7. Choices to be Made

The long days and endless nights of waiting and worrying had stretched into two weeks and the loss of Harry was taking a toll upon those who loved him.

Ron and Hermione had broken up.

"How could you have let him leave? What were you thinking?" Hermione had yelled upon hearing the news of Harry's disappearance. The words were out of her mouth before she knew it and Ron's shattered expression told her she'd just cut him to his core.

She quickly tried to back pedal, but it was too late — the damage had already been done.

The plan of living at Dumbledore's cottage in Cambridge had been abandoned; Ron had moved back to the Burrow and Hermione was with her parents.

Thoughts of Auror School and University were too much to even think about right now. They were both devastated and still in shock, barely able to put one foot in front of the other.

Remus had done what he always did when things got rough — he kept moving.

At first he had helped with the search for the outpost near Hogsmeade, but no doubt the structure was under a Fidelius charm and would never be seen without instructions from the Secret Keeper. But Hogsmeade was too close to Hogwarts — and Hogwarts held too many memories: his argument with Harry, his times with Sirius …

Remus had to get away from the castle and the memories; he was now somewhere far off in the northern country of Scotland, having joined the team that was searching for the Fastness. Its location still remained a mystery and as for Harry — hope was running out that he was even still alive.

~SH~

Severus stood in the center of the covered wooden bridge that led to the secluded east entrance to the castle.

The sun was setting on this warm summer's eve, but Severus felt cold and numb.

He held his left arm close to his side, more out of habit than anything else.

It had been bound and wrapped tightly to his side for days following the attack.

The one fortuitous outcome was that the Dark Mark was gone — as if it had burned itself out.

Madame Pomfrey did what she could to repair the damage to his arm and the Healers from St Mungo's had made even more progress.

Severus would have the use of his arm, hand, and fingers, but there would always be scars.

He didn't care about the scars; he didn't care about anything anymore.

Despite all of Albus' positive thoughts and words of encouragement, Severus knew what the Dark Lord was capable of — he'd seen it first hand.

It had been two weeks. No one could survive that long in captivity to the Dark Lord. By now Harry most certainly was dead, but for some reason Severus' heart wouldn't accept it.

He stared blankly at the rolling hills before him, lifted his hand and pressed it gently over his heart. He reached out, trying to sense whether or not he could feel if Harry was still alive.

But all he felt was hollow emptiness.

Severus had retreated to his chambers after Poppy released him from the infirmary and there he had stayed in the lower reaches of the castle, alone for days.

He had waited as the Order and Aurors searched the forest around Hogsmeade, hoping beyond hope that they would find the outpost.

But time ticked by and no news was heard.

Still weak from his ordeal, Albus had suggested that Severus go to his villa to recuperate.

But he couldn't go there. Not now. Not without Harry. After all the plans they had made — he couldn't go to that beautiful place without him.

As devastated as Severus was, he was also angry at himself and at Harry.

Why had he let that young sorcerer into his life and into his heart?

This is all Harry's fault, Severus thought as he grasped for straws. I was fine without him.

If only he'd kept his heart hardened and closed off then he wouldn't be feeling what he was feeling now — a crushing emptiness that was almost more than he could bear.

Added to this emptiness was the guilt that racked him for having left Harry in that place.

Severus turned and paced slowly back toward the castle.

You coward; how could you have done that? he berated himself — again. Even though to this day he couldn't think of how he would have gotten Harry out of that place alive, he should have at least tried.

Why did I let this happen? Severus thought listlessly as he pulled open the heavy wooden door. Let myself become so vulnerable

Being acerbic and cynical was much easier than all this hurt and anguish. If he had the chance to do it over again, would he make the same choices? Would he allow that green eyed enchanter to wear down his resolve and worm his way into his heart?

Severus didn't know what to think anymore. He leaned against the wall as he slowly descended the spiral steps, feeling utterly defeated. All this waiting and thinking was eating away at him. But what else could he do?

Harry had awoken Severus' heart, so how could he go on now without him?

~SH~

Harry could now recognize each one of his little elves.

His favorites were Widgen, Nianna, and Vena.

He used to like Ardana because of what she did with his cock. But now he knew that she would always leave him wanting.

Nianna and Vena were his lifeline because they brought the mask to him and inside the mask was that sweet vapor which made it possible for him to survive this terrible place. Without it, Harry knew that he would die.

Widgen was like a mother to him. She was always there when he needed her, at least when he was in his safe places.

He would open his eyes and see her sitting near him, stroking his hair. No one had ever done that for him and he found it comforting.

Another thing he loved about Widgen was her songs. He loved listening to her voice and her strange sounding words.

He felt terribly vulnerable in this strange place but he felt more secure when Widgen was with him.

The tunnel was the place that scared him most. Whenever Harry was brought down that long tunnel, it became harder and harder for him to hold onto his wonderfully fragrant friend.

It was so difficult these days for Harry to make sense of anything. Sometimes he was content and everything felt perfect. But when he was with Voldemort, everything went from one extreme to the other.

Harry would have the most amazing orgasms and he was beginning to crave them more and more. He loved feeling the heat and the frantic movements, the feeling of weightlessness when Voldemort put him in those incredible positions. But then there would be times of terrible pain and sometimes his mouth would be full of something and he felt like he couldn't even breathe.

His seesaw of emotions made him feel dizzy and fragile. One second he'd feel scared and vulnerable, then in a heartbeat a bit of his fragrant friend would rush over him and make him feel so good about whatever was happening to him. Suddenly he'd feel like he could do anything! He loved it when the rushes happened, but he was also growing more and more desperate for them and afraid they would never return.

~SH~

It had been another unbearable night.

Harry could remember pain and not being able to breathe. Then later on, as he was drifting up from the darkness, he could hear familiar lilting tones.

He couldn't manage to open his eyes just yet, but the song made him feel safe and loved. He wished he could just stay wherever he was right now — somewhere between here and there with the little elf and her songs and the darkness.

Widgen was kneeling beside Harry's head, stroking his hair and singing a lullaby to him. It was one that her Mother used to sing to her when she was very young.

The little elf was growing more and more concerned for her Neth Ernil, he was becoming so thin and weak.

Her Master continued to do terrible, terrible things to this innocent and it made her heart stir with the distant voices of her ancestors.

She had kept this part of herself buried for almost two hundred years. Her parents had taught her she that she must never acknowledge these feelings, so they scared her and she was afraid to let them surface.

But if her Master continued with his terrible deeds, Widgen realized that she might not have a choice but to listen to her ancestor's promptings and use them to save her Neth Ernil.

~SH~

Elfish Translations:

Neth Ernil: Young Prince