Beholden

(a story of seasons)

By Passo

       

The sun can shine too hot sometimes. Like your skin.

He was his light. Unfortunately, even the heat can only remain as a memory.

Harry sat alone, on the sand, surrounded by the laughter and the buzz of chatter. Muggles, wizards… it didn’t matter. He didn’t care what they were, or who they were. They were just the noise that provided the backdrop for his sadness. Innocents who didn’t care about the devastation that carried on beyond their safe, rosy worlds.

The sea glittered with a million blue diamonds. Were they the jewels that he was promised long before? But he did not desire them. What he wanted were those that could not be bought, yet were worth more than anything he could ever possess.

Like the sweat that dropped on their chests the last time they saw each other one summer night. It trickled from his brow, falling on his lover’s skin like tears… diamond tears that melted on the sheets. Sheets stained with the violence of their love.

Harry always moaned, his hands clutching at his back, scratching, leaving the skin bleeding—marked—even for just a short time after. Tom always laughed about how he liked to have too much for such a calm person. Harry only had one response: “I can never love you halfway.”

Right now, he wondered whether it was true. Did that mean staying here, waiting all his life for something he never knew would return?

He didn’t notice the people leave, or the children’s toys disappearing. They ignored him anyway. He was just the young man who always sat there, unmoving, his white towel stark against the skin tanned by weeks of waiting in the sun.

They say the rays can kiss your skin.

But they also burn. Can they?

The light faded, blue to red, red to black, heat to cold.

But still, he waited.

       

Fall was the curtain that covered their sins.

Now they fell around his invisible throne, the leaves swaying, red and gold against the twilight of the forest.

Every year shed its tears.

He moved around the trees silently, chasing an enemy that was really his prey. They always were when he came out to hunt. The Auror was fast, but he managed to catch up.

His footsteps crunched softly, the sound absorbed by the thick carpet that lay over the forest floor. His robes shifted, grey amongst the shadows that were his home. The darkness gave birth to him, sheltered him in its loving bosom even when he was exiled from the life he was supposed to have.

The night was his mother, and he was nothing but a good son.

His heart pounded against his ribs. The chase was hard and had lasted weeks, finally culminating in this place. Mostly he had waited, but now he had to move.

The tall, tall trees blinked above them, whispering their hidden thoughts among themselves. What do you see?

A spark whistled through the air, the flash of magic narrowly missing him and wounding the bark where his head had been. Ah! The hunter was now the hunted.

The leaves just fell sadly, their secrets silenced with their demise. I see danger.

Death is a dance between two men. And what could they be but lovers—for hate is a manifestation of love. And maybe even obsession. They danced in the forest, their feet moving quickly through the music of anger that only they could hear. They knew that this was it, and only one of them could get away from this alive.

Voldemort stretched his arm fluidly, hitting his opponent with a spell squarely where it hurt. He almost smiled at the silent scream that tore from the Auror’s chest. But they were both masters, and the game went on as before.

The minutes moved like moments, sometimes stretching for hours in the dry timeless air. But everything had an end.

By the time he heard him shout the spell, it was too late. He never had a chance to see the faint green light that shot from the other’s wand. He just saw the leaves, slowly falling. Felt them landing on his cheek as his body turned. The world tilted beneath his feet and his wand scraped the ground, sending a golden wave in the air, arching about his form. They suddenly seemed clear, twinkling, winking at him with their golden eyes. The wild rays of sunlight caught them, sending a promise he could not understand.

Death was grey like the twilight.

He opened his mouth and uttered the word that was his life, “Harry.”

       

Years ago, he knew how to laugh, even with the cold. For they were safely cocooned in their little world, bodies warm in the biting air. Heat played between their want, and they could only breathe and sigh over the ecstasy of their union.

He slumped over Harry, sated.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing,” Harry said, worried.

“And I like doing it.” His smile was as white as the sheets tangled about their legs. “I enjoy breaking the rules of your little school.”

“You sound like a child.” Harry couldn’t help smiling. “This was your school too.”

“My real education took place much later.”

Harry’s smile faded, and he shifted beneath Voldemort, trying to get out from his embrace.

“What’s the matter?” The wine-red eyes looked worried.

“I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“That this will end.” He looked up, troubled. “Tom, we know what they expect me to do. And they know what you’re planning.”

He closed his eyes. Harry was right. They lived in opposite spheres, but met where each world ended. Still, he had to ask. “When the time comes, will you… will you do it?”

“I can never betray you.” The words were hard and final. “I love you.”

“I…” What else could he say? “Me too, Harry.”

       

Winter was the traitor that stole his hope.

“You know that he left again with his troops.” It was not a question.

Harry stood in front of Dumbledore’s massive desk. The little amusing things were gone now, replaced by maps… pages and pages of maps outlining the places where the enemy could be hiding. “No,” he whispered.

“He never told you?” The old wizard was surprised.

Harry could only shake his head wordlessly. He should have known it would happen someday. But not this fast. And not this way, never this way.

“He betrayed you.” The anger was evident in Dumbledore’s quiet voice. He looked at Harry, bushy brows meeting over his nose. “You know what you have to do, Harry. We must send word for Sirius at once. You must go with them.”

He didn’t even have to think. “No.” His answer was clear, splitting the air cleanly between them. “I’ll stay here. I’ll wait.” Several seconds ticked by, accompanied only by the shocked glance of the man he could almost call Father.

The old blue eyes saddened, looking at him dejectedly. “We were fools, Harry. Fools.”

Winter was the pain of betrayal in his eyes.

       

The ice melted with his tears.

Harry threw the lone white blossom on the freshly covered earth. His grief was silent, for words only demeaned what they had.

But he could still cry.

He cried as the world went through a rebirth. There was joy, happiness for the world he had fought for. If only he could feel their warmth. But there was none for him. There

was only darkness.

I don’t want them to destroy what we have.

He could still hear him, see him as he looked that night. The dam broke as Harry knelt, collapsing on the ground where he stood alone. For no one would ever grieve for the villain they despised.

Spring was his love, waking the cold within.

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