Disclaimer: I am a broke American college student, not a British billionaire. So ya, just in case it wasn't obvious; I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER! [Insert broken sobbing here]
Summary: (AU) At the Final Battle, both Harry and Voldemort are ruined, barely alive, and at the mercy of Dumbledore and his less than infallible wisdom. When they are brought back from the brink of death and involuntarily given a second chance, what could be the consequences? And is anything truly forgotten? Light/Implied Slash, Character Death, Torture.
AN: Sorry if certain parts sound kinda cheesy, but I absolutely suck at writing fantasy. I'm pretty much a realistic/horror [in more of the Edgar Allan Poe sense of horror] writer. I just LOVE TR(LV)/HP too much to pass up the chance to try it out for fun, so bare with me.
A man abundant in years, with long white hair and beard, walked purposely through the grounds of a magnificent castle, his billowing purple robes dancing around his feet, tarnished by blood, filth, and dirt. The day was traitorously calm and beautiful. Sunlight fell through the branches of the trees, which swayed gently in the warm breeze. The music of the forest blended harmoniously with the muted song, laughter, and celebration that crept from its home within the castle walls. Only the ground; beaten, scorched, and bloodied betrayed what had occurred only hours ago.
Where…Is he safe…Could he continue living…
However, very little of his surrounding were taken notice of while he made his way through the forest. His thoughts swirled in conflict, destroying any peace he could have found. Yet, when the trees finally thinned out and the clearing came into view he only increased the speed of his strides.
...please…
And then finally he was through.
…Not again, Dear Merlin, please…
The clearing stood just as beautiful and peaceful as the rest of the forest, but the sound of the music was pierced by the shallow, pained breathing of the crumpled figures that lied on the ground before him. He tentatively walked closer, forcing his blue eyes to focus entirely on them. They lied, wands long destroyed and forgotten just feet away from them, and blood littered their clothes, bodies, and the clearing. But what dominated the air around them was a thick, heavy, pulsing cloud of grey; a silent testament to the completion of their fate, which would consist of the slow, painful unraveling of their magic, their bodies, and their souls. Their only afterlife…Oblivion… Dark Magic, old and best left forgotten, which it had been…until a sixteen year old Harry Potter began reading his personal collection.
…How…How could he…why didn't I see…why didn't I…
He could see when magic and the certain death coursing through them had failed to be enough for their hatred, when they had resorted to the few desperate physical means left to them; clawing, biting, punching, kicking, and strangling each other as the marks that littered their skin underneath the blood could attest. Now they rested in each other's arms, completely spent on every level, both pairs of eyes staring into the other as they waited for the death they could fell consuming them. It was only when he stopped a foot away from them that their eyes left each others, and simultaneously met his.
A red pair met his, clouded by hatred and insanity.
A green pair met his, showing only an aching emptiness and acceptance.
…Say…SAY SOMETHING…say… you forgive me…please…
Only his blue eyes were torn and damp, his arm raised, wand ready to bring about the long awaited end if only to spare them the pain that would come, the words resting half formed in his mouth.
Why didn't I…why wouldn't you…
Both pairs only stared back unblinkingly from his.
…NOT AGAIN! …WHY-
He stared back.
Please…please, not again…I can't do this a second time…please…
In his mind he knew they had been ruined before they had even stepped foot on the battlefield. Voldemort's forces had scattered, his only guarantees for immortality were destroyed, and his once brilliant mind mangled beyond recognition. Harry, though sane for the most part, had left what little makeshift family he had found in the magical community and Hogwarts when he turned sixteen to fight the war on his own terms. He had also developed a rather disturbing…past time… when he was not occupied with Tom, which involved the execution of the more violent Dark fanatics and their families. He also had a taste for muggles who had a bad history with people of magical heritage, which included his own muggle relatives …my fault…all my fault…and some of the more violent Aurors… Each was a danger to Wizarding kind, if not humanity itself. The decision should have been a simple one.
Please…tell me…tell me why…please…
Yet his wand stayed in the air, shaking, his eyes on theirs.
"Why didn't you let me help you?!"
Startled by the voice, the almost hysterical voice that he had not recognized as his own, he kept staring, though the eyes offered him no answers, no condolences or regrets. Just a silent, unshakable hate that seemed to brighten and harden at his words.
"Y-ou…you've…done enough …A…Al-bus…" Voldemort rasped with a small, mocking laugh that became a muffled groan.
Stunned, Albus watched the agony and hate within their eyes…lost. He could remember how red eyes had been hazel ones, absorbed with curiosity and wonder as their intelligence conquered the world before them. And green eyes had been full of joy, laughter, and love that embraced all that accepted them with a reckless abandon. Wasn't that worth anything?! How…how … It was the world…the cruelty of the world that had taken this from them, a world where every hand had played a part in their destruction; stranger, enemy, peer, authority, friend…forgive me, please forgive me…even his own had brought them to their knees time and time again, robbing them of any chance of fully knowing or experiencing anything without a constant threat to their very survival hanging over their heads…Yes… Yes, poor circumstances had robbed them of the chance to build the skills necessary to properly develop themselves…And what could possibly undo this unfortunate mess that circumstance had wrought..?
An almost unearthly shot of realization pierced him to his very core. With a certain resolve his wand dropped. Then his eyes softened and twinkled through the tears, and a small hopeful smile came upon his face. Fluidly his wand rose once again and fell in a delicate motion, a string of words carefully, lovingly, flowing from his mouth.
The eyes only widened in recognition, horror, and anger.
Edward frowned.
He had been transferred to a new school after his parents had decided to relocate for better work. Standing there at the gate before the first bell, he had watched in disgust as his peers rushed about like little fools. He had charmed his former teachers and seized what control could be had in his situation at his last school; the idea of starting from scratch at a new school only aggravated him. Still, knowing resistance would be futile at this point, he forced himself through the gate and into the noisy playground. Strengthening his inner-self, he surveyed his surrounding to judge his future…peers. Some girls were blabbering as they pushed each other on the swings. A few boys were doing their best to get themselves covered in as much filth as possible as they chased a ball, and a few other children were playing tag. Edward cringed; he would have to let the dirty fools touch him…Still, if he wanted to survive, no to rule… He plastered the most genuine smile he could muster and made his way to the children playing tag, as they appeared to be the least annoying.
That's when the sound of it reached his eyes. The sound of thousands and thousands of cries, screams, laughs, songs, whispers, and other noises that blended into a meaningless static that was almost deafening to the ears if one slipped too far into its intensity. At first it simply confused him. Had his shields faded earlier than he had planned? Or was his sense far more sensitive than normal? He paused in his steps, and reached into himself, but everything was normal.
Frowning, Edward expanded his senses, searching for the source. Finally, he found it...Strange…He had seen others who had It, but never had it sounded just like…
Eyes widening in recognition, Edward rushed forward. Oblivious to all around him, he ran past the swings, skirted through the boys playing ball, to a small tree that stood on the outskirts of the playground, the grass around it littered with dandelions…and a tiny sleeping boy.
Edward paused awkwardly in his steps, unsure of himself for the first time he could recall as he hovered over this seemly harmless creature. Dark hair littered with grass framed a pale face that was thin despite the fullness of childhood that marked the other children's faces. A small bruise rested on his right check. Edward felt…felt a certain strangeness that seemed to draw him closer, which only made his paranoia that much more persistent. But finally the restlessness of curiosity overcame rationale, forcing his feet hesitantly through the grass. Carefully, so as not to wake him, he lowered himself onto the grass only inches from the boy. A ridiculous grinning frog looked back at him from the boy's navy blue shirt, which rose steadily. For a reason he could not entirely explain he reached out…
Edward woke abruptly in his bed. Sighing, he pulled his long bangs from his hazel eyes. Beside him his Jonathan quietly studied him with emerald eyes that peeked over the neglected literature text that rested in his hands which he was pretending to read. Edward sighed in lazy contentment, letting his eyes rest on his companion with reluctant affection. Emerald eyes brightened, and Edward's lips moved into a small smile on their own accord, making him feel even more…odd. Still, he could not think of a more pleasant way to begin his morning.
He had never meant to care for anyone, had never attempted to make those bonds to humanity that his peers had strived for as long as he could remember. Even as a small child all he had wanted was…that feeling. That sort of electrifying static beneath his very skin, sometimes even beneath other people's skin. But it was only Jonathan's static that sang and danced like his. It was this that had first attracted his attention to Jonathan before he even understood how similar their circumstances were. Before he came to realize that on some basic level that some could never comprehend that Jonathan was his, was him.
As absurd as that sounded part of him had known it to be true since they met that sunny day on the playground at the age of seven.
"Well, are you going to say good morning or just lie there staring?" asked Jonathan, his eyes still dancing. Edward only widened his smile into a satisfied smirk. "Ugh, you're so lazy in the morning." whined Jonathan, dropping all pretense of reading by carelessly throwing the book on to the floor.
"Hmm…I find that ironic from someone who woke me up so I could help him finish his essay." Replied Edward, as he untangled the sheets around his legs.
"Well, you wake me up at all the time to make you breakfast."
"True, but I spend extra time tutoring you at night before bed, "countered Edward as he got up from the bed, "so I deserve a well cooked breakfast AND a full night's sleep. Mentioning breakfast…What's-"
"Eggs' nests on sourdough, seasoned breakfast potatoes, grapefruit, and the kettle should be going off soon." Interrupted Jonathan as he busied himself with organizing the bed sheets, "My essay that yo-"
"In your binder, second pocket, behind your math which you only did decent on." answered Edward with his usual smirk." Next time start your essay the weekend before its due, not the night before."
"Yes, sir." said Jonathan with a mock salute as he retrieved his book from the floor to place on the nightstand beside him."I'll go finish the tea and set the table. Try to get dressed and down to the kitchen in ten minutes, otherwise your meal will get cold."
"Of course." Edward sighed to Jonathan as he turned to search through his closet. Without looking back Edward listened to the sound of Jonathan's feet as they crossed their room's threshold and the soft thud of the door closing behind him. Edward grabbed a plain black tee shirt and a faded pair of jeans. Slipping both on quickly, he turned and surveyed his appearance which he deemed satisfactory. Edward then straightened his remaining shirts and closed the wardrobe. His eyes danced across the room, taking in the neatly made bed next to his own, the flourishing plants, the tasteful green curtains, and his oak desk tenderly polished with his writing tools carefully put into place.
It still bothered him even after eight years of living together that Jonathan took such time and detail on cleaning the house like a common maid when he should have been lounging like a prince in the comfort he had done so much to offer him. Still, he loved taking in those thoughtful little details (the warm color schemes, the little flourishes in decor of plants, rocks, and flower arrangements).
Stretching, Edward made his way out of the room and began to make his way to the kitchen. As he made his way down the hallway to the stairs he came across the all too familiar picture of his…family. He gave the picture the customary sneer he gave it every time he passed it as he descended the stairs.
From the sitting room he could hear the clinking of plates and silverware that he heard every morning. Smiling he pushed open the wooden doors.
Green eyes met his once again with a smile, as hands finished arranging the silverware on the table. Edward paused to take them in, before making his way to the table and seating himself. In front of him sat the meal, tastefully arranged on the white china, and his morning cup of tea, which he removed from its saucer to gingerly sip at. Humming in contentment as the warm fluid raced down his throat, he glanced up to see Jonathan slowly nodding his head as he wrote on a piece of paper, occasionally pausing to take a bit of his meal or a gulp of tea as he steadily worked. Curiosity overcame Edward, but the self control he prized kept him in his seat and silent as he continued his meal. Finally, a small grin of satisfaction came across Jonathan's face. With practiced ease Edward slid his arm down the table and snatched the notebook from Jonathan's hands.
"Hey!"
"Finish your meal." Edward answered, as his eyes took in the carefully crafted work before him, his mind playing the sonata in his head as he read it. Finishing, he placed it on the table before him and looked up to see anxious eyes watching him. He smirked. Then he retrieved his fork and continued eating silently as he counted in his head. 5…4…3…2...1…
"Well?"
"Hmm?"
"What did you think?"
"That we're going to be late if you don't finish in another four minutes." Edward answered as put his silverware down to finish his tea.
"Shit!" exclaimed Jonathan looking to the clock, "I didn't realize it was seven already, I need to-"
"Forget the dishes, Margret will be here to take care of the house in another hour. Just finish your meal. I'll go get the car." Edward interrupted, putting his empty glass back on the saucer. "Meet me at the curb in six minutes."
Jonathan simply nodded as he stuffed his food into his mouth, pausing only for a gulp of tea. Edward smiled lightly and rose from his seat. Walking briskly out of the kitchen he quickly, but with an appropriate amount of composure, made it to the front door where his bag and coat were waiting. Sliding both on quickly, Edward proceeded out of the house, his tennis shoes meeting the cement in an even rhythm until he found himself by the comfortable green sedan that had been theirs for the last three years. His hand quickly retrieved the key from his bottom, left hand coat pocket and brought it to the door. He opened the door and slid into the front seat.
And felt the coldness of metal against his neck.
He stiffened.
"Turn on the car, kid, and close the door. Just drive where I tell you. Otherwise I'm going to have to put one in you right here and now." A man's voice ordered. Edward ignored the orders, putting his hands into the air in surrender he glanced into the rearview mirror out of the corner of his eye, but the man's face was covered in a thin black cloth.
"I have no desire to do as you say." Edward replied calmly, eyes chancing a glance to the front door.
"Why you little bastard," snarled the masked man, pushing the gun further into Edward's neck. "Put that fucking key in that dam-"
The man slumped forward. His body still. Edward took a breath of relief as he got out of the car and closed the door. With a quick push of a button the car was locked and Edward was jogging to the house. Tearing open the front door he found Jonathan on the floor in front of the window, sobbing. Edward bent down, taking the smaller boy into his arms.
"Jonathan…Jonathan, it's all right. Shh…shhh…it's alright…shh…Jonathan…" Edward whispered, rubbing small circles into Jonathan's back. For awhile they sat there, until Jonathan's cries became the occasional muffled sob. Then they rose from the floor, Edward still clutching Jonathan's body to his, guiding and supporting him. Jonathan removed his face from the nest it had made in the front of Edward's shirt, emerald eyes locking onto hazel.
"Edward…" Jonathan whispered. " Did it…Did it look like he…suffered?"
"No, not at all." Edward reassured him firmly. "In fact it was so quick it even took me a few seconds to realize what had happened."
Jonathan nodded silently, removing his arms from Edward's body and taking a small step back. "I…I need to wash my face before we leave."
"And I need to change my shirt." Edward countered with a small smirk. Jonathan's lips quirked slightly at the edges in reply as he turned to make his way upstairs. Before he could make it up very far Edward's hand grabbed his, stopping him.
"Jonathan, I…I'm…sorry. For putting you through all of this." Edward said quietly. "I swear I'll do everything in my power to make it so you never have to do something like this again. Just help me a little longer. Soon we'll make our move and I'll be strong enough to protect both of us again."
"No matter how much it hurts I couldn't stop helping you, Edward." Jonathan replied, squeezing Edward's hand gently. "I just wish you would be more honest about how we got into this mess."
"I will tell you, Jonathan, just…not now. " Edward whispered earnestly.
Jonathan sighed in frustration, but gave Edward's hand a final squeeze before releasing it to make his way up the stairs. Edward watched him in silence until he disappeared from view as he slipped into their bedroom. With ease, Edward pulled a small cell from his coat pocket. Fingers flipped the tiny cell open and danced across the buttons. Bringing the device to his ear he waited patiently until a voice answered on the other end.
"Hello, Margret." Edward answered quietly. "I apologize for bothering you, but I'm afraid we can't have you stop by today…I know, I'm sorry…No, nothing major. Jonathan seems to have misplaced the spare key and we just don't have the time to make a new spare until Wednesday. Yes…Yes, Friday is wonderful. Thanks for being so understanding… Of course… We'll see you Friday."
Edward removed the small cell from his ear, closing it with an audible click before placing it back into his pocket. Straightening his shirt he made his way out of the house, back to the car, mind running off plausible hiding places for the body until he had the time to dispose of it properly. Sighing at the inconvenience of the whole thing…he was going to be late for his calculus review…he couldn't help but think of Jonathan's words with a small scowl.
"Mess" was definitely an understatement…
