Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Never Ending Story


by Saskya 0 reviews

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: G - Genres: Drama,Romance - Published: 2010-04-10 - Updated: 2010-04-10 - 2953 words


There is someone searching for me. Everywhere I turn there he is, asking questions, peering around corners, watching me. I don't understand why, I have been careful. So careful. It is as though I am back there again, back to where I must pretend I don't exist. Back to where I must hide from everyone, hide even from myself. There is no reason for him to be searching for me. Have forgotten something, have I let something slip. I can't think of it, is my mind slipping? Is that what it is? Is my mind just playing games? Creating drama? Scaring me?

Of all people, why did it have to be him? I have to do something that I know, anything to get him to look another way. Any way, but my way.

He was never meant to be apart of this.

Why won't he just leave things be? It doesn't concern him, but yet he keeps pushing, and pushing. It's suffocating me. I am floating and the sea and the waves are crashes around me, and I am going with the tide, but every so often he pushes me and I am at war with the tide, with the flow of the side and it rages with my body, dragging it further down to it's belly. It's black abyss. Will I ever be free? Will I ever be able to breath again?

He has questions, I understand his need for answers, but what makes him believe I have them? Because I don't, I never did, they always belongs to someone else. Never me. I have questions too, yet there is no one who holds my answers, after everything how is that fair?

I have to do something...

I have to do something...

I have to do something...

But what?

I haven't seen him in two days and I can feel my body start to yearn for him. He is my air, he is my oxygen, he is my breath. I am drowning in my sea and for once, in so long, he is not saving me, he is not pulling my out. He is doing nothing; he is letting me drown. And for what?

Have I ruined everything? I thought I was content with my silent torment, but now I don't even have that, because I couldn't restrain myself, I couldn't let him go. I couldn't let time pass.

Have I condemned myself? Am I to suffer alone now? Are we only given a certain amount of time with those we love, and if so have I used all mine up? Did I abuse it? I take him for granted?

All these questions, and yet no answers. Let him search for me, let him scour heaven, hell and earth for me, let him find me.

For he will find nothing.

- - - N . E . S - - -

A PINPRICK of light broke through the darkness, and then webs of golden string shot out, sparkling with tiny reflections. They never creased; they never broke, they were never ending. It was a continuous stream of gold, different shades rippling down the length of the light. It illuminated nothing, but it was the only light in the black chasm.

Her hands tentatively reached out, she did not want to break the strands of light, but she seeked their warmth she believed they would posses. But there was nothing. She closed her eyes and felt a loss. There was no feeling, no sign, no indication of their existence. They were there; she believed that, for she could see them. And if she could see them, then they must be there. But she could not touch them and she could not feel them. In her mind she reasoned they were ghosts.

She felt at peace with this knowledge, that she was not truly alone, like the golden beams, she too was ghost. Only ever seen by the world, but touched and never felt. She was an illusion played on the minds of all who thought to have seen a girl, but once they looked back she was always gone.

She neither felt a sense bitterness nor animosity for her state of being. It had become apart of her; apart of who she was now. Sometimes, when she tried hard enough she forgot about a time when she knew any better.

But here, swallowed so completely in darkness, so was left with nothing but her thoughts. But none of it mattered. The beams of light did not judge her, they did not question her, the y were simply there sharing the same moment of time with her, sharing this memory.

She kept running her hands through the sparkling light, her eyes never wavering. She would keep them here; keep them real. All she had to do was see them. To see her hand pass through, and know that just because there was no proof then what she believed didn't make them any less real.

As her hand continued to pass between them, she felt the air inside of the light grow heavy. Slowly they came together, thousands of strings started intertwining round her hand, wrapping around others, criss-crossing. To her eyes, the beams were dancing a form of intricate chorography to which only they knew. They movement were smooth and delicate as though they had performed the show time and time again. They glided down into different placements all waiting for the next stage of the recital to begin. Until finally it formed an elaborate weave; a golden chain.

When she dared reach out again to pass her hand through them once more, she couldn't. The soft chain bent against her skin, the cold steel links grinding together to mould around her hand. Just like everything, the golden strings had changed. They moved forward and she was still stuck. Stuck as what she had been for so long.

A soft whisper filled her ears, but she couldn't make anything out. Straining, she tried to move her feet, tried to move forward, but nothing happened. She didn't move, she couldn't. Her muscles were frozen in place, she almost gave in, but then her eyes caught the chain. Reaching out, she gently placed both her hands onto the interconnecting links and pulled. There was a shift and then the whisper grew louder. Spurred on, she pulled again and again, the whisper growing louder once more.

She watched as she drew the chain through her fingers, the pinprick of light silhouette into a distant figure. The whispers resonating from its center. It wasn't until the figure was half the distance away, that she realized that she wasn't moving at all. She was still stuck in the same spot she had always been in. As she pulled, all she did was move the far-off figure closer.

Her hands almost dropped the chain, but as her gripped loosened the chain traveled through her fingers on it's own, pulling itself closer to her. Closing her eyes, she pushed everything out but the feel of the cold steel slithering beneath her fingertips. It felt alive; it was something with a purpose, something with an end.

She felt the chain stop and rest heavily in her hands; her ears were once again filled with soft whispers. It was a girl, she was crying. She didn't dare open her eyes. She could feel the pain in the girl's voice, as though it was a harsh wind against her skin.

It was a hollow weep, a defeated whimper. The more she tried to ignore the girl, the louder her cried became. The louder her whispers could be heard. The girl kept repeating the same words over and over. Her sentences were jutted and every syllable sounded the same as the one before. There was no change, not in her tone, not in her pitch. It simply grew louder. The words felt solid; they coiled around her body, entwining themselves around her limbs, suffocating her until at last she opened her eyes.

The girl's face was hidden in an unnatural shadow, her hair hung down limply on the sides of her face. She sat on her knees, her hands rhythmically clenching to their own beat. It appeared as though she was sitting on a golden rock, its surface polished and reflective.

Looking at the girl, she noticed her posture never changed, her hair never wavered. She was frozen, except for her lips. They continuously sung the same words through out the dark void.

" It's all a dream..."

" It's all a dream..."

" It's all a dream..."

As she watched the never-ending chorus, shivers swam down her arms, the hairs standing on end. Her eyes seemed transfixed on the girl; she thought her eyes should be dry, for she did not even blink. It was then that she realized that as the girl cried she was crying along with her.

She only tore her eyes away, when the forgotten weight in her hands began to move yet again. She couldn't' bare to be closer to this phantom, the closer the girl got, the more she could see. The alignment of her face, the curve of her lips, the shade of her eyes. Everything. It was a mirror she had never wished to look in. It was a memory she had never wished to remember.

Fighting the pull of the chain, she dropped her hands. But the chained, suspended in the air, continued to course forward. Drawing the nightmare closer and closer, until it was right before her. It was only then that she finally saw the golden rock for what it really was. A colossal pocket watch, the gold chain looped through the eye at the top, in front of the kneeling girl.

With the clock so close, she could now see the face, the roman numerals staring back at her, a circle the same size as her palm revealing it's cogs and wheels churning around. With it so close, she could now the clocks hands shift and tick by. She could now she with every repeat of the girl's cry the hands rewind and start again.

The hour hand sat steady on the nine, and the minute hand slowly moving around from five to ten.

" It's all a dream..."

And then more slowly then before, it crept back up the clock face to land on the five once more. Her hands shaking, she blinked, only to miss the hand jolt and start back towards the ten.

She felt her knees grow weak, but they would not let her fall, still she was stuck just as she always had been. When the realization that she could not escape, that she could not hide from the blatant truth flaring before her, she crumbled. Her entire body shook with tears she had not let fall until now. Her throat constricted upon itself and her eyes stung. Her chest seemed to crack open, and every emotion; every feeling she had buried deep inside was shoveled out, leaving her bare and baron. She had nothing left, but the truth and it was too much.

It coursed through her like venom, sucking her dry of everything she had tried so hard to hold on to. Everything that made her take one breathe after another. Everything that made her live.

She never thought the emptiness would end, but then she just felt nothing. She felt like a shell, a vessel full of vast air. She had no substance, no purpose, no will. She just was.

With a jerk, she brought her hands to her face, thrashing them about on her skull.

"It's all a dream..." she screamed, "It's all a dream..."

"Wake up!"

Suddenly, she was blinded by morning light, as her eyes snapped open. Looking around, she could feel every object, every item she owned get processed with her brain; she could feel her mind catalogue everything. But she didn't need this to know, the moment she opened her eyes she knew. Something was wrong. This was all wrong. The walls were wrong.

She kept repeating it over and over, 'the walls were wrong, the walls were wrong, the walls were wrong'. But how, she hadn't changed them, she would never change them. But who would? Who would know what they meant, what they represented? No one.

No one, but him.

Wrenching the sheets back, she pulled a sweater over her head, never registering where she grabbed it from. Throwing a pair of shoes on, she ran from the room, she ran a path she had worn into the stone. She had walked this path she often, she knew every turn and every corner she could walk it blindfolded.

Take the steps down to the dungeons two at a time, she came to stop before the one door she never thought she would ever be in front of again. She had to make sure; she had to be certain before she went barging in there. What if she was wrong, what if her mind was playing more of their games?

But what if they weren't?

Before she could stop herself, her hand was only the handle. There was nothing she could do now but wait, wait and see if she was right, all she could do was wait and see if everything had gone horribly wrong.

She didn't know if she should cry out of happiness or sadness, when the door shifted forward allowing her to enter a room she had seen thousands of times but had not stepped foot in, in over a month.

Heaving a deep breath, she took one foot and placed it in front of the other. Could she do this to herself, if this was all just some trick, could she really do this? Taking another step, she was resolved to find out one way or another.

She was not prepared for what she saw, just like the room; it was a sight that had been burned into her memory. There he sat, his feet slung over the arm of high backed desk chair, the leather studs framing his face, as he bent over a book, his eyes drinking in every word.

It was then that her knees finally feel, she landed with a thud, drawing the boy's attention. It was then that the real tears feel, when he looked upon her with recognition and concern. He was back. He was back and she didn't care if it was some game, if it was all just some kind of trick, for this moment, for right now she had him back.

Placing the book on the desk, he got to his feet and made the short trip to her, bending down he pulled her up and into his arms. The smell of him, the feel of him overloaded every part of her. He seeped within her soul and she felt whole for the first time in such long time. She gathered him closer, pulling and scratching at his clothes, anything to bring him as near as possible. She couldn't stop herself, she feel into him crying with everything she had thought she had lost. It didn't matter that she was once again trapped, that she was lost once more. She would be lost with him and together they would simply remember and it was fine. She was happy and content to just remember, if she could remember with him.

She felt him pull back and she struggled against him, she wasn't ready to let go, not yet. Just not yet. She felt his hands gently rub patterns down her back, warming away the chill that had crept into her bones over the past five weeks. Five weeks, it seemed so much longer. With him finally in her arms again it felt like years.

"Hey, what's going on?" he soothed into her hair, "hmmm, what's got you so upset?"

She just shook her head; it didn't matter. Right now nothing matter to her. She was finally back where she felt she could be herself. It felt strange to think that, but it was true, she had always believed that they had spent their lives hiding, but they hadn't, together they had found themselves. And now she had found him again.

" Come on, tell me what's wrong," he cooed.

"Nothing, it was all just a dream, I'm fine. It was all just a dream..." she replied.

"A dream made you this upset?" he brushed a stray hair aside, as he gently placed a kiss on her forehead, "But my Rose, how do you know that this is not the dream?"

Finally pulling back, she faced him, his stormy eyes staring right to the core of her; the intensity within them was electric. What was he saying? It made no sense.

"Scorpius, I don't understand... I don't know..."

He placed a soft finger to her lips, silencing her, "Shhh, oh my Rose, I have missed you," he pulled her into his arms once more, squeezing her tenderly, "but my dear, dear Rose it's time to wake up."

- - - N . E . S - - -

A SCREAM cut through the night, piercing the heaven's sleep. It was a scream that no one could find, it came from nowhere and everywhere. It was a scream filled with hidden pain and torment. It was a scream that was never meant to be heard, but it had gotten free, it had escaped it's hard iron clad cage and wrenched it's way to the surface and no amount of effort would could put it back. It had ripped its way through what every creature that had kept it captive and left nothing but a hole.
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