Disclaimer: I own Axel. That's right, Axel Lucas is my creation. :D Other than that, I own very little. I admit this. So don't sue me. x3

Warnings: There may be smutt in future chapters. I'm not sure yet. Also, this fan fiction revolves around book six in the series, so, it's got a LOT of spoilers.

Authors Note: The first few chapters are short, I know this. But, it's because I'm just getting into it all. Stick with me, have a little faith, and the fan fiction will ship up a little.

Chapter One;
Horatio

The reason I want to spit
these creaky old memories out
is because I don't have any
other proof of my existence
-Rewrite, L'ArcEnCiel

I almost remember happy times. I almost remember times when the looming threat of Voldemort wasn't scaring the piss out of my family, and I almost remember the last time I actually smiled. Almost.

I've always looked up to my father, in a way, but I've never believed the same things as him. For instance, I know for a fact that my old man is a Deatheater… and I hate it. I hate Voldemort, and I hate his followers, I hate that wretched man's ideas… of course, being a pureblood wizard in the Slytherin house at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I've never actually had the guts to admit it, because I don't want my whole family obliterated. That and I actually don't mind half-bloods and muggleborns… I mean… they really aren't all that bad. Well... except for that Hermione Granger. Can't stand her, she thinks she's all that and a bag of potato chips. Other than that, I don't mind them. Harry's not a bad guy, though I'd never say THAT out loud either. I'd be disowned by everyone I know.

I sighed quietly, and finished packing my trunk, even though it probably should've been done three days ago, when my mother first started asking. I went through, made sure everything I needed was inside, and quickly bolted it shut, sitting on the lid and looking across my room, into the mirror, only to have a freak stare back at me.

Wild black hair stuck up everywhere, the natural darkness untouched by any sort of dye, and it always looks like I've just rolled out of bed… that's the way I've always liked it. My eyes, green-blue like the colour of the sea on a stormy day, look back, taking in the entire freak that is me. My skinny little frame, untouched by all the food I manage to eat, was adorned in a pair of black jeans that were a little bit tight on me, a blue Say Anything t-shirt (muggle bands are amazing), and a plain black hoodie. My long arms have pale hands with long fingers attached. My mother calls them 'pianist fingers', and even though I took lessons as a child, I've never been to into the piano. My legs, long like my arms, are shaved and hairless, as I hate body hair that's not on the top of someone's head. I've always hated body hair… but my fingers always seem to end up tangled up in the hair on someone's head when we kiss. I don't even know how… it's like they have their own minds.

A cigarette hung from my lips, and the ring of pink eyeliner around my eyes needed a little bit of touching up, but other than that… I looked like I always did; the odd one out. My parents, with their fair hair and bright blue eyes, whom I look nothing like, and my older brother, the magical boy, you know, the one your parents just give all of their affection to because he's better? He looks just like them. I'm probably the mailman's kid or something. I can't help but giggle at the ridiculous thought of that, and then there's a banging on the door.

"It's open." I offered gently, looking at the wooden door of my bedroom as it opened, and my father stepped in.

"You're all packed for tomorrow, then?" He asked eyes steely, like they always were around the bad son… the gay son.

"Yeah, I'm packed, my alarm is set to wake me up, and my cat will be in his basket by leaving time tomorrow." I replied looking at the black and orange, sleeping lump on my blankets.

"Good. You should probably get some sleep then. Tomorrow, I'll bring you to the station and see you off."

"Like always, dad." I offered, before nodding, "Night." I added, and he turned and walked out, bidding me goodnight as he shut the door. I sighed, and curled up on the bed next to Horatio, the aforementioned cat, petting him softly.

"So, Horatio, you ready for another year of living away from home with a bunch of strange people who often times try to kick you? Yeah, I bet." I muttered, resting my head on his stomach, closing my eyes. Horatio always seemed to like my using him as a pillow.

So, I bet you're all thinking 'Horatio? What kind of name is that for a cat?' Well, I'll tell you. In Hamlet, Horatio is Hamlet's most trusted friend and Hamlet reveals all his plans to Horatio. Horatio swears to secrecy about the ghost and Hamlet's pretense of madness, and conspires with Hamlet to prove Claudius's guilt in the mousetrap play. He is the first to know of Hamlet's return from England, and informs Hamlet of Ophelia's death

At the end of the play, Horatio proposes to finish off the poisoned drink which was intended for Hamlet, saying that he is 'more an antique Roman than a Dane', but the dying prince wrestles the cup away from him and bids Horatio to live, help put things right in Denmark. Hamlet's last request creates an interesting parallel between the name Horatio and the Latin orator, meaning "speaker".

And I like that muggle show with the cool CSI's… you know, CSI; Miami. But that doesn't matter, the Shakespearian one sounds smarter.

Anyhow, Horatio (as in the cat under my head) yowled his head off when he was a kitten, which made me want to name him Orator, but that wasn't a good name. Then I read Hamlet and just like that, kitty had a name.

The thing about going somewhere for me is this; I can never manage to get much sleep before I have to get up and go. So, every year, on the last night of summer vacation, I sit on my bed, with Horatio, and I think. I think about all the bad memories from home, the good memories from home, the bad memories from school, and the good memories from school.

Home. Home… I have a love/hate relationship with home. I can't wait to come home, and then I can't wait to leave again.

I've always been the son that my parents look down on, because I'm the gay one, and I don't fit in, and I don't go about hexing anyone who isn't a pureblood at school. And my brother, oh the relentless 'Well I have this…' or 'I did that…' it's just like. SHUT THE HELL UP, ALREADY ART. Gwar. But at the age of sixteen, you're just used to it, and it's only at the worst times when you want to shove an old sock in his mouth to shut him up.

Of course, the worst memory I have from home has to be when I was about thirteen, and my parents walked in on me and the muggle boy from next door snogging. Well, let me tell you, I'd never been so terrified for my life. My father had that 'YOU ARE SO DEAD' look in his eyes. We moved. I never saw that muggle boy again. My father never looked at me the same again, and my mother doesn't talk to me much anymore. Who wants a son that won't carry on the family name? Well, at least they've got Art to do that for them.

Art shall go forth and multiply, and I shall stick it in boys. That's going to be life, and I seem to be the only one who doesn't care. Oh well.

School, on the other hand, I don't mind. People tend to ignore me as long as I ignore them, and since I'm in Slytherin, few people from the other three houses talk to me anyway, which suits me fine…

Sometimes I get lonely, though, and then I can always just chat away with one of the ghosts. They seem to enjoy my company, and you can learn so much from them.

There's one thing that I always find myself going back to school for, though. It's a boy. A very, very pretty boy in my house. We share a dorm, even… of course, this boy tends to ignore me unless he needs something, and I guess I'm content with just watching him in his everyday life. But you know how when you fancy someone sometimes you just wish they'd notice you? Say hi in the hall or give you a little smile? Yeah, it's like that. I don't like being so lonely knowing that the boy I fancy doesn't notice me, and probably never will.

I don't think anyone likes that.

I'm Axel Lucas, and I'm starting my sixth year at a school for wizards and witches tomorrow.
I'm in love with a boy.
This boy barely knows me.
This boy is Draco Malfoy.