***DISCLAIMER***: This fic will eventually contain themes that may be
offensive such as violence and sex. There will be slash, D/H eventually.
However my story is about much more than that, love, adventure, mystery.
So, if you don't approve of such things, move along. If you don't mind it,
read on at your own risk.
***DISCLAIMER*** Unfortunately, I do not own the world of Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does, so please don't sue me. I haven't got any money, and its only fan-fiction after all. The only thing that is mine is the plot and so far Évelyne, so please ask before borrowing ideas.
Please read and review! This is my first fic., and I'd love to get opinions
Fairy Rings Can Be Rather Tricky Things
Chapter One: Fading Dreams and Lost Sleep
Harry' Point of View
Dreams fade in and out of my mind like dark shadows floating over the moon. Every night it's the same, and I wake up covered in sweat and other more sticky fluids with a name I can't remember on the tip of my tongue. Why can't I remember that name, that face, that body that leans over me with the lush lips and heavy, liquid promises of sex and maybe something more meaningful? I shivered to myself and pull my coverlet more tightly around my body and force my eyes back shut. Maybe if I close my eyes I'll remember. maybe.
I jump awake to the violently annoying sound of my alarm clock and sigh quietly into my pillow. It's 9:35, and I still can't remember. I flick the off switch and lay still in my bed for a few moments, gazing dazedly at the ceiling. I'm going back to Hogwarts in just two short weeks, but really, it's hard to get all that excited about it. Last term, when I defeated Voldemort and so many of my friend and teachers died, I know things can't, won't be the same. Nothing will be the same. Professor McGonagall, Dean, Hagrid, Cho, Fred. so many people from all the houses gone. I roll onto my pillow and press my face into it to smother my sobs.
The Weasley's offered to adopt me, take me in this summer, but I couldn't go to them. I couldn't take having to look into Ron's accusing eyes every day, demanding why I couldn't have saved his brother. God, will he ever forgive me? Even George, Fred's other half, didn't blame me. So why the bloody fuck does Ron. My sobs grow louder, more desperate, and I try to quiet them so the Dursley's won't hear me. No wonder I fixate on those dreams so much, they're my only respite from the growing horrors of my everyday life.
Lying in bed though isn't going to make your life better, Potter. Though these days it's not much of a reassurance. Besides, it's not as if I'm completely alone in the world. After all, Hermoine keeps up correspondence with me, and Sirius does too, but he's off in Egypt right now, albeit exonerated of his supposed crimes, off tracking down the last of the Death Eaters. That's why I'm not with him.
Thinking of how much I miss my Godfather isn't cheering me up either, so I yank myself out of bed and sprint to the shower. I don't have to worry about Dudley beating me there; the fat git is never up this early.
Just as my hand reaches out for the porcelain doorknob, troubled voices from down stairs drift up to tickle my ears. Aunt Petunia's talking to a woman, and she doesn't sound very happy. Oh well. Normally, I might be curious, but I've got to take leak and seeing strangers first thing in the morning isn't my favorite way to start the day.
A quick shower and dressing, and I'm creeping slowly down the stairs. Aunt Petunia's voice is straining in barely repressed anger, and a woman with a voice like tinkling bells or babbling brooks retorts replies that sound savage as broken glass and splintered bone. I can't quit make out what they are saying; their tones carry but not the words.
"Don't feed me lies Petunia! I know he's here, and I demand to speak with him." The other woman fairly hisses. "I'll not be put off. I made Lily and James a promise years ago, and it is time I kept my word."
"Évelyne, I don't care what you promised my sister, my answer is no. I'm not going to let a, a creature like you take my nephew, even if he is a wretch." Aunt Petunia was in a real fury now.
"So is it true then that you mistreat the boy?" The woman's voice grew cold and menacing.
"Where did you hear that, Évelyne? Are those ridiculous people telling you that?"
"It's what Arthur Weasley has said on occasion."
I'd finally heard enough so I finished slinking down the stairs and stepped into the living room. Aunt Pertunia's eyes went wide as she caught sight of me in the doorway, and she opened her mouth to speak but no words escaped from her thin pinched lips.
The woman sitting across from her finally, slowly, with unimaginable languid grace, turned towards me and stood. An unidentifiable expression crossed over her pretty face and she spoke one word with a tone of refined longing and sadness. "Harry."
***DISCLAIMER*** Unfortunately, I do not own the world of Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does, so please don't sue me. I haven't got any money, and its only fan-fiction after all. The only thing that is mine is the plot and so far Évelyne, so please ask before borrowing ideas.
Please read and review! This is my first fic., and I'd love to get opinions
Fairy Rings Can Be Rather Tricky Things
Chapter One: Fading Dreams and Lost Sleep
Harry' Point of View
Dreams fade in and out of my mind like dark shadows floating over the moon. Every night it's the same, and I wake up covered in sweat and other more sticky fluids with a name I can't remember on the tip of my tongue. Why can't I remember that name, that face, that body that leans over me with the lush lips and heavy, liquid promises of sex and maybe something more meaningful? I shivered to myself and pull my coverlet more tightly around my body and force my eyes back shut. Maybe if I close my eyes I'll remember. maybe.
I jump awake to the violently annoying sound of my alarm clock and sigh quietly into my pillow. It's 9:35, and I still can't remember. I flick the off switch and lay still in my bed for a few moments, gazing dazedly at the ceiling. I'm going back to Hogwarts in just two short weeks, but really, it's hard to get all that excited about it. Last term, when I defeated Voldemort and so many of my friend and teachers died, I know things can't, won't be the same. Nothing will be the same. Professor McGonagall, Dean, Hagrid, Cho, Fred. so many people from all the houses gone. I roll onto my pillow and press my face into it to smother my sobs.
The Weasley's offered to adopt me, take me in this summer, but I couldn't go to them. I couldn't take having to look into Ron's accusing eyes every day, demanding why I couldn't have saved his brother. God, will he ever forgive me? Even George, Fred's other half, didn't blame me. So why the bloody fuck does Ron. My sobs grow louder, more desperate, and I try to quiet them so the Dursley's won't hear me. No wonder I fixate on those dreams so much, they're my only respite from the growing horrors of my everyday life.
Lying in bed though isn't going to make your life better, Potter. Though these days it's not much of a reassurance. Besides, it's not as if I'm completely alone in the world. After all, Hermoine keeps up correspondence with me, and Sirius does too, but he's off in Egypt right now, albeit exonerated of his supposed crimes, off tracking down the last of the Death Eaters. That's why I'm not with him.
Thinking of how much I miss my Godfather isn't cheering me up either, so I yank myself out of bed and sprint to the shower. I don't have to worry about Dudley beating me there; the fat git is never up this early.
Just as my hand reaches out for the porcelain doorknob, troubled voices from down stairs drift up to tickle my ears. Aunt Petunia's talking to a woman, and she doesn't sound very happy. Oh well. Normally, I might be curious, but I've got to take leak and seeing strangers first thing in the morning isn't my favorite way to start the day.
A quick shower and dressing, and I'm creeping slowly down the stairs. Aunt Petunia's voice is straining in barely repressed anger, and a woman with a voice like tinkling bells or babbling brooks retorts replies that sound savage as broken glass and splintered bone. I can't quit make out what they are saying; their tones carry but not the words.
"Don't feed me lies Petunia! I know he's here, and I demand to speak with him." The other woman fairly hisses. "I'll not be put off. I made Lily and James a promise years ago, and it is time I kept my word."
"Évelyne, I don't care what you promised my sister, my answer is no. I'm not going to let a, a creature like you take my nephew, even if he is a wretch." Aunt Petunia was in a real fury now.
"So is it true then that you mistreat the boy?" The woman's voice grew cold and menacing.
"Where did you hear that, Évelyne? Are those ridiculous people telling you that?"
"It's what Arthur Weasley has said on occasion."
I'd finally heard enough so I finished slinking down the stairs and stepped into the living room. Aunt Pertunia's eyes went wide as she caught sight of me in the doorway, and she opened her mouth to speak but no words escaped from her thin pinched lips.
The woman sitting across from her finally, slowly, with unimaginable languid grace, turned towards me and stood. An unidentifiable expression crossed over her pretty face and she spoke one word with a tone of refined longing and sadness. "Harry."