Descent

The descent into madness is a strange thing.

Most believe that madness is merely an inflaming of the mind; it has no rationale, no rhyme or reason. That's actually far from the truth.

Madness begins with an obsession, of one kind or another. My obsession with him had a rather odd beginning.

I didn't plan on making friends when I came to this school of magic. I came to learn, to revel in the joy of knowledge and higher learning. Here, I could find unconquered territory. I had never had real friends before I came here, so why expect them now? People, I found, were unneccesarily cruel. A belief I still hold very dearly today. Oh, the idea of friendship was appealing; who doesn't want a companion? But I had no delusions as to my desierablity as a mate, platonic or otherwise.

Until he crashed into my life.

I met him on the train as I came to his strange new world. I knew who he was, but he held no real interest for me. Like I said, I came to learn, and to be the best. We didn't become friends until he saved me from the cave troll, him and his flame-headed prat of a mate. I vowed to make it up to him, that I would repay this debt of life to him, and then be on my way. Perhaps we would be friends, casually, but nothing more. How wrong I was.

I do not hold people in very high regard. But he was different, special even. He was fairly mistrustful of others, to a degree, as I was, though most would not guess it. It comes from a history of abuse at the hands of others, one that Ronald Weasley did not suffer to the extent we did until he came to Hogwarts. One that he still cannot comprehend, for most of it is good natured ribbing from those who love him. But Harry cared - cares - as I do. He cares for the simple beauty of truth, and love, and compassion. He cares for human life in a way that I had never seen utnil I got to know him.

I was drawn to him. He has a quiet power to him, one that I respect and cherish greatly. And he respects me in a way that no other ever has, or ever will, I think. He sees in me what no other sees - not my brains, but my passions. And even if he doesn't understand, he accepts it.

And I love him for it.

As the war wages on, I have become weary of the fighting. Oh, I will not stop. Part of me is still an optimist, and I know we can win this thing if we just keep working at it.

But inside, the part of me that only God knows, is well aware that there is one thing I'm fighting for - him. I am tied to this cause, because of him, and if I were to ever feel like walking away, I wouldn't, because above all us, I must keep him safe.

Oh, I fight because I know it's right. I don't want others to suffer because of one bastard. But I will gively give up all their lives, and mine, to keep Harry alive. And I will burn the world to ashes, if Harry could be happy, really happy, for one day.

My obsession continues to spiral onward. After our third year, I knew that Harry would never fade from my life. We were sealed to one another. Our fourth year, the bonds that held us forced us back to back, shoulder to shoulder, in a way that nothing else could. He defends me when I cannot muster the strength internally to do it myself. And he knows when I cannot do it; as tightly caught as we are, there is no way around it.

And so one night, while trying to give myself the strength to fight for him, I sealed my life with his so tightly that even I could never break that bond. Where he goes, I must follow. Perhaps even to the grave.

My oath was meant to tie myself to the cause. Somehow, I didn't realise that it would tie me directly to him. But it was a strange, comforting pressure, to be so much a part of him. When he hugged me, after we met at Grimmauld Place, I knew. He knew. That night, when everyone else was asleep, I crawled from my room, up the stairs, and into Sirius' old room, where he was sleeping. I have refused to sleep anywhere else since. The bond demands that we be as close together as possible, for in order to keep him alive, I must be there to help him. Once, I would have worried what others thought, but now, only he matters.

I am obsessed with him, but he is also obsessed with me. I know that others worry, but I cannot bring myself to care. He is the focal center of my life, and nothing else matters. I do not care when McGonagall gives us disapproving looks, or that Mrs. Weasley glares at me so when I go to his room. Harry is mine, and mine alone. And no one can take that from me.

Everything is his now. Every book I read, every word I write, every tear I shed. I get tired, and I hurt, but he gives me the strength to carry on. I never thought that shackles and chains would give me such love, but I bear them willingly, even lovingly.

The only time we're apart now is when he plays Quidditch. I do not want him to give that up; he needs something simple and fun in his life, and Quidditch is that for him. He is beautiful when he flies.

But when his feet are on the ground, he is mine.

He is possesive of me, and I know it. He surrounds me always; his shock of onyx locks and his eyes are always within arm's distance of me. He does not let me out of his sight. His need of me grows daily, as much as my need of him does. We spiral out of control in one anothers arms.

I know what people say. I have read the Daily Prophet. I know what our 'beloved' Headmaster thinks of it. I don't care. It's none of their business, how I feel about him.

Even if I cannot get him out of my mind. The further away I am from him, the colder I feel.

He lost his temper in Potions. It was a glorious thing to watch.

Snape, being his usual, petty self, tried to pair me with Malfoy. I took a deep breath, but I could do it. He would just be across the room. I could still feel him. But it wasn't good enough for him.

His magic manifested, and every potion bottle exploded, save those that were close enough to harm me, had they shattered. The wails of students filled the dungeons as the potions burned into them. He screamed above the shrieks of pain and horror. He screamed for me, and dove for me, and I was swallowed in his arms and legs as he wrapped himself around me, holding me as tightly as he could without choking the life out of me.

Another howl erupted in the room as Snape tried to separate us. It was me howling, trying to bury myself in Harry. He picked me up, summoned my bag, slung his over his shoulder, and ran from the room, heading for the grounds of Hogwarts, leaving a drenched and furious Snape in his wake.

The bonds tightened. No confusion took me, no worry seeped into me. I was safe, burrowed in Harry. We hid in the Forbidden Forest.

The unicorns came and made a circle around is. Madness, true madness, is pure, and I suppose that's what attracted them. They and the Threstrals ringed us, and several times, school staff ran by us, oblivious to our presence. We were sheltered under ferns and Threstral wings, content in ourselves.

"Step by step, heart to heart, left right left, we all fall down... like toy soldiers...."

We decided that it was time for us to leave.

He possesses me all the time. I am never alone.

When we make love, he surrounds me completely. There is no me, anymore. Only us. All thoughts of the war have flown out of my head. Oh, I still fight, completely. But now I am fighting for one thing - him. Everything else is a moot point, a side benefit to his staying alive. His happiness nourishes me. He surrounds me, swallows me, tears me apart and puts me back together, and makes me feel more alive. He is my fire. I am his, to the last breath.

Dumbledore tried once - once - to take me back, knowing that Harry would follow me if I were taken. I was asleep in the sitting room, and Harry was in the backyard, harvesting strawberries for a dessert for me. But he knew, as he always does.

Never have I see such a spectacular rage.

Harry stormed in, me wrapped so tightly in the bedsheets that I could not fight. He snatched me from Dumbledore's arms and held me protectively. He screamed insults and threats to Dumbledore and his assorted party, warning him to stay away from me at all time.

"The next time anyone comes near her," he had said, "I will rip them apart, piece by piece, and give their soul to the Dementors to feed on. She is mine. Do you hear me? She is MINE, and MINE ALONE. You can't have her! She's not yours!"

His declaration of ownership thrilled me beyond belief. I was his, completely, with no one even having a foot in the door.

He ranted for the rest of the day, storming through the house, uttering dire threats to life and limb of anyone who came close to me.

As he overtakes me, a feeling of satisfaction and completion overwhelms me. Who would have thought that the act of saving my life would lead us down this road? We have barred ourselves from society, alienated our friends, and left the world in general. And we are both happy about it. I think we would have loved one another regardless; this was meant to be, and if we hadn't gotten together in this fashion, it would have just taken a little longer.