Through These Walls

[valis2]

Title: Through These Walls
Rating: R
Characters: RL, SS
Summary: Severus receives a visit from Remus in Azkaban.
Warnings: Poetry, angst, pre-slash
Notes: Beta'ed by the lovely julian_black.



I have bowed before
two masters, killed them both, and
yet I am still chained.

I did not plan for--
later, for this empty space,
the grey and the black.

You are familiar,
you fill me with revulsion
I know all too well.

Are you a ghost, here
to explicate my crimes, to
gain understanding?

I'm afraid I can
offer you nothing, except
my blood and my bones.

They hold all truths now.
Do not trust my mind, it will
show you what it wants.

The Potter boy? No.
He hasn't the stomach to
see his handiwork.

Ah, a pardon, now
I know you are a dream, a
nightmare, a dark howl.

Don't touch me. I'm here
until the end, until the
grey. Until the black.

Your grip is--warm. It
hurts. It burns and reminds me
of too much. No more.

I did not ask for
this. Your pity I hate most.
It tastes like sulfur.

Damn you, and damn your
Portkey, you should have left me.
I was almost gone.

This bright, blazing place,
this nuisance, just like you, too
warm, too cheerful, no.

You have no right to
claim me like this. You are not
my newest Master,

come to see me scrape
and lick boots once more, twice more,
until my tongue bleeds.

There, I knew the grey,
black, I understood the slow
weathering of Time.

Here, in your bed, I
understand nothing, your eyes
watch, watch, and regret.

Do you think I am
the reward for her death? Don't
forget who killed her.

Or is this how you
will draw me out, slice by slice,
'til I beg for death,

dealt from your mercy,
dealt from your merciful hand,
permit me to kneel.

Perhaps you are lost,
and you think I will find a
way, a path for you,

one not overgrown
with thistles and aconite,
one lined with bluebells.

This warmth, it scalds, it
rubs raw, I am helpless in
its grip, its rough fire.

Why have you freed me?
It was just as easy to
leave me there, dead weight,

to excise me from
your memory, to prune me
away, to hate me.

You always were an
idiot. I remember
shivering, watching

your laughter, your eyes,
the way you held a book, so
fluid, so gentle.

I must tell you, a
kiss cannot mend me, a soft
touch won't make me whole,

but I will stay still
this time. These walls are just the
same, grey, black, and if

I just concentrate
on breathing, in, out,
perhaps you won't leave.