The snow fell upon his exposed skin as his lifeless body laid upon the cool ground. The coldness seeped through the skin that did not shiver at the coolness. The whiteness wrapped him in a blanket; however, the cool beat of life still could be heard faintly to those who would listen. On the other hand, no one cared that he laid there upon the freezing snow. Those who did had left him to die at their Dark Lords' hands who now stood above the teen.
The Dark Lord was not the snake that he had let them to believe. The coolness of thin fingers touched the lifeless, sleeping, body before him. His knees were wet from the snow as he kneeled to get closer to the body. His reddish brown eyes were lifeless of any emotion, his thoughts cold and unfeeling, and he did not know how he felt when he felt the body.
The stillness in the air, unbroken even by the small pops of his followers arriving. The sudden need to hide the body, the teen, from those who blindly followed him through the first and last war. He knew that this feeling was uncalled for, but he could not bear the thought of the body being seen by others. The smooth skin was pale and without color as if the snow had taken that from him. Dark, black colored eyelashes were softly kissing pale cheeks, as if those eyes would never open once again. He knew with the shallow breaths that could be seen, due to the coolness of the air, he was breathing lightly, holding onto life.
Unknowing, the Dark Lord hid the body before addressing his followers. His words smooth and dark, but charming to those who are willing to listen. Words of victory, a smooth victory over the savior of the wizardry world. However, as the words rung true, he felt no glee over the win, just anger.
Anger that rose with each word that passed his lips, anger that turned into a boiling rage due to the easy win that this boy, teenager, lost to him. Their game done, chasing of the other, being the bad guy was over. Done. He had lost his reason to fight.
Unknowing to even the dark lord, the teen still held onto dare life. His breathing shallow, but sure. Determine to see the once ever shadowing of the world that he loath burn to the ground. It was not the dark lord who defeated him, nor the followers that followed blindly at an empty, but full promises of a new. However, he wanted to blame it on the lord, but could not for he was not the one to wrong him. To hurt him. To laugh at him, scold him for the love and pity for he felt for the Dark Lord. He had done no wrong, but to them he had. Love was his strongest weapon against the Dark Lord, but how can he use it if he had never truly loved the Dark Lord. His breathing may be shallow, but the growing pain from the cold were like needles pinching his skin in a restless attempt to draw his blood or worst, his soul. He knew not who had touched him, stood above him, kneeled by him, but for some reason he felt comfort in the action.
He could hear the Dark Lord now. The smooth charming voice promising a new world, empty promise he whispered in his mind, like the wind as if knowing the other would hear him. At the sudden intake of breath from the still breathing creature above him, told the other that he was heard even though faintly to the other. He was heard.
The Dark Lord stuttered in his speech for a moment as if hearing something that was not there. He rolled his next words without a second thought off of his tongue as if he had never paused. However, with each word, he probed the mind that belonged to the teenager that laid before him, unseen from the others. Without any results, the Dark Lord did not think much on it, until he halted as clear as day, a voice whispered in his mind. Eyes widen in shock and disbelief, the Dark Lord swiftly turned around in the snow, baring the emotion on his face freely as the spell he had used was evaporated before him to reveal a teen that was still pale. He, and his followers, felt the power that was coming off the boy in waves, strong and seductive to their taste buds and addictive. They all knew that the boy was not dead, but very still alive.
How I wish to touch you. The voice of the teenage male was deep and seductive as if trying to seduce the Dark Lord or his followers. The power rung in the air, making the snowflakes to freeze in their mid-fall to the ground. The group of followers held their breath as their lord fell to his knees and barely touched the teen. Thin and slender fingers reached out; however, he held his breath as his fingers could not reach the boy as if afraid of the boy. No. Afraid for the boy for if he touched him, would the boy sudden need to live, leave him or worst would the body loose the will to live on.
Go on. The voice was soft and right next to his ear. The sudden permission to touch was different, he had always had to force his touch on the boy. Look. The commend was new, even to the Dark Lord. His followers must have heard the commend for they started to wonder their eyes in every direction to find that voice. For they would never find for it is not physical that the boy was speaking. They all looked upon the boy laying on the snow covered ground in wonder.
"Why?" The Dark Lord questioned as his fingers touched the boy's skin. He did not get an answer by voice, but from visuals. The sudden on slaughter of pain and memories that the boy before him was shared shook his very frame for he had landed on his hind side with a small grunt. The memories flow in his mind like murky water, un-pieced together.
Rage.
Pain.
The words slipped from non-moving lips, the voice soft and pained. The sudden need to pull the boy closer was noticed among the followers. The Dark Lord pulled the boy away from the wet snow that gathered around his body, blue lips parted as a shallow breath was exhaled from the dry and tighten throat of the teen.
Remorse.
Regret.
The promise to bring him closer so the boy could feel the heat that his body was producing. He tried to warm the cold and lifeless body of the teen, but to try is to forgive. The boy could not understand why the Dark Lord was holding him. He could not understand the sudden need to cry or the need for the other to forgive him was not something he could possible understand.
The Dark Lord cradled the boy in his arms, he had once held him like this unknowing what it meant before, and still don't. It felt right. The boy's shallow breathing even out, the slowly lifting of his chest touched the Dark Lords in light feather like touches.
The teen seemed to even relax even more, becoming more lifeless. The dark followers could not understand why their lord held the boy in his arms. They held their breaths as they watched as pale colored lids fluttered against just as pale cheeks. They were shocked when those eyes opened.
Pale. Dark.
The boy could not see. Those once bright jewels were now a faded green, like life was taken from them. It reminded them of a lifeless doll. Those eyes were now gazing, staring into the reddish brown eyes that belonged to their Lord.
"Why?" The Dark Lord questioned softly, his eyes soft as he too stared into those doll like eyes. The sudden understanding what the others had done was something akin to shock and anger. Those emotions were mixed; he did not understand why he felt this way for his enemy.
It is not just your emotions. The boy's voice was soft and light as if understanding. The Dark Lord looked upon the boy in thought as if not understand. The pain and anger was not his own? Then why.
Just like how I am connected to you.
"Harry?" A voice from the group behind them sounded loud and the others shared looks as they tried to figure out who had spoken. A tall male, dark raven black hair, walked away from the group; however, he did not step closer to the boy. Lifeless eyes, blinked, his gazed shifted over the Dark Lord's shoulder, and those eyes meet pitch black eyes.
Shock.
"Why can't I hear your voice?" The question was out there, for they all could hear the boy talk, but had the boy speak by parting his lips? They have not noticed for they all been shock when their lord held the boy in his arms. The snow shifted slightly as if reacting to the boy's magic. The sudden rage that filled the clearing they were standing in was heavy and they could not breath.
You know. The boy answered without his pale blue lips parting. They stared for they had thought that the boy had spoken, but the boy did not.
"Why can't you?" The dark haired male asked again for he wanted to hear it from the boy. For he knew what he had brew, but he had hoped it was not for the boy before him. For he would forever asking for forgiveness.
A potion you had brewed. A potion that took away my voice. A potion that the headmaster asked you to brew. You did this to me!
The Dark Lord looked between the two. He had at some point let the boy leave his arms and said boy was standing bare foot in the snow with a glowing glare towards the dark haired male. The magic in the air was heavy with rage.
The tall dark haired male, kneeled before the teen, head low to the ground as if asking for forgiveness. The boy did not look ready to, but the air changed, the snowflakes started to fall once again. The older male did not raise even when he saw a pair of bare feet standing before him. When light feather like fingers reached out to touch him, he then looked up.
However, for the thought of not knowing for who, I will forgive.
"Thank you."
The teen then turned to face the Dark Lord. Their eyes stayed on one another.
For the pain and hurt, I do not forgive. However, for the power the Dark Lord knows not, I will try to love the monster and man that stands before me. I will forgive the man, not the monster. For I can only love the man who made promises of a better future.