My Past Will Always Catch Up

Title: My Past Will Always Catch up
Author: Allanasha Ke Kiri
Summary: After the deaths of both Ron and Hermione in their seventh year, Harry ran. The pressure was too much; they thought he’d be back, after he realized they needed him. But he never returned, just ran and hid in the one place he was sure no one would look for him.
Rating: M
Warnings: Sexual content


Chapter 2


Consciousness does not come smoothly. It is not a gentle transition. When I wake, my eyes snap open and I feel my body jerking into a seated position. My eyes, calm in a way I shouldn’t be, flickered around my surroundings. I could not see much. It was much too dark for that. There was no light, no window. I didn’t know how big my cell was, for what else could it be, or in which direction the door (or bars) would be. I had no choice but to sit and wait.

Unable to just keep myself still, my hands slid along the ground near me, searching. Perhaps they had left me my bag; my wand. If that was the case, I could get a light, escape … run, hide again. I still wanted nothing to do with the war, for either side.

I didn’t know who it was that found me, or why I still breathed. Perhaps they thought me a muggle. If that were the case, then I knew who it was who had found me, and had no hope that I would be amongst the living for long.

My eyes closed, and there was not much difference from when they were open. My bag was missing, not that I’d had much hope for it. No, not matter the side; they would not have allowed me the bag. Too much of a possibility that there was a weapon within it.

I’d expected this day to be met with fear, worry, but all I felt was relief. I couldn’t explain it, but it was what I felt. After so long running and hiding … was it possible I had wanted to be found, caught? It didn’t seem likely. Perhaps they would come for me soon, and I wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. I felt what I felt, though it was a strange feeling for my last few moments.

My hand rose to my forehead, happy to feel that my scar was still covered. If they thought me a muggle, even one that looked like Harry Potter, I would die a muggle. If they knew me for who I’d been, my torment would be so much more.

I do not know how long I was kept there, in the dark. No food was brought, no light was given. I had nothing with which to pass the time, but it couldn’t have been more than a day, for I felt no urge to sleep. When the door finally opened, my eyes were forced shut from the sudden flow of light. My hand rose, trying in vain to block out some of it.

I heard voices, but they were too low to be understood. By the time my eyes were growing accustomed, the two figures in the doorway were silent, staring at me. I recognized neither of them. Not that I could see anything but shadows. The light was behind them, hiding everything. We were all silent for a long while, all of us probably waiting for the other to say something. I gazed up at them from my seated position, wondering if worry shined in my eyes. A normal person would be after all, but mine never showed my emotions.

“Where am I?” I ask, finally, my voice even. I still cannot manage to sound something I am not.

“Get up,” the one to the right demanded, pointing his wand at me.

I blink at it, frowning, as if I don’t understand the significance. If they haven’t checked my bag, they don’t know I’m a wizard. Smoothly, I rise to my feet. Dueling had not given me that grace; that had been my dancing. The men looked startled, as if they had expected me to scramble inelegantly. They had obviously never been to the club. There was nothing inelegant about me these days. I’d made sure of that. No matter where I was, I oozed sex. I wasn’t even sure I could turn it off anymore.

“Get over here,” the first told me.

I didn’t obey immediately, giving myself time to brush off my hands and smooth out my clothing. He’d begun to growl out his order again just as I began to move. Slow, purposeful, graceful. My walk was as it always was, or had been for the past few years; meant to bring their thoughts to something else. Something savage and primitive.

The second grabbed my arm as soon as I got within range, making my arm twitch at the unwelcome touch. The man chuckled jerking me out of the cell, obviously hoping to catch me off balance. It didn’t work. While my pace was forced to be quicker than what it normally was, I didn’t stumble. I stopped when I could, and turned, raising an eyebrow at him. He didn’t look happy with me.

I still didn’t recognize him, not passed the significant ‘he’s a Death Eater’. And I knew I was going to die.

They dragged me up the corridor, not allowing me time to look around. Not that I expected to recognize my surroundings. Despite their many attempts, I never once lost my footing, or stumbled. This only seemed to enrage them further, but I saw no point in purposefully tripping just to make them happy.

We passed few on our way up. I’d been kept underground, it would seem, not that I had thought it was anything else. Some I recognized, most I didn’t. They only confirmed what I’d already known. Death Eaters. I was going to die this day. How only depended on whether I could convince them I was just a normal muggle.

I knew we were nearing our destination when my scar burned, though nothing showed on my face. I couldn’t allow it.

The doors opened before we got there and I was dragged through the doors. I heard them close behind me. Trapped. I stumbled when shoved, this time my captor released me, allowing me to fall to my knees, my hands catching me so I wouldn’t go any farther. I held myself there for a moment, breathing deep before looking up. Directly in front of me, on his throne, was Voldemort.

His looks had changed over the years. His hair had grown back, lips had filled out. Even his nose seemed to have returned, if only slightly. There wasn’t a lot to it, but he did look more human than the last time I’d laid eyes on him. That was a relief, I wouldn’t have to pretend to be horrified.

I pulled back, brushing my hands on my pants.

“Harry Potter, so good of you to join us,” he hissed, red eyes narrowing at me.

I blinked, a frown pulling at my lips. Without replying, I pushed myself up to my feet, once again smoothing out my clothes.

“The name’s Raven,” I said, calmly, my eyes taking in the rest of the room. There were several others present. Besides the two I didn’t recognize, I knew them all. They were the ones I’d fought against during my youth.

It feels wrong to say that ‘during my youth’. I’m not that old right now, just 22, definitely too young to be saying things like that. But it was the truth.

My eyes revealed nothing as I glanced them over, once again turning my gaze to Voldemort, who was frowning at me. He stood from his throne (not so smoothly as I had, I noted with a certain amount of smugness), and stepped towards me. He still seemed to glide over the ground, something I’d learned to do not long ago.

“Yes, I’ve been told of that. An interesting spot you hid yourself in.”

My frown deepened. “I didn’t hide myself anywhere.”

A lie, I knew, but my voice didn’t betray me. I’d gotten better at it over the years.

Voldemort continued to approach, stopping just in front of me. I refused to flinch as the pain in my scar grew.

“Come now, Harry,” Voldemort all but purred, I don’t think I’d ever heard him purr before. “You can’t fool us.”

I frowned, allowing myself to take a step back, something I (as Harry) would never have allowed myself to do. But I wasn’t Harry here, and I didn’t have to foolishly prove I was worth anything. I didn’t care.

Voldemort’s arm shot out, gripping mine, thankfully over cloth, and drawing me closer to him once more. My frown deepened, my eyes flashing with my displeasure.

“Are you afraid, Potter?” he hissed, obviously enjoying the thought.

“No,” I answered, voice calm. “Disgusted and wanting to get back to work.”

The Dark Lord sneered, shoving me away from him. “Crucio!”

I stumbled backwards and went down, a scream on my lips. I didn’t even try to fight it as the pain washed over me. That was something Harry would do, and I was just a muggle. My body arched, completely of its own accord. Perhaps it was trying to alleviate some of the pain. It didn’t work. It never did. Finally, the spell was raised, and I was left on the ground, breathing heavily. I was still. Still and silent on the ground, waiting, trying to catch my breath and hoping my shaking would stop soon.

I heard, rather than saw, Voldemort circle me. I felt his eyes on me, dissecting me, trying to figure out why I didn’t fight.

My tongue darted out, licking my bottom lip. My eyes didn’t have to open to know that every eye was on me.

“What … the fuck, was that?” I ask, my eyes finally opening, landing on Voldemort. I didn’t try to put any fear in my eyes. It wouldn’t work; at least, I didn’t think it would work. They were always blank, except for when I’m on stage. And somehow, I didn’t think that look would serve me well here.

The man’s eyes were thoughtful as he eyed me. I shifted, rising myself up onto one elbow, still staring into the man’s red eyes. He let me, without a word. And then … then I felt it, the familiar brush of his mind against mine. I didn’t put up any defense, I couldn’t. In the distance, I heard myself scream as he shoved his way in.

--MEMORIES--

“What’s you’re name, kid?” he asked, eying me.

“… Raven.”

He leaned forward, placing his hands on the table before him. “Well, Raven, I don’t normally hire someone so young. What makes you think you can cut it?”

Sitting in front of his desk, I shrugged. “It’s easier to show than to tell,” The voice was calm, uncaring.

--

“Just once,” The man whispered, voice slurred. “I’d give you a fortune to have you under me, Raven.”

“I don’t take customers.”

--

“What’s your name?” The voice was gentle, as she placed a hand over my head.

I shrugged, not answering.

--

“What about Raven? It’s not much, but it’s something to call you.”

I shrugged. “Alright.”

The woman smiled at me, eyes lighting up.

--

“She’s dead, son.”

“No. She can’t be,” I whispered, almost brokenly.

“You her kid?”

I shook my head. “No … Just someone she took care of.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shrugged, eyes blanking.

--

Finally, the images stopped, leaving me to fall back, attempting to stop the pain in my head. He’d dug through every memory of the past five years, but hadn’t found anything else. Distantly, I was relieved I’d hidden them well enough.

His hand was in my hair, jerking my head back. I could do nothing but stare up at him as his hand rose and calmly wiped the make-up from my scar. This time, I couldn’t help the hiss of pain as his flesh touched mine.

I was done for.

As soon as Voldemort released me, I turned my head away, holding a hand to it. I’d forgotten just how much it hurt to have him touch me. I expected another crucio, or something equally as bad, something designed to make me scream, but nothing came. And after a moment, I found my head rising, eyes narrowed, glancing back up at Voldemort.

He still looked at me thoughtfully, a scheming look just behind that.

“You don’t remember, do you?” His voice was back to a purr, one that had my eyes narrowing at him farther. “You don’t.”

His lips twisted into a smirk as he rose, sweeping away from me. I watched him go a moment before pushing myself back up into a seated position, debating the merits of standing again. While it would give me a little more dignity, it would just be a farther distance for me to fall when I got cursed.

“Stand up, Harry,” he said, his tone different than before, though I couldn’t quite understand it.

My lips pulled down into a frown, but after a moment of silence, during which Voldemort stared at me, I stood. He blinked, surprise flickering through his eyes as I literally flowed into a standing position. I’d done it last time, but this one seemed to get a greater reaction. I’d just been crucio’d, had my mind ripped through, and been put through his painful touch, they hadn’t expected me to be able to do it again. They didn’t expect me to have a high pain tolerance.

Then, his lips pulled into an approving smile, one I’m sure every obedient little Death Eater rolled over just to see. Lucky me, I got it just from standing up … oh dear, I think I’m being sarcastic.

“It would appear,” Voldemort said, turning from me to look at his followers. “That our Harry-“

::Our Harry?:: I couldn’t help but think. ::Since when am I your Harry?:: The thought amused me, for some strange reason. I noticed that several of the Death Eaters looked confused as well.

“Didn’t run away, didn’t run from his lord’s displeasure-“

::The fuck?::

“He simply forgot.” He turned back to me. “Though one must wonder how it is he forgot.”

I just blinked at him. He approached me again, reaching out a hand to touch me, but this time I felt very justified in stepping back. I had no desire to feel that burning pain again, and I highly doubt any muggle … or amnesiac wizard (as it seemed I’d suddenly become) would feel any different.

--------

...

Right, so I tell you not to expect frequent updates, then I give you another chapter within a week of the prologue and the first chapter. *sighs* It would seem that my muse has decided it likes this. It wants to right it, and I'm doing my darndest to stay in the right frame of mind to do justice to the plot ... or at least the tone I've created.

Question:

Would people like to see someting other that Harry's POV? Like third person from someone else or something? I'm not sure if I can do a first person for someone else, but I can try if someone wants it. Or would you rather everything just be in Harry's first person POV?

Also, If you want me to e-mail you updates, please give me an e-mail address that actually works.

Mrequeky, the one you gave me wont work. Is there a different one I can use?

Allanasha Ke Kiri