saudade

After they cleaned up the kitchen, they went into Harry’s bedroom because Peter insisted that Harry needed to rest.

“I’m not tired, Pete”, Harry said as they entered his room. This was his room? It didn’t feel like home at all. The only thing familiar to him was the mess.

“But you should rest a bit. The doctor said you shouldn’t do anything exhausting”, Peter insisted.

“I didn’t want to do anything exhausting.”

“You wanted to play basketball!”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not exhausting.”

“Look, it’s great to see you have so much energy again but don’t overdo it, okay?”

“Okay, Pete.” Harry kissed his cheek and took his hand.

Peter smiled. “All right. What do you wanna do then?”

“Can we read a book?”

“Of course. What do you wanna read?”

“I like the Lord of the Rings movies, right?”, Harry asked.

Peter nodded. “They’re your favourites. You could watch them all day without getting bored.”

“Did I ever read the books?”

“I know you own them, but I don’t know if you’ve read them”, Peter admitted.

“Then we’ll read them now.” The truth was Harry couldn’t even remember what happened in the movies, but he wanted to read something to fill the void in his head.

Beside the desk was a little shelf with a couple of books. Harry took one of it. “Is this the first one?”

“No, the first one is The fellowship of the Ring. You took the second book.” Peter gently took the book out of Harry’s hand and handed him the right one.

“Right. I know that of course. I just made a mistake in picking the book”, Harry muttered.

“It’s fine, Harry. No one blames you. Take your time”, Peter assured him.

They sat down in Harry’s bed, Harry's arm was wrapped around Peter who seemed to be a bit stiff, probably because he didn’t want to hurt Harry.

“You can place your head on my chest, it’s not much of a problem, dear”, Harry assured him.

Peter hesitated some seconds but then he did as he was told.

Harry smiled and kissed his temple.

“When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton”, Harry read out, giggling over the strange number of eleventy-first. “Bilbo was very rich and very peculiar, and had been the wonder of the shire for sixty years, ever since his remarkable disappearance and unexpected return.”

Harry continued reading but it didn’t take long until Peter fell asleep, and he put the book aside so he wouldn’t wake him. Now he was alone with the void in his head.

What happened before he woke up in the hospital? When would he be able to remember it again? Why was Peter looking at him as if he’s been away for a long time?

Whatever happened, Harry knew he could trust Peter. His head was aching from desperately trying to remember something his brain didn’t let him remember so Harry feel asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

The Goblin had taken control over Harry’s will. Harry tried to fight back but he had no chance. He was the Goblin’s slave, just like his father had been.

Harry took Peter out to a nice field to have a picknick. A dagger was hidden inside the sleeve of his sweater.

“What do you want to talk about? You said it was serious. Are you okay? I’m worried about you”, Peter said and eyed him in concern.

“I don’t want to do it.”

“Harry, what do you-“

But Harry didn’t leave him the chance to finish his question. He grabbed Peter by his waist and pulled him closer while he pressed his lips against Peter’s. It was a passionate kiss, a kiss they’ve never had before. Harry wanted Peter to know he still had feelings for him.

“Do it now”, the Goblin ordered, “Or I’ll do it.”

If the Goblin did it, it would be much more painful so Harry took the dagger out of his sleeve. His hand was shaking. “I can’t.”

“You can and you will. Remember what I will do with him. How much he will suffer. How he will be begging for death but every time he’s close to it, I’ll pull him back to life – just because you were too weak.”

Harry’s eyes filled with tears as he stabbed the dagger into Peter’s stomach. Warm blood covered his shaking hand.

Their kiss ended abruptly, and Peter’s wide opened eyes stared at him in shock and disbelief.

“I’m sorry, Pete.” Harry tried to prevent his voice from cracking. Then he pulled the dagger out of Peter, making him sink to his knees.

“Why?”, Peter grinded out, blood running out of his mouth. His voice sounded like he was suffocating.

“Because I love you”, Harry whispered and looked him in the eyes for the last time. Those beautiful blue eyes that once meant home to him and that were the expression of pure pain and suffering now.

Harry turned around and left, cleaning the blood from the blade, and leaving Peter bleed to death.

It was dark in the room and when Harry woke up, he didn’t know where he was. The events of his dream were way too present but Peter’s even breathing reminded him of home. And he was at home.

Harry freed himself from Peter’s grip, careful not to wake Peter. He needed to get away from him. What if he accidently hurts him? What was the meaning of this dream? Why would he dream of something horrible like that? Was he dangerous?

Harry went on the balcony and sat down in a corner. He didn’t notice the cold outside. All he noticed was his dream – every single detail of it. Had it something to do with the time of his life he couldn’t remember? If yes, he was scared of the person he has become. If not, why would he have such dreams? What if he was a criminal? What if he hurt Peter?

“Why can’t I remember?”, he shouted into the sky.

Harry drew up his knees and bowed his head, trying to hide from the world. Everything felt so wrong. He had no place in his own life. His home didn’t feel like home and that he didn’t know who he actually was, scared him. He feared that he had done horrible, inexcusable things.

Why didn’t he die in the accident? It would’ve been so much easier for everyone. He wouldn’t be in the situation he was now; Peter would be out of danger …

“Harry? What are you doing here in the cold?”, Peter asked. It was clear that Harry woke him. “I heard you scream. What happened?”

“Get away from me”, Harry exclaimed as Peter approached him. “It’s for your own safety. I don’t know what I’m able to do.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me”, Peter assured him but after the dream he just had, Harry couldn’t believe it.

“I don’t even really know who I am so you can’t be sure of that. I’m dangerous, don’t you understand?” Tears found their way out of his eyes, but he wiped them away. Peter shouldn’t see them.

“But I know you.”

“How can you be sure I didn’t change? How do you know I’m not a monster?”, Harry asked. He needed answers.

“Why would you think of something like that?”

“Pete, please, I need to know the truth. I’m so scared. If you knew what’s going on inside my head, you’d be scared as well.”

“You had a nightmare, right?”, Peter assumed. Harry nodded. “What happened in your dream?”

“You’d hate me if I told you, believe me.”

Peter knelt before him. “Whatever happened in your dream, remember, it was just a dream. Nothing of it is real. I’d never hate you. There’s nothing you could do to make me hate you.”

Somehow, Harry believed him. He knew Peter said the truth about not being able to hate him.

“And please, don’t ever think of yourself as a monster again, okay? Because you aren’t. You’re not alone with your inner struggles. I’m there for you and if I’m not enough, you have a therapist who will help you.”

“Why do I have a therapist?”, Harry asked in confusion.

“To help you deal with your grief. And now we get you inside, okay? You must be really cold.”

Peter took Harry’s hand and guided him inside the house.

“Pete, fix me, please”, Harry whispered, trying to suppress the tears that were looking for a way to the surface.

“I’ll try my best, I promise.” Peter sealed his promise with a soft kiss on Harry’s forehead.