Chapter Text
The funeral was a sombre event.
Harry barely felt the death grip Ginny had on his arm, he barely heard the guttural sobs of Merope Gaunt, and he barely saw them lower the casket into the ground through his empty tears… They mixed with the rain, anyway.
The event must have lasted hours; Harry wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he had never felt as cold as he did then.
Ginny tugged on his arm, and he looked at her numbly. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her makeup falling in streaks down her face, and her once hot and fiery hair lay in damp strings on her shoulders.
“You couldn’t have done anything.” She told him, and Harry dropped his gaze to the floor.
But he could have.
He was angry.
He was so, so angry.
Why didn’t Tom say anything? If he had, they could have sorted something, they could have found some way to fix everything.
But he hadn’t.
And now Tom was gone.
Harry didn’t leave his room for weeks.
Lily stood outside his door, listening for any signs of movement.
Nothing.
She opened the door slowly, wincing at the sight of her son, draped across his bed. The room stank, and there were old plates of untouched food and laundry strung across the floor. She tried to smile, and Harry opened his eyes to look at her.
“Have you spoken to Ginny recently?” She asked lightly, picking up a nearby plate.
Harry shook his head, and Lily noticed the frost gathering beneath his neck. She frowned, walking closer. Harry flinched.
“Darling, what’s wrong with your neck?” She asked, and Harry shifted to move beneath his covers.
“Nothing.” He croaked, and Lily tutted.
“Don’t be daft, I saw something. You either show me or I force you to.”
Harry sighed, sitting up in bed. He pulled off his T-Shirt, revealing…
“Oh, baby…” Lily murmured, running her fingers across the swirly trails of ice decorating her son’s neck and chest. “How… How are you still…”
She didn’t know how to finish her sentence, but Harry understood.
How are you still alive?
“It won’t let me go.” He rasped, and Lily’s eyes widened.
“What do you mean, honey?”
“I’m going to stay like this. It’s my punishment.”
Oh.
Lily shook her head, retracting her hand as though she’d been burned. “No, that’s impossible. There will be a treatment. There has to be. We’re going to the doctor.”
No matter how much Harry protested, Lily’s mind was made up. She’d do anything to save her boy.
“What does it mean, Doctor?”
The balding man sat back in his chair, shaking his head in bewilderment.
“I… I’ve no idea.”
Lily glanced at her son on the other side of the glass, lying on the cold table all alone. “You must have some idea!” She hissed, looking back to him. “What’s happening to him?”
“It seems as though he’s… freezing.”
“Yes, I think we can all see that.” Lily said sarcastically, and the doctor winced. “Do something! There must be some sort of treatment, or cure, or-”
“Mrs Potter.” The doctor interrupted, and for the first time, Lily saw how exhausted he looked. “There is nothing we can do for your son. He will not die of this, but he will not live happily, either. It is just how the Fates decide.”
Lily balled her fists. She would not allow herself to cry here. Not now, not when her boy needed her. Later, when she was alone with James, maybe. But not now.
“I told you they wouldn’t be able to do anything.”
“Shh… You’ll be okay. There’s always a way.”
“Not this time, Mum.”
Harry didn’t mind the cold.
Even as his fingers and toes lost their feeling, even as he felt the icicles around his heart tightening and tightening more than they should, he couldn’t bring himself to mind.
Tom went through this. He went through all of this and worse, and yet he kept smiling for Harry.
He knew he wouldn’t die. Not from the cold, anyway. Perhaps a sickness, or if he were given the special injection when his parents couldn’t cope anymore, but he knew that no matter how cold he got, it would never kill him.
How could it? To kill him would be to release him from this pain, and he knew that the Fates didn’t want that. He’d rejected a soulmate, however unknowingly, and he was going to pay.
He didn’t mind.
Ginny was losing her mind.
She stayed beside Harry on his bed, massaging his hands - perhaps if she rubbed hard enough, she’d be able to coax some warmth back into them.
Those green eyes she’d loved more than anything else stared vacantly at the ceiling, and no matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t find a single trace of life in them.
The eyes that once held all the secrets of the universe were now empty.
Ginny cursed the warmth in her heart. How could she still be okay? Why was she not suffering as much as he was? How dare she be allowed to stay warm, when Harry was laying still as a statue in his bed?
She dropped the hand she’d been rubbing, and left the room.
She couldn’t do this anymore.
Watch as she stands with her, holding your hand
Put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder
But how could I hate her, she's such an angel
But then again, kinda wish she were dead.