When Harry and Lily landed back at Potter Cottage, Harry was once more able to keep his balance. He was getting used to the sensation of apparition, which was quickly becoming his second favorite method of magical travel. His favorite method would always be flying.

Harry followed Lily up the front path, but the force of a sneeze stopped him in his tracks.

"Bless you," Lily said, sounding concerned. She stopped and turned to face him.

Harry scrubbed at his itching nose, then tucked his hand into his pocket. "I'm fine."

"Here, take this," Lily said, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing a plain handkerchief, handing it to Harry with a smile.

Harry took the handkerchief and blew his nose with it. Then he stared at the soiled handkerchief, unsure what to do with it.

"Allow me," Lily said. She vanished the handkerchief with her wand. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," Harry repeated, smiling this time to reinforce the words.

"Then why don't we go inside."

Harry nodded, then started walking towards the house again. He stepped to the side of the front door so Lily could unlock it, then he followed her into the house. Lily stopped in the entryway and turned to face Harry.

"Would you like help unpacking your new things and decorating your room?"

Harry thought for a moment, considering. He was nearly certain that Lily's offer was sincere, and that she wouldn't mind helping, but he still wasn't sure he wanted help. It had been a long day of shopping, and he was beginning to feel very worn down. The thought of being alone in his room was appealing.

"I can unpack myself," Harry decided.

Lily nodded. "Alright, why don't you head upstairs, and I'll send the packages up after you?"

"Thank you," Harry said, smiling. He turned to walk up the stairs, his gait heavy from fatigue.

When he arrived upstairs, he sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands. The shopping trip had taken far more out of him than it ought to have. Moments after he had sat down, the resized packages began to float into his room. With a monumental effort, Harry got to his feet and grabbed the first package out of the air.

Package after package followed the first, and Harry started to make a stack of them in the corner of the room. It had been easy to forget just how much had been purchased when everything was shrunken and stowed out of sight, but now Harry was confronted with just how much Lily had bought for him.

After he stacked the last package, Harry had to sit down on the bed again. He was collapsing under the tide of guilt and shock, brought on by the realization of how much money Lily must have spent on him.

Harry had known that they had purchased a good deal of items, but the height of the pile was shocking. Harry didn't need this much stuff! He just needed a couple outfits and uniforms for school, not this wardrobe large enough to satisfy even Malfoy.

This was too much.

But it was already done, and Lily had made it quite clear that she had wanted to do this for him. So, Harry took a deep breath and did his best to shake off the guilt.

Getting up a second time was even harder than the first, somehow. Harry was still exhausted, and on top of that, his back was beginning to ache, probably from all the lifting of packages he had done. Shoving the discomfort and fatigue down, Harry trudged over to the pile in the corner and started to unpack the boxes.

"Harry! It's time for dinner!" Lily called from the kitchen.

Harry groaned and got to his feet. He had been sitting on the floor, sorting the clothes into piles to make them easier to put away later. His back was aching worse than ever, and he was even starting to get a headache. That was probably because it had been a while since he'd had water— he would have to remedy that with dinner.

Harry hurried through the house as best as he could with his body aching as much as it did.

"Good evening, Harry," James greeted as Harry entered the kitchen.

"Good evening," Harry returned. "How was work?"

James shrugged and shook his head. "Today was a paperwork day, so very deeply boring. Tomorrow's not looking much better, either. There's just so much paperwork," he lamented.

Harry nodded solemnly. "That's awful," he said. James did seem to be exaggerating, but even still, Harry hadn't thought about having to do paperwork when he'd considered being an auror at his career meeting.

James returned Harry's nod. "Enough about my paperwork woes though, how was shopping with Lily?"

Harry forced himself to smile. The emotion was genuine, but he lacked the energy to express himself with ease. "It was great! We got all the things I need."

James threw a grin at Lily, who was standing by the stove and serving the meal out onto plates. "And some things that you don't need, I'm sure," James said, sly.

"Uh," Harry said, looking from James to Lily, unsure what to say.

"Ignore him, Harry, he's just disappointed he didn't get to help buy you extraneous things," Lily said.

"No, I'm not," James said.

"Yes, you are," Lily replied. She held up her hand, stopping James from speaking. "How about this, when we go to get Harry from Kings Cross, you may take them both shopping."

James paused. "Just because that sounds like a great plan doesn't mean you're right."

Harry glanced at Lily, who was staring at him with one knowing eyebrow raised. Harry felt caught in a situation that was way over his head to comprehend— especially with his head throbbing— so he plastered another smile onto his face and went to take his seat.

"If saying that makes you feel better, dear, then go right ahead. But we both know that I am right."

James made a funny face in response, then went back to setting the table. Harry requested a glass of water with his dinner, but even downing it didn't do much to dislodge his headache.

Throughout dinner, Harry could tell that he was concerning Lily and James with his lack of appetite. He never ate all that much, but he knew he was picking at his meal even less than normal. Harry was beginning to suspect that he wasn't just tired— that he was sick, but he refused to accept it.

Aside from a few sideways looks from both Lily and James, Harry was allowed to pick at his food in peace. They did try to draw him into conversation a few times, but Harry didn't have the energy to respond, despite his desire to. Harry hoped that they didn't think he was being rude.

By the time Harry trudged upstairs after dinner, he was forced to come to terms with the fact that he was getting sick.

But when Harry stepped foot inside the guest room, he was confronted by the sight of the stack of still unpacked purchases. His head and body were aching, but he pushed through it to head over to the closet.

Harry wasn't sure how long it took him to finish putting the clothes away, but by the time he finally collapsed into bed, he was exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, that he was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

Harry awoke to the sound of himself hacking. It was the sort of cough that burned on its way up the trachea and left behind an unpleasant feeling. As soon as Harry was cognizant of what he was doing, he buried his mouth in the crook of his elbow to try and muffle the sound of his coughing.

Once the fit had passed, Harry tossed his arm off his face and collapsed back against the pillow, exhausted.

Harry was still breathing heavily, his breath raspy in his throat. It was now undeniable that he was sick. Harry groaned and pressed his arm over his eyes. Of course he was sick. Nothing in his life could ever go right. And from the rattling in his chest, he could tell that this wasn't an insignificant illness either.

Harry heard the sound of bodies shifting from Lily and James's room and froze, concerned that he had woken them up with his coughing fit.

Harry hoped to keep his sickness from Lily and James. They had already done so much for Harry that he didn't want to burden them with his illness too. Since both adults had to work during the day, all Harry had to do was hide it from them until they left for work.

The sounds from the other room settled, and Harry relaxed again. He'd had every muscle in his body tensed to prevent any chance of a sound escaping, and as he relaxed the muscles in his chest, another racking cough escaped from him.

Harry flipped over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow to muffle the sounds.

Despite his best efforts to fall back asleep, the rest of the night passed in much the same way. Harry would finally relax from his latest close call, but then the release of tension in his chest would induce another coughing fit. Most times, he would then hear the sound of shifting from Lily and James's room, which would make him freeze in panic again.

It was a vicious cycle, and by the time Harry could see the sun rising through his window, he was feeling weak and pathetic.

At some point in the night, he had broken out into a cold sweat and begun to shiver. The blankets did little to help, but he kept himself wrapped as tightly in them as he could manage with his weakened limbs.

The sun progressed higher into the sky, and Harry could hear the sounds of Lily and James awakening for work. Harry sighed in relief, soon Lily and James would be gone, and he wouldn't have to worry about suppressing the sound of his coughing.

Earlier in the night, Harry had planned to head downstairs for food as soon as the house was empty, but now he wanted nothing more than to lay in bed in peace.

It seemed to take endless amounts of time for Lily and James to work through their morning routines. Tracking their movements through the house was both boring and anxiety-inducing— Harry knew that if either adult chose to look in on him, it would be obvious that he was not well.

Harry hadn't had the energy to get out of bed and clean himself up before Lily and James had gotten up and now, he was paying the price for his laziness. He jumped every time a door opened, consumed with anxiety that this time Lily or James was coming to check on him.

The third time this happened, Harry had the idea to bury his head under the pillow. If none of him was visible, then nothing of his well-being would be discernible. The added protection of his pillow gave him the peace of mind to relax ever so slightly.

In the end though, it wouldn't have mattered how presentable he looked while pretending to sleep, because Harry had forgotten something very important.

"Harry?" James called, knocking on the door as he opened it. "It's time to get up! Did you forget you're supposed to talk to the Unspeakables today?"

The words were slow to penetrate Harry's muddled mind. When they did, his eyes snapped open, and he started to struggle his way out of the cocoon of blankets.

James chuckled. "I take it you did forget. What do you want for break—"

When Harry had struggled free of the cocoon, James cut himself off.

"Oh my," James said, shocked.

Harry froze. He had been trying to drag himself out of bed so he could get ready to leave for the Ministry, but he stopped in his tracks when he heard the shock in James's voice.

James hurried the rest of the way into the room and pressed the back of his hand to Harry's forehead.

"You're burning up," James muttered. He pulled his hand away and surveyed Harry, who was still frozen in a sitting position on the bed.

Harry shrugged. "It's probably just a cold. I can be—" he stopped to cough into the crook of his elbow— "be ready to go in a couple of minutes."

James shook his head. "You are going to get right back into bed, and then I am going to call into work. You are in no condition to be by yourself, let alone to be going for an interview."

Harry tried to protest, but he was too tired, and James was too determined. In no time at all, Harry found himself lying down in bed, bundled up in the blankets once more.

"Lily has already left for work, but I will be back to check on you as soon as I'm done calling into work," James said before turning to exit the room.

Once he was gone, Harry allowed himself to groan quietly. So much for keeping his illness to himself. Now, not only did James know about it, but he was taking off of work to take care of Harry, of all things. Harry didn't need to be taken care of; he was more than used to looking out for himself while he was sick.

And on top of that, Harry would be missing the meeting with the Unspeakables. He couldn't believe he had forgotten about that— he had been looking forward to learning more about this new world.

Harry sighed and wiggled under the absurdly tight blankets to loosen them just a bit. James had been a little overenthusiastic when he had bundled Harry up, and while the memory of it still sent warm feelings through Harry's chest, his limbs were beginning to lose feeling.

Harry began to doze, his rest interrupted every so often with a coughing fit that he no longer bothered to try and hide. The coughing was still disruptive enough that he couldn't fall asleep, but he was able to rest more easily without the worry of being discovered.

Sometime later, James came back into the room, carrying a tray of food. "Harry? Are you awake?" he whispered.

"Yes," Harry returned, struggling to sit up beneath the tangle of blankets.

James released the tray, leaving it to hover in mid-air where he had been standing, and went to help Harry sit up. James conjured a thick pillow behind Harry's back to help keep him propped up.

Harry blushed under the attention, but he was unable to deny that it felt, well, nice.

Once Harry was positioned in bed, James waved his wand to call the tray of food over.

"I brought you some light food, uh, applesauce, lightly buttered toast, a banana," James said, setting the tray on Harry's lap.

Harry didn't feel hungry, but he knew that he hadn't eaten much the night before. And on top of that, James had gone to all the trouble to bring him food. This was sufficient pressure to drive Harry to pick up the spoon and begin eating small bites of applesauce.

A quick glance up, and Harry saw that James was watching him. Harry wondered why he was still here; Harry wasn't so sick that he couldn't get through a meal on his own. But it was not worth the energy it would take to tell James this, so Harry kept his head down and worked his way through as much of the food on the tray as he could.

This, it turned out, was not much.

With a twinge of guilt, Harry pushed the tray away from himself, trying not to look at how much food was left on it. "I'm done eating," Harry said, glancing up at James.

James moved forward to take the tray, then stopped with a slight frown. "Are you sure you can't eat anymore?"

Harry's gut tightened as he registered the disappointment in James's gaze. He was full though, and he didn't think he could stomach any more food without being sick. He nodded.

The disappointed look fell off of James's face and he picked up the tray. Then he set the tray back down and drew his wand, transfiguring the empty glass of water on the tray into a bell. "Go ahead and ring this if you need anything, I'll be back in a bit to check in on you."

Then James picked up the tray again and headed out of the room.

Harry leaned back against the large pillow, a bit dazed from the interaction. James had done what he had said he would do, and he had been very kind about it too. Harry hadn't thought that James would be mean about taking care of Harry, but the utter lack of exasperated sighs or annoyed looks was above and beyond what he could have dreamed of.

In fact, the only negative emotion James had expressed had been disappointment when Harry had finished eating. And Harry knew quite well that that had been because James had thought that Harry should have eaten more. Hermione and Ron had given him that very look often enough that Harry could recognize it with no trouble at all.

But the problem was that this was all unnecessary. James didn't need to take off work to care for him, James didn't need to deliver food to Harry on a tray, James didn't need to make a bell so Harry could call him. It was all too much.

Harry resolved to explain this to James the next time the man came by, since there was no way that Harry would interrupt whatever James was doing with the bell.

James came to check in on Harry several more times throughout the day, but because Harry continued to feel worse as time progressed, it was several visits before he remembered to talk to James.

The shivers worsened, his cough refused to budge, and at some point, his nose even started running. There were times where Harry floated in and out of sleep, the line between wakefulness and dreamland eventually becoming so blurred that Harry could no longer tell with any certainty if he was awake or asleep.

The fact that it was James, a man Harry still thought of as dead more often than alive, checking in on him did not help with matters.

During one of his periods of lucidity, Harry realized just how much time James had spent checking in on him. It had to have been James's main focus all day, and this realization made Harry's stomach hurt in a way that was entirely unrelated to his sickness.

Harry resolved then to inform James that all the attention was unnecessary the very next time he came to check in on Harry. This plan felt oddly familiar, but he shook off the feeling and fell into a doze once more.

Harry became aware that someone was knocking at the door. The knock was measured and calm, so Harry couldn't fathom who it could be. If any of the Dursleys deigned to knock on his door, it was more of an urgent pounding that promised trouble if Harry failed to respond.

"Come 'n," Harry responded, dragging his— oddly aching— body out of bed. There was something off about the room, and there was something that Harry had meant to do the next time someone came in…

Before Harry could make it any further than swinging his legs off the side of the bed, the door opened.

"I'm sorry, I was—" Harry coughed— "coming!" He struggled to get his feet under him so he could stand up properly. He couldn't believe he was showing this much weakness, but he was just so tired— though, that had never kept him from hiding his weakness before.

"Harry, what are you doing out of bed?" James asked, rushing forward and pushing down on Harry's shoulders so he was sitting back on the bed.

The concern in the man's face and the tenderness with which he handled Harry was all too much, and yet, not enough. Harry remained passive as James tucked him back into bed, then as James set a tray of food on Harry's lap. The worry in James's face drove Harry to force as much of the food down as he could before his stomach rebelled.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" James asked, his voice laden with worry.

Harry's chest pulled and he felt a lump lodge in his throat. "I'm fine," he whispered. Then he remembered his plan— plans?— from earlier and attempted to clear his throat.

This set him off on another coughing fit. Harry was forced to hunch over as the wracking cough tore its way through his body, burning his lungs and scratching at his throat as it went. James came rushing forward to rub his back, and the sensation was so warm and so vivid against the pain of the coughing that Harry felt himself begin to cry.

Harry pulled away from the half-embrace James had pulled him into and turned to bury his face in his hands.

James started to turn around, then stopped. "Do you mind if I sit down?" he asked, gesturing to the edge of the bed.

Harry shook his head, refusing to remove his face from his hands.

James finished sitting down and placed a warm, heavy hand on Harry's shoulder.

Despite his embarrassment, Harry felt himself lean into the touch.

"You know it's alright to be taken care of when you're sick, right?" James asked after a long pause.

Harry's tears had petered off, and he had been considering the possibility of removing his hands from his face, but now he froze. He pressed his hands against his face even harder and shook his head.

"Everyone gets sick sometimes," James persisted, "and everyone deserves to have someone take care of them when they do get sick."

Harry shook his head again, doing his best to fend off memories of all the times he'd been sick at the Dursleys, all the times he'd been locked in the cupboard to fend off an illness, all the times his cries for help had gone unanswered.

James sighed and moved his hand from Harry's shoulder to his back and started rubbing it in soothing circles. They remained like that for several long moments, Harry's breath shuddering and weak as he fended off his memories, James a silent, soothing presence behind him.

"You can talk to me about anything," James said suddenly. "I know we've just met, but I want you to know that I'm here for you and willing to listen to anything you want to tell me."

Harry's breath began to come heavier and his mind went blank as he processed what James was asking him to do. But then James slid even closer, pressing his side against Harry's and wrapping his arm around Harry's shoulders.

"You're going to get yourself sick," Harry muttered.

Harry felt James shrug behind him.

"I already accepted that would happen," James said, his voice full of acceptance. "It is a fact of life that when a child gets sick, the parent gets sick soon after."

Parent. At this word, Harry twisted around in James's arms to look the man in the face. "But you're not my parent, I don't have any parents. I've never had any because I'm an orphan."

The pressure on his side and shoulders never wavered.

"Just because there hasn't been someone there for you in the past, doesn't mean that you don't deserve to have someone here for you now."

"But I don't deserve to have you!" Harry protested, a heavy feeling in his gut and a twisting sensation in his chest. "I'm the reason I'm an orphan! I'm the reason you're dead."

Harry gasped as he processed what he'd said, then he scrambled away so forcefully that he fell off the bed. He landed heavily and started scooting away as fast as he could from where James was still seated on the bed. When Harry's back hit the wall, he pulled his knees up to his chest, laid his forehead down on his knees, and wrapped his arms around his head.

James got up from the bed and with each step he took closer to Harry, Harry tensed further. James stopped a pace or two away and sat down himself.

"That's not true," James said, his voice calm and even. "I know very little about your universe, but I have learned some things about you. And those things I've learned tell me that you did not murder your own parents."

Harry shook his head, denying James's words, unable to believe them.

"Harry, please look at me," James pleaded.

Without thought, Harry found himself complying, lowering his hands and lifting his head. As their eyes met, Harry found himself pinned in place by the intensity of James's gaze.

Harry remained transfixed as James reached out and took Harry's hands in his. James gave them a squeeze, then spoke. "I know that you did not hold your wand to their heads. I know that you did not use a knife, or poison, or muggle weaponry to murder them. I know that you did not pay an assassin to do the deed for you, and I know that you didn't in any other way conspire to murder your parents.

"Any series of events that led to their death may have involved you, but your involvement does not mean that you killed them. Do you understand me? You did not kill your parents."

Harry had started shaking with James's first words, and by the time James had finished speaking, Harry had dissolved into tears again. He tried to pull away from James, to turn away and hide his shame, but James refused to let go.

Harry shuddered and ducked his head down as a sob surged up through his chest. It was a spluttering mess, making him cough and hack and his face burn in shame.

James finally released Harry's hands, but before Harry could turn away and hide his face, James had pulled Harry into a tight embrace. Harry buried his face in James's chest and squeezed his eyes shut as the sobs continued to come.

They stayed there, on the floor, Harry wrapped in James's arms, until long after Harry's sobs had subsided, and he had fallen asleep against James's chest.

AN: please don't forget to let me know what you thought! and don't forget to join my discord server for better sneak peaks and other cool stuff! invite code: FZ6thg5

can't wait to see you there!