It Only Takes a Second

- XXI -

Harry thrashed, trying desperately to escape his uncles grip, but the man was buried deep inside of him from behind.

"If you shoot, we both go down," Vernon taunted, tightening his grasp around his nephew's shoulder. Harry bit his lip and glanced at his feet that were balanced on the edge of the building.

Harry could feel the bones cracking beneath his uncle's vice-like grip, but that was the least of his concern at the moment.

"Vernon, let Harry go, and we'll spare you," an Agent that Harry didn't know, called. But Vernon just laughed, and gave another painful thrust, making Harry whimper in pain.

"Whatever you want Vernon, it's yours!" Tony called, and Harry could hear the fear and pain in his voice.

"I don't want your ruddy money," Vernon laughed, pounding into Harry again.

Harry let out a cry, and Vernon twisted his broken arm more, making him see stars. "Shut up, boy!"

"Let him go, Dursley!" An Agent yelled, raising his gun.

Vernon saw the gun and spun around, losing his balance.

"No!" Harry heard Tony scream as they went toppling off of the roof of the building.

And then he was falling, and falling, just waiting to hit the ground...

Harry's eyes flew open as he felt something down his throat. Nothing good usually came of that.

Tony, who was napping in the chair beside Harry's bed, was awoken by the rapid increase in the heart-rate monitors. Harry suddenly bolted upright, thrashing wildly, nostrils flaring and sweat dripping from his brow, looking deathly pale, taking on an almost blue-ish tint.

"Harry!" Tony cried, desperate to get settle his son down before he hurt himself. But Harry had already grabbed the tube that was down his throat and tugging at it.

"Harry, stop! It's okay, it was just a dream! Calm down, you're going to hurt yourself!" Tony hushed, grabbing Harry's hands and wrestling them from the tube that he was gagging on and trying to pull out.

A nurse ran into the room as the machines surrounding the teenager began sounding.

"He's bucking the ventilator!" She called, pressing a call button on the wall. More nurses flooded the room and Tony was pushed to the side.

"Mr. Stark, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," a nurse dressed in pale green scrubs said, placing a soft hand on Tony's arm.

"We need to bag him," declared another nurse, watching the monitors. He began disconnecting the ventilator and another person removed the tubing from the teenager's throat, immediately replacing it with a mask attached to a bag. Rhythmically, the nurse began squeezing it to deliver oxygen to Harry's lungs.

"What's wrong with him?" Tony asked, fighting the urge to push past all of the nurses and get to his son. It was hard enough seeing Harry connected to that ventilator, but watching someone pump oxygen into his kid's lungs manually? It seemed too much.

"We're trying to figure that out now, Mr. Stark, but I need you to wait outside while we do," the nurse replied, voice tight but sympathetic. Despite it being the last thing he wanted to do, Tony nodded and slipped outside.

Mind racing a million miles a minute, Tony stumbled over to a plastic chair in the waiting room and collapsed into it. Burying his head in his hands.

Things weren't supposed to be like this. Harry was supposed to be getting better, not getting worse.

He didn't know how long he sat there- seconds? Minutes? Hours?- before he heard the sharp clicking of heels on tile floor. At the familiar sound, Tony raised his head.