By Design
By Design
Severus winced as he pressed the glass into a vein a little too hard, pushing what little magic he was allowed to have into the wound to prevent any excessive bleeding. Once it slowed to normal levels, he continued adding to the design he’d spent the last several weeks carving into his arm. He’d run out of wall space in his cell and if he didn’t put his despair somewhere, he would do exactly what they’d thought he would years ago when they ‘accidentally’ left a shard of glass behind after a session.
He desperately wanted to do just that, but he also couldn’t fathom giving them the satisfaction. He’d lasted under their ‘care’ for four years now; it had become a battle of endurance now. They were well aware he’d broken long ago. After all, he’d been their captive for four years and hadn’t even attempted an escape or any kind of fight in two and a half. Now it was just a waiting game to see how long he would exist all on his own with little magic, weekly sessions to torment his mind and body, and a shard of glass.
So, he continued his aimless design, dragging the glass across his dirty, sallow skin to leave behind deep, but thin lines as his mind drifted on the pain he hardly registered.
Then…there were noises. That wasn’t unexpected, there were often noises from the other prisoners as the Death Eaters came for them. These noises, though, were different. They were muffled, chaotic…they sounded like a fight.
He listened, not bothering to get up or prepare for a fight himself. Whatever or whoever was there, if they came for him, could do what they liked. Their world had been lost long ago, any semblance of life for him with it; there was nothing to fight for.
So, when the door to his cell swung open slowly, he just watched, turning over the shard of glass in his fingers. Then he saw who it was and his eyes widened, the glass falling from his fingers.
“Potter?” he said in disbelief, his voice gravelly from both lack of use and excessive screaming.
The boy…
Certainly not. It had been four years.
The young man was leaning against the frame of his cell so casually, arms crossed as he gazed at Severus with a gentle, lopsided smile.
Except…it was impossible. Harry Potter had died four years ago. That day when it was all meant to end, Potter had died…Voldemort had won.
“You’re alive?” Severus said and Potter glanced down at himself before looking back at him, clearly amused.
“I think so,” Potter quipped.
“How? Dumbledore’s plan…”
“Yeah, I wasn’t sold on the whole die for the cause plan, not after everything this entire world has done to me…to us,” Potter said and Severus frowned. “Not a thing was real. Not my friends, not the Order, none of it. It was all a lie to manipulate me into that very plan. I found out and said bugger that. Made my own plan. I’m sorry it took so long. Had to find some things.”
Severus looked at him suspiciously. “Like?”
“Just some things that gave me access to a pretty great ally and power,” Potter told him vaguely.
“And you came back?” Severus asked.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Potter said, a smile back on his face.
“Why?”
“Oh, well, they’re all dead,” Potter said lightly and Severus’ eyes narrowed skeptically. “No, really. Dumbledore, the Order, the Death Eaters, Voldemort…all gone.”
“And now you’re here? Why?” Severus questioned.
“For you.”
Severus’ eyebrows furrowed deeply. “Why me?”
“Because I think we could create a pretty brilliant world together after everything they did to us,” Potter told him. “Because it’s over. You’re free. We both are.”
Free? What did that even mean?
“Come with me,” Potter said quietly with the slightest hint of imploring. “Let’s be everything they thought we couldn’t be.”
And, for some reason he couldn’t explain, the words dragged Severus to his feet. He held himself on the wall, his legs shaky and struggling to hold his weight, and he glanced down at his arm. Small trickles of blood were still running from his fresh slices, but he realized what he’d drawn.
In the swooping design were delicate, calligraphic letters.
H P
Fin