(no subject)
Who? Harry Potter
What? Burning away bridges while laughing at memories.
When? Now
Why? Why not?
Title: How Not to Save a Life.
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry Potter always enjoyed a good comedy. He just wonders why he is the only one laughing.
Author's notes: I had to let him do something. He keeps laughing in my head and honestly it's creeping me out.
It wasn't that Harry couldn't see what his state of mind was doing to the people he loved. He registered the anger and hurt in Ginny's eyes. He took note of the worry in his godfather's gaze. It wasn't that he was ignoring the fact that his mother and little sister were in a state of grieving given Sev's latest stunt. Harry was well aware that his children were worried and confused. That other people were grieving and worried. He understood that his father, Remus and Sirius were probably trying to figure out how to break through to him. He got it. All of it.
He just didn't care.
For hours he stayed holed up in the attic of 12 Grimmauld place. Draco needed to deal with Pansy on his own and it was just as well. Harry couldn't grieve for her. It wasn't even the fact she had tortured Hermione. It was the fact that Harry wasn't capable of grieving for anyone. Not the people who didn't survive the prison break. Not his aurors. Not the death eaters. He'd tried. He'd tried to reach deep inside him to pull out something beyond indifference and fell flat.
But at least he kept laughing.
It was better than tears was it not? He'd stare at the ceiling and replay the series of events that lead him to this attic floor. Every choice he'd made. Every time he turned left instead of right because his instinct told him too. He was the boy who lived. Thinking on his feet was supposed to be his strong point. He searched through his mind for that clue he missed in the prison that Severus was playing with him. That tiny flicker in dark eyes, the faintest trace of a smile, something that told him this had been a set up. There was nothing. He'd played Harry like a violin.
Harry laughed again.
With his wand in his left hand he held it pointed at a spider making a web on the ceiling. It moved around, spinning it's web, preparing it's trap for any bug stupid enough to fall into it. It was completely oblivious to the wizard holding a wand on it. It had no idea how close it was to ceasing to exist. Two words. Just two words. Say it, Harry Potter, say it and mean it.
"Avada Kev...
And the spider was spared because the wizard howled with laughter as he dropped the wand and cradled his ribs. He laughed so hard that he was sure he would make himself sick. He wondered if it had been as good for Severus as it was for Harry now. Was the desperate attempt at saving his life from the boy who had never quite understood him making him roll around laughing too? Merlin, Harry hoped so. He'd hate to be the only one laughing.
He'd secured the door so no one could come up. Harry didn't want to see any of them. They were the reason he was still breathing. They were the reason he refused to walk back into that battle, laughing as he waited for death to come and get him. Living is harder, and he hated that he lived for them. Resented each and every one of them for being a tie that kept him here. It was because of them that he came back the last time.
He threw his head back and howled with laughter again. His good hand reached up to wipe the tears from his eyes. That had been a brilliant plan hadn't it? He came back to save them. Bloody good job that had been. It hadn't ended anything. Oh he was such a foolish git. Blindly he had believed them. Followed their advice or took strength from their faith in him. They were as foolish as he was. They should look at their hero now. Rolling around on the dirty attic floor as he laughed at himself. At them. At the war. At every brilliant plan that didn't quite go off without a hitch. Every victory, every loss, it was so amusing to him now.
How could he have missed the humor before now?
Harry wondered if he had managed to kill Severus if he would have still snapped. Would he have ran through the prison singing, "I killed Severus Snape."
Oh Bellatrix, beautifully fucked up Bellatrix, she tried to break him. Carrow did his best as well. Hell, even Voldemort had given it a go or two, but none of them had quite pulled it off the way that Severus had. He'd been such a fool. Such a stupid fool to trust his heart. To believe in love being enough to save someone as far gone as Severus.
As far gone as Harry.
He'd went back for that git after his master killed him. Nearly threw his back out to carry him back so he could have a proper burial. Fought with the Ministry to have him honored as a hero. Named his son after him. And he'd told him hadn't he? Hadn't Severus told him not to call him a hero? Not to believe in him? Harry had ignored him. Thought it was Severus being humble.
Severus Snape humble? Harry laughed harder. He really was such a foolish child at times.
He'd charged into that shack again to save him. To drag him back to the castle and help him mend. He'd finally said the spell to blast one of those spiders out of the way. Baby Potter's first Avada Kedavra had been to save Severus. It always came back to that fucking shack.
It really did.
He got off the floor and didn't bother to dust the dirt off. Grabbed his wand and threw the door open. He headed down the stairs and refused to stop for anyone he might have passed on his way. Didn't even register who could have possibly seen him. He was moving with the quiet determination that had lead him toward Horcruxes, Hallows, and everything else he had faced over the years.
Headed straight for his motorbike and started it up. Fuck a helmet. He needed the air whipping around his face. He needed the hair blowing in all directions. He needed that reminder that he had chosen to live. If he was going to live then by Merlin he was going to do it properly. He parked the bike at Hog's Head and slapped his gold on the table while Ab was waiting on a customer. Grabbed a bottle of tequila and headed right back out. Made his way toward the shack and laughed. Just laughed as he paused only to take a long swig of his muggle liquor.
Vile. Nasty drink.
Yes, Sirius, it really is, but that was what he wanted. Something vile and nasty because that was what this shack had become to him. It no longer represented his reunion with his godfather. It no longer reminded him of the innocence the Marauders once had before they were betrayed by their own personal Judas. His fathers had Peter. Harry had Severus.
Severus had tainted this place. Both in death and in life and he was ready to purge him from it.
Running as fast as he could through the passage, he felt his lungs burn in protest because he was pushing himself to go faster. Move, Potter, a little faster, can't be late. You know this castle like the back of your hand. Careful, now, make sure you jump clear of the swamp. He jumped it fine and ran through the halls ignoring Nearly Headless Nick, and Peeves as he made his way to the headmaster's office.
"Password?"
"Lemon Drop"
Nothing happened.
"Dumbledore."
Nothing happened.
Letting out a growl of frustration he narrowed his eyes and said, "Chocolate Frogs."
The door opened. Thank Merlin. He ran up the stairs and headed straight for the wall of portraits. With a dangerous look in his eyes he grabbed Godric's sword and Sev's portrait.
"Put those back this instant, Potter," Phineas warned him. He shut up with the tip of the sword was pointed at his throat. "None of that now."
Harry wasn't sure if Phineas would rat him out to his godfather or not, but at this point he honestly didn't care. He headed back toward the stairs, running just as fast as he had to get there. Made his way through the halls and then through the tunnel to get back to the shack. This was juvenile. It was pointless. It was stupid really. Harry didn't care. He was still laughing as he tossed the portrait on top of the broken piano. He used his right hand to bring the sword down across the canvas, again and again. It hurt, but it was supposed to hurt. He wanted the physical pain because he couldn't feel the emotional pain anymore. Retrieving his bottle of tequila he took another long drink. Then another. He could feel the alcohol warming him from the inside out.
With that same dangerous look in his eyes he laughed and said, "Should have left your corpse here to rot. Should have let you bleed out here. Quiet that heart? I'll quiet it all right." He took another long drink and then poured the liquor over Sev's portrait and around the room. When only a quarter of the bottle remained he did the charm to refill it. He continued to take random swigs from the bottle inbetween drenching the shack in the alcohol. Whenever it got low he'd refill it. By the time he was done, he was more than a little drunk and still laughing.
"Not quite a viking funeral, but it will do. Goodbye, Professor."
Harry Potter said the charm to produce the flames and cast them in various corners of the shack. The flames danced bright and hot as they caught the alcohol that acted as an accelerant. That's right, burn. Burn all the way down. Let something die and not rise from the ashes. He watched with a wild look in his eyes as the flames danced closer and closer to him. He was laughing, his good hand wrapped around the bottle, his injured hand around the wand, and at the last possible moment, he went out the window to safety, landing easily on the ground without injury.
Moving back, he watched with a delighted smile and bright eyes as the fire took hold and made it burn.
He didn't care if he would get in trouble for it. He didn't care if someone found him here, watching the destruction, watching some piece of Severus burn and stay gone, while Harry laughed as hard as he could. Plopping down on the grass, he drew his knees to his chest, and continued to drink. Waiting.
Because someone would come. They always did. But for now? Harry Friggen' Potter was enjoying the show. He always did enjoy a quality comedy.
What? Burning away bridges while laughing at memories.
When? Now
Why? Why not?
Title: How Not to Save a Life.
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry Potter always enjoyed a good comedy. He just wonders why he is the only one laughing.
Author's notes: I had to let him do something. He keeps laughing in my head and honestly it's creeping me out.
It wasn't that Harry couldn't see what his state of mind was doing to the people he loved. He registered the anger and hurt in Ginny's eyes. He took note of the worry in his godfather's gaze. It wasn't that he was ignoring the fact that his mother and little sister were in a state of grieving given Sev's latest stunt. Harry was well aware that his children were worried and confused. That other people were grieving and worried. He understood that his father, Remus and Sirius were probably trying to figure out how to break through to him. He got it. All of it.
He just didn't care.
For hours he stayed holed up in the attic of 12 Grimmauld place. Draco needed to deal with Pansy on his own and it was just as well. Harry couldn't grieve for her. It wasn't even the fact she had tortured Hermione. It was the fact that Harry wasn't capable of grieving for anyone. Not the people who didn't survive the prison break. Not his aurors. Not the death eaters. He'd tried. He'd tried to reach deep inside him to pull out something beyond indifference and fell flat.
But at least he kept laughing.
It was better than tears was it not? He'd stare at the ceiling and replay the series of events that lead him to this attic floor. Every choice he'd made. Every time he turned left instead of right because his instinct told him too. He was the boy who lived. Thinking on his feet was supposed to be his strong point. He searched through his mind for that clue he missed in the prison that Severus was playing with him. That tiny flicker in dark eyes, the faintest trace of a smile, something that told him this had been a set up. There was nothing. He'd played Harry like a violin.
Harry laughed again.
With his wand in his left hand he held it pointed at a spider making a web on the ceiling. It moved around, spinning it's web, preparing it's trap for any bug stupid enough to fall into it. It was completely oblivious to the wizard holding a wand on it. It had no idea how close it was to ceasing to exist. Two words. Just two words. Say it, Harry Potter, say it and mean it.
"Avada Kev...
And the spider was spared because the wizard howled with laughter as he dropped the wand and cradled his ribs. He laughed so hard that he was sure he would make himself sick. He wondered if it had been as good for Severus as it was for Harry now. Was the desperate attempt at saving his life from the boy who had never quite understood him making him roll around laughing too? Merlin, Harry hoped so. He'd hate to be the only one laughing.
He'd secured the door so no one could come up. Harry didn't want to see any of them. They were the reason he was still breathing. They were the reason he refused to walk back into that battle, laughing as he waited for death to come and get him. Living is harder, and he hated that he lived for them. Resented each and every one of them for being a tie that kept him here. It was because of them that he came back the last time.
He threw his head back and howled with laughter again. His good hand reached up to wipe the tears from his eyes. That had been a brilliant plan hadn't it? He came back to save them. Bloody good job that had been. It hadn't ended anything. Oh he was such a foolish git. Blindly he had believed them. Followed their advice or took strength from their faith in him. They were as foolish as he was. They should look at their hero now. Rolling around on the dirty attic floor as he laughed at himself. At them. At the war. At every brilliant plan that didn't quite go off without a hitch. Every victory, every loss, it was so amusing to him now.
How could he have missed the humor before now?
Harry wondered if he had managed to kill Severus if he would have still snapped. Would he have ran through the prison singing, "I killed Severus Snape."
Oh Bellatrix, beautifully fucked up Bellatrix, she tried to break him. Carrow did his best as well. Hell, even Voldemort had given it a go or two, but none of them had quite pulled it off the way that Severus had. He'd been such a fool. Such a stupid fool to trust his heart. To believe in love being enough to save someone as far gone as Severus.
As far gone as Harry.
He'd went back for that git after his master killed him. Nearly threw his back out to carry him back so he could have a proper burial. Fought with the Ministry to have him honored as a hero. Named his son after him. And he'd told him hadn't he? Hadn't Severus told him not to call him a hero? Not to believe in him? Harry had ignored him. Thought it was Severus being humble.
Severus Snape humble? Harry laughed harder. He really was such a foolish child at times.
He'd charged into that shack again to save him. To drag him back to the castle and help him mend. He'd finally said the spell to blast one of those spiders out of the way. Baby Potter's first Avada Kedavra had been to save Severus. It always came back to that fucking shack.
It really did.
He got off the floor and didn't bother to dust the dirt off. Grabbed his wand and threw the door open. He headed down the stairs and refused to stop for anyone he might have passed on his way. Didn't even register who could have possibly seen him. He was moving with the quiet determination that had lead him toward Horcruxes, Hallows, and everything else he had faced over the years.
Headed straight for his motorbike and started it up. Fuck a helmet. He needed the air whipping around his face. He needed the hair blowing in all directions. He needed that reminder that he had chosen to live. If he was going to live then by Merlin he was going to do it properly. He parked the bike at Hog's Head and slapped his gold on the table while Ab was waiting on a customer. Grabbed a bottle of tequila and headed right back out. Made his way toward the shack and laughed. Just laughed as he paused only to take a long swig of his muggle liquor.
Vile. Nasty drink.
Yes, Sirius, it really is, but that was what he wanted. Something vile and nasty because that was what this shack had become to him. It no longer represented his reunion with his godfather. It no longer reminded him of the innocence the Marauders once had before they were betrayed by their own personal Judas. His fathers had Peter. Harry had Severus.
Severus had tainted this place. Both in death and in life and he was ready to purge him from it.
Running as fast as he could through the passage, he felt his lungs burn in protest because he was pushing himself to go faster. Move, Potter, a little faster, can't be late. You know this castle like the back of your hand. Careful, now, make sure you jump clear of the swamp. He jumped it fine and ran through the halls ignoring Nearly Headless Nick, and Peeves as he made his way to the headmaster's office.
"Password?"
"Lemon Drop"
Nothing happened.
"Dumbledore."
Nothing happened.
Letting out a growl of frustration he narrowed his eyes and said, "Chocolate Frogs."
The door opened. Thank Merlin. He ran up the stairs and headed straight for the wall of portraits. With a dangerous look in his eyes he grabbed Godric's sword and Sev's portrait.
"Put those back this instant, Potter," Phineas warned him. He shut up with the tip of the sword was pointed at his throat. "None of that now."
Harry wasn't sure if Phineas would rat him out to his godfather or not, but at this point he honestly didn't care. He headed back toward the stairs, running just as fast as he had to get there. Made his way through the halls and then through the tunnel to get back to the shack. This was juvenile. It was pointless. It was stupid really. Harry didn't care. He was still laughing as he tossed the portrait on top of the broken piano. He used his right hand to bring the sword down across the canvas, again and again. It hurt, but it was supposed to hurt. He wanted the physical pain because he couldn't feel the emotional pain anymore. Retrieving his bottle of tequila he took another long drink. Then another. He could feel the alcohol warming him from the inside out.
With that same dangerous look in his eyes he laughed and said, "Should have left your corpse here to rot. Should have let you bleed out here. Quiet that heart? I'll quiet it all right." He took another long drink and then poured the liquor over Sev's portrait and around the room. When only a quarter of the bottle remained he did the charm to refill it. He continued to take random swigs from the bottle inbetween drenching the shack in the alcohol. Whenever it got low he'd refill it. By the time he was done, he was more than a little drunk and still laughing.
"Not quite a viking funeral, but it will do. Goodbye, Professor."
Harry Potter said the charm to produce the flames and cast them in various corners of the shack. The flames danced bright and hot as they caught the alcohol that acted as an accelerant. That's right, burn. Burn all the way down. Let something die and not rise from the ashes. He watched with a wild look in his eyes as the flames danced closer and closer to him. He was laughing, his good hand wrapped around the bottle, his injured hand around the wand, and at the last possible moment, he went out the window to safety, landing easily on the ground without injury.
Moving back, he watched with a delighted smile and bright eyes as the fire took hold and made it burn.
He didn't care if he would get in trouble for it. He didn't care if someone found him here, watching the destruction, watching some piece of Severus burn and stay gone, while Harry laughed as hard as he could. Plopping down on the grass, he drew his knees to his chest, and continued to drink. Waiting.
Because someone would come. They always did. But for now? Harry Friggen' Potter was enjoying the show. He always did enjoy a quality comedy.