Part 1,5 The Will to Climb
Chapter 12 – At the Bottom of a Well
The world was spinning around, and Nathaniel felt as if he would collapse any second. The grip around his glass of champagne was so tight it threatened to shatter it. The pain. It was all he could think about, all that existed in his world. The dinner guests that were currently staring at him, expecting him to speak, were just smudge. He couldn't see them clearly, and they couldn't see him either. Not really. All he could do was stand there and try not to faint. He was remotely aware that his lips were moving, but he couldn't hear himself speak, had no clue what he was talking about. What was probably two minutes felt like several hours, but after that he finally stopped speaking. The annoying buzz that must have been his own voice disappeared and was replaced by a discreet applause. Finally he could sit down again. He was done.
The smudge moved, one at a time, and buzzed, just like he had. He wished that they would shut up. The pain was almost unbearable, but the worst had already passed, he knew that. It had passed during his own speech. Something on his shoulder. A hand. He turned and faced Hermione. She looked worried. She buzzed, and he shook his head without knowing why. She smiled, buzzed again and turned back towards the smudge with fire on top. Ron? Probably. It was him that they were celebrating. He had gotten a scholarship. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered in the cloud of pain.
Nathaniel got up from his chair, buzzed something to Hermione and staggered – or at least it felt like he was staggering – away from the big tent that he had helped the Weasley's put up. He went into the Burrow, up the stairs to the room that he shared with Percy, and laid down on the bed. He pressed his left forearm against his chest. It burned. The ugly black mark burned like it was on fire. But it was getting better now, soon it would pass. Maybe ten more minutes, then he would be able to think again.
…
Ron felt annoyed. He had gotten this great scholarship, his family were throwing a party all to his honour, and still he wasn't happy. He couldn't possibly be as long as Hermione thought of no one else than Nathaniel. Fine, he couldn't outdo Nathaniel, not in any way, but at least his supposedly best friend should pay him some attention today, on his day.
Nathaniel had held a perfect speech. So perfect that it was on the verge to being silly. The way his voice sounded, how he moved his hands to empathise what he said, how he looked around in the tent and made everyone believe that he were looking them in the eye. Even how the soft breeze that had swept through his hair at exactly the right time. Ron was fully convinced that Nathaniel had used his magic to accomplish that last thing.
He was so jealous that he didn't know what to do of himself. His relatives were talking about Nathaniel, how perfect he was, how lucky Hermione was to have such a boyfriend. Hermione wasn't even going out with him. Sure, they had some type of thing, but it seemed to Ron like Nathaniel had been avoiding Hermione recently. He was the one who had told her that he loved her, not Nathaniel.
"Hey, Ron." It was Harry, looking slightly quizzical. "Why aren't you eating?"
Ron looked down at his full, untouched plate that looked a lot like the plate to Hermione's right, Nathaniel's. Where had he gone? He grabbed his fork and shuffled some food on it. "Haven't gotten started yet," he said with a smile. People were so easily fooled by his fake smile. On that account he was a bit like Nathaniel. Not a pure bred actor, but good enough to fool people when he wanted to. Though he didn't, usually.
"I was afraid you might be trying to go on the same diet as Nathaniel." There it was again. Nathaniel, Nathaniel, Nathaniel. He was all that people ever talked about these days.
"Diet?" asked Ron, stuffing some more potato salad in his mouth.
Harry couldn't help but smile at his friend, the glutton. "Yeah. I hadn't noticed before, but he always eats ridiculously little."
"He's probably snacking when no one's looking," muttered Ron. It was true, Nathaniel didn't eat a lot, but he still wasn't skinny. His abs and muscles in general were.. Well, more impressive than Ron's, to say the least.
Harry laughed. "I have a hard time picturing that."
"Well, golden boy has to have some flaw, right?"
Harry sighed, with that kind of give-upish look on his face that he often got when he saw Nathaniel fly. "I'm not sure he does."
"Talking about me?" Nathaniel had come back. Great.
Harry.. Ron couldn't believe his eyes. Harry blushed. "We we're wondering if you really are flawless."
Nathaniel's expression changed in an instant. It went from somewhat content to dark, almost grim. "I'm far from flawless, Harry."
"Oh, yeah? Then tell me a flaw." Ron saw the warning glance that Hermione directed at Harry, but he didn't seem to notice.
Nathaniel's expression became even darker. Harry had started to realise that he had just set of something in Nathaniel's mind that wasn't good. "I have many faults, but the biggest one is having a soul," he answered quietly before leaving once again. This time Hermione followed him. Ron and Harry got up from their chairs to, ignoring Hermione's glare as they did so.
Ron was becoming increasingly angry. If he had been Nathaniel he would've forced a smile, told them that he were in fact snacking when no one was looking, and then changed the subject. But Nathaniel didn't do that. No, he made a scene out of it, playing hurt, making everyone else feel guilty.
…
Nathaniel could her their steps. Why had he done that? He should have just brushed it of, cracked a joke or something, but Ron's spiteful glare had made it impossible. He was tired and still in pain and when he noticed how Ron looked at him his mind had just shut down. He hadn't been able to come up with anything witty, and had instead blurted the first thing that he came up with. Initially he had intended to sound merry about it, turn it into a grim joke, make his eyes sparkle with false happiness.. But he had failed to do even that.
Nathaniel, wait up.
Hermione was in his head again, and he had to shove all his thoughts away so that she wouldn't find out how much he hated having her in his head all the time, how much he hated Ron and Harry and everyone that didn't see that he was the most flawed being on earth. He shoved it all away in a dark corner that he hoped that Hermione wouldn't try to pry in, and stopped as he had been told.
She was there immediately, hand on his shoulder, comforting him. He didn't need comforting, he needed a bullet through his head. No, that wasn't true. He didn't want to die, he loved being in a world where Voldemort couldn't force him into doing anything, but he was confused. People that he saw around him were always so happy, and to him it felt like looking at the sky from the bottom of a deep well. It was dark where he was, and he wanted the light so bad that he could almost taste it. But he didn't climb. Couldn't, obviously, since the well was so deep, but it was more than that. He didn't even try.
"You know Harry didn't mean anything bad," she said softly.
"Oh, he's well aware of that," Ron snapped. Nathaniel turned to face him as he came up to him, standing way too close. They were about the same hight. "Why do you always have to cause a scene? Harry was just joking, if you know what a joke is."
Ron's anger was like a dark cloud. It covered his view of the wondrous blue sky of happiness. It made the well even deeper. "I didn't mean to cause a scen, I just.."
"Yes, you did!" Ron shouted furiously. Nathaniel couldn't understand why he was so mad at him. "You like showing of, just admit it! If you can't be the great hero with inhuman strength, brains, quidditch skills and looks, then you want to be someone that everyone pities, even if it means that you'll have to make others feel guilty, even when they haven't done anything wrong!"
"Ron!" Hermione warned, but was ignored. Harry just stood there and stared, not believing that his friend actually had all that in him.
If Ron would've stopped and left Nathaniel with just those words, nothing would've happened. But he kept pushing, like he wanted Nathaniel to break. "Just because you look oh so good and are oh so powerful, it doesn't mean that you can just put yourself above everyone else!" he continued. "Well I'm not impressed by your looks, and I'm not afraid of your powers, so don't you dare look down at me like you do with everyone else!"
Half a second of lost concentration was all it took. Ron's face became suddenly pale and wobbled unsteadily. Nathaniel regained control over his magic again, stopped it from causing any lasting damage. "Do you think I chose to look like this!" he pointed at his own face. People thought it was beautiful, but he hated it. Hated looking in the mirror and seing the body that Voldemort had created for his own purposes. Designed to thrall people with it's beauty, and to then strike them down with a single, overpowered spell. "He created my face, my voice, my skills, my power. Everything!" the last word was shouted with such a fury that it pushed Ron down to the ground. "Do you think I am proud to show people what he made me? Glad to be the perfect puppet? Do you really think I would brag about a face that wasn't intended to be mine? Proud of this!" He suddenly jerked his sleeve up and showed them the dark mark. The cursed mark that they had been so anxious to see before the summer. Nathaniel breathed heavily. He had never shouted like that at anyone before, and in a way it felt relieving. But the realisation of what he almost had done a few seconds ago, hit him like a fist in the face. His magic had almost gotten out of control, almost killed Ron, just because he had gotten mad. More than mad. For a moment, the moment that his magic had acted almost on it's own, he had wished that Ron would just die.
Harry and Hermione was staring at him, startled by the sudden outburst. None of them understood what had almost happened. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ron held a hand on his throat, which was probably hurting.
Nathaniel ignored them. He needed to be alone, to have time to collect himself so that he wouldn't lose it again, and actually kill someone. Hermione followed him again, as she always did, but this time she stayed a bit behind him, as if she was afraid.
He kept walking until he stepped into a grove with maple trees. He stopped and took a deep breath. Hermione was in his head, wanting to know how he felt without having to ask. Once again she put her hand on his shoulder. "I didn't know you felt that way."
"Hermione, please get out of my head so that I can think."
She blinked, apparently surprised that she had been discovered. "I'm sorry," she mumbled silently. Immediately he could feel her presence diminish until it disappeared completely. "I didn't mean to pry."
"I know." He sounded tired, and he was. Unbelievably tired. It was odd that Hermione didn't feel it too. She should, since they were linked, feel tired if he did, and feel hunger if he did. Also, she was able to eat and sleep for him, but he didn't say that. Didn't want her to know what a leach he really was. "I'm horrible."
The statement seemed to surprise her. "Why?"
"Because of what I did to Harry, and then to Ron.. And now I'm about to say something terrible to you too." She winced, but said nothing. "Please don't ever get into my head again, unless I ask you to. In a way, I hate having you in my head more than I hated having Voldemort there." He might as well have hit her, because that was how she reacted. "I didn't care what he thought of me, and therefore I could think what I wanted, but it's not the same with you. I don't want you to know how atrocious my soul is, so please don't try to find out."
She looked angry and sad, but most of all guilty. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I didn't know. But Nathaniel, your soul isn't atrocious."
"Right now, I wanted to kill Ron, and I almost did. Did you see his face lose it's colour?" She didn't nod or answer, but he could see in her eyes that she knew what he was talking about. "That was my magic, stopping the blood flow to his brain. I lost control, and I almost killed him."
"That wasn't your fault. Ron acted like an ass, it's not weird to lose control bec.."
"It didn't happen just because I lost control, it happened because I wanted him dead, because that's the kind of person I am. The kind that kills others when he gets mad."
He could still see it in her eyes. Denial. She didn't want to believe that about him, so she tried to find another explanation. Why couldn't she just realise that he could never be what she wanted him to be? That his soul would always be scarred by the things that Voldemort had done, by the things Voldemort had made him do, and all those memories. The despicable memories that created the despicable artificial human that he was.
(I felt that I needed to add a couple of chapters between part one and two, after realizing how much must had happened during the summer. Anyway, I've always wanted to incorporate that part when Nathaniel gets furious and yells at someone about not being proud because of his looks, and I also wanted something to create a contrast against the picture of an overly confident and proud Nathaniel that I have in my head. Hope you like it. Please review! - Alvarin)