Involves depression and self mutilation I.E. cutting
If you review mine I'll review yours!
I don't think I'll give you an idea of the plot quite yet...I don't want to give anything away (or maybe I'm not sure yet, pick your favorite)
Discalimers: I don't own these characters...blahblah...and I don't own
any of the Beatles' music (rest in peace John Lennon and George Harrison...oh
yes and Dave Thomas, Kurt Cobain, Dr. Bronner and the old lady on the Old
Navy commercials)
"Morning, gorgeous," mumbled a sleepy Harry
Potter as he rolled onto his side.
"Yeah, what'd you expect?" murmured
another voice, heavy with sleep and heat. The snobby voice had drifted
form somewhere underneath silver-blond hair falling over the face of Draco
Malfoy. His back was to Harry and he had his face burrowed into the
pillow.
"I swear, Draco, you get more stuck up everyday,"
Harry chuckled as he stretched his arms while still laying down A
faint moan escaped from his lips as he scrunched up his face. His
body was always sore in the morning.
"And you get stupider every day, Harry."
"Only from being with you. It rubs off,
mate." Draco seemed to give up on the insults at first, but then
Harry realized he had fallen asleep again. So he grabbed hold of
the blanket and pulled hard. The comforter slid off Draco revealing
a well built pale-skinned body in boxers with tomatoes on them.
Harry had bought them for him last year on his birthday. The sleeping
form reached back with a blind hand and snatched at the blanket.
When Harry threw it off the bed, Draco slowly sat up and shook his head.
A sheet of silver shook back and forth and glinted in the morning sunlight.
Harry fake sighed as he dreamily watched the blond locks shining as they
moved.
"What's with you?"
"Oh, just realizing how lucky I am to be with
someone as concieted as you. At least you're always really hot."
He gave Draco a lopsided grin but was knocked back on the bed as Draco
pounced on him. "My beautiful little ferret," laughed Harry as he
and Draco wrestled on the mattress. Draco managed to pin Harry by
his shoulders and said through clenched teeth, "I'm gonna make you pay
for that one, Potter." Then he smiled and pressed his lips to Harry's and
kissed him so passionatly that Harry had to force him away when he needed
a breath. His lips were bright red from the action. He gasped
for a minute but then looked thoughtful. He added, "I don't think
I mind this kind of punishment." He wrapped his arms around Draco
and forced him to lay down. Bare chest pressed against bare chest
as the boxer clad wizards kissed again, running their fingers through each
other's sleep-tousled hair.
* * * * *
By the time they had put a momentary pause
on their passion and decided they should eat something before anymore wild
love, it was noon. They sat across from each other at the small dining
table and silently munched their cereal. Harry read the back of the
Lucky Charms box. He looked up at Draco, reading the Daily Prophet,
disheveled hair hanging like a curtain in front of his face and his eyebrows
furrowed as he read. Harry smiled at the slender firgure as he sat
crosslegged in his tomato boxers looking so serious, but ever so cute.
A small pop caused Harry to look down into
his bowl. A red balloon marshmallow had popped, and there were little
bubbles floating out of the bowl. Wizard Lucky Charms were so much
more interesting that regular ones, beacuse they acutally were charms,
not just marshmallows. He dragged over the page of comics Draco never
read and crunched methodically as he read Garfield.
When Harry finished eating, he was whistling
as he dried his bowl and was putting it up in the cabinet when Draco started
singing along to what Harry was whistling. "Love, love me do!
You know I love you, I'll always be true, so pleeeaaasse...love me do,"
"Whoooaaaa love me do! Love me do, you
know I love you! I'll always be true, so pleeeaaaase....love me do."
"Someone to love, somebody new!"
"Someone to love, someone like you!"
Harry had always loved the Beatles when he first heard Uncle Vernon watching
a show about music. Of course, the short necked, red faced man had
complained loudly about the length of their hair and glared nastily at
Harry when he said it. But, Harry still sang the songs around the
house so much that Draco knew almost every single word. Draco also
knew how they were rumored to be dead when Abbey Road came out, and how
one could supposedly hear John Lenon speaking to the devil if you played
one of the albums backwards. Harry was devestated for months when
George Harrison died. So, naturally, Draco joined in singing with
Harry. They were in the middle of the chorus of "Love Me Do"
when a soft knock came on the door to the kitchen. "Come in!"
Harry yelled. In walked in an absurdly tall and thin red head covered
with freckles and an arm around another man with brown hair and sparkling
blue eyes, a short witch with curly brown hair and a black man with a wide,
white grin.
"Oh G-God hi! Wow, I didn't know you
guys were coming today!"
"Obviously," muttered Hermione, the brown
haired witch, eyeing Harry and Draco in their boxers with the kitchen littered
with marshmallows and milk.
"Oh relax, Herms," said her husband, Dean.
"Harry! So great to see you, mate. It's been a while, hasn't
it." He stepped forward and gave Harry a big hug and clapped him
on the back. Before letting him go, he whispered in his ear, "Oh,
and Harry, the barn door is open." Harry blushed and buttoned the
flap on his plaid boxers.
"Yo, Harry! When are you two scoundrels
gonna come visit me 'n Seamus?" The red head, Ron, stepped forward
and plucked a marshmallow horseshoe from Harry's hair. He looked
at it, then popped it into his mouth. He and Seamus had just recently
gotten together, and Hermione and Dean had gotten married a few years ago.
"Sorry, Weasel, we've been busy. We'll
put on our to-do list." That was Draco, using his patented smirk
and drawl combination on Ron. They had long since given up on being
enemies for Harry's sake, but they still happily insulted each other any
chance they had.
"Good, my amazing-bouncing-ferret friend.
I'm glad, I haven't seen you guys in ages."
"Yeah, it's been too long. You guys
remember the days at Hogwarts? The Hogsmeade weekends, with the Butterbeer
and talking to Madam Rosmerta? What do you two say to joining us
for pint with some old friends?" That was Seamus, his Irish accent
as strong as ever. All of them got dreamy looks on their faces, remembering
the cold, snowy days in the the Thrree Broomsticks. Without saying
anything, Harry and Draco dissapeared into their room to get properly dressed.
"If you guys take too long, I'm gonna come
check on you! I'll close my eyes, don't worry!" Came Hermione's
voice, dripping with sarcasm and floating into Harry and Draco's room as
they dressed.
"Ahh lay off Granger! We're almost out!
Sheesh," yelled Daco, over his shoulder. He looked up when Harry
came out of the bathroom, and pretended to gasp and clutch his heart.
He staggered into the bed saying, "Wow, Harry! Amazing! Simply
amazing! Wow, I don't think I can stand up, you are so God damn hot!"
Harry looked at himself in the full-length mirror and grinned when he inspected
his relfection. He had chosen to wear something, a bit, different
than usual because he saw what the others were wearing. Everything
clothing his friends was on the snug side. Harry was wearing tight
leather pants and a clingy shirt that showed his thin but toned body, his
hair was artfully crazy, and was sticking up as shiny gel held it gently
but firmly in place. On most people, it would've looked like they
rolled out of bed after sleeping with wet hair, but Harry's look was totally
transformed...it made him look positively dangerous. He turned around
like a model on a runway and looked seductively at Draco. "I do,
do I? Well, well, well...you don't look half bad yourself, my friend."
Draco nodded knowingly as he ran his fingers
through straight blonde hair that fell to right below his ears and walked
to Harry infront of the mirror, wearing leather pants as well, and a muscle
shirt to go with it. He grabbed Harry's arm and the two walked into
the living room. Ron's jaw dropped when he saw them, and Seamus waved
his hand in front of Ron's face when he stared at Harry's shirt clinging
to his chest. "Helllooo...Ron? Remember me? Seamus?
I look good in leather pants too, you told me yourself!"
"Oh, heh heh, sorry Seamus. Just a litte
surprised. Didn't know you owned anything like that, Harry."
"There's lots of things you don't know about me,
Ron." Everyone in the room got cold shivers hearing the mystery in
Harry's voice and seeing the odd grin on his face. But then he laughed
and said, still chuckling, "Well, I'm ready! Let's go then!"
His friends jumped then stood up at the same time.
* * * * *
The six old friends Apparated with a pop right out side of the Three Broomsticks. They were chatting happily when they stepped inside, and were met with silence. Everyone in the bar had looked up and were extremely surprised to see one of the Malfoy's with the old Gryffindor friends...and to see them all dressed like that. In a few seconds, the babble of talk broke out again, and Harry smiled to himself as he went to go sit down. 'Still popular,' he thought as he sat next to Draco in the booth.
What am I doing? No! I won't do it! You can't make me! Let me out! Please....no! Why should I do that! No, you can't make me! No...
Ron returned from getting drinks. He
slid a large mug of mulled mead across the table to Seamus, and then to
the rest of the people at the table. "Cheers!" Everyone shouted
and the air was soon filled with the clinking of many glasses. Drops
of mead sloshed on the table and everyone drank deeply. Satisfied
sighs leaked into the air one by one as the six swallowed and set the mugs
down. Seamus was the last to put his mug down - half empty.
He smacked his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Ron chuckled as Hermione stared and Dean laughed a deep, belly laugh.
Draco was grinning with Harry and laughter exploded when Seamus let out
a huge belch.
They were sipping their mead in silence when
Hermione broke the silence, saying, "Harry, there was something I wanted
to ask you about today."
"Yeah?" Harry unglued his eyes from
the spot on the table he had been staring at thoughtfully.
"Well, as you know, at Hogwarts, we've run
through so many Defense Aganist the Dark Arts teachers ever since You-Know-Who
surfaced in our first year...remember? Well, we need yet another
one, and I know that you play Quidditch for England and everything, but
I was wondering -" But Harry's mind knew what she was going to say,
and was in a whirl.
Do I really have time?
Of course you do. Take the job, take the job, you can't be on the Quidditch team forever...take the job...
No, I don't think I can. I really don't have time. Even though she is my best friend, I don't think I can take it just now. Maybe some other time.
TAKE IT.
"Sure, Hermione. I'll take the job.
I'd be happy to." Hermione grinned and looked as though a huge amount
of stress was lifted form her shoulders. But, she frowned when she
saw the strained grin on Harry's face.
"You know, Harry, if you're worried about
getting involved with You-Know-Who like the other teachers, don't worry.
Remember our seventh year? Well he hasn't been seen since then.
But if you just don't have time -"
"No, Herms, it's okay. I can do it."
Good
* * * * *
The six friends had gotten stone drunk, so
they decided to go home and sleep it off. Luckily, Hary and Draco
managed to apparate where they meant to, and not miles off course.
Although Harry's mind was clouded with alcohol, he could just imagine what
Hermione would do the next day, realizing she had gotten her first hangover.
The headmistress of Hogwarts couldn't exactly go get drunk...it was fortunate
for her that it was summer break.
Harry collapsed onto his bed and let out a
loud groan. "Uggghhhhh...I wanna sleep...hey! You...yeah you!
You got a mirror in your pocket? Cause I see myself in your pants,"
mumbled Harry, his speech slurred and a crazy grin on his face.
"Yeah you know it...but not now, man.
I can' see straight...gotta sleep. Wouldn't want ta fall asleep on
you, mate." Draco's speech was also lethargic and slow as he rolled
into bed.
"Riiight, Drake. I was just kiddin.
I'm not up for that either...g' night..." With that he fell asleep,
fully clothed and on top of the sheets. He might've been drunk, but
he still had vivid nightmares as he slept. All night he tossed and
turned, usually Draco was there to hold him and kiss away his tears, but
not that night. Draco was close to being knocked out and didn't even
notice when Harry repeatedly kicked him.
Please not Harry! Take me...take me...not Harry! No!
Silly girl, give me the boy and you don't have to watch him die...I'll kill you first. Resist, and I'll force you to kill him yourself.
Hear that? Don't end up like her. Do you want to hear that everynight for the rest of your life? Do you? No? Then Do it! Don't resist...
A throbbing headache behind his eyes woke Harry
the next morning. He glanced over, and saw that Draco was still sleeping,
his head buried into the pillow. Harry touched his own face, and
felt the still wet tears on his cheeks. He was shaky from his dreams,
and couldn't bear hearing the faint echoes of his dying mother in his ears.
It wasl like his whole body was on a sadness overload, and had to be let
out. He rubbed his temples in a futile attempt to feel better, but
the hangover had magnified the nightmares...the screams.
The black haired man stumbled to the bathroom,
and looked at his face in the mirror. His hair, so stunning the night
before, was tangled and looked like a dead rat on his head. Gray
bags were layered under his eyes, and his bloodshot eyes still dripped
from the nightmares. The veins stood out brightly on his pale, transparent
skin and he was shaking with anger towards his mother's murderer.
Somehow, someway, the depression had to be
bled form his body. Harry didn't think he could stand it for any
longer, it was like poison slowly draining away his life. He clumsily
searched for a razor blade in his drawer, and found the one he used for
shaving. It was an old fashioned straight edge. Perfect.
Do it. Do it or you'll be sad forever. Bleed out the poison...
Slowly, deliberately, he drew the blade across
his forearm. A perfectly straight line of blood blossomed from
his elbow to the middle knuckle on the back of his hand. He didn't
even worry about how he could keep it hidden as he watched the blood ooze
from the fresh cut like so many crimson tears and run down the creamy skin
of his arm. Harry had never purposely cut himself before, and was
surprised that he hadn't thought of it yet. It was like draining
out the fear from those awful nightmares. A combination of this and
Draco's comforting arms could cure anything. Right? Of course.
Harry came back to earth from the high of
cutting himself, and washed the blood away under the faucet. He watched
as the red liquid turn pink as it diluted under the crystal water.
Sharp knives pricked at his arm, and the sting didn't go away for several
minutes. He squeezed the flowing blood from it, then took his wand,
pointed his it at his arm, and muttered, "Reparos." The skin drew
together, leaving a thin, pale red scar where the cut once was. Harry
was reminded strongly of the scar on his forehead. He fumbled around
in the medicine cabinet until he found a bottle of sleeping potion.
It said on the label that it could also be used to help headaches.
Harry didn't bother to look at the dosage, but drank a large gulp and barely
managed to stumble into bed on heavy legs before falling alsleep again.