Disclaimer: J.K.R. owns Harry Potter and co., not me (I wouldn't mind owning Sev though).  This story is slightly (basically bits of the plot ideas; just technical stuff) inspired by Minnionette's A Gutter Rat's Tale and Dauphin's Let History Repeat Itself.  Niamh O'Feir, Jardin, Mika Davids, Darcorn's, and anything you don't recognize belong to me.

Not Myself by Saerry Snape

Chapter 134 – Just Visiting

Five days after the Gauntlet first attached itself to Niamh, Harry was allowed to see her.  Dumbledore had told him not to go near her and not to tell her why.

But Niamh already knew that he was descended from the High Elves.

Of course, Dumbledore didn't know that.  After all, no one could know everything that went on in the castle.

So Harry went to see Niamh.  Madam Pomfrey had placed her in one of the two private rooms that were used for seriously injured patients and she let him in.

Niamh was sitting up in bed, her face turned towards the window, when Harry crept in.  The Gauntlet lay across her lap, her other hand resting atop its rune encrusted surface.

"Ni?"

Niamh blinked and turned, a sudden smile breaking across her sullen face.

"Harry!"

Harry gently closed the door and leaned against it, asking, "'Ow are ye?"

"Fine," replied Niamh.  "Except for…"

She held up the Gauntlet and wiggled its clawed fingers.

"Yeh," said Harry softly.

"Harry…why are you staying over there?  Was I not supposed to open that box?"

"Ni…"

"Are you angry at me?"

"Ni…"

"I hope you're not."

"NI!"

"What?" asked Niamh, blinking owlishly at him.

Harry sighed and replied, "I's called tha Gauntlet o' Aerilsed.  Tha 'igh Elves created I'."

Niamh's mouth fell open in a small 'o' of surprise.

"High Elves?  Your High Elves?  The one's your descended from?"

"Tha'd be them."

"Um…  So, what does it do?"

Part of Dumbledore's instructions flashed through Harry mind at that question.

"Do not, under any circumstances, tell her that the Gauntlet is draining her life away."

I have to, though Harry.

"Have to what?" asked Niamh.

Harry blinked and stared at her.  He'd spoken out loud?

"Have to what, Harry?" asked Niamh again.

"Er…"

"Harry."

I have to tell her! Screamed Harry in his head.  I can't let her not know that that thing is killing her!

Dumbledore's words echoed in his head again and he shoved them away.  There was a soft pop and he realized that the Headmaster had placed a spell on him.

He hadn't wanted Niamh to know that the Gauntlet was killing her!

But she deserved to know.

Didn't she?

Whilst Harry's inner turmoil went on, Niamh was looking worriedly at her friend.

"Harry?" she queried after a moment.

Brilliant green eyes met hers and Niamh was suddenly hit by a vision.

She saw Harry, not much older than he was now, standing in a cemetery.  He was wearing black robes and she could see tears on his cheeks through his curtain of dark hair.

Suddenly he dropped to his knees and began to beat on a freshly covered grave.  His shoulders shook as he let out a cry of anguish that made Niamh's heart twist.

She'd never heard anything like it come from her friend before.

He'd always been so strong.  Even when Tyls had died.

"Why!" he screamed, his Cockney accent barely perceptible in his voice.  "Why'd it have to be you!  It should have been ME!"

He pounded on the grave again and howled, "You shouldn't be dead!"

A dark figure crossed Niamh's vision and she jerked before realizing that it was Severus.  He walked over to his son and knelt down beside him, gently pulling him away from the grave.  Harry turned with a vicious look on his face and began to pound on the older man's chest.

"NO!  I won't go!  I WON'T LEAVE HER!"

"Harry…" whispered Severus.  "We have to go."

"NO!"

Severus pulled his son close, ignoring the pounding on his chest.  After a few moments, Harry's efforts ceased and he broke down in his father's arms, his fingers clenched in the man's cloak.

"She…sh-shouldn't…be…d-dead."

"I know," whispered Severus.

"Why'd…th-this…have…t-to…happen?" sobbed Harry.  "Why did she h-have to die?"

"I don't know."

Harry sniffled and whispered, "I wanna go home."

"To Hogwarts?"

"No," hissed Harry.  "HOME.  To the cottage."

"All right.  We'll go home."

The two Snape's pulled themselves to their feet and began to walk away.  Severus held his son close whilst Harry rested his head on his father's shoulder.  Niamh watched them as they left.

"Da?" she heard Harry ask.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Why couldn't it have been me?"

Severus' arm tightened about his son's shoulder and he replied, "Don't think about that."

Harry's head bowed and Niamh heard him whisper, "I can't help it."

"I know," whispered Severus.  "I know…"

They were gone then.  Niamh blinked after them then found herself turning around.  She didn't want to.

She already knew what she would see.

Only the death of one person would cause her best friend such anguish.

Only one person's death could cause him to cry.

Her own.

The tombstone set at the head of the fresh grave read:

NIAMH DEIRDRE O'FEIR

"Ni"

1980 – 1998

"The best of friends and the most loyal.

I'm glad I knew her and could call her mine.

Love you, Ni.  Always."

- HARRY

"Oh God," breathed Niamh.

She was back then, in that moment.  Her ears were ringing and she could hear Harry calling her name.

"Ni?  Ni, answer me!  NI!"

"Oh God," breathed Niamh again.  The vision raced through her head and she began to cry.

At the door, Harry started to rush to her side but held himself back.  He couldn't comfort her.  He couldn't do anything but stand there and watch his best friend cry.

It made him angry.

Angry at Dumbledore, angry at the creators of the Gauntlet, angry at whoever had tried to send it to him.

It HAD been to him.  HE'D been the one who was supposed to wear the Gauntlet.  Not Niamh.  Not his best friend.  Not the girl he loved.

What? thought Harry in sudden surprise.  Love?

He…loved…Niamh?

For how long?  How long had he been clueless to his feelings for his friend?

Better yet, did she know?

"Ni," he breathed, taking a step towards her.

"Its killing me, isn't it?" whispered Niamh, lifting her head.  Tears streaks her cheeks silver and Harry almost went to hug her.

"Yeh," he replied.  "'Ow…?"

"I'm a somewhat Seer," replied Niamh in a choked voice.  "I…I just saw my own grave."

"Slytherin's serpent…Ni…"

"And you," she continued, "you were there."

"Ah wou'," said Harry.

"Come here," whispered Niamh.

Harry frowned and said, "Ni…  Ah can't.  If Ah go near tha, it'll attach i'self ter me."

"Come on my left side.  I have something to show you."

Harry frowned and glanced at the door before he walked around the bed.  Niamh shifted the Gauntlet to hang off the side of the bed.

But Harry could feel its dark tendrils pulling at him.  He had figured out that it was the Gauntlet that had made him sick when he'd found Niamh.  It couldn't have been anything else.

"Wha' are ye…"

Harry was cut off as Niamh reached out to touch his forehead.  Her fingertips landed on his scar and he was nearly thrown backwards as the vision she had had went through in mind.  He saw it all in his mind's eye and when it was over, it left him gasping on the floor.

"My Goh…"

"I know," sniffled Niamh.

"Ni," began Harry, pulling himself to his feet.  "Ni, we'll fin' a way ter keep tha from happenin'.  Ah swear we will."

Niamh smiled and reached out her hand.  She cupped his cheek in her palm, her head tilted slightly to the side.  A small, sad smile tugged at her lips.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," she whispered.

Harry reached up and pulled her hand away from his face.  He clasped it in his own and stared deep into her eyes.

"Ah will keep this one.  Ah'm na gonna le' ye die.  Na now, na ever."

"Harry…"

"No," snapped Harry, cutting her off.  "Yer na gonna die.  Ah woan le' ye.  Ye did'na give up on me when Ah was i' me coma an' Ah'm na gonna give up on ye.  An' doan ye give up either."

Niamh smiled, her spirits lifting slightly at her friend's words.

"I'll try."

"Doan try.  Do."

He looked at his watch and cursed.

"Ah've goh ter go.  Transfiguration's abou' ter start.  Will ye be alrigh'?"

"Fine," breathed Niamh.

Harry frowned and said, "Ah'll bring ye somethin' later.  Some o' me books."

"Okay.  You'd better go."

"Yeh.  Ah'll see ye later."

Niamh nodded and breathed, "Bye."

Harry just smiled and squeezed her hand before he left the room.  As soon as he was gone, Niamh collapsed against her pillow, her heart pounding in her chest.

Even through Harry's heart-felt promise she was afraid.  Afraid that this Gauntlet would kill her, as it had in her vision.

And then that boy she'd seen, that little boy with her hair and those brilliant sea-green eyes…  That little boy that she'd seen hugging Harry would never be real.

Tears trickled down her cheeks at the thought.

Through her grief, she didn't sense Harry's own.  He was still there, slumped against the closed door, his own cheeks stained with tears.