Into The Long Dark

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, no chance it will ever be, and I make no money from it....

There are HBP spoliers in this.

Thanks to my Beta, Evil Auntie Snape! And also to Alisanne!

Saturday, 9 August 1997


~~~~~~FIVE~~~~~~~~\"SPLINTERED\"~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Harry watched as McGonagall dragged Neville into the hearth. Neville\'s eye\'s were pleading. Sorry, Harry!

Then, they were both gone in a flash of green flame. As the fire died back down, there was nothing but the crackle and muffled pop of the burning wood. Harry could just make out the sound of doxies on the loose in the parlor.

He could tell by the all-too familiar feeling in his stomach that his attempts to remain composed had failed. Why did she have to mention his name?

He was still standing beside his chair, staring straight ahead, looking at the fire, but not really seeing it. His right hand was resting on the top of the chair, and his left was hidden behind his back, drawn into a tight fist. He couldn\'t see them, but the knuckles were bright white, and his fist was trembling from the force he was exerting on it. He was digging the nails of his fingers into the flesh of his palm, using the pain to keep control.

Don\'t want to, Don\'t want to, Don\'t make me, please......

The knot in his stomach began to expand, and the tremors spread from his arm, spiking through his entire body. Harry gripped the chair even tighter, but it was too late.

The burning in his gut was becoming unbearable, he couldn\'t hold it. His vision was blurring. Blinking furiously, the images erupted, flooding through his mind, washing over and blocking out everything else. Harry couldn\'t stop them.

Voldemort rising out of the cauldron; the basilisk; Sirius on Buckbeak; Quirrell flying at him; Dumbledore and Fawkes; Pettigrew howling in pain; Hermione and Ron held by the Merpeople; the dementor on the train; Ginny lying in the Chamber; Bellatrix laughing madly; Dumbledore smiling; Cedric dead in the graveyard; Sirius laughing with Remus; dementors attacking; Lucius attacking Remus in the Ministry; Sirius falling through the veil; Snape pointing his wand at Dumbledore; the streak of green light, in slow motion striking Dumbledore; the look in Dumbledore\'s eyes as his limp body flies over the balustrade; silently screaming for it to stop! Unable to move! Stop! Stop! Make it...

\"STOP!\" Harry was yelling; \"Stop!\" He had stopped trembling, but his palm was now bleeding.

Why do I have to remember? Why? \"Fuck! FUCK!\"

He could feel it, the searing tightness in his stomach, growing larger, hotter, moving into his chest, expanding, getting tighter, demanding release, more pressure, pushing upwards, it was getting out!

It started as a low moan deep inside, and as It rose up and out of him, It grew louder and stronger, the moan escalating to a wail as It threatened to explode in his chest, bursting in his throat, trying to get out, seeking release.

The scream finally escaped Harry\'s lips, and it kept coming, and coming, and coming, no end in sight to the disgorgement of pain that was pouring out of him. His eyes watering and nearly blinded, his throat rapidly becoming a raw hole, the scream kept coming. No words, none possible, just the raw, terribleness of his pain made tangible.

And still it came out of him. Harry grabbed the chair with both hands, and raising it high above his head, brought it down upon the table in a splintering crash. He clutched another chair, sweeping it across the tabletop, scattering the crockery and other items there across the kitchen. Then, flinging the chair in a high arc, he launched it to sail into the shelves over the sink, causing an explosion of shattering china and pottery as one of the shelves fell from the wall.

As some tiny shards of dinnerware bounced off of his face, Harry became aware that the scream had ended. As his chest heaved up and down, there was no sound but the rasp of his aching throat.

Turning towards the doorway of the kitchen, Harry saw Kreacher standing there, blankly watching him, holding a struggling doxie in one hand.

Still gasping for breath, Harry yanked his wand out of his pocket and headed for the doorway. Kreacher merely moved aside to let him pass.

Some of the pain had escaped again, but it had uncovered another level of anger, which was now coursing through him. It was as if Harry was nothing but layers of pain and anger. Pain and anger.

Barreling down the hallway, he arrived at the basement door. Do it! DO IT! Make them pay!

\"Bombarda!\"

The old four-panel door blew open, a large chunk of it missing. Harry stomped down the stairs; \"Lumos Maxima!\" and the torches blazed to life. He was holding his right arm in front of him, his wand pointed straight ahead as he approached the bars of the cell that held Draco Malfoy.

A slight flick of his wand, and the chains holding Draco released, and his body fell to the floor with a wet thump.

Your turn now, Motherfucker!

\"Sherbert Lemon!\" The cell door swung open; Harry advanced into the cell pointing his wand at the prone form lying in a bloody heap on the floor. Draco was very still, his mouth half-open. Harry could barely hear Draco\'s raspy breathing over his own. Do it! Do it now!

He aimed his wand directly at the mass of tangled, white-blond hair. Now! Do it! Kill him!

DO IT!!!

Harry moved a step closer, but his wand was quivering now, as his breath grew short, hitching more and more in his chest. The anger had also expended itself, and all that was left in him was the Nothing, the great gaping hole that remained when all else was gone.

Harry\'s knees buckled, and he sank to the filthy floor, the hitching in his chest turning into great, raspy sobs. His vision blurred again, and at last, the tears flowed once more.

Turning his head, he vomited onto the decaying hay and dust. He sat there, kneeling in front of Draco, his wand slack in his hand, as the sobs slowly died away, seeing only the still form in front of him.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~


His eyes once again came into focus; There was Draco, and he was still breathing....

Harry could breathe normally again, but his chest was heavy, as if he had been running a race. His throat was very sore, and his left hand was covered in blood. There were some splinters in there, as well. His head throbbed. Vaguely wiping his crusted mouth with the back of his hand, he struggled to stand up. His legs were all pins and needles.

Finally able to stand, Harry looked down at Draco. Not again....

A shuffle behind him caused Harry to turn around. There was Kreacher, standing at the foot of the stairs, his huge round eyes staring at him.

\"Does Master require any help?\"

Harry tried to form an answer. What, do I need help? That\'s a joke! Yeah, I really DO need help, Kreacher, old boy! Yep, lots of help!

A smile crept onto Harry\'s face.

He threw the Scourgify Charm and cleaned up Draco, although fresh blood began to seep from the wounds on his wrists almost immediately.

\"Kreacher, tend to his wounds. Give him some water as well. Then, I want to you bind his ankles; take care not to do it too tightly, do you understand?\"

Kreacher nodded robotically. \"Yes, Master, I understand. Does Master wish me to raise the chains again?\"

\"No!\" Harry answered sharply. \"Keep him down! Do as I said, and then lock the cell door, reset the ward, and go back upstairs and keep after the doxies.\"

\"Yes, Master,\" Kreacher nodded again.

\"And Kreacher, no one, and I mean no one, is to come down here while I\'m gone, do you understand?\" Harry pointed his wand at the house elf, who nodded in agreement. \"You may use whatever measures you see fit to prevent intruders from coming down here, yeah?\" Harry took a few steps toward the elf, until his wand was a few inches from Kreacher\'s turnip-nose.

\"Kreacher understands, sir.\"

\"See to it then,\" Harry finished. Kreacher turned around and immediately headed back up the stairs. Harry looked back at Draco one last time. \"I\'ll finish with you tomorrow.\"

Pocketing his wand, he followed Kreacher up the stairs.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Harry wiped at the fogged-up mirror in the bathroom, swirling his hand on the glass to create a clear spot. Peering at the small round circle he had made, he rubbed his towel over his hair, gave his head a shake, and looked again. The condensation on the mirror, coupled with the fact that his glasses were sitting on the toilet tank, made it difficult to make out his reflection. Giving up on that for the moment, he wrapped the towel around his waist, and began dragging a brush through his hair.

The bathroom was another of the rooms that had been renovated at Grimmauld Place. Nothing really cosmetic here; the emphasis had been on making it usable again.

A rather unpleasant ghoul had been removed from the u-bend under the sink. The huge, claw-foot tub had been covered with what was thought to be a green, slimy fungus, but which turned out to be an infestation of Bundimun. Neville had nearly fainted when all of its eyes opened, and it began to crawl out of the tub across the floor at him. They were able to get rid of the Bundimun, but the stench it had left behind still lingered.

The hot shower had refreshed him, although his hand was throbbing slightly, and his throat was scratchy. At least the headache is gone, he thought, as he finished with the hairbrush. The air in the room had cleared somewhat, and Harry could see himself a bit better in the old mirror over the sink. Satisfied with his hair, he ran his hand over his chin, feeling the light stubble dusted there. He could barely make out the light shadow that ran the length of his jaw, and on his upper lip.

Probably should shave it, he thought. With a slight shrug, he decided to leave it. Harry always felt drained after these outbursts, but also lighter, as if some immense weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

As he dressed in his room, he began to feel more like himself again. Shrugging into a t-shirt, he sat on his bed and pulled on his boots. Then, he grabbed his black leather belt with the silver studs and skull buckle, and began threading it through the loops of his jeans. A crooked grin spread across his face as he recalled Malfoy lying silent on the floor of the cell.

Lucky bastard! he thought. Almost bought it, didn\'t you? Harry chuckled softly in the empty room. \"Yeah, almost!\" he said aloud, as the grin cracked itself open into a full-fledged smile.

It only took Harry a few quick charms to clean up the decimated kitchen. A bit less crockery, he thought, as he banished the last unrepairable pile of china with a final \"Evanesco!\" The basement door was also easily repaired, and Harry found that he was strangely disappointed that there was virtually no evidence left of his handiwork. That was cool! he thought, recalling the destruction. Smiling, he once again was standing in the basement looking inside the cell at his prisoner.

Kreacher had just finished with Draco, and was shuffling past Harry carrying an armload of bloody towels and rags. \"Kreacher is finished, sir,\" he said blandly, as he clomped up the stairs.

Harry looked down at Draco. The elf had followed his instructions perfectly. Malfoy\'s ankles were bound and chained together, but Kreacher had placed some cloth strips underneath the shackles. He had also cleaned and dressed Draco\'s wrists, and had cushioned those manacles as well. Draco looked quite peaceful, and were it not for all the chains and rotted hay on the floor, he could have been simply taking a nap.

Harry moved closer, and knelt down, marveling at the smooth, pale whiteness of Draco\'s skin. His white-blonde hair was the perfect compliment to his handsome features, and Harry found that his left hand had moved towards that gorgeous face, and the backs of his fingers were ghosting over the surface of that insanely smooth, milky-white cheek.

I wish I could see those beautiful eyes.

Harry remembered to breathe, and after a moment more, reluctantly pulled his hand away from Draco, standing up and taking a step backward, never removing his gaze from the peaceful, slumbering face of his prisoner.

With a swift motion, Harry drew his wand, and pointed it directly at Draco.

\"Legilimens!\"





A/N: Comments? Please!