Floored

Chapter one

Eternal Suffering

"No Harry! Don't!" Hermione's teary voice echoed in his head, causing an ache to build up behind his eyes and migrate to his brow. Or perhaps that was due to the lack of blood," Please! You're like the brother I never had… Harry . . . please."

He was in the Shrieking Shack, and he was cold. The dust that always lay too thick everywhere didn't seem to bother him at the moment. Even though he rest with his face smothered in several inches of dust, he didn't attempt to move. The shadows around him seemed welcoming, giving everything a shade of grey as the only source of light was the full moon outside.

A lone wolf howled in the distance, yet he didn't care. His breath came out smoothly and evenly, yet seemed to be slowing. It was a peace that he clung to.

The only disturbance in this peace he had given himself was a muffled yell and clanking footsteps.

"Harry!"It was Hermione. He felt shame rise up in his chest, already knowing he wouldn't have to explain. Silently he begged for her not to find him, for her to turn away from the door. At her gasp he knew she had caught sight of him, and disgust rose within him to meld with the shame.

"Oh Harry," he felt slightly boney hands grip him and lift him up. He stared into chestnut brown eyes that looked down at him with sadness. The same eyes he had seen for years, since he had become a student at Hogwarts, yet they looked down at him from an old face, one that was thin and worn," oh Harry," she repeated, and a tear fell from one eye onto his cheek.

He knew why she cried, and that night he cried too. Tears always where hard to come to him, yet he found it so easy at that moment. His wounds slowly were healed by his friend and, with his regaining conciseness and strength, the tears turned into to full sobs that wrecked his body. Death would not meet him that day, not as it had Ron.

And it had been that day, laying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, still and empty while Hermione had collapsed next to him exhausted, he came to the conclusion. Or perhaps he had always known, but that day he was willing to accept it. He was cursed. He was cursed to watch every one of his friends perish and their children, and perhaps even their children's children. Though, selfishly he thought, it was not them he cried for. For once Harry allowed himself to greedily release tears for himself, his own selfish wish to finally find rest and eternal peace.

Harry Potter, the boy who lived, and the boy who died and had come back, would have exactly what Voldemort had craved for so many years.

Immortality.

The echo from so long ago reached his ears and he shuddered to think the voice right," you're a fool Harry Potter," Voldemort had hissed, after the boy had expressed that Voldemort didn't know love, have family or friends, and for that he was cursed. Had he been a fool? He was beginning to wonder if Tom had been correct, that he was a fool and now a cursed fool to live out the rest of his life alone.

While watching the slivers of moonlight shine through the cracks of wood, dust lazily coming down adding to what was already gathered on the floor, he thought of how things had gotten to where they were now. It had been over 80 years since the fall of the dark lord, and slowly he had secluded himself and shut himself in his home hidden in the wild when it became evident to not only himself but the rest of the world that he had escaped the hand of age and time itself. Of course there were those close to him that still knew of him home, Hermione and Ron of course, along with Draco, Luna, Nevill, Seamus, Anthony, Ginny, George, Angelina, Bill, and Fleur and all their children had been the ones that he had seen fit to know of his secret home when he had built it at the age of 35. Of those few, Fluer, Nevill, and Hermione still lived, as did the groups children (though he rarely saw any of the young adults now and he didn't blame them as for they had their own lives to live.) This small group of friends had slowly became his whole life, and when news of Ron's death had reached him earlier that day by a sobbing Fleur he had went to Hogwarts to see for himself, denial that the mischievous redhead, who now had thin wispy silver curls and a face riddled with lines of happiness, who had always been quick to jump to the defense of his friends and had grown into a confident young man and looked up to by many was dead.

He had apperiated to Hogsmeade, and then had made his way quickly to the school which held so many memories both dear and filled with sorrow. Hermione had been there, sobbing as their dear friend, her husband, at the age of 101 was being carried out on a gurney, white sheet covering his face. Harry had uncovered the other to see that a slight smile had been settled on his lips.

It was only later he had found out that the fool had been flying and must have had a heart attack while in midair. Harry and Hermione both understood, even though they cursed him all the same. He had lived over a hundred years, and still wished for that joy and freedom flight brought to many, his heart still young trapped in his elderly body. He had died happy.

Harry sighed as sleep began to overtake him, and his heart ached as he jealously thought that if only he could obtain the same peace and happiness his friend was so lucky to receive.

At the steadying of his breath, Hermione sat up from where she had pretended to sleep. She inspected the young face next to her. Harry still wore his hair short, though it was slightly longer than when they had been in school together, falling in messy locks around his chin. It worked well with his thin pixy face, and helped shape it and bring out those unearthly green eyes. His skin had become pale over the years losing the tan it once held, and stubble grew barely on his chin the other never one able to grow much facial hair. He was thin and short as he had always been, the obvious consequences from his abusive relatives she thought bitterly thinking about how he had had no childhood. At least, she thought, she had been granted the love of her family and had lived worry free up until war had called to her to make a stand as a teenager.

Thoughts going back to the present, for they strayed far too often in her old age, she looked again to the man who was trapped in the body of a boy.

That day had been tiring and far too eventful for her as the loss of her husband had been sudden and unexpected, though, sadly she thought, the attempted suicide from Harry had not been. And selfishly, she couldn't allow him his peace. She couldn't allow him to kill himself, though she wasn't completely sure he could. She had seen over the years the boy outlive many things, even death itself, and she wondered if anyone could bring him closure.

Which brought her to her thoughts now. She needed to find a place for the man she considered a brother. Harry, who was too kind hearted even when the worst happened to him, who cared so much for others, who needed and craved love even if he did not wish to see it, who had been denied so much in life, needed to be with others such as himself.

This was not the first time she had thought this. She had spoken of this to the others on several occasions, but now she saw they would have to pick up their efforts. Harry was ready to leave this world, and she needed to find him a direction, an answer to his suffering before she too passed on to whatever lay beyond life and he continued to live alone in pain. She feared what he could possibly turn into if that ever happened.

Hardening her features she conjured a blanket and covered him lovingly. She needed to speak to Fleur, the girl whom had an answer she hoped. Placing a kiss on his brow, the brunet made her way out of the shrieking shack, determined to set things right.

Authors note:

PHEW! There we go. Short, I know, but I just wanted to get this out there. This is, yes, a remake of my story Floored, which was on my old profile which I have been unable to access (my email was hacked that was to that account). I am back on frequently writing, now used to life as a mother, and hope to update frequently. If you have read my old version of Floored, I am sure you will notice the drastic change in the way I tell the story. My sights of how this story will go have not changed, just how they will play out. =)

Please tell me what you think of my story! I have been, currently, on a big LegolasxHarry craze, but my other stories I am writing Harry is an elf. This is not so in this story, or at least not completely. I am considering he slowly shift from human to elf, but at the moment he is just a wizard .

Also there is something else I am unsure about. I have the general idea of how this story is going to play out, and see a few different ways it could end up going. My question to YOU is:

When shall this take place? Pre LOTR? Post LOTR? During? If before should it be Pre, during, or after the Hobbit? I could spin this any way. My two cents here is, if it was pre the hobbit, then Harry could have a quick snippet in the hobbit, a good time for a one-shot, and join the fellowship in LOTR, a good chance for a complete sequel.

Just lemme know what you think, about how it has started out thus far, and what you would like to see.

THANK YOU!