Without You.

Chapter13: Ash

Harry was groping his way, seeing absolutely nothing in that dark room like tar. Arms forward, he was trying to find his way. Where was he ? How did he get there? His mind was totally empty of all memories. The total black hole. He had the uncomfortable feeling that his entire body was burning but, touching his limbs, he could not see anything abnormal. As if ... as if everything was going on in his head.

Harry frowned as he continued to move on. His foot outlined an arc on the ground to feel the ground. But there was nothing. A small cold wind began to blow gently. The wizard closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation. Then the wind turned into a squall. The storm in storm.

The brunette curled up a little on himself when he felt unidentified objects whipping his face. Where was he by Merlin? He wanted to know so much. In his body, a sensation of lack took possession of him. Something was missing. Someone was missing. But what was it? He did not remember anything. Absolutely nothing.

One arm hiding his eyes so as not to hurt himself, the other stretched forward, he continued to move forward as if his life depended on it. He had to move from here, someone had to wait for him.

He remembered having ... to have been happy. Love. He had not been in his life often, but the last few months he had lived had been wonderful. He remembered it. Vaguely. But still. It was anchored in him. Like a light in the darkness, hope lightened her heart. He did not know why, but all those feelings were real, he was certain. That was what gave him the strength to move forward despite the wind that was blowing louder and louder, almost giving him the impression that he wanted to annoy him.

His breath caught in his throat as his fingers met a wall. Heart pounding, Harry left his hand on the smooth surface, breathing for a moment. The wind had suddenly come to you. Too suddenly for this to be real. But Harry did not notice, more tired than ever, he closed his eyes ...

That he reopened quickly.

He felt a liquid flow on his hand. Viscous. Thick. Hot. An odor of iron rose quickly, forcing him to cover his nose with his left sleeve. That ... It smelled like death. The blood. The Gryffindor suddenly felt like throwing up. He withdrew his hand violently, but his fingers remained sticky.

"You are pitiful. "

The voice made him jump. Harry turned to try to distinguish who had just spoken. Illusory movement in this thick darkness. And then that familiar voice came from everywhere. We could still hear the echo all around him. The Savior frowned, trying to remember who she belonged to.

"You are lamentable. "

Nibbling his lower lip, the wizard forced himself to say nothing, although he wanted to scream that it was not true. Whoever it was, that voice was wrong. That he was neither pitiful nor lamentable. And that she had no reason to tell him all that.

" You are alone. "

"That's wrong," he finally screamed in front of him.

He clenched his fists along his body, feeling drops escape from his right hand to crash to the ground in a disgusting "plop". He turned on himself to try to see something. Wasted effort. Here, everything was darker than the deepest abysses.

A laugh that froze him completely echoed around him, echoing in the depths of his soul. That laugh ... he had heard it before.

"You are an incapable and pitiful monster. "

Gently and trying his best to ignore the words that hurt him inside, Harry put his hands to his forehead and tried to focus. He had to remember. It should not be complicated. What was his last memory? He ... yes, he was walking towards ... The Great Hall! He was at Hogwarts and for once he was alone. He remembered now. After leaving the library and walking to the room to have dinner, he was suddenly in pain. The blood began to flow. He remembered that he had begged because ... because he was expecting a child, and he did not want him to die because of him. He had also thought of his two loves. Draco and Severus. Then everything became black.