This is part three of the series. Go to I got you for the first part.

Harry grabbed the bars to his left and right tighter as the plate under his feet started to move.

"Look up at me, Harry."

Harry pried his eyes away from the ground, fixing them at his physiotherapist. Sara smiled at him encouragingly, her blond ponytail bouncing. He loosened his grip slightly, putting more weight on his shaking legs, trying to balance on the quivering ground. After a few seconds, when he did not manage to let go of the bars altogether, Sara turned off the machine and Harry sank back on the bench behind him, panting and scowling.

"Very good," Sara pressed some buttons on the remote control for the plate.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, mopping sweat from his forehead. "That was total crap, I did not even manage to let go for one second."

Sara grinned sheepishly. "Oh yes, I should have mentioned that I increased the difficulty a bit."

Harry looked up. "You did… what?"

"I wanted to see how far we can go. I just turned the frequency down again. Ready for another go?"

Harry stared at the therapist, not knowing if he should feel angry. "You are nuts."

"I know." Sara took one of the colored plastic balls from the shelf. "Now come on, move your ass!"

Harry sighed at the sight of the ball. "Oh no, we are not doing this, please!"

"Oh yes, definitely the ball. Just one perfect catch, okay?"

Harry grunted irritably and pulled himself up again by the bars.

"Ready?"

The plate started to quiver, slower and less than before and he stood straight, letting go of the bars, hands hovering just a little above them.

Sara nodded and playfully threw the ball in the air one time before throwing it to him. Harry caught the red ball, at once lost balance because of the quick movement and let it fall to the ground, clutching the bars to his sides to prevent falling, too.

He despised this exercise. Sara's well-trained stance, the way she held her arms, even if it was only for a slow, easy to catch throw, reminded him of his own encounter with ball sports he had had during his time at high school. Harry still remembered the thrill of catching a ball out of midair, spinning and firing it towards the goal, the cheers of the crowds when he scored. Annoyingly his body did not seem to remember.

Sara picked up the ball from the ground and calmly waited until Harry had taken his position again before throwing it another time. This time Harry managed to fling the ball back at her somehow before grabbing the bars.

"Okay, that's it, exercise finished," Harry pleaded.

"Nah, that was crap. Take a break, we'll try again."

Six trials later Harry managed to catch the ball and throw it back without losing most of his balance and was allowed to leave the plate finally.

"Not too bad," Sara tried to cheer him up as she helped Harry step off the machine and sit on the massage table. His legs still felt shaky.

"Not good either," Harry said darkly. "Massages?"

Sara nodded and watched as Harry scooted back before pulling his legs up. "You've been improving on all exercises for weeks, except on this one. You are not trying seriously enough."

Harry scowled as he pulled down his pants, trying to untangle his feet. "I am trying. It's just… not working."

"I saw that. It's important to work your core muscles and improve your balance. I don't have to tell you that." Sara moved to the other side of the table and started applying massage lotion on Harry's left leg.

"Hm…" Harry clenched his teeth as Sara's fingers started working his thigh muscle.

"Any unusual problems with muscle spasms lately?"

Harry shook his head and blinked away a tear as Sara moved from his thigh to less hurtful regions around his knee.

"Sorry, cutie, I know it hurts."

Harry nodded and took a deep breath, staring at the too well known ceiling, comparing the patterns of the panels to distract himself.

.

.

.

„Sir, the crutches need to go through the X-ray," the security officer yelled from his place next to the walk-through metal detector.

Harry nodded, knowing the procedure too well. The band-conveyor was already full and passengers were filing through the metal detector one by one in haste. It had been exceptionally crowded inside the airport since Harry had arrived to drop off his baggage. He assumed this was due to the strikes that had lasted weeks and had been only broken the day before yesterday. Now all the travelers that had missed their flights seemed on their way in addition to the regular ones.

The hustle had possibly been the reason for the delay in the arrival of a transport wheelchair, too. That had finally forced him into taking his crutches to get to the gate to avoid missing his flight. As he was quite familiar with the airport, he vaguely knew that his gate was one of the nearest to the security check-up. Combined with a general well-being of lately he had not found this decision a hard one to make. Booking a transport wheelchair had been a mere precaution he had taken out of habit.

A female security officer approached him from the right.

"Sir, is it possible for you to walk unsupported through the metal detector?"

Harry scanned the arc through which he had to walk. A woman just passing through flinched when the all too well-known alarm sound rang and she was waved to wait at the side.

"Sir? I'm sorry, this is airport policy. We can also do a manual check-up, if it suits you better."

Harry looked back into the eyes of the security officer that pierced him and shook his head. He wanted to avoid getting padded all over his body if he could. He did not know if this was stretching his luck too far but he was willing to give it a try. The security officer would not need to know that he had not walked unsupported for years outside physical therapy or his home, where he could hold on to walls and furniture.

Harry approached the walk-through metal detector on crutches, accompanied by the security officer. He stopped at the yellow line and disentangled his arms from the underarm crutches. "Would you mind?"

"I will make sure these go through the X-ray as fast as possible, Sir." With that the officer retreated.

Harry wished for a second she could have stayed, he felt rather helpless without his crutches, rooted to the spot.

"Next!" The brawny security officer at the other side of the metal detector bellowed, waiving his manual metal detection device at Harry.

Harry took a deep breath and sent a mental plea to his legs to not let him down. He judged the distance to the man on the other side. It could be not more than three steps. He took the first step moving his right leg forward quickly because his left did not take his weight for very long. He swayed slightly. His left foot joined his right, a lot slower. No dragging, that was good so far.

Another two steps to go. The officer was frowning now and Harry could feel a dozen pairs of eyes on his back. One step right, balance, left foot. His left leg started to tingle and Harry tried to ignore it. The last step was steadied by the officer on the other side of the metal detector.

"Thank you, sir," Harry muttered, clutching the arm of the officer for balance.

"Good job, boy," the man growled, patting his hand with a gigantic one. "Your crutches will take some time. Take a seat." With that he pushed a short stool towards Harry who let himself sink on it with a barely suppressed sigh.

A grin spread on Harry's face as the feeling of victory sank in. It had been a long time since he had last walked through a metal detector. He thanked the officer heartily when the man brought his crutched and went off towards the gate.

Harry arrived at the gate in time for boarding. He watched the first class passengers being called for boarding walk through the sliding door behind the airline desk - and down a flight of stairs. He groaned inwardly. Of course he had made sure there would be a jet bridge before he had agreed to go by foot but he had not imagined there to be steps even in that case. He approached the desk.

"Only first class passengers," the woman sitting behind the wooden table greeted him, her perfectly painted red mouth curving into a neat smile.

"Uh yeah... I'm here to ask if there is another way to board. A way without steps, actually?"

The woman raised an eyebrow. "You can't get down the stairs, sir?"

Harry resisted rolling his eyes and lifted his left crutch a little. "Yes, exactly. Look, I had booked a transport wheelchair but-"

"We could send him down to the wheelchair entrance. I'll tell the guys down there to let him through," the colleague of the woman, an overly eager young man supervising the boarding at the machines that scanned the boarding passes interrupted him, already his walky-talky out.

The woman seemed irritated about the interference of her colleague but after some scowling at the oblivious man she shrugged and turned her attention to Harry again. "Alright, I'll schedule you for priority boarding. You need to walk in this direction up to gate Z5. You'll find a lift there. Take it down one level and walk the same distance back in the opposite direction."

Harry thanked her, starting to feel like some bulky piece of luggage and followed down the direction he had been told, hoping gate Z5 was not too far away. He had thought for a second about challenging the stairs but it seemed he should not stretch his luck more than he already had.

He made it to the plane apparently before regular boarding and slowly shuffled through the deserted aisle in the economy part of the plane toward his seat. He had to walk slightly sideward for his feet and crutches to fit and frequently banged into one of the seats. The plane already started to fill up when he had just made himself comfortable in his window seat, squeezing his carry-on luggage in the small space between the seat and the plane's outer wall. A middle-aged man with a grey suit heaved his perfectly sized trunk in the compartment above their heads before taking the seat next to Harry, nodding in greeting.

The time went by surprisingly quick. They got served the usual meals and drinks on board and Harry watched a movie on the small screen at the back of the seat in front of him. He refrained from drinking much and succeeded in only having to get up once to go to the restroom.

His seat neighbor willingly stood up to let him out and seemed vaguely surprised when Harry produced his forearm crutches from under the seat and leaned over to place them close to the aisle. Harry folded up the armrest to his neighbor's seat and scooted over. Apologetic he looked up at the man waiting next to him. The other averted his eyes and mumbled something about taking all the time he needed. Standing up in the small space between the seats being much more challenging than sitting down it took Harry some time to arrange his legs and the crutches and heave himself up, one hand at the backrest of the seat in front of him, one grabbing the handle of his forearm crutch, the tip already placed outside the rows of seats. His flight neighbor helpfully offered him the second crutch that had been leaning against the seat and Harry took it, thanking him.

The flight had been smooth so far and as Harry made his way to the restrooms he prayed for it to stay that way, already the humming and vibrating floor playing tricks on his sense of balance. Still, he managed to get to the back of the plane where he skipped the small line to the restrooms and made it back safely upon releasing his bladder. He plopped down easily on the seat next to the aisle and transferred to his own seat by the same procedure that had gotten him out of the row. He reached over for his crutches and stored them under the seats once more. The apparent business man returned to his seat again.

The rest of the flight was uneventful and Harry tried to calm the excited flutter in his stomach that stemmed from finally going to Princeton but a lot more from the feeling of getting closer to Draco. He had not spoken to the blond since their last Skype call had ended with Harry cutting it short. There had been no word from Draco, no call or text, afterwards and Harry had been relieved at first until he realized that deep within him he had hoped for Draco to fight. That he had not done that, that Draco had given up on him so readily, hurt even more. But he told himself that he was over it, that both were better off this way and that he did not think of Draco anymore. At least not as frequently.

Upon landing in New York with only a slight delay in schedule Harry waited as usual until the plane had emptied before getting up. Shortly after exiting he was greeted by a flight attendant holding on to the wheelchair he had booked and, being tired after all, allowed being pushed down the gangway and towards immigration. There was a huge crowd even before they reached the hall they had been bound to and some people were audibly complaining, afraid they would miss their connecting flight. Apparently there was a long queue already at immigration but after some confusion and shouting the situation was relaxed by allowing those with connecting flights to go through. Harry's attendant merely pushed him after the small flock of now mollified passengers. Immigration went surprisingly smooth due to the fact that Harry had only recently entered the US and earlier than he had anticipated he received his trunk and transferred to his own wheelchair with barely suppressed relief. Minutes later he found himself in the queue that had formed in front of the exit, the attendant with his trunk at his side.

Harry spotted Ron's red hair among the people waiting outside for the newly arrived passengers at once. He waved and Ron smiled as he caught sight of him. Ron fought his way through the oncoming crowd and bent down to hug Harry, people voicing their irritation as they encountered the sudden obstacle and retreating with embarrassed expressions on their faces and mumbled apologies when they noticed the wheelchair.

"Good to see you man!" Ron sat back on his heels, his grin contagious and carefree as always and Harry managed to smile through the oncoming fatigue.

"Good to see you." Harry quickly squeezed Ron's hands that had slipped from his shoulders.

"Do you need any further assistance?"

Both of them startled, looking up at the attendant that met them with a bored look and pushed Harry's trunk towards Ron.

"No, thanks a lot." Harry smiled politely and the attendant nodded, turned and vanished faster than her high heels should allow.

Ron grabbed the trunk and they left the hall side by side.

"I borrowed my Dad's car," Ron told Harry. "It's big enough to get all your stuff inside."

Harry nodded in appreciation, hoping the car was not parked far away.

Ron beamed at him sideway. "So, are you ready to visit Princeton?"