Redemption Unsought
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
By Jewel
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters were created by JK Rowling and are copyrighted to their rightful owners. There is no copyright infringement intended.
Rated R for language and themes.
-?-
Your eyes still try to search for mine / But I look away- "Pitiful" by Blindside
Her screams are the only things that seem to fill his ears these days. He can't even escape to the highest towers in the Castle to evade her wild shrieks. Her insane babble.
All she does is scream until her voice is worn out, then she falls into a fitful sleep. Dreaming, reliving the fall of Hogwarts, she sobs. Against her raw throat her cries sound worse at night.
This is when he visits her.
After all the lights are extinguished, deep in the dungeons. After the other prisoners have succumbed to their own night terrors, he sweeps into the filthy holding cells.
By the dim light of his wand she looks worse each day. She doesn't touch the food sent to her. Doesn't make use of the fresh water provided each day. Her beautiful, dark skin is hidden beneath weeks' worth of dirt.
Her robes are tattered, of course. Whether it was inflicted on her, or of her own doing, he doesn't want to know. He thinks, secretly, that she's done this herself. If she's to play the part of the tortured victim, the martyred witch, why not look the part?
He can't linger too long near her cell. Others might awake. She might awake.
She might open those bewitching eyes of her, once full of flashing anger, now only filled with madness. Those eyes might stare at him. Through him. If she sees anything besides the gruesome images in her head, he doesn't know.
But those eyes, he can't stand to have those eyes level at him.
This is why he no longer comes to see her during the day.
Because at first, she wouldn't scream. She would toss her head, send her frayed braids flying, and stare into his own haunted eyes.
Then, after the first few weeks, all she did was scream. Even the other prisoners complained about it.
This night, he's almost gone. His wand is lowered, his back is turned, and he senses her awakening. Hears the quiet rustle of her robe as she moves.
He closes his eyes are her wailing starts again.
-?-
Why is she staring at him? He wonders. What does she want?
Hours tick by, the spells and curses worsen. She doesn't say anything.
Of course she doesn't crack. She's a Gryffindor. Far be it from them to try to save their own life.
She doesn't do anything but stare at him. Challengingly at first. Then after a week, pleadingly.
He knows what she wants. But why does she think he can give it to her?
She looks at him reproachfully. That night when he shoves her into her tiny cell, he can see the accusation in her brown eyes.
What do you want from me? He wants to scream. I can't do anything!
He turns away from her, without a word. In her cell she slums against the dirty wall, and stares quietly at the bars.
-?-
I'm weak! He wants to tell her. Wants to shout at her. Doesn't she realize? Doesn't she know by now?
Don't look at me like that, this isn't my doing! He wants to rage.
Another Death Eater steps up to continue to torture. Of course he looks away. He doesn't want to see this.
-?-
Fuck you! He wants to tell her. I gave you a chance! I told you what would happen!
This is the first night she starts to scream.
Soundlessly at first. Just shrieks of agony, he thinks.
After a few hours he begins to wonder if they've damaged her mind already.
Then the real madness sets in.
Weeks tick by.
Nothing they do to her works. Not even occulemncy can penetrate her torn mind.
She's beyond them now.
-?-
He paces back and forth in his small chamber. The sky is now turning light outside. Off in the distance he can see the vague color of the dark mark hanging over Hogsmeade.
He's waiting for the final news.
It never comes, of course.
Everyone is busy staving off the end of their reign. Who cares about one broken witch?
-?-
He creeps in the dungeons that night.
It's earlier than usual. Some prisoners are still awake.
Her cell is empty. Of course it is.
He closes his eyes. He doesn't want to know what happened. But he already does.
-?-
In the Great Hall the others are rejoicing. This has been a night of victory for them. Another day of living. Another day safely encamped in the enemy's old stronghold.
He doesn't have to ask what happens. It's in the hooded looks some of his friends give him. It's in the carefully worded question of his master.
He doesn't care. Really, he doesn't.
It's in the smile he gives his lord. The curse he throws on a bound muggle.
-?-
What did you expect? He wants to howl.
All he is burns on the tattoo branded into his arm. All he'll ever be is in the wild screams she use to throw at him.
-END-