Unbeknownst by Severnaya

Story Summary:

It is the last battle, the final fight - or isn't it? What unexpected happenings are there that will change the world we knew? Read about an encounter between Harry and Voldemort we hadn't thought possible. -- A grey sky, a battle, an encounter between two enemies and one plan; how does this come together? -- Oneshot, could be called slash

Author's Notes:

This is a sad narration of a battle between the forces of the Light and the Dark told in first person. While writing 'Unbeknownst', the story grew deeply on me, so please let me know what you think.

Songs I've listened to while writing:

Albinoni – Adagio (played by the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra)
Greg Maroney – Breath
Chopin – Nocturne in C-sharp minor
Love Theme from 'Romeo and Juliet'
Hans Zimmer – Pearl Harbor Soundtrack
Piano Two (Yanni) – Nostalgia
Piano Two (Yanni) – Mother Night
Clint Mansell – The Fountain piano song in the end credits (I think it's called 'Last Man')
George Winston – October – Sea
Mark Knopfler – Guide My Sword (from the movie 'A Princess Bride')

Unbeknownst - Without the knowledge of a specified party

Unbeknownst

by Severnaya

I can remember it, as if it had happened only yesterday; but I guess no one of those present will forget it soon.

It had been a day that had reflected the mood of the people there: heavy clouds painted the sky in various shades of grey and a strong wind let the trees dance at his wish; but not a single drop of rain had met the ground. Heaven wasn't crying for us. Not yet.

The day promised a storm soon to come. I guess Harry had judged the day as perfect. He had always loved such stormy weather. With every gust of wind, he would glow from the inside, as if the wind had caught part of his very soul and brought it to the surface for everyone to see. He would look up at the clouds and a smile would grace his face that spoke of deep and purest satisfaction, which one could normally only witness when he was flying at top speed.

But he hadn't smiled that day. He had looked up at the clouds, but he had seemed to be deep in his thoughts, lost in a world where no one of us could reach him. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had had vanished with the next blow. Today I wonder if he had known.

It had been a stormy day, and it had been the day when we met with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Both sides had agreed on this remote meadow, far away from Muggles' eyes, and were now facing each other, waiting for the fight to begin. How little did we know that this day would end in a way none of us had expected.

During the fight, I stayed close to Harry. There was an eerie calmness about him, as if he wouldn't entirely recognise the happenings around him. Death Eaters could throw hexes his way and werewolves could jump in front of him, but all Harry would do was dancing among them, like a leaf in autumn that was caressed by the wind and that was tenderly blown hither and thither.

I always had imagined the final battle to be the place where Harry would ultimately show everyone how powerful and strong he was, in both magical power and personality. I always had imagined him fighting in the middle of everything, confident and solid, and yet somehow aware of all the things happening around him, shouting warnings, advices and spells simultaneously. I shamefully have to admit to have compared him to some unearthly being that would first slaughter his enemies only to revoke their sins and offer them forgiveness afterwards, before wishing them well on their way to the Otherworld. This peculiar feeling of serenity that surrounded Harry that day only seemed to confirm our craved wish that Harry was more than what met the eye.

Subsequent events of that day verified our impressions; still, my imagination could hardly have been any more different from the scenes we witnessed.

Harry was weaving through the fighters without paying them any attention. Curses wouldn't reach him, hexes wouldn't hit. His eyes were distant and his face showed no recognition whatsoever. He didn't fight, and yet he was there in the middle of the biggest battle of the war, letting the wind, or whatever supernatural power, guide him, as if it wasn't his to participate.

And then he was there: Voldemort

A shield was surrounding him that glittered like pearl in the diffuse light that filtered through the clouds, reflecting the various colours of curses flying by. It only took seconds for everyone to notice that Voldemort had arrived. He was shielding himself from any form of attack, but his magical power could still be felt without restriction, and he made no effort in hiding it. For once, though, Voldemort didn't use his power to attack or wreak havoc among his enemies; instead, he stood unmoving, his shield pulsating around him, whilst his eyes roamed the battlefield - until he found what he was looking for.

The moment Voldemort's power could be felt, Harry stopped in his tracks and just stood there, staring at the Dark Lord with this calm and somehow sad expression in his eyes. I knew immediately when Voldemort had seen him. I still can feel the shiver running down my spine from the magical force once Voldemort concentrated on Harry, who was still standing next to me. Slowly but steadily Voldemort moved in our direction; or better in Harry's direction, for I doubt that he paid any attention to who else was there.

The battle around us went on, but with each of Voldemort's deliberate moves, his shield shoving others out of his way and Harry's still form, more and more of those present realised what was going to happen soon. All of the fighters were important, true, but we also knew that the final decision would lie with Harry and the Dark Lord.

To my left I could see Remus and some other members of the Order fighting their way to us. When I turned back to Harry, his eyes were still firmly fixed on the approaching wizard, and he still wouldn't move a bit. I called him, but he reacted neither to my voice, nor to me shaking him. As unfocused as he was before, as focused was he now, unfortunately not on me.

Eventually, Voldemort was only about thirty feet away, and I felt the power of his shield, as it pushed me backwards. Unable to resist that force I stepped back, one step after the other. Harry, however, stayed where he was. He didn't even blink when the shield engulfed him fully the moment Voldemort granted him entrance.

Once Remus reached me, we tried to break the shield that was now surrounding Harry and Voldemort. In fact, almost everyone of the Light side was now concentrating on this task, while the Dark forces either hindered us doing so or stopped fighting altogether in favour of watching their Lord. Either way all our attempts were in vain. No matter what we tried, all our spells would just end as one of the melting facets of the pearly shield; and Harry still hadn't reacted to any of our calls.

He and Voldemort stood only some feet away from each other, and it seemed that for both of them the world outside the shield didn't exist anymore. I still can't really describe how surreal it all felt back then; but I still know the first words Harry mouthed that day, even if they were spoken silently, a mere whisper among the wind.

"So it's time," he had said and Voldemort had just nodded. I saw Harry take a deep breath, before he stepped closer to the dark wizard.

I couldn't believe my eyes when a small, albeit sad smile lifted the edges of Harry's lips. By now, they stood only an arm's length apart from each other, far too close to duel; and it took this last thought for me to notice that neither of them had their wand at the ready.

Voldemort's shield still prevented anyone from reaching them, so the only thing we could do was to wait and watch; and watch we did. We watched as Voldemort stepped even closer; we watched as Harry's eyes focused solely on him, and how he wouldn't do anything that could even remotely be called defence; and, finally, we watched as Voldemort reached out and touched Harry's left cheek.

In hindsight, I know that I was unconsciously waiting for a cry of pain that would leave Harry's throat. I was waiting for his eyes to squinch shut and for his teeth to bite through his lips; but all this never happened. The first moments of shock and fear had to pass before I noticed it; and from the astonished sounds and faces around me, I knew I wasn't the only one. What we witnessed had nothing to do with a battle of power or dominance; what we witnessed was a loving gesture.

We watched how Voldemort's pale fingers caressed Harry's cheek, and how Harry leant into the touch; and we watched in disbelief when Voldemort captured Harry's lips with his own and gave him a long and sensual kiss. Harry closed his eyes and lifted his arms, not to toss Voldemort away, but to let them rest against Voldemort's chest and shoulders. Eventually, they broke apart and Harry dropped his arms; Voldemort's hands, though, lingered at Harry's hips after they travelled down his side.

"It is," he said almost equally silent and calm as Harry had voiced the question earlier.

Harry looked down and nodded; a faint form of determination was creeping in his face. He had always been so easy to read once he dared to show emotions, and that time had been no exception. Harry's eyes wandered to his left arm, and he began to pull up the sleeve of his robe. Next to me, Remus drew in a sharp breath and I'm sure for a second we were equally afraid of seeing the Dark Mark on Harry's skin.

We didn't; but the relief was only brief.

Once his arm was bared, Harry ran his right middle and index finger over his forearm, starting at the wrist and going up until his elbow; all the while murmuring unintelligible words. Then his fingers glided back down to his wrist, leaving a crimson trace in their wake. During the movement, I could see his breath quicken and how he clenched his fist.

Eventually, Harry held out his arm to Voldemort, who firmly closed one of his hands around Harry's wrist and the other around his elbow. Holding Harry's wrist still, Voldemort slowly let the upper hand glide over Harry's exposed skin. Harry was biting his lips but didn't try to move away. Finally, Voldemort's hands met and he withdrew them both, eliciting a hiss from Harry, as a small dagger followed Voldemort's hands out of Harry's arm. For a moment, Voldemort almost lovingly examined the delicate blade that glittered silver in the sparse light, whilst Harry lowered his arm until it dangled limply at his side. From a small wound, blood was making its way across his skin to his fingertips, where it accumulated to little crimson drops that would drip silently to the soil.

Again their eyes met, and by now I had completely abandoned the idea of trying to make sense of what was happening. As much as Harry and Voldemort were focused on each other, my awareness focused on the two of them, unable to look away, unable to comprehend.

"Then do it." I could hear Harry whisper. "Do it now."

Another moment passed in which Voldemort's red eyes examined Harry's face while I watched the moisture forming in Harry's eyes. Then, without further warning, Voldemort let his free hand glide to Harry's neck in a swift move and forced him into another kiss. This time Harry didn't react in any way, but stood still in the Dark Lord's arms, eyes closed.

I guess I had already known what would happen since I had seen the dagger, but my consciousness only caught up the moment that cursed blade broke through Harry's clothes and skin, right into his heart. His body convulsed and his eyes flew open in shock and pain. Now there were tears running down his cheeks, and I'm certain he would have screamed if he hadn't been imprisoned by Voldemort's demanding kiss and unyielding hand that made any sound or moving impossible. I know that I have screamed and cried, although I can't remember it clearly.

All around me, Order members commenced a new wave of attempts to destroy the shield, but it still wouldn't relent. After an indefinable amount of time had past Harry's body relaxed slightly, yet Voldemort still held him firmly. There were tears on Harry's face and there was pain, but there was also the look so typical for him when he tried to tell someone it was all right to feel like they did right now, that some things needed to be done even if they weren't nice. It was the same sombre lock in Harry's eyes, the same knowing gaze, he wore when he tried to hide his own pain to console someone else; and again there was this calm and sad faint smile. Then Harry's eyelids fluttered and the green eyes closed before his body went limp in Voldemort's arms.

Voldemort held him close, as if he were afraid of letting go; but eventually, his knees bent and he knelt down and laid Harry on the ground. Every single move or touch was gentle and caressing. He stroked some strands of hair out of Harry's face, his eyes roaming over the pale boy in front of him. "Thank you, Harry," he whispered and emotions, pure and powerful, could be seen on the normally cold face.

Then he stood and looked around at those who witnessed what had just happened. His eyes sought out every single Death Eater nearby. "We're done. Pull back," he said in a clear voice before he vanished into thin air. All around us, Death Eaters Disapparated but the Order didn't care. Like me, many had rushed forwards the moment Voldemort's shield had faded, in the vain hope that Harry was still alive.

I fell to my knees beside Harry, but instead of checking him for any signs of life, I could only stare at the affronting dagger that was piercing through his chest. Remus had knelt down on Harry's other side, his hands hovering in the air, as if he were afraid to touch the young man that was more of a son to him than both he and Harry would admit.

Rain had started to fall in condolence to our sorrow; or maybe it was a last caress, a goodbye, to a beloved person.

Too many people were gathering around us, so we finally overcame our shock and brought Harry to the only safe haven he had known: Hogwarts.

The weeks went by and Harry's condition didn't change. We couldn't remove the dagger nor had anyone another idea how to help Harry; it all seemed to come down to the enchanted blade in his heart. He just lay there, unmoving, unchanging. His body remained the same regardless how much time passed; neither would his hair grow, nor did his body become thinner. He lay there untouched of time like Sleeping Beauty.

And now here I am, once again watching my once best friend, as if he would exist in another reality. The number of visitors had declined over time and by now only the closest to him would come once in a while. For most people it was easier to pretend Harry was dead. Soon, I myself will turn around, go back to my life and leave him alone in this room in one of Hogwarts's many towers.

Written December 2009