Winter\'s Icy Fingers Creep

Winter’s Icy Fingers Creep

Flora_Winters

I do not own Harry Potter and I’m not making any money here either.

Summary: Harry Potter forswears love and in the process of doing as such, his heart becomes a solid jewel of ice, transforming him into a glacial creature of cruelest beauty. This story will contain boy love, explicit violence, and a strong usage of language.

Chapter One

The news that truly shocks
Is the empty, empty page
While the final rattle rocks
Its empty, empty cage
And I can’t handle this…

--Peter Gabriel

The afternoon was so beautiful. The sun was shining like a golden gemstone and the sky which jealously held it, was a flawless blue. There wasn’t a fluffy, white cloud in sight.

Salty tears kept dripping from his chin. A warm wind blew through his hair, but he didn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel it. There was nothing left to feel. He couldn’t even smell the white rose he was holding in his hands. The world was such an empty, useless thing now.

He could not take his puffy eyes off the silver casket that would soon be laid to rest in the cold vaults of the earth. The one he would forever love and grieve was resting inside, within shimmering silk and lace.

The casket was covered in white roses. He was the last one who needed to put his down. He knew that all eyes were on him. Dumbledore had seen to it. Why were all these people here? They didn’t know Cedric. They didn’t truly know him.

He would never get to gaze into Cedric’s crystal-quartz eyes again, or run his fingers through his soft hair. He would never again feel his body beside him in a warm bed.

Anger flooded him. It was frigid and heartless. It should be snowing. The whole world should be dying right along with his heart. All should know and tremble in the face of his excruciating pain.

He cursed the sun he could no longer walk under with Cedric. He cursed the warmth he could no longer share with Cedric. He cursed the colorful flowers he could now longer sleep among with Cedric. He cursed, and he cursed, and he cursed them all.

All he could feel was a deep hatred for everything, because he had nothing. Why were others free to have family? Why were others free to love and keep it forever?

“Cedric will forever be in our hearts,” he heard Dumbledore continue to say.

He ignored him. What use did he have for a heart now? He was never going to use it again. It hurt too much. He should simply carve the organ out and bury it along with the man it would forever belong to.

He could sense Ron and Hermione on either side of him. He wished they would just go away. They could give him no comfort, for there was none to be had. Nothing would ever give him comfort again.

He kissed his rose and placed it gently where Cedric’s feet were resting within the closed casket. He felt a hand on each shoulder and he trembled under them.

Cedric was truly gone. He was never coming back. He would never again walk around a corner and bump into him. He would never be able to poke him in the nose for being an idiot, or jump on his broad back to tickle him senseless. Those strong arms would never again embrace him with such loving warmth.

He wrapped his trembling arms around himself, curing love. He cursed it for being weak. He cursed it for always being taken away from him.

“Come on, Harry,” Ron whispered from his right.

Harry wanted to punch him in the face, breaking it. He wanted him kneeling at his feet, bloodied, and begging him to excuse his stupidity.

At least Hermione was smart. She always was. She knew when to keep her damn mouth shut because he knew, that she knew, that she could do nothing for him.

“Remember Cedric,” Dumbledore said, causing Harry to wish he had his wand. But, the old man had taken it from him. It had to do with something about not trusting his actions. “Remember this brave, young man.”

Harry could hear the sudden whispers. They were all around him, scratching, and stabbing at him.

He carefully placed his pale hands on the casket, closing his eyes against the raging flood. He tried to calm his breathing and he couldn’t do it. He was too hurt. He was too angry. He wished he were frozen.

You left me all alone, Cedric. And I hate you for it so much.

He opened his eyes, letting the tears fall as they pleased. It was like they were burning him.

I told you to run! I begged you to get away! Why didn’t you fucking listen to me? You promised, goddamn it!

He fell to his knees. Some people gasped as petals fell around him like snow.

You promised you would never leave me! You lied to me! You fucking lied to me, Cedric! How could you?

He tore at the fallen roses with uncontrollable rage. The thorns bit into him, cutting him deep. His blood painted those petals crimson.

He couldn’t scream out loud. He couldn’t even talk. Dumbledore had taken his voice away. All he could do was silently scream in his mind.

The professor has been afraid that he would say something painful in the moment that he would not be able to take back later. Mouths had a way of wagging in ways they shouldn’t. Plus, the paper would have a field day with crazy Potter’s meltdown.

He cursed them. He cursed them all for being so damn stupid. Voldemort was back, murdered Cedric, and tortured him for spite. And all these fools wanted to know was how many fucking tears he was going to cry!

“Harry,” Hermione whispered in concern. “You’re hurting yourself.”

I hate you! I fucking hate you! How could you leave me? Why? Cedric!

Ron pulled him back and Harry didn’t even fight him. His hands were scratched, torn, and bleeding all to hell. He couldn’t even feel it.

“Harry?” A mournful voice asked.

He turned his face, looking. It was Cedric’s mother.

His eyes widened in horror. No! He couldn’t look at her. Her son was dead because of him. It was his fault. It was his fucking fault.

She carefully knelt down, and Harry’s face suddenly stung. The slap echoed all around. She had slapped him.

There were gasps and Dumbledore was pulling her away with Mr. Diggory’s help. The woman was wild in her fury.

“My baby is dead!” She cried. Harry could see the ever-mounting grief and rage in her eyes. “My son is dead because of who you are, Harry Potter!”

Harry suddenly felt all the coldness in the world and between the burning stars in the heavens. It chilled him down to the very marrow in his bones. It felt like ice-water was flowing through his frosted veins.

He was swept up into someone’s arms and swiftly carried off before he could process what was happening to him. He could smell cinnamon and fresh fallen snow.

Cedric, I love you…

~*~

Charlie was sitting by the bed, watching Harry sleep. His chest was slowly rising up and down. He slept so silently. It was kind of spooky.

He had to stun Harry in order for Madam Pomfrey to give him a sleeping-draught. He had been afraid Harry would hurt himself or one of them otherwise. The poor kid was a mental mess.

His skin was pale and his unruly hair, dark. Those lips of his were so very, very red. They reminded him of blood. If his eyes had been blue, he would have been a boy Snow White.

Madam Pomfrey was bandaging Harry’s scraped hands again with such tender care. She kept shaking her head every now and then, muttering under her breath in silent tones. He couldn’t understand what she was saying, and he was wondering what she was thinking.

“Poor boy,” she whispered, finishing with the bandages, blowing a loose lock of hair from out of her face. “Poor, poor child.”

Charlie looked away from the two. He could only imagine the pain Harry must be feeling.

When he had swooped in, picking Harry up, he had never seen such a tragic look on a young man’s face in all his life. He had felt like the breath had been squeezed from his lungs. It was terrible to think, but death would have been more merciful than what Mrs. Diggory had done and said in her grief. You just didn’t speak to a brokenhearted, fourteen-year old like that.

Professor Dumbledore was still standing at the foot of the bed. He had such a mournful look in his un-twinkling, blue eyes. He was taking slow breaths, and his mouth kept looking like it were about to say something at any second, but kept hesitating.

Ron and Hermione had been here, but they had been sent away to pack their things. The train home for the summer would be leaving the day after tomorrow. It would be a long, silent trip. Parents were already storming the school, removing their children because of Dumbledore’s very public announcement of Voldemort’s return.

“I would forever appreciate if you would stay with Harry tonight, Charlie,” Dumbledore said, looking right at him. His eyes were so sad. “I keep thinking that he will try and hurt himself should he be left to his own devices.”

Charlie nodded his head. Of course he would stay with Harry. How could he not? It was the least he could do for the shattered teen. Harry was family. Plus, his mother would beat him with a frying-pan.

Dumbledore softly smiled. “Thank you.”

Charlie watched him slowly leave the room. Dumbledore actually looked and moved like an old man. It was frightening.

“I will bring you some tea, Mr. Weasley,” Madam Pomfrey said, covering Harry back up, gently tucking him in. He looked so snug.

“Thanks,” he told her, watching her sweep from the room. She looked so very tired. It had been a very, very long school year. But, it felt like the summer was going to be even longer.

He turned back to the sleeping beauty and frowned. Harry had lost his parents to the Dark Lord and now he had lost his boyfriend to the evil wizard as well. He couldn’t even bring himself to imagine the terrors Harry must have went through when the cup had transported him and Cedric away from the school. He was surprised the boy was actually able to keep his eyes open without screaming in horrors.

Harry made a soft noise in his sleep. It sounded like a gentle whimper. His unlined face held no emotion. Had he imagined it? It had been such a quiet sound.

“Can you feel the cold?” A frosty whisper asked from beside him.

He turned with a start. It was Moaning Myrtle. What was she doing here? She rarely ever left the privacy of her bathroom.

He shook his head. “No.”

Her moonstone colored eyes turned on him. It was so eerie, he shivered. Her silver face was filled with a terrible sadness.

“You will,” she silently sobbed, descending down, vanishing through the stone floor in deathly silence.

He blinked several times. What in the hell had that been about? It looked like those stories about her were still true. She was moaning mad.

Madam Pomfrey came back in, carrying a tray with tea and sweets on it. She placed it down on the small table beside him, pouring him a steamy cup of amber warmth.

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the porcelain teacup from her. The fresh brew smelled and tasted wonderful.

She bid him a kind goodnight, told him to shout should he need her, took one last look at Harry, and left the room for the night. He hoped he wouldn’t need her. He silently prayed that Harry would sleep peacefully through the night.

“Goodnight, Harry,” he said, putting his cup back down on the painted tray. “I wish you happy, tranquil, and healing dreams.”

He summoned a book to read and made himself as comfortable as he was going to get on the bed beside Harry. He smiled at the young man and began to read.

To Be Continued…