The Ghosts and Mr Scrooge Chapter 2: Interlude: My Misery, a harry potter fanfic

"Scrooge fell upon his knees, and clasped his hands before his face.

'Mercy!' he said. 'Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?'

'Man of the worldly mind!' replied the Ghost, 'do you believe in me or not?'

'I do,' said Scrooge. 'I must. But why do spirits walk the earth, and why do they come to me?'

'It is required of every man,' the Ghost returned, 'that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellowmen, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world – oh, woe is me! – and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness!' "

From: A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens,
Stave One, Marley's Ghost

T h e G h o s t s & M r. S c r o o g e

Interlude: My Misery

My scowl is in place for my bi-weekly rounds of the castle halls. I give not even a hopeful twitch of my brow to anyone that I pass, and I am content that way… just as I always have been.

I know He is about to pass me minutes before he actually does. How could I possibly forget that he insists on traversing this particular hallway at the same moment that I do? He must do it to infuriate me, there is no way that he could have not noticed my particular fondness for a deep scowl any time I'm forced to pass him during the day. He feels remorse, but I cannot bring myself to care an iota for him. And it has certainly become a daily ritual to lie to myself.

Daily ritual.

I mustn't let him see how he makes me hurt so; it's not in my nature, and it certainly is no concern of his even if it were so. I cannot help but to almost-glance at him as I walk on, face unmoving as stone. I point my gaze about a foot to the right of where I estimate his face to be, staring, as always, at me as we pass by one another. The crack in my musty heart lengthens another centimetre as we once again pass without a spoken word to the other. I cannot let him see what power he holds over me, it could be my undoing without my permission for it being so. I have resigned myself to my previous goal: to perish at the hands of Voldemort, having been found out a spy, but never betraying one secret of Albus' under the certain torture that would follow. It was my goal before… Harry… and it will be my goal after him. I have no reason to complain, for I have the gift of familiarity in my path forward…. Some aren't even granted that in this world.

Musty heart.

My mood is perceptibly (to me) darker than it had been in months, and I take a moment as I walk to acknowledge that. I do not spare… Harry another thought. It simply hurts too much, behind my masked face that I always keep angry, where it is possible for me to feel any emotion at all that I choose to without fear of retribution or mocking or worse, concern from Albus.

Masked face.

I am startled to realize that someone is keeping pace with me, and I jerk my head to the side immediately to get a better look. Remus is following me again. I mentally growl and picture hitting the man, simultaneously beginning to actively ignore him as I continue my rounds.

"I have no time for mutts," mutters I out of the corner of my mouth, eager to make him flee my bad mood, for my own sake.

"You mustn't remain so withdrawn, Severus," insists the half-wolf walking a pace behind me.

I sneer at his concerned, knowing tone though he doesn't see it from behind me. He has been trying to get at me for the past month, offering trust and friendship that is both unwarranted and unwelcome.

His made-up caring makes me angrier than violence would. I would be more content if Remus just off and hit me in the nose than if he offered his friendship one more time. Could the man possibly get any more annoying? I mutter a couple of profanities to make my point, once again, clear. I doubt he cares though, the insufferable half-wolf.

Made-up caring.

The longer that I walk, the more aggravating his silent companionship becomes. I feel my hands clench into fists and my back become stiffer, the more irritated that I get. When we are passing the colorful windows on the fourth floor, I can stand it no longer, and I finally round angrily at my stalker.

The familiar motion comforts me, my robes moving exactly as they always have. That normalcy calms me just the slightest, but it is enough to stop me just short of wielding the rough verbal sword that I had intended to pierce the quiet man with. Instead, I growl at my hesitation and, momentum and the advantage of surprise lost, I turn back away and stomp on. Absolutely magnificent…. Harry once calmed me, and now I'm looking only for small tokens of comfort in the familiarity of my old life. I am right back where I started from, all of those years ago.

Old life.

"Severus…" repeats the mutt.

The sincerity and friendship offering in his tone make my heart hurt, but only because I have no avenues of obtaining such things, except from a man who offers it readily to anyone. Remus, the man who would help a stranger, of course offers his concern to someone he's known for years. There is no other reason, of that I am sure. I have had only one person care for me, and he no longer does. Him… and maybe Albus.

Such things.

"Leave me be, Lupin," growls I over my shoulder.

I see his shadow and mine getting farther apart in my peripheral vision and am satisfied, my back relaxing and my breathing becoming just a bit easier.

"I'll always be here, Severus… if you need—" says he.

"Yes, yes, alright," snaps I in frustration, simply eager for him to leave me the sodding alone.

I neither hear his footsteps behind me, nor spy his following shadow on the castle wall, and I am glad. I don't want a pity friend.