With Every Sacrifice

Chapter 8: Our True Name

Harry Potter slowly awoke to a loud banging that was going on in his brain. Hazy, green eyes slowly opened to stare into clear gray ones.

"Mr. Potter, feeling any better?" Irvine lightly asked then he pulled away from leaning over Harry's still form.

"What's that. Noise?" Harry whispered, and Irvine winced.

"Nothing." He said, as he hastily put the spoon and cup behind his back.

A smile crossed Irvine's features as he quickly stuffed the items under a blanket that was on the floor as Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position. The quiet room was filled with noon sunlight and Harry squinted while looking around the room. He fumbled around for his glasses and scooped them up into his hands to clumsily place them on his face.

"Hey, there crooked!" Irvine exclaimed and easily fixed the glasses with a quick flick of his wrist and a quiet adjust of his fingers.

"T-thanks." The younger man stammered out. "Um, was I asleep for too long?" He asked. He felt groggy and shaky at the same time.

"'Bout a week." Irvine said happily.

A moment passed, and Harry's shocked expression was all that greeted the college student.

"I'm just joking Mr. Potter, nothing to worry about. It's only been a day since you got sick, no worries." Irvine said, easily smoothing over his previous lies

The room seemed quite a bit smaller to Harry when Irvine stretched out his long arms then easily shed his shirt.

"So, you've been doing what for the past day?" Harry questions as he quickly averted his eyes as Irvine changed into cleaner clothes.

"Eating, drinking. Taking care of a sick little boy, not really sleeping much." He murmured as he finished pulling on a white shirt that finished off his ensemble of white and khaki.

He had heard Harry's shocked gasp when he spoke of the past day's activities but had decided to keep plowing on by talking.

"So, since I missed a class or two on your account I think you owe me something, Mr. Harry Potter." He elaborated, smiling in Harry's general direction. His smile quickly transformed into a small frown, then he crossed the room to pull Harry's face toward him.

"I think you owe me."

"O-owe you? I, um, like what?" Harry stammered out, as he tried to pull his face away from Irvine's strong grip. It didn't really succeed, and Harry was worried if it would bruise.

Once hazy eyes, slowly felt what understanding of the older man that he had before, change quickly into full blown confusion.

"Why take care of me? Why have you been so nice, you don't know me!" He forced out then pulled away from the strong hold in one quick jerk.

"What's the point of worrying about someone like me! I'm not important, not enough for someone like you to bother with! Your not like my teachers who want me to save them somehow, even though half the time I have no clue how to do anything! Your not like half the world who just thinks I can do anything just because of my name! And. Your just like all the rest! You'll only help me to get something from it! Like everyone else, even if they say they don't want anything, everyone wants something!" Harry practically yelled out, as his anger and confusion about the brown haired man (and Harry's own lot in life) came crashing down around the boy's senses.

Irvine smirked and let his hand brush lazily against Harry's slightly red jaw.

"Simple. You're my Sacrifice." Irvine said with a trace of warmth to his voice.

"Even before we were born. It was to be. We're partners for life, you and I. If you die, I die."

Harry had to force his next words to come out of his dry mouth in a coherent sentence. Too bad no matter how hard he tried it didn't work the way he wanted.

"W-what!" The boy blinked, then wondered if staying up for a whole day had messed with Irvine's brain or something.

"There's no … way. You'd die? And, what do you mean by sacrifice?" Harry forced out, feeling like he had been stupefied by an unknown attacker.

The light in the room momentarily changed as the sun was over taken by pesky clouds. A shadow fell over Harry's face, so Irvine backed up a bit to see the black haired boy clearly.

Harry could see the surprise that also filtered for a split second across Irvine's features.

"Pray tell, Mr. Potter. You really don't know anything about the origin of spells, do you?"

"O-origin?"

Irvine's voice spoke out, and Harry decided he wouldn't let this opportunity get away from him. He spoke seconds after Irvine brought out his first syllable.

"What do you mean by the origin? You know about magic spells? Did the Order send you or someone else?" Harry questioned uncertainly.

Irvine leaned against the wall and slid down it to a sitting position loosely on the floor. His bangs flew into his eyes as he slowly shook his head.

"I don't know about such an Order and I do know about spells. Or more precisely, the power that words have to become spells. There isn't a really set specific concerning them.. Don't interrupt. If you do, I'll leave you in the dark without a clear way out." He warned, and his eyes glared at Harry for one final moment until he relaxed.

"I- ok." Harry confirmed. He rubbed his sore jaw then got comfortable on the bed, feeling that he was in for a lot of listening.

"Good, Mr. Potter. I guess the basics would be the best place to start. Our name, our true name, is Deathless. It is something only we share, a bond that cannot be broken. A team that shall not be torn asunder.

I am your Fighter and you are my Sacrifice. I fight for you and do as you say while in return you take the damage for me."

Irvine sighed. He felt he wasn't saying this in the best manner, but was too tired to try much harder.

"I've searched for my Sacrifice for the last seven years, but I could never figure out who shared the same name as me. Well, not until I went, hmm, well, went off the deep end, so to say. My father would be proud anyways. But I digress, so, after finding that I actually did have a Sacrifice out in the bustling grip of Hogwarts, I decided to find the best way to get to you. By coming here." He said, and Harry could feel his eyes widening at the words he was hearing.

Deathless, the one without death


The boy felt his scar with shaking hands.

It made sense.

Krylancelo Note:

If it doesn't make the best sense then it will later, probally by the next chapter. I wrote the majority of this at about 4 this morning so I think my brain was going faster than my hands put words out. Just the truth. The fighter/sacrifice idea is from Loveless, I adore this method. Though it would work well. Review and you'll see more Irvine!