Can't Be Hidden|| Bill Weasley [2]

08

Things were slow. 

It took around a week for Harley to be able to hold Niall properly, without him crying and without her panicking. She began to enjoy holding her son for the first time since he was born. She found comfort in holding him to the point where sometimes she didn't want to let go. Yet, that caused other problems, she was so fixated on the fact that she could hold him without any negative thoughts or feelings that everything else seemed to go out of the window. 

It was harder for her to understand why she struggled with other basic aspects of motherhood such as feeding or winding or changing a nappy. If she was able to hold him so quickly why were the other parts still hard? 

It probably didn't help that everyone was treating her like a china doll. She appreciated the help but when they would all take over before she could even try it was irritating at first anyway. After a while, she lost interest in trying. She would go to stand up when Niall cried but Bill would be up quicker than her, she would go to get his bottle but Mrs Weasley would get it first, she would go to change his nappy but Sirius would do it before she could even stand up. She felt useless and slowly found herself recoiling. 

After two weeks, all of the progress she had made with holding him went whistle too. She didn't even get the chance to hold him anymore. They were helping, but probably too much. 

Bill, Harley and Niall returned to their home after three weeks of staying at the Burrow, it was certainly more peaceful but Harley's struggles began to be even more noticeable. Bill had believed she was getting better but all of the help their family was providing seemed to shadow it all. 

Bill put Niall to sleep because he wanted to get him down so he and Harley could talk. He entered their living room and saw her curled up on the sofa clutching a cushion tightly, her head buried in it. "Harls? Can we talk?"

She hummed and looked up. Her under-eyes were dark and heavy and her cheeks were puffy. "What about?"

"I think you know, darling."

"I have tried, Will, really I have." She said quietly, her hands shaking as she held onto the cushion

Leaning forward with a soft look in his eye, he gently put his arms around her, tenderly keeping her close. His fingers ran gently across her scalp, passing through the the gold field of her hair which hadn't been brushed that morning, so stopped him short as he reached a knot. In fact, he didn't think her hair had been brushed in a while, she usually threw it up into a knot on the top of her head or a messy ponytail with half of it not even in the hair band. 

"I know, love, I do. But we are alone now, in the house I mean, everyone will visit but they won't be here twenty-four-seven to help. I know it was not your fault that they did a lot to help with Niall meaning you didn't because they sort of didn't let you do anything but now we can actually get you used to it all again. Is that okay?" 

She nodded clutching onto the cushion with one of her slender, cold hands and the other held onto Bill's shirt. "I'm  sorry."

"Shhh, it's perfectly fine. We are going to do anything to make it better, okay?" 

He kept trying to reassure her despite the weight of doubt pressing down on his chest. It was not that simple. He knew that like the back of his hand, and in order for them to progress they have to go backwards. They needed to form an arrow. In order for an arrow to go far it has to be pulled back, he prayed that this was them being pulled back. 

"How about while he's asleep you go and bake something? Baking always makes you feel better." Suggested Bill after a while of a heavy silence settling upon them. 

"I don't think I like baking anymore."

It was a simple click. As if it didn't already hit him just how much it was affecting her but to hear that even baking would not bring her joy really emphasised the severity.  

When Bill didn't respond Harley sat up. Even she was no longer blind to the devastation brought when post-natal depression bust down their door. her head was an endless labyrinth of... well, I don't think even she could deter a coherent explanation for everything that buried it self in the deep, dark tunnels.

Not feeling as though she could function reminded her of times when she was home for the summer. Her parents would drain the life out of her, something she presumed was akin to the treatment of the dementors as they passed by you. She had no motivation to do a thing when in the same house as them, her heart would be as heavy as her limbs, she would sleep for days on end. 

Sleeping became her escape, although they would taunt her in the nightmares she would have for the best part of her slumber her dreams would be full of joy and happiness; spending days with Remus and his friends, cooking with her Aunt Hope, reading the newspaper with her Uncle Lyall. She missed it. She missed being a child to a certain extent, when she was with her extended family she was at peace. She always found peace in Remus. Even in Sirius who is as hectic as anything. 

She needed that grounding peace to come back and this was not it.