Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or make money from their use.
A/N: So you know what you're getting into: Though the story starts with a small bit of angst we all know that happiness can be found even in the darkest of times. This will not be an angsty dark story but one of friendship and romance! This is my first HP fic so forgive me for any mistakes and do correct me if I am wrong.
As for romantic pairings: I won't give that away just yet but I will say that if you are not a fan of slash romance, this may not be the story for you and you may want to stop reading now.
For the rest: Thank you for your time and enjoy!
Just One Drop
Prologue:
It was finally over. Voldemort was nothing more than a bad memory as the smoke and dust settled around the battlefield formerly known as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Scattered across the charred lawn and huddled in the rooms of the castle that were saved from being nothing more than a pile of rubble; people were celebrating and clinging to their loved ones. There were a few people who stood in silence with grim expressions on their faces and others, who were curled up in corners mourning their losses, but overall it was as if a weight had been lifted and in its place was a feeling of lightness and joy. Finally everyone could breathe and rest a little easier.
Everyone except Harry Potter.
Where others were reveling in their new-found happiness, the dark shadows of pain and sorrow still gripped his heart with long claw-like fingers, squeezing so hard that he gasped for breath and stinging tears pricked at his eyes like needles. He felt as though he had a bludger stuck in his throat as he tried to swallow his emotions and pretend to feel a little less hallow. This was supposed to be a happy occasion, wasn't it? Isn't this exactly what he had been waiting for? Now that it was all over, why did he feel so miserable?
As the months passed, he grew more distressed. Why wouldn't this feeling leave him? After everything he had done, why couldn't he have a small taste of happiness? He would put on the happy friendly face that his friends expected to see, he would attend all the interviews and speak at events and say all the right things, but it felt wrong. He felt like a stranger in his own skin.
After all the funerals and life had begun to return to "normal", they began the rebuilding of Hogwarts. Of course Harry had offered to assist in the repairs of what he considered the only real home he had ever had. The Headmistress was kind enough to let him stay in the castle while the repairs were being made, and at the end of the day, exhausted from clearing away the rubble and pretending that everything was alright, he retired to Snape's old rooms.
The room was dark and the air was damp and stale, but he felt an odd sense of peace here that he hadn't felt outside of this room. He had taken it upon himself to take care of the deceased professor's possessions and did so with great care, sorting through each item and packed them safely in large trunks and small wooden boxes. He had even opened a new vault at Gringotts to store them in until he figured out what to do with them.
Ron had argued with Harry on why he would want to stay in the greasy bat's rooms and touch his slimy things, suggesting they just burn everything and be done with it. It was at that moment that Harry had wondered why they had ever been friends and he immediately felt guilty for thinking it. He shook his head to dispel the memories of that moment as he resumed going through Snape's things.
He was so distracted by his conflicted thoughts that he almost didn't see the glossy wooden box hidden under Snape's bed. The cold stones of the dungeon floor seemed to leech all the warmth out of him and he shivered as he stretched across the floor, half under the bed, reaching for the box. He snatched it up and took it into the living room, flopping into the warn leather chair in front of the fireplace.
The dark, lacquered box was decorated with glittering gold designs that moved as though they were alive and he couldn't help but try to trace them with his fingertips as they danced across the wood. He didn't know how long he sat there with the box in his lap, just staring at it. He had the strangest feeling that it was listening to his thoughts and peering into his soul as though it were looking for something. Just as a shudder ran through his body, the lid popped open with a tiny click.
Cautiously and curiously, he lifted the lid and peered inside. There, lying innocently in a bed of black velvet, was a crystalline potions vial. It gave off a soft glow and as Harry carefully lifted it from its resting place he marveled at the thick, shimmering, pale gold and pearl white liquid that swirled inside its glass receptacle. He had never seen a potion like this before and inspected it a moment longer before looking into the box for some sort of clue as to what it was.
As if conjured by his thoughts, golden letters began to appear on the underside of the lid of the box and he read them very carefully.
One drop: To see life differently.
Two drops: To make it reality.
Three drops: To end your misery.
As the words glowed before him he pondered on what it meant by "see life differently" and nearly dropped the vial when a voice whispered in his mind. The voice was quiet and he could only just barely make out the words. "You could know true happiness." It said. "What would your life have been like if you had done even one thing differently? All it takes is one drop to find out…"
He sat there for hours, thinking. The fire had long since died out and the cold was seeping into his stiff limbs, but he hadn't noticed. Should he do it? Just one drop. He knew deep down that this wasn't the life he was meant to have, that somewhere along the line he had made the wrong choices. Just one drop. There was such a strong sense of wrongness here. It would only take one drop. Just to know, just to see. Maybe…
He finally moved, looking down at the glowing vial in his hand. It gave off the only light in the room and as he looked at it he knew. He knew it wouldn't hurt him, that it only wanted to help. Without another thought, he lifted the dropper out of the vial and held it over his open mouth. As a single drop of glowing golden liquid hit his tongue, his vision went dark and he felt a sudden, traitorous moment of doubt before he was dragged off to a different time and place.
To where it all began.