A/n: Okay so people are calling for Bruce's head, understandable. Some are even wondering if Harry is going to be all forgiving at the rate it's going; once again fair point. A large majority even suggested this was going to be a Stockholm Syndrome fic and yea I can see where you would get the idea. Someone even said he's ooc, yea pretty much, sorry he isn't the canon persona you're used to.
Point in case? I read all your reviews and value your opinions even the ones that outright call me crazy and have declared quitting this fic. I apologize for any mistakes found as usual. With that said, enjoy this chapter… or y'know, don't C:
Warnings: Stuff that may or may not upset you terribly.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Batman.
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"Even death has a heart."
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief
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Chapter Seven pt2
"Hurry up! Get him!"
"He's getting away you idiot!"
He hated this game, he hated it as much as he hated deep bodies of water, as much as he hated the boys chasing him.
Harry Hunting they called it, as if he was supposed to be honored they named a game of torture after him. He stumbled but quickly gained back his momentum, this he was used to, running, being afraid.
He was used to it from the orphanage but under his grand-father's care he had forgotten just how horrible children could be and now here he was again, running.
He was wheezing now, every barely there breath appearing as a small white cloud in the chilly air. He knew he should never have wandered out of the manor, the boys knew better than to torment him within earshot of any of the adults but he felt cooped up.
Bruce's friends had been over for nearly two weeks now. Alfred called it a slumber party but when he glanced up at Bruce he knew otherwise. Apparently the three other boys were going overseas for the remainder of their christmas vacation but had wanted to spend some time with Bruce before they flew to warmer tropical climates.
Or in other words, they wanted to torment him before leaving.
He had endured it, close to fourteen days of constant teasing but limited physical assault since he stuck close to the maids or Alfred until they grew bored of waiting and crept off to do something else.
He stayed silent when at breakfast and lunch they stole his food, laughed at himself when one of them tripped him over and the maids called him clumsy but he had felt claustrophobic in the huge house as silly as that had sounded, so when they were occupied he snuck off outside for a fresh breath of cold lung freezing air.
For a long time he had stayed outside, under the gazebo just staring out at the white blanket of snow that covered everything and for the first time in many many winters he could appreciate just how pretty it looked. That may have been because he wasn't on the verge of dying from the cold in a shambled building where the rodents had more body fat than he did.
Then they arrived prompting him to run, they followed and the snow suddenly seemed much less beautiful and more hostile. The fresh air freezing his lungs and made his body numb.
He knew he was a long way from the manor, further than he had ever ventured and out of the sight and earshot of any adult. Harry yelped when he foot sank down a couple of inches giving Bruce and his cronies time to catch up by the time he pulled himself free.
"Look what we caught boys, a huge rat!"
"It looks a bit boney doesn't it Francis, maybe it's hungry, starving even"
Gregory snickered and Harry's eyes darted to Bruce because he was the one who always instigated the pain.
"He's used to that though aren't you Harry, before Alfred picked you up and brought you into my home you were used to feeling empty weren't you. Did you miss that feeling?"
Harry shook his head inching back when Gregory stepped forward. He hated this boy more than Bruce. Gregory Quentin loved to cause him pain.
Bruce frowned, tilting his head so that whatever hair wasn't tucked inside of the snow hate flopped to the side.
"Too bad for you then"
As always Alex looked nervous and Francis just looked about as ready as Gregory did.
"Guys come on, it's cold. Can't we do this another day or maybe inside?"
Out of them all he hated Alex the least because he could tell the boy didn't want to hurt him like the others. Why he was friends with Francis, Bruce and Gregory he didn't know.
Gregory scoffed, stomping over to Alex and being a good head taller than the boy he towered over him easily.
"I told you already that if you're willing to trade places with the leach then we'd be happy to help you y'know"
Harry watch Alex shake his head, his pale lips pressed tightly together and Harry knew he wouldn't be anymore help. Gregory turned to Bruce who looked bored for all the world leaning against the old maple tree that was bare of any leaves dead in the winter.
A simple shrug from the Wayne heir was enough of a signal for Gregory to land a quick and hard kick in Harry's side. Fast enough that he didn't have any time to roll away and hard enough that any breath he gained back was immediately lost.
Francis cheered and mimicked the boy, taking aim for his exposed side almost at the same time Gregory gave him another well placed kick to his left side.
"He's not squealing Greg, maybe we're not hitting him hard enough eh" Francis straddled his waist, his fist balled into the blue and grey jacket Harry decided to wear before Francis' free hand connected with his chest.
Harry knew his pleas were falling on deaf ears as they always did but it still didn't stop him from trying from asking Alex, from begging Bruce.
His body hurt, burned, ached and every other synonym that meant pain. Closing his eyes helped sometimes, to not see them gave him a bit of reprieve even if he knew they would still be there over him, hitting him, he could pretend.
They were as careful as always to only hit him below the neck, where clothing could hide the fresh bruises and the fading ones, honestly he didn't know that bullies could be so smart.
Then again the only bullies he had to compare them to were desperate and terrified children that were just as worst off as he was. Poor bullies compared nothing to Rich ones.
His scarf was pulled from his neck, a chill instantly taking place over the warmth.
"You idiot! You hit him where someone could see!" that was Gregory's voice.
A small voice in his head, one that was always sarcastic and mean even during his orphanage days pipped up muttering that these people were going to be adults one day, running people over with their expensive cars and getting off with a few thousands dollars fine for near murder.
"He moved! It wasn't my fault!" and that was Francis' voice.
Harry opened his eyes, peeking up at the two boys standing over him. Gregory was inches away from Francis' face, a look of pure anger coating his features while Francis just looked defiant.
"What are we gonna do if someone asks him about it huh? He bruises like a peach and you hit him above the collar line!" Gregory punched Francis just to emphasize his point making the other boy yelp and flinch away incase he was lashed out against again.
"Then… we just make sure he doesn't! Bruce can tell his butler that we saw the urchin run off with a book in his hand or something right Bruce?"
Harry turned his head to stare at Bruce as best as he could without drawing attention to himself. The boy shrugged after a long moment of what might've been contemplation.
Francis cheered and punched Gregory back in the arm "See! We won't get caught!"
Gregory didn't look pleased but seemed to concede since Bruce agreed in his usual manner. Harry always thought that the Wayne heir almost never gave a verbal affirmation because if he was asked about anything concerning the bruises and cuts on Harry then could lie by telling the truth.
"So how are we gonna shut him up then? The butler will be waiting on his when we get back inside to take the coats and stuff. He's gonna see that"
Harry didn't know if the sneer on the boy's face was directed on what he could guess was the darkening bruise or if it was thrown in his general direction, what bothered him was that all their attention was returned to him.
"He won't say anything 'cuz he knows that if he does then when we get back from vacation he'd just-" Alex ducked his head at the dual glare from Gregory and Francis alike, shrinking backwards by a few steps.
Harry stared at the boy from where he laid, a new sense of gratitude no matter how weird and perhaps misplaced it may have been. The boy had tried to help him again, not that it worked but he tried and if he could without getting them both beaten to a pulp he would thank Alex.
"Don't be stupid Stanway, he'll squeal on us the first moment he gets"
"We need another plan, if you don't help Stanway then we'll have to think about your position in this group later on"
Gregory tsked, turning around in a circle a few times then stopping, his head tilted to the side as he stared at something in the distance.
"Is that an old shed over there Bruce?" Francis, Bruce and Alex crowded over to look in the direction he was pointing in.
Bruce shrugged.
"Maybe, but I doubt the door will be any good, the groundskeepers don't tend to this side of the house much"
Gregory grinned and Harry felt dread fill his belly. Normally he would aim to stay as still as possible until they were finished but despite all the names they often called him he wasn't even close to being as stupid as they thought.
So while it may not have been a good idea to try to run, he saw no choice in trying. Scrambling up he knocked Delaware's legs from under him, the boy yelping and taking down the two closest to him in an effort to stay upright. It just so happened those two were Bruce and Gregory.
He heard cursing behind him but that was the whole point of basically signing his death warrant for knocking the boys down. Getting away was the motto of the day.
"Get back here you little fuck!"
Harry was panting already but he guessed that was what he got for enduring having his meals stolen from him.
"We should've drowned you back then you little shit! Stop running and we'll make it easier for you!"
If anything Harry only panicked more, looking back he saw not only Quentin, Delaware and Alex were behind him but Bruce was in pursuit as well, the boy's face contorted in fury.
Harry felt like crying when he realized just how far away the manor was, his steps getting increasingly more difficult as he went on. Fatigue and ankle deep snow worked against him and soon enough he felt something hard and heavy crash into his back.
"Gotcha! I got him Gregs!"
"Lemme go!" he never spoke back, having learnt since the orphanage that it only fueled them on but to be placed in a garden shed in the middle of winter was good well as dumping him back in Wool's.
"Oh ho it speaks guys!" Francis shoved his face into the snow, knocking the hat from his head in order to grab at his hair.
"I won't tell I swear! Bruce I won't tell! I won't tell! I won't please don't-"
"Shut up!" he got a mouth full of snow for his efforts and he coughed spitting out what hadn't melted. Swinging his arm back Harry felt a deep satisfaction when his elbow connected with the middle child of the Delaware's, the boy crying out in pain and holding his face.
"It's fighting Franny! It must be really scared now huh, it never did that before. Normally it's so… quiet."
Gregory replaced Francis on his back, dodging another one of Harry's bony elbows instead taking the arm and twisting it behind his back. This time it was Harry's turn to cry out and he stopped moving when he felt the muscles in his arm pull and the bones hurt in a way that made him go still.
"I should break it y'know, you wouldn't die, and when we come back for you you could tell dear ole' Alfie that you tripped over a stone hidden under the snow that made you land wrong yea?"
"I'm s-sorry! P-please d-don't b-break my arm please!" he was crying again, the tears not nearly as warm but nearly as cold as he felt lying in the snow.
"I like it when he begs, almost makes me think he's human. What'dya think Bruce?"
Bruce crouched down, and like a dog presenting it's master with a kill Gregory pulled his head back so that Bruce could look directly at his face.
"Don't get me wrong, I rather be inside at the fireplace watching tv or something but I'm trying to be a good person here. You obviously have some delusions about your place here, about the bed you sleep in, the food you eat, about Alfred, and I'm just trying to save you the heartbreak when you decide to tell him on us."
"I w-won't I-I p-promise"
"You will if we let you go now, but let's make a deal Harry. If you stay inside of the shed for a few hours we'll come back for you before anyone notices you've gone missing."
"I-I d-don't want t-to ple-please Bruce I-I don't want t-to"
Harry watched as Bruce frowned, his black gloves making random doodles in the snow as if he only had half his attention on Harry at the moment.
"Yea well, you either go now and agree to the deal or we leave you in there until nighttime and wait until you're asked about before telling them where we 'saw you head out to'. Do you really want to revisit cold nights where you couldn't even feel your toes, or maybe you'd like that since Alfred fawned over you so much"
"What's it gonna be huh freak? A few hours or until night?"
Harry nodded his head and Bruce smiled.
"Good boy. If things were different you would've made a great dog hmm, too bad you turned out to be a rat"
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"Let me out! Please let me out!" Harry pounded on the wooden door that was stiff with ice, the hinges barely moved when they had forced him inside and locked it again from the outside.
That had been hours ago, the dim rays of sunlight having faded to nothing and the cracks between the wood showing no light outside.
"Please!" what little voice he had regained was long gone but he couldn't stop, maybe someone would pass by and help him, to get him out.
"Please… somebody" he couldn't cry any longer. His eyelashes were frozen and his tears had begun to harden on his cheeks when he realized that Bruce had indeed forgotten him.
Pushing himself away from the door he tried to avoid touching the old gardening equipment that littered the shed, the metal so cold it felt as if it was burning through his gloves and clothing.
Grabbing an old burlap sack he had found stuffed behind a few boxes of bird seed and dried up flowers. Resting it on the ground so that he wouldn't have to directly come in contact with the frosty ground Harry tucked his hands under his arm and huddled himself tight.
He wouldn't die. Alfred or Mrs. Robins would find him and take him inside with a big cup of cocoa.
This wasn't anything like the orphanage. He would be saved like the first time around and Alfred would give him a big hug and a kiss before he was sent off to bed.
There would be no rats or mean children or no horrible matron that sold them to adults.
He would be back in his big cozy bed that Alfred had presented to him, he would snuggle under the comforter and fall asleep on the soft pillows.
He wouldn't have to sleep on newspaper or be thrown in the backroom where all the illest children were sent to die.
He would wake up to a nice breakfast and listen to tell him tales about her children and grandchildren and about hot-air balloons and France. Alfred would smile and top off his orange juice without asking because he was a growing boy and growing boys needed their vitamins.
No more cold, and hunger and fear.
Just Alfred.
Harry blinked, not knowing he had closed his eyes. He was cold. His teeth had long stopped chattering.
He was numb.
Jerking himself awake again Harry tried to blink but his face felt just as numb as his legs, arms and bum. A small part of him whispered not to sleep, he knew that he shouldn't fall asleep.
Alfred would find him soon and he didn't want the man to have to lift him all the way back to the manor.
… But maybe he could just doze until his grandfather came.
Sleeping would take his mind off of how cold he was, off of how hungry he had been.
He wasn't going to die just sleep, so he ignored the voice that whispered yes you are.
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"Master. Wake up Master"
Harry groaned and reached for the pillow that always ended up beside him only to fall. He screamed, scrambling to grab a hold of something anything before he could fall and hit the ground before he died.
Opening his eyes Harry stared at the darkness around him and he wondered if it was still night time but normally his night light would be on.
"Master"
Spinning around Harry searched the pitch black surroundings looking for the owner of the voice.
"I'm no Master, just Harry. Are you looking for Bruce?"
Turning again he screamed when the area seemed much less darker than it had before the tall figure of a person appeared.
"W-who are you? What d-do you want?"
Looking up into the void where the face should have been that seemed to be composed of the darkest dark he stepped backwards.
The figure didn't move nor speak for a long moment and Harry could almost imagine the minutes tick by, then his face was being cradled by a boney hand. His breath stuttered in his lungs and he froze staring wide eyed into the obscure.
"Oh Master, what have they done to you"
Harry continued to stare, not daring to move.
"More broken than the last, more scared than before."
"Do you want to stay, or do you want to go this time around Master?"
"W-w-what?"
The skeletal fingers rubbed his cheek. "Do you wish to stay or pass on"
"P-p-pass o-on w-where?"
The cloaked darkness tilted its head and for the first time since their meeting Harry noticed he couldn't tell if it was male or female.
"Does my form still frighten you Master, yes yes it just might. Present you have no memory of me as Past you did"
"You n-not making any sense!"
The hand on his cheek grew warmer and the fleshless bones filled out until they were pale fingers attached to a slender arm and a beautiful face. Harry stared at the red-haired woman before him, brilliant green eyes and a dimpled smile.
It was like staring into a mirror and seeing his own eyes.
"Do you recognise this woman? Her body?" the voice was definitely female now, sweet and soft as the hand caressing his cheek.
Harry shook his head.
"Did you not know your mother in this life either Master?" he saw his reflection in the green pools, shock clear on his face.
"M-my… my m-mum?"
"Yes your mother. I take from your reaction you have no memory of her then."
The woman seemed to sigh and her features morphed and shifted until Harry was staring at himself, a near perfect replica that had dark eyes instead of green and an expression that could only be described as a poker face.
"What… what are you?"
His doppelganger tilted it head. "I am Death."
Harry's eyes widened. "What do you want with me? I'm not dead so why are you here?"
A sliver of pity shone in it's eyes, the hand now the same size as Harry's reached forward and placed it's palm on his chest.
"I only appear when called. When the cord of life has been cut, when the heart has ceased and the brain has stilled. When the soul has given up and the body cold. I am here because you called out to me Master"
"I'm not dead! I'm waiting for Alfred to find me! S-sure I may be a bit cold but… but I'm not dead! I'm just asleep…I was just sleeping… I'm sure of it- I'm sure."
Harry looked into the depthless gaze "Aren't I?"
Death shook its head, tapping Harry's chest once with its childlike finger and suddenly the simple warmth turned cold, chilling, numbing.
Harry gasped, his hands wrapping themselves around him as if to stave off the coldness. The air seemed to have been reduced to nothing and his lungs couldn't find space to expand, he was gonna die, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't feel anything and he was so cold it hurt.
"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die!"
Death touched his chest again and the cold disappeared as if it had been a simple wind. His breath returned and the thousand mile darkness around him was warm again, but Harry could only stare at the being standing before him a deep pain pulsed in his chest because he wasn't asleep.
He was no longer in the shed asleep and waiting for his grandfather.
He was dead.
He had died.
"H-how… " he knew how he died, it was obvious but to hear it from what was the God of Demise was another.
"You froze, your body temperature dropped, your body went into shock. Your heart stopped and your brain discontinued its functions."
He nodded. "Has anyone… has anyone found my-my b-body yet?"
Death shook its head.
"So what now, are you going to take my soul to the afterlife? Is this the afterlife? This darkness?"
Death chuckled, a small nearly not there smile curved at its lips.
"No, this is not your afterlife Master, far from it."
"Why do you keep calling me that, I'm not a Master of anything and what does my afterlife look like then if not this?"
Death frowned before its countenance reverberated back to the emotionless state. "I suppose you are right. You are no longer my Master, at least not the present you. Your soul is the same as is your body but you are not the same as you once were"
Harry frowned. He really didn't like riddles at all.
"Why am I am here then."
Death smiled. "You may not be my past Master in your present body but your soul is still the same. I asked you a question in your last life and I shall ask you it again"
The boy with the black eyes morphed into the tall hooded figure once more, a deadly and impossibly dangerous looking scythe held in one boney skeletal hand.
"Do you wish to pass on into the afterlife or do you wish to return"
Harry stared into the darkness of the hood, oddly calm despite the circumstances he found himself in. He had never felt so calm before and he wondered if this was what it felt like to have composure.
Did he want to return to Gotham, to Wayne manor where Bruce was waiting for him to steal his food, rob him of his barely there self-esteem and general torture him worse than the matron at Wool's ever did. He had nothing waiting for him there… nothing except Alfred. His grandfather had showed him nothing but love and kindness since the first day they had met and Harry only knew him as a stranger beside his bed, to abandon the man who had no one else but him would be heartless.
But to return to that torture, humiliation and loneliness… well that was unacceptable.
"What does my afterlife look like? Will I be flying in the clouds, swimming under the sea? Will live the life I've always dreamed of?"
Death did the unexpected and shrugged.
"Anything you want it to be and it shall. A realistic dream where you are the creator, actor and audience. A world you can never tire of, where you can be eternally happy"
"Forever happy?"
"Yes."
Harry bit his lips, worrying the flesh until it stung. He could stay and have the life he had always wanted. A mother, a father, a nice house and pets. Friends to play with, movie nights and sleepovers. He had seen what his mother had looked like, the woman had always been a faceless human along with his father but now he had seen her.
"Before I give you my answer, please tell me what happened to my parents. Why did they leave me to be placed with the Dursley's?"
Death tilted its head. "Your parents died in a car accident. An intoxicated driver collided with their car and sent it over a bridge and into the water below. They both died on the impact, it was almost instantaneous"
Harry nodded and smiled up at the hooded form. "I was loved then. They didn't abandon me, they loved me then"
Death paused and readjusted the grip it had on the scythe.
"The memories that played before their brains lost capacity tell me that yes. You were loved very much, as much love as two humans can give to someone else"
Harry laughed, the sound almost foreign to his ears. He hadn't laughed in so long it seemed strange to hear such a noise coming from his mouth.
He was crying again, the tears not hindered by the biting cold but freely running down his cheeks.
"I was loved. My mum and dad loved me"
"They did. Still do. Even now their afterlife is filled with memories and a life with you. You have grown and lived so many times and each time it's replayed the scenario hardly changes. They… are content and happy with just you three"
Harry's grin seemed to overtake his face and for the first time in a long, long time he felt sheer unadulterated joy.
He could have that too, the life he had always wanted. A family of his own, to be happy everyday and each day to wake up with the feeling of being wanted, and needed and love. But a tiny part of him, the sarcastic and mean part that was always snarky and hidden away told him that he could always have that just not yet.
And he agreed.
"I want to go back"
He got the impression that Death had just raised an eyebrow. "Why"
"Because I'm not done yet, my grandfather is back there and I'm… I'm not ready to leave just yet."
"You wish to go back despite what waits for you there. The pain and hurt from those children, the agony you shall be in from your bones and flesh so cold. You are prepared for that?"
He wasn't actually. He didn't know how he would handle it all but he knew that he would find a way. Alfred needed him just as much as Harry needed the man.
"No, but I still want to go back"
Death was smiling, he could feel it.
"Present you is becoming Past you. Your soul is returning as so shall our contract. Not the same as you were before, no no, not even close, but Master is returning, two becomes one"
Death was grinning, it was happy.
"We shall see each other very soon Master. Very soon indeed"
Harry grinned back and like a light switch had been turned on his body grew numb, his mind fuzzy and he was in pain, so much pain that all he could do was cry out.
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And then Harry woke up.
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A/n: Alrighty then there we go.
Please let's just see how things progress before you raise your torches and ready the stake. Once again no Harry won't be a simpering victim of abuse, no he won't just magically fall in love with Bruce after what he has been through, no this isn't a Stockholm Syndrome relationship, no Harry won't be all forgiving and crap. Actually this has taken a bit of a curveball from what I imagined haha, a bit darker than what it was supposed to be sooo, the genre will be changed after all. Celebrate rebellion, you've won.
I'll try to update after exams, wish me luck against math. No seriously please wish me luck I suck at it.
