Harry pressed the shape of himself into the fresh green grass of the wild glade near Ari's house. Blades of grass tickled his flushed cheeks and the warmth of Ari's pink face beside his own made him giggle uncontrollably. The boy himself let out a breathy chuckle and folded his pale arms behind his head.

"That wasn't a victory, you know," Ari grumbled. Harry chortled.

"Then what was it?" Harry challenged.

"Lulling you into complacency…" Ari whispered slyly, his breath smelled like apples and mint toothpaste. Harry snorted and tore up some grass from the earth to throw into the smug git's face.

"You're pretty fast," The blond admitted rolling over to prop himself up onto an elbow. Harry looked over at him and raised a dark gloating eyebrow. Ari smiled but it was strained at best. Harry blinked and sat up so he was looking down at Ari.

"Why are you so fast?" Ari whispered plucking a dandelion from the glade and tucking it behind Harry's ear. Harry grabbed it and spun it around in his hands. His fingers were purple from the berries, his mouth was sweet from the apples and he wondered 'What do dandelions mean?'

Roses meant love, petunias meant resentment( which...fair), and Marigolds meant grief. Sometimes Harry mused that instead of a red string of fate tugging Ari and himself together there was twine and ivy (Ivy for Friendship and Fidelity).

"Harry?"

"Sunshine?" Harry grinned down at the solemn boy whose floppy hair was caught behind his arms. Ari didn't grin that gaptoothed smile up at him though. His lips didn't even twitch.

"Are they like Samathas dad?" He asked in a low voice. Everyone knew about Samantha's dad, except the adults because adults didn't usually know anything worth knowing. Not like kids did. Samantha's dad was a small skinny man with a fraying grey suit and no job. He always had enough money to buy alcohol though. He wasn't every big not compared to Uncle Vernon but you didn't need to be big or be strong to hurt a kid.

"Uncle Vernon doesn't drink," Harry corrected twisting the fragile stem of the dandelion between his palms. He wondered how Ari knew. His arms were bruised where Uncle Vernon had grabbed him and pulled him into his cupboard but Ari couldn't see that. His clothes were a bit loose on him and his ribs stuck out some but kids were picky eaters. He had welts from the lashing he'd taken a few days earlier and cigarette burns below his collar bones but Ari hadn't seen those either.

"But does he hit?" Ari didn't let up, his teal blue eyes were bright," Be straight with me." He said.

"He does," Harry admitted almost too quiet to hear. Ari was frozen in the grass next to him. Harry crushed the dandelion between his fingers watching the seeds rise and be carried away with the same gust of wind winding its way through Ari's golden waves.

"Proper shit, that," Ari breathed. His eyes were dark and they grew older with the shifting of the sun's position in the shade of the apple orchard. Harry licked his lips and tasted the air. Ari smelt like fresh green grass and apples, always apples. Harry himself always tasted like blood and maybe something a lot sweeter, like peaches.

Ari sat up abruptly and twisted around looking for something. He stopped and plucked a daisy from the glade and pressed it flat in Harrys hand his butterscotch eyes alight and the wind whistling 'I'll never tell'

While the dainty scent and the bitter twang of the belladonna wreaths wrapped around their throats not enough to harm but more than enough to warn.

The whole day Harrys back itched horribly. He couldn't check on the wounds he had gotten the night before because Aunt Petunia was working him relentlessly. Dudley had been expelled from Smeltings and Vernon was practically begging (read bribing) the Headmaster to allow Dudley another chance. Of course, they couldn't punish their poor innocent son for something out of his control so Aunt Petunia took it out on Harry.

So that's why Harry was wandering around the Dursley's home while the rest of the Dursleys were fast asleep finishing up the washing and revarnishing the floors. When Harry finished with his ridiculous amount of chores he decided to take a risk and shower. All the Dursleys were heavy sleepers and the bathroom he planned to use was on the first floor and had a newly installed shower head with pressure settings. As long as Harry turned it to the lowest pressure possible and was quick there's was no possibility of the Dursleys finding out.

Harry walked into the bathroom with a pair of jeans and a henley long sleeve. The shirt was grey so Aunt Petunia would hardly notice and the jeans were far from the fanciest he had gotten. They fit but that was about it. Most importantly, the clothes were clean. Harry turned on the water and stipped down before stepping into the shower. He didn't dawdle. He systematically cleaned his body with vigor slowly revealing honey brown skin and the gradient that showed on the parts that were regularly abused by the sun like his shoulders and forearms which were a deep bronze instead.

He used magic to clean his back carefully and then to disinfect his wounds. The itching stopped so Harry concluded it was that which had been bothering him. Once he was fully cleaned and disinfected he got out of the shower and used a Scugify to clean the bottom of the bathtub. He picked up his small bag of toiletries and started to wash and condition his hair in the sink. He used the products that boasted their long-time use and effectiveness. Soon his poppy red hair was shiny and gleaming, the small bits of gold that had been showing up here and there were shimmering under the dull fluorescents of the bathroom.

He then started to wash his face. Unlike Theo, Harry hadn't started to get stubble and he was a bit relieved by that. He didn't really see the appeal of hair on his face. That wasn't to say that Theo didn't look as positively groomed as ever, stubble or not. Once his body was clean, his face was clean, and his hair was clean, Harry brushed his teeth and used a fun device he bought while shopping. It was supposed to straighten and whiten his teeth which were crooked, sharp and although he had no cavities, they were a bit yellow since the Dursleys didn't exactly allow Harry to brush his teeth. To his delight, the Lockheart Smileinator (Merlin he hated that name) worked like a charm. His teeth were still sharp but he doubted anyone could fix it. They were just grown that way. However, they were shockingly white and clean. They were also perfectly straight and fit together to give him a perfect smile. It was a bit intimidating, Harry mused. He beamed at his reflection.

Good.

The last thing he needed to do was to check the deep injuries on his back. Harry turned around and gasped. He shouldn't have worried about his wounds since they were all healed up nicely but that wasn't what shocked him. Over his back was a huge tattoo. It depicted a scene where Harry was standing in front of a mirror much like the Mirror of Erised but instead it was engraved 'Respice Finem'. Consider the End.

In the mirror, was his parents, a changing amount of siblings, and Theo all standing together inside the mirror while Harry was left on the outside in his Hogwarts robes with the sword of Gryffindor in one hand and his other on the mirror. The mirror glowed silver from his back. Above the mirror was a black ribbon which bared the quote;

"Sometimes I feel my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living."

But that's not where the design ended. Around the mirror and surrounding the quote were flowers. Harry recognized many of them; Dark Crimson Roses, Black Sunflowers, Red Lotus, English Garden Roses, Daisies, and Black Floramia Nero Vine the framed the scene. Underneath the scene were two hands. One was white and pale holding a bruised apple and another was golden and healthy holding a golden snitch that fluttered its wings weakly.

Harry covered his mouth with his hand trying to catch his sobs. He couldn't rip his eyes away from the beautiful tattoo. His mother and father looked so happy as they danced around the frame dressed in beautiful clothing. His mother was wearing a slim white gown, it shimmered with sliver wreaths of filigree and flowers. Her shoulders were bare, her loose sleeves dangled around the top of her arms. She wore her hair down and loose, sleek red locks that waved at the ends decorated by nets of ivory pearls.

Her face was jubilant.

His mother had dainty pretty features and long slender limbs of pale cream. She looked like a dryad beautiful and unassailable nestled safely in his adopted father's arm. In one frame she held a child with black hair and hazel eyes and in another, she was with child, glowing and brilliant with happiness.

Harrys adopted father looked handsome and strong with powerful features and fitted robes. His black hair was slicked back, his tanned skin was healthy and glowing. His hazel eyes sparkled with mirth. He wore golden wire frame glasses and his ears stuck out. Merlin, Harry was overfilled with love for the man. This man died for him, love him, nurtured him and Harry wasn't even his.

He wore maroon robes with golden trim with a Greek design. He wore a matching waistcoat and dark pants. Behind the happy couple was Sirius and Professor Lupin dancing and making a fool of themselves sometimes falling out of the frame altogether and miming laughter.

Then there was Theo, tall and handsome. He stood near Harry watching the proceeding but watching Harry more. He wore an all-black ensemble with large silver bands around his arms with beautiful Norse inscriptions. He saved all of his dances for Harry.

Then Ari fucking White walked into the frame.

Harrys sleeves were folded up to his elbows as he laid dinner down on the table in front of the Dursleys. The steam from the dishes flushed his face red. The Dursleys themselves were walking down the stairs or prying themselves off the couch. Harry was quite numb to it all. He set down plates and silverware like the glorified house-elf he was. Nothing. He started washing the dishes in the sink and soaping down the counters and hobs. They were still hot. Na-Da. There was an itch no, a burning lingering just under his flesh. He scratched at his skin until tiny beads of blood broke out from the small dotted lines. Not even a fucking twinge.

The Dursleys were as loud and obnoxious as they always were. The silverware banged against porcelain serving bowls, mouths mushed food together in loud wet sounds, their laughter was loud and sharp in Harrys ears. Why was this bothering him? They were always like this. Why did Harry feel so raw? As if he would burst at the seams at any moment. Teeth tingling, skin burning, eyes itching, bones anticipating the break. Misery was better the second time and the third time. It cut him open and wore him as a coat to keep the rage strong, to keep warm. So that he could freeze it out with nothing. It was the gnawing thing in the void of his heart with jagged teeth and toffee-colored eyes.

The water in the sink grew cold where he was washing a dish. Colder, colder, like needles until they froze. Harry stilled. The plate shattered in a thousand opal glimmers. Diamond dust and glass. He looked down and his hands were slippery with blood, tiny impossible shards embedded in the skin. Pale gold, pale amber-like sunlight in a rainstorm.

Merlin, it's beautiful.

"BOY!" A hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Harry hardly felt the hand whip across his face or how his teeth trembled in his skull. He was on the ground. Why was he on the ground? The floor was wet. Wet clothes, wet floor, wet shoes, wet boys. Shaking and laughing scrawny arms across skeletal shoulders. Red from the cold and blue in death.

"You just can't. DO. ANYTHING. RIGHT!" SNAP! Pop! Smoke rose from a white cathedral far from the roads. They would get there in time. Hold on! They're almost there! Harry didn't notice when the hand went limp in his own but he held on tight. Hold on. Coughing. Hold on! A jacket had been thrown over his head. Scrawny arms over skeletal shoulders. A small head cradled in the bend of his neck. Still warm.

"Are you crying?! GET THE HELL UP!" He wasn't crying then. His throat was closed with smoke, his eyes were glued shut with soot. His hands were stuck with Ari. The church tasted like brimstone and apples. Smoke and apples. Death and apples. Maybe he cried.

"Stop. Stop. Stopstopstopstop..." Harry begged. The floor rocked with him like a boat at sea. The food fell off the table with a loud crash. Dudley slid into a wall with a loud thud. Pictures fell off the wall. The Dursleys ' happy faces stared up at him from their broken frames. An anguished scream broke free of his chest. Too hot. Green flames. We just wanted to be warm.

"Those things you do? They're special!"

Harry sobbed. He could hear the awe and taste the minty toothpaste, smell the burning- the burning-

Ari!

Petunia was saying something, maybe she was praying. Harry hadn't seen fear in her eyes like this since Euryale. Gold birds, gold eyes, white fingers, white ties. Around here, all funerals for children were done in white. Harry remembered thinking 'Goddamn it, why the hell would Ari ever want to see another church?!'

It was an open casket funeral and Ari looked transparent. A boy with golden hair and amber eyes, sunkissed skin, and sunburn shouldn't have ever looked so pale. Golden sand on fire, that thing there was a glass boy. The illusion was easily broken. Delicate. Pale. Cool to the touch. He had gone back when all the crying mothers were done trying to outdo the others in volume to press a kiss to his forehead and a daisy beneath all the roses. Cold and dry like paper. Not like Ari at all.

Harry didn't know how he got on the roof of the old nursery school but he was there and he was cold string up at the stars from the parapets. He took off his beanie and threw it down. It thudded so softly on the pavement, Harry could barely hear it. Without a whisper, without a sound. Mrs. Weasley would be putting dinner on the table now. Gran would be managing accounts or perhaps going over Neville's school work. What seemed like another link to his parents now weighed him down.

'There's nothing keeping me here.'

'But what about Theo?'

He opened his mouth to say something, say anything as if he owed the world some final words. As if he hadn't given it his best. His hair flew around his face as he kicked off his sneakers. They were very nice, yellow, with smiley faces on the sides. He climbed up onto the ledge. He toed the edge.

"Theo will wait. He always does.' Harry hesitated.

Then he stepped off.

He wasn't surprised when he was dropped onto his mattress inside the familiar walls of 4 Privet Drive. Expectation breeds disappointment.

A high-pitched laugh and a grin, green fire and green light.

'You are so loved'

'Do you want to come live with me?'

'I care about you so fucking much and I want you safe'

Harry sobbed into his brick-like pillow deep into the night.