Snippets of Desire

*How could they have been so stupid?* The guilt flayed at Harry as his body jumped in pain and screams tore from his mouth against his will.

A Death Eater mask floated in front of him, his perception disconnected from reality. It seemed to pop and crackle. Or perhaps that was his skin under the flame.

Hermione hung from the wall to his left, her face was bruised and bleeding and her ribs were a latticework of cuts. And Ron…he was one big bleeding bruise. Harry felt his whole being sizzle with rage/shame/guilt/horror and he let himself swim in it. This was all his fault. *All my fault.*

The pain across his skin, into his bones tore his breath from his throat. But it wasn’t the pain that made him feel as if his whole personality were shattering. No, that was the sheer stupidity of finding himself in this situation.

*How long did you know this was a risk? How much training did you do to avoid it? And still, they suckered you will a distant call of a friend. You didn’t even call for backup. You didn’t even summon a locating charm. You just fucked off and now Hermione and Ron are going to die. Oh Ron, I’m so sorry.* A sob tore from his throat and the Death Eater in front of him laughed.

Rage and hate, guilt and shame. They were glass shards tearing him apart. How could they not see it coming up through his skin? Color burst behind his eyes and felt himself spiral down.

“He’s passing out.” The sound echoed from across a chasm.

“Well, enervate him.”

“Perhaps we should let him stew for a while with his friends. There are…other entertainments to be had this night.”

Blackness.

Harry blinked and saw weak light coming in from underneath a door. They had trussed him up like a Christmas turkey. He giggled against his will. *I am going to die. Slowly.*

“How long was I out?” The words came out, a tiny whisper in the weight of the darkness.

“Maybe two hours?” Hermione voice sounded stronger than his. She was so strong. Harry tried not to cry. *How do I apologize for getting us all killed?*

Silence stretched out between them and Harry stared at the white spots whizzing around his vision.

“Harry?” Ron whispered.

“Yeah…Ron?” Harry tried to get the words out smoothly but a sharp pain in his chest made it impossible.

“I don’t regret any of it,” he replied.

Harry started to cry. Silently.

“Me either, Ron. Except getting caught,” he finally said. He couldn’t help laughing. Their laughter joined his. It was hysterical laughter but better than crying.

Just then the door opened and Harry tried to brace himself for pain. For Death.

Instead, the cloaked figure freed them with a whispered spell and dropped their wands. Then he was gone. Harry tried to scramble to his feet but had to collapse in a fetal ball.

“Ron, Hermione. I need…” He croaked.

“No worries, mate.” Ron knelt beside him and the warmth of a healing spell flowed over him. Hermione’s spell joined him. *They feel so different. Ron’s is warm like a summer day. Hermione’s feels like a cool breeze. I wonder why that is.*

“Time to go.” He stood as he said it. “Can we Apparate?”

“No.” Hermione said, standing beside him.

“They’ve set wards. We’ll have to get outside the building.” Ron continued, also standing.

Months of training came together with an audible snap. They didn’t use any unforgivables but neither did they show mercy. Harry almost decapitated a Death Eater with a flick of his wrist. The spray of jugular blood hit him in the face but he didn’t even pause. The next one, he did decapitate. Hermione blew the chest out of another. Ron set one on fire. Spell after spell rolled around them. If Harry couldn’t set a defense shield, Hermione did. They rolled through their enemies, always heading out. Always out.

Finally, the cold of the night air bit into his skin. With a nod, they apparated home.