Rating: well this here
chapter would be PG, most likely. But some of it will be R. I promise.
Warnings: slash, as in m/m
pairings.
Spoilers: none, as far as I
know.
Oh AND: this is harry's
point of view. And I'm not posting anymore until I get more reviews. Actually,
until I write more, which would make sense, eh? Thanks to everyone who has
already reviewed (cool dog, meekychunky, nyanko and perminator). Please keep
reading (hah, I'm begging already! That's quite sad!)… and I will be returning
to everyone's favorite twins shortly.
"Not you, too." Ron says in exasperation, flopping onto his
bed. "What is this, the Summer of Recluses, or something? What's wrong with you
now?"
"Nothing. I'm just thinking." I say, offering a small and,
I'm sure, entirely unconvincing smile.
He rolls his eyes. "Yeah. That's Fred's excuse, too. Look,
it's summer. You're not supposed to be thinking." He frowns at me. "Look, this
isn't about you being bi, and all, is it? Because I told you it doesn't matter.
I mean, look at the twins."
"Yes. I mean, no. That is, not directly." I sigh. "It's just,
it's not about how your family reacts or anything. I know it's okay with them.
I'm really grateful to everyone, for being so understanding. And supportive. I
mean, it's great, Ron. Really it's great."
He looks at me blankly, his eyebrows raised. "So… what's the
problem?"
I shake my head. "It's nothing. Honestly, it's nothing. It's
just sort of this… well I guess I like someone. And I've just been thinking
about it a lot."
He grins. "well, that's great, Harry! What's so bad about
that? And who do you like?"
I sigh. I knew he would ask me this, and I tried to avoid it,
because I really don't have an answer that will satisfy him. It's not as if I
could tell him. Even Ron, my best friend, would freak out and do something like
hit me, or curse me, or just plain stop talking to me. "Uh, I really, I sort of
can't tell you that." I mumble and I can feel myself turning redder than Ron's
hair.
His eyes widen in horror. "Harry, it's not.. I mean, you're
not… I mean, you don't like one of my brothers, do you?"
I give him a disbelieving look. "Ron, come on! They're
practically my family!" I say in defense, then roll onto my back and stare at
his bright orange ceiling. "No, it's just, I really can't tell you now, okay?"
He shrugs and gets off his bed, heading towards the door.
"You can't, or you won't?" he asks and then leaves the room, his door shutting
quietly behind him.
I sigh and roll onto my stomach, wrapping my arms around my
pillow and burying my face in it. I'm sorry, I really am. I want to tell him. I
feel like I need to tell someone this dark secret that spins a web of desire
and hatred in my heart and shatters all the walls I have built over the years.
Sometimes I think I could tell Fred, because when I look into
his eyes it's like looking into a mirror. But I've never had what you could
call a serious conversation with Fred, and to be honest I'm not sure how to go
about it.
Hermione and Ron are out of the picture, as much as I want to
tell them, I know I can't. I can hear their reactions in my head- Ron's full of
horror and disgust, something like: what? That slimy git? Harry, have you
lost it? His father is a death eater! They're Dark wizards, Harry! All of them!
and Hermione's horrified but painfully sensible approach: well maybe it's
just a passing thing, Harry, maybe it's just an obsession, you know, you've
hated him for so long, and now… and me, trying pitifully to defend myself,
in a small voice, saying, I don't hate him, I've never hated him…
And I'm desperate to tell him. I have no idea where he lives
but it shouldn't be hard to find him. The words are crusted around my tongue,
they thrash in my mouth, longing to get out. I want to touch his smooth icy
cheek and look into his cool blue eyes and I want to see him react, I want to
see him finally look at me, not through me.
Maybe Hermione would be right, maybe it is an obsession, a
need to make him want me more than I want him. But somehow I don't think so.
Somehow I think it's more.
And he's so beautiful, a silver gash in my mind. And I
just can't seem to let go. I don't think I know how.
"Harry?" Ginny's timid voice greets my ears as she pushes the
door open. "Um, Mum said, that lunch is ready, and if you want to come down and
eat some, and if not she'll just save you some, for when you're hungry."
I offer yet another unconvincing smile. "Thanks, Gin. I'll be
down in a moment."
But I don't want to leave this furnace of a room, don't want
to leave my solitude and peace. I don't want to have to smile and laugh and try
to make everything alright. For the first time since I have met them, I do not
want the company of the Weasleys, don't want to have to sit and watch them be a
family, a wonderful family.
What has he done to me?