Author: Amerision PM
Harry swore he'd stop it all from happening. Turning back the hands of time, he took the mark and wore the mask to get close to the Dark Lord. He didn't count on having to strike down a familiar figure and enduring the agony of an emerald eyed wife.Rated: Fiction T - English - Horror/Family - Harry P. & Lily Evans P. - Words: 666 - Reviews: 20 - Favs: 77 - Follows: 23 - Published: 01-29-09 - Status: Complete - id: 4827465
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Slight HP/LP.
The fire around them raged through the destroyed buildings, the heat drawing beads of sweat behind his mask.
Do it, do it now...
His allegiance belonged to another. This was his task.
He tried to rationalize what he was about to do. James Potter was going to die regardless of his actions. Better at his hand than the Dark Lord's. There was no sense in trying to preserve the timeline now, not after all he had done. History had never spoken of a green eyed stranger becoming the Dark Lord's favorite.
"What's wrong, scum? Don't have it in you?"
He looked back up at the young man sprawled on the ground, his glasses shattered and his robes bloodied. It was his own face staring back at him. He imagined that it was this face that stared up at the Dark Lord before his own battle had ended. One he'd never wear again.
A sobbing witch with hair more vibrant than the inferno around them lay next to him, sobbing into his chest, clutching at his hand. She was pleading him to stop, to surrender, to run.
"Stand aside." His voice was gruff from the smoke, yet completely emotionless. He didn't realize the irony of his words until the witch refused, holding her head high and spitting venomous words at him. The fallen man shouted and tried to push her away, but she stood, her green eyes boring into his own in defiance.
Finish him! Quickly!
"I said, stand aside!" A rage born of helplessness filled his blood, and he flicked his wand, pushing the witch to the side. As he watched her crash to the floor, he saw a wand appear in the corner of his eye. He quickly batted away the powerful curse and leveled his wand at the shocked man, taking in his expression.
He wasn't a murderer. He wasn't a heartless Death Eater. His wand merely belonged to another. For now.
The witch gave a cry of anguish as the man slumped into Death's embrace, watching as his wand rolled away from his lifeless hands. She crawled back to the body, burying her tears into his robes.
Harry found that he couldn't tear his eyes away. Even as the tattoo under his sleeve burned and burned, reminding him that his duty was done, he stood. The shouts of the attack had all died away, replaced by the cries of the fallen, the hurt of the dying. But they held no candle to her pain.
An eternity seemed to pass before she rose to her feet, emerald eyes burning in a thoughtless frenzy. She stepped toward him, baring her wand, flowing tears reflecting the darkness that passed through the slender wood.
He let many of them crash against him with hardly a thought, the magic futile against his own defenses. Others dissipated before they even approached him. The witch poured her very soul into the curses, magic turning blacker and deadlier until she let hatred take over. He wouldn't let her destroy herself.
The charm washed over the witch before the sickly green light finished pooling before her. Her face relaxed into confusion and she dropped her wand. She looked at him in confusion for a few moments before sinking into his arms with relief.
"You saved me…"
His mask had disappeared, his robes transfigured into something more suitable. It was brown eyes that closed as he rested his chin on her head, giving her the comfort she so desperately sought. She murmured softly into his neck, breathing in his scent as if she couldn't live without it.
His grip on her tightened as a sinuous presence disappeared from his mind, echoed by a cooling sensation on his arm. Before them lay a body clothed in black, a simple white mask on its face. With hardly a thought it burst into flames.