It ain't just a river in Eygpt...
Date: April 7, 2000
Time: Late night
Location: 12 Grimmauld Place
Characters Involved: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Complete
Denial is a tricky thing. It bides its time under the guise of 'better things to think about', content to be shoved under rugs or in dark, deserted corners of a mind, happy even to live up to its name and reputation in new and not so exciting ways. It, at least, was confident in the knowledge that it would have its day.
Today was the day for Harry's denial to shine.
Having forced himself to almost immediately shove the ' altercation' with Snape aside in order to continue, as planned, on his overnight trip with Ginny, Harry had willingly repressed any and all after affects and reactions to Snape's words. And while Ginny had proven to be quite the skilled distraction that night, she wasn't around all the time. The trip had to end and Harry had to come home.
Home to where Snape's voice still seemed to be ringing in the air. Hurtful, unbelieving words etched into the very walls to echo back at Harry as soon as he stepped foot in the front door.
Yes, denial is a tricky thing. It hides until you think the source of it is all but forgotten, only to jump out at you when you least expect it, refusing to hide a moment longer.
It wiped the smile instantly from Harry's face. A smile put there by something so perfect and pure as the love he came to share with Ginny, multiple times, over the course of the previous twenty-four hours, was now molded and disfigured into the scowl carved into his face. His eyes narrowed at the empty space in the center of the sitting room, a vacuum once occupied by a coffee table. He hadn't even bothered trying to magically repair it. One of them, it was still unclear who, had shattered it beyond recognition. It didn't take much to imagine the debris now that it was gone. Shards of an tea set spilled across the floor, the untouched liquid seeping into patterns into the old wood slats. Splintered wood from the table spread out across the room, the force of its explosion sending tiny bits of wood to every nook and corner of the room. It wasn't a sight he wanted t relive, or the words that had accompanied it, yet his feet propelled him across the room to sit in Sirius' worn armchair once again.
The cracked leather creaked under his weight, a raspy coded voice relaying a clear message. Deal with this, Harry, before you can't even sit in my chair anymore without thinking about what the greasy git said.
"Alright."
Harry slinked out of his cloak, letting it fall back against the chair, sleeves dangling over the arms. Leaning forward, he closed his eyes and forced that morning back to the forefront of his mind. Snape's words, their sharp and bewildering pain taking form into recognozable, remembered sentences.
'Your father's son, through and through. Arrogant. Bigoted. Selfish. Inconsiderate.'
Come now, Harry, you know that's not true. You're letting Snivellus make you doubt who James was? The kind of person he was? I expect better from you, Harry.
"I know. I don't believe Snape. I just...I don't know him. I never knew him." Harry spoke into the darkness of the room, the color splotched void behind his eyelids as if the peron he was conversing with was standing in the room with him. "He said you both turned your backs on Remus...that you thought he was the one who betrayed you."
Ah, yes...the leaving Lupin to starve in the hedgerows bit. Snivelly was always good at turning a phrase. I liked the bit about thinking my excrement had no odour. Still makes me chuckle. Oh! And tell me I heard that right. Did Snivellus actually say 'SLAG'? But he was right about one thing, Harry. I did think it was Remus...and Remus thought it was me. Don't you remember the Shrieking Shack? We said our apologies, Remus and I. No one thought Peter'd betray them, so we turned on each other. The greasy wanker's never had a friend in his life, don't let him convince you he knows the first thing about friendship. It's not his grudge to hold.
Harry's head hung a bit lower at the memory of Remus and Sirius both rolling up their sleeves, forgiving each other, as they prepared to attack Peter. They'd forgiven each other so easily. Years of prison, both physical and emotional for both men washed away with ease as the truth of what happened was revealed. How could he have forgotten that? He knew he and Ron would have been the same way, had reacted the same way in light of the same mistakes. They were friends, best mates, and that meant more than Snape's words.
Most of them.
'Your mother is dead because your father was a bigoted idiot who placed too much trust in your lazy, irresponsible, COWARDLY God-father, just as much as anything I did!'
Sorry, Harry, I'm not even going to touch that one. I shouldn't have to. And neither should you.
Harry stood up from the chair, leaving his cloak behind, and headed for the stairs.
"You're right, Sirius. I shouldn't have to deal with any of this, but that doesn't make it go away."
Denial is a tricky thing. It lies in wait, pounces with teeth and claws bared just when you lose touch with it completely, and, funny enough, it has no problems with going right back into hiding, taking things you just can't deal with along with it.
Time: Late night
Location: 12 Grimmauld Place
Characters Involved: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Complete
Denial is a tricky thing. It bides its time under the guise of 'better things to think about', content to be shoved under rugs or in dark, deserted corners of a mind, happy even to live up to its name and reputation in new and not so exciting ways. It, at least, was confident in the knowledge that it would have its day.
Today was the day for Harry's denial to shine.
Having forced himself to almost immediately shove the ' altercation' with Snape aside in order to continue, as planned, on his overnight trip with Ginny, Harry had willingly repressed any and all after affects and reactions to Snape's words. And while Ginny had proven to be quite the skilled distraction that night, she wasn't around all the time. The trip had to end and Harry had to come home.
Home to where Snape's voice still seemed to be ringing in the air. Hurtful, unbelieving words etched into the very walls to echo back at Harry as soon as he stepped foot in the front door.
Yes, denial is a tricky thing. It hides until you think the source of it is all but forgotten, only to jump out at you when you least expect it, refusing to hide a moment longer.
It wiped the smile instantly from Harry's face. A smile put there by something so perfect and pure as the love he came to share with Ginny, multiple times, over the course of the previous twenty-four hours, was now molded and disfigured into the scowl carved into his face. His eyes narrowed at the empty space in the center of the sitting room, a vacuum once occupied by a coffee table. He hadn't even bothered trying to magically repair it. One of them, it was still unclear who, had shattered it beyond recognition. It didn't take much to imagine the debris now that it was gone. Shards of an tea set spilled across the floor, the untouched liquid seeping into patterns into the old wood slats. Splintered wood from the table spread out across the room, the force of its explosion sending tiny bits of wood to every nook and corner of the room. It wasn't a sight he wanted t relive, or the words that had accompanied it, yet his feet propelled him across the room to sit in Sirius' worn armchair once again.
The cracked leather creaked under his weight, a raspy coded voice relaying a clear message. Deal with this, Harry, before you can't even sit in my chair anymore without thinking about what the greasy git said.
"Alright."
Harry slinked out of his cloak, letting it fall back against the chair, sleeves dangling over the arms. Leaning forward, he closed his eyes and forced that morning back to the forefront of his mind. Snape's words, their sharp and bewildering pain taking form into recognozable, remembered sentences.
'Your father's son, through and through. Arrogant. Bigoted. Selfish. Inconsiderate.'
Come now, Harry, you know that's not true. You're letting Snivellus make you doubt who James was? The kind of person he was? I expect better from you, Harry.
"I know. I don't believe Snape. I just...I don't know him. I never knew him." Harry spoke into the darkness of the room, the color splotched void behind his eyelids as if the peron he was conversing with was standing in the room with him. "He said you both turned your backs on Remus...that you thought he was the one who betrayed you."
Ah, yes...the leaving Lupin to starve in the hedgerows bit. Snivelly was always good at turning a phrase. I liked the bit about thinking my excrement had no odour. Still makes me chuckle. Oh! And tell me I heard that right. Did Snivellus actually say 'SLAG'? But he was right about one thing, Harry. I did think it was Remus...and Remus thought it was me. Don't you remember the Shrieking Shack? We said our apologies, Remus and I. No one thought Peter'd betray them, so we turned on each other. The greasy wanker's never had a friend in his life, don't let him convince you he knows the first thing about friendship. It's not his grudge to hold.
Harry's head hung a bit lower at the memory of Remus and Sirius both rolling up their sleeves, forgiving each other, as they prepared to attack Peter. They'd forgiven each other so easily. Years of prison, both physical and emotional for both men washed away with ease as the truth of what happened was revealed. How could he have forgotten that? He knew he and Ron would have been the same way, had reacted the same way in light of the same mistakes. They were friends, best mates, and that meant more than Snape's words.
Most of them.
'Your mother is dead because your father was a bigoted idiot who placed too much trust in your lazy, irresponsible, COWARDLY God-father, just as much as anything I did!'
Sorry, Harry, I'm not even going to touch that one. I shouldn't have to. And neither should you.
Harry stood up from the chair, leaving his cloak behind, and headed for the stairs.
"You're right, Sirius. I shouldn't have to deal with any of this, but that doesn't make it go away."
Denial is a tricky thing. It lies in wait, pounces with teeth and claws bared just when you lose touch with it completely, and, funny enough, it has no problems with going right back into hiding, taking things you just can't deal with along with it.