Disclaimer: See Ficlet 1.
Author's Note: These ficlets are all what I call Soul-Sucking Angst, after Kaze and Goldy's writing. They're all dark and very depressing. Read at your own discretion. Combined together into this one post, partly because, individually, they're a bit too short and partly to make it easier for you to skip if you don't want to read this depressing stuff. I promise a fluff ficlet will be next to make up for the misery of this post.
This first ficlet was inspired by the absolutely brilliant and wonderful Lori and her equally brilliant, if heart-breaking, AU cookie from her PoU universe, called "Appomattox" (posted at the PoU Yahoo!Group).
The Price You Pay
He hovered outside the window, under his Invisibility Cloak, and just watched her. Watched her smile at her new family, watched her talk to her husband, hug her daughter… Just watched her be happy…
It was the one time, one day every year when he allowed himself to come here and see her, whom he loved and would always love. Her whom he loved more than anything else and for whom he had given his life…
He was an empty shell of a man, his heart and soul deadened to emotion for most of the year, except on this one day, these few moments when he watched her and allowed himself to feel…
And as he watched, he remembered those days before. Those days when he had been truly alive as he wasn't now… Days and nights spent with her…
He remembered the joy and the sorrow and finally the agony of the end… The simple happiness in seeing her every day, the moments of quiet companionship, the passion, the love… Remembered their joy on the birth of their son…
But more than that, he remembered the way she'd cried, convulsive sobs racking her body. Remembered gathering her into his arms, surrounding her body with his as if he could somehow draw out her pain into himself, wishing he could… Trying somehow to comfort her in his own benumbed state of grief, guilt and rage, too deep for words or tears, because even then, the sight of her suffering was the last blow to his heart which he couldn't bear… He heard again her voice saying brokenly, "I'm sorry, Harry. I just can't do this anymore" and saw again the look in her eyes, those windows to her soul, the look which haunted his dreams… Part of his soul had died at that moment, of seeing in her eyes the look of hopes shattered, the anguish of a person who's lost the most precious thing in life to them, but beyond that, the look of a broken spirit. He had known then what he had to do, known that their happiness, their life together, was over-killed with the same breath that had spoken the Curse which had snuffed out the life of their son…
It had been amazingly uncomplicated to perform a Memory Charm to remove her memories of their life together, their son and his loss. Amazing that an act that changed, no, ended his life could have been so relatively simple to perform.
He had done it, felt his heart be ripped out, a large part of his soul dying… But he had done it for her, because he had finally understood after the months of slow devastation, that it was the only way for her to go on living. It was the price he had paid for her to be happy, the price he continued to pay with every day that passed, every day of feeling another fraction of his soul wither away.
And so he watched her from outside her window, his eyes burning with the tears he never shed anymore. Watched her until he turned away, returning to his exile and his curse.
"He has endured much for a lower being," the disembodied voice spoke watching the solitary figure.
"He has sacrificed voluntarily his life and his happiness for the sake of another," another voice replied, the faintest hint of a rebuke in its disembodied tones, "the highest price it is possible to pay for another's happiness. He is not a lower being. He is in his own way, as much a higher being as we. And he will receive his reward in another time."
"So that is what it is to be," the first voice responded.
"Yes, that has already been decided. His love for her, and hers for him, will continue, and receive a new life when their spirits are reborn."
There was no response from the first voice to this declaration. The Higher Power understood. Such occurrences were rare in this human domain which they watched over but they did happen. Two souls, separated in one life and denied the love which was their destiny, were permitted to return, in another form, another time and another place, and given their second chance at happiness. It was the one gift the Higher Powers could give, a reward for a level of sacrifice and a depth of love and purity of feeling not often achieved by humans, lower beings as they were. And this would be granted to this man and the woman he loved so deeply- because he loved her so deeply...
~*~*~*~
Author's Note: For Kaze, as it was inspired by her.
Cold and Blood
She was crying now.
He felt every tear like a stab in the heart. How could he do this to her? And yet he knew he had to. Had known what he had to for the past few months. He just hadn't quite expected it would hurt this much. Hadn't expected her pain to tear at his own heart.
He turned away, closing his eyes, his mind, and his heart to the pleading in her voice.
"Harry, why won't you let me help you?"
"You can't. I don't want you to." He spoke coldly, forcing all emotion out of his voice, somehow knowing his seeming indifference would convince her more than any anger or sorrow. He had to convince her he didn't care. Had to end this friendship, this connection, this feeling that had kept him alive for 5 years now… For her sake. For her safety. He knew it, knew he needed to do this.
But dear Godric, this was killing him!
It had been easier to reject Ron. Easier because Ron's own temper and his little streak of jealousy assisted him making Ron give up easier. He had left furious with him, and Harry knew he wouldn't be back. That had hurt, too, seeing his first friend leave but again, he'd done what he had to do.
Hermione was much harder. It hurt him so much more to see her pain, hurt him so much more to have to reject all her pleadings, her arguments. Her loyalty, her friendship (the two most precious things he had, he suddenly thought- two precious things he couldn't keep) refused to let her simply give up.
He felt cold all over, the cold extending to inside him, coldness in his heart, his mind, his very soul… Cold and dead.
He had turned his back on her, was staring blindly out the windows instead. And he heard her broken sob and the anguish in it tore at him viciously.
A broken sob and then hurried footsteps leaving the room and then the sound of the door being shut with abnormal gentleness that yet rang with finality. Leaving silence behind.
And he broke. Crumpled to the floor, feeling hot tears sting his eyes. Tears which he couldn't allow himself to shed.
The compulsion to run after her, to tell her he'd been lying, was almost overwhelming. He wanted to tell her he needed her, needed her friendship, her affection, her loyalty… Just needed her… Tell her he- he- he loved her…
But he couldn't. He couldn't.
His nails dug into his palms painfully as he cowered there on the floor and he bit his lip to keep from calling her name, bringing her back. Keep himself from screaming out his own suffering, keep himself from making any sound which she might hear and which he knew would still, even after all he'd said and done to her, bring her back to his side. And somehow knowing that nothing he said or did could ever completely destroy the depths of her caring and concern shattered what remained of his heart and soul.
He bit his lip until he tasted the sickly bittersweet tang of his own blood in his mouth. And felt himself die a thousand deaths every minute of her being away from him, every minute of knowing he'd broken her heart, every minute after he'd tried to kill the most precious thing in his life: her friendship.
He shivered. The cold had intensified, not a physical cold but a cold which possessed him. As cold as any Dementor had ever made him feel.
Cold. And the taste of his own blood in his mouth. That was all that was left for him now, until it was all over. Cold and blood.
~*~*~*~
The Red and the Black
Red.
It was over.
She had failed.
It was over.
He was dead. He was dead. He was dead…
She had failed.
Red. Blood. On his face, on his chest and on his hands.
Red staining the ground beneath his body.
She was broken now, on the ground beside his body, her stomach heaving with convulsive sobs, her eyes burning and yet dry. She couldn't cry. This went too deep for tears.
The red of his blood spreading until it mingled with the black of his hair.
Black- the color of his shirt, stained now but still black. Unrelieved by any hint of color.
She felt waves of despair roll over her and simply succumbed to it. She had no strength left, no will. She was empty inside. And all there was, was pain, this endless agony of knowing he was gone. She had failed and he was dead.
Black- the color of her world, her life (if life without him could be called life…) Black. There was no more hope, no more joy. There was only this darkness swallowing her whole.
It was over.