Summary: The outcome of the Great Wizarding War has left Harry's mind shattered. Hogwarts has been mutilated beyond recognition, the land bruised, the black still oppressive and foreboding. The students' bodies, among aurors and teachers, are strewn haphazardly about, not a single soul left on the bloodied grounds. Except for one.
Warnings: Blood, corpses, schizophrenia, post-traumatic stress disorder, cannibalism, necrophilia, mild slash. Harry/Voldemort, if you squint.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This is entirely a work of fiction, and I do not receive any profit.
Author's Notes: Con-crit is greatly appreciated! I apologize for the awful summary, and if you have decided to read it despite this, then you are my favorite. Seriously. Also, this is my first time writing something like this, so it may be completely terrible. I'm very sorry, once again. - Mildred.
Pretty Red
The people were starting to make for bad company. They were lazy, and Harry had to manhandle most of them into the Great Hall, else they would have just gone on lying there outside in the mud. At dinner, they kept falling forward into their bangers and mash, falling asleep right there at the table! After this happened three night in a row, Harry threw his plate and stood, crying, tears painting stripes on his cheeks (you're my friends! none of you ever listen to me anymore! don't you know how rude that is? hello? hello? wake up! listen to me!), but they just looked at him with black holes. Harry would shiver and leave the Hall, seeking out one of his friends who could still smile at him and make him feel better. After a while, though, he couldn't find anyone left who still looked at him like that. Happy. All their teeth began turning colors, tongues swelling, lips cracking. Harry thought it might be because of the new game they all played where they held real still and let worms and things crawl in their mouths.
The people were starting to stink. Harry tried to ignore it at first, but then some of Seamus's skin came off during a match of Exploding Snap and Harry vomited. He didn't play with Seamus anymore of that. Harry was so ashamed. Seamus must have thought him so impolite.
The people made noise at night. Harry heard them, but when he looked out his when, everyone was still lying down. Harry eventually put it out of mind, knowing they must be sleeptalking.
All the pretty red on the walls and the ground had dried up, crusty and brown. Harry scratched at the creases of his elbows, his wrists, his thighs, his face until more came out, and he licked his fingers, tasting it, pleased, before drawing pictures on the parts of the walls that weren't disintegrating.
The kitchen stopped working, and the house elves wouldn't move. No one else would have been good enough. Ginny was sweet, and Harry hoped she tasted like honey ham.
The flesh peeled easily from the muscle, and she did not cry. "Shhh, shh," Harry whispered, wrapping a hand in her flaming hair. He tugged gently at it as he kissed her her lips, the scalp ripping with a wet, muffled sound. He smiled down at her, probing at her mouth gently with his tongue before he placed the peeled flesh in his mouth, chewing greedily. He glared at Dean, who was watching them. He was probably still jealous.
He savored the taste of her as he unbuttoned her dirty uniform. He grabbed a knife from a nearby table and gently carved into her skin, digging with the blade until - ah! yes, he found it, twining his fingers in her blood stained ribcage, pulling. Crack! Harry smiled, pleased, and he wrapped a hand around the still muscle, the instrument of her devotion to him. He tore her underwear away under her skirt before licking his fingers, softly touching her just there, cold and sweetly fuzzy. Harry didn't think Ginny would mind if he didn't prepare her all that well, so he unzipped his pants, giving his drizzling cock a quick stroke before sinking into her. As he thrusted into the smooth passage, he pulled her heart from her chest, snapping the arteries and veins clinging to it. As he put the thing in his mouth, he reached completion, crying out around his mouthful of his fiancée's heart.
The sky was still black and upset when a man came to visit Harry. He looked like an alien, but Harry didn't mind. A lot of his friends looked a lot worse. The man smiled at Harry sadly, reaching out to touch his dirty face. "Harry," he whispered. Harry smiled back at the stranger when he saw that the man's eyes were pretty red. Harry wondered, if cut them open, would there be more?
"Harry," he said again, "you can't keep wandering off like this. I thought I told you to stop coming back here? Leave these bodies in peace. This isn't good for you." As he spoke, the man wiped Harry's cheek with his thumb, absently lifting the pretty red to his mouth to suck on it. Harry didn't understand what he was saying, so he licked the man's lips, taking back the pretty wet stuff.
The man sighed, seeming sad again, and Harry suddenly had the oddest feeling that this had happened before. He brushed it off, picking at the scabs on his arms. The man pulled Harry close, wrapping him in his big cloak. "Come. Let's go home and clean you up."