Chapter 18:
Fifth Birthday
Jeremiah's death made Matthew lose all of the hope that he had possessed in his little body. He talked only when he had to, refused to eat but one meal a day, and had lost all interest in Quidditch, dinosaurs, and cereal. As the only child still in the cancer ward of the hospital, he no longer had Thursday meetings to look forward to, nor did he have anyone his own age to raise his spirits. In short, he had no shown emotions. The only time that Hermione could tell that Matthew was still hurting from losing Jeremiah was when he had chemo treatments, during which he sat listlessly in his hospital bed and stared without blinking to his left, to the empty chair that Jeremiah always sat in. Without Jeremiah's fun and upbeat attitude, Matthew's chemotherapy hurt worse than ever and left him weaker and sicker.
Yet through it all, Matthew refused to complain. The truth was, he was ready to quit fighting, ready to give into the cancer that was being pulsed throughout his body by the beating of his small heart. There was nothing that he needed to say, no thoughts that went through his brain. He realized that he would have to die since Jeremiah had; they had had almost identical cases. But even though logically he knew he would have to die, he remembered how Jeremiah had said that you would know if you weren't going to make it or not, and until Jeremiah's death, Matthew had always been so certain that he would survive.
Apparently, he was wrong, he thought. Jeremiah hadn't lived, so neither would he.
Matthew's lethargy grew so much that he no longer wanted to go outside to fly or watch the stars, a thing that broke Harry's heart to pieces. His son was almost upon his fifth year on earth, and he no longer had a childish wonder; no longer believed in miraculous happenings. In fact, five years after his birth, he was ready to leave the world behind him.
On the morning of June 18th, Harry went into Matthew's room early in the morning, preparing to sing Happy Birthday to his son, even though he knew that Matthew would probably just ignore his off pitch voice. Sure enough, when Harry turned on the lights and Matthew opened his dark eyelids slowly, he looked at Harry for a moment before turning his head to the wall. Harry sighed and blinked back the tears that formed in his emerald eyes.
"Matthew, you've got to get out of bed. It's your birthday! We can make pancake people and…"
"I'm not hungry." Matthew's voice was quiet and monotonous.
"Matthew, please!"
"Daddy, I don't want to!" Harry suppressed a little sigh and walked to the bed.
"Matthew, son, I want the best for you. Please get out of bed and spend your fifth birthday as normally as possible. Matthew sighed and turned over to face Harry, blinking for a moment. Harry walked over and picked him up gently. "Are you feeling any better today?"
"Not really."
"Do you think you'd feel better if we went on a short little flight? I promise we can stop the second you start to feel more tired."
Matthew shrugged. He pulled the bed sheet off of him and slowly got out of bed, touching his baldhead as if to ruffle the hair before pulling his hand back in remembrance. Harry forced a smile and went to Matthew's dresser, pulling out some clothes for the small boy to wear. He headed to the bed; ready to put the clothes on his son. Matthew sighed heavily and lifted his arms with strained effort to allow Harry to stick the shirt on over his head. His pants were put on with the same apathetic movements.
When Matthew was dressed for the day, Harry picked him up from his perch on the racecar bed and held him close to his heart. Matthew put his thin arms around Harry's neck limply. Harry sighed and headed downstairs. Hermione was already in the kitchen, a whole batch of pancake men on a plate.
"Happy Birthday, my little man! Do you want a pancake person?"
Matthew looked at her blankly, slowly stretching out his hand to take a person from the plate. He nibbled the head off before putting it back on the plate.
"I don't want anymore, Mommy." Hermione gave a look of concern, but Harry shook his head.
"Matthew, will you please try to eat some more after we come back from our flight?"
Matthew nodded and Hermione groaned. "Harry, dear, is that a good idea, letting him fly?" Her voice was quiet but it reverberated through the silent kitchen. Harry nodded slowly and walked towards the back door with Matthew in his arms. Hermione thought to follow, but decided this should be a strictly father/son moment.
Matthew made no movement and no noise as Harry tried to make conversation on the way to the broom shed. He sat Matthew carefully on the ground, telling him not to move as he got his Firebolt out. The Firebolt was Matthew's favorite broom. When Harry emerged from the broom shed, Matthew was sitting forlornly in the same spot he was in when Harry had left. Harry forced a smile and knelt beside his son.
"Are you ready to fly?" Matthew merely looked at him. Harry sighed and picked him up gently, placing him on the broom in front of him. Harry took off, Matthew leaning like a rag doll on his father's stomach. He tried to talk, but Matthew didn't seem to care for words. Harry looked down at his son, and the sight nearly broke his heart. The same boy, only two years ago, had ridden on this same broom in this same place, laughing and squealing with the thrill of flight. Now he could barely summon the energy to hold onto the broom. His thick black hair was now almost completely gone and his bright green eyes were lacking their usual luster. His face was pale and his eyelids were dark, giving him the unhealthy look of an underfed, half-dead man. And on his left arm, where that horrific IV went in during treatments, was a huge, black bruise, caused by his easy bruising and the inability to cease using that arm. Matthew's eyes were silent and out of focus, obviously thinking about something other than flying. Harry tried to suppress a sob, but it came out anyway, a big fat teardrop plopping on the top of Matthew's hairless skull. Matthew, shaken from his reverie, looked up into his Daddy's tear-filled emerald eyes.
"Daddy, what's wrong?"
"N-Nothing," Harry sniffed as more tears began to threaten. "Actually, yes it is something, Matthew. I love you so much, and I don't want to see you giving up. Please tell me what is wrong and I will try to help you!"
"You can't help me." Matthew said sadly.
"I will if I can! Oh, gosh, if I could, I would take all that cancer from your body and put in myself so you'd be okay! You seemed to be doing fine, but now you just seem to have given up! Please tell me what's wrong!" Matthew looked down, his eyes oddly out of focus again.
"He died, Daddy. And he was just like me. I always wanted to be just like him, but now that he's gone… I'm sorry, Daddy."
"No! You don't have to give up just because Jeremiah died." Matthew's breath hitched as he heard the name. "Yes, I said his name, but he wouldn't want you to give up because of him!"
"Our cases were so the same, that there's no way I can make it."
"Matthew, baby, please don't say that! The rest of your life can't be determined by Jeremiah's
life!"
"Why?"
Harry sighed and wiped his eyes roughly with his hand. "You can't determine what's going to happen in your life by basing it off of someone else's life. Yes, Jeremiah died, and I know you miss him so bad that it hurts you, but you can't give up just because he's gone!"
A little tear from Matthew's eye dripped onto Harry's hand. "I miss him, Daddy. He was my best friend."
Harry's heart broke even farther. "I know, son. Jeremiah was a great person, and I know you admired him so much. But he's not the only friend you'll ever have. There will be more friends, more adventures, and more flights before your life will really be over! Please keep fighting, for me, for your mother, for Jeremiah…"
Matthew grew silent and refused to reply. Harry's eyes filled again and he brought their flight to a stop, holding Matthew close to him as they touched the ground. Matthew turned to him and rested his little head on Harry's shoulder.
"Everybody's left me, Daddy. I'm the only one left at the hospital."
"I know, baby, I know." Harry patted Matthew's shiny head in a reassuring manner.
"And Scarlett and Rhett left me, too."
"Oh, Matthew, they'll have to see you again after you get better."
Harry picked him up and began to walk towards the house; Matthew leaned up against Harry's shoulder, his hands balled in Harry's hair. When they were close to the patio, Matthew leaned up and hiccupped before whispering in Harry's ear.
"I'm sorry, Daddy. But I don't think I'll ever get better." Harry patted his back, wanting to say something to prove his son wrong, but not knowing quite what words to say. Hermione, standing on the patio, looked at Harry curiously.
"Harry, you've been crying! What's wrong?"
Harry shook his head and walked inside, passing her in an attempt to not let her see Matthew's tear-stained face. Harry and Matthew went through the rest of the day in a severed silence, speaking only when Hermione made forced conversation. Matthew opened his birthday presents carelessly, not even getting excited when he saw that one of his presents was a complete works of Wallace and Gromit DVD. At six o' clock, his eyes began to droop, and Hermione took him quietly upstairs where he fell asleep almost instantly. She stayed in his room for a quarter of an hour before going back downstairs to find Harry sitting at the dinner table, his head in his hands and salty tears dripping into the coke that sat before him.
"Harry, dear," Hermione came to the table and sat beside him. "What ever is wrong? You've been so sad all day long."
"He's giving up, Hermione." Harry's voice was flat. "Jeremiah died, and Matthew thinks he has to die in return." Hermione tried to speak but her voice was destroyed by an impending sob. "He always wanted to be like Jeremiah, and now that Jeremiah's died, Matthew thinks he's going to, too."
"Harry…" Hermione breathed.
"I just don't know where everything went wrong!" Harry's voice had become high and boyish.
"When all this started, I thought that there was no way that God would ever take him from us, but now I'm not
so sure! I love him so much, Hermione!"
Hermione nodded in agreement, before giving a watery kiss to Harry's forehead. "Hold me, Harry." She breathed, her words sounding like something from a cheesy soap opera. Harry stood up and held her close to him, enveloping her lips in a reassuring kiss. She kissed him back with anguished fervor and allowed him to pick her up in his arms. He stumbled upstairs to their bedroom, sealing the door with a silencing charm behind them. They got situated on the bed and joined together as one, not with the fiery passion they had had the night that Matthew had been conceived. No, this joining together was full of sorrow, anguish, and longing. They melted into each other, longing to help vanquish the pain and heartache that was coursing through both bodies, being together for the first time in a long time. When they climaxed together, they stayed awake long into the night holding each other and trying to help heal the pain that both felt for their precious baby boy, not so much a baby anymore as a little weakened warrior.
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