The Longing
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize as JKR's.
Opening Comments: Well, here it is, Chapter 2! Thanks everyone for your reviews!
Chapter 2: The Continuing Numbness
Harry woke up the next morning feeling as terrible as he ever did. He didn't even bother to get up. He just continued to lay there. He stared up at the ceiling. He didn't even look up when his aunt walked in and informed him that he would be de-weeding the garden, and cleaning the gutters. He merely grunted his response and continued staring at the ceiling.
He finally got up when the broken record started up again. He put on another set of overly large clothes, put the CD player in his pocket, and went outside to do his chores.
It was excruciatingly hot in the sun, but Harry didn't care. He listened to the music, this time angry alternative, and did his chores without complaint.
Usually, Harry hated doing chores, but now, when he was working, he could forget about how he had gotten the closest thing he had ever had to a father killed. He didn't think about how he had put all of his friends in danger, and he didn't think about how he had lost a huge part of himself that night when Sirius fell behind the veil.
He didn't stop for a lunch break when he finished with the lawn. He merely asked for a drink of water, and set back outside to work on the gutters. He took extra long working on them because he didn't want to go back inside and face the memories that came with the moments when he had nothing to do.
Harry wiped his brow, and stopped a moment to change CDs. As he was doing this, he heard a pop somewhere in the distance. He figured someone from the Order had just switched shifts. He merely shrugged and went back to cleaning the gutters.
When he finally finished, it was dinnertime, and once again, his aunt insisted that he eat something. So, he hurriedly ate something, and then went up to take a shower. (This was partially insisted upon by his relatives, as he had been out in the hot sun all day.)
Before he got in the shower, Harry looked at the cuts he had made the day before. He remembered how clean he had felt after he had made them. He pulled the knife out of his pants pocket, and made three more cuts, this time on his other arm. Being careful not to drip blood on the floor, he quickly got in the shower.
Once again, the water made his cuts burn, but Harry didn't care. He hurriedly took a shower, and then covered his new cuts with a gauze bandage. He went into his room, and did his most commonly used pastime: stare at the ceiling.
Harry shifted out of all thought for the first time in quite a long time. All he thought about was counting the dots on his ceiling. He didn't think about anything else. He couldn't hear anything else. He didn't feel hardly anything at all.
Harry had never known numbness like this. He liked it. He didn't think about Sirius' death. He didn't think about Hogwarts, or his friends, or the Order of the Phoenix. In his new state of mind, none of that existed. All that existed was counting all the dots on the ceiling. That was all that mattered.
One morning, or night, he wasn't quite sure, Harry heard voices. He recognized them, but couldn't remember from where. Harry couldn't remember much of anything, except his short trips to the bathroom every now and then. (The only thing he could really feel during his solace was those moments when he would need to relieve himself.)
When Harry heard those voices, he noticed they were close, yet far away. He didn't really care. All he really cared about were all the little dots on his ceiling. He only caught glimpses of what they were saying:
"…I don't ruddy know what is wrong with him.'
"…Should we do something?"
"…Look at all the ruddy owls!"
That was all he ever really noticed. Of course, he didn't really care. Harry never knew how much time went by. He did notice that on his trips to the bathroom, he would see more and more cuts on his arms. He also saw his reflection from time to time. He was very pale, and deathly skinny, but he didn't care.
All that mattered to Harry James Potter was counting all the little dots on the ceiling. It mattered more than anything in the entire world. He couldn't feel, he couldn't think, and he couldn't really hear. He was oblivious to everything but the dots.
One day, though, during one of his longer periods of dot-counting, Harry vaguely felt someone gently slapping his face and shaking him. He thought he heard a familiar, yet unfamiliar, voice calling his name. But he couldn't stop now. He had a lot more dots to count. But the shaking persisted, and his concentration started to break. He could clearly hear someone calling his name.
"HARRY! HARRY! COME ON!"
"What do you think is wrong with him?"
"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT RIGHT NOW! I JUST WANT HIM TO BLOODY LOOK AT ME! HARRY!"
Pulling slowly out of his stupor, Harry looked into the eyes of an extremely worried person. He knew this person. Then it dawned on him.
"Remus?" he asked.
"Thank Merlin. What happened, Harry?"
"What do you mean?"
"What? Do you know what I am talking about?"
"No. Not really. Wait…" Then it dawned on him. He had been counting ceiling dots, and cutting himself, and starving himself. He glanced at his arms and saw that they were, thankfully, covered by his sleeves. He let out an audible sigh of relief.
"Harry, what's going on? And don't you dare lie to me! You haven't been answering our letters! The members of the Order say they haven't seen you outside in over a week! Everyone thought you were dead, and Moody about came here to hex your aunt and uncle to pieces."
"What do you want me to say? I don't know what happened. All I know is that one day I came in here after taking a shower, and I just stared up at the ceiling trying to forget everything. It was weird. I started counting the ceiling dots, and I felt this immense weight lift. I didn't think of anything but those dots. I was numb to everything. It was…it was a…relief."
"Harry, everyone has been worried sick about you. Your friends have nearly gone mad with worry. I could hardly keep my own head thinking that you were dead. I couldn't bear to lose you too, you know."
"I'm sorry, Remus. But, I felt so wonderful. Well, I guess I didn't feel wonderful, but that's just the thing! I didn't feel anything. I felt free of everything."
Harry looked up at the man who was one of his parents' best friends, and the only true marauder left. The young werewolf was sad, and it was painfully evident in his eyes. Harry hated him hurting. He hated everything hurting. He hated it all. He had to do something. He had to cut. It was the only other way to get rid of the filth that he was feeling. He walked out of the room without an explanation and went into the bathroom.
His arms were already covered with many cuts, and Harry didn't remember making them, but he didn't really care. All that mattered to him now was making more. He had made two more cuts before Remus burst in and took the knife from him.
"HARRY WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU BLOODY THINK YOU ARE DOING?" Remus shouted this, not out of fury, but out of concern.
Harry merely looked up from the blood and simply said, "I'm getting rid of the filth."
Remus bent down so that he could look up in the young boy's eyes. Harry blankly looked back. He didn't really know what was going on with him. All he knew is that his life sucked. Suddenly, he wanted it to end. He wanted to be with his family. He didn't care what Voldemort did with the world because he, Harry, wouldn't be there to have to deal with it. Harry stood up to leave.
Remus, his reflexes much faster, grabbed Harry and held onto him. He wouldn't let go, no matter how much Harry struggled. It wasn't much of a struggle, though because Harry's body was weak and tired. In fact, Harry was so weak that he merely collapsed. He went into a darkness that was welcome and frightening at the same time.
When Harry woke, he saw that Remus wasn't the only person in the room. Mad-Eye Moody, Severus Snape, and Albus Dumbledore himself were all in his room as well. They were all talking in a corner in hushed voices.
Dumbledore's eyes were no longer twinkling, but were filled with a sense of sorrow so unbearable, that it looked as though the aged wizard would collapse from the weight. It hurt Harry to look at the man that he had always looked to as his mentor.
Mad-Eye Moody's mood was unreadable in his scarred face, but he seemed to be worried. He was talking to Remus, whose eyes were almost as vacant as Harry's, and his face was red as though he had been crying.
What Harry saw on Snape's face was nothing more than alarming. The professor had a look of shock, terror, sadness, anger, and pure loathing all in his eyes. The loathing and anger were not new to Harry, but the other emotions were.
Dumbledore must have noticed that Harry was awake because he looked at him with worry. Harry gently sat up. All his joints and muscles ached.
Noticing his movement, Remus went and sat beside him, and put an arm around him as though protecting him. The rest had chairs conjured up for them by Dumbledore, and they sat warily around his bed.
"Well, Harry, I must say that you have had us all deathly worried about you," said Dumbledore solemnly.
"I'm sorry, sir."
"I almost knocked over my jar of lemon drops when Remus came to me with news about you."
"I'm sorry, sir."
"Harry, I know that Sirius' death has been immensely hard on you, but slowly letting yourself slip away is not the answer. There is so much you have you live for."
"Yea, right," spat Harry bitterly. "I have nothing to live for, except being your precious key. Oh, wait. None of them probably know about that, do they sir?"
"What are you talking about, Potter?" said Snape.
"Well, sir," he spat even more bitterly at Snape, "Voldemort and I are in a little prophecy together. It's quite long-winded, but the gist of it is that either Voldemort dies, or I die. Convenient, eh? And seeing as how Professor Dumbledore cannot even defeat him, I am pretty much a lost cause. But you probably don't care if I die. You'll finally be rid of the one person that reminds you of my father the most. That's what you really want isn't it? You want to continue living your life with the memory of a childhood prank. You want revenge, don't you?"
"HARRY!" shouted everyone but Snape.
"NO! I'M NOT DONE! Isn't it true, sir? Isn't it? Well, I'm not going to let you or Voldemort kill me. No! I am going to do it myself, because then I can go and be with people that I hardly even know. And I hardly know them because of Voldemort, and that stupid bloody prophecy. Don't you worry, Professor Snape. I'll be gone soon. Then you and Voldemort will be happy."
Everyone had gasped when Harry said that he would kill himself, and now everyone sat in a stunned silence. Harry sat seething with an anger that he had been pushing down since he found out the truth about his parents. Remus' grip had tightened around Harry's shoulder, Mad-Eye Moody sat stunned, Dumbledore looked even sadder than he had before, but there was also a hint of anger in those once twinkling eyes. Snape sat looking at the student he had hated for years not with loathing, but with a resigned tiredness and sadness. He looked at his pupil for the first time with what appeared to be concern.
Finally, Remus spoke to Dumbledore, "Is it true? Is it really true that Harry must either kill Voldemort or die trying?"
"I'm afraid so, Remus. I'm afraid it is true."
"Albus, this young man needs some serious help," said Moody. "And I'm not talking about with magic. Look at him. All those slashes on his arms like he were a bloody Halloween jack-o-lantern. He's skinny as a skeleton, though I was assured that his aunt and uncle had nothing to do with this."
"I know the kind of help that Harry needs, Alastor. But I doubt he will accept it."
"Well," snapped Remus, "I'm going to help him whether or not he likes it. I am not about to lose the last person who means more than the world to me."
"I don't want anyone's help," snapped Harry so venomously that it made even Snape jump.
"I'm afraid, Harry," said Remus sternly, "that you are going to get my help whether you want it or not."
"Potter," said Snape, "I don't want you dead. I know you think that, but I don't."
"Whatever. You practically tossed me out of your office when you caught me in your penseive. You wouldn't even let me give you an explanation or an apology. You know, I am not my father. Many things about us may be similar, but I am not him. No one could ever be him. I am so sick of you insulting me, and making my life an even bigger Hell than has been without you. I don't need you to help make my life miserable. SO JUST DROP YOUR BLOODY ACT!"
"Harry, normally I would firmly suggest that you not speak that way to a professor, but I think that this will help you. It is about time that you and Professor Snape sorted out your differences," said Dumbledore kindly.
"Albus," said Remus, I would really like a few moments alone with Harry before the 'peace talkings' between Harry and Severus commence. Please."
"Certainly, Remus. I must go downstairs and await the arrival of the Dursleys." And with that, everyone left the room, leaving Harry and Remus alone.
"Harry," he began, "I know you miss Sirius. I miss him too. I miss him more than anything. He was my best friend, and now he is gone. I refuse to lose you too. You are all that I have left. Whether you want my help or not, you will be receiving it. I can be quite stubborn. So you will just have to live with it."
Harry started to say something, but couldn't. He suddenly burst into tears. He sobbed into Remus' shoulder, and Remus put an arm around him. Harry's whole body heaved with the weight of his tears. The tears wouldn't stop coming, but Harry didn't care. He just sat and cried into the werewolf's shoulder, grieving over everything he had lost and was likely to lose.
He finally stopped crying. When he did, he felt, actually, even worse. He felt like the baby that everyone was treating him like. He hated himself, if it is possible, even worse. He was so angry with himself for falling apart, for showing people his weaknesses. And he hated himself for having people care about him. It was all too much.
He wanted the numbness to come back. He didn't want to feel. He didn't want to miss Sirius like he did now. He didn't want to care about anyone because he knew in his heart that they too would get hurt, and possibly die. Everyone he had ever cared about died.
Maybe, he thought, that is why the Dursleys have lived so long. It all hurt him so much. He didn't want to see the people he cared for die. He refused to let that happen.
He pushed himself away from Remus and stood up. He almost fell over because he was so weak, so he sat on the edge of the bed. He knew what he had to do, but it was hard for him to do it. Remus wanted to help him, as did Dumbledore and a lot of the other members of the Order. His friends wanted to help him. He was cared about, and it was scary. No one could care about him, and he couldn't care about them. That was the way it had to be.
"Remus," Harry said, "could you call the others back in? I need to tell you all something."
Remus looked at him oddly, but said, "Sure. I'll be right back."
Harry watched the werewolf walk out the door. He soon came back with everyone. Professor Snape, Harry noticed, was reluctant to come in. When everyone was seated, Harry looked at them all in turn.
The only person he knew he could say goodbye to was Professor Snape. They hated each other, and it that would make it easy to say goodbye to him. But, then again, maybe he would miss the professor. He couldn't explain why, but he thought he might.
"Everyone," Harry began, "I know that you all care about me, and that you want to help me. I appreciate this, more than you will ever know. But…but I can't let you all help me. I have to do this on my own. Everyone that I have ever cared about has only gotten hurt, and killed. I'm not about to put the rest of your lives in danger. Don't start, Remus." Remus had begun to say something. "This is my decision. I have to do this alone. Even the prophecy says that. I don't want any of you to get hurt or die just because of me. So, I just want to be left alone. I'm sorry if this hurts, but I am going to be left alone, and you can't stop me." Harry said this last bit with defiance. He was done. He looked around the room again. He looked at Remus and saw that the man had tears in his eyes, as did Dumbledore.
"Harry," said Dumbledore, "we are choosing to help you. You can't tell us what we can and cannot do. You may be the only one who can defeat Voldemort, but you do not have to journey down that road alone. The world is nothing without friends. We all want to help you, and that is what we are going to do."
"With all due respect, sir, I can't have anyone helping me. I don't want any of you to die because of me."
"We are all willing to die for you, Harry," said Remus.
"Well, I don't want you to. If any of you, even you Professor Snape, died for me, I would die all over again. You see, I'm not afraid to die because I feel as though I am already dead. But if any of you died, I would die all over again, then I most definitely would kill myself, and Voldemort would rule."
"Harry, we are going to help you. That is final. Now, I believe that you and Professor Snape have some things to discuss, so the rest of us will wait downstairs."
Harry was about to say something, but he silenced himself. Albus Dumbledore can be quite stubborn sometimes, he thought to himself. As he got up to leave, Remus squeezed Harry's shoulder, and then left with the others, leaving Harry alone with Professor Severus Snape.