FIC--Wallowing in Self-Pity, part two
Jul. 17th, 2007 03:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ficsbydeenasTitle: Wallowing in Self-Pity
Chapter: Two
Chapter Rating: PG
Summary: Too many things have gone wrong. Too many people have suffered, even though the battle is won. A self-imposed exile is all he thinks he deserves.
PART TWO
Harry sat on the empty floor of his dingy little flat in Muggle London, surrounded by three cardboard boxes that held all his worldly possessions. He'd done it. He left the magical world behind him and secured a flat far away from Charing Cross Road as possible. He didn’t tell anyone where he'd gone, what he was doing or if he would ever go back. In fact, the last magical being he saw was a grumpy goblin at Gringotts when he'd gone there to withdraw a ridiculously large sum of money from his vault, exchanging it for pounds and Euros. He wondered for a split second if that was a wise choice, for he knew that Bill Weasley was sure to find out, and then he'd tell his parents, who'd tell Hermione, who'd tell Ron and then they'd all know that he'd done a runner.
But that was beside the point now. It was over and done with. He was on his own.
"Okay, I need some furniture," he said to himself as he got up from the floor and opened one of the boxes. He withdrew a pillow and walked into the bedroom, a small room with two small windows, and set the pillow on the floor across from the windows. Harry took his wand from his back pocket and transfigured the pillow into a large bed, queen size, if he wasn't mistaken. He summoned the box and tossed sheets and blankets onto it, changing them into crisp, white sheets and a fluffy midnight blue duvet.
Harry walked into the other room and crouched to one of the remaining boxes, pulling out a few odds and ends. He changed a balled up pair of socks into a comfortable sofa and an old shoe box into a coffee table. He picked up a few items and walked into the kitchen. A box of paperclips became a drawer full of silverware and utensils while several paper soufflé cups from restaurants became glasses, pots, pans and bake ware for the kitchen. When that was completed, Harry breathed a heavy sigh and headed back to the living room. At the box, he withdrew an old Gryffindor scarf which became a gold and scarlet crocheted blanket, the only reminder of the other world he came from. With a heavy sigh, he placed his wand and every picture of Ron, Hermione, Ginny and every other person he'd known for the past eight years inside the final box and carried it to the closet and set it on the topmost shelf. The slam of the door closed that chapter of his life.
"Harry, you've got to finish it…you were meant to do it!" Fred Weasley coughed up blood as he ordered Harry to go without him.
"Fred, I just can't leave you here…"
"Go!" More blood shot from his mouth, making Harry cringe. "Tell Mum…I—" Another coughing fit stopped Fred's words and then he stiffened in Harry's arms and let out his final breath.
"FRED!!!"
Harry awoke with a start, sweating and lying on the floor of his bedroom. He rubbed the back of his head from where he fell onto the floor. The nightmares of the war kept haunting him at night, each one different from the rest. But they all had a common thread—he always saw someone he cared about either die or be seriously wounded. A few nights ago, it was Mad-Eye Moody getting hit with a flesh-eating spell and dying as he watched his skin fade away.
The dream that recurred the most was most painful and it hadn't even involved anyone dying or physically maimed. It was about Ginny and the last time he saw her. That dream actually made him cry.
-----
He'd just left the ward where Ron was, and was already halfway across the lobby of St Mungo's when he'd heard someone call his name.
"Harry! Get back here NOW!"
He stopped and took a deep breath, steeling himself against the verbal assault he knew would come. Ginny wouldn't let him go quietly.
"Ron needs you, Harry! You have to be there for him," Ginny pleaded, her voice still strong and unwavering.
Harry shoved his hands into the pockets of his muddy jeans and hung his head to look at the floor.
He heard her walk across the linoleum floor and stop behind him. Her breathing was loud and harsh, and the strawberry scent of her threatened to break his resolve.
She reached up and grabbed his chin, turning it towards her so that he looked her in the eyes.
"How dare you even think about leaving him when he needs you the most! He didn't follow you for shits and giggles, Harry," she nearly screamed at him. "He went with you because you're his friend and he believed in what you were doing."
Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself silent. He tasted the blood as it oozed down his teeth.
"Say something! My God, Harry, at least when Cedric died you screamed at us all. But this…this…is just not right."
"I've got to go," Harry mumbled and began walking again.
"And what about me? What about us, Harry?"
That was when she faltered and he heard a tremor in her voice. With another sigh, he looked away because he knew that if he saw the look in her eyes, she'd make him change his mind. He examined the portrait of Hephaestus Dingwiggle, a Healer known for finding a cure for Fire Breath.
"I…I've got to go, Ginny." His throat tightened as he said her name.
"No, you don't!" She turned him around by the shoulders and he noticed she was crying. Ginny never cried. "We need you! I…need you."
He closed his eyes. "Everyone's been hurt because of me. I can't stay here anymore."
Her hands slid from his shoulders and Harry began walking toward the door. As he reached the street, he sunk to his knees and covered his face with his hands.
Chapter: Two
Chapter Rating: PG
Summary: Too many things have gone wrong. Too many people have suffered, even though the battle is won. A self-imposed exile is all he thinks he deserves.
Harry sat on the empty floor of his dingy little flat in Muggle London, surrounded by three cardboard boxes that held all his worldly possessions. He'd done it. He left the magical world behind him and secured a flat far away from Charing Cross Road as possible. He didn’t tell anyone where he'd gone, what he was doing or if he would ever go back. In fact, the last magical being he saw was a grumpy goblin at Gringotts when he'd gone there to withdraw a ridiculously large sum of money from his vault, exchanging it for pounds and Euros. He wondered for a split second if that was a wise choice, for he knew that Bill Weasley was sure to find out, and then he'd tell his parents, who'd tell Hermione, who'd tell Ron and then they'd all know that he'd done a runner.
But that was beside the point now. It was over and done with. He was on his own.
"Okay, I need some furniture," he said to himself as he got up from the floor and opened one of the boxes. He withdrew a pillow and walked into the bedroom, a small room with two small windows, and set the pillow on the floor across from the windows. Harry took his wand from his back pocket and transfigured the pillow into a large bed, queen size, if he wasn't mistaken. He summoned the box and tossed sheets and blankets onto it, changing them into crisp, white sheets and a fluffy midnight blue duvet.
Harry walked into the other room and crouched to one of the remaining boxes, pulling out a few odds and ends. He changed a balled up pair of socks into a comfortable sofa and an old shoe box into a coffee table. He picked up a few items and walked into the kitchen. A box of paperclips became a drawer full of silverware and utensils while several paper soufflé cups from restaurants became glasses, pots, pans and bake ware for the kitchen. When that was completed, Harry breathed a heavy sigh and headed back to the living room. At the box, he withdrew an old Gryffindor scarf which became a gold and scarlet crocheted blanket, the only reminder of the other world he came from. With a heavy sigh, he placed his wand and every picture of Ron, Hermione, Ginny and every other person he'd known for the past eight years inside the final box and carried it to the closet and set it on the topmost shelf. The slam of the door closed that chapter of his life.
"Harry, you've got to finish it…you were meant to do it!" Fred Weasley coughed up blood as he ordered Harry to go without him.
"Fred, I just can't leave you here…"
"Go!" More blood shot from his mouth, making Harry cringe. "Tell Mum…I—" Another coughing fit stopped Fred's words and then he stiffened in Harry's arms and let out his final breath.
"FRED!!!"
Harry awoke with a start, sweating and lying on the floor of his bedroom. He rubbed the back of his head from where he fell onto the floor. The nightmares of the war kept haunting him at night, each one different from the rest. But they all had a common thread—he always saw someone he cared about either die or be seriously wounded. A few nights ago, it was Mad-Eye Moody getting hit with a flesh-eating spell and dying as he watched his skin fade away.
The dream that recurred the most was most painful and it hadn't even involved anyone dying or physically maimed. It was about Ginny and the last time he saw her. That dream actually made him cry.
-----
He'd just left the ward where Ron was, and was already halfway across the lobby of St Mungo's when he'd heard someone call his name.
"Harry! Get back here NOW!"
He stopped and took a deep breath, steeling himself against the verbal assault he knew would come. Ginny wouldn't let him go quietly.
"Ron needs you, Harry! You have to be there for him," Ginny pleaded, her voice still strong and unwavering.
Harry shoved his hands into the pockets of his muddy jeans and hung his head to look at the floor.
He heard her walk across the linoleum floor and stop behind him. Her breathing was loud and harsh, and the strawberry scent of her threatened to break his resolve.
She reached up and grabbed his chin, turning it towards her so that he looked her in the eyes.
"How dare you even think about leaving him when he needs you the most! He didn't follow you for shits and giggles, Harry," she nearly screamed at him. "He went with you because you're his friend and he believed in what you were doing."
Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself silent. He tasted the blood as it oozed down his teeth.
"Say something! My God, Harry, at least when Cedric died you screamed at us all. But this…this…is just not right."
"I've got to go," Harry mumbled and began walking again.
"And what about me? What about us, Harry?"
That was when she faltered and he heard a tremor in her voice. With another sigh, he looked away because he knew that if he saw the look in her eyes, she'd make him change his mind. He examined the portrait of Hephaestus Dingwiggle, a Healer known for finding a cure for Fire Breath.
"I…I've got to go, Ginny." His throat tightened as he said her name.
"No, you don't!" She turned him around by the shoulders and he noticed she was crying. Ginny never cried. "We need you! I…need you."
He closed his eyes. "Everyone's been hurt because of me. I can't stay here anymore."
Her hands slid from his shoulders and Harry began walking toward the door. As he reached the street, he sunk to his knees and covered his face with his hands.
