jharad17 - Whelp

He opened his eyes.

And he was gathered close in Father's arms, and Father's head was bent low over him while they rocked together, and there were tears on his cheeks. Harry reached up with his good hand to brush them away. "Don't cry, Daddy. Please. Don't be sad."

"Harry . . ." Father's voice sounded thick and he bent lower, so his forehead almost touched Harry's, squeezing his eyes shut before he blinked them open again. He cleared his throat. "You're awake."

Harry nodded, and his father smiled. Obviously, he was.

"I couldn't . . . you were having a nightmare, and I couldn't wake you," Father explained.

"I'm sorry, Father."

"No . . . no, it wasn't your fault. I think you . . . I think I gave you reason to think I was your . . . that I was that Vernon creature." His eyes were dark, like midnight, like the inside of a cupboard. "I swear to you, I will never have another drink. I . . . I didn't realize."

"Sorry," Harry said again, not knowing what else to say.

"Please, don't apologize, Harry. I'm the one who's sorry. I should have understood . . ." Father broke off, his voice thick again, and Harry frowned, trying to understand, himself. Uncle Vernon was gone now, so it didn't matter, right? "How does your hand feel?"

Harry brought it up in front of his eyes and saw a new bandage wrapped around it. It ached fiercely, and he tried to move his fingers, but they felt stiff and wrong. With a cock of his head, he asked a question, and Father nodded. "I healed the bite the best I could, Harry, but it's . . . because you did it to yourself, it has to heal on its own, for the most part. You'll have to be careful of it for a few days."

"Yes, sir, um, Father. It's fine." The lie came easily, like always.

"Good. Do you . . . I could have Nelli bring us some cocoa if you like."

"No, thank you. I'm tired. Can I go back to sleep?"

"Yes, of course. Would you like me to stay with you a while?"

"Yes, please." Father helped him snuggle back under the covers, and sat on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on Harry's side, while Harry stared at the ball of light on the little table, and watched it spin through red and gold and green and pink, over and over, until his eyes were heavy enough to stay closed.

In the morning, Harry rolled out of bed sleepily and was half way to the kitchen to start breakfast before he realized that here, he didn't have to do that. In the sitting room, he turned round a couple times, but his father wasn't to be seen. The door to his bedroom was closed; maybe he was still asleep. Rubbing his tired eyes, he winced at the sharp stab of pain that shot through his left hand, then sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the fireplace and stared into the banked coals.

Maybe Father had gone Flooing. He could wait.

A while later, Nelli appeared beside him. "Master Harry, sir. Master Snape says you is to have breakfast and then Nelli is to be watching you this morning."

Harry scrambled to his feet. "Thanks, Nelli. Where is he?"

"Master Snape is talking to the Headmaster Dumbledore. Master Snape also says Nelli is to be making sure you is wearing play clothes today. But you is not to use your hurt hand, Master Harry. Master Snape is coming to look at it again at lunch time."

Harry sighed a little, wanting his father now , but said, "Thank you," again. He peered at the hand, and wondered what it looked like under the bandage. Aside from the one he'd had on his ankle when he first woke up at Spinner's End, he couldn't remember ever having a bandage before. He'd used shirts, old towels, and even pieces of newspapers to cover up cuts and keep them from bleeding, when he'd had to tend to his own hurts. It was weird that Father had done this for him. But nice.

"What is youse wanting for breakfast, Master Harry?" Nelli asked, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet.

"Ummm, I'm not sure," he said. "Toast?"

"And juice and eggs and ham, Master Harry?" Nelli suggested, bobbing her head up and down.

Harry grinned as his stomach gave an impatient growl. "Yes, please. Thanks, Nelli."

Nelli grinned back, showing her teeth, and disappeared with a pop. Harry returned to his room to dress. Selecting the clothes was easy, since Father had told him which ones were for play and which were not, and socks and underclothes took no time at all to get into. But when he tried to button his trousers, his injured hand wouldn't work right for him, still. And pain lanced through it, almost bringing tears to his eyes. He clenched his jaw against it and tried to do the buttons again. He just had to ignore the pain, like always.

With a last twinge from his hand, the button slipped into the hole, and he let his breath out in a gasp. There. No trouble.

He'd picked a pullover shirt, and that was easy, too, and he went out to breakfast a bit sweaty, and maybe lightheaded, but dressed. Nelli was already back with more food than he could ever imagine eating, but she made sure he took some of everything, and made sure he at least had some juice and milk and toast before she let him get up from table again.

"What is youse liking to do until lunch, Master Harry?"

"Can we go outside?" Harry asked the house elf.

Nelli hopped from foot to foot. "Not the pitch, Master Harry. Master Snape says no pitch without--"

"His express permission. I know. But can we just go walking?"

"Oh, we can go walking, yes, Master Harry! Youse be getting your shoes on now and we can be going outside walking."

Shoes. He wasn't going to be able to lace them. When all he'd had was Dudley's old shoes, he never had to worry about tying and untying, since they were always too loose and just slipped on over his feet. He looked at Nelli and took a deep breath. "Can you help me?"

Nelli grinned. "Yes, Master Harry! Nelli is helping you all day long. Here is your shoes!"

In moments, he was wearing shoes that seemed to lace themselves, and he gasped, watching them, then laughed. "That was wicked!"

"We is ready to go outsides now, Master Harry?"

"Yes, please." He led the way out of the dungeons, as Father called them, and to the main doors near the Great Hall, which he skirted around. Outside, the sun was shining, and though the air was warm, a nice breeze was blowing, so it wasn't hot . Harry shaded his eyes from the sun with his right hand and peered off toward the forest where he had been expressly forbidden to go. But near the forest, that was where Hagrid's hut was, supposedly, and he wanted to meet the half-giant.

"This way!" he shouted to Nelli and took off at a run, down the hillside. He heard the rise and fall of her voice calling behind him, and then beside him, cautioning him to be careful. "I am," he promised, and tucked his hurt hand closer to his chest.

He heard a dog's booming bark, before he ever saw the cottage, and the sound brought him up short. Ripper! He crept closer, much more slowly now, over the last little ridge, with Nelli trotting alongside him, looking worried. The round house with round roof sat toward the edge of the dark forest. A garden was spread out behind it, and Harry smiled, not recognizing any of the plants as ones he'd kept at the Dursleys, and liking it already for its differentness.

But the dog had a much lower and louder bark than Aunt Marge's Ripper, so he was pretty sure it wasn't him. Still, he was cautious as he approached the cottage. The door was standing open, he saw, and he sidled over a bit, to peek inside.

Just then, a big brown shape hurtled toward him, and he put up both hands to stop it from crashing into him. It didn't work. The mass of tongue, fur and drool knocked him completely over and snuffled at his ears. Despite the shock, he couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Stop, please! Oh, stop!"