Becoming the Darkness
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. Really, i'm not. None of these characters are mine (sadly) i am merely borrowing them so i can twist them a little and they will be returned in full working order, if a little depressed.
Summery: Strange little examination of Harry's feelings after GoF. Contains spoilers from said book.
A/N: This came on to me one night and i had to write it down. I don't even know what the hell it's trying to say, but i like anyways. There is a bit of slash subtext so if you really have a problem with that Disapparate...NOW! Also, if anyone reading this has read 'The Prophecy' and is wondering when i plan to finish it - i really don't know. Before the end of next year hopefully but don't put money on it...see, this is what Real Life does to you! And please R/R! *pleading look*.
Rating: PG-13, contains details of self-harm and the 'f' word. Nothing that really warranted an R rating.
I think it started not long after I got back to my so-called *home* after fourth year. The memories of that horrible time...of poor Cedric, slaughtered because of me...all because of me, so many things...rose unbidden within my sleep and caused me to wake with a cold sweat and a horrified expression upon my countenance (for I did not scream lest I wake the Dursleys). Voldemort was constantly in my thoughts, forever plaguing my mind...always, the cause of so much pain.
These thoughts, I knew they were twisting me, changing me. I felt, and when I told my friends and godfather they dismissed it as lunacy, that so much of what had happened, what would happen, that had been done and would be done in Voldemort's name, was my fault.
Is it crazy? Yes and no. Cedric would never have gone if I hadn't told him to take the Triwizard Cup with me...all my fault. I hated myself beyond all reason, more than you could imagine, more than the Dursleys ever had and that's saying something is it not? You cannot conceive something that could cut so deep...although, I tried when I placed the lovely sharp dagger Sirius had sent to me as a present hard onto my skin and watching the beautiful crimson liquid spill from the cut and flow in a tiny river onto the bed sheets or the floor. Poor Sirius, he had no clue what terrible use, borne from the deepest of self-loathing, I would put his present too.
Self-harm was no help though after a while, in fact it made me feel worse eventually. I was beginning to suspect I was no longer sane...I was probably right in that assumption.
I still went back to Hogwarts, still tried to act normal, but my dear friends, the only positive things in my life, knew something was wrong. I tried to explain but they didn't understand, but oh, they did try. To their, Ron and Hermione's, credit they did try and although I didn't show it, I appreciated their efforts.
But nothing helped and I started to become filled with darkness, not a tangible darkness and certainly not an evil darkness, it was a darkness bred from my self loathing and would lead to my destruction, metaphorical or no. It enveloped me inch by inch and I was aware of it the whole time, but I did nothing to prevent it...I guess, I must not have wanted to.
I never thought it would lead me to him though. Or that he would ever make such an offer, or indeed care at all that there was anything wrong with me.
He approached whilst I was in the owlry with Hedwig. It was late at night and I had just sent my owl out to Sirius...containing more lies...said I was happy...and then I heard someone laughing, and how could I mistake that laugh? I'd heard more times than I had cared to in my lifetime.
I turned and there he was, silver blond hair dappled prettily in the moonlight, shadows slashing across his face like the bars of a large cage...it was the first time I realised that he wasn't so rat-faced anymore...who'd have thought he could become half-way attractive? All the way in fact...I asked him what he wanted, he told me to mind my own business, I went to leave but he blocked my path.
I became rather angry, told him to leave or else...took out my wand just to punctuate the severity of my threat. He laughed and asked where the dagger was...how had he known?
"Oh, come on Potter, your friends might be utterly blind and stupid, but I'm not. It's obvious what you've been doing. Stress of the war finally getting to you, or have you finally realised you have picked the losing side...like I always told you?"
"I'll pick whatever side I like Malfoy!" I spat.
He quirked his eyebrows at this.
"Really?" He smirked. He stepped closer, I stepped back.
"Leave me alone!"
"No. You don't want me to. Not really. See, I know what's happening to you Harry Potter...about the darkness, the hatred...how you feel nobody understands...and nobody really does, save for myself."
I didn't believe what I was hearing; rich spoilt Malfoy out of every living person on the planet, magic or Muggle, knowing what I was going through? Hah! What I thought must have been written plainly on my face because he snarled, "You don't believe me?"
"Of course I don't! What the fuck would you know about my problems?
He merely stared at me; I read something in his eyes, those slate grey eyes...some kind of truth without really knowing what it was, only that it told me he was not lying. Not at all, he did know. That he'd struggled with the want to do either bad or good (bad I suspect) but decided eventually not to give a damn about either and to exist in a domain of his own darkness, all targeted at hating and despising every moment he existed.
I reached out to him, embraced him and heard him hiss softly into my ear, "Welcome to the darkness Potter."
By then, I no longer cared.
The End.
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. Really, i'm not. None of these characters are mine (sadly) i am merely borrowing them so i can twist them a little and they will be returned in full working order, if a little depressed.
Summery: Strange little examination of Harry's feelings after GoF. Contains spoilers from said book.
A/N: This came on to me one night and i had to write it down. I don't even know what the hell it's trying to say, but i like anyways. There is a bit of slash subtext so if you really have a problem with that Disapparate...NOW! Also, if anyone reading this has read 'The Prophecy' and is wondering when i plan to finish it - i really don't know. Before the end of next year hopefully but don't put money on it...see, this is what Real Life does to you! And please R/R! *pleading look*.
Rating: PG-13, contains details of self-harm and the 'f' word. Nothing that really warranted an R rating.
I think it started not long after I got back to my so-called *home* after fourth year. The memories of that horrible time...of poor Cedric, slaughtered because of me...all because of me, so many things...rose unbidden within my sleep and caused me to wake with a cold sweat and a horrified expression upon my countenance (for I did not scream lest I wake the Dursleys). Voldemort was constantly in my thoughts, forever plaguing my mind...always, the cause of so much pain.
These thoughts, I knew they were twisting me, changing me. I felt, and when I told my friends and godfather they dismissed it as lunacy, that so much of what had happened, what would happen, that had been done and would be done in Voldemort's name, was my fault.
Is it crazy? Yes and no. Cedric would never have gone if I hadn't told him to take the Triwizard Cup with me...all my fault. I hated myself beyond all reason, more than you could imagine, more than the Dursleys ever had and that's saying something is it not? You cannot conceive something that could cut so deep...although, I tried when I placed the lovely sharp dagger Sirius had sent to me as a present hard onto my skin and watching the beautiful crimson liquid spill from the cut and flow in a tiny river onto the bed sheets or the floor. Poor Sirius, he had no clue what terrible use, borne from the deepest of self-loathing, I would put his present too.
Self-harm was no help though after a while, in fact it made me feel worse eventually. I was beginning to suspect I was no longer sane...I was probably right in that assumption.
I still went back to Hogwarts, still tried to act normal, but my dear friends, the only positive things in my life, knew something was wrong. I tried to explain but they didn't understand, but oh, they did try. To their, Ron and Hermione's, credit they did try and although I didn't show it, I appreciated their efforts.
But nothing helped and I started to become filled with darkness, not a tangible darkness and certainly not an evil darkness, it was a darkness bred from my self loathing and would lead to my destruction, metaphorical or no. It enveloped me inch by inch and I was aware of it the whole time, but I did nothing to prevent it...I guess, I must not have wanted to.
I never thought it would lead me to him though. Or that he would ever make such an offer, or indeed care at all that there was anything wrong with me.
He approached whilst I was in the owlry with Hedwig. It was late at night and I had just sent my owl out to Sirius...containing more lies...said I was happy...and then I heard someone laughing, and how could I mistake that laugh? I'd heard more times than I had cared to in my lifetime.
I turned and there he was, silver blond hair dappled prettily in the moonlight, shadows slashing across his face like the bars of a large cage...it was the first time I realised that he wasn't so rat-faced anymore...who'd have thought he could become half-way attractive? All the way in fact...I asked him what he wanted, he told me to mind my own business, I went to leave but he blocked my path.
I became rather angry, told him to leave or else...took out my wand just to punctuate the severity of my threat. He laughed and asked where the dagger was...how had he known?
"Oh, come on Potter, your friends might be utterly blind and stupid, but I'm not. It's obvious what you've been doing. Stress of the war finally getting to you, or have you finally realised you have picked the losing side...like I always told you?"
"I'll pick whatever side I like Malfoy!" I spat.
He quirked his eyebrows at this.
"Really?" He smirked. He stepped closer, I stepped back.
"Leave me alone!"
"No. You don't want me to. Not really. See, I know what's happening to you Harry Potter...about the darkness, the hatred...how you feel nobody understands...and nobody really does, save for myself."
I didn't believe what I was hearing; rich spoilt Malfoy out of every living person on the planet, magic or Muggle, knowing what I was going through? Hah! What I thought must have been written plainly on my face because he snarled, "You don't believe me?"
"Of course I don't! What the fuck would you know about my problems?
He merely stared at me; I read something in his eyes, those slate grey eyes...some kind of truth without really knowing what it was, only that it told me he was not lying. Not at all, he did know. That he'd struggled with the want to do either bad or good (bad I suspect) but decided eventually not to give a damn about either and to exist in a domain of his own darkness, all targeted at hating and despising every moment he existed.
I reached out to him, embraced him and heard him hiss softly into my ear, "Welcome to the darkness Potter."
By then, I no longer cared.
The End.