Chapter Fifteen
Harry lived his next days in a trance. He had hoped that by coming here that his visions and memories would decrease, allowing him to finally feel human once again. The exact opposite had happened. His visions of Voldemort grew ever stronger and crueler. It was as though Voldemort were trying to torture him, as if he knew their connection, which Harry was still certain he did not.
He had been coping before. He had found a way to live in this world without anybody by his side, especially Draco. He had been doing just fine until that night at the manor. Ever since that night, Harry's memories, his feelings for the blond man had been creeping up on him, barraging him with their intensity at the most inopportune moments. He couldn't figure out how to push them back anymore, the harder he tried, the harder they pushed back.
He went to work, went to the bar, went home. There was nothing in between, it was that simple. Even Lorraine was keeping her distance from him now. He smirked bitterly. Good. Better for her to be disappointed now rather than later.
There was no logical reason for him to still be conscious. He barely ate, he never slept and he drank like a man dying of thirst. He sat in front of his television, staring blankly at the salt and pepper screen, his cable had been disconnected days ago. The black and white fuzz gave him some comfort, the white noise drowning out some of his milder thoughts. Of course it didn't keep away the ones he was trying to get rid of, but nothing would.
He picked up the long hunting knife that sat on the table and twirled it absently between his fingers, rotating the handle end as he held the point to the index finger of his other hand. He didn't flinch, or even seem to notice, when the tip bit into his finger and small drops of blood began to seep out of his finger.
Harry couldn't remember the last time he had been so injury free. It had been weeks since his last major wound had healed. And what he found, was that he had taken some pleasure out of being wounded. It had given him the real, tangible feeling that he was alive. He could feel like he was surviving.
His eyes travelled to the knife in his hands and locked on to it's shiny, silver blade. He saw the blood flowing from his finger, already beginning to clot. He could feel the tingle in the tip of his finger where his nerves were trying to send signals of pain to his brain, only his brain would not receive them. Harry laughed. No pain. What he wouldn't give to feel pain right now.
He gripped the handle of the knife tightly in his hand, his mind slowly pondering his own options. Flickering light from the fire in the fireplace threw light bouncing off the knife and onto Harry's face, clouding it in shadow.
He extended the arm which didn't hold the knife and clenched his fist hard, the veins popping out of his forearm. He moved the knife so the cold, metal blade was pressed against the veins, the steel making an indent in his skin. Only a little more pressure and the skin would break, and he would feel.
His hand gripped tighter around the handle, prepared to give it just a tad more force, when those familiar grey eyes forced themselves into his line of vision, breaking his stupor.
Harry shot up from his seat, kicking the coffee table to the floor and throwing the knife harshly to the ground. "Fuck!" He scrubbed his hands across his face and through his hair, brushing away the wetness that had settled around his eyes. He hadn't realized he was crying.
He had to get out of there. He couldn't stay in this room, not anymore, not tonight.
His body swayed and his vision blurred as he staggered across the room, picking up a leather jacket and putting it on. He stormed out the door, slamming it shut behind him.
The night was bitterly cold. There would be snow in the next few weeks. Harry's breath clouded out in front of him, as white as a snowdrift. He didn't feel the cold. Freezing rain fell, on the verge of slush, soaking him in minutes. He slowly walked around the town, not paying any attention to anything around him.
What caught his attention was not the flickering light, or the change in temperature, or even the sirens that blared past him. What Harry noticed first was the sound, the high pitched cracking that could only belong to a building engulfed in flames.
His senses seemed to return to him in that instant, the hyper-awareness almost causing him to vomit. The burning building had awakened something in him, something he'd been trying to claw out of the depths for weeks.
He jogged up to the perimeter that the fire department had set up as they set up their trucks, attaching the hoses to fire hydrants. The house was completely consumed. Neighbours stood huddled on the street, blankets wrapped tightly around them. They were all supporting one another. One woman stood apart from the others, her hand to her mouth in shock, panic stricken across her face. This was her home.
"Please!" She screamed towards the firemen. "Please, my daughter's still inside!"
One of the firemen went to her side to calm her. It seemed they had already spoken about this. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, it's just too dangerous. The entire structure is engulfed. There is no way for us to get in. The whole building could collapse at any second."
A piercing scream resonated from inside the building, and the mother gave a cry of equal despair, collapsing to her knees on the hard, wet pavement.
The sound of the scream triggered something in Harry. The world around him shifted, he was being thrown into one of his memories.
His eyes travelled around the room methodically, making absolutely sure there was nothing to catch him off guard. Off in the far corner, his gaze locked onto a set of icy blue eyes belonging to a blonde little girl. She was wailing in terror.
Nobody in the room seemed to be paying her any attention, all eyes were locked on him. 'This is your one chance!' Harry thought to himself. 'Ignore her! He's standing right in front of you! This is the man who ruined your life!'
He pulled himself out. No! He was not there anymore!
The fire glowed bright in his eyes, and without thought or explanation, he vaulted himself over the barricade and sprinted towards the house, drop-kicking the door as he approached it.
He covered his face as the heat and smoke trapped behind the door rushed forwards to meet him with the introduction of fresh air. He could hear the firemen hollering at him, but he did not pause, he did not stop. He pushed forwards into the burning building, unsure of any reason why.
The flames licked up all around him, grazing his skin once or twice.
Hot, orange and yellow flames licked out from the heavy tapestries and oil paintings that lined the stone and wood panelled walls. Everything was on fire. Paintings wailed as their frames were engulfed, there was nowhere for them to go.
"No!" Harry actually shouted out loud, grasping his forehead. Memories, visions of the night at Malfoy Manor assaulted him, and he was quickly unable to separate the past from reality. The two scenes melded together, he didn't know which landscape was true, which route to follow.
He turned a corner and stood in front of a staircase, which had yet to be touched by the flames. the air was choking around him and he cast a quick bubble head charm on himself, but it wouldn't last for long, the oxygen wouldn't last.
The two staircases merged together in front of him and he bounded up, taking two steps at a time.
Voices assaulted him from all around. The cackle of Voldemort rose highest above them all, distracting Harry, haunting him.
"You're not here!" Harry called out, his voice cracking as he yelled at nothing, his voice barely carrying over the crackle of the flames.
He heard a scream rise above all other sounds, but couldn't tell whether it was from his memory or if it was coming from inside the house.
He stumbled around, desperate to find the answer.
The scream pierced through the air again, louder this time, closer. It was coming from inside the house.
He raced down the hallway towards the sound of the scream. The ceiling was starting to fall apart over his head, chunks of burning drywall and blown insulation falling all around him. Bits of the floor cracked and fell out from underneath him as he stepped on it.
He struggled to right himself as his leg fell down a hole in the floor. He swore he heard something snap, but couldn't feel any pain. He surged ahead.
He opened the door to the only shut room in the house and closed it again once he entered. This room, so far, was untouched, but not for long, the fire was reaching its crisis.
This room had to be the source of the screams, but at first Harry didn't see anyone. It was dark in this room, no outside light entered.
Something shifted in the corner and Harry caught sight of a teenage girl, huddled in the corner, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her head snapped up at the sound of him entering the room. She looked at him in shock.
"Help me!" she cried.
Harry lunged towards her and seconds later part of the roof collapsed behind him, blocking their only exit save for the window. Harry crouched down beside her.
"Are you all right?" he practically yelled above the deafening roar of the flames.
She nodded her head in response.
"We have to go out the window. Do you trust me?"
Again she nodded, too scared to respond with words.
"Put your arms around my neck and you legs around my waist. I need to keep my hands free."
Though 17 years old, it was a good thing this girl was small compared to Harry, or else the situation would have been a lot more difficult.
Realizing that there was nothing to lose, Harry shattered the window with a spell. This whole situation was turning out to be frighteningly similar to his previous fire-rescue encounter. Seeing nothing outside the window to take hold on, Harry had no choice, he had to jump. "Hold on tight and just trust me."
Without waiting for a response, Harry flung the both of them out the window. Fortunately, the bedroom was at the front of the house and the ground below was covered in grass. The yard was also slightly raised, making it a little closer to the ground.
The group of people watching from below gasped in fright as the two figures burst out the window.
Harry pulled the girl as close to him as he could and tucked his shoulder under him, preparing to roll to his feet as soon as he hit the ground. They both hit with a resounding thunk. The frozen ground had been harder than Harry had anticipated and the impact winded him. The girl was unharmed, though it took her a few seconds to register what had just happened, before getting up.
She clambered to her feet and almost instantly went to her knees again as she realized that her rescuer was not moving.
It was dark. Harry sat up and looked around. There was nothing. Just black, and yet he could see the hand he held up in front of his face. No source of light, but he could see. The smell of smoke filled his senses, and there was a soft murmur of voices in the background, though he could not tell what they were saying or who they were. All of a sudden, a figure appeared before him. As if a bright light was shining from behind him, Harry could only see the silhouette of this person. "Wake up Harry." The figure said.
"Who's there?" Harry asked shakily.
"You have to wake up."
That voice…. There was something about it…. Something Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. Harry felt himself being tugged back to reality.
"Who are you?!" Harry demanded.
The figure extended his graceful arm and placed his hand on Harry's chest. Harry could still not see who it was.
"I'm in here." The figure said softly.
The tug of reality pulled even harder on Harry. He didn't want to leave. Who was this person?
"Wake up, Harry." The figure pushed Harry gently and he felt himself drifting away from him.
The figure turned away and the last thing Harry saw before he awoke, was a startling shimmer of stormy grey eyes. "Come home..."
"Draco…." Harry whispered.
Harry's eyes sprung open and he sat up with a jolt. He felt a hand on his shoulder trying to push him back down.
"Don't move too fast, Damien, you had quite a fall."
Harry looked up at who was speaking to him and saw a very worried, and yet very relieved, Lorri. He could see dingy white walls behind her that immediately reminded him of the time he had spent in the Hogwarts infirmary.
"Whe… where am I?" Harry asked groggily.
"The hospital, hun. You fractured your ankle when you fell."
Harry looked around and confirmed that he was, indeed, in a hospital. He was lost in thought when he realized that Lorri had said something.
"Sorry, what did you say?" He lay back down flat, he had become dizzy. He draped his arm over his eyes.
"Who is he?" Lorri asked again, waiting expectantly for an answer to a question that Harry did not understand.
"What? Who is who?" Harry asked confusedly.
"Draco. You said his name just before you woke up."
Harry's eyes went wide. He'd said Draco's name out loud? "I don't know what you're talking about, Lorraine? I didn't say anyone's name." Harry averted his eyes from hers. He knew she would get her answer if she continued to pester him. His latest vision of Draco had him feeling like he didn't want to fight anymore, couldn't handle the lies anymore.
Lorri shook her head. "Never mind. I guess I was just hearing things." She paused. "The girl's fine, you know. Alexis, the one you saved."
Lorri had expected Harry to brighten at this news, but it only managed to darken his mood.
'Great.' Harry thought darkly. 'Like I needed something else to make me an outcast here. I wonder how fast it'll take the town to change their tune about me. Typical. Stupid fucking hero complex, why couldn't I have just-'
Lorri did not know what to say. The man in front of her didn't seem to care. He seemed to be off in a world all his own.
"I'll leave you alone for a while, hun, you seem to need to think about some things." She patted his shoulder and stood.
She was right. He did.
Harry was released from hospital the next day, without crutches thanks to his insistence that it was nothing and he'd had a lot worse, and went straight home.
Left at home to recover his fractured ankle, Harry became bored insanely quickly and had taken to practising his sword forms in his living room.
Clad in only his dragon-hide pants, sweat beading down his chest, Harry was pushing himself harder than he ever had. It kept his thoughts away. For weeks he had been clawing through his mind, desperate to feel anything. Since he had seen Draco in his dreams last night, something had awakened in him and he was feeling too much, it was overwhelming him.
His technique was flawless, and so was his body, as was apparent to Alexis as she walked into his house completely unannounced. She stood, stunned, for a moment as she gazed at the man in front of her. He moved so gracefully with each swing of the blade, yet with deadly precision enough to turn her blood cold. Halfway through his next swing, Harry spoke. "Well, are you just going to stand there all day?" He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes.
Alexis was caught off guard. How had he known she was here? He had been facing away from her and she was sure she hadn't made a sound.
"I… I'm sorry… I didn't mean to intrude… I just wanted to…"
Harry leaned the sword up against the wall next to him and faced the startled girl. He pulled on a black t-shirt, covering the scars she had taken to staring at, and made his way to the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of something from a glass bottle, washing down a little white pill he had received from the hospital for the pain in his ankle. "You just wanted to….?" Harry prompted her to finish.
"Oh… I just wanted to thank you for saving me. I don't know how to thank you enough." Alexis was blushing furiously, trying not to look like a fool.
"Don't. I don't need your thanks." Harry said emotionlessly.
"Isn't your ankle broken? How come you're walking on it? Didn't you have a cast? I saw you when you were still unconscious. By the time I went back you were-"
"It's fine." He growled at her. Her incessant talking was giving him a headache and he took another sip from his glass.
Alexis stayed silent, unsure of what to say.
"Well, you said your thanks. Don't you think you should leave now?"
Alexis' face contorted in anger. "You are the rudest person I've ever met in my entire life! I came over here to thank you for saving my life, and you throw it in my face as if it was selfish of me that you came and saved me."
"Actually, you came over here unannounced, let yourself in without my permission, interrupted my training and tried to thank me for saving you from a situation that you very well could have gotten yourself out of. Now, I would appreciate it if you left my house!"
"Why couldn't you have just let me die then! If other lives mean so little to you, why did it matter to you that I be saved? Why come to save me if you didn't care? I should have died! That's why I set the fire in the first place. Nobody cared. Just like you, nobody cared if I lived or died." Harry's face went blank, the comment on the tip of his tongue lost forever. "I was ready to die in there. But then you showed up. I was so happy in that instant because I thought that somebody might actually care what happens to me for once. I'm not thanking you for saving me from the fire. I'm thanking you for saving me from myself."
Harry was at a loss for words.
"You know how I feel, don't you… like you're obligated to the world to be something you aren't. To pretend you're happy, when really, you're only living to survive." A single tear rolled down Alexis' cheek. "That's why you left London, isn't it? Everyone talks about you! I've heard the rumours, but I never-" she asked quietly.
Harry's face turned dark. "Get out." He growled. Alexis didn't move. "I said get out!" he screamed and threw the glass he was holding. It smashed on the wall mere feet away from where the now terrified girl was standing. She turned and bolted out of the kitchen and ran as fast as she could out of the house.
Harry sank into a kitchen chair as soon as the terrified teen was out of sight, and for the first time since he last saw Draco, he cried, really, truly cried.