Chapter 3

The sound made by the wheels changed, announcing their arrival at the manor. Anna squinted through the tinting covering the window to confirm their location. Abruptly, her cheerful banter resumed, waking the prone figure from his nap. Anna was pleased that he seemed to be rested and feeling better as he too attempted to look out the window.

Anna smiled broadly and announced, "We're home."

The black van entered the circular drive in front of the house and pulled to a stop. Boowie turned off the engine and got out of the driver's seat. Lumbering to the door, he opened it and was instantly hit by a blast of heat escaping. Anna slipped out from under her passenger and moved across the vehicle towards the door. Knowing there was no way to disembark the old man except with the help of the disgruntled driver, she fixed him with a hard look and commanded, "Hold out your arms."

Anna carefully lifted the man and wiggled and scooted him around to the door. She slowly slid him out of the vehicle and into the reluctant arms of Boowie.

Next, the young woman stepped out of the van and promptly collapsed to the ground.

"Miss?" Boowie asked.

"No, no, I'm fine. My legs just fell asleep," Anna said, a bit embarrassed, as she stood up and brushed off her skirt.

Anna held out her arms to retrieve her guest, and Boowie was happy to oblige.

Looking down at the man who was quietly watching her, she hurried up to the house, delighted with her accomplishment. If only her mother could see this. But, her mother aside, Anna was genuinely thrilled that he was here.

As she approached the front door, her house-elf, Sera, opened it right on cue. "Miss is here with the man," the small elf with the big eyes squealed excitedly.

Anna breezed through the door and headed down the hall, calling back, "Follow me, Sera."

She had worked all week to prepare his room – a first floor study with a beautiful view of the gardens and a big fireplace. She'd acquired a hospital bed and decked it out with new sheets, a spring green comforter, and a myriad of pillows. She also had a wheelchair waiting and had outfitted the bathroom just like the wizard at the medical equipment shop had suggested.

Her steps didn't slow as she half walked/half ran up the hall, cursing herself once more for not thinking ahead and pre-positioning the wheelchair at the front door. Again, her precious cargo was getting heavy.

"Sera, open the door to the room quickly," Anna said, almost breathless, "and light the fire."

Obediently, the elf scurried ahead, opened the large ornate door and then entered the room.

Anna, arriving outside the room, stepped carefully to wiggle the old man and herself into the room without physical harm.

"Sera, lower the guard on the bed."

The elf rushed and lowered the bar on the far side of the bed.

"No, no, lower the one on the other side."

Instantly the elf popped to the near side and lowered the other guard.

"Now close the other one," Anna said as she neared the bed, not wanting her charge to roll off of the bed and hit the floor within minutes of entering her house.

When the bed was prepared, Anna gently set the bedraggled man down, slipping her arms out from under him. She looked down at him with a mix of pride, joy, sorrow and fear.

"I'm sorry," she said, at first for the jostling of the arrival, but in that moment, seeing his face, she wanted, desperately wanted, to express her feelings. Why it had taken so long for her to come for him, and how she felt totally inadequate for the job of caring for him. But she bit back the words, unsure that once she started she'd ever stop. She settled simply for another, "I'm sorry."

He looked up at her with an expression of confusion, wondering why this woman would apologize for the miracle she'd wrought. She had plucked him, totally undeserving of such kindness, out of that hellhole. He didn't know why she'd done it; why she'd bothered. He didn't even know who she was.

Moments passed in silence with their eyes locked; each trying to express and understand the rush of emotions they felt and wanted to convey.

Anna couldn't bear the torrent of feelings washing over her. She lowered her head in a desperate attempt to forestall the tears she knew were just below the surface. She would work for the rest of his life to care for him, to make up for everything, but, right now, he didn't need to see her this way. She'd better pull herself together, wear a big smile and make him feel safe and welcomed – that's what he needed and deserved.

Lifting her head and pasting on the brightest smile she could muster, she tried to mask the deep emotions battling inside her.

"Come on, now, let's get you settled," she bustled, lifting the bed guard back up. She carefully lifted her cloak off his body and gently straightened his nightshirt. Reaching down, she grabbed one of the many blankets on the bed and pulled it over him, tucking it under his chin.

"I hope you're warming up, but let's turn the bed to face the fire, eh?"

In the large room, she was able to turn the wheeled bed completely around. Now the old man could see and, more importantly, feel the warmth from the large fire.

"How is that? Better?" Anna waited briefly in case he was going to answer.

"You know, we really need to figure out a way to communicate. Can you say 'yes' or 'no'?"

He thought about it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd said anything. There really hadn't been many people to talk to back in prison, not that he wanted to speak to any of them. The guards never spoke, and honestly, he'd always assumed that each day would be his last. How could they not sentence him to the Dementor's Kiss? How could he have been spared when those around him who were equally involved had been hauled off? Well, all except Severus. But then Severus died, and there was no one left to speak to.

But this woman had already done so much that he'd try. He opened his mouth and pushed air from his lungs, but all that came out was a hacking cough. In fact, a cough so deep it triggered a paroxysm of coughing. He turned on his side away from her and curled up in a fetal position, all the while violently coughing and desperately trying to breathe.

Terrified by his attack, Anna was momentarily frozen – not knowing what to do that would be of any help. She knew that there was truly nothing that she could do. Her doctor friend, Roscoe, would be here in the morning to assess him. But watching his body convulsing with coughs, she had to do something. Anna cautiously lowered the bed guard and sat next to him. She slowly leaned down and gathered the poor man in her arms, providing him with what little comfort she could just by her embrace.

He hated this, the coughing fits. He could usually keep them at bay by breathing very shallowly, but eventually the need overtook him. He hated it worse when the coughing came after meals because, more often than not, he'd lose the one and only meal of the day.

In the midst of cursing his life and everything in it, he thought he felt the bed shift slightly. He paid it no mind until a pair of arms encircled him. Her movements startled him as she gently held him. The coughing continued as it always did, ejecting whatever material his lungs had deemed unhealthy. He was both comforted by her touch and embarrassed at the thought of the mess that would inevitably be left after such a fit.

She held him tentatively at first, but the embrace grew tighter as the violent convulsing persisted. She was still terrified that his frail body wouldn't tolerate the shaking and would fall to pieces at any moment.

They stayed together like this throughout his fit – holding and being held. After what seemed like an eternity, his coughing and shaking abated. Anna waited until she was sure the attack had run its course. She gave him a final squeeze and sat up.

"Well, that was something, wasn't it?"

He didn't move, too worried about what he might now look like. His eyes focused in front of him as he saw the small spots of blood that insulted the cheery light green blankets she'd honored him with. He would have reached out to try and wipe them away if he could have moved his arm, but the fit and his life in general had left him feeling weak and hollow.

Unfortunately, but as he expected, she got off the bed and came around to the other side.

"Oh, dear," she said quietly as she assessed what lay before her.

He felt embarrassed and humiliated.

"Well, I guess you shouldn't try singing opera if this is what happens when you try to speak, eh?" she said brightly.

His brain paused for a moment. Was that a joke? Gratitude quickly replaced his embarrassment as he peered up at her smiling face. Mustering all he could, he slowly but distinctly nodded his head.

Lowering her head to his level, she excitedly exclaimed, "Yes? Yes? Was that a yes?"

He attempted a smile, caught up in her excitement, and nodded again.

"Good. Excellent." And, just to ensure that they had established a means of communication, "Can you also shake your head 'No'?"

Looking up in her face, he slowly shook his head.

"Excellent," she said, but immediately stopped, fixing him with a suspicious look. "Wait, was that 'yes, I can say no' or was that 'no, I can't say no'?"

His face reflected his amusement at her consternation. There was even a bit of a smirk.

"Oh, you! You've got a streak of mischief, don't you?" she chided him warmly.

"Now we've got to get you cleaned up. I think it's time for a bath," she announced.

Fear shot through him – vaporizing his previous amusement. How was this going to work?

"Sera," she called out, and the brown eyed elf instantly popped into the room. "Sera, run a warm bath in the tub, and then, when we're in there, change the bed clothes here."

"Yes, Miss," the elf replied as she scurried into the en-suite bath.

Now the old man was really nervous. First, he didn't remember the last time he'd had a good washing, and second, well, um, she was, you know, a girl who was at least 25 years younger them him and, and, and ...

But his concerns were brushed aside as Anna made short work of getting him out of bed, into the wheelchair, and off to the bath.

She leaned down and asked gently if he needed to use the toilet. He shook his head emphatically no. He was, instead, riveted to the full, warm and inviting bathtub in front of him. Anna produced her wand and flicked it at the bath, muttering some kind of charm. Immediately the tub was filled with puffy white bubbles.

Stopping the wheelchair at the edge of the tub, Anna tried to cover her own slight embarrassment with busyness.

"Ok, let's get you into the tub," she said, her words tinged with concern at the prospect of bathing him. Truth be known, she was also worried about how to maintain his dignity throughout this process. She quickly plucked the hat off his head and then moved around to drag his socks from his feet, tossing the garments in a pile on the floor. Looking up at him, she struck on an idea of how to get that nightshirt off gracefully.

Stepping to the side of the wheelchair, she reached out and lifted him, nightshirt and all, and swiftly but gently deposited him into the tub.

The look on his face was priceless. If Anna hadn't been so concerned that the temperature of the water would somehow kill him, she'd have burst out laughing. He was surprised and stunned and confused and warmed all at once. And just as quickly, Anna slid her hands down his sides and grasped the end of his nightshirt and began wiggling it out from underneath his body.

A few more tugs and pulls and she had the sodden garment off over his head and tossed it on the heap of his other clothes on the bathroom floor.

"OK, now for the rest of it."

Thanking the fates for the everlasting bubble charm, the old man watched as she valiantly reached in and took hold of his underpants on each side.

"Now when I pull, promise you won't slide under the water and drown," she said, using a joke to hide her discomfort.

He nodded and did his best to brace himself against the sides of the tub.

As if to cover what she was doing and to preserve his dignity, she babbled on, "Yes, wouldn't want you to die within an hour of getting to your new home, now would we?" Her prattle never ceased as she cautiously slid his underpants off and down his legs.

"I hope the water is warm enough for you. If not, I'll spell it hotter." After freeing the garment from his body, she quickly tossed it on the pile with the rest of his clothes.

"There we go. Are you all right now? Is the water warm enough? Do you need anything? You're not going to slip under the water, are you? If not, can I step out and get you some new clothes?"

Suddenly her barrage of questions halted as she took in the look on his face. He was stymied as to how to answer all of her questions at once. Heck, he couldn't remember what her first question was.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I am a bit of a chatterbox in case you hadn't noticed." The sardonic look on his face clearly conveyed, 'No, I hadn't noticed at all,' complete with a passable smirk.

"OK, let's try that again. Just 'yes' or 'no' questions, alright?"

He nodded.

"OK. First, are you okay just now?"

He nodded.

"Next, is the water warm enough?"

He nodded again.

"Is it too warm?"

He shook his head; although he thought he could tolerate it a bit warmer, he figured he shouldn't push his luck at this point.

"Do you need anything?"

He shook his head.

"Do you feel like you might slip under the water or should I hold you up?"

He firmly shook his head. No, he may not be as strong as he used to be, but he was tall enough that his feet touched the far end of the tub enough to keep his head above the water.

"Good, now do you think I can step out to get you some new clothes? I wouldn't want you to die while I was gone."

He nodded his head, not to the fear that he might die but that she could go and do her chores.

"Good, I'll be back shortly." Turning, she drew her wand and flicked it at the pile of clothes on the floor. They promptly burst into flames and incinerated. Anna was not going to chance cleaning them; first, because they were ugly and scratchy and she had bought him better stuff, and second, because she worried that they might contain any number of creepy crawlies.

With a last check on her guest to ascertain his well being, she left the room with a chipper, "Be right back."