Wall Confessionary
xxxYGOxHarryPotter Crossover Yaoi xx
MarikxHarry: Post OotP
The inspiration for this you ask? Daniel Muhfuckin' Powter song… "You Had a Bad Day"
xxI DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR YUGIOH, THIS IS NONPROFITxxx
His hair was black and grew out, hanging low like Sirius's had, his skin was pale from staying indoors so much -Harry Potter didn't look...healthy.
But he didn't care how he looked too much, he knew he wasn't the hottest thing to walk the Earth, and had little sense of teenage vanity. Vanity required pride and pride required confidence, something Harry greatly lacked.
"When will you be back boy?" asked Vernon at the Dursley's kitchen table, fruitlessly trying to make conversation with his most-loathed, ever since the threat from Mad-Eye the Dursleys were going above and beyond trying to treat Harry better without showing any real compassion. Harry noticed their faker then fake smiles, and decided from the start of the holidays he had to get away from it.
"When I feel like it," snapped Harry, with an all-new rebellious nature that had made itself known as he hit sixteen post Sirius's death.
As Harry left the room with a bag of spray-paint strapped over his shoulder, he was sure he could hear Vernon's teeth grinding and would bet his bottom dollar that without the Order's protection, Vernon probably would have spat on him for his sass. The Dursley's though, even gave Harry some of Dudley's nice old things, like his MP3 player which was stuck in his jean's pocket with earbuds up to his ears and the wire diagonally across his chest to the pocket.
"Let's see…six o'clock, Mundungus's guard-shift," murmured Harry to himself as he slipped on his outdoor sneakers.
Dully he noted Petunia mutter "I hope the new neighbours didn't see him come out of our house,"
Harry Potter felt much like a disposable, miserable teen.
"What're you doing out?" snapped Big D, or rather, Dudley who was surrounded by his friends as Harry cut through the park.
Harry said nothing as usual, with that, he left the silent gang to stare after him.
"-Dud, wasn't that your MP3 player?" asked Gordon after a moment of silence when the freak left.
His jeans were old, barely passing off for acid-washed; they were torn at the knee and everywhere else, his shirt originally had reached the knees so he tore it and it now showed small amounts of stomach mid-riff. His left earlobe itched like hell, on one of Bill's guard-shifts a few days ago, he saw Harry's unintentional-alternative look and took him for a piercing.
Oh how the now itchy-eared Potter regretted it.
Harry stared out at the park walls, which had a large frame nailed into it, like an empty portrait. He didn't think himself an artist –hell his writing was like chicken scrawl (his teachers would agree), but over time, doodles became better and from doodles came pictures…
Now Harry Potter was in this position.
The community of Surrey started youth programs to occupy people like Big D and his gang, and cut down on kid-crime, and one of the programs was a self expression one. The local council pooled together money for a public graffiti wall in the park, and Harry found himself using it, if only to kill boredom and keep a thread of sanity.
Behind small rectangular frames, strands of black hair fell over his green eyes which shone with sadness as he prepared to attack the graffiti wall.
In the park, on the swings, the new neighbours positioned themselves and stared off at the lone boy staring blankly at the wall.
"Who's that?" asked Odion curiously. Marik didn't like not knowing things, so he frowned at his older brother.
"I don't know but I'm finding out," he would ask someone later, he decided.
Harry glared at the childish words all over the wall.
"Baz Wuz Here!!!!!"
"Jase Luvs Charlene"
"FEDERLINEZ GAY"
"Fag"
-and a string of pointless curse words.
A touch of discreet magic later, the wall was blank, and Harry set his bag down with a clatter, it was filled with five or six extra large spray cans courtesy of Dudley Dursley's stash.
He was rather angry that morning, Voldemort's lovely nightmares weren't fun and the image of a muggleborn with his head split open was fresh in his mind.
Harry sighed. He didn't really want other people to see that, but he did have a bad morning, and the rather downbeat music on Dudley's MP3 player wasn't helping. Harry's friends hadn't contacted him, Sirius had died and worst of all it was his own fault…plus his ear still itched.
He felt crap and he wanted the world to know, so he began to spray on the walls.
Marik got up off the swing and slowly walked over, with Odion trailing behind.
Out of the corner of his eye, in blurry peripheral vision out of glasses frame shot, Harry saw a gold-laden teen slowly approaching with a scarier guy behind him.
"Fat chance trying to talk to him," snorted Dudley, as the new neighbours passed them, obviously walking toward his freak cousin.
"The Freak acts pretty much mute," snorted Gordon, picking up a rock and throwing it at Harry's back. Marik scowled at him, but turned to see Harry had paused.
Harry didn't move for a moment, he turned up the music in his ears, and carried on after an exhale of breath showing tightly controlled anger.
"See?" snorted Gordon.
"There's a lesson New-Meat, the Silent Bob doesn't talk much, he's such a freak you should stay away from him," said Piers.
The Ishtars took an immediate dislike to the gang.
"Here's your second lesson, since you're new and everything, don't get caught on the north side of here, or Big D and I will 'ave to bust you up," smirked Gordon. Before Odion could interject and put the teens in their place they heard a noise.
They heard laughing. From Harry who still had his back turned, who found Dudley's "turf-wars" rather amusing.
Slowly, Harry turned around with his black spray can and one earbud out so he caught the conversation.
"Freak what're laughing a—oh…shit," said Dudley with slow dawning realization as Harry swaggered over slowly with spray paint canisters aimed like guns.
"Run!"
Too late.
Harry sprayed it into their eyes, mouths and all over their clothes. Piers choked, Dudley and Gordon stumbled around blindly while screaming
"AH! I'm blind! BLIND!"
Harry chuckled, and turned back to the wall, the others left except for Marik and Odion Ishtar.
"What if you hurt them permanently?" asked Odion, the boy shrugged and went back to painting.
"What's your name anyway?" asked Marik, wondering if the guy was mute or just quiet.
Silence.
"Harry Potter," grunted the teen, who quickly returned back to his silent-bob nature.
The two left to go back and help Isis unpack, but a few hours later they returned.
-The Park-
The two Ishtars stared as the picture began to come together on the graffiti wall, they could tell what it was, and to Harry's credit it was depressingly realistic.
It was of a man, with sallow cheeks, in a prison garb on a train with a sad hooded boy sat on the train waiting bench, watching the prisoner get carried away to a curtained archway-tunnel of bright white.
The chained faceless teen was in agony, the prisoner had an expression of shock.
The same expression Sirius Black had when he fell back into the veil.
The faceless teen, expressionless as he had no true face to begin with. Harry did this because he couldn't simulate what he felt as he watched himself lose Sirius –that moment, that feeling, was un-recreatable.
It was raining in the train station on the picture, to make up for the tears he couldn't show on the faceless teen on the bench. Rain poured on the faceless one in the picture. Lots and lots of rain...
Harry hadn't cried when Sirius died either.
Marik watched a canister of grey paint fall out of his bag as he strapped it on and prepared to leave. Odion watched his little brother give a burning stare at Harry even as he'd turned around and walked away.
"Wow, he's been here hours," muttered Odion, staring at the bizarre yet detailed artwork.
"It's boring without duelling here," grumbled Marik eventually, turning back to the graffiti wall's depressing picture.
A moment of silence.
"Brother?" asked Odion cautiously as Marik bent down and grabbed the canister into his hand. Sucking in a breath, he walked up to the wall and doodled out an umbrella in the faceless teen's hand.
"Well, now it's slightly less depressing," shrugged Marik, setting the canister to the floor and walking back home with Odion –who had his eyebrow raised at his brother's behaviour.
-Next Day-
Harry went back to see if his canister was spared when he noticed one was missing. If a kid hadn't taken it, it'd still be there.
There on the ground was the grey canister, Harry picked it up and dropped it into his well-worn shoulder bag with the other spray cans.
Slowly he raised an eyebrow; someone had drawn an umbrella in the hands of the faceless teen, a caricature of himself though he'd never admit it out-loud.
An umbrella to shield from a rain of tears…even as you lose someone precious on the soul train to hell?
It changed the meaning of the picture.
Harry tilted his head curiously, and then turned around to see an Egyptian –one of his neighbours smirking at him from the swing set.
He did it.
Too shy to approach him, Harry turned slightly red and ran out of the park.
Marik sighed; he still hadn't managed to get a conversation out of "silent bob".
-Later: Ishtar Home-
"I'm glad you found a way to amuse yourself that doesn't involve killing something," said Isis dryly that afternoon.
"You've been at this a while," said Odion at the breakfast table.
"Well, he hasn't talked," replied Marik, Harry was an enigma wrapped in a puzzle, a Millennium Rod uncontrollable…a thing.
"There's nothing in this town to keep me entertained," said Marik trying to justify himself to his sister.
"Right, right," muttered Isis, a headache developing.
So that's how it went, in different places or on the graffiti wall, Harry would do some type of subtly depressing picture and the next day, he'd come back and see a slight alteration –making it a little…happier.
It was starting to get under his skin.
Also, the only letters he was getting were from Ginny Weasley who was starting to scare him somewhat with her blatant come-ons in the mail.
The idea of going out with Ginny made him vomit a little in his throat; it'd be like kissing a Ron with boobs, longer hair and a vagina.
The other Weasley's were had defined features, but those two were too similar and Ginny was just straight-up off-putting.
Harry decided love sucked as much as death did.
-Next Day-
This time, Marik was waiting for him at a now whited-out graffiti wall with his own set of spray cans.
"Are you ever going to talk?"
"Why do you keep altering my work?" Harry asked as he brushed hair out of his eyes, Marik blinked in shock –sexy silent bob was talking!
"It's a bit too bleak," said the Egyptian, who truthfully, didn't know why he bothered, but seen as though there was no duelling in Surrey…
This was a new game.
"It's because I don't exactly feel all sunshine and farts," spat back Harry, with a scowl.
"You're not a morning person are you?" asked Marik with a crooked smile.
"Damn straight,"
Harry was quiet as Marik gave him a stare down, he was blushing, and Harry knew how badly his social skills had become from isolation.
Harry began to heat up slightly as Marik got into his personal space, reaching into his shoulder bag, drawing out a red canister to match Harry's pink one.
"What're doing for today?" asked Marik, referring to the graffiti wall's blank state.
"A little something I like to call 'Love Sucks'," and he began to fill in a lone man, carrying a grey balloon, among blank-faced couples wearing bright garments.
The Egyptian was cute…no –handsome, extremely so, and Harry didn't like small crowds or watchers as it made him feel pressured but something felt…different.
His palms were sweaty, he was nervous and toes felt sort of tingly, distracting him from his ever-sore piercing.
"How do you plan to deface my work today?" asked Harry with trace amount of amusement.
"Deface? I'm trying to cheer it up, I might not be artsy but I can tell a depressing picture and a depressed artist when I see one," said Marik coolly, and suddenly, a canister dropped from Harry's hand.
The teen was turning red and not looking at the wall or Marik.
"…Harry?"
"You called me a… 'Artist',"
He was easy to flatter.
Marik smirked and knelt down, picked up the pink canister and handed it back to the Potter.
Harry accepted it but turned still as Marik Ishtar's eyes shone deviously. From under the lone man's feet he began to spray a red line, stretching around widely and narrowing near the head.
Harry almost laughed when he realized immediately what it was. From his end, he did a symmetrical line as Marik traced over his old one, and bumping spray cans met in the middle.
It was a huge, childish, heart.
A heart-shape drawn over the lone man…
Harry couldn't help it. He laughed.
It was just so…silly.
Marik grinned and they both turned to face each other.
"How does lunch at mine sound?" asked the bold Egyptian, Harry blushed deeply and dropped his shoulder bag and empty canisters with a clutter –he was done painting.
"Lead the way mate,"
Two spray-paint smeared hands clasped into each other as they walked out of the park.
Maybe having someone to hold an umbrella over your head as it rains wasn't so bad…
xxxEndxxx