Disclaimer: Harry Potter or anything to do with Harry Potter is not mine.
A/N: I actually have no idea where this story came from. Well, I kind of do. I got the idea from a dream I had. And it's your guess as to who the other character is. It was written as one character, but morphed, so I'm not quite sure who it is. You choose.
This story takes place after the war. Harry has defeated Voldemort and has just woken up in the hospital wing, to discover something very startling. From another characters point of view. Who? Your guess.
He sits, frozen, framed by the window, the morning light streaming through the panes of glass, the white painted wood forming a cris-cross of shadows across his bare chest and face. The dust motes seem to freeze in the air in front of him, the sunlight turning them to flecks of gold, creating a soft aura of glow around him. Staring straight ahead, the moment is broken as he closes his eyes, sending two crystalline trails down his face, falling from his cheeks onto his hands, twined in his sheets, his knuckles white.
"What is it?"
There is no response. Worried, I grab him by the shoulders, turning him to face me.
"What is it?"
His eyes open slowly at my touch, turning his face slowly upwards in my direction. Caught sideways in the light, it creates a sharp contrast on his face, shadowing one half of it, lighting the other.
His hand reaches towards me, cautiously, as one would approach some skittish creature, not wanting to frighten it, yet with the desperation of a sailor drowning at sea, reaching towards the stars in the reddened sky as his ship burns and sinks, the flames reflected in the water.
Emotions flicker across his face one after another, until, his fingers touch my cheek, carefully tracing the edge of my face. Fear triumphs over the other emotions.
Only, it does not reach his eyes.
Those emerald eyes, those trademark eyes, once burning with intensity are now blank and unseeing, betraying the emotion on his face.
His head droops in complete and humiliating defeat. Unwittingly, he leans against my chest, subconsciously seeking warmth and comfort, although he is too proud to ask for such things.
Hoarsely, he speaks. His voice is cracked, not more than a strained whisper, barely holding back the tears that threaten to follow the two before them.
"I can't see you..."
A simple sentence is all it is, but it breaks something inside of him. It kills him in some way, trapping him like a falcon with clipped wings, now destined to stay behind bars for life.
Instinctively, I pull him against my chest, wrapping him in my arms, holding him close. He shudders with restrained tears, fingers clutched tightly in the front of my robes, as if trying to hold onto a quickly crumbling world.
Is this your punishment? Is this your destiny? To live forever in darkness?
Ironic. That in destroying the dark, one such as you should now be forced to suffer in darkness forever.