A/N: Thanks to Gretchy Stretchy for taking up her usual post as "omega reader" ; )
Disclaimer: I take no ownership of the amazing, complex charachter that is Harry Potter, nor any other charachter or anything at all, for that matter, having to deal with JKR's fantastic series.
Numb
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
Become so tired
So much more aware
-Numb, Linkin Park
It's like I have no saturation point.
Every year, my life becomes more of a Hell. It can't get any worse, I tell myself.
But then it does.
And I keep thinking that ... I don't know- that I'll just stop feeling eventually. That there's only so much pain I can hold, that someday, I'll just get pushed too far and I won't feel the pain anymore.
But I always do.
My first year, after that second encounter with Voldemort, I was left little more than enlightened, really. I'll admit it- I was scared at the time. Dumbledore had left me with far more questions than answers, and all I really understood about the big picture of the matter could be summed up in two things: first, that Voldemort was most definitely neither dead nor happy to see me, and second, that I was going to have to deal with things relating to the first realization again. It was the beginning of what I didn't realize at the time would be regular nightmares from then to well past what was, for me then, the foreseeable future.
Second was much the same- looking back, I can't really see why I was still so anxious about my battle with Tom Riddle and the basilisk after it was over. During the year... that I still understand. Watching people being frozen, one at a time, searching constantly to solve the mysteries of who was the Heir and what was going on. Then Hermione got frozen, and Ron and I thought we were doomed. But she'd left us one more clue! - She's impossibly brilliant; it's ridiculous – and we got down there in the very nick of time.
To save Ginny.
God... Ginny.
Do not get me started on her.
Suffice it to say that... I spend more time with her now, every day than I did my first five years of school combined, and that I...
I think – I think that I love her.
But I'm not going to tell her, because I cannot stand to see anyone else get hurt just because they are associated with me. It'll be over soon, anyway...
After Sirius escaped away with Buckbeak third year, I didn't think I could feel much worse. Mind you, I had just let Peter Pettigrew escape, gotten my soul nearly sucked out by Dementors, and then gone back in time to "save" my Godfather, which resulted in little more than him leaving to go hide somewhere else besides around Hogwarts. I thought things were pretty rough.
I'm not sure if it's possible to underestimate things anymore than I did then.
When I returned from the graveyard end of fourth term, I knew I was getting close to some sort of breaking point. That was when I first knew I couldn't take much more, and after it was all over, when Mrs. Weasley hugged me like that, that was all it took.
I bawled - albeit, silently. I cried my bloody eyes out, though.
That summer, I did crack. I don't think anybody really expected it to come out the way it did; I didn't. I was torn enough as it was, and then... and then they just left me there. Dumped me at the Dursleys to sit and wait, while everyone else was together. I had already been through so much, yet it seemed like they wouldn't say nor do a damn thing. So I just stayed there and wound myself up with some help from everyone's completely useless letters until I finally got out and nearly tore my own stupid throat from yelling all the time. I spent the entire year being slowly deprived of everything that mattered to me.
And then they delt the final punch.
I should've listened to Hermione. I know that fact applies to almost every mistake in the entire world I or anyone else has ever said, written, or done but this – well, 'especially''s not a good enough word. I should've learned Occlumency, I should've been patient... I should've, I should've, I should've.
And no matter what he says, I as good as killed him, but, like Dumbledore, I won't claim complete responsibility. I wasn't the one who hexed Sirius through the curtain, after all.
But I'll kill the person who did.
The person who led me straight to Voldemort.
It's odd. Almost every day I find myself praying that Ginny's possession, or anyone's experiences ever, for that matter, were nothing like mine. It is pain beyond pain - horror past comprehension. Probably the first time I truly wished for death. I almost got it, too.
And even then, after everything, all the guilt, all the pain, all the emptiness-
There was more.
That was when I shattered. Yes, I had cracked earlier, but it had only turned me into a bloody arse-wipe for a year. This was when I shattered along the deep cracks left from everything that had already happened.
And there was still the prophecy. That piece of shit rules my life now, assuming you want to call it a life.
Sure, there are the occasional good days: Joking with Ron, sneaking about the castle with Ginny, poking fun at Hermione about her seven NEWT-level classes. Talking late into the night in the Room of Requirement with Neville, Luna, and the others...but on the whole...it just seems like... almost everything is gone. And what's still here, I can't stand to see hurt by my presence anymore.
I want to die. Yes, I said it – I want to die: it's the truth, I know it is. I don't want to do this anymore; I can't. I can't handle being me, Harry. I can't be Harry Potter. Not the Harry Potter most people seem to expect, anyway. So I just want to end it all...
But I can't. I'm not quite that damn selfish.
Because...because what I want doesn't really matter. Not anymore. I don't want to exist, but I have to. I have to do it for everyone else. Everyone who, for some unknown reason, cares about me. Everyone who depends on me; everybody who does want to live. Just... everybody. Well, almost everybody.
The people left out of this 'almost' will still have to deal with me, though. Or, if not me, then an Auror, or someone from the Order, or Dumbledore, or even a member of the DA.
At least I'm not alone...
Completely.
Because when it comes down to it, it's just him and me, seeing as I'm practically his other bloody half.
It seems so damn insane at first. I'm part of him; he's part of me. Every time he breaks me, it just builds me back up, even stronger than before, even closer to being as powerful as he. I've been broken and rebuilt for the last time; I'm ready, I'm there. I am Voldemort's equal. An alter ego of sorts. It's like we, together, are this – thing - that balances out everything else. But then, when I really think about it, it makes perfect sense. I can feel it. Feel him. Yeah, I'm that aware of my senses now. Occlumencey and Legilimency - try them some time.
We have to destroy each other, only I have to do the destroying. Otherwise...
Well, I'm not going to think about that.
But apparently, I've got something he doesn't - whatever the hell that is. It's not like I can bloody love him to death.
Let's just hope I figure it out.
A/N: If you read, please, please review, peoples. I appreciate it greatly.