I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER!
~XxX~
I feel straining madness like a cancer creeping upon my mind. Despite this, I remain, -on the outside of my internal struggles and diminishing hope-, a generally cheerful person. Despite this, I remain masked to all others. And despite this, I still act as though the world is bathed in the innocence and ignorance of all things dark and unwholesome, of the dark side everybody possesses.
Ironically, I am the Savior, the poster-boy for the light. Oh, how deliciously funny I find it to be. That is, for the 'Light' to condemn the 'Dark'. The 'Light' is detached from actual feelings and care for others, wrapped in their own indignation, while the 'Dark' are in just for the torture of others, for greed and pompous bloodlines that mean virtually nothing. True Dark and Light exist in harmony. Balance and all that rot. And yet here we are, because of 'moral standards' set by the doppelganger-Light and snobbish copy-cat Dark.
And both sides have the same meaning. Win at all costs. But they don't remember that war is not about who is right; it's about who's left. Survival of the fittest. And so is the truth of this strained, narcissistic Magical Community. But what are we surviving? I wouldn't know. I don't particularly care either. Do you? Not exactly, no. That's what I thought. Hm. I seem to be communicating with myself. That can't be good at all, can it?
"Harry!", damn. Don't they know how to take a hint? Please. If they did, they would've stop bothering us long ago. Do you think? Have I been sending out those messages all along? No matter now though, is it? Ah, so many questions, so little answers. A scandalized gasp from the bossy one briefly caught my ever-elusive attention. "Harry! Smoking is bad!"…Am I smoking? Yes. We are. Oh. Oh well. "What were you thinking, Harry?", she's getting awfully close. She better not-take our ciggy!
Yet before she could pluck it from my mouth, we are interrupted. A Dementor came up at the Astronomy Tower just behind me. I turned from her to it. "Hello, fright-bug.", I greeted. That, along with numerous other nicknames, have been bestowed upon the creatures with whom I so enjoy indulging in conversations with. The little twat behind me screamed as she began to run as the Dementor began to feed off the sunken misery I was in. They don't feed off of happiness. That's stupid; they don't like the taste of sunshine, thank you very much. What they do is suppress your positive emotions and draw off your negative ones. During this. You have to relive your worst memories in order to get the best feeding out of you. It's all terribly morbid if we think about it, isn't it? Well of course, by normal standards. However, that doesn't apply to me. Oh, fuck, I can imagine Snape's scathing remark to that sentence. 'Oh, of course you are above such infantile rules, aren't you Potter?', he'd snarl. Or something like that. We seem to be hearing his voice a lot, don't we? I believe he's my conscience. Or logic. Anyways, the girl can't be allowed to live. She's seen too much. "Would you like her soul? If you can catch her and keep her quiet, you can have it.", the Dementor looks past me to the girl, then zipped by as it went and caught her by her shoulders, and I didn't have to turn around to see that it wrenched her around to face it as its' suctioning, lipless hole of a mouth got closer and closer. As soon as I heard the heavy thud on the ground, I turned-to pick her up and deposit her over and down Astronomy Tower. Goodbye, Granger. Yes, yes. Farewell.
And I watched as her prone body flew down, and heard people shriek in terror at seeing her. But nobody would see us up here. No, their attention is on her. Well, time to leave. I wonder what Ron will say? She was suicidal, and moody and depressed, that she had been probably planning it because she was jealous that we have all the fame and that he's our bestfriend instead of her. …Hm. Probably.
)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(
~Next Day: Great Hall; Breakfast~
The students mourned the suicide of Hermione Granger at the request of the Headmaster. And, they got a week off for the most upsetting tragedy. No more Golden Trio. Harry and Ron were both, of course, despaired and inconsolable, and Ron often took Harry from others so they could go and nap away the oh-so aching pain of losing their friend away. Really it was just Ron being possessive over him, silently gloating that he was now the sole 'owner' of Harry. His only bestfriend without others getting so close all the time and having all the adventures. Ron simply relished in that power. And Harry, being the 'sweet', 'fragile' and slim boy he was, allowed Ron to pull his long arm around his own tiny waist to drag him off once more to their dorms. As they lay there, Ron curled around him as he himself was in fetal position, the taller ginger spoke. "Hey Harry…You know you're my bestfriend right?", he murmured into Harry's rather hypersensitive ear as he was about to fall into light sleep. He blinked tiredly.
"Of course Ron. And you're mine.", he answered groggily. The redhead tightened his arms about his hips in response, but remained silent as he buried his face into a graceful, pale neck.
"You don't…You don't believe what they said about me and Hermione right?", he stuttered, "That we were…We were…"
"No Ron, you would've told me if you were dating.", Harry cooed back, trying to placate the boy as any Gryffindor-Golden-Boy would do. Ron sighed into his shoulder. Then shivered.
"I'm cold."
"We're under all the blankets we have.", the smaller one pointed out. "What else is there to do?"
"We could always…Well, what about the whole, 'body-heat' thing?", he asked nervously. Harry paused, but did not stiffen in response, so Ron didn't take that as rejection. "Like…Only our shirts? I'm uh, not used to sleeping with a shirt on before now.", he said, referring to their nap-times. Harry shrugged against him, squirming to sit up before his hands went for the edge of his shirt. Ron watched, propped up on his elbow as he lifted the shirt from his lithe torso and flat stomach. His nipples were quickly pert in the frigid air, and they were soft rose-pink and adorable. As soon as the baggy shirt was lifted over his head, Harry turned to Ron in expectation. The redhead quickly stripped his broadening chest of the hand-me-down shirt. His own chest was freckled heavily, his stomach already morphing to show abs in the making and his nipples were more a peach than pink. Laying back down, he tugged Harry down once more, engulfing them in four thick red blankets from each of their beds. "You're tiny.", he pointed out as he once more pulled him to his chest. It was silent for a time. "Harry?", he heard the whisper.
"Ron?", he answered in kind.
"Well…Have you ever-I mean…Liked a boy?", he sounded uncertain and nervous.
"It doesn't matter in the Wizarding World if you're gay. Why are you worried?", he asked, turning in his arms to face him. Or, rather, face his chest and crane his neck to look up at his taller friend. Ron stared down at his face for a minute. "But yes. I've liked three boys so far."
"W-who?", the redhead stuttered.
"Well,", Harry hummed, "I suppose the latest crush would be on Terry Boot. You know, from Ravenclaw? Then there's also Dean,", the arms tightened again. "And…And the last one is in bed with me…", he added shyly for Ron's benefit. While he did hold certain feelings for Dean, he did not hold them for Terry nor Ron. Looking up, he saw Ron's ecstatic face before lips crashed down hard onto his. Moaning softly at the lips that massaged his own, he waited until a tongue cautiously peeked out to hesitantly touch his lips and opened his mouth for it, touching it gently to encourage Ron. Even as they proceeded to kiss heatedly, Harry was plotting this boy's end. How? Suicide over Granger? No no, that won't do. Poisoned? Yes. They'll be able to find it, of course, but then—Basilisk venom is expensive, and who would think that poor little Harry did it?
Hell, they'll probably think someone did it so that Harry would be friendless and vulnerable. That's how they'll rationalize it. And then Harry can have Dean. Because he'll get all his boys at some point or another. With or without force. He smirked as Ron left his mouth to kiss and lavish attention on his neck, hands spreading to feel his lithe body. For a thirteen year old, Harry was surprised that Ron was so…Forward, and without stumble.
(~~~)
~Three Days Later: Court; Free Period~
"Fuck off,", he said to the Dementor, who hissed at him in an annoyed fashion. They were following him around now, and Ron had scampered off to get a teacher, worried about his poor little lover(a sneer curled his lips). He was surrounded by the buggers as he made his way outside. They followed obediently, scaring away at least a dozen other kids. "What do you want?", he finally sighed as he sat at the edge of the Black Lake.
"We wish merely to stay near you, small dark one.", one of them answered, reaching out a skeletal hand to brush against his arm affectionately. He hummed, leaning back as he sat and feeling one of the Dementors kneel behind him to hug him from behind. He leaned back further into the freezing comfort. "There are few who do not mind our presence and most of those that do tolerate us are long gone.", bone-like fingers carded through his hair soothingly. His eyes slid shut, his thick black lashes fanning gently on his cheek. A hooded face nuzzled against him, and he brought back his hand to caress the scaled skull like face under the hood. It very well near purred.
"Harry!", they heard the shout and they hissed loudly in displeasure as the Dementor picked him up, holding him under his knees and his back and darting upwards with the others. "Harry!", he kept his eyes closed as they took him up to Astronomy Tower to hide out…Sort of.
"They get so bothersome. I'm never left alone, even when I tell them to stop pestering me. Idiots.", he mumbled to them, snuggling down into the Dementor.
(~~~)
~Two weeks Later: DADA room; 3rd Period~
"We're going to be using a Boggart in today's class,", Remus Lupin warned, "And I've taught you the counter-curse, right?", a drone of 'yes, professor' was soon said. "Alright. Now form a line everybody, yes, right up here.", he directed them, "The Boggart will be coming out of that wardrobe, alright?"
The first was Neville Longbottom. And surprise, surprise, his Boggart changed into Snape. Severus Snape happened to be in the room, as asked by the Headmaster, to watch over the proceedings. Neville trembled as Boggart-Snape strode up the walkway. "R-riddikulus!", he was suddenly dressed in Augusta Longbottom's dress and vulture-hat. Quite a few snickers and giggles followed that, and Harry merely raised a slim eyebrow. And so the line moved.
Ron's spider fear soon manifested itself after Professor Lupin put on some old record that had a relatively cheery bounce to it. Ron gave it skates. The next fear was of a gigantic King Cobra, and she sullied it by turning it into a giant Jack-in-the-box. Then it was Harry's turn. The thing clawed back and forth looking like it was grabbing at him for a moment before it abruptly changed. Except…
It didn't stop. Harry tilted his head just a bit, wondering what that meant. It took another three minutes that the class was utterly silent for, for it to finally pick a form. His parents.
He took an involuntary step back, eyes widening as they settled on them.
"Harry,", his mother's lips did not move, but she kept that warm smile on her face, "Won't you come join us? You'd like it here, my angel. You'd like it here with us.", then it changed again, into the Basilisk as it dropped dead with an anguished screech, thumping and flailing slightly before it lay still. It changed yet again, this time into his Aunt Petunia, who merely stared at him in unadulterated hatred and disgust. Uncle Vernon, face purple and growling out 'freak'. He was calm for his two relatives, and now merely waited with his head cocked, amused.
"Are you…", he began and the mirth in his voice was very easily detected. "Are you trying to find out my fear?", he asked the Creature, who turned into his Aunt again and screeched at him.
"Why won't you fear me?", as it said this, it switched between bodies, ending in Voldemort, who stared at him with crazed red eyes. Again, Harry merely stood there with a half-smile quirking his lips. It screamed again before diving back into the wardrobe. Then the door to the wardrobe got smashed off. This next person had pure white skin, was small (probably only four or five), large clothes and shaggy black hair that hung in his face. Blood and grime covered him, before it turned into something else. It covered the room in suffocating darkness and a closed-in feeling. Harry's laughter rang out, getting another frustrated scream from the Boggart. It twisted again, trying to find the most terrifying form. Harry stepped closer to it, closer, closer, and closer still until he could touch it. A beam of pale green shot at him and he easily dodged it, then as it came back for him chasing him like a target-torpedo, he smiled a bit wider, dodging and ducking, leaping over and twisting to avoid touching it. He danced about the room with it, amid the horrified students until the Boggart changed again. Harry shoved forward another person in front of the changing thing and watched it focus on this person as he left for the back of the line. Ignoring the others.
(~~~)
~Four Days Later: Hospital Wing; Noon~
"Harry my boy,", the elderly man said grimly, "I'm afraid that…That Ron is gone.", a teary face looked up at him, red rimming vibrant green eyes. Harry choked, breaking down to sob into Ron's cold, unmoving chest as his hand tightened on the larger slack one in his grip.
"Oh god…They're both gone…Ron…'Mione…", he said in a strangled, pained whisper. Madam Pomfrey patted his head consolingly, trying not to show her wet eyes. "Why?"
(~~~)
~Many Hours Later: Gryffindor Common Room; 2:31 a.m.~
"Harry?", came a soft question. He looked up from his knees and hid a smile at seeing Dean looking worried. Harry always was a good liar. "Are you smoking?", came the next question. He looked at the ciggy in his hand, the other voice in his head cackling at Dean's gullibility. Harry nodded meekly, feeling the black boy sit next to him carefully and bring him into a hug. "I'm sorry,", he whispered into his hair. Harry took in a shuddering breath and kept his voice low and trembling.
"S' not your fault Dean…You're not the one who…Who poisoned 'im. Or…Or egged her to fall…", he let out a small sob. The dark arms tightened around him. He shakily brought up the thin smoking stick, taking a deep drag on it. He offered it to Dean, who buried his face in Harry's hair and shook his head. "I never…Never thought that…They'd, they'd…"
"Shh, Harry, shh…", Harry, in his best child-voice, then asked,
"Dean? You won't leave too, will you?"
"…No, Harry. I won't leave.", Harry banished his ciggy and turned to fully embrace the larger boy, burying his face into Dean's shoulder. Dean wrapped his arms around the tiny waist, pulling him up with him. Harry clung with his legs wrapped around Dean's hips and his arms around his neck. When Dean tried to place him in his bed, he whined pitifully and clung closer.
"Don't go, please please don't go,", he looked up with large eyes and the black boy caved immediately, curling into bed with him. Harry clutched at him, snuggling into his arms as he shivered continuously. He eventually allowed his breath to go slow and deep, feigning sleep and sighed softly into the dark teen's neck, and Harry felt him swallow. Ah-ha. So he does harbor feelings. That would make this so much easier. He made a small sound, nuzzling in closer and he felt arms tighten around him immediately as he began to feel something stiff against his stomach. So he took it a step further, swinging one leg up over his hip, moving closer. He heard Dean's breath begin to come a bit harsher as he hardened further, staying perfectly still and trying not to move. He was irritated by this, naturally, and gave a small moan of his own, thrusting his hips against the larger teen's. Dean's body felt like it was practically convulsing against his, making his own arousal press against the thicker, longer one that stuttered out against him. Going even further… "Dean, please…", he let out a quiet keen. Harsh lips smashed against his own as hands gripped his hips bruisingly tight.
He smirked to himself as they lowered to his neck with an animalistic fervor. One boy down. Three to go.
~XxX~
I'm supposed to be doing my Professor Haze story, but I haven't had much time, and I was looking through my older files recently and found this little beauty. Should I continue it?