370 It's flu season! Are you ill? What are your preferred remedies?
Harry doesn't remember much about his mother. Time has taken away most of the memories, and sometimes he questions the ones he still holds on tight too. Like did she really used to sing to him when he was ill, or was that something he made up in a desperate attempt to cling to something of her. Would his father even had allowed her near Harry when he was ill given her own fragile medical state?
The memory feels real though. Cool palm on his forehead, brushing back careless curls, as she sings some Stevie Nicks song to him. The hot tea with honey and lemon is sweet and tangy, and she swears he'll feel so much better if he drinks it all the way down. There's a smile on her face when he wrinkles his nose at the first taste, but then he does as instructed. It warms him from the inside out, and he believes her touch and voice soothes as easily as the tea does.
Memories are strange that way. A cup of hot tea with honey and lemon on the way to class while you're fighting off the tell tale signs you're getting sick can transport you back in time to something that feels real. Something that feels as comforting as chicken soup and a warm blanket. He's not sick. Harry refuses to be sick when he has classes to attend. He can't be sick when his children are likely to be down with the flu or a cold any day now. Kara doesn't need to have to deal with a sick husband on top of that, but for a moment, he almost feels like he's back in the penthouse and he can hear his mother's voice.
It almost makes him wish he was sick.
The memory feels real though. Cool palm on his forehead, brushing back careless curls, as she sings some Stevie Nicks song to him. The hot tea with honey and lemon is sweet and tangy, and she swears he'll feel so much better if he drinks it all the way down. There's a smile on her face when he wrinkles his nose at the first taste, but then he does as instructed. It warms him from the inside out, and he believes her touch and voice soothes as easily as the tea does.
Memories are strange that way. A cup of hot tea with honey and lemon on the way to class while you're fighting off the tell tale signs you're getting sick can transport you back in time to something that feels real. Something that feels as comforting as chicken soup and a warm blanket. He's not sick. Harry refuses to be sick when he has classes to attend. He can't be sick when his children are likely to be down with the flu or a cold any day now. Kara doesn't need to have to deal with a sick husband on top of that, but for a moment, he almost feels like he's back in the penthouse and he can hear his mother's voice.
It almost makes him wish he was sick.