Harry spat blood onto the floor.
Getting out of bed seemed an impossible feat; his stomach clenched whenever he moved, though he had long since heaved whatever substance was left in his belly.
His vision swam.
He had to get to the Beast in the morning – but for now, he just wanted to sleep.
"You look terrible," the Monster said from outside his door. He'd appeared out of bloody nowhere, as per usual.
"Thanks." Harry blinked to focus himself, and wished he still had Nameless' wand. Maybe then he wouldn't feel quite so useless, or so defenseless.
As it was, the bastard looked sickeningly smug in his painting.
Harry's head throbbed.
He'd since learned that only magical people could use wands, but as far as Harry knew, nobody in Little Hangleton was a witch or a wizard. If they were, they probably wouldn't be offering sacrifices to the shadow on the hill in the first place.
Maybe it was just something that came with being the Offering? He didn't know.
The Nameless had called him a 'mudblood', which apparently meant a wizard born from non-magical parents. It seemed rich for Nameless to be commenting on anyone's blood when he was a damn talking painting, but Harry was just going to take the answer for now.
God, his head was spinning.
Although … it seemed that the Monster was locked out of the room, since it was still standing so far away.
Harry wiped drops of cold sweat from his forehead, hand trembling. He rolled over on the bed with a grunt of pain, so he didn't have to watch the Monster staring at him.
"Have you thought any more about my offer?" it continued.
"I'm not running away with you." That didn't seem an option. Harry could barely make it to the end of the corridor, let alone through the woods.
"I fear you will not survive the Prophecy." The admission was quiet, but Harry stiffened.
"Fuck the lot of you. You know that's another part of love, having faith in someone, right?"
"Will you have faith in me if I ask you to come out of the room?" the Monster asked. Its nails scratched against the door.
He must have misheard. Harry rolled over again, scowling, nausea clawing up his throat with the shift. "What?"
"You are not going to survive another night; I know from experience. I can help – but only if you come out, or if you invite me into the room. The Prophecy is still blocking me from entering."
Did the Monster really expect him to be stupid enough to fall for that?
"You didn't seem all too interested in helping me earlier," Harry rasped.
"Earlier, you had a significant number of us left, and there was a strong possibility that the Nameless would slaughter you before you left his portrait," the Monster said. "I daresay the only reason he didn't was because he wanted to see if you truly had the power of the Offering. It would have been foolish of me to aid you then."
God, what a git. Harry's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, well, you left it too late if you want to help."
"Excuse me?" The Monster's fingers tightened on the door frame. Dark eyes roved over him. "If you intend to refuse my aid out of stubborn pride –"
"I can't move without spitting up a lung," Harry hissed. Getting as far as the door seemed as much of a nauseating impossibility as escaping through the woods did.
The Monster stared at him, then looked at Nameless. The painting raised a brow.
"You are not going to watch him die," the Monster said, as if in response to some wordless conversation. "You like him."
"And what do you imagine I can do?" the Nameless returned. "He needs to deal with the Beast first. There will be consequences if he doesn't."
Harry's brow furrowed, watching them. Deal with the Beast first? As far as the order of the pieces, yes, but…
"If I let Monster help me, it will count as giving him what he wants? How the hell do you figure that?"
Was that what they were talking about, or had Harry completely got the wrong end of the stick?
"You could use that magic wand of yours to distract the Prophecy," the Monster said to the painting.
The Nameless acted as if he hadn't heard. "The Monster takes via kissing."
Harry frowned. "I've kissed him before and he wasn't magically fixed or made a better person." Though … he supposed there was a … physical side to love, that so far hadn't really been touched upon. His mouth dried. "What?" he asked, noticing their expressions.
"Kissing can have a habit of escalating," the Nameless said delicately.
If Harry didn't feel like the effort would kill him, blood would have rushed to his cheeks. "I – oh. He wants to – right. Can't I just kiss him, get him to take the curse off, and just leave it at that until later?"
He wondered what he should think of Tom Riddle Sr and Merope Gaunt, that apparently emotions came before a quick shag.
"I'm offended that you find the idea so repulsive." The Monster's tone was as light and sing-song as ever.
Harry still grimaced. "I can't even cross the room right now without feeling like I'm crawling over a bed of nails. It's not – You know I've never done this before, so stop looking at me like that! You have absolutely no right to make me feel guilty, asshole."
"I'm not forcing you to have sex with me."
"No, that's just your mother's bloody curse!" His voice hitched up an octave.
"My mother also seduced her husband via a love potion," the Monster said, eyes dark. "You have commented on our less-than-romanticized version of romance often enough."
Maybe Harry should have expected something like this. The Monster hadn't exactly been subtle about his … interest, considering he did quite literally consume via kisses from the start.
Compared to love and minds and souls, a quick shag really should be quite easy. No strings required. His heart thudded so fast he half felt his pulse should be humming in his ears.
It wasn't as if he hadn't thought about it, with them. When he had time to think, at any rate.
Harry swallowed. "I thought you were about memories and the Beast was the one obsessed with body parts…"
"You'd probably give the old man cardiac arrest –" the Monster began, before shrinking back, eyes flashing, at the look the Nameless speared him with. It focused on Harry again. "Just invite me in before you die. I assume the possibility of what you may have to do is not worse than that?"
Harry hesitated – but he truly couldn't go against that particular argument. He'd rather live, thanks. His gaze darted over scarlet lips, so at odds with how black-and-white the Monster remained otherwise.
"… I, uh, I invite you in?" He remembered himself quickly. "Just for tonight."
The Monster appeared at his side in an instant, fingers burning hot against the clammy chill of Harry's cheek.
"This would be the sleeping beauty part of the fairytale, right?" Harry tried to joke, swallowing hard as his gaze darted over the Monster's mouth once more.
"I think I prefer you awake," the Monster said, thumb tracing along his jaw. "You look terrified."
"I'm not terrified. It's just – um – it's not really how I imagined my first time," Harry managed.
"Well, at least we gave you roses."
Harry wheezed out a laugh, even as he scowled as pain lanced through him. "Don't make me laugh – are you trying to kill me?"
"My apologies." The Monster's lips twitched. His eyes were infinitely hungry, dark as space. A hint of that black snake-tongue darted out from behind sharp teeth.
"You don't bite, do you?" Harry asked. "Because I'm not sure how much more blood I can stand to lose."
"I'll save it for when you're recovered," the Monster said. The mattress dipped, as the Monster braced a knee on the edge, leaning over him. "So … may I?"
"You're not just taking it?" Harry blinked. "The first time you slammed me against the wall and kissed me the second I was in the corridor."
"There's this idiot called Harry Potter, who preaches that it doesn't count unless it's offered. It's not candles and silk sheets, but it's the best I can do. Look at yourself, I'm not risking a failed kiss."
Well, that was one way to do romance. Harry's throat thickened.
"You said … I need to deal with the Beast first," he wetted his lips. "Won't there be … consequences, if we do this? Last time I messed up the order with you guys, Riddle escaped his portrait and I ended up getting kissed in the first place."
"Yes," the Monster said. "The ramifications will reflect on either the Beast or the Prophecy – most likely the Prophecy."
"You mean, like … he won't be chained up anymore?" Harry's stomach plummeted.
Considering the Prophecy tried to kill him yesterday, there was no way that could go down well.
"You're going to die if I don't take this off you," the Monster said. "You understand that, don't you?"
"I might not. You can't know for su–"
"You will." The Monster's fingers tightened in his hair. "Don't be an idiot."
Harry swallowed, staring up at the Monster as it shifted again, both knees now bracketing his hips. Hands rested on either side of his head.
"You make something your own when you take it, don't you?" His brow furrowed, veins aching. "Like Hermione heard her laugh coming out of your mouth. Wouldn't –" well, wouldn't that mean the Monster would take the consequences for the failed kiss into himself too?
"Yes," the Monster said.
"You'd be hurting."
"I'm immortal. Unlike you, it probably wouldn't kill me."
Harry's heart quickened. "Probably?"
The Monster's eyes narrowed. "Are you going to let me save your life or not?"
Harry's ears rang. The weight of the Monster's body pressed blazingly hot against his hips as thighs dragged warm against his sides, chasing away the chill.
It looked so earnest, watching him with a carefully guarded expression in the gloom. Three fingers curled to twine into his hair as it waited – darkness personified.
Saving Harry's life, potentially at the cost of his own.
Then again, he was the Riddle's counterpart. The Riddle, who'd flung himself between Harry and the possessed Beast.
Tom Riddle, who'd tried to warn him as the Past, and tried to kill him as the Prophecy. One man, fractured beyond torment, because he wanted to live forever.
Now risking the possibility of that forever, however small the chance. For him.
Harry reached up a shaking hand, smoothing his fingers along the porcelain contours of the Monster's face, tracing the path of inky veins so visible on the surface. "Sometimes, you're really not as bad as you pretend to be, are you?"
The Monster leaned down to kiss him.
Harry turned his head away, and it froze, hovering above him, lips ghosting along the corner of his mouth. Fingers tightened into the pillowcase beside his head, nails sharp enough that Harry heard the delicate fabric tear.
"What is it now?" the Monster hissed.
Harry exhaled a breath, feeling like he was going to be sick. He squeezed his eyes shut. "No."
"No? What do you mean, no?"
"I mean no. I'm not just going to let you die instead of me."
The silence deafened him for a moment.
"I won't die. Don't be such a stubborn fool, for once in your life! This is probably the only time, offering, that you're off the hook for playing the noble hero. You don't have to pretend to care about us."
Harry blinked, chest squeezing. "I'm not … pretending anything."
"You have a better chance of breaking the curse if we do this, is what I mean. It's not the wrong move – well, there will be a fallout, because it's out of order. But the Nameless can handle the Prophecy whilst I'm weakened. You can't do anything dead. Come morning, the Prophecy will probably try and have your corpse dragged and switched into the mainframe again. Look, I'm not that bad a kisser. I've absorbed a lot of different kisses –"
"I'm not talking about the fucking curse or your kissing abilities!" Harry rasped. "I'm talking about you."
The Monster looked like Harry had just slapped him in the face. It sat up, eyes narrowed as it stared down at him. "Have the thorns reached your brain?"
Harry huffed, before grimacing as he nearly choked on his own blood, twisting on the bed.
The Monster was off him in a heartbeat, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to help him sit up.
"You heard the bit about how you're going to die?"
Harry shrugged, leaning into the arm out of pure exhaustion. The Monster, to his surprise, drew him closer. Harry's hand trembled in his lap. "Honestly, I figured I was going to die the first night. I was just hoping not to take anyone else with me." He squeezed his eyes shut. "Really, I wouldn't be the best partner right now, anyway. Bit more likely to throw up on you – not exactly sexy." He managed a smile.
"You must have many friends in the village. Family. People who love you. You're that type."
"My mother is a doll in Past's portrait, and god knows what happened to my father."
"He picked a fight with the Nameless and is now a ghost in Past's portrait," the Monster said.
Harry's eyes opened up again, as he looked up at the Monster.
"A ghost?"
"Things with no name have no place in history," the Monster said, stroking along his side. "Nothing to ground them. They're ghosts. It's what he does. They get lost in the darkness, and don't find their way out."
Harry's insides twisted.
"It would all be for nothing, if you died now," the Monster said. "They were trying to make things better for those that followed them."
Harry's nails dug into his palms. "Fuck you. I'm trying to save you."
"Me? I'm a Monster – who quite literally feeds on anyone I get close to."
"Just because names have power and you've been given that name, doesn't mean it's all you have to be," Harry said. "Someone once told me that it's our choices that define who we really are. We have a right to reject the names given to us. Voldemort did that, didn't he?"
"I wasn't asking for a defense of my character," the Monster murmured, fingers slipping beneath his sweat-drenched shirt. "In our case, our names are … everything. You were right, when you told You-Know-Who that kissing me won't magically change me or make me a better person. Even if you break the curse, I won't become a Prince Charming. We never were. There was always a little bit of Monster in Tom Riddle. That's why I exist."
"What are you trying to say?"
"True love is a joke. It creates exceptions, nothing more. Exceptions born of selfishness, because ultimately it is the desire to keep those you love that lead to them. Most people who sacrifice do it for those they love, because the thought of living without them is worse than what they are giving up. It is calculated logic, not altruism."
Harry sighed. His head tilted to rest in the crook of the Monster's neck, letting the shadows envelop him. "Love doesn't have to be a sacrifice." He closed his eyes again. "It can be acceptance. It doesn't have to be about taking or giving anything, if you don't want to be. Sometimes it's just being with someone."
"Beware the war when shadow meets light," the Monster murmured. "I hate it when the bastard's right. Clearly, we have horrible taste. There were so many better offerings than you."
Harry opened his mouth to protest, scowling, only for lips to crush against his.
The Monster's mouth was surprisingly soft.
Fingers twined into his hair, the mattress dipping with added weight as the Monster shifted on top of him properly again, cupping his head.
It was nothing like kissing the Nameless.
Despite the ferocity burning behind the Monster's lips, it was pleasure, not pain, that spread through Harry's body. Lips a soothing balm as they trailed over his jaw, and down along his throat.
Harry forgot how to breathe. "You git, I said no."
"And I told you true love was a joke. Not making either of us happy, is it?" The Monster returned to hover above his mouth again, guiding him to lie back. "Just relax. It's already started – too late to try and spare me now, hero."
Harry glared at him. "Why are you trying so hard to save me? And what the hell does 'beware the war when shadow meets light' mean? I thought that was about the lot of you switching from day to night…"
"The shadow on the hill. I – we are creatures of darkness, night or day. How could you possibly come to the conclusion that any of us were light?" The Monster looked ready to roll his eyes, staring down at him. "Shadow meets light."
"You're implying I'm light." Harry's mouth ran dry.
"All's fair in love and war, my offering."
Their lips met again, softer this time.
By morning, the Monster had chased away the chill and the poison.
Harry awoke to an empty bed, and the sound of shattering glass.
He blinked, head clear for the first time in what felt like forever. Nothing hurt – he was floating!
And there was a rock in the middle of his bedroom. He sat up, glancing over to find a small hole in the window, splintering like a spider's web.
"We need to move," the Beast said, limping across his room without so much as looking at him, peering out the window. "Get dressed."
Dawn spread across the horizon.
Harry's heart hammered in his head. The rhythm was strong now, nothing like it had been in all the days before. It had worked, the Monster had really saved him.
He felt fantastic.
The Beast, by contrast, looked absolutely dreadful. He'd always been pale, but now he was waxen, sickly, his movements the slow, withered movements of an old man stooped by age, unbearably frail.
There was a single petal left on the rose.
"What the hell is going on?" Harry demanded, tugging the sheets up to cover his body. "Is the Monster okay?"
"He's dying," the Beast dismissed, as if it was nothing. "Your friends are here. Move."
Harry scrambled to get dressed, as more stones clinked against the window. He hurried to stand next to the Beast, peering down into the struggling sunrise.
The villagers roared at the gates, crowding around it. Screaming up at the house, weapons in hand. Too far away for Harry to make out faces, though he could pick out red hair clearly enough.
His mouth ran dry. "I don't understand –" He froze as he caught sight of the Beast's eyes . They shone pure white.
The Beast smiled, far too pleasantly, and seized hold of his arm. "Let's go, Offering. I'm not dying for you."
Harry yanked his arm back, recoiling. His blood boiled.
"I'm not going anywhere with you, you spoil–" No, not spoiled. The Prophecy had never been spoiled, or cherished, by anyone. Harry gritted his teeth. "What the hell do you have against me?"
"I know the odds against you; that is enough," the Prophecy said. "Time's up, don't you see? You've had your future, now it's only fair that I have mine. You made your choice when you volunteered."
Harry's jaw clenched, and he stepped back as the the possessed Beast made another grab for him.
"Look at him – look –" He gestured at the Beast's body. "I can help him!"
"We don't have time for this," the Prophecy said. "They're attacking me."
Oh.
The Prophecy was wired to the house – and someone had just cracked a window throwing stones. Threat imminent, clawing and battering at the silver gates and the garden twisting wild and ferociously in defense.
More than any of the others, the Prophecy was this house.
Still.
"Give the Beast his heart, and I'll come to you," Harry said, breath ragged in his throat. "He needs it. The rose is almost dead, and he's the clock. You're breaking him!"
It ached to see Voldemort like that. Harry often called the man a bastard or variations thereupon, but he could acknowledge that seeing him so weak was … unnerving. It didn't suit him. Voldemort – just like Nameless – was not supposed to be stripped of his power.
And the Prophecy took from all of them, except the Monster. The Monster, who was no doubt half dead because of the kisses cursed, because of Harry.
The Monster, who maybe could have stood against the Prophecy, rattling in its chains.
The Prophecy stared at him. "The Beast's heart keeps the house running." The battery, where the Prophecy was the controller.
Harry exhaled a breath, lest he do something he regretted. He couldn't out-temper-tantrum a ten-year-old psychopath. "You want me to replace you in the circuit – you were never going to give him his heart back." Bile burned in his mouth at the thought, at the audacity of that. That the Prophecy would seize his future and condemn another's, even if it didn't have to. Even if it could save the Beast such pain.
If they hated everyone else, if they screwed him over, Harry could maybe understand. He wasn't one of them. But the way they constantly snapped at and left each other for dead…
"Take both." Harry squared his shoulders. "My heart in a box, and my body wired to your curse. Mind, body, soul. That's what you've wanted from the start."
Some sickening perversion of sacrifice, of the things given willingly in love.
The Past wanted a friend. The Prophecy wanted its future, damn anything or anyone that got in its way – even versions of itself.
White eyes considered him, colder than any child's should ever be.
"Harry, don't."
He looked over to see the Riddle emerging from his portrait, the Nameless' wand in hand.
The Prophecy-Beast's fingers flexed. "We had a deal, Riddle. I let you out of that painting, I can put you back into it too."
The rooms of the manor rattled, the letter opener rising from its place on the table.
Harry's eyes darted between them, and in an instant he'd stepped between them, grabbing the letter opener from the air. "This isn't the time for you to start fighting. The villagers will kill you!"
After everything that had happened, the grief and the powerlessness stewing over the years, the toxic resentment against the Lord of the Manor who ruled over them and took without care or consequence … they'd claw this whole damn place down to the ground with their bare hands if they thought they could.
"I am not living under his thumb for the rest of my life," the Riddle said. "You wouldn't either, Harry. It's the offering that matters, the choice. Not fate or prophecy." He spat the name like it was the curse itself.
Shit.
"That's not the Prophecy, that's still the Beast. You go for him, the Nameless will go for you. You'll obliterate each other!"
"And the winner gets you," the Riddle said, eyes dark as the Monster's ever were. "A fair prize, I would say."
Harry swallowed. "I'm not a prize. Look – let me go to the gate, show them I'm okay, and persuade them to leave us alone. We need more time."
"You're not leaving," the Prophecy said. "You said you would give me everything."
He still needed the Beast and the Prophecy – but what, did he slice his heart out with the letter opener? It wasn't a gamble he wanted to risk just on the off chance!
His gaze fixed on the ruined rose again. So ridiculously fragile, with even its barrier of thorns withering. Wasting away. It would never survive another fight between these two.
And then it would all be over. Not just for him, but for everyone.
There was no time!
"I don't want you to hurt them! The villagers have done nothing to you!"
"They're attacking me!" The letter opener wrenched out of Harry's hand, dragging a hiss from him as it sliced his palm open.
"You attacked them first!"
"They would have done it if I didn't," the Prophecy said. "If they weren't scared and kept in line. It's you. You've ruined everything! They think they can hurt me because of you – you make us weak. You've already slain the Monster!"
Harry recoiled. "Slain the Monster?" It came out no louder than a whisper. The last kiss tingled on his lips. Weakened? What was this? "I'm not the one with the lethal kiss."
"Aren't you?" The Prophecy glared at him.
"I didn't – I never meant –" Harry's breath caught. He glanced at the Riddle for help, for something.
"No one ever means to fall in love with anybody," the Riddle said softly. "The world would be a much kinder place if we could control that."
"Where is the Monster?"
"Harry –"
"Where is he?" He grabbed the letter opener out of the air again.
"You haven't figured it out by now? He's the wild card."
Harry stared at the Riddle, brow furrowed, mouth dry. He shook his head. He had no clue at all anymore.
"The flickering?" the Riddle said, taking a step closer to him. "The switching, night and day?"
"I know you're the Monster's counterpart," Harry said.
"Do the rest of us flicker like he does?" the Riddle asked, reaching out, stroking a thumb along his cheek.
"We don't have time for this," the Prophecy said. "We had a deal. You can have him for all of eternity for all I care – let's just finish this, before the rabble break down the gate."
"Just spit it out without the riddles, for once," Harry's teeth gritted. Hands tightening around the Riddle's wrist. "What does he mean, I slayed the Monster? He's immortal, he –"
"Have you ever played cards, Harry? What does the wild card do?"
"It … represents the highest card, or any card that you want it to." His gut plunged, twisting, and he wasn't sure why.
"And you just played him. Card played, card leaves deck. Never quite so finicky a game as love, is there?"
"What do you mean, card leaves deck?" Harry's head spinning. Of course, he knew what that meant, but … he must be misunderstanding something, because the Monster couldn't be…
"The Monster never lived in the first place," the Prophecy snapped. "He's an abomination. A wild card, that triggered this whole game. That's why he flickers. "
Harry laughed. "He definitely felt real last night."
"We play the card of the Monster. It is what we are – there was always a bit of Monster in Tom Riddle, he told you that," the Riddle said, studying him. "He absorbs his victims. Reflects them. Two jokers in a pack: ours, which we played as stated. And yours – which you played last night."
"Nope," Harry said, shaking his head. "You're the Monster's counterpart. What, are you going to tell me the Beast isn't real next? How do I piece together a puzzle if one of the pieces doesn't exist?"
"We never said he's not real. We said he was never alive," the Riddle said.
Harry's stomach plunged, mouth dry. "He must be somewhere."
"Everything is somewhere," the Prophecy said. "He is powerless now – that is all that matters."
Harry took a step back from the arm that grabbed at him, jerking away from the Riddle.
"Would undoing the curse bring him back?"
The Prophecy's eyes narrowed. "I accept your deal, Harry Potter. Give me what you promised me."
The gate clattered sickeningly loud outside the window.
The world, despite daybreak, hung in some eerie twilight.
Harry nodded, squaring his shoulders. The Prophecy's response settled it. "Sorry, no deal," he said. "The game's changed a bit, hasn't it? I said I'd save him – I'm not leaving him behind now."
A smirk crossed the Riddle's face.
"I will have my future." The Prophecy stepped closer. The floor began to splinter beneath Harry's feet, the darkness plunging absolute.
The Riddle aimed the wand, raising a brow, one hand settling on Harry's shoulder. "You heard our offering. He said no."
The yells intensified outside, and Harry heard the tramp of feet, of cries.
"Then you're asking for it too," the Prophecy said.
The Beast crumpled to the floor.
"I'm fine," Voldemort said, shoving Harry's hand away as he hobbled down the corridor. "We have bigger problems to deal with. The gate will not last long. Give me my wand."
Harry seized his arm, yanking the Beast to a halt.
"You can't hurt them. They're just scared."
"People do terrible things when they're 'just scared'," the Riddle said, eyes dark. "You've met the Prophecy. It does not excuse them."
Harry's gaze moved over the lone rose petal again. It was turning brown, curling at the edges. Nausea clawed up his throat – torn – so close now, maybe, and yet…
He couldn't see the villagers hurt. And they would be hurt if they continued. Could he talk to them? Was there time?
Time…
"Trade with me."
The Beast ground to a halt, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"
"My heart for the rose," he said, wetting his lips. "You need a heart. I need more time, so give me the clock."
"Are you so eager to be in crippling pain?" Riddle frowned. "You just finished nearly dying."
Harry stared the Beast down.
"You can't be serious," the Riddle said. "If you're feeling guilty about the Monster –"
"Deal," Voldemort said. Harry knew he'd never be able to resist.
The house shook ominously around them. The first of the villagers managed to scramble their way over the gate.
The Riddle sighed, and pressed the wand into his hand. "I'll want this back, before the end, Harry Potter. But you're going to need it."
"There," the Beast said. "How are you feeling?"
Harry had the worst ideas in the world, he was sure of it. He could have gone without this, especially after all the Monster had sacrificed to save him.
The colour drained from his face, as he examined the tender stalk in his chest. The gaping hole of it, that made Harry's stomach lurch to look at.
Somehow, he'd expected the rose to replenish itself, with a new life to leech on.
A healthy flush crept along the Beast's cheeks, new strength flexing through his bones.
"Like the Nameless has given me the kiss of death again," Harry said, cheerily enough. Or, at least, he did his best with it. "Help me up, will you?"
He couldn't give up now. He couldn't stop and rest – he could rest once the villagers were safe, and the curse was broken. He'd come this far.
Voldemort's arm wrapped around him, fingers pressed vice-like against his hip. Harry had forgotten how strong the Beast was, when they first met. Strong enough to hold him entirely mobilized, not fading enough to be shoved away even in the form of some feral, slavering creature.
How long had it been since this all started? Harry had no idea. He'd stopped counting.
"What are you going to do about the Prophecy?" the Beast murmured, in his ear. "The rose weakens you. You have little time. What do you need of me?"
Harry could hear the villagers screaming, hear the house creaking and groaning as if it was screaming too. He swallowed. "The Prophecy? I was still wondering what the hell I was supposed to be doing about you –"
"I told you what you needed to do about me a long time ago, Harry," the Beast's lips twitched. "I want your heart. You just gave it to me, albeit not in the manner I expected."
Harry blinked at him. "I'm still pretty sure that was supposed to be bloody metaphorical."
No, not the time to concentrate on that.
"Stop the Riddle from hurting anyone, please." He craned up to press a kiss to the new warmth of the Beast's cheek. "I need to see to a certain Prophecy."
"Oh, don't worry, Harry." The Beast's fingers tightened on his shoulder. "He'll be coming for you. The Past has bought you some time."
Harry swallowed, hard.
The Riddle's screams shattered the air.
Harry hurried through the crumbling hallways of Riddle Manor, heart slamming in his throbbing chest. He felt every breath, ragged.
He burst into the main entrance room, flooded with villagers who all surrounded Riddle. Elegant, handsome, every inch a young lord but for the violence branded across his expression. Eyes wild as the Beast's ever were, backing up.
The Beast shifted with a sickening crack, and the next second leapt down the stairs, scattering the gathered villagers as he coiled, snarling, at Riddle's side.
Smoke coiled heavy on the air, knives glinted in hands, and thin sunshine shafted through the kicked-in doors, once grand.
The ground shook beneath them, door slamming.
Faces Harry once knew twisted unrecognizable with hate, as they advanced on the pair, hurling abuse and accusations.
Harry shouted three times to get himself heard, before the wand sounded a colossal bang.
The room silenced as everyone turned to look at him.
He gasped for breath, before squaring his shoulders, and beginning to walk slowly down the staircase. It would have been a fairytale, he was sure, if everyone wasn't trying to kill each other and didn't look so horrified.
"Harry … oh god, your chest…" He'd thought he would never hear Ginny's voice again. "What did they do to you?"
He'd assumed seeing everyone again would be a relief. Right now, it really wasn't.
"I'm fine," he said. "And I offered."
That did nothing to appease anyone.
"Has it put you under some kind of spell?" Ron demanded.
Harry moved carefully to stand next to Riddle and Beast, laying a hand on the Beast's head as he bristled – ready to go for the throat.
"No," he said. "I'm okay. It's not been so bad." Okay, so it had been pretty awful at times, but he was nearly done with all of that. "Just … please leave, alright? I've got this."
The Prophecy could be upon them at any minute.
"Leave?" Ginny said. "Harry, we're not leaving you here. He's – the things it's done, curse or no curse –"
The Beast's snarl drowned out the rest of her sentence.
Harry could imagine it all too well, imagine the blood-pumping need for justice simmering through them, at explosion point.
He splayed a hand on Riddle's chest too, as Tom stepped forward, painfully aware of how outnumbered they were.
"You heard the boy," Riddle said. "He's choosing us."
"No, he just feels he needs to stay to protect us! That's not a choice!" Ginny's voice cracked. "Harry, please. You don't have to stay here anymore."
Many other voices chimed in, most of them unable to take their eyes off his chest. On how the shadow was clearly killing him, on how the sun shone brighter outside, that he'd done enough already.
But it was only with the lifting of the curse that they were brave enough to attack the manor, wasn't it? A stirring, vicious restlessness. A mob of terror, and the bared teeth of all that had been lost.
They wouldn't listen to a word he had to say.
"Please!" Harry held shaking hands into the air. "You have to leave. Now. You can't bring weapons into the house like this!"
The whole manor trembled.
Harry suspected that if the Prophecy had the power it once did, when all of this started, that it would have possessed all of the house's inhabitants and massacred everyone already.
A child's eerie humming floated above the crest of the argument, the shift of weapons and demands.
The soft singing of a lullaby, growing louder and louder.
The villagers stilled.
"Is that … a child?" Mrs Weasley asked.
"Please go," Harry said. His chest constricted, fingers tightening around the wand.
"Why is there a child? Did it –"
Harry aimed the wand at the crowd with a shaking hand, chin jutted up. "Leave, now. Or you will all be dead."
The doors on the left side of the house burst open. Chains rattled and clinked along the floor, swallowing the pad of small feet strolling to look over the frozen pandemonium below.
The stench of blood followed, the Past limping along behind.
Harry's teeth gritted.
The Prophecy's head barely reached over the top of the banister – a small child, and those blazing white eyes as it stared down at them at all, as if in judgment. Smiling.
It lifted one scarlet hand, fingers clenched around the Beast's heart.
Harry's chest twinged, eyes widening as the thorns in his chest began to stir. Constricting around the rose, instead of protecting it and vines curling up to his throat.
The Riddle seized him before he could hit his knees. "Stop it!" Tom hissed.
"Stand down or I'll kill him," the Prophecy said. "Then none of you can have him."
Some of the villagers stepped back, seemingly questioning coming here.
"Oh no, don't leave!" The Prophecy squeezed the heart, blood dripping to the floor as Harry cried out. "I haven't played with this many people in ages! It's so nice to meet you all."
"Harry –" Many of the Weasleys moved to rush to his side, only for the Beast's hackles to flare as he snapped at them, missing Ginny's throat by inches.
"Stay back!" Harry managed. "Just – stop moving."
"See, the Offering knows what to do," the Prophecy said. "The Offering has spoken. Listen to him."
The darkness smothered the manor. A visceral darkness, that clung to every crevice and clogged up Harry's lungs.
The walls twisted and warped, bones grasping out from beneath the floorboards as the Prophecy raised a hand.
"Leave them alone," Harry said.
"You should have taken the deal when you had the chance," it said. "And not been mean." The Prophecy swung its gaze over the Beast. "Bring him to me."
The Beast didn't move, scarlet eyes flashing. Teeth baring.
The Prophecy 's face didn't change, as the dead clawed at the screaming living.
Harry, with nausea, recognized some of them as the rotting corpses of the offerings of years before. He shoved the Riddle's supporting hand away, stepping towards the Prophecy for himself.
"No," Ginny whispered. "Harry, don't … you can't…"
He smiled at her. "It's alright," he said. "Trust me." He shot Riddle and Beast a look at the words too.
He moved up the stairs, a white-knuckled grip on the railing, the wand still clutched in his hand.
He stopped beside the Past, kneeling to examine him, squeezing the young boy's shoulder – ignoring the Prophecy completely. "Alright?"
The Past nodded, glancing at the Prophecy.
Harry watched the shadows on the right side of the house stir, unseeing eyes bloody in the gloom. Nameless. Harry nodded once, exhaling a breath.
The Past – a friend.
The Riddle – someone to talk to, connect with.
The Nameless – recognition.
The Monster…
The Beast – a heart.
The Prophecy – a future.
Tormented fragments, twisted like puppets in the games of one bored child with no care for anybody except itself.
He finally looked at the Prophecy – cupped its cheek without fear. "Is this really the future you want?"
One more time.
It recoiled from him.
"I will not spend the rest of my life in the nursery," it hissed. "You had your chance. It's my turn!"
Harry briefly squeezed his eyes shut, letting his hand drop before he straightened. "Tom," he said to the Past. "Thank you."
"No." The Past shook his head. "No! The future is always informed by the Past – I told you, you can't – you – I won't let you."
The Prophecy laughed. "Come, Harry Potter. Play with me."
Harry glanced down to the entrance hall below – not needing the Prophecy's eyes to see what would happen this time. The bloodshed, and the massacre, whether by the Prophecy's hands, or the Beast's claws, or the Riddle.
None of them would forgive a threat.
"No!" He heard Ginny's voice behind him. "No, you can't have him. Not again." Her voice caught.
He heard the pounding of footsteps on the stairs, like a distant dream.
Turned slowly, saw how the Beast lunged for her throat the second she moved.
But not before she threw the knife.
Harry didn't think.
He didn't even do it for the Prophecy, really. Maybe he was just too used to trying to save people, and maybe the child deserved a future. If only they had someone who believed in a better one.
That would be a nice explanation.
But Harry didn't think.
He lunged in the way of the knife as it hurtled towards the Prophecy, barely feeling it as it plunged into his stomach.
Everything froze. His ears rang. He wasn't aware of hitting his knees, or of the Prophecy staring at him, wide-eyed, knuckles still bloody as it let the Beast's heart fall to the floor.
"Oh," Harry said, softly.
The last petal hit the floor at the same time he did.
A/N: Hope that wasn't too disappointing.