Ship: Harry/Ron (although not physical), James/Lily, Implied Draco/Ron
Word Count: 1739
Warnings: Major Angst, Bad Language, Violence, Murder, Implied Sex, Obsession, Mental Illness.
Summary: Love's close to madness...
A.N. : This story takes place in another reality, so it's non-canon with a few exceptions.
It was raining for days and it didn’t seem to stop. A taxi stopped before an old and ugly building. It looked like it should have been demolished years ago. People walked by, but they didn’t seem to see it, busy making calls and arguing about all sorts of things. A handsome woman with bright green eyes stepped out of the taxi, followed by a spectacled man with messy hair. The man paid the driver and he and the woman walked to the entrance of the shabby building.
“Why, James? Why is this happening to us?” said the woman with tears stinging her eyes.
“I don’t know, honey,” said the man called James. “I hope he has some good news for us.”
“We really could use it,” said the woman. “I can’t take this any longer and it’s not good for our baby.”
“I know, Lily,” said James, while he laid a hand on her belly. “We have to be strong. For the baby and for him.”
“You’re right, James,” said Lily. “Let’s go inside.”
They entered the building and walked through a long and inhospitable gangway to a small counter on the their left. A young woman was sitting behind her desk doing paperwork.
“Miss?” said James. “We have an appointment with Mr. Oldfield.”
“Name?” said the young woman briskly.”
“Potter. James and Lily Potter,” said James, visibly irritated.
“Let me see. Ah yes, here it is. I’ll page him.”
A few minutes later, a short, bold man with tiny glasses walked in the direction of the Potters.
He looked like someone who didn’t see the sun much. His skin was as pale as his long jacket, and he really could use a shave.
“Mr. and Mrs. Potter?” said the man, while shaking the hands of Lily and James. “Oldfield’s the name. Please, follow me.”
They walked through another corridor. Lily’s hands started to shake. She had thought of this moment for weeks and she was haunted again by dark and depressing images of a boy, who wasn’t a boy anymore. Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by a high voice.
“No, no, don’t walk any further, Miss. They’ll come to destroy.”
A young woman appeared out of nowhere and started to push Lily back. She had dirty blonde hair and surprised expression on her face.
“Please, don’t go further,” the woman said, while her hands grabbed Lily’s shoulders. “They like the innocent. Keep your innocent one innocent.”
Before Lily could say or do anything, two large men came running towards the young woman and pulled her away from Lily.
“No!” the woman screamed, while trying to break free. “The Nurgels are there!”
“There, there, Luna,” one of the men said, while binding her hands. “There’s no such thing as Nurgels. They only exist in your mind, love.”
“Nurgels, Nurgels…” said the woman, while the two mean dragged her into another corridor.”
“I’m sorry about that, Mrs. Potter,” said Mr. Oldfield. “She has a gift for escaping her room. She’s really a nice girl, but when she has one of her psychoses, she becomes dangerous, but more to herself then to others.”
“It’s alright,” said Lily a little shocked, while grabbing her husband’s hand. “I never get used to this.”
“Me neither, ma’am,” said Mr. Oldfield darkly. “Oh, here’s my office. Please, come in.”
He led Lily and James into a small office, which looked precisely like the rest of the building: sober and depressing. A painting of a woman doing the dishes gave a little colour to the bright white walls.
“Please sit down,” said Mr. Oldfield.
Lily and James sat down, while they held hands under the desk.
“I’m afraid I have bad news,” said Mr. Oldfield sincerely. “Your son is slowly drifting away and we don’t know exactly why. We really need your help.”
“Please, tell us what to do,” said James, while he tried to suppress his tears. “We’ll do anything you want us to do.”
“We need information about your son. He’s not capable of giving it. When did you notice that Harry was different than other children?”
“It all started when he was seven or eight years old,” said Lily. “He said that he could do special things. At first I played the part, because he’s a child, but when I found him cutting his hair with a scissor, saying that it would re-grow with magic, I really started to worry. But soon after that incident it suddenly stopped. He became very silent and didn’t mention his imaginary gift again, until he was sixteen years old. One night we heard him muttering in his sleep. He was talking about a boy named Ron, and how bad he felt about his scars.”
“Yes, your son mentioned that name many times,” said Mr. Oldfield. “Do you know a Ron?”
“Yes,” said James. “Ron is one of our neighbours’ sons. He’s the same age as Harry. They were sharing classes, since Harry started doing high school.”
“Were they friends?”
“I don’t know,” said Lily insecurely. “He never talked about school and never brought friends with him, but he had a photo of Ron hidden under his bed. When I asked him about it, he said it was none of my business.”
“Maybe Harry fancied the boy,” said Mr. Oldfield.
“Are you implying that my son’s gay?” bellowed James. “He’s really straight!”
“And how do you know that?” said Mr. Oldfield. “Your son barely communicated with you and there’s nothing wrong with being gay, by the way.”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” hissed James.
“James, please,” said Lily. “Arguing doesn’t help Harry.”
“I’m sorry,” mumbled James without looking up. “We live in a small town, and I don’t want rumours about my son.”
“I understand, Mr. Potter,” said Mr. Oldfield. “But if your son’s in love with this Ron, it could be a way to communicate with him. What happened after the photo-incident?”
“He refused to eat or drink and locked himself up in his room for hours,” said Lily. “His grades were dropping, but he didn’t seem to care. He only showed interest for his binoculars. I caught him one or two times, spying the neighbours.”
“Could he be spying Ron?” said Mr. Oldfield, while avoiding the angry stare from James.
“Yes, it could be,” said Lily. “He could look inside the boy’s room.”
“Did you ever find stains on the floor?”
“Stains?” said James loudly, while his cheeks coloured red. “What kind of stains?”
“I mean semen, Mr. Potter,” said Mr. Oldfield slowly.
“S-semen?” stuttered James, while looking at his wife.
“Mr. Oldfield means if our son masturbated, while watching Ron,” said Lily calmly.
“I know what he means, Lily!” shouted James. “But…”
“Yes, I found stains of sperm, but I never made the connection,” said Lily, who felt like her eyes were opened with the force of a strong earthquake. She finally understood…
“That gives us a possible cause for his actions,” said Mr. Oldfield with a soft voice. “Shall we go to him?”
“Y-yes, of course,” stuttered James.
He and his wife followed Mr. Oldfield to a small corridor with several white doors. Mr. Oldfield opened one of them and James and Lily entered the small room.
“Harry, honey, it’s us,” said Lily, while looking at a skinny, neglected young man, who was trying to hide in a corner.
“Release me…” he mumbled, without looking up.
“Don’t come too close, Mrs. Potter,” warned Mr. Oldfield. “He’s dangerous.”
“You don’t have to say that, Mr. Oldfield,” said James. “We know.”
“Where’s Ron?” Harry mumbled, trying to catch a fly with his mouth. His straightjacket blocked his arms and hands.
“Ron’s at home, love,” said Lily. “He’s doing fine.”
“I want Ron!” shouted Harry. “Give me Ron, you fucking whore!”
“Sit down, or you’ll be sedated!” said Mr. Oldfield firmly.
Harry threw an evil grin at him, but did as he’d been told.
“Draco, Draco, talking to ugly ghost-girl…” said Harry absently.
“Draco?” said Mr. Oldfield. “Oh, he means Draco Malfoy. The mayor’s son…”
“Yes,” whispered Lily. “He’s talking more than usual. Is it because we are here?”
“Maybe,” said Mr. Oldfield. “To be honest, I’m as surprised as you.”
“Where’s Dumbledore?” shouted Harry with a wild gaze in his eyes.
“Dumbledore?” said Mr. Oldfield.
“Albus Dumbledore was my grandfather,” said James. “He was the only one, who Harry talked to. He died a couple of months ago.”
“Dead, dead, dead, murdered, murdered,” mumbled Harry.
“No, honey,” said Lily. “He died of old age.”
“You’re dead, too,” said Harry. “He, too.”
“But Harry, we’re not dead,” said James with tears in his eyes.
“Yes, yes, dead, dead, Polyjuiced Death Eaters, traitors, murderers. He’s mine, mine, mine. Mine alone.”
“What are you talking about?” said Lily.
“Ron’s mine. Mine alone. He cannot have him. Love him. Love him.”
“His obsession for this Ron is tearing him apart,” said Mr. Oldfield.
“He touched him. Touched him in private places. Saw it. Saw it. He sucked. He licked. He kissed. He flooded his filth on him. Hate him! Hate him! Hate him!”
“Is he talking about…?” said James shocked.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” said Mr. Oldfield sadly.
“Where is he? Where is he?”
“You mean Draco?” said Lily, her cheeks covered in tears.
“Yes, yes, yes! Bitch! Whore! Cunt! Where is he?!”
“H-he’s dead, Harry,” said James, while he tried to comfort his wife. “You killed him.”
“No, I did not! Did not! Wanted to hurt him! Snape was on time! Saved him! Traitor!”
“No, son,” whispered Lily. “You killed him! Y-you stabbed him several times with a knife.”
“Didn’t mean to! Didn’t mean to! Where’s Ron?”
“Ron doesn’t want to see you again, son,” said James. “You killed his best friend.”
“Ron’s MY best friend. Love him! Love him more than anything! He hugged me! He cried. He saved me! I wanna kiss him. Wanna make love with him!”
“Harry, please…” cried Lily.
“You’re back! You’re back. You’re with me again.”
“Yes, we are, son,” said James.
“Sacrifice! Have to safe Ron! I must!”
“Not a coward. Have to face him last time.”
“Harry!” screamed Lily. “There’s nobody but us.”
“Ron…I open at the end…”
Harry looked at them with wide eyes, and fell to the ground.
“Oh my God,” whispered Dr. Oldfield. “He’s dead.”
Lily couldn’t stop screaming. James just stood there, staring at his son and noticed that Harry looked peacefully at last.