A/N: This is the second chapter released today. Just a heads up. First chapter released was 4.
Chapter 5
Hate Me and Break Me,
As Long as You Stay with Me.
"I think that went well; don't you agree?" Emily cheery voice ground against Harry's building headache as he laid down on the only bed in the room.
"How, in any capacity, do you measure that outcome as 'well'? You almost torched Paris." Harry had brought them back to the coast of France, where they broke into a muggle's vacation home. Fortunately, no one was there, and the home held more than enough to fulfill their basic needs. He could skip over to the local muggle market for a few food items.
"But I didn't. I also showed them that, you and I, we're a force to be reckoned with. They won't play games with us anymore. Even Grindlewald himself just stood there and let us go."
Harry scoffed. "Let us go? He had to clean up your mess. He had other priorities."
"Oh, come on Harry. You heard the man. He hopes to see me again. He's clearly noticed me." She sounded extremely pleased that the man wanted something of her. Harry didn't particularly like her tone. It was giddy, and the Harry wondered just how tempted she might be by an offer from the Dark Wizard.
Harry carefully picked out his next words. "Did you catch the last thing he said before we apparated? I couldn't make it out."
"How do you expect me to have heard that, Harry? You grabbed me by the waist and apparated us with no warning. I wasn't even looking at him. But he knows me, Harry. By name. The most powerful wizard in the world knows me by name. And he wants to talk to me. Ugh, I'm just so excited."
"Don't be daft, Emily. Of course, the most powerful wizard in the world knows you by name. He teaches Transfiguration at Hogwarts. Grindlewald doesn't measure up to Dumbledore. Though it's a close call."
Emily scoffed. "Oh please. Albus Dumbledore is a coward. He can't even face Grindlewald despite half of Europe begging for his help."
"Good to know that some things never change." His muttering was picked up by Emily's ears, but she didn't care enough to think about the meaning. Harry was glad that there was some part of the woman he recognized from the future. He was starting to think there was almost no comparison between Voldemort and Emily Riddle. He could never have expected Emily to beg him for help in stopping her spell like she had back in Paris. But her disdain for Dumbledore clearly remained steadfast and strong, and he doubted the two would ever get along.
"So... about that Maledict Draught. What are you really going to use it for?" Her question was one he'd been dreading. He wondered if she'd accuse him of wanting to hurt her. After all, there was precious little one could use a Maledict Draught for, and the last thing that would come to one's mind would be the removal of the trace.
"I'll do it, you know. If that's what you want me to." When Harry felt the weight of the bed shift and heard Emily's words, he opened his eyes to find her face next to his own. Though he found her far too close for comfort, her intense gaze held him captive.
"I don't care if it's dangerous, or even if it might kill me. I'll remove the curse from you. I promise." Once again, her expression caused a lot of mixed emotions to run rampant in his heart. The tenderness and love on her face made his stomach churn, though Harry wasn't sure from what. While Harry did want Emily to see him as family, it was clear that she had latched onto him with a fervor that was borderline obsession. And from her actions in Paris, it was clear that she'd do anything, kill anyone, just for him. Was his goal even possible? Could Emily Riddle be saved from herself? Her original incarnation became a monster due to her family's abandonment. Was the second doomed to become a monster for her love of family?
Turning to his side to face her better, he whispered to her, "Emily, I know you think it's your duty as my family to keep me safe. I get it, I feel the same way about you." At this he pulled himself up and off of the bed and took off his shirt. With a slight wave of his wand, he canceled the charms that concealed the marks covering his body.
The light that entered from the window of the bedroom illuminated his torso and Emily let out a choked gasp. Harry's chest was coated with scars. Very unique scars. Shaped like the maws of a monster... a werewolf.
"I was bitten by a werewolf a year and a half ago. Well, let's be honest, I was mauled by a pack sent to kill me. I would've died, Emily. My body was too weak to survive the curse. I'd lost too much blood and even the silver and dittany salve couldn't close the wounds for long. I had hours, at most."
Emily sat up on the bed and was staring, almost in a trance, at the scars covering him. "It was my godfather, who saved me. He knew about the Maledict Draught, and he knew its side effects." Harry gave a short laugh. "He was just like you. He knew he'd die, but that didn't stop him. There was just one problem, he wasn't you, Emily. He didn't have the raw power he needed to rip out the curse. Not alone."
Harry sighed, before explaining to her, "Emily, you could never understand how I feel about certain things. So many people have died for me. Too many died because of me. And the last ones to do so, were my godfather and his best friend, Remus. Remus also had the curse, having been bitten as a child, and the two of them hoped that when my curse rebounded, Remus could absorb the backlash without harm. It was the kind of idea only two fools with no other option could come up with. A shot in the dark, it would have never worked."
"When the curse broke free of my body, the magic lashed out at both myself and my godfather. Remus, redirected the magic aimed at my godfather to himself, and my godfather threw his own body on top of me to keep me safe. My godfather died immediately. But as the curse passed through his body and back into me, it was torn apart by his magic. He wanted to protect me so much, at any cost, that his own magic attacked the curse and left his body vulnerable. When the curse got back to me, it was so weak that I don't even transform into a beast at the full moon. As for Remus, the curse magnified his own, and he was changed irreversibly into the beast. He became just like the ones that attacked us yesterday."
Emily made a move to approach him, but he held up his hand, letting her know he wasn't done. "You have to understand, Emily, before I'd lost consciousness, I'd been fighting for my life against werewolves. So, when I regained consciousness hours later to find one in the room with me, I didn't hesitate. I killed it immediately, even though it made no move to harm me. It was only minutes later that I found the letter my godfather had written to me. Just in case things went wrong. And I realized that not only had the last family I had given his life to protect me, but I had also just killed his best friend, as well as a friend of mine, with my own wand."
Harry put his shirt back on and then slowly sat back down on the bed. "The reason I didn't care about the werewolf biting me, Emily, is because I am immune to the lycanthropy curse. Or rather, I already have the curse, but it's not strong enough to affect me. I have nothing to fear from the bite of a werewolf other than the pain."
Harry put his elbows on his legs and leaned forward as he sat, resting his head on his own entwined hands. Looking to the girl beside him, he told her the most important thing he needed her to understand. "I don't want anyone else to die for me Emily. Especially not you. I need you to be safe. I need you to be happy. Don't throw those things away for me, Emily. I couldn't handle it if I lost you too."
Harry found that his words, though slightly exaggerated, were true. He didn't think he could handle it if Emily lost her way because of him, or even worse, if she died. Somehow, someway, he found that he'd become just as obsessed with her as she had become of him. Thankfully he didn't express this through mass murder as she did.
Twenty minutes later and Harry was seated in a comfortable armchair as he watched Emily sleep in the bed. Once her adrenaline had died down, her magical exhaustion hit her like a truck. The past two days had been more than hectic for the two of them, but the burden Emily, and by extension her magic, had taken recently was immense. Not only had she expended a large portion of magic that brought him here, two days later she performed a spell that would have probably destroyed an entire city. He wouldn't have been shocked if she stayed out for a solid twenty-four hours at this rate.
Things didn't seem to be too dire, for now. While he and Emily might face some opposition from Grindlewald in the future, it was clear that, for now, all the man wanted to do was talk. And it certainly seemed like the man was going to be patient enough to allow them to approach him on their own terms. But Harry knew he couldn't dawdle too long. Grindlewald would soon start to lose ground, and once that started, Harry knew he'd be much more forceful about getting to Emily. Harry was aware of Grindlewald's search for a weapon. He knew the man had been trying for years to locate and tame the power of an obscurial. Dumbledore had told him that much. But now that his time was drawing short, why try and tame the wild force of a living entity of magic, when he had a witch close by that shared his ideals. One whose power was unmatched. One who he could manipulate and use against his enemies.
There was no question to whether he could allow Emily to meet with the man again. Grindlewald knew his real name, and there was no telling what else the man knew, being one of the most powerful seers the world had ever known. Though he knew he'd gained as much of Emily trust as possible, there was always the slim chance she would turn on him and become the Dark Lord Voldemort again. He'd take the time Grindlewald had spared them to let Emily recoup before moving forward with his plans to go to Russia. Getting beyond Grindlewald's long reach was the priority, even if Russia presented its own dangers.
Emily slept for sixteen hours before waking up. Her mood was atrocious and abrasive, so Harry figured the girl was starving. Settling the woman at the home's kitchen table, Harry got to work, cooking up a large breakfast meal.
"You're rather skilled in a muggle kitchen."
Harry nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, I've spent some time in these. When you strike out on your own, you got to learn how to feed yourself. I used to loathe cooking." Harry paused in his task of whisking a few eggs and gave her a warm smile. "But it can be a soothing process when I do it for... family." The irony of his own statement wasn't lost on him, seeing as he hated cooking for his family, but he suddenly found himself lacking for words.
Indeed, Harry detested cooking for the majority of his life, it being a reminder of his time with his muggle family. He'd been manning the stove since he'd been big enough to lift a frying pan. Which was probably not the safest duty for a child, but he certainly knew his way around a kitchen as an adult.
Emily returned his smile and even gave a small laugh making Harry's smile grow even larger. After a while, Harry had whipped up a hearty breakfast, and Emily wasted no time in devouring everything she could. She even went so far as to eye his sausages, and Harry sighed before forking them onto her plate. He'd live, and she certainly acted as though she would not if he'd refused her.
"Hmm, that was wonderful. Puts the feasts at Hogwarts to shame."
While Harry knew he was quite the adept hand in the kitchen, he doubted his fare matched that of the Hogwart's elves. The compliment, however, was appreciated and he made no attempt to say otherwise.
"So... what are you making for dinner?" Her follow up made him groan. Where did she even put it all?
"Are you still hungry? You'll get fat if you keep eating like that."
She just shrugged while leaning her chair back on its hind legs. "Perhaps. But it will be your fault."
"How on earth is it my fault that you can't help but shovel food into your face?"
She tilted her head to the side and blatantly refused to look him in the eye. "I'm not the one who put those extra sausages on my plate."
Laughing openly, he responded, "Well, you sure as hell acted like if I didn't, you'd bite off my arm and chew on that instead."
Emily let her chair fall forward and the legs made a bang as the chair settled. With a look of mock indignation she gasped, "I'd never. You would taste awful, being so undercooked and whatnot."
"Yes, because the temperature of the meat is the most important subject matter... when discussing cannibalism. You're wise beyond your years, Emily Riddle." Harry's sarcasm made her laugh and Harry was glad to see that her happiness was genuine. Clearly, he hadn't fouled anything up too badly, yet.
"So... we need to talk, Emily." His serious voice made her smile fall, but Harry didn't want to put off the conversation any longer. "What happened back in Paris. The fire... You can't do that again."
Emily stood up in a flash and slammed both of her hands down onto the table. "I will too. I won't just let people tear us apart. I'm strong. I'm POWERFUL, Harry. I can make them do what I want. I can hurt them. I can-"
"You can shut up." Wandlessly, Harry silenced her. Wandless magic was notoriously difficult, but when you got into as many scuffles as he did, it paid to have a couple tricks up your sleeve. And silencing a witch or wizard really limited what they could do with a wand. The spell had saved his life on more than one occasion.
"Listen to what you're saying Emily. Just because your strong, you can make people do things against their will? 'Might Makes Right' huh? Tell me, Emily, which one of us would win in a fight against the other?" When she didn't immediately gesture her answer, instead choosing to glower at him, he grew agitated. Which caused his petty streak to come out. "Don't worry, you can just point."
She glared at him, but eventually she did point to him. She'd lost the two fights they'd had before, so it made sense that she'd pick him, but Harry knew that wouldn't always be the case. Emily was still very inexperienced; she'd get better at dueling the more she fought.
"So, I can make you do things? Is that what you're saying?" Harry knew he was about to start playing a dangerous game, but he needed to get this through her head.
When Emily nodded her assent, Harry knew it had more to do with the fact that she'd do anything he said, regardless of their strength difference. It was completely unrelated to their discussion. But Harry could certainly make it relevant, by forcing her to do something she would never, ever do otherwise.
Harry summoned a knife from the kitchen, the largest one there. It was sharp, clearly used to slice into meat and it suited Harry's needs perfectly. Emily looked calm as though there was nothing Harry could order her to do that would make her hesitate. He wondered if she'd even flinch if he told her to carve his name into her own skin if he asked her to.
"Imperio." Feeling the magic leave his wand, Harry's stomach turned. He detested the Imperius Curse. It was, in his opinion, the worst of the unforgivables. Killing and torture were terrible acts, there was no debate there, but stealing someone free will was the most taboo act Harry could imagine. But Harry came from a time of war, and he learned to ignore his morals for... the Greater Good.
The smile that bloomed on Emily's face due to the curse's euphoria did give him slight pause. Could he really do this to her? What if what he was about to do, hurt her instead of helped her? Who was he kidding, what he was going to make her do would certainly be agonizing. Clenching his eyes, he shook his head violently. But no matter how much he cleared his mind; the silent small voice of a young Dumbledore spoke in his mind.
For the greater good, Gellert. It was a memory that, some days, he wished his mentor hadn't shown him. It made him question his own actions, made him wonder just how self-serving he really was. How much of this was Harry doing to help Emily? And how much of it was the small part of him that still wanted to punish her?
"Pick up the knife, Emily." There was no pause in her actions and Harry felt no resistance when she grabbed the knife from the table.
"Run the blade across your hand, lightly. Feel the sharpness." Again, there was no pause, and she gently ran the tip of the knife across her palm. It was irritating, the ease with which she allowed him control. He didn't want her too deep in the ecstasy of the curse, otherwise he'd find himself in trouble. The thin red line that appeared from the shallow cut made things extremely real for him, however. He felt his body recoil in disgust and revulsion. He was hurting her again. He was causing her pain. He was killing her, wrapping his hands around her thro-
"Argh!" Harry shouted, whipping his head from side to side violently, pulling himself from the memories of her murder. He had to do this. had to push further. She needed this. It was a dose of realism that could change her for the better.
"Come here." She walked to him, would have run, had the short distance been any longer. She looked at him, gazing at him in adoration as blood fell in slow droplets to the floor from her hand.
"Now cut me!" Harry's will slammed down onto her consciousness with like a herd of stampeding hippogriffs and before her mind could register her action, the silver edge of the blade flew through the air digging into the flesh of his cheek and sinking into the bone of his upper jaw. Other than the force pushing his head backwards, Harry gave no indication of pain other than a hiss and a grimace. It hurt, but he'd felt far worse at this woman's hands.
Emily, on the other hand, immediately tumbled backwards, letting go of the knife. Harry felt her resisting the magic he'd placed on her, but her attempts were so abrupt she had no idea where to start, so she just pushed at his hold. But if there was something Harry knew he could match Emily in, it was will power. The knife, sticking out of his face, succumbed to the pull of gravity after a moment and fell to the floor.
"Pick it up." Gone were the fluid motions of someone eager to please. She scrambled around on the floor picking up the knife, but also began to crawl away from him. As she slowly inched away from him, he could only just make out the words she was whispering.
"Im sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." She repeated the apology over and over. Her voice was so faint, but it was a frantic, breathless and unending whisper.
"Get up and get back here." She stood ramrod straight so quickly that Harry feared she'd topple over. He watched as she took unsteady steps to him and the blissful look on her face was long gone. She was pale as a sheet and clearly terrified as she stopped inches from him. Her words were clearer now, and they were more varied.
"I'm sorry. Won't do it again. I'm sorry. Please stop. I'm sorry..."
"Stab me, right here." Harry placed two fingers on his chest, about an inch diagonally away from his heart. "Don't fight me, Emily. You could miss and stab me in the heart."It was a dangerous game, and he was foolishly staking his life. Briefly, he wondered if he was more a monster now than she would ever be in the future, but her jerky motions didn't give him time to indulge in that line of questioning.
Emily fought; he knew she would. Her shaky grasp was erratic as she pulled back the knife. Right as she swung towards him, her grip stilled, and she completely relinquished control to his orders. The blade sunk in between two ribs, right into the area where Harry had pointed. This time, it was him who stumbled backwards and fell. He gasped loudly at the pain. It was intense, and he spent several seconds writhing on the floor as he forced the pain from his mind. He succeeded just in time as Emily relaunched her efforts to break the curse after a few moments, and Harry had to mentally crush her back down to maintain control. He was soon to lose, however. The incredible pain was distracting him, and his magic was waning.
Harry knew that she'd fight him ferociously if she was forced to hurt him. But he could make her do it. Hurting him was something she was capable of, just as he could force himself to hurt her, as he was doing now. But there was one action that he truly believed they were both incapable of. Something that would allow her to break away from the horrible situation she found herself in.
"Now kill me." His words were choked out, but Harry gave everything he had in reinforcing his spell on her, not even bothering to pick himself up off the floor. His effort was meaningless as he knew it would be. She could never follow that order. But he wanted her to fight tooth and nail. She shrieked and wailed with such ear-peircing volume that Harry feared she might draw attention, but he kept pushing at her. He watched as she weaved both hands into her hair to alternate between pulling violently at the strands and compressing her grip onto her head with every ounce of force she could muster. Moments later, Harry lost consciousness.
When Harry came to, he winced at the sharp pain in his side. With a gasp of pain, he looked down to see his shoddily bandaged side, blood slowly spreading under the white wraps. The sound of his voice caused running footsteps and Emily burst into the room with a wild look on her face.
Standing in the doorway, panting, Emily seemed to gather her wits and calmed down.
"You... are such an asshole, Harry." Her words were strong, though her voice shook, and tears swam in her eyes. "What... what if I had... had killed you?"
"Then you'd be really pissed at yourself for not paying more attention to your healing charms in fifth year.
Harry hoisted himself up in the bed he'd been placed in when a grimace. He'd instructed her to stab him in the safest area he could think of. The area to the lower left of the heart didn't have a whole lot going on, though a perforated diaphragm certainly hurt like hell. Looking around for his wand, he noticed it on the nightstand. Though he wanted to answer her, he really needed to heal his wound. How was it that a sixth year didn't know how to cast a mending charm? After a quick patch job on himself, he breathed easier thank to the lack of pain.
"Emily." He motioned for her to sit on the bed with him and she did so, warily looking at his wand. "If you thought, for even a moment that my life was in any actual danger, then you don't have a fraction of the faith in yourself that I have in you. I knew that you'd tear through the Imperius like wet parchment if I gave you the order to kill me."
He watched as she grumbled incoherently at him. Knowing that his actions wouldn't be so easily smoothed over, he decided to ignore them to focus on their outcome.
"Do you understand what I was saying before? After having it done to you. Yes, you are powerful, Emily. So much stronger than me, than even Grindlewald himself. And your power will only grow as you get older." Emily nodded but stayed quiet. Harry began to ponder what he could say to move the conversation along before finally asking a question so common, he hoped she'd be able to answer.
"What do you want Emily?"
"I'm sorry?" Her confusion was understandable. He'd switched topics very suddenly on her.
"What do you want? If you could make one request of the universe and receive it, what would it be?"
Emily was silent for a bit, which was unusual considering the nature of the question. "If you'd asked me a week ago, it would have been for my father. I knew my mother didn't love me. I figured my father just didn't even know I was alive. But after what you and even my uncle said about him, I wouldn't ask for that now."
She sighed heavily. "I've always been alone, Harry. No one has ever stayed, friend or family. I know why. I'm not stupid. I'm... sick. I've always been sick. I like hurting people. It's... addicting. Even if I know it isn't right. I can't stop, and when I was younger, I wasn't smart enough to hide it well. No one wanted to be friends with the girl who'd sooner break their bones than give them a hug."
"It got better after I met Professor Dumbledore. He set me straight a bit, even scared me knowing the things I did but never told anyone. For the first two years of my schooling, he was my idol." This bit of news completely baffled Harry's expectations. "He was strong, he was smart, and he had magic, just like me. Even when he punished me for stealing or beating up an older student, he would smile at me and tell me that I could be better. He was everything I imagined a father to be. He was the first, and for the longest time, the only person I ever respected."
"In my third year, I came up with a brilliant plan. I was going to be perfect. I would ace every exam. Turn in all my assignments. I swore I wouldn't even bully the house elves, much less the other students. And at the end of the year, when I had proven to Dumbledore that I was better than I had been, I would ask him to adopt me." Harry listened as she laughed, and the sound was haunting. It was hollow, self-deprecating.
"Like your godfather's plan, mine was a foolish dream that never would've happened. Just the fanciful imagination of a young girl. But I was determined. I knew that I could do it, that I could become a daughter that he wanted. Someone he could be proud of. Someone worthy of every kind thing he'd ever said to me."
"Everything went according to plan. After the first two months of term, he called me into his office and told me how happy he was that he hadn't received a single complaint about me from the staff or other students. At the time, all I did was pat myself on the back. I never questioned why a professor, who wasn't even my head of house, followed my actions so closely. In my mind, it was because he cared. It was because he recognized that I was different, that I was better. That I was special."
Emily let out a shaky sigh. "The only thing I was, was stupid. Right before the winter break started, I stumbled on a few of my housemates harassing a female Hufflepuff. I didn't even know the girl's name. But I knew Macmillan and Burke. Macmillan was an idiot, but he'd sleep with any girl that would spread her legs, even if she needed some persuasion. Burke was slimeball and greedy as could be. A couple sickles and he'd do just about anything you asked. I called them out and told them to leave the girl alone. Even as a third year, I had quite the reputation. Burke took off as soon as I spoke, but Macmillan... Macmillan thought he was a competent wizard." Emily laughed at the memory and Harry hoped one day that he got the chance to see it in a pensieve.
"But I knew my rules, I didn't strike him first. I goaded him into cursing me, and then beat the tar out of him. I figured that the Hufflepuff would back me up and Dumbledore would praise me for protecting her. For being a good girl."
"Turns out that my deed as a good Samaritan did not go unpunished. In my second year, I was saddled with two weeks of detention with the groundskeeper for castrating Charlus Potter. He thought it would be good fun to pick on the 'Muggle Slytherin'. I cut his bits off with a smile. Turns out that he'd been dating the Hufflepuff girl on and off for years and they were even engaged. She didn't vouch for me, and Burke claimed to Slughorn that he 'witnessed' my attack on Macmillan. Dumbledore arrived, having heard that I'd been involved in an incident, and I turned to the man I thought would be in my corner. I looked Dumbledore straight in the eye and I told him they were lying."
Emily's smile reflected the confidence that she'd once had in Harry's mentor. "He stood up and asked for Professor Slughorn to have a word with him in private. I felt so certain, Harry. So certain that he'd pull through for me. I really believed that. A few minutes later, the two of them come back and Dumbledore just... excuses himself from the room. Doesn't even look at me. My head of house gives me a week of detention and sends me out."
"Emily..." A small part of Harry wanted to defend his old headmaster. Neither of them knew what Dumbledore had told Professor Slughorn. But Dumbledore had known Horace Slughorn for a very long time, long enough that he'd be aware how Slughorn would respond to the situation.
Horace Slughorn, while a Slytherin, was easily one of the most complicated people Harry knew. He'd sooner run off and hide at the signs of danger, but he'd be the first man to hex someone trying to hurt a student. He fawned over his extensive social network and made exquisite use of it to bolster it further. Slughorn loved to power he held by associating himself with others. The man was cunning, determined, and intelligent. He embodied every single aspect that a Slytherin should. But the man could love more than almost any human being was capable of doing. He doubted Slughorn would've punished Emily for little to no reason. So, it made sense to assume that his headmaster had not vouched for her.
Harry was fully aware of the clandestine conversation that Emily held with the professor two months previously. The one involving splitting her soul and placing them into objects. The one involving not only creating a horcrux but creating multiple ones. In his previous timeline, Harry and Dumbledore had been under the impression that Myrtle's death had been utilized to create her first horcrux. Clearly, this had not been the case as when Harry arrived at this moment of the past, it was clear that Emily had no such intention to do so.
"He abandoned me, Harry. He betrayed me, and he couldn't even be bothered to look me in the eye when he left. I hated them both for that. Anyway, the whole point of this story was to tell you, the only thing I want, is a family, Harry. I'd wish to not be alone. But I have you now, so I don't really know what I'd wish for. Maybe for us to go back to Hogwarts. Maybe for Myrtle to have never been in that bathroom right before you showed up." Emily sighed, and Harry wondered if she was being honest. Then again, it had not been so long ago for him, that he'd desired the very same thing. Family.
"Slughorn earned my forgiveness. He took me under his wing. Invited me to his little get-togethers, even taught me things beyond the Hogwarts curriculum. Important things." Emily's voice had gotten almost imperceptible there, and Harry figured now was as good a time as any to dive into Voldemort's most egregious crimes. What had started out as a conversation about what Emily should do with her immense power, and how she should use it responsibly was morphing into something very different.
"I'd wager. Detailed information on horcruxes is extremely hard to come by. Tell me, Emily. How many have you made?"
It was, perhaps, a testament to the strength of their relationship that Emily did not immediately lash out at him. Her horcruxes were her most guarded possession and secret as far as he knew. But knowing what she'd been up to, learning the exact details of the young woman before him were important, so he had to be willing to pry. He had to take the risk. The only way to help her, was to know how far she down the wrong path she'd traveled.
It took her several moments to respond as she'd been completely taken back by his knowledge of her taboo queries and actions. She'd been certain that even Slughorn didn't remember their conversation well enough, the forgetfulness potion she'd slipped into his drink having obscured that night heavily for him.
"One."
Harry nodded. This didn't particularly surprise him, though he wondered who her victim was. How was it that the young woman who'd been breaking down over the death of Moaning Myrtle had also consciously killed someone in cold blood?
"I'd wager you created it recently? Very recently?"
When a choaked sob escaped from her throat, Harry was alarmed. But she did nod her head in response to his question. How could she be so emotional about this? How was she feeling remorse?
"Please don't hate me, Harry."
It was times like this where Harry sincerely wished he could embrace her. Harry wasn't good with physical comfort in the first place, considering his rearing, but touching Emily was still only possible for him to do in the most extreme situation. He didn't even bother trying, in case she noticed the movement and got the wrong idea when he failed to do so.
"Don't worry about it, Emily. Anything you did before we met is water under the bridge. I'll make sure you never have to do things like that ever again. Have some faith in me, and we'll get through..."
She'd been shaking her head for several seconds before he trailed off. There was something he was missing here. "It happened two days ago, Harry."
Almost immediately, Harry began going over recent events. Harry had met Emily on the night of thirteenth. Today was the sixteenth. There was not a single moment when Emily had left his si-.
"What happened with Morfin while I was gone, Emily?"
At this, Emily launched herself to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his midsection as she sobbed into his chest. It was a bad move for him. Harry wanted to pry her away, shove her towards the bed where she'd not fall over, but doing that now... he couldn't bring himself to be so cruel. Forcing himself to stand completely still, he raised his arms up and just surrendered to her need for the comfort that his closeness could provide.
Emily didn't seem to notice as she immediately began to explain herself. "He was lying to me, Harry. He kept saying you weren't our family. He kept insulting me because of my muggle heritage. Kept telling me that I was nothing. Then he told me we had to kill you. I couldn't do it; I couldn't handle it anymore. I... I killed him. I didn't regret it, either. He wanted to hurt you, and I had to stop him. I hated him so much in that moment. So, after I killed him... I put a part of my soul in here." At this, Emily retrieved something from her pocket and Harry recognized the resurrection stone that she thrust into his face. The Gaunt family ring.
For the second time in as many hours, two hallows were now facing one another. Harry, who had all three hallows in his possession, as he always did in his timeline, felt his own stone grow blisteringly hot in the lining of his cloak at the nearness of Emily's. Emily clearly felt something from her end as well, as she quickly dropped the ring to the floor with a yelp. Harry stood quickly to see if she was okay.
"What was that?"
Scrambling for a passable explanation, Harry calmly spouted out some bullshit. "With Morfin's death, the ring probably recognized me as the head of our family, what with your mother and you being disowned. I guess it burned you because it wanted me to be in possession of it. Just, keep it from being too close to me and you should be fine."
Emily nodded, seeming to accept his words. "Are you sure that you don't want to wear it though? I mean, you are the head of our family now, right?"
"Yeah, but considering what it is to you, you should probably keep hold of it. Keep it safe at all times, and such."
Without missing a beat, she held it out to him. Once again the ring grew hot, but this time she let it lay in her palm and the heat started blistering her skin immediately. Even with a pained grimace of her face, she let it lay there and said, "It would be safe with you, Harry. I want you to hold onto it for me. Please. Keep me safe?"
As the pink flesh of her hand began to darken further, Harry snatched the adornment out of her hand before it could harm her more. He'd rather it burn his flesh than hers. "You could've just levitated it, Emily. There was no need for you to do all that."
"You really are the head of our family, I guess. It's not burning you." Sure enough, she was right. He'd been more concerned about her that he didn't even realize the ring felt cool to his touch. What Emily didn't realize that though the ring certainly recognized him, it did not recognize his heritage to the Slytherin line. The stone recognized him as its master, same as the other deathly artifacts in his possession.
Moving them towards the window of the room for light, Harry gave her a small smile as he healed the burn on her hand. "Don't tell me that was another test to see if I was really your family, was it?"
Emily shook her head. "Not hardly. I just wanted to see if there was any of the Gaunts left. I guess, we are the only two left if you're recognized as the head."
Emily slowly backed away from him, and Harry watched her apprehensively. Something was strange, something about her movements. But he couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was. As she languidly laid back down onto the bed, she asked him one question. A question that Harry would only later come to realize had been the origin of where everything had gone wrong.
"Tell me, Harry. Is my dirty blood really such a terrible thing? Am I worthless because of it?"
It was in this one moment that Harry Potter had a rare break in his role of Harry Gaunt. This one moment where all of his lies crashed around him and set everything ablaze. In his haste to offer words that could soothe her pained soul, the only comfort he could find himself capable of giving her, he made a single misstep.
"Only to purebloods." Emily went silent and Harry misunderstood her silence to mean she was appeased with his answer. He was completely oblivious to the fact that he'd misspoken. To her, he was a pureblood. And in truth, to Emily, he was the only pureblood that mattered. Emily's failure to respond was not because she was at peace. She did not respond because that was the moment that the cracks that barely held Emily Riddle together shifted violently. This was the moment that finally broke the iron resolve of Emily Riddle.
Turning away from the only person she needed in this world, Emily allowed her tears to fall from her eyes.
Uncle Morfin was right. To them, I really am... nothing.
Harry's words cut Emily deep. She knew from his tone that the insult wasn't personal. He wasn't being derisive, just simply stating a cold hard fact. But it was as though an unscalable wall had descended between them. There was much that divided the two of them after all. Her blood being one of many things.
But at least now she had her answers. Why he treated her the way he did. Why he refused to touch her. Why he recoiled away from her in disgust whenever she made an attempt to touch him. It all came down to her filthy blood.
I am so much more than nothing, so much more than my muggle heritage. I just need to make him understand that. I have power. I'm smart. I'm beautiful. I will not be tossed aside.
Emily quietly made to dry her tears. Clearly, her blood didn't matter a great deal to Harry. He went out of his way for her, even accompanying her on the lam. He was directing them, though Emily wondered if he was doing the job well. They'd run into several snags, after all. But he was here for her, just... not in a way she needed.
Taking a deep breath, Emily pondered about what she could do to change his view of her. Harry knew her skill and prowess in magic. It didn't seem to faze him. Neither did her proclivity for torture for that matter. She could not approach him as she would someone else. It would take more than charisma and a pretty face to get what she wanted from Harry. What did he value? What did Harry place worth in? Obviously, familial bonds were something he cherished. He'd let her know often enough that he would support protect her. Shaking her head, she made the decision to stop thinking about Harry for the night. It would only lead to her chasing her own thoughts in circles. Harry was here, and that was all that mattered.
Emily rose from the bed and walked to the bathroom. Harry was a light sleeper, but as long as she stayed away from the room he'd commandeered and kept the noise to a minimum, he'd stay asleep. She lightly made her way to the bathroom in the home and turned the light on. Gazing into the mirror, she whispered to herself. "Why was Grindlewald so interested in me?"
She really couldn't fathom the man's reasons. And the queer fellow in the mask made her uncomfortable. She wished that she'd turned at least that one to ash. Removing her shirt, she used magic to fill the bathtub. She wasn't worried about the trace. With them being in another country and Harry being nearby, no one would pick it up. Undressing herself, she lightly ran her fingers down a crescent scar on her collar bone as she lowered herself into the water. Though Emily could freely admit to not finding other humans sexually attractive in a general sense, that did not mean she was unexperienced. Her partners were simply more reluctant.
Perhaps it would be better to say terrified? Either way, the bite had been the only mark she'd ever allowed a partner to leave on her body. At one point, Emily had an honest wondering if she'd enjoy receiving pain as much as she enjoyed giving it. When her partner's teeth had gently sunk into her flesh, she'd broken two of their fingers. The anguish this caused her partner had made their teeth clamp down on the bone. While Emily did find that she did enjoy pain, it paled in comparison to her other vices. She knew immediately after that she was more of a giver, than a receiver.
Emily, now relaxed and alone, allowed herself a moment to indulge her desire. She thought back to her first lover. They had both been in third year. Jason Ilver, a Gryffindor. He'd been her first reality check in her sexual awakening. He'd mouthed off to her one too many times, and he made the mistake of doing it in the back of the library where there had been no witnesses. She hexed him unconscious. Then, her hormonal mind grew curious, and she'd stripped him bare. But there was absolutely nothing about his body that interested her. Not until she made the first cut, at least. Her first time, needless to say, was a one time thing.
Sarah Abbot was in fifth year, when Emily ran into the girl after hours. As a newly elected prefect, Sarah had berated Emily for being out past curfew. Emily would have let it slide had the girl not insisted on escorting her to her common room. It had been far too close to year's end for her to cause trouble, but Emily found herself snapping. A confundus charm coupled with a secluded classroom, and Emily found herself with her second partner. Sarah's body also did nothing for her. But her charm wore off before she could begin experimenting and Emily found her first true love in Sarah Abbot. Or at least, that what she liked to think of it as.
Sarah was a coward. And a screamer. A combination that Emily found intoxicating. The short half hour that Emily shared with the girl was forever imprinted in her memory. There were some questions when the girl was sent to St. Mungo's the next day, but none were directed to her. Emily knew to cover her tracks. Emily repeated this pattern for a year, until the notches under her belt began causing her problems. Only so many students could be sent to the Hospital Wing or St. Mungo's before the professor's started searching for the culprit in earnest.
The meant Emily needed to settle down. And settle down she did. Though it had been a trying process to find Mr. or Ms. Right. But she did eventually find someone who bent for her, broke for her, and bled for her. Emily's hand drifted to the bundle of nerves over her sex as she began thinking of the tears and wails of pain. As she worked herself into a frenzy, the bath water sloshing around her body, Emily found her mind drifting to her latest partner. The first partner that had sought her out, as opposed to the other way around. The one who asked to be cut, to be bled. The first person to give her orders, as sickening as they had been.
And when Emily Riddle finally found herself unraveling at the seams, it was to the image of a bloody, gasping Harry Gaunt.
Taking deep calming breaths, Emily leaned her head over the edge porcelain tub. Her body was still taught, still shaking from her sensual ministrations. Shakily, she pulled herself up and with one hand, wiped clear a large streak from the mirror. Gazing into her own eyes, for the first time, Emily acknowledged the vileness of her desire.
"Disgusting."