Sami Potter, Yes, I wanted to make Lily different. I am glad you approve. As to Harry's age, I think that he is around five or six. Thank you most sincerely.

Fire, The depth and thoughtfulness of your review leaves me stunned. I must say that you are quite insightful and have quite struck upon the foundation of Tom's motivations. I am most anxious to please you and continue to earn any kind words you deem me worthy of.

evelia, Your words leave me feeling quite, quite ecstatic. Your wonderful picture pitched me head first into the utmost pleasure. I am thrilled beyond the expression of mere words. You are far more deserving of everyone's praise.

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Mortal Eternity

_____

It is lonely living among the dead…

He sees a ghost made material by some grotesque science. This ghost regards him with eyes of one long dead set in a face of another such one. This is not possible. It cannot be. Yet, the proof watches him with unwavering and childlike curiosity.

Remus Lupin questions his sanity in those eyes of deepest emerald. Yet, his new master told him explicitly that no mental obstruction hindered his senses. His faculties remain as fixed as they ever were.

"Say, hello, my wolf," the devil commands gently. Beneath the genial words lurks a razorblade to cut him to bleeding strips of soiled humanity.

"Hello," he says obediently.

"Hello," the ghost-child replies shyly.

"I see recognition in your face, my wolf. He looks familiar, doesn't he?" Numbly affranchised man nods his head, all the while drowning in lakes of green. His lips part to admit the passage of a single word, but the power of the geas roars through his mind and body and snatches away the vocalization.

The devil smiles with knowing amusement and caresses the child with calculated intimacy. Remus flinches away.

"Yes, he holds a striking resemblance to a certain dead compatriot—and one still living." The man knows the devil is mercilessly teasing him. He holds out the parcel of information like a scrap of meat before a starving dog. Unfortunately, the man's fangs have been pulled.

"What would James say about this?"

What would he say? What? What?

Life, wife and child purloined one cold, unforgiving night. Him, helpless observer in the afterlife to the cruelties and tender violations imposed upon his loved ones. What can the dead say?

And Lily, why she must live! But in what state? How have six years of imprisonment and abuse changed the tender young woman? Would her indomitable spirit remain? Or would she be nothing more than a carved out shell?

"James?" Remus jerks free from the insidious grasp of his thoughts upon hearing his friend's name hissed with such resentment. The child, who could only be Harry, glares angrily between the devil and himself.

"Well," the crimson-eyed devil says with a sly smile, "He was a good friend of your mother."

"Mother…" Deep sorrow fills the boy's eyes with crystalline drops.

"Mister Lupin, here, is another friend. You two were quite close, weren't you?" Remus wants to bury his fingers in the devils glinting eyes and feel them burst under the pressure. He wants to press in with his fingers till he can scramble the gray matter of his brain. He chokes upon his insatiable rage.

"Well, let's head in. We still have a few matters to discuss."

*          *          *

Laughing, they burn…

"Tom?" Harry queries softly as he pushes the bedroom door open. The hinges issue a forlorn whine of protest. The room is all darkness save for the wedge of light tugging his elongated shadow across the floor. He can barely discern the sheet-covered form that is Tom.

Harry dithers in the doorway. The too-real fragments of his nightmare prick him uncomfortably. He wants to enter and crawl in beside Tom, but the nightmare grips him too tightly. It presses into his chest and constricts his lungs.

Once he had sought reassurances in mother's bed. He'll never forget how she screamed like some mortally wounded thing. Kicking and screaming, she drove him onto the floor.

"Demon child! Hated thing!" she shrieked as she threw pillows at him.

He's never sought her out since.

Tom's never done that. Tom always welcomes him to his bed with peppermint kisses and kind touches. When Tom isn't at home, Harry has to curl up in his lonely bed and wait for morning's pallid light.

Tonight, though, he can't bring himself to cross the floor and reach the bed. In his nightmare he was drowning in an ocean of red liquid and held under by a pair of tender hands. A smiling face watched him and told him that everything would be fine soon. But it wasn't! And it had felt so real, as if he was reliving it and not just dreaming.

"Tom?" he croaks a little louder. His feet are rooted to the spot. He knows Tom will make everything better; he always does.

"Tom?"

"Harry?"

Harry yelps in surprise and whirls around to find a bedraggled Mr. Lupin.

"What are you doing up?" the man asks softly. Harry shifts nervously. He isn't sure if he likes Mr. Lupin. He doesn't know if he can like anyone who was or is friends with James.

"Nightmare," Harry mutters. Mr. Lupin nods in an understanding.

"I have those, too."

"Y-You do?"

"Yes." There is something haunted about Mr. Lupin's voice. Harry has the peculiar notion that Mr. Lupin may understand what his nightmares are like in a way that Tom can't. This knowledge disturbs him. Isn't Tom the only one who understands? Mother certainly doesn't, or even cares to. Mr. Lupin is little more than a stranger Harry met earlier today.

"W-What do you do?" Gingerly Mr. Lupin knees before Harry. His face is in shadow, but Harry can sense the hesitant, compassionate smile. Warm hands—so different from Tom's cool ones—frame his face.

"I—"

"Yes, what do you do, my tamed wolf?" Tom's voice cracks angrily through the air. Harry jerks away from Mr. Lupin. Guilt flushes his pale cheeks.

"Do you howl your anguish to the uncaring night? Or weep like an abandoned babe?" Harry has never heard Tom like this before. Tom seems angry in a way that frightens Harry. Tom is upset with him!

He turns to find Tom sitting up in bed. Tom's red eyes glow with rage.

"T-Tom?" Those terribly glowing eyes transfix Harry. They burn into him. A small whimper of fear passes his lips.

Tom hisses a string of strange words. A strange force grasps Harry's arms and jerks him fully into the room. Mr. Lupin yells his name as the door slams shut.

Shivering and whimpering, Harry presses himself back against the closed door to escape Tom's burning eyes. He doesn't like this Tom! He wants the nice Tom back!

"No!" he yells and squeezes his eyes closed. This is just part of the bad dream. This isn't real. This isn't.

Fat tears trickle down his cheeks.

"Harry?" Tom's soft voice startles him. Cautiously Harry opens his eyes. "Are you okay, angel?"

"Tom?" Harry gasps. Tom's eyes are normal.

"Was it another nightmare?" Harry nods frantically. Tom makes a small sound of sympathy and opens his arms. "Come here." Wiping the tears from his eyes, Harry scrambles up and throws himself at Tom.

"It was horrible!" Large, cool hands stroke his back and draw him close to Tom's body.

"Shh, it's alright now. What did you dream about?" Tenderly Tom kisses his face as Harry tells him about his nightmare. Soon he finds himself lulled to a peaceful complacency by Tom's reassurances and caresses.

"I'm going to keep you in a box," Tom whispers lovingly. "Keep you tucked away where only I can find you."

Harry nods languidly as sleep claims him.

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