A/N: Hey guys, welcome to my new story. I won't divulge many secrets except that it is set more than a decade after the events of the war.
- Though Harry and Hermione are the main pairing, they will have other partners throughout the story.
- The story is told in three timelines. Present, 1997, and 1998.
- For those of you who've read my previous story, Time skips, pain remains, this story is much darker. It deals with really heavy stuff that some of you may find very disturbing.
- The characters are terribly flawed, morally grey, and will act manners throughout the story that may not approve of.
C.W. - PTSD, Rape, Dub Con, Infidelity, Explicit Sexual Content, Torture, BDSM, Kink, Blood and Injury, Gore, Violence.
Lastly, I want to thank my friend, Mike, whose idea was the inspiration for this story.
CHAPTER 1: The wrong decision
Darkness.
Not a speck of light anywhere in sight.
Silence all around.
An incomprehensible muffling noise, becoming more prominent and distinguishable with each passing second.
Footfalls, soft, not unlike the rustling of leaves in a gentle breeze.
A sharp click, the turning of a knob, followed by a low groan of the rusty old wooden door as it slowly swing open.
His senses came alive, but they were all drowned out by a jolt of sharp pain that left him breathless. Arms aching, pointing towards the ceiling, the burn of the chain tied around his wrists, the only thing keeping him upright, squeezing his flesh, blood pooling down his arms, trailing a path through his armpits, following the contours of the length of his body, hips, kneecaps, feet, before dripping onto the floor. His legs, nothing but dead weight, feet couple of inches above the ground, the strain in his muscles from the slight back and forth motion.
It took him a few moments to get accustomed to the pain, as it did every time.
Blood not only coated every part of his body but also his senses. It was all he could smell; all he could taste, and he felt the only reason he couldn't hear anything was because blood was pooling in his ears.
The kiss of the cool night air smattering across his bloodied face almost brought a smile to his face, but that lasted less than a second, before it stung every crevice of skin that was ripped open. He clenched his eyes tightly to bear of the sharp pain before taking a long, deep breath. He opened them and tilted his head to the side towards the door.
A silhouetted figure stood at the threshold; a three-branch candle holder made of brass obscuring the face from his point of view. The bright glow of orange light made him dip his head and shut his eyes; it was like staring into the sun.
It took him a few seconds before he gathered the courage to lift his head and he found himself staring at a pair of gleaming red eyes. The candle was now hovering right beside the face.
His gaze dropped a few inches to the wicked smile and every hair on his body stood up to its full height, or at least it felt like it.
It wasn't because of fear though, that had been beaten out of his system, it was the anticipation, and that, he has learned, is the deadliest of poison to the mind.
The creature - that's exactly what he was, no longer the man he once was, that was long gone by now, longer than he'd been alive, beaten out of his system just like his fear, the only difference being, it was of his own violation and not at the hands of others – slithered into the room.
His eyes tracked him until he caught movement by the door through his peripheral vision.
His bruised and blotted eyes turned as wide as they possibly could and he felt his ears drown out every sound except the frantic beating of his heart.
Gliding into the room, a foot above the surface, bent forward in a kneeling position, back horizontal with a slight curve to it, arms pushed backwards, hands folded above the hip, head tilted to the floor, hidden behind a curtain of straight black hair, was the motionless figure of a girl.
She seemed no more than 12.
Fear. He thought he was immune to it. He thought wrong. This was fear like no other.
"I thought I'd demonstrate my favorite past time to you."
He whipped his head in the direction of the voice.
"Some like to call it a game" continued the creature. "I don't disagree" he shrugged, walking over to him. "As just like any game it requires participation and tonight, I'm going to give you the esteemed honor to participate."
He struggled with the chains but as always, they didn't budge, not in the slightest. Teeth baring, he growled at him.
The creature chuckled. "Oh, come on now, Harry." He leaned till their faces were almost touching and whispered. "Don't be a spoiled sport." He pulled back and nodded his head towards the girl suspended in the air, small whimpers leaving her mouth. "You don't want me to have all the fun, do you." He shot him a wicked smile before continuing. "I can see it in your eyes, they're salivating, you can't wait to have a go...to feel the power." He nodded. "Yes...I'm right. How about I give you a little demonstration and then we can divide it in turns, hmm. Yes, I think that's how we shall proceed."
He turned around, snapped his fingers and a long metal rod transformed out of thin air and straight into his right hand.
He dragged it across the stone floor as he made his way back towards her.
That sound, Harry knew, of metal against stone, would haunt him for the rest of his life.
He watched him come to a stop to the side of the girl. His heart was beating so fast he felt it would burst right out of his chest.
"No" he croaked in a ragged whisper.
"What is it the muggles say..." the creature faced him with a slight furrow between his eyes before his face cracked into a wide smile. "Oh, that's right...let's get the party starting."
Harry started jerking violently, swinging his legs every which way as the creature gently laid the edge of the rod above the girl's head.
"No, please don't! - "
He turned his gaze towards the girl and silently begged her to do something, anything. Fight, run, just not like this. God, not like this.
He snapped his gaze back up and felt the air leave his lungs faster than a firebolt.
There, standing next to the girl was no longer the creature. Gone was the bald head, the snake like nose, the red eyes, replaced with an unruly mop of black hair, a sharp pointed nose, and emerald green eyes behind a pair of round glasses.
It had been a long time since he'd seen his own reflection, but this, this was no reflection because the face staring back at him wasn't covered in blood, nor were the eyes wide with fear and most importantly, it had a smile that was so twisted and dark that it made him want to claw his face right off.
He watched in absolute horror as the rod is lifted high in the air before it came hurling down.
"NOOO!"
Harry bolted up, head whipping from side to side, eyes raking over every inch of his surroundings. He was in a room, much different from the one he'd been just a few seconds ago and more importantly, this was real, this was present.
He breathed a huge sigh of relief and tried to control the frantic beating of his heart by taking in huge gulps of air. Beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead.
He turned his head to the left and swept his gaze over the form of the woman sleeping with her head facing the other way. Though it is still dark outside the moonlight sweeping in through the open window casts a light glow on her bare back. The bruises he'd left on her skin had turned a darker shade of red. He had no doubt his looked similar. He didn't need to touch her to know that perspiration still lingered on her skin.
He craned his neck towards the bedside table on her side. 4.42 A.M
Not even two hours had passed since they were abusing the bed and the wall behind the headboard with their wild and furious love making.
He chuckled inwardly.
Love making.
He can't remember the last time he made love; he can't remember the last time he wanted to make love.
Running a hand through his hair he craned his neck back and stayed like that for a few moments.
He swung his legs off the bed, leaned to the side and grabbed his glasses perched on the edge of the table before putting them on and got up. He swayed a little on the spot and put a hand to his head to stop the nausea that crept up because of the action.
Gathering his bearings, he padded bare foot towards the door next to the wooden chair lined up against the wall where his clothes were strewn across.
He opened the door, walked inside the small bathroom and stopped before the sink. He twisted the knob to the tap and stared into the mirror, waiting for the freezing cold water to turn warm.
His normally unkempt hair was even more messy than usual. He pushed back the thick locks of jet-black hair obscuring his forehead – his gaze momentarily lingering on his faded scar – and bunched them in his fist.
Yup, he needed a haircut.
The hair toppled back over his forehead as he let it go. He turned his gaze down and as per routine, swept it over every scar marked across his flesh. There were so many that the bruises and scars he'd endured a few hours ago were barely visible.
To anyone not familiar with his body, and there weren't any, it would be near impossible to locate the marks, disfigurements, blemishes etched upon his person, for they were all hidden beneath colorful patterns of different kinds.
The three-inch scar with a slight curve on his left collarbone was concealed beneath a fire breathing dragon, the Hungarian horntail.
On the opposite end, just above his right pectoral muscle, a broom, the Nimbus 2000 to be precise, hid the three horizontal scars.
Two swords, pure silver, inset with rubies, intersecting right in the middle of his torso, starting from the top of his shoulders and ending with the tip pointing right above his hip bones, were inked over the two longest scars.
The length of his arms was painted in the colors of Gryffindor house emblem, the scars hidden beneath them undistinguishable but to his eyes, it was like staring at stars on a clear night's sky.
His wrists were covered in chains, marked in metallic grey.
Moving his gaze further down he stopped at the top of his left thigh, gazing into the lifeless eyes of Hedwig, the snowy owl inked across the entirety over his upper leg. Yet, even his trusty old friend couldn't hide the purple hue that stretched to the edge of his knee and all around the back of his thigh.
There's a saying that physical pain is temporary, it comes, stays for a bit, but eventually goes away. It's the mental side of things that tend to stay forever and take up permanent resident in one's mind. He couldn't agree more, in fact, he is the living, breathing proof of that, but the pain he endured the night the torment was inflicted upon him still harbors a cavern in the deepest pits of his mind and one look at the stitched together skin shoots that memory, and the agony, right up to forefront of his psyche.
He remembered, thinking, after it was all done and he was curled up in a ball on the dirty, muddy floor, his voice gone after screaming for hours, blood seeping past his lips as he watched with vacant eyes, the snake across the room swallowing the fleshy chunk of meat, and then looked down at the hole in his upper leg, a foot long, his bones sticking out, that he'd never endure pain like that ever again, he was right.
He shifted his gaze to his other leg, below his knee, and spent a few seconds staring at the resurrection stone, twice the size of the real item. A faint scar was visible right in the middle of the red that went around his calf.
He turned around and with a flick of his fingers conjured a small mirror out of thin air. It hovered a few feet away from him, proportionate with his eye line.
He looked at the golden snitch inked over his right deltoid, like the resurrection stone, the golden ball was also twice its normal size but, unlike the stone, it did obscure whatever blemish it was protecting.
He shifted a bit on the spot and adjusted the small mirror by pushing it further away before staring right into it at the enormous head of the lion that covered his entire back. His mind flashed back to the night he encountered the beast, the king of his species, but he pulled himself right back out before the memory completely overtook him. It had to be quick or he would've lost control of his senses and would've travelled back in time faster than the speed of light, and that wouldn't have been pleasant, and not just for himself.
Shaking his head, he went back to staring into the lion's eyes. He stared into them for a few seconds before focusing his attention to the three vertical lines, position right in the middle of his back, a distance of couple of inches between each line. They all started from just below his neck and ended right above the curve of his hip. All three scars were twice as thicker than the rest.
He vanished the mirror with a snap of his fingers and turned around. He stared into the mirror as the steam from the hot water began to rise up.
Looking deep into his eyes, he whispered "You're a coward." He spat at his reflection.
Bending down he washed his face before drying it with the hand towel hanging off the plastic rail attached to the wall. Turning the tap off, he walked over to the toilet and relieved himself. He closed his eyes and found momentarily comfort in the sound of piss splashing into the water.
Flushing the toilet, he walked out of the bathroom and picked his clothes of the chair. He pulled on his black trousers and white shirt before he sat on the chair and put on his socks and black, leather boots before standing up. He grabbed his black, overlong coat hanging off the back of the chair and put it on.
He walked over to the window and gazed outside. It was still dark though a hint of light was starting to creep through the clouds.
He swept his gaze across the snow-covered houses and ground. The lake to the east, past the marshes was still frozen.
From his viewpoint he could make the looming shadow of the mountains past the lake that stretched around the small town of Reine. With a population of just 308, the fishing town is located in the Nordland County of Norway. It's a close-knit community of people where everyone knows each other and where the presence of an unfamiliar figure sparks a curious chatter among the townsfolk, which is what happened the moment he stepped inside the only inn situated right in the middle of the town and paid for a whole week's stay in advance.
He didn't even need to eavesdrop or be in the close vicinity of people to know that he was the talk of the town during his first night. He could feel it in the air when he went out for a stroll, or when he walked into the only pub, which was filled to the brim, and the door closed behind him the commotion died down instantly and everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him unashamedly.
Though that was nothing new to him as he was used to people openly gawking at him, however, he was used to that kind of attention only in the wizarding world, so being under this level of scrutiny, with all his defenses down, did caught him off guard and put him on edge.
Turning his head down he marched over to the crowded bar and placed a quick order for a beer and grabbed the menu before heading to the only available spot at the back corner.
He could hear the hush whispers and every time he lifted his head up, he would catch someone's eye before they whipped their head away. There was no way he was staying if it wasn't that it was the only place, he could get something to eat as the inn he was staying at weren't able to serve dinner because their cook had caught a serious fever.
As the minutes passed by, the more uncomfortable he got, and he was seriously thinking of just calling this expedition off and going back home. Just as he was fighting this inner battle with himself a large mug of beer was placed in front of him.
He blinked his eyes and looked up. Couple of things happened at that moment, he felt his brain do a clean sweep of the thoughts that had coursing through his mind, he felt his breath gave way and his mouth go dry.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen someone so beautiful. She was angelic. Pale skin, blue eyes, blonde hair, and the most charming smile on her pink lips.
"Have you decided yet?" her soft voice finally broke him out his stupor and he realized that he had been staring at her with a deer caught in head lights expression.
He turned his head down and hurriedly pick up the menu.
"Sorry" he chuckled nervously.
"No, no, please" she laid a gentle hand on his forearm. "Take your time, I'll come back."
"No!" his eyes turned wide at her startled expression. "Sorry, I mean – I know what I want" he finished in a whisper.
She smiled warmly. "Okay" she giggled.
He'd been so flustered that he only just picked upon her accent, which he realized was very light compared to the few people he'd spoken to.
He inhaled a deep, calming breath and gave her a small smile in return. "I'll take the burger with the fries."
Her lips curled into a smirk. "That's not very healthy now, is it"
He chuckled and for first time since his arrival that morning felt truly at ease with himself and felt the anxiety that had taken a hold of him since he stepped inside the pub take a leave.
"No, not very healthy"
She leaned closer and rather conspiratorially whispered "I make mean meatballs, Norwegian style." she pulled back and continued in her normal voice. "I'm sure you've never tasted them before, or if you have, they were no way near as good as mine."
He inclined an eyebrow, an amused smile tilting his mouth upwards. "Oh really" There was a hint of challenge in his tone which by the look in her eyes seemed she picked up.
Her smirk grew wider as she picked up the menu from the table. "I'll be back" with that she turned around and disappeared into the crowd and as he sat staring at the space, she was occupying only a moment ago only one thought was running through his head. There was no way he was cutting this trip short.
And as he backed away from the window and turned around to stare at the face of the sleeping woman, he knew he made the wrong decision.
After she came back carrying a plate of the most delicious looking meatballs he'd ever seen and put it on the table, she stood with one hand on her hip and challenging glint in her eye that had made him slight wary if he was being honest with himself.
"I'll make you a deal" she began. "If those are not the best meatballs you've ever had in your life than your meal is free but," she held up a finger. "If they are – and you have to be honest – then you'll let me show you around the town."
For a moment he didn't know how to respond to that.
He cleared his throat and pretended to think it through though by goofy smile on her face he already knew what his answer was going to be. "Deal"
She clapped her hands and let out a loud whoop that he feared might draw the attention of other patrons but when he looked around, not a single person glanced in their direction.
"You can't back out now" she said childishly with a stern expression on her face.
"Oh, I don't intend to, but I will say that I feel like I'm getting the best out of either scenario."
"How so" she said with a light furrow in her brow.
"Well, if I win, I won't have to pay and if I lose, I get to spend time with you" A rosy hue came over her cheeks that had him smiling. "So, you see I win either way."
"Well, we'll see about that."
He nodded and for a moment the two just stared at each other before she indicated towards the dish.
"Oh, right"
He grabbed the fork and cut a slice before bringing it to his mouth. His eyes closed involuntarily, and he barely suppressed the moan that was on the precipice of slipping past his lips. God, forget meatballs he can't remember the last time he tasted anything this good.
Trying to play it cool and wanting to prolong her agony, he kept on eating at a leisurely place as the incestuous tapping of her foot kept getting louder.
"Well," she demanded, after her patience had run out.
He put the fork down and faced her. "I'm in a somewhat of a dilemma you see."
She arched an eyebrow. "Go on"
"This is by far the best meal I've had in a very long time" A beaming smile came over her lips. "But, by admitting that it would mean that I would have to pay for my meal, so I was having this inner debate where I was thinking of just lying."
She fell into a fit of giggles and her cheeks once against turned a brighter shade.
She wiped at her eyes and bent forward. "Well, you see" she smirked. "I've never been one to follow the rules so I think we can think our away around that little problem."
"Well, in that case" he pointed towards the half empty plate. "These are the best meatballs I've ever had."
A smile came over him as he thought back to the events of that night. True to her word she showed him around the town, but, not true to her word his meal ended being free anyway.
She told him everything there was about the history of the town, and he basked it all in. After walking for hours, they sat down on a bench and talked for another hour, this time about more personal things.
She told him everything about her.
Her name was Emma, she was 29, a couple of years younger than him, was born and brought up in Oslo, but during every winter holidays came here to visit her grandparents who ran the pub. After their deaths five years ago, she took hold of the ownership and hired a few locals to run the place except on winter holidays when she comes back and stays for a month.
Back home, she owns and runs a small restaurant in the heart of Oslo, Jeanne, named after her grandmother.
He told her an abbreviated and a much simpler version of his life, one that didn't involve the wooden stick tucked inside his coat pocket or had anything to do with scar on his forehead, or any other scars he possessed. He told her that he was a photographer, which wasn't a lie, except that the photographs he took weren't still photos. He told her that he heard about a rare species of animal lurking in the forest south of the town and wanted to capture them. Again, it wasn't a total lie, except that his way of travelling to the said forest was something she'd never even dreamed about or that the species of animal he took this expedition for was only she'd read in fairytales, unicorns. She titled her head to the side and looked at him confusedly, saying that there was no way of getting to the forest as the lake was frozen. He simply shot her a wink and said no more.
They parted ways around 4 with an unspoken promise of meeting again, and they did.
That's how it went on for six more days. He would meet her every night at the pub and stay till everyone left, then they would stroll around the town, sometimes she talked and he listened, other times they walked in companiable silence. He remained quiet unless she posed him a question and he answered with the minimal use of words.
He could tell she wanted to know more about him but was very aware of his reluctant nature to divulge information about himself and of all the things he had grown to admire about her that was the one that made him respect her.
He liked her, of that he had no doubt, and he knew she liked him too. He had never felt this way about another woman since...well, since her. But he also knew that this was as far as he could act upon his feelings for a multitude of reasons. Aside from the fact that they belonged to two different worlds – that wasn't that big of a deal as the number of marriages between a wizard and a muggle had grown exponentially since the end of the second wizarding war – relationships were not his forte, romantic or platonic. His closet was so full of demons that there were many he wasn't even aware of but he could always feel them lurking in some corner. There was a reason he kept his interactions with people to the minimum, always conscious of the fact that his next episode could be right around the corner and he never wanted her to see him in that state. He wanted to keep this image, this façade, he'd managed to pull over her.
There was one other thing, he couldn't love her, and he wasn't going to fool himself into believing that it will materialize in the future if they were to give this a go. That was never going to happen, ever again. Love was a thing of fantasy for him, a fantasy he never wanted to come true.
He knew she wasn't type for a casual one-night stand or even a short fling. From the way she talked about romance, or the way her eyes lit up every time she shared some story about the love her parents and grandparents shared, it was evident that was the kind of love she hoped for herself. The fairytale kind. The kind he used to dream about a long time ago. The kind he stopped believing in after that night.
As he was walking back to the inn during his fourth night in the town, just minutes after parting with her, he promised himself that he wouldn't see her again. It was getting really hard to keep a hold of his emotions while being in a close proximity with her and discard the feelings stirring up inside him.
He kept good to his promise and though it made him want to punch a hole in the wall he didn't leave his room that night. However, around midnight, as he lay on his bed with his hands under his head, glaring a hole in the ceiling, a rock came flying into his room through the open window.
He shot up and whipped his head where the rock landed. His hand shot straight towards his wand and he grabbed it from under his pillow. His heartbeat multiplied by a thousand and the hair on his arms stood up. He got off the bed and cautiously approached the window.
He lined himself against the wall with his back pressed against it and peeked his head out. He sighed a huge breath of relief as he spotted Emma standing below his window waving at him with a huge smile on his face.
That was the precise moment he knew that he was done for. In less than 2 minutes he was walking beside her.
Luckily for him, he hadn't yet had a mental breakdown in front of her and it was very rare for him to feel this calm with someone new. Usually by this point people wanted to be as far away from him as possible. He never blamed them, not after the time Ron set him with a girl. They were sitting in this very fancy restaurant that newly opened in Diagon Alley which she pre-booked and fifteen minutes into their date, he started growing uncomfortable because of the sound of the cutlery when suddenly he couldn't take it anymore and stormed off. He cried himself to sleep that night. He never saw her again.
He managed pretty well for the next couple of days while inwardly struggling to not do something rash and stupid, but it all slipped out of his control last night. For the last 2 nights since she threw the rock through his window, she walked with him back to the inn even though it was on the other side of the town from where she lived. He didn't question it as he was all too willing to spend more time with her.
After reaching the front door she would kiss his cheek, give him a warm smile and bid him good night before turning around leaving. It was bittersweet, knowing that by restricting himself he was doing what was best for himself and her but at the same time also yearning for more.
Alas, he made his peace with it, only one more night and then he would be gone, and maybe, one day he'll come back just to see if her fairytale love story came true. He had it all picturized in his mind, he'd stand outside the pub and look through the glass windows. She would be leaning against the bar top, gazing lovingly up at a man with an unknown face when a couple of kids would come running over and whisk him away.
She would walk over to the front door to lock it and at that moment would catch his eyes. The shock would disappear quickly, and she would smile at him, the same impish smile that she gave him when he first looked at her. Gradually, her smile would turn melancholic, and an understanding would past between them.
Yes, they made the right decision. And then he would turn and walk away.
He could live with that. He could live for that.
However, that all went down the drain last night. They came back from another stroll but unlike previous times there was a thick tension between them, and he knew precisely the moment the air shifted around them. She'd just told a joke, it was quite funny, and they were laughing hysterically. He couldn't remember the last time he laughed like that; if he ever did the memory was long forgotten.
She gave him a playful shove as they rounded the corner and passed under a streetlamp. He looked at her to find her staring at the ground with a huge smile on her face. They walked in silence for a couple of minutes before he heard her clear her throat. "Would you like to have dinner with me, tomorrow."
His step faltered slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair. He looked ahead and could feel her gaze on him as the seconds ticked by. Finally, he opened his mouth and said, "I'm sorry, I can't." He turned to her and could see disappointment settling in her eyes. "I'm leaving tomorrow"
"Oh..."
"Yeah" he nodded, before facing ahead.
That was the moment.
Not a word was shared between them as they reached the inn. He turned towards her and smiled awkwardly. She mirrored his smile but quickly turned her gaze down.
"This is it, I guess" he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
She nodded but remained quiet.
He cleared his throat. "Thank you"
She whipped her head up, her eyes wide and full of innocence.
"For making this trip worthwhile. I'm never going to forget my time here"
Her lips stretched apart of their own accord. "I'm never going to forget you" she whispered.
His jaw tightened and he tilted his head to the side. "Don't" he whispered, eyes pleading with her to stop.
She took a step closer and reached for his arms, closing her hands around his forearms. "Don't you feel anything..." she wiped at her nose. "For me"
He sighed and looked away. This was what he dreaded. He didn't know how to do this; he never did this. He was shit at many things but right at the top was admitting and conveying his feelings. He didn't have that one under his tool belt.
"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't feel the same."
He tore his eyes away from staring at the chimney of the house at the very end of the narrow street and looked at her. He stared deep into her eyes for what felt like hours but in reality, was less than a minute. "I can't"
A dry laugh escaped her lips and her the shadow that had fallen over her face in his silence flew away. She closed the gap between them and hugged him.
His arms involuntarily curled around her waist as she tucked her head under his chin.
He inhaled in her aroma and closed his eyes. She smelled divine.
Minutes passed by and they stayed in the same position.
Eventually, he pulled away and held her at arm's length. The smile slipped away from her mouth at seeing his mournful eyes.
"It doesn't change anything. We can't - I can't -" he let out a frustrated huff and ran a hand through his hair. He shook his head and swiped his tongue over his dry and patched lips. He took a deep breath before settling his gaze back on her. "I'm not what you're looking for...I can't be that person."
Her expression turned defiant, and the fire was back in her eyes. "I'll be the judge of that."
"You don't understand - "
"I understand" she cut him off. "I'm wise enough to know what I want, and I want you."
"Listen to me" he said forcefully, grasping tightly onto her shoulders. "I...I gave my heart away a long time ago" his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. "And I never got it back."
Her eyes turned wide, and he could see the fight leaving her eyes.
God how he hated himself.
"Oh..." she ducked her head to the ground.
She seemed so weak suddenly. He held onto her shoulders in the fear that she might just crumble to the ground if he let go.
A few minutes passed and he is rummaging his brain through to come up with appropriate words. She looked up with a sad smile on her face, eyes glinting in the moonlight.
"I've never felt this way before..." she let out a humorless chuckle. "I was so confident, the fear of rejection never even flashed through my mind...boy do I seem foolish now."
"You're not" he interjected.
"Really" she choked out, lip quivering. "Then why do I feel like one."
"Because you're at your most vulnerable and it's easy to put blame or find any fault when the truth is that it's nobody's fault."
He gazed over her shoulder, his eyes losing their focus.
"Opening your heart to someone takes the utmost courage...and when they don't reciprocate your feelings... it feels like the worst kind of betrayal...even though it's not that person's fault, yet you still hold them accountable for crushing your heart into pieces."
"Is that what happened to you."
Her soft voice cut him deeper than anything since that night.
He was flying through a tunnel, images moving either side of him. It was his memories. He realized his destination and the fear that coursed through him was like no other. He was used to his daily nightmares but this, this specific moment of time haunted him like no other and he very rarely paid it a visit, for whenever it beckoned him or if he was crazy enough to dip his toe inside that pool, the pain it brought was so unimaginable that he rather wish he was dead and now that it was mentioned, it was like the gate had opened and he was being sucked right into it.
It took every ounce of his willpower to pull himself out and when he came back to reality, he found himself lying on the ground with Emma's shocked and scared face hovering right above him.
"Harry! Are you alright! I don't know what happened. You just fell backwards and started shaking."
She pulled him up to a seating position.
He grabbed his head with both hands and waited for the pain to subside.
He tried to get up but kept falling.
"Here, let me help you."
"NO!"
His booming voice echoed in the stillness of the night.
She flinched away and for the first time saw the monster that he was. She was scared. Good. He could drop the act and show his true self. Maybe, he should've taken this route earlier, would've saved both of them a lot of heartache.
He chuckled inwardly. Who was he kidding. He had no heart.
He pulled himself up and spread his arms wide to balance himself.
He turned his head towards her. Her face was ashen white, and fear was still etched all over her face.
"Harry..." she approached him cautiously. "What happened"
He chuckled darkly. "Oh, you mean this. Nothing. You just got to see the real me. The fuck up. The one I've been hiding from you" he shrugged his shoulders. "But I'm afraid the cat's out of the bag now so I'm just gonna go."
He'd only taken couple of steps towards the door when she walked in front of him.
"No, I don't believe that" she put a hand on his chest and glared at him. "You're not a fuck up. You're human, just like me, like everyone else." Her eyes turned soft as her eyes filled up. "We all have our secrets. Yours might me a little different from others but that doesn't make you a fuck up. It just means that you have a much harder life than most and for that, I'm sorry."
"You don't know anything about me" he said in a voice thick with emotion.
"I know that I love you."
He barked a laugh and saw a flash of hurt in her eyes.
"You don't love me" he said all knowingly.
A deep frown came over her lips.
"I do"
Her fierce determination and unwavering belief for her feelings reminded him of someone. Someone who once had the same firm belief in his feelings. Someone he despised more than any other being, and that snapped something in him.
"No, you don't!" He pushed her away. She dropped to the ground and landed heavily on her side.
"Emma, I didn't mean - "He moved to help her but she moved away, staring up at him in disbelief.
"Get away from me"
"Emma - "
"I said get away!" she yelled, before getting up.
His eyes turned wide when he saw that her right arm was bent at an odd angle. She supported it gingerly with her other arm.
Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but he knew it wasn't because of the pain, at least not physical.
"You are your own worst enemy, Harry Potter."
She turned around and ran away.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back.
Harry Potter, the Hero, the Savior. Hah! What a joke.
The door opened behind him, and he looked over his shoulder.
Olivia, the woman who ran the inn, stood at the threshold. She was wearing a nightie and was shivering with her arms around her.
"I heard yelling" she looked around before looking at him. "Everything alright"
He turned his head back forward. "Everything's perfect"
"Well, why don't you come in then unless you plan to freeze to death."
He turned his head, and he could just about spot the top of the roof to the pub. It was the tallest building in the town. He gazed at it for a few seconds. "Goodbye"
He turned around and walked inside. Olivia closed and locked the door before following him.
He was about to head for the staircase when she called out to him "You alright."
He stopped and faced her.
"Seem a little disorientated."
"I'm fine"
"You sure" she said when he was about to turn.
She walked over to him till they were in touching distance, a flirtatious smile on her lips. She stuck her chest out and inadvertently his gaze dropped down. It was see-through, her nightie.
This wasn't the first time she'd tried this tactic. She'd been like this with him the moment she laid eyes on him, and up until now he'd been quite clear in his intentions. He wasn't interested.
It wasn't that he had anything against a one-night stand or a casual fling, his whole adult life was littered with them, and at very short gaps. To him, they were just a means to take care of his needs or salacious urges. He would've taken her upon the offer the morning after his first night but by then his thoughts were devoid of anything or anyone except Emma.
Emma.
Before he could get lost in his thoughts once more a hand on his cheek stopped him.
He blinked his eyes and focused his eyes back on Olivia who had a light furrow in her brow.
"Everything alright, honey"
He nodded. "Yeah, sorry, just blacked out there."
"It's okay" she smiled before grinning. "You know" she moved her hand to his chest and lightly rubbed him. "This is the longest we've talked."
He arched an eyebrow.
"I don't remember me talking."
She giggled. "You're right, woman have needs too and I'm not one for waiting for the guy to make the first move. If I see something I like I go for it"
She was attractive, that was an objective fact, at least in his eyes. Red hair, pale skin, quite tall, almost six feet, curves in all the right places. She was a little older than him, maybe five or ten years. He wasn't sure.
God dammit, his resolve was breaking. Was he that fucked up that after breaking the heart of the woman he actually liked he was going to sleep with another. This was up there, even for him.
As he was fighting this internal battle his gaze kept lower and when he reached her waist, he saw that she wasn't wearing any underwear.
He was no saint. He was no man. Men have morals, they have honor, for others and for themselves. He was a nothing. He couldn't even look himself in the mirror and be proud at the person staring back at him. He was a coward and cowards take the easy route, which was what he was about to do right now.
Two minutes later they stumbled into his room. He kicked the door shut and pressed her against it.
"Oh god, yes!" she moaned as he bent down and hiked her nightie around her waist before shoving his face into her cunt.
For the next two hours they fucked on every possible surface in the room, and it was the best sex he'd ever had.
It was angry, and raw, and unhinged. Her body was battered and bruised; huge red spots pattered all across her skin. That was all him but after he vented out the rage that had been boiling inside him, she took charge and showed him that two could play the game.
She was confident and had the skills to back it up.
The moment she took him in her mouth he nearly came right then but somehow managed to hold it in. Her technique was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. He didn't know the scraping of teeth along sensitive skin could be so pleasurable.
At one point they somehow stumbled into the bathroom, and he ate her out as she braced her hands against the mirror.
Later, she shoved him to the bed and ate his arse while digging her nails into his cheeks. That had been a new experience and not totally unpleasant.
They ended it with her bouncing on top of him while he sucked her tits while her nails scratched his back.
They were asleep seconds after they came, bodies soaked with sweat.
Was it worth it? He asked himself as he stared at her. Damn right it was. Was it right thing to do? He was never good at telling the difference between two. He operated in the middle, the grey area. And as someone once said, he never thought the effect his actions could have. He just did.
But that may as it be he still had to right one wrong.
He walked over to her side of the bed and bent down on one knee. He moved the lock of hair that had fallen over her nose and ran his hand over her shoulder.
Her eyes fluttered open.
"Hey" she croaked, blinking her eyes rapidly. She tried to sit up, but he stopped her.
"Stay."
"Okay" she yawned. Her gaze dropped down to his clothes, and she frowned. "You're leaving" It was a statement.
"Yeah"
She stared at him for a moment before letting out another loud yawn. "Okay" she murmured sleepily.
His mouth quirked at the corner. "I need to ask you something."
"Hmm"
"Where is the hospital"
She opened her eyes and stared at him confusedly.
"What" she looked him over.
"I'm fine"
"Then why - "
"Just tell me."
She stared at him for a moment before saying.
"I haven't seen one" he said.
"That's because it's on the outskirts of the town, near the gas station on the main road. It's a ten-minute drive from here."
"Okay, thanks"
"No problem"
He got up and made his way towards the table. He grabbed his vintage leather bag and pulled the strap over his neck.
"Hey"
He turned around and faced her.
"Thank you"
He frowned.
"It'd had been a long time and it gets lonely in a town like this, especially for someone my age" She ducked her head and for the first time he saw real emotion on her face.
"Hey"
She looked up.
"You were great."
A huge smile spread across her lips.
"You weren't bad yourself, either."
He chuckled, nodded his head, before leaving the room.
He reached the hospital in less than a minute, and it took him another minute to the reach the reception desk.
An old woman was seated on a chair as he approached the desk.
"Yes, how may I help you" she asked politely.
"Umm, I was hoping you could guide me to where Emma Kristiansen is admitted."
"And you are."
There was a beat of silence before he said. "A friend"
He looked around as the typing of the keyboard and the clicking of the mouse filled the air. "Oh yes, I remember her. She came not long ago, a couple of hours maybe. A young man was with her. Poor girl had her arm twisted badly."
"Yes, where can I find her."
"You go down the hall and turn left at the end. It's the third room to your left."
He followed her instruction and walked down the hallway. He turned left and stopped. Lukas, the boy who worked at the pub was dozing off on the bench outside what he presumed the room she was admitted in.
He walked with light feet and seconds later was standing inside the room. He closed the door and turned around. She was sleeping. Her arm was bent over her stomach with a sling around it.
He walked over to the bed and bent down on one knee. He lifted his hand and lightly grazed her cheek.
"I'm sorry" he whispered. "In another lifetime" he murmured with a sad smile.
He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead.
He heard footsteps in the distance and got up. He took out of his wand and pointed it at her arm. "Brackium Emendo"
A soft light emanated from the tip of his wand and her hand glowed blue for a second before returning to its natural color.
The footsteps were getting closer.
"Goodbye"
A second later he was gone.
A/N: Well guys, let me know your thoughts.