Hubris

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Just hold on a little longer, boy...

The carriage jolts, and his bluish eyelids flicker, his breath forced out by the sudden movement of the carriage in an excruciating wheeze. His body lies draped over the seat across from me, lifeless and radiating vulnerability. His white lips are slightly parted, and every so often a breath escapes through them. A crimson trickle dances down from the corner of them, outlining the still slightly boyish curve of his face, and forming a bead at his chin. It drops onto my cloak, which is rumpled over most of his frail body. It is amazing, really, how different he looks from this perspective.

I am used to seeing him through narrowed eyes, my persona precisely calculated to the perfect key of intimidation. Intimidation, of course, to belie the utter threat he poses to my sanity with every word he speaks. Every move he makes, and I watch him watching me. Hating me. Just as he was destined to do since before his birth. It is not unexpected, and I do not encourage him to act otherwise. I have never hurt him, but I made sure he expected me to. He loathes me, and I feed off of his loathing just as I have fed off of the loathing of every person who has come into my life. It is my sagacity, to be so hated. It reminds me of my place in the world. He reminds me of my place in the world, and that is why I hate him. If I cannot hate him, I can only compensate by hating myself all the more, and I survive only by this delicate balance of contempt.

And now... disarranged. Discombobulated. He poses no threat now, across from me, wheezing and jerking limply with the carriage. He is dependent upon me to survive, just as I have been dependent upon him for the past four years, if only in a slightly different way. His hubris would not allow him to admit it, but he is delicate. Oh, so delicate. He trusts even me. Correction; he trusted me. Whether this trust has withstood tonight´s events has yet to be confirmed. I threw off the balance. I hurt him.

I hurt him to save his life, though he may never understand that, and I don´t expect him to. But doesn´t he realize that he has been hurting me every day of his life, saving my life? I hurt him to the point of death, maybe, but he will not die. He will be healed, if only physically. I wonder if I will ever explain this to him. It is doubtful; he is not the only one who suffers the damnation of hubris.

Why do I pity him? He has suffered no more than me! It was nothing that I have never encountered. I suffer the same fate, day after day; only my resilience seems to be far more developed than his. I was always so good at torture... So many different tactics within the art of Cruciatus. So many different ways to make it hurt.

And it does hurt him. It still hurts him in his unconsciousness. It lingers in his dreams, probably. I wonder if he sees my eyes, black, glinting carelessly from beneath a deep hood as he writhes at my feet, a singsong of laughter surrounding him. Poor boy. Poor, goddamn boy, always getting in the way.

We have arrived at the school. The carriage stops. Dumbledore is waiting, looking high-strung and exhausted at the same time, his lines of care deepened immeasurably. Beside him stands Black, who will probably proceed to kill me when I step out of the safety of this vehicle. He is safe to stand undisguised, as the school is currently devoid of students and most staff.

I make a motion with my wand, and the boy´s body lifts slowly from the seat, his arms drooping, his head lolling back. I close my eyes, and turn the door´s handle. I step out, and his corpse-like silhouette floats out behind me.

"Bastard!" Black´s voice hisses, as he rushes past me to take his godson into his arms.

"Severus," Dumbledore whispers as I stride past him. I do not acknowledge him. "Severus, wait."

I don´t hear anything but the word bastard echoing repeatedly through my head. Bastard, wait. I stop, but do not turn around.

"You did everything you could--"

"BASTARD!"

"That´s enough, Sirius!"

"I´m going inside, headmaster."

"Severus, Harry is going to wake up tomorrow morning without any idea why this has happened to him. He needs you to be there, to explain--"

"Why don´t you have Black explain to him? He seems to have the gist of it."

"That isn´t funny, Severus."

"It wasn´t intended to be."

"Promise me you´ll be in the hospital wing tomorrow morning."

"I´m going to bed."

"Severus!"

"Tell him what you want. I will not force my presence upon him. Goodnight, headmaster."

"Don´t walk away like you aren´t responsible for this, you cringing piece of shit--"

"SIRIUS, STOP! Severus, wait..."

But I am already gone.