A Little Wicked

24. Inquisition

As the silence continued, only one sound remained continuous in the living room: the pendulum clock ticking, a reminder that time was running and that the future - once so literally predictable thanks to Alice - was now uncertain, making them back to the initial question: 'What will happen now?'

...

...

...

A small part of Harry's mind considered it a miracle that he was able to have apparated back home after Edward left the Sabbat meadow. Or after he screamed by the vampire's name until his throat hurt, as if it would somehow make him come back to let him explain what was apparently inexplicable. It was only after an indiscernible time that he realized he was on his knees on the floor, his lungs begging for air because his frantic heartbeats seemed to have left him on the verge of having something similar to a panic attack while his fingers were stuck in the dirt.

But somehow he had been able to apparate to his bedroom.

Somehow, he had been able to lie on the bed, even crying with sobs that made his body tremble, his arms tightening on the pillow that still smelled like Edward, his salty tears moistening the fabric of the pillowcase that was tightened by his hands.

He was angry with himself for not telling everything when he still had time and opportunities to do so and for being scared; anger at having hurt Edward that way, when he had been through so many things, defended him from everyone, including his own family, while he withheld information about himself and his feelings... Sad, because he knew that Edward had reasons and reason for wanting him away from him, while Harry didn't consider having to stay away from him... Edward had become an indispensable part of his life.

And because of these emotions, Harry cried for hours in silence, feeling his emotional and physical exhaustion making his body heavy, not realizing when he fell asleep in a short dreamless sleep.

Harry woke up little by little the next morning, the light from the room blinded him for a few seconds as he opened his lids, his mind going out of confusion as he remembered the events of the night before. He still felt terrible, of course, but somehow he also felt strangely calm, so calm that he was surprised with himself.

Decades made him more experienced in dealing with his own pain in the face of a crisis to be resolved.

And what he had there was a crisis that he already knew he would have to face sooner or later - he planned to tell Edward about him, about his story, about what got him there, in the same way he was going to tell the rest of the Cullen family in which was already suspicious of him – he even had a pre-conversation with Jasper and Alice. He would tell everything, but obviously in a less disturbing and traumatic way than it had the night before without have the chance to explain.

Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his face, making an effort to lift his spine and sit on the mattress while a low moan escaped his lips as he felt his body protest in pain for that sudden movement, which made his head turn horribly, making him nauseous.

'Come on, Harry...' he thought closing his eyes as he suppressed the nausea '... you can do this.'

With his feet firmly on the floor, Harry got up from the bed, ignoring the physical pain as he walked over to the nightstand, opening the drawer and looking at its contents for long seconds until he took the object of interest with a resigned expression.

That was a thing he didn't want to use, as it would put him in an even more vulnerable position than he was at the moment... But he had no other way out.

Looking to the side, Harry walked to his desk, pulling out a blank paper and wrote to Ron and Hermione the events that had happened in the meadow, as well as detailed the protocol that the two should take: the blood moon would happen in the next night and they should prepare themselves, whether for the best... or for the worst.