Amortentia

Part 37

Mr. Watson volunteered to drive Sherlock to the station, which Sherlock looked very nervous about. He couldn't apperate yet; he claimed it was on his to-do list, especially if it suspended awkward car rides. John helped Sherlock put his things in the trunk, Billy the owl screeching unhappily at being shut in the newly enlarged trunk. The Watson family had either purposely or accidently given John and Sherlock time alone outside the car, but they were in the house probably arguing with Harry.
"Will you be okay at Hogwarts alone?" John asked nervously.
"I'm used to it. And while I'm there, I'll take some time to find the heir, and maybe by the time you get back we can go after him." Sherlock said with a forced smile.
"Shouldn't you go to Dumbledore first?" John asked uncertainly, he didn't feel like he should be the first one Sherlock goes to.
"It's not an adventure if you've got Dumbledore to hide behind. Besides, we can handle this on our own, you killed a bloody basilisk, what's to say you can't stun a simple student." The cold air bit into John, he hadn't bothered to grab a jacket, and flecks of snow blown up by the wind swirled around the shoveled pavement.
"Will they go to Azkaban?" John asked.
"I hope so." Sherlock sighed. There was awkward silence, John didn't want to say goodbye, he didn't want Sherlock to leave him, especially to go hunt some murderer.
"I'll miss you." John said lamely. Sherlock looked at him, trying to distort his sad face into amusement, but it didn't work, not on John at least.
"I'll miss you more." Sherlock assured. John smiled and gave him a hug, something that, if the old neighbors were watching, wouldn't give them a heart attack. The screen door banged shut and Mr. Watson came out of the house, Coco nipping at his heels to go along for the ride.
"You ready?" he asked, trying to be cheerful. Sherlock nodded unenthusiastically and gave John one last look before disappearing into the back seat of the car. John backed up, holding Coco by the collar so he didn't chase the car down the road. He waved with his free hand and saw Sherlock staring longingly out the back window. John stood, shivering in the cold snow, letting Coco go back to the door, but staying in the yard, staring at a spot in space and thinking of how much he would miss Sherlock. He wanted him back at his side, laughing and kissing him softly.
"John, come in, you'll freeze to death!" Mrs. Watson called from the door. John blinked, realizing he must have been standing there longer than he realized.
"And I know what a shame that would be." He muttered. Mrs. Watson didn't hear him apparently, she was too busy getting the snow wiped off of Coco's paws before he tracked it around the house. John walked into the living room and slumped over on the couch, uninterested in human communication for the time being. It didn't feel right, Sherlock just gone like that, it wasn't fair, John had caused most of the problems, yet here he was, sitting on the couch while Sherlock had been sent on the awkwardness car ride of his life.
"So what are you going to do now that you're boyfriends gone?" Harry had just entered the room with a smug smile on her face, as if Sherlock's exile was a personal achievement.
"Shut up Harry, at least I have a boyfriend." John pointed out. Harry scowled at him, but John knew he had won that argument. The rest of the winter break was long and boring, mostly consisting of sitting on the couch and missing Sherlock, fending off Coco, and rebounding insults from Harry. He made sure to write to Sherlock almost each day, probably burning Jam out, but he was able to make the trip. Sherlock wrote back every day, telling John how he was on pursuit of "You Know Who". He claimed he couldn't say what he was actually doing in case the letter got intercepted, which was highly unlikely, like anyone would actually care what they were talking about, but John supposed it was okay to be cautious. Some more relatives had come in for Christmas, but not a word of Sherlock was mentioned, it was like the Watson were doing their best to forget he had ever occupied the house, he was a ghost. John got a lot of disappointing presents, some of them were decent, but most were socks or books he didn't want to read. The end of break couldn't come fast enough, John was getting continually worried about Sherlock's wellbeing, if he was fighting with his emotions with no one to take care of him, and if he was on drugs again anything could happen. He was also pretty worried about this heir, even though he wouldn't tell Sherlock, just in case he took it personally. This guy was not to be messed with, if he had been willing to take someone's memories, along with their sanity, what's their life but a small leap away? John had no idea what he would do if Sherlock had died; especially while seeking revenge for John, he could never live with himself. It's only been two weeks, but John was already completely in love with Sherlock Holmes, and he knew he was the one he was supposed to be with for the rest of his life. When John finally loaded his stuff into the back of Mrs. Watson's car on Friday afternoon, he was only too happy to leave. Jam had returned just in time for the trip, and was now splashing water all over the front seat from drinking sloppily. John sat in the back seat while Mrs. Watson drove out of the driveway into the newly snow covered roads. It was silent for a while, a silence that could be felt in the air, they both had something to say, and the other knew it, but they didn't know how to say it. John wanted to tell her that Sherlock was a great person, and someone that would be in their lives for the remainder of them, but he didn't know how to bring something like that up.
"John honey," Mrs. Watson started, picking her words carefully. "I want you to be careful with that Sherlock fellow okay?"
"Mom, he's perfectly fine, trust me on that." John insisted, annoyed already with his mother's pestering.
"Well, he didn't make a very good impression I can tell you that." she said.
"Well when you two made such a big deal of, you know that, he immediately blamed himself for it, he thought he was tearing the family apart, he was distraught." John said, immediately standing up for Sherlock.
"But what if he tells you to take the drugs, what would you do?"
"I'd say no, of course I would, and he'd never do that, never." John assured.
"What if he says that if you don't take the drug he won't be your boyfriend anymore?" Mrs. Watson asked, her voice catching a little at the word boyfriend.
"I told you he'd never do that! And if he did, I would take all of the drugs from him, help him through whatever problems he's having, and we could work through it together." John said.
"If he jumped off a building, would you?" she asked.
"What does that have anything to do with it? Of course I wouldn't!" John said.
"Just asking, I'm not saying to break up with him, but I'm just saying be careful." She said, ending the conversation that seemed to last forever. When they got to platform Nine and Three Quarters, all of the students that had gone away for the holiday were standing on the platform with their parents, loading their bags onto the scarlet steam engine, cheerfully puffing smoke into the station. The station was loud, but exciting; it was like returning home, even though he was leaving his real home. Owls hooted, students laughed, small children screamed with excitement as a student produced flowers out of the tip of his wand. John scanned the station for Greg, Mike, or Sara, but he couldn't find them yet. He would be able to find them on the train anyway.
"Do you have everything then?" Mrs. Watson asked.
"Yep, trunk, Jam, broom, that was all I brought." John said, using a mental checklist.
"Okay, then I guess this is goodbye until the end of the year, by then you'll be a full wizard, isn't that exciting?" she asked. John smiled, that was exciting, but he didn't know what he was going to do with his life after that. There were no Wizarding colleges that he knew of, but he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it.
"Bye, thanks for everything, I'm sure Sherlock would say the same."
"He already did." Mrs. Watson assured, giving John a quick kiss on the forehead. He wiped the lipstick off immediately, but he wasn't embarrassed like a lot of the other students would be.
"I'll write to you when I get there, to say that we got there okay." John said, and with that he dragged his trunk through the crowd and onto the train. The hallways were packed with students, all in muggle clothes, wandering the train for open compartments or friends. John decided he'd check the back of the train first for them, since they were in seventh year it seemed like a good first shot. It was a bit difficult to navigate since it was very narrow, but he found all of his friends in a compartment near the back, all of their stuff already stuffed in the shelves above the seats.
"Hey John!" Greg said happily as he slid open the glass door.
"Where's Sherlock?" Sara asked.
"Oh, do I have a story for you guys." John sighed. Before he put his trunk up top, he dug out their presents that he forgot to send, which they all seemed thrilled with. John sat next to Greg, all three of them awaiting the story. He told them everything that happened, to the kiss to the drugs, and when he was done Sara's mouth was hanging open, unable to think of anything to say.
"So are you two not allowed to see each other?" Mike asked.
"No, Mom said it was okay, but she told me to be careful, as if he's dangerous." John sighed.
"But he's not, they should know that!" Greg defended.
"Well, they're just have to get used to him because he's not going anywhere." John said with a small smile.
"Did he propose!?" Sara gasped.
"What, no!" John said quickly, trying to be heard over Greg and Mike's laughter. Sara looked slightly embarrassed, but pretended like she hadn't asked such a stupid question.
"But he's after the heir, I don't know what he's been doing, but I hope he'll be okay." John said.
"Do you think he'll be able to track them down?" Greg asked, suddenly interested.
"Probably, he's brilliant; I think he'd make a great detective." John said with a smile. Greg looked slightly hurt at that; detective was his dream job, and John had never told him that he would be a good detective.
"But that sounds dangerous, do you know if he's okay?" Mike asked nervously.
"He's been writing daily, so I'd say he's fine." John decided.
"I think he'll be okay." Greg assured. The rest of the train ride was conversation about the upcoming quidditch matches, the championships were coming up, and it looked like it would be Gryffindor against Slytherin again. To John's surprise, he wasn't a bad captain, he could coach the team well, and the season has been almost flawless except one loss to Ravenclaw since the Gryffindor's top chaser was out from a fight in the corridors, stuck in the hospital wing because of pig's ears growing from the top of his head. When the castle was in view they had already changed into their school robes and had everything packed up and ready to go, eager to get to the castle just in time for the oncoming weekend. It was kind of stupid to get there on a Saturday, but John wasn't complaining, the more days out of classes the better. He was excited to see Sherlock again; he hoped he was okay considering everything going on. They walked up to the castle on newly shoveled paths, the stone walkways now visible and useable. The old snow had been covered again by new snow that had fallen over the holidays, covering the shingled roves with beautiful white. The teachers were noting everyone that came in, Filch scowling at the line of students stretching down from the train. They made their way down the paths, were Peeves was throwing snow from the top of the Astronomy tower onto unsuspecting passerby's. The Oak doors were open, welcoming students into warm firelight stone chambers. The sun was just going down, making the hall look even more cozy than usual. John looked hopefully to the entrance to the potions hallway, expecting to see Sherlock waiting for him, but no one was there. A spark of worry flickered inside him, but he ignored it, Sherlock was probably busy with something, or eating dinner, or simply didn't know when the train would arrive. They levitated their things up the steps to the Fat Lady's portrait, which was a lot easier than hauling it up even though magic wasn't allowed in the corridors.
"UMQRA." John said, hoping no one had changed the password since they were gone.
"Welcome back!" the Fat Lady said, her friend Violet next to her in the frame. They both had goblets of what was probably wine, so it was no question that the both of them were drunk. The portrait swung open and they climbed through, not excited to unpack. The common room was already full with students that had just returned, saying hi to their friends, showing off their new presents, or getting started on the homework they forgot to do. John was slightly hoping Sherlock would be sitting in one of the armchairs, but no such luck, he was still nowhere to be found. It was stupid to worry about him, like there was any danger around here anyway; the heir had probably gone home on Christmas like the rest of them. When they went up to their rooms, Sam and Rory were chatting as they threw clothes into their drawers.
"So are you going to go visit Sherlock?" Greg asked John quietly.
"Ya, right after this. I'm not hungry anyway." John said, they had eaten a lot of candy on the train from the trolley.
"You two are so cute." Greg laughed. John glared at him, silently agreeing. He got the rest of his things unpacked, stuffed his wand into his robe pocket, said a quick goodbye to Greg and Mike, and headed back through the portrait hole. The halls were now strangely empty, all of the students in their houses, unpacking. Compared to the common room it was eerily silent, his footsteps echoing off of the stone floors. When he made it to the dungeon door, he knocked twice, anxious to see Sherlock again. When the door opened, he smiled expectantly, but instead of Sherlock, Snape stood there, scowling.
"What do you want?" he hissed. The smile wiped off of John's face and he immediately, trying to think of a good excuse.
"Is, um, Professor Holmes there?" he asked. Snape scowled deeper at the mention of his assistant.
"No, he's been gone for most of the day." he said, a slight menacing smile appearing on his lips. Worry built up in John's stomach, where would Sherlock be?
"Do you know where he is?" he asked, knowing it was hopeless.
"Haven't the faintest." Snape said. John nodded, and wordlessly walked back to the Entrance Hall. Where could Sherlock be? The Chamber maybe? He was officially worried; Sherlock couldn't just disappear could he? Was he okay? A wave of instant calm filled him, calming his mind, his body, his soul. It didn't matter, nothing mattered, and he was in his own little world where nothing could hurt him. The world was bathed in a relaxing glow, everything was fine.
Go to the Astronomy Tower. A voice said in his head. That sounded nice, a trip up there, why not? John's feet obeyed, carrying him up the many flights of steps to the deserted tower. The wind was cold, blowing freely along with flakes of snow, but he didn't feel it, he was so relaxed it didn't matter anymore. He looked around; the view was lovely here, simply beautiful, the snow covered grounds, the cracks in the ice in the lake from where the giant squid had come out to look around, the trees of the forbidden forest swaying and spraying snow everywhere. No one else was in the tower, he was all alone, but he didn't mind, he just stood there in the middle of the tower, not caring much. He was waiting for something, he didn't know what, but something was coming, he didn't mind the wait either. He crossed his hands behind his back and watched the grounds, the movement of the snow and trees with the wind, like living creature breathing.
"John." said a weak voice. John turned his head to see Sherlock standing in the doorway, along with Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape. John smiled slightly and turned to face the small crowd of teachers, wondering why they were all gathered around.
Tell them Hello Johnny. The Voice said in his head.
"Hello." He said carelessly. Sherlock was leading the group of people, his face paler than usual, his wand out, John thought he even saw a bead of nervous sweat on his brow.
"John, come here." He begged. John looked at him simply, not moving.
This is what you get Sherly, for poking your nose where you shouldn't be, this is what you were asking for. The Voice said. John recited the lines, not understanding them, but when he closed his mouth Sherlock looked more worried than ever. The other Professors stirred nervously, their wands already in their hands.
"John, please!" Sherlock said again.
"He won't be going anywhere, in fact, he never will again." A new voice said from behind John, a man emerging from the shadows. John recognized his face, but instead of standard school robes he was wearing an expensive looking black suit and tie, a maniac smile on his face.
"Jim?" Sherlock said, almost asking him.
"Jim." Moriarty sang.
"If you hurt him I will personally send you to hell." Sherlock warned. The three professors seemed surprised by the comment, but they didn't do anything about it. John didn't know what was going on, but he was starting to feel worried. Why was Sherlock upset? Was it something he did? Sherlock shouldn't be upset, he should be happy, Sherlock deserved happy. The world didn't glow as bright. Moriarty held his wand to John's head in warning, and Sherlock's face drained of color.
"Don't you dare!" he cried, his voice cracking with worry. What was wrong with Sherlock? The calm was disappearing now, it didn't seem like a perfect world, and John could now feel the cold cutting through his robes, the wand point pressing into his temple.
"What do you want?" Sherlock asked weakly, it seemed like he would do anything.
"Jim, is there any purpose in this?" Dumbledore asked, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.
"Give me your wands, throw them to the ground." Jim commanded. The wand tip was pressed harder into John's head and the clanking of one wand echoed off of the tower. Sherlock had, without question, disposed of his.
"Do it or he will suffer!" Jim threatened. Reluctantly all the professors threw their wands on the ground. "Now, to answer your little question, there is nothing I want from you, this is what you get, you get to watch your dear boyfriend die." Jim sang. Sherlock ran at the two, his face screwed up in anger, while the professors hopelessly tried to hold him back.
"Holmes no!" McGonagall cried, but Sherlock was already too far away. The perfect world was gone forever, John wrestled from Moriarty's grip as he intercepted Sherlock, but there was no fist fight. John scrambled to the side, but Sherlock was lifted into the air and thrown like a rag doll over the side of the tower. John reached desperately, trying to grab his hand over the side, but his fingers just brushed the tips of Sherlock's cold hand. The man fell as if in slow motion, his coat flying up in the wind around him, terror on his face evident even in the darkness. His lips formed the words, "I love you" before there was a sickening crack of stone against body.

Silence.

Whatever snow hadn't been shoveled previously was dyed red, a pool of blood flooding the stones from Sherlock's body. He looked up towards John, his eyes unseeing, his face horrified, his arms and legs sprawled out unnaturally. John screamed, collapsing on the cold floor, paralyzed by grief, the once perfect world so far gone, he was positive he would never be happy again. There was a bang of red light and Moriarty fell, stunned, to the floor, but John didn't notice, he sobbed, the stars went out, the warmth swept from the world, his heart broken into a billion pieces, never to mend again. He clawed at the floor, his nailed scraping and bleeding, but the pain was like a pin prick compared to the agonizing despair filling his nerves like fire. Someone was over him, trying to comfort him in words unheard, but John pushed them off, getting to his feet with difficulty, and running down the hallway, down the steps, wailing with every step. Sherlock, his Sherlock, dead, dead just like that, dead, never to live, never to breath, never to love again. John somehow managed to plunge out into the cold; he didn't hear the students calling to him, the paintings whispering with confusion. John couldn't say anything, he wouldn't say anything, he had nothing to say, he had nothing to live for, and there was no use in life anymore, nothing to do except to get to the broken body of his one and true love bleeding and cracking on the stones outside of the castle that had seemed the perfect place before. He dove through the snow, through the grounds, the wind, seeing a black shape disturbing the flat. He ran faster than he could, suddenly splashing through scarlet liquid, splashing in his own lover's blood. He collapsed at his side, cradling the dark curls in his hands, the glassy eyes reflecting the stars he couldn't see. Sherlock's face was deathly pale, as if he was already a ghost. There was no heartbeat, there was no pulse, nothing to show any signs of life. John held the body to him, the pain multiplying, his tears streaming more than possible, a waterfall splashing into a sea of blood.
"SHERLOCK!" John screamed with the most heart breaking, life ending, love destroying scream any person could ever be cursed to hear.
A/N: I am seriously sorry :( not the end though! One more part I believe