Title: Whisper of a Dance Forgotten

Author: Warwithheaven

Rating: R

Warnings: AU, character death, torture (in past), angst

Disclaimer: Not mine, nor will it ever be mine. All belong to Rowling and whoever else has there hands in it.

Chapter Two: Whisper of a Past Killing

Harry dove behind a row of seats as the creature spat another fireball towards him. Ever since the creature had broken through the window and tried to gut Harry with his claws, Harry had been shooting spells at it left and right, he even tried to levitate the bastard but he wouldn't leave the ground. The creature would hiss and his eyes would glow yellow every time a spell would hit him.

Ignoring the burn wounds he had, he got to his feet and crouched low.

"Haarrry, youu smmelll soo sweeet." the creature said, loudly inhaling to absorb Harry's smell. Harry crinkled his nose in confusion. 'Smell?' Harry sniffed his arm. 'I don't smell like anything other that soap from the bathroom and the coffee I spilt on myself.' Harry's eyes widen in comprehension. 'Shit, it can smell my magic. No wonder it didn't go after any of the other passengers, they were all Muggle.'

Harry watched the creature's shadow move across the row of seats parallel to where he was hiding. His brain went into overdrive as he thought of how he was going to get out of this mess. His magic didn't work, he didn't have any Muggle weapons, though honestly he doubted that they would work, and he probably couldn't run past it since it moved so fast. He was running out of options and there was no time left to decide what he could do.

Then suddenly it hit him like a ton of bricks, 'Apparate!' Harry hit his forehead with the palm of his hand sighing in his stupidity, and was about to escape when he heard three distinct pops. The creature stopped moving and turned away from Harry.

"What the fuck is that!" Harry heard from the front of the car. The voice sounded vaguely familiar to him but Harry chose not to dwell on it.

The creature breathed in deeply as if smelling the newcomers. "Mmm…Moorrre…" the creature growled.

There was a stream of multi-colored spells shot at the creature but the creature did not react to the onslaught of magic. It stood there with its eyes gleaming yellow and breathing deeply.

"Magic doesn't work!" Harry yelled, trying to be heard over all of the noise.

"What do you mean magic doesn't work?" Another familiar voice growled.

"Do you see anything happening to it?" Harry yelled, albeit a bit sarcastically.

Suddenly the stream of spells stopped and all was quiet. The creature stood still for a moment with its arms stretched out above him as if praying for a miracle with his head tilted back and his eyes closed in ecstasy.

Barely breathing, Harry tried to focus on Apparating but his nose started to itch. He scrunched up his nose trying his hardest not to sneeze—

"Acho."

His sneeze wasn't very loud but in the deafening silence it was deafening. The creature's head snap down with an audible pop and turned towards where Harry knelt behind the seats.

Harry looked around the seats and he let out an audible gasp of surprise.

Its eyes were no longer yellow but a brilliant red-orange. Its skin was more a peach color rather than the sickly white and the large black dots that had decorated most of its skin were smaller. Harry looked at the creature's face and could swear that it looked more human than before.

Suddenly the creature was kneeling right in front of Harry, its eyes locked with his. Frozen in shock, Harry did nothing as the creature leaned in and sniffed.

"Mmmm…" It put its face closer to Harry. Harry gagged at the horrid breath but he did not turn away. "Delic—"

There was a series of pops making the creature's attention to waver. After a moment the creature lunged at Harry…

But Harry was gone.

"I see seven years of supposed adulthood has not given you the slightest shred of common sense, Mr. Potter." A very masculine voice growled after they had Apparated and appeared in what looked like a pub. "Did it not occur to you that returning to that incorrigible Boy-Who-Lived persona might prove lethal?"

Immediately, Harry froze.

Now that voice was very familiar.

"What? No droll come-back, Potter?" He said.

Ignoring the pain of the burns he had all over his body, Harry slowly stood up and turned around to face the man who was still slightly clutching his shoulder. Harry came face to face with a chest covered by a black shirt. Looking farther up, Harry passed over frowning lips and a large nose, before catching dark obsidian eyes.

Harry was lying there, on cold white marble floors, bleeding to death from several wounds on his abdomen. He whole body was tingling from loss of blood and he felt like he was going to faint at any moment.

'So this is the end,' he'd thought to himself.

Slowly he looked around the once white room, which was now painted red with blood. There were numerous bodies surrounding Harry, some his friends and others his enemies, but the one that mattered the most was only a pile of ash two feet away from him.

Pulling his eyes away from the blood and gore around him Harry looked up at the ceiling. 'Now this is what I want my last memory to be of before I die.' Harry thought to himself as he gazed at the beautiful ceiling above him.

On the ceiling were paintings of angels, animals, wizards, and elves. There was not on spot of darkness on the ceiling, everything on it shouted peace, happiness, and good things. Harry smiled sadly at the painting. 'It is ironic isn't it?' He thought to himself. 'That one of the biggest battles of the past few centuries took place under one of the most peaceful and beautiful painting I have ever seen.' Harry looked down at the blood washed room. 'This room will never be the same again.'

Harry began to feel the pull of sleep on his mind and body. He tried to fight it but his strength was leaving him. 'At least it is finished.'

The blackness was closing in and Harry was lulled farther and farther away into its awaiting comfort.

Only to be shaken slightly by strong hands on his shoulders. Opening his eyes a little, so that could see who was bothering him, Harry tensed.

Snape knelt in front of him, his face unusually worried. Harry saw his lips move but he couldn't hear anything. He tried to tell Snape to go, to leave him alone to die in peace, but all that came out was groan of pain. Snape moved his hands to Harry's stomach and pushed slightly. Harry moaned quietly in anguish as he felt Snape's magic begin to heal him.

Locking green eyes with obsidian, Harry fell into darkness.

"Potter! Stop daydreaming. We need to get back to Hogwarts." A man said from Harry's right.

Harry turned slightly to see one Draco Malfoy scowling at him. Malfoy didn't look like he had changed at all in the past seven years, except for a scar that went from the middle of his forehead, over his nose, and to his opposite cheek, marring his once unblemished face.

"Beautiful aren't I, Potter?" Malfoy smirked.

For some reason Harry wasn't as panicked as he thought he would be while standing between his school rival and his potions professor. He didn't even feel the need to make any sarcastic remarks to either of them. Ignoring the other two men, Harry ran a hand through his hair and glanced around the pub. 'I'm in shock. That is why it hasn't set in yet.'

Malfoy gave Snape a slight confused look over the top of Harry's head. Snape shrugged.

"Come on, we need to get you to Pomfrey and Dumbledore. Moody went to the Ministry to tell the Minister about what happened so they can secure the area. He was in a right pissy mood." Malfoy said in all seriousness. Harry nodded, not really paying any attention, and began to walk towards a door that he had seen while observing the area.

"Wrong way, Potter. Does your memory of this place no longer exist in that infinitesimal brain of yours?" Snape growled as he crossed his arms and looked impatiently at Harry.

Surprised, he stopped and looked around the pub. He was in the Three Broomsticks, though it looked like Rosemerta had redecorated since he had left. Turning around and stuffing his hands in his jean pockets, he walked to the door. When he reached it he stopped and placed his hand on the old bronze doorknob.

'On the other side of this door is a place that I would have preferred not return to.' Harry thought to himself. 'There is no turning back after this. No escaping this life again.' Memories of his past began to resurface and doubt began to settle into his mind. 'I can't do this. I can't face them. I can't face all of them again,' Harry fingers turned white as he clasped harder onto the doorknob. 'Not after what happened afterwards, not after the kil—'

"Potter, we haven't got all day." Malfoy stated.

Trying to calm himself, Harry took a deep breath. "Why?"

There was a few moments of silence before Snape said, "Why what, Mr. Potter?"

Harry's whole body shook and the pain of the burns seemed to increase as he said, "Why am I here?" Harry let his head fall against the wood door in front of him. Snape and Malfoy exchanged looks. "Why are you here? Why did Dumbledore send me that letter? Why aren't you being callous and uncaring towards me? You should be, Merlin knows you should be."

"What are you talking about Potter?" Malfoy said as he stepped closer to Harry.

"I ruined it. I ruined everything. They detest me because I trusted him. He killed him and almost killed--" Harry started but he couldn't breath. Panic reared its ugly head and seemed to laugh manically as Harry lost control. 'Is this is why it is so hard? Am I afraid that my friends hate me now? That they don't want anything to do with me? Because of what my actions caused?'

"Merlin's beard! Breathe Potter!"

That was the last thing he heard before he was surrounded by darkness.