Luck of Nines

69

"Nice and warm and cozy, you will be feeling better soon, yes, you will be back to rights in no time at all."  A deep, raspy voice spoke and he felt the warm burrow of blankets shift to better cover him, he curled up tighter within the burrow at the soothing familiarity of it.

"Chipped has missed you lots, they have been very sad they could not see you for so long. But you will be better soon. Food and warmth, that is all you need, proper food and warmth and you will be back to yourself in no time. You are away from that nasty place now, you will not be going back, no. Cruel wizards. Bad, cruel wizards."  The once happy lilt to voice dipped, changing quickly to anger as they mumbled, but the hand which smoothed the mound of blankets that swaddled him remained gentle.

The voice was quickly forced back to happy, "Mustn't dwell, mustn't get angry, you need only happy thoughts.  Happy thoughts to help you heal."

        He quickly drifted back into the darkness. A few more times he woke up to a variety of voices, each time drifting back off into nothing. Finally, he fully roused himself from the drifting slumber, awareness fully dawning for the first time in what felt like decades at least. 

         "I'm sorry it took this long to come get you," he- Chipper, no, Harry- recognized this voice, the name coming to him easily, he recognized the scent that accompanied it, although it had changed greatly. Theo had succeeded, he realized.

He didn't move, wanting to test out how it would go alone first given they could have changed in the years that seemed to have followed his capture. Not to mention how poorly he had reacted to his rescue. He... he remembered the all consuming, seething, hunger and chill that had filled every molecule in his body. The desire rose up again and he fought it back with a shudder.

No, it seemed they had neither parted on good terms nor returned, the rest being left in the dangerous unknown of Hogwarts where his strong senses alone had saved them from attack. He had let himself be captured, at least partially, he'd simply been too confident that he could escape, they didn't know that though, only seen him leave voluntarily. Like how Goldilocks had only seen themselves being driven off because they were a burden.

It didn't matter in the end it hadn't been the type of burden Goldilocks had thought, it didn't matter what he had intended, it only mattered that he had left Goldilocks... like how he had left the other Slytherins...

They hadn't been reunited on any better terms than he had left them in the castle. And they had met knew people it seemed, moved on with their lives...

The memory of Goldilocks, different yet still mockingly similar, danced again in the corner of his mind.

Sure, Theo and the others had saved him, but... they didn't need him anymore. They had found shelter and company. He wasn't in much of a state to care for them currently either, he could feel the raving urge to devour bubble up every time his control slipped or he thought to long about it, every time a chill brushed his skin... no it wasn't just they didn't need him. They were better off without him. The cold hunger begged and clutched at him, it wouldn't hurt so much if he could just give in.

He steeled himself against it, focusing back on his present. It was the crackling of flames in a fireplace and the soft rolling of water over stones in a stream that brought him back. He could hear something that vaguely sounded like wind chimes even more distantly too.

He focused on those sounds.

Beyond the room he was in, someone was writing next door on a large, old wooden desk, the sound closer to those he'd heard on the teacher's desks than the dining hall tables, in the library or student desks as it furiously scribbled. There were people eating, he could hear the sounds of cutlery on dishes, chewing, and quiet conversation, although he couldn't distinguish the voices entirely it brought a sense of peace, a feeling that he knew them very different from the more shocking realization he'd had before when trying to piece together his memories. If he heard these voices are saw the speakers he would recognize them easily, he knew, the faint noise he could hear only brought dim recognition though.