Disclaimer: The authorities took away my fake Harry Potter ownership papers.
Disclaim her: You will track him down and engage him.
Note: Out of character with: Harry, Remus, and Voldemort…
Rating: M for Mature.
Point of View: First.
"speech" thoughts and/or mind speech (Harry and Voldemort) Parseltongue
I do not own the quote below.
A/N: We not the depth of our love until the time of our departure.
Chapter 28: Recovery
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I can't think. My mind…I can't…WHAT HAVE I DONE?! Oh God…! I can't have…! NO! No! …No…! No…
The world goes black.
…
There is a touch against my arm and I open my eyes slowly. I remember…again. I feel my inconsolable tears and shame return and cannot bear to even move.
"Harry?!"
My gaze slips from where I can still see him lying and back to the floor.
"What happened?" There is a prolonged silence and then a horrified gasp. "What happened to-?!"
Oh dear god. It's…Remus. I told him…not to leave. Why…why is he here? Am I hallucinating again?
…I wish to the gods that I were.
"OH MY GOD!" His scream is a wail of terrible pain.
I feel my eyes close once more and lapse into nightmares.
He's coming for me; he's going to kill me. After they find out what I have done, they'll put me to death without a moment's hesitation…!
…
There is someone shaking me. The realization of what I've done returns so quickly that I feel ill. But I cannot do a thing to relieve this feeling of sickness in my stomach.
"Thank god you're all right…!"
Not…him. Anyone but…him! I can't bear to meet his eyes ever again!
Again, I try to force out the contents of my insides but to no avail.
…As if from a distance, I recognize the sensation of his arms encircling myself.
"Shh, everything is going to be all right. You're safe now."
I blindly push at his arms and feel my body connect sharply with the floor as his grip loosens. Don't touch me!
"Harry?!"
After what I've done, I should be killed! I should be sent to Azkaban! I should be-!!
Calm down,he whispers very quietly.Calm down.
I feel myself being gathered into his arms and my emotional barrier breaks down in a blink of an eye as I feel myself begin to cry blindly with no restraint whatsoever.
I killed my own godfather! I killed Sirius! I killed…!
Hush now. Everything will be all right. Just breathe.
How can you fucking say that?! I killed my own godfather!
"It wasn't your fault."
I scream into his robes as I dig my fingers into his side as hard as I possibly can with blind fury. I should have known that it was Sirius! I should have known that when he didn't resist something was terribly wrong…! How could I have been so stupid?!
"It wasn't your fault."
Yes it was. He may try to cover up the truth to ease your pain, but you know what really happened.
He moves his hand in circles on my back and I calm without meaning to. My sobs gradually ease to sniffs and I give a pathetic little hiccup against his shoulder. He's taken away all of my worthless agony and pushed it back somewhere in my mind or maybe he's absorbed it as his own because I don't have any possible idea of what just happened. And from this, I cannot find any solid reason to cry anymore.
I understand…that I've…murdered my godfather, but I can't access the emotions that would normally make me scream and cry. And…I can't remember how I killed him. So did what I did really occur? …Why would I make this up?
A malicious thought springs up in my mind and my thoughts in return turn black. …He wouldn't have wiped my memory would he?
Yes, he would.
Shut up!
You shouldn't be so trusting, even if it is him, my mind mutters cruelly.
"I didn't erase your memory."
"………"
"I didn't."
"……………What did you do?"
"I took away what it is that makes you feel pain."
"…You have no right." No, he does not!
Out of nowhere murderous thoughts that I have not reflected upon for weeks return with full fledged support, and I cannot help but turn to them. What a fickle continuation of life this is.
Oh yes it is! Let's kill him! Let's take his very essence away and devour it I say! He deserves no less! Do it. DO IT NOW!
On a point where a small stretch of my sanity lingers like a lost child, it frantically tries to induce my cooperation in turning away from my treacherous mind. But why should I listen? He's taken away what makes me remember how I felt about Sirius!
I push him away forcefully and the emptiness that I usually associate with my lost magic splashes over rational thought and I am reminded powerfully of death. Oh, he will suffer! There will be no mercy! No mercy!
"Give it back you bastard! You had no right! You don't understand what he was to me!" My voice is foreign to my ears and glass shatters in the back round from my scream.
He reaches out with a hand to most likely offer consolation, but I back away with no small amount of anger. "Calm down Harry. I don't want to restrain you, but I will if necessary." His voice is soft; a voice used to soothe wild beasts.
"NO! I want you to give back my feelings! It's the only thing that proves that I exist properly!"
Without my emotions, I remain broken off from all other humans. Even though I despise being myself, I know deep down that I need physical connections in order to remain intact! …Everyone needs it.
"…You will relapse again. I don't want you that way…"
"You do not govern the way I feel! I am me! I don't care what the hell you think!" I procure my wand out of nowhere and cast the first spell I can think of, which happens to be the Cruciatus.
He casts a Disarming spell and my wand splits from my fingers to fly yards away from me. No matter, I have my wandless-
His aura asphyxiates my mind and my memory is forced down ruthlessly in a flicker of the simplest of movements. I can't remember how to cast! I can't remember anything! There's nothing…nothing!
"Now, will you please calm down?"
And you thought he would be understanding, my mind hisses furiously. How naïve.
Help me! For god's sake, help me!
I've given up resistance; I just can't carry on!
Then forfeit control, and I'll help you child. I'll help you; he won't hurt what is mine.
All worldly control over my limbs is released, and my mind takes command of myself while pushing me gently back into submission. This is… quiet; I do not mind. I calmly shut my eyes and pay no attention to what it means to remain a tangible existence.
I feel the severing of the connection of himself to me. My mind has slaughtered Voldemort.
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When I open my eyes, I find I am very close to his body. There is a silence that could splinter reality, and I sit up and venture closer toward where it is he lies. There is an odd kind of incomprehension within what remains of my mind. I blink.
Was Remus really here? What…happened? Was Voldemort's presence all part of a delusion as well?
Sirius' fingers are charred and I watch, as if in a body of another, myself make contact with him very gently, fingertip to fingertip. I presently find myself attempting to retch up my insides a moment later. Black fluid splatters the floor inches from his robes and I cannot stop the upheaval within myself. I choke up another amount of the burning liquid onto the wood and continue to do so until I lay slumped over and gasping for breath.
I cannot remove my gaze from his corpse…I cannot move forward. A shriek never expressed by my body before this very moment erupts from my lips and continues for what seems like an eternity.
A rushing of footsteps…and a sudden encircling of arms around my body abruptly collapses the emotional backlash and my body suddenly becomes unresponsive from the sensitivity of being near him.
It hurts!
Yes, it does. ……I want you to cry, even though it will make you feel even worse about the matter. Believe me…it will help.
I burst into tears out of my own accord just from the mere mention of what has happened and feel my death grip upon him tighten even more if that were possible. With reckless abandon, I sob into his robes, and a sense of plausible comfort comes to me from his end of the link we maintain.
He says nothing, and he lets me cry for who knows how long against him. But after a point, my tears abruptly cease from no apparent source. My frame lies lifeless against his and again much time passes. I have not the strength nor the will to do anything other than lay still at the moment. If I move I fear I will break down again.
He lifts me up and my breath comes out in a prolonged exhale. I am…through, finished. With a few whispered words I feel the tug of the Side-long Apparation spell and I nearly let myself lapse into unconsciousness. But I mustn't. If I do, I know I will…
There is the clicking of an opening of a door, and weary voices immediately begin to call out. But then there is an abrupt silence, and the voices cease.
All I can make myself concentrate on is the slow, sure sound of his footsteps on the floor. In all my tiredness, I force my numbed mind to reach out to his and seek out solace within his mind because I do not believe that I could defend my own against what I know will be nightmares.
…A tear slips down my cheek as silent as a feather on snow.
Another door clicks open and I am laid down on something very soft, a bed perhaps? He pulls off my shoes and I feel him tug off my robes, jeans, and shirt. My mind settles down deeply into his and I distantly recall being bathed at one point, but my brain continues to detach and shut down at random intervals so I am not sure if it really occurred. Again I am clothed, but I am pushed into sheets that have no measure of comfort. …I could sleep forever.
"Everything will be all right." His whisper is soft--a call to endless sleep. I cannot help but comply; I shut my eyes, and the burden of my godfather's death departs as I enter a slumber of emptiness and deep abandon of material things.
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I don't know why I give in to his coaxing to come down to breakfast.
I am dully surprised as I see the Death Eaters at the table. Somewhere in the back of my mind where I still function properly, I take a guess and say that they're here to stay. It's not safe anymore…I suppose…but when was it ever?
I am worn out and do not wish to start any semblance of a conversation. The nagging of the murder I've committed pounds in a headache and I can only wish I was back in bed trying to get myself sleep as after I fell asleep, I woke up and could not make my mind stop the repetition of every movement I made until I caused my godfather's death. …I cried again and I felt his acute awareness of this action the entire time I sobbed into the pillows. He did nothing, and in the back of my thoughts, I was grateful beyond belief.
……I can't connect with him on a matter such as this.
"Have some eggs, you'll feel a little better after eating something." He slides a plate to me and I look at it blankly; I don't want to eat anything. The very smell of food makes nausea rise up in my stomach and I nearly cannot control the overwhelming urge to be sick over the table.
My voice comes across as a small child's, and I want to slap myself. "I don't want anything Tom."
"Toast then."
"…Fine. Just remove the eggs from my sight." The desire to vomit is still very high and I cannot help being cross.
"All right." His voice is filled with unhappiness and I force myself to not look him in the eyes. I watch my fingers begin to shred the bread carefully; I want to scream out loud from the pain I cannot express.
Slow and sure footsteps make their way to my side and I acknowledge this loosely as I continue to tear what once was toast to crumbs. A smile begins to form unheeded upon my features and I nearly laugh out loud at the sudden thought. What ever did happen to my owl?
I look up, noticing offhandedly that the table appears to have gone oddly quiet, and nearly faint. Even my mind goes still.
"…Harry."
I cannot force breath into my lungs; I feel as if I am going to collapse.
"May I speak with you?" It is not a question.
Words would mean nothing in this situation. I push back from my chair and stand slowly while grasping the arm of the chair in order to steady my legs; I imagine I am going to black out.
I follow Remus out of the dining hall while procuring a staff in which to bear myself upon: my body will not willingly support me, and I am in no position to have my legs give out from under me. I walk after him as a dog does his master and focus my gaze on his straightened back as I try to ease my steps into something smoother than what I am currently putting forth.
He leads me outside. The bright sunlight burns my eyes severely and I have to turn my sight to the ground in a hurry in order to see properly. I continue to follow the sound of his footsteps, considering the fact that my vision still has not cleared, and nearly run into him when he unexpectedly stops short.
I believe…that he has led me to an area in which appears to be broken off from the rest of the grounds. The shade of a willow tree enables me to look up from the dirt I had fixed my eyes upon, but from disgrace I turn my gaze toward somewhere behind his left shoulder. I shouldn't have even gone after him when he told me to do so. I should have just let him exterminate me in the dining room.
"I should…put an end to your life here and now. But…it is not right. Tell me…your side of the story. I will give you that much." His voice is strained unlike anything I have ever heard before. …I am afraid.
"…I don't know…what you want me to say to you. I…it wasn't…" My voice trembles to give off the exact amount of fear running in my veins at the moment.
"Tell me before I rip your throat out!" I doubt that his scream can be heard as far as the Dark Lord's house. I shouldn't be caring for stupid matters such as this!
He's going to kill me! …But I want him to kill me.
I don't want to die! …I deserve death.
Your self-pity is revolting.
He grasps me by the front of my robes and I am lifted a good few feet off the ground. I know he can feel me shaking in his grip and I flinch as he his fingers dig into the flesh and nearly break through.
"…Dumbledore cast…the Imperious on him or something! I don't know what he did! Ah-!" His grip tightens sharply and he slaps me across the face viciously, letting me topple to the ground in a heap.
There is a rustling of fabric and he takes hold of my hair roughly, turning my head to him. I hear myself give a weak whimper as he backhands me once more. "Enough with your lies! I am not letting you live to hear you spew rubbish. Tell the truth!"
"It is the truth…! Ah-Ow! Sirius…attacked me! He wore the form of Dumbledore and then… assaulted me! He was most likely under the Polyjuice; how else could he have-! I didn't know! I should have though! What kind of bastard doesn't…even recognize…oh god…" I start to cry again, pitiful tears not worth the time of anyone. "It's all my fault! Remus, kill me! Kill me before I cause you anymore harm!"
I let myself become dead in his grip, expecting entirely for him to do just as he said he would. But when his grip leaves me, and I am left alone without warning, I cannot help but be at a loss and terrified. But then I hear the broken sound of crying.
I dare to open my own eyes and make out the hunched form of my godfather's lover pressed against the tree. I carefully rise to my feet and hobble over to him as well as I can: I am still shaking.
My voice is soft. "……Remi?" I venture in a whisper, drawing on the affectionate name for him that I used a long time ago; maybe when I was still happy. I gently touch him on the shoulder though completely expecting him to strike me back. He turns slightly, defeated, and I pull him toward me with extensive care in the gesture. His arms go around my middle and he clutches at my upper back.
I pull him closer to me out of no reason than to be closer to the last remnant of my godfather's legacy and hear him give a weak moan of grief into my robes in response. I know that if I leave him be he'll kill himself.
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I've been lying in the bath for a matter of hours, during which I had to reheat the water twice. No one's come to bother me, and I am currently toying with the idea of drowning myself: drowning to death is classic; it just has a certain allure. But all in all, I can't: I'm just too weak to make myself die now.
"How long have you been there?"
"How long have you been standing there?" I ask in return. I lazily blow at the water and watch it ripple like something I have seen before.
"About twenty minutes or so. What about you?"
"…Three and a half hours." I reply casually.
"I think you should get out of the tub." He says slowly after a few seconds.
I think he should leave before I lash out on him. I am in no disposition to entertain his theories. "I think you should shut your mouth."
"What happened to your face?"
"What ever do you mean?" I ask quietly.
"The side of your face is red…like someone slapped you." The veiled question is not subtle; he should know that.
"No one touched me."
"Of course not. Because you would tell me if anyone ever hurt you, wouldn't you?" His voice is curiously cutting.
"What are you trying to say?" I know exactly what he is implying. And again, my speculation that he cannot connect with me on matters such as family death is reaffirmed from his word choice.
"Who did this to you?"
"Did what? I have no idea what you are trying to say. Honestly, if you stopped talking in riddles, I believe I could understand you much better," I respond quite innocently.
"Stop your lies."
"How could I be lying when you have not asked me anything?" He really has no understanding. And no one can comfort me; anyone that could is either incapacitated or…dead.
I turn my head toward him and he recoils violently as if struck. I blink up at him and Voldemort exhales forcefully and takes an unsteady step backward. Observing him distantly, I watch as he takes a sharp hold of the doorframe and clings to it almost as if it is his last lifeline in the entire world.
"I am beside myself at the moment. I suggest you leave before I hurt you in manner that I will later regret."
His voice is low and quavers in repressed emotions. "N-no."
"Fine…! But I will do as I please in my own time." I turn away and hear him slide to the tiled floor with a soft thump. What could he have seen in me to make him so frightened of myself? …I don't care.
"…Why are you angry with me?"
I sit up a little in the tub to glance at him in surprise. "Excuse me?"
"Why are you angry with me? I can't help the fact the fact that I don't understand your pain, but I want to know why you are irritated with me."
"I am not angry with you."
"…Yes, you are. When you looked at me just now, you looked as if you wanted to kill me." His voice is nothing above a murmur.
I sink back into the bathtub so the only thing above water is my head. "I'm…unwell." I whisper quietly.
"…I know."
"I don't want your help. …You don't understand anything about this."
"I'll try…to help you." He says softly and I realize that he's stood again and is right next to me. He places a hand in my damp hair and I sink further into the water out of embarrassment. …I should have trusted him.
"Will you please remove yourself from the water? It is not good to remain submerged for an extended amount of time; I don't want you to get ill."
"…Help me up?"
"Of course." He takes me under the arms and pulls me easily out of the water to a standing position. I step from the tub carefully and he wraps me around the shoulders into a large, soft towel that covers me to a point somewhere after my knees. I immediately begin to shiver; the room is cold and he only thing keeping me warm was the water.
"Dress and I'll light a fire. This house is farther north than the other one is."
He leads me into the bedroom and I wander off to the closet though I can only open it after using both arms. After an extensive amount of searching and becoming submerged into the closet, I begin to find my clothes. Damn the wardrobe is deep.
I quickly pull on socks, underwear and a pair of sweatpants and am in the process of putting a T-shirt on when he comes up behind me and removes the shirt from my hands. I turn in inquiry, but he reaches behind me and pulls a different garment from the wardrobe.
"This is better." He pulls the long sleeve shirt over my head and I give a muffled sound of protest but stick my arms through the sleeves at any rate. "Much better. And it even matches your eyes."
I frown faintly and dry my hair with the towel I deserted moments ago. In the course of this action, he pulls me away from the closet and toward him. When I feel a sudden warmth, I would have to guess the fireplace: the towel is covering my head.
He pulls the towel from my head and discards it on the opposite chair beside the one he is occupying. The Dark Lord tugs me into his lap and I relax next to him, curling up against his chest. I am exhausted out of imagination. We lapse into a calm silence.
"……………He was buried yesterday."
"…Oh." Pain flares and strikes into my soul viciously and it is a taxing measure to restrain my sudden onslaught of tears. "…When I was sleeping?" I am grateful that I didn't have to go to his funeral…I know that it seems selfish to think in this manner… but…I don't think I could not bear to see him being lowered…into the ground…
"…Yes. I did not think it would be wise to wake you." He pauses and his voice drops even further. "I had him buried next to your parents in Godric's Hollow. …I thought…that you would maybe…like that…"
"…Thank you." As I move slightly in order to kiss him on the cheek, he brushes away my tears gently and replaces the necklace that I thought I lost forever.
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A.O.T.I.F.: And I'm back from spring break! Honestly, the beach is so dirty. That's why it is so much better to go abroad. Ugh and those nasty seagulls, stealing right from your very hands!
Thank you for all the reviews, I really appreciate it!
Hm…this chapter turned out rather…odd. Ah no worries, I knew Dumbledore was not going to make an appearance after all the crud going on.
There may be some anger with the fact that Sirius didn't have a proper funeral Harry in attendance, etc. Very depressing and all but think about logically, could it really have happened with 1. Sirius being wanted for mass murder, 2. Harry being wanted, 3. Voldemort part of a manhunt, 4. everybody injured…must I go on?
Very sad stuff going on (sighs), but it couldn't be helped. Yes, doggy boy went bye-bye. (hopefully) Anyone cry? (snorts) I doubt it. This story isn't too sappy for the most part…
That scene in which Harry apparently hallucinated was strange…
O-kay. Here's the next chapter possibility (who am I kidding, it will be the next chapter's content): finally, the encounter we've all been eagerly anticipating: the Dark, with Harry as the representative (and Voldemort) versus the Light, with Dumbledore as the representative. (dramatic pause) Aw, forget it. Who's still reading at this point?
…Grades are coming out…and work from the last six weeks is coming back…I don't even want to think about it. That awful test is coming up in May as well…I might not update until I take it, sorry reviewers; I have to study.
Please review.
