Coming Undone

Coming Undone

~~

~~

So damn ugly, so damn cute

So well trained, so animal

So need your love, so fuck you all

I'm not scared of dying I just don't want to

If I stopped lying I'd just disappoint you

I come undone

-Robbie Williams 'Come Undone'

~~

~~

    It's dark but sleep will not come to this boy, this saviour. Jade eyes stare unblinking at the bed, his bed, their bed. The silence outside is eerie but it does not disturb him. No soft cooing of the birds comes from the forbidden forest, no tiny insect colonies are heard.

    It is black out there; the stars have long left this empty place. The world outside is like a void, sucking out of existence all that near it. Yet, in the mind of Harry Potter, the world is still alive, as it once was.

    His ears hear the winged creatures of the night, going about their business. His eyes, that shocking shade of charred verdant, see wands alight with magical fire. To Harry, nothing has ever changed since a week ago. Every night was the same, everything was as it should be. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, no destruction had yet occured.

     His eyes, dark blinded orbs, are watching his lover, resplendant in the moonlight. Lying among the twisted sheets, the ebony locks contrast sharply with their silken pearl. Asleep he was, and for once, appearing vulnerable and at peace.

    Each night Harry had sat there, dressed in the same loose dress shirt and black pants. Harry did not eat, he did not sleep nor do anything at all except sit in that chair most favoured by Severus and watch, watch this vision his mind conjured for him. Each night was his last night with his bond-mate.

    Sometimes, somewhere from the back of his mind, memories would surface. Memories of how Hogwarts had been attacked, of how all the students taken captive as playthings to Death Eaters. Memories of how Severus had rushed out, had been fighting with the rest, struggling to save the children. More memories of how Harry had been caught unaware, how a fumbling Death Eater had cast Avada Kedavra his way and he had not been prepared. Memories of how Severus had dived in front of him. And then all fizzzled out in green sparks and screams.

    But Harry does not let these strange memories bother him. Harry does not want them to have really happened, to be reality so he creates his own reality, this very last night of nights.

    After all, we do not choose to live or not. We simply must go on living and do what we must while we still draw breath.

    There is no argument to that, but how we live or what we do to keep moving is never definite and will vary from person to person. Which is why the weary old wizard that sits in his office mourning in his own way does nothing to stop Harry. The twinkle in his ancient blue eyes is gone, it might never return. And he joins Harry in his own ritual, staring at the piles of books around him, trying to not think, of war, of the deaths, of despair. Nothing. Because really, they're all human and do what they must to get by.