his stomach.

He was not that lucky, however. No bit of ceiling came crashing down to bury him in rubble.

Instead, the metal door leading to the long corridor with cells on all sides was swung open, the rough metal scraping and making a very unpleasant sound against the marble floor. His head leant forward, and his eyes closed, against his will. Though, before he blacked out, he could faintly hear the sound of claws running on the marble floor. A Dog, maybe? Harry thought for a fleeting second, before he blacked out.

When Harry next woke up he was no longer chained, or in his cell, but was in the arms of someone, being carried. He jumped out of their arms, and scrambled off the floor, startling the person. Harry looked at them wildly, nervous when he didn't recognize them.

Bark! Bark bark! Harry looked to the side. A scruffy dog was barking at him, a stupidly happy grin on its face. Can dogs even grin? The thought ran through Harry's head, before he became distracted by the hand grabbing his arm.

Harry tried to pull free, but the next thing he knew, that sensation of being sucked through a tube overwhelmed him. when the horrible sensation ended, he landed on the ground with an ungraceful thump! and was soon dry heaving on the ground. He looked up, to see an old looking building, seemingly normal in the rows of houses. Number 12, Harry noted, before he passed out.

The next time Harry woke up, it was blinking at the man leaning worriedly over him. Harry hardly registered that he was in a small-ish room, on a bed that felt like the most amazing thing in world, before he focused on the man. Why was he so damn familiar?

"Padfoot?" The name escaped Harry's cracked, dry lips, before his eyes rolled back into his head, the last thing he saw was the surprised, and oddly overjoyed face of the man with scruffy, curly, black hair, and blue eyes.

The next time Harry woke up, he was alone. He took a moment to stretch, and realized how bloody amazing it felt to be in a bed. In a room. In a house. With a blanket. And a pillow! Harry was very, very confused about the details of how he got here, and who had gotten him here, but, for now, he was oh-so thirsty, and looking around, a glass of water with ice was sitting on the bed side table.

He reached for is carefully, and felt his fingers wrap around the cold glass. He slowly brought it to his lips, and took a long, glorious gulp of much needed water. This cup, as silly as in sounded, was to him, a Godsend. Not that he was religious.

When the glass was drained, Harry tried to carefully set it back on the nightstand, but his shaking fingers dropped the glass. It shattered on the wooden floor, breaking. The glass flew, and Harry winced.

He moved, a bit on the slow side. With slight shock, he realized, once he was standing, that the constant twitches, and lurches of pain, were gone. He felt completely fine! Harry beamed, and crouched down on one knee, and started cleaning the glass up laying it in the palm of his hand. He was around halfway done, and was looking for a trashcan, when the door opened. He looked up, to see a girl standing there. She had frizzy brown hair, and chocolate eyes.

She held a new glass of water in her hand, and was surprised to see him awake, no doubt. After a minute of the two sizing the other up, the girl dropped on her knees, and started cleaning up the glass, setting the glass of water she had held to the side, safely out of the way.

"I'm Hermione," She said suddenly, causing Harry to look up. "Hermione Granger." Harry floundered. He had no experience with human interaction. He supposed he should introduce himself also, right?

"Harry. Harry Potter." He rasped.

"I know." She blurted, causing Harry to look up, alarmed. "Oh, you must be thirsty, still. Here." She shoved the glass of water in his face, and Harry took it, gulping it down after a moment. She continued talking, even as he drank. "You've been here for roughly a month. You kept going in and out of consciousness. I'm glad to see you're finally awake. We were getting quite worried." She blabbed.

Harry asked the first question that came to mind. "We?"

"The Order Of The Phoenix. Oh, right you wouldn't know about them, would you? Obviously not."

"Are they who...rescued me?"

"...Yes."

"Er...where am I?"

She stayed silent, instead choosing to gather the rest of the shattered glass. "I think it's time you see the others. I should have brought you down already." She bit her lip, and lead him out. Harry hastily set his glass down, threw the remaining glass shards into the trashcan by the door, and followed Hermione.

They walked down a long hallway, then many staircases. The smell of something delicious hit Harry's nose, and he grew excited as they moved closer to the source. Chatter could be heard, growing steadily louder as they grew closer. Harry's steps stuttered, and Hermione looked back, smiling in a calm manner, hoping to encourage him. He smiled back slowly, shyly, the motion feeling odd.

She pushed open the door, and walked in, Harry following slowly behind her. Silence instantly enveloped the area as Harry came into line of sight. Harry shuffled, suddenly aware that he was wearing somebody else's clothes. They hung off his body, as most things did, and dropped.

The room contained a long table, which was loaded with people, goblets, plates, silverwear, and food. There was a dark skinned man, a good amount of red-heads, a blond who reminded him greatly of that Malfoy fellow, a man with shoulder-length, black, curly hair, and blue eyes, and a plethora of other people. His eyes darted around quickly, stuttering on the blue eyed, curly haired man. He seemed....oddly familiar.

"Harry," The blue eyed man breathed, the first to make any sort of noise or motion since Harry entered. "Remus...Remus should be here, but Moony's come out to play, so he can't." The man gulped. He got up from his chair, walking slowly, frowning at the distrust and weariness of Harry's eyes as he looked at him. And the whole room, for that matter. But he saw something flicker, and Harry's eyes narrowed, his eyebrows furring together in confusion.

"Pad...Rem...Moon...-" Harry starts, eyes darting between the floor and the man quickly, not noticing the man, whose breath was hitching. "Pad...Padfoot-?" A grin wide enough to split his face was going across the man's face, but Harry gasped, falling to the floor, clutching his head. His forehead was on fire, it was burning.

"Harry!" 'Padfoot' shouted in alarm, and the loud noise seemed to kick the whole room into action. Chairs scraped across the floor, but all was silent as a loud BANG resonated throughout the room, followed by a mad cackle as the door to the dining room was slowly pushed open. 

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I hope you guys realize it physically pains me to write this story.