Low Man Is Due

Hiya,



Aufie - Hello and thanks for reading! Of course I\'ll add you to the update list!



Jilliane - quit NAGGING!



SP



Chapter seven:

So as I write to you

Of what is done and to do

Maybe you\'ll understand

And won\'t cry for this man

\'Cause low man is due



I don’t know why I just let him leave. Maybe surprise just held me still whilst he knocked on the door and was whisked away by the Aurors. They all glared at me as if I had somehow hurt him. Me? Hurt him?



If they had had a way of seeing into the cold lump that serves as my heart they would have found it charred and cracked from his words. He loved me. And I never knew.



If screaming could have made me feel better, I would have screamed. But it wouldn’t have, and, anyway, I find I still have a vestige of pride left. Merlin knows how given my life recently.



I sat down and wrote him a letter as soon as he’d gone. All the things I should have said after that little announcement were scribed. I even convinced one Auror to have it sent to Harry, seeing as he’d already contacted me. I was warned, most carefully, that if Harry complained, I’d be sent to Azkaban. I took the risk. What else could I do?



What did I have left to lose?







Dear Harry,



I really don’t know how to begin this, so I shall have to ramble a little, and hopefully will at some point find a way to begin. I apologise for this poor start but saying what you said really threw me. I wanted to speak, but you left so quickly that I couldn’t find the words, and now my mind seethes with regret. (Ah, I appear to have found a way to begin.)



I cannot begin to assess just when it was that you felt as deeply as you claimed for me. Certainly, during your last year at school I never received the sense that your emotions towards me were anything other than the loathing and hatred that had always existed.



And, during your capture, I never felt that you were pleased or relieved to see me; that my presence gave you comfort. But perhaps your affection faded with your capture.



I hate that I had a chance with you and ruined it. It hurts that I never knew that I had a chance with you – that a time had come for us and that I let it slip by, wasted. Worse, that I, myself, destroyed that feeling.



I understand why you used the past tense for that statement, and not the present. I just wish I knew at what precise moment I killed your feelings. No, I don’t wish to know that, as I am sure I already know, and cannot bear the thought that what I thought I most wanted with you – the physical – is what obliterated what I now realise I truly wanted with you – your regard, your affection, your love.



And to know when it was that I slaughtered us will haunt me forever. If you wish to hurt me, more than Azkaban could ever do, tell me the exact moment your feelings changed from the present to the past. For now I am only speculating, and my ideas are hurtful I admit, but knowing would hurt far more. In fact, ‘hurt’ is not a strong enough word for how I would feel.



So, if you wish to harm me, really harm me for my actions towards you over the years, and during that day, tell me. I will face my own destruction if you wish to destroy me. That is your power over me, and I find I like the thought of my life – for I would die if I ever knew – my life, Harry, being in your hands.



Perhaps this seems out of character for the man who had sex with you against your will and is odd for the man you knew as your teacher, but I have never been good at losing what I perceive as mine, and the loss of you has been more than I can bear. It is more to me than the loss of my life.



I look back and evaluate my life and find that being cold and unpleasant did what it was meant to do – pushed people away. And now I am alone, wishing I had had the courage to… not seize that which I wanted, but certainly to test the waters. I am suddenly seeing that I have squandered my life. Wrong decisions have littered it, drawn me away from happiness, and I cannot find it in me to value myself.



Loneliness is a terrible thing, Harry. It warps you and makes you bitter. But worse, far worse, is regret.



I could have acted earlier. I should have acted earlier and saved you, but I wanted the physical too much and broke you, and broke that feeling in you.



Regret is a terrible thing, Harry. I regret never telling you the truth. If I had been less selfish and acted sooner perhaps I could have had everything I ever wanted.



I think I must be losing my mind. A small price to pay for losing your heart. When did it happen? When?



No, don’t tell me.



The saddest two words in our language, Harry? “If only…”



If only I had been honest with you when you were in school.



If only you had told me how you felt.



If only you hadn’t been captured.



If only I had had the courage to fight the Dark Lord.



If only I had allowed you to be rescued before I touched you.



If only you still loved me.



If only I didn’t love you.