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Books » Harry Potter » Trapped
Misha
Author of 342 Stories
Rated: T - English - Drama/Angst - Harry P. - Reviews: 2 - Published: 02-06-03 - Complete - id:1222880
Trapped By Misha

Disclaimer- Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling and is not mine, however much I might wish differently. However, I am not making any money off of this, so please do not sue me!

Author's Notes- This is just a short, bitter fic that popped into my mind without warning last night. It's dark and depressing. It focuses on Harry and is set many years in the future. The war is over, but the consequences are high-Harry's gone insane. This is just a look into the state of his mind. Well, that's all, enjoy!

Pairing- Harry/Hermione, Harry/Draco.

Summery- There were only echoes left. Everything else had long since been forgotten, as he lay trapped in his own mind.

Spoilers- All four books, I guess.

Rating- PG-13

The faces danced around in his broken mind.

He lay in the bed, a shattered shell. Lost to the world that loved him so.

Never again would he be what he was. The hero of an entire world.

How far he had fallen. Once the beloved savior, now a broken man whose mind could not deal with all that he had suffered.

So he had gone insane. He no longer even remembers his own name. A name that no one in the wizarding world would ever forget.

His glorious story, the tragedy of his life, the people he had loved. They were all lost to him.

But somewhere, in the dark corners of his mind, lay the echoes of the past.

He saw the faces, but the names eluded him. Snippets of places and events would pass by, but there was nothing solid.

There were moments when he could almost remember. When the faces were clearer and the names were just beyond his reach.

In those moments, he remembered some things.

He might not know who she was, but he remembered that he once loved the girl with the dark hair.

On the good days, he could remember the taste of her lips and the feel of her body against his.

On the bad days, all he could do was see her lying dead and hear her scream echoing in his mind.

Her name was forever lost to him.

He would never realize, except maybe in some forgotten corner of his mind, that that woman had been his wife. His best friend for many years. That her name had been Hermione and that she had given him a daughter.

His daughter was as lost to him as her mother. She still lived. Was a healthy little girl, loved by the people who raised her, but haunted by the loss of her parents.

But to her father, she never existed. Her face never haunted him. He never searched for her name in the remains of a tattered mind.

He had forgotten her completely.

He had forgotten a lot. Most of the faces in his mind were blurry. He might have known them once. But now they were lost.

There was only one other face that was clear to him always.

It was the face of a man, a boy really.

In this place where his mind had gone, he could sometimes hear the echoes of the mocking chants of childhood. He could sometimes, see that pale face sneer. There were times when he could feel the pressure of the other man's kiss and hear the whispered "I love you".

But like the woman, mainly, he just remembered the body laying dead on the ground.

He had long forgotten that the man was Draco Malfoy, that they had been rivals who had grudgingly become allies and then surprisingly become lovers. That Draco had died at the hands of his own father at the tender age of sixteen.

Those things were lost to this man.

He lived forever in the world of echoes and shadows. With hints of what used to be forever hiding in the background.

He was trapped within his own mind.

He had no knowledge of the outside world. Of the world that mourned him. Of the daughter that had never known him. Of the friends who never stopped missing him.

He had no knowledge that any of these things existed.

He was a broken shell. To the world his name was legend. But he had long since forgotten that Harry Potter had ever existed.

That boy, that hero, had lost the battle for his own mind and had slipped away forever.

Trapped and tormented by the fragments of a life that he would never again remember.

The End

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