The Fields Of Sorrow
They wander in deep woods, in mournful light,
Amid long reeds and drowsy-headed poppies,
And lakes where no wave laps, and voiceless streams,
Upon whose banks in the dim light grows old
Flowers that were once bewailed names of Kings.
Ausonius
He's tired. He's stuck in this motionless abide that he is finding there is no way to get out; it is not black and it is not white, but oddly it isn't the shady grey he's become accustomed to.
There should be silence but he can hear static of the world around him.
His head feels heavy, his mind in the clouds, every thought is gone and drifting into the air.
There's weight holding his bodiless consciousness down.
--- -----
His head is heavy and he can feel the glued pastiness of his mouth. He can taste the smell of his foul breath. He hates this familiar feeling. Awake but still dreaming. Dreaming. Dreaming.
He can't wake himself up.
This reminds him of the tormented feeling he would have wishing wishing for something. A connection with the aware world. He feels the thoughts of everything seep into the whiteness. The blackness. The shadows. Is there anyone else stuck and lost in this dreaming?
Walls all over him. Voices muffled in a silent room.
Walls full of nothing. Walls that won't reveal the door.
He feels there someone is trying to get into his mind. He remembers that he can't let anyone into his mind. Because that wasn't the lesson.
The lesson?
There's a shooting pain in his mind while he's trying to remember what lesson... but there hasn't been any lessons lately.
Have there?
--- -----
He needs someone here. Someone who can't save him. Someone who won't try to save him.
Someone who dreams into the same walls, dreaming and accepting the dreams.
Inside the room full of walls he knows the feeling. That feeling of presence is missing. That person isn't here.
He's confused.
Confused.
Were there any lessons?
---- ------
He can smell this lemon scent. Citrus smell. He can feel his lips move. Though the words or silent in the feeling of presence. He can touch the place the smell is from, where the presence is felt.
But it's only inside these walls?
Why not outside?
--- ---
The first thing Harry is aware of when he wakes is the deep breathing in his chest. There are no immediate thoughts, breaking recent tradition he's very light headed while waking.
But there's the blurry image of Percy right in front of him most probably saying, 'Morning'. Mornings are when he wishes most that he could see without glasses.
He reaches up with both hands for his much desired morning kiss, hopefully Percy will crawl back into bed with him. Maybe he'll do nothing today. Laze around. Sometimes, even when one shouldn't it is nice to bask in misplaced bliss.
The kiss gives him a tingle.
He's quite the girl.
---- ---
The second thing Harry is made of aware when he wakes is that it is the second awakening.
One where he's more aware than he feels he wants to be with his glasses already on and the look of furious contempt on Bill Weasley's face.
Oddly he does get scared of Bill Weasley, even though he's aware that the older man will not harm him.
Maybe it's the scars. Reminds him of Moody.
He catches sight of the other Weasley's. Ron, and Mr. Weasley look expressionless. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley both have anxious looks on their faces.
Ginny slaps him across the face.
"My brother, that's the most disgusting thing you could do!" His chest sinks as her flowery scent chokes him. He looks at the bend of his knees under the bed covers. The tears want to come up and take him over, but his mind feels numb and his body is exhausted.
"Is he your plaything Potter? Because you've never shown any attraction towards him before. I've been smelling it --" Bill snarls and sounds as though he's trying to regain his composure "Need to vent out your frustration is that it? Or do you plan to make your way through the family? Merlin knows Harry Potter can have anyone he wants--"
"Bill! Stop that!" Hermione's cries are what start up the yelling, and all of them are yelling at each other as if Harry's no longer apart of it.
He's never felt so sad in his life.
He doesn't even know he's sobbing until arms go around him and he's crying so loud that his chest is wheezing and he's coughing slightly.
His head hurts. His chest hurts.
He's so tired.
--- -----
Percy had been in the room when all the Weasley's had been yelling at him. He didn't say a word.
Though they're at the cottage now. It doesn't matter. Harry's not sure if he can look Hermione in the face again after crying like he did. Though she sent him home with Percy, he can't help but feel even more lost.
"I love you." He whispers to his knees.
It's a long while before Percy says anything.
"Where the hell were you? You were gone for four months. I end up getting an owl from some Healer saying that you were calling for me." Percy gets up and stands in front of him. "Where were you, Harry?"
"I don't know." Another whisper. Because he doesn't know.
To be honest he can barely remember the day he left.
Do you believe in Evil?
He remembers thinking that at some point. Knowing that was the reason for his trip.
--- -----
The harsh breathing, bringing the skin up as an offering to warm lips.
Percy's hands are rough and unforgiving as he grips the back of Harry's thighs, snapping his hips and grunting loudly over Harry. The sensations are overwhelming for Harry whose whining and crying over the fullness and he loves it, as uncomfortable it is to be bent in half. It is however making it impossible to kiss Harry, despite it he still tries.
Twisting underneath the onslaught, moaning as the delicious feeling of having Percy inside him. Strangled cries for when Percy twists just so to hit that thing inside him, scrabbling at Percy's back for more of it. Keening as sweat drips down his face and he's having a hard time not to just scream and scream for more...
A brutal thrust sends him to a powerful release clinging to Percy as the man uses his body for more of his own pleasure. Gasping and panting for breath he distantly registers Percy own failing rhythms, shaking body as Harry can feel his cock start to pulse inside him.
This is what he's been wanting. From the moment he wanted this man.
--- ----
Breathing in short fast pants he feels the cooling touch of air on his skin. Forgetting the anger and the sadness that has plagued him since waking.
Instead smelling sweat, sex and the scent that comes off of Percy like an exotic perfume.
"Why did you come back?"
Harry's a little confused by the quiet question. Isn't it obvious? Isn't it clear?
"... Percy..."
"If you're fighting a war, you shouldn't get distracted. You shouldn't keep coming back until you've won." Percy has his eyes closed, his skin turning cold and wet.
"... What?" Harry's confused, his heart is pounding in his chest... he doesn't want Percy to say what he's going to say.
"Next time you leave, don't come back until it's over."
----- -----
The sky is blue, the clouds are white. There's no birds, no crickets or grasshoppers. Instead there's a boy named Harry.
A Not-So-Young-Boy-Named-Harry.
There's a grey boulder with black tar to his right. An old forgotten car tire to his left.
Where do I go from here...
Maybe he doesn't want to fight this war anymore. Maybe he doesn't want to be the hero, maybe he doesn't care about Peace or Justice... maybe he's tired... maybe he just wants to spend some time to be human.
Maybe he wants to be a child again. Not fighting demons.
Not fighting himself.
----- ----
