Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.
A/N – Angst and melodrama ahoy! Seriously, this fic is drowning in teeny angst and madness. I suppose you could say I was having a bad day…. On a serious note, this is so teen angsty it may give you acne and it doesn't really make a lot of sense.
Vampire
Harry knows what it is like to be a vampire.
He knows what it is like to feel dead inside, cold on the outside and filled with an insatiable thirst.
He knows what it feels like to sleep the day away and wake up feeling hollow when the moon and the stars are the only light around.
Emotionless and cruel,
He knows that,
understands that,
felt that,
experienced that,
…is that.
Hollow is all he feels in the wake of Sirius's death. He would almost rather the agonising ache in his chest and the inability to breath from those first few moments after his Godfather had slipped from the world.
He wanted that anger that had made his limbs weightless and his boundaries limitless.
Though he must have left that with Bellatrix, poured it into that crucio because now he can't feel a thing. His limbs are like lead and he doesn't want to lift his head from his pillow.
The sun is too cheerful and he doesn't want that, not now, he wants the darkness and the hollowness.
All that passion that fuelled his fight seems to have died with his heart, with his soul because he doesn't want to fight; he wants to drain the life out of the world.
Wants the colour to bleed out of the sky and grass and the walls and the skin and the heart and….
The night is dark and colourless and Harry likes that. No more colour, no burning light and no happiness.
Harry wants that, wants to turn white as the veil and wants his eyes to be death itself.
Like his eyes had leapt out of that wand and killed his mother.
Like they had killed Cedric.
Like he gave a fuck.
It was hard to care when all he wanted to do was sleep. Shut his eyes and let the world fall away, let the sun burn it to pieces with its eternal brightness.
Let Voldemort into his mind and see the mess he had made.
It didn't hurt anymore, the scar, maybe Voldemort wasn't bothered with his mind now.
Or maybe it was because Harry felt nothing,
cared for nothing,
ate nothing,
hungered for nothing,
except for blood.
Vengeance and that feeling, alive, alive, alive and burning and cursing her, white as death and mad as a rabid dog.
…but fun to kick, to drain her happiness and take it into him.
To bite her,
make her bleed,
make her empty,
take her happiness and life,
take back what she stole.
She was his maker, she gave him this half-life, this eternal darkness.
The cold in his bones and the aching stillness in his chest, the numbness in his fingers and his dead eyes.
She gave him weightless limbs and burning fire and she made him thirst for blood.
She gave him a half-life when he had a full life.
A bright star that chased away the darkness snuffed out by the female warrior.
And Harry remained trapped in the dark room, the prison he is confined to for his own safety…his own coffin.
Harry knew what it was like to be a vampire.
A/N – Let me know what you think, please? That being if you can crawl out of that mess, I don't know where it came from but ….eh we all need more teenage angst and melodrama in our lives, don't we?
Leave a review please? :)