A/N: Apologies for the delay. In the midst of December exams. *shivers*
At any rate, there is much deliberation over Draco's Feelings For His Stalkee. I promised clumpiness and there's... no clumpiness at all, sadly. But everything seems to have to do with the plot, so go me, I guess.
bluevanilla: hey, it's cool you like it! *smiles* i think i'll keep it somewhat simply cause it's the style of the story :) ~ hylaite: here 'tis. clumpiness for you to judge. :) ~ jabberwocky: haha... like this feeling of complete befuddlement then? welcome to my mind. this is why i don't need drugs, *lol* ~ Evil-Aurors-of-DEATH: *lol* i love your name. and the praise, thanks! ~ Anya Dvorak: alright, i stuck in the names of the POVs, hope it clears it up somewhat. ~ beautiful disaster: thanks! *stuffs antonyms in pocket for future use* ~ Katie, rissa: thanks, will do! ~ mistykasumi: i'll take 'different and confusing' as a compliment, *lol* thanks :) ~ Ayanagami: damn you're evil! here's some more darkness for ya :) ~ Goddess JacquesPierre: *lmao* c'est cute, ca! glad to know my fic's being clicked on by the... less 'normal' fraction of the population... heh...
[Disclaimer: Go figure. ^_^]
Graffiti Writings...
Chapter Three
[eyes of a fallen angel, eyes of a tragedy]
|malfoy|
I will. I will. I need to. I will.
Damn these assurances that never seem to get me anywhere. I'm no more convinced than I was before, before, before...
It's two days since Potions and where are you? I'm in the rose garden screaming under silencing spells. I'm leaving empty beds throughout the night. I'm everywhere but where I'm supposed to be.
And I will talk to you, I will talk to you, I need to talk to you.
I won't talk to you. I WILL talk to you. I need to ask you, but the question is impossible to form.
[Let me into you again.]
You'll say no. You have to say no, I saw you bend backwards and break yourself just to get me out the first time. I remember, it was only two days ago. Only two days! And I haven't slept at all. And everything I've eaten I've thrown up because I can't stand to have something inside of me like you had me inside of you.
Of course you'll say no. I know this. I still want to talk to you though. Maybe just get you to say something to me, to hear what you sound like when talking, not insulting or defending or spitting out vengences.
I want to see your face the way you look upon your friends. I should become invisible.
You showed me so *little* you liar, you whore! You bit the tears from my eyes and now I'm crying! You shoved a crucible down my throat and now I'm choking on you! Now I'm breathing you! Now I'm speaking with your voice in my head!
I'll go to Potions and I'll pray you're there. But you won't be. How could you be after the impossibility of before?
There's no before.
God, please be there. Whatever God posesses you, let you please be in that room today.
+++
|potter|
+++
"I don't think it's very wise, Mr Potter."
Harry lay back in his bed. His outburst had prompted the speculations of a few teachers as to his state of well-being, which in effect had produced several binding spells around his legs and arms and a set expression of lewd distaste plastered on his sternly tightened lips.
"I'd like to go to class. I'd like to learn today. I believe I'm well enough, and isn't it the reason I'm here-"
"Mr Potter-" Snape's stern voice wavered at the end of his name- "I... think Mme Pomfrey's opinion is best."
Harry turned sharply and stared at her, his green glass eyes cutting, sluicing through her, and she stepped backwards.
"I think he's well enough to go to class," she said under her breath. Snape's eyes narrowed, and Harry wondered why it was now his preoccupation to swoop down into the hospital wing every few hours to hover resentfully over him. Guilt, maybe?
"Okay." Harry couldn't manage a smile.
"But I think he should come back and sleep in the hospital wing for another couple of nights, as long as we... as we have the room..."
Why are they talking about me in the third person, Harry wondered. Am I dying? Those who are most near the end of their lives are often spared from direct conversation, objectified, idealised, and projected into the future or past as if they didn't exist in the moment. Third person. Like I'm not here at all.
He wanted to laugh. Somehow he thought it would keep him from making it to the Potions class, however.
"My class begins in five minutes." The voice of Professor Snape had an odd ringing quality, like sombre bells, as if he spoke from between his eyes, directly from his mind without interference or risk of misinterpretation through the use of clumsy tools like mouths and tongues. "I will expect Mr Potter to arrive late then, if he thus has your vouch of approval... though we are well accustomed by now..."
Swoop, and he was gone. Harry chuckled now and Mme Pomfrey looked frightened in her sudden confinement with her black-haired patient.
+++
|malfoy|
+++
And the class began and you weren't there. I spent ten minutes with my head turned away and my steeley eyes locked on the chair where you should be sitting.
"Malfoy, your teraweeds."
The wooden stand at the back of my desk was still half-filled with vials from last class. The silver liquid stared at me with unseen eyes diffused into the mercurial swirls. Tempting was not even a viable word... it was a push, as if the decision were unquestionable...
I fingered one with an outstretched arm.
"Malfoy, your leeches."
And my fingers rubbed the cork that sealed the mystical waters in.
"Malfoy!"
"Yes sir?"
Professor Snape had a soft spot for me. He'd never oppose me, it was almost as if...
I slid the vial from it's slot on the stand. The left-most bottle, I took... my cauldron had born six vials of the stuff, I remember, one used to test [I shuddered], and this one here, in my pearly fingers, itching to be used, to be slotted into you, to unlock you.
Like a liquid key to all that is you.
"Malfoy, are you even paying attention to me?"
"Uh... no sir, I'm sorry."
"Leave. Go. Out of my classroom."
That's a first.
"Now!"
Is he upset over something, maybe? The man has feelings, then, strangely enough. I slid from my chair and let my shoes click slowly down the rows of stiff-expressioned Gryffindors, eyeing me with cautious half-lidded stares. I left the room. It faded into the hall.
There was a shock, when I turned around and saw you there.
Potter.
Harry.
But you slipped into the classroom and turned your face away before I could say anything. A rush swept over me as you brushed by.
For the first time I noticed the tradgedy in your eyes.
+++
|weasley|
+++
In the back of the Potions classroom, you appeared. I'd seen you before, looking asleep, forhead wrinkled like you were struggling with some intricate dream, a maze, a puzzle. But I didn't know what to think then, so it was a small surprise to see you now.
"Harry!"
"Hey Ron."
"When did you wake up? Mme Pomfrey made us leave... you were out all day, we were worried..."
"I know."
"Herm's working on a special project. She'll love to see you're all right... what happened to you?"
"I..." a shadow of dissonance darts across your downcast eyes. "I fell down. I don't know. Snape was there, he brought me to Mme Pomfrey... I really don't remember much."
I look up instead of answering you. There are a million answers I can think of. Instead I study the looming Professor Snape as he studies you, and am amused and repulsed by the tenderness in his stare that I'm sure you'll never see. The guarded man. The veil of ice, the mask of stone. Armored against you as he watches like a ghostly father.
You turn and start your potion. You haven't the instructions, though, so I think to help you, but you seem to have gone off on a vein of your own. You have last class's potion in your hand... and the potions left over from before, what are you doing? The vials, you slip into your robes. You're not allowed, Harry, you... You seize a long silver knife and you-
"Harry!"
Professor Snape didn't see what you were doing, your hand was behind the desk.
The room looks at me. They look at you. But your hand's behind the desk.
But there's something wrong, something wrong... you can tell. Your head falls forward and your wide vacant eyes are paralized in a sickening blank stare. I can't tell if you heard me or not, you just stopped, and the knife dangled between your limp fingers.
There's a shock of red forming now where the blade turned against your palm. Beads of crimson form along the invisible line, bright crimon dew drops on your palm.
Behind the desk.
And no one else sees.
+++
|malfoy|
+++
I'm waiting for you in the hospital wing. I didn't realize you'd be coming... but now I know you are. So it wasn't intentional, just sad... and I'll close the white sterile curtains around myself so that you won't see me here.
I lick the blood from my bottom lip. I bit so hard it ran. I didn't realize... I... made a mistake...
+++
|potter|
+++
I can't explain.
I think Professor Snape guessed from my expression- I'd drawn my head between my shoulders and was rocking softly back and forth, breathing shallowly and uncontrollably. It was inconceivable that I'd hurt myself.
No one saw. It was underneath the desk. I'd cut my hand in the standard place, the spot on the fleshy mound of the palm where blood for potions is usually drawn. But it wasn't for a potion, I just wanted to see-
Snape guessed. He came flying over in a storm of black mercy and robes and with a firm warm hand on my back connected me to the room and led me out.
You were gone from outside. But I think you knew. I think you knew I was sick again, sick again... always sick sick sick.
Snape led me down the hall but I started to cry, not sobbing, but just numb tears escaping my wide half-blinded eyes. Connect. I kept trying to connect. I couldn't, though... couldn't justify that I was standing in the hall, falling to the floor, kneeling there with Professor Snape and creating all this shame I could never face... with the drops of blood slipping in perfect red stripes across my hand.
Can't face.
Going to the hospital wing and I know you know I'm going there. You never left me, I realize this- this that I couldn't realize before, you never left, you're still there... a little bit of you...
Professor won't rush. There's something warm and comforting about him in this way; his cold resentment is only a neutral pillar now, and I'm leaning on him. He seems distracted as I curl around his arm and breathe, breathe, breathe.
I can't stop breathing.
It's coming hysterically, but soon it'll pass. So why do I care? I'm not in this moment anyway.
I...
I feel you again. In my head. Again. And the blackness eats away my vision, sickening me into sleep... but I fight it and this time, this time I stay awake. Awake to hear my breathing still. Awake to feel Professor Snape move next to me and scoop me to my feet.
"I want to go to the hospital..." I shudder, and he nods.
There's the empty promise that I'll be alright as he leads me up the stairs. There's the strange familiarity that he's watching me with scorn and concern that bothers me. There's something not right because you... you know where I am and I can't see where you are. What hold did you get on me when you were inside me... what did you see?
I have no obsessions. I have only the lost thoughts of a hero's mask with a boy within, and a spirit that has fled humanity. I'm not part of this world anymore.
I... can't stand sleeping in the dorms, I think, and laugh. Which is okay because I have the hospital now.
I have.
Okay.
+++
|malfoy|
+++
Every time it happens I go blank. And I see your face, and your eyes, and behind your eyes. Sucked in to you again, but not really, just a horrible dream where I can't see anything and there's only the abysmal darkness of YOU-
And I awake and there's blood on me and blood on you.
I watched him lead you in.
Blood on your hand, Harry, and I can tell you that it was the most frightening thing I'd ever seen... because as the blood streamed off your hand, the blood streamed off my lips, and as the lights and shadows in your eyes were gently calmed to the image of an endless rippling jade sea, I felt my eyes go steady and clouded.
I'm within you, and you're within me.
I can feel you. Can you feel me?
I peeked through the curtains. I'm not myself, I felt, and my body shook. No. I'm myself. I'm very much myself right now. It's beyond the curtains that there's you, and when you're fine, I'm empty of you. And when you're troubled, then your eyes become my eyes. Your storms become my tempests.
I think I saw something you didn't see. I think that I saw the dreams that you'd forgotten, or the images traced in the darkness of your unconscious spells. I think, I think, I think... I can't figure you out, and maybe you can't either...
Can I help?
I'm suddenly afraid. The room seems empty and your eyes have vanished from my mind.
+++
Trance healing of your subliminal waters
Stills the clouded sea of dreams
Unfathomable gems reflecting all the
Secrets in your screams
I could have waded out, called to you
But I suffocated on you
Choking down your suffering
Your dreams, your liquid disease
I'll make you better.
Trace the marks;
The curve of your neck;
Scars I made with your nails.
And read the etchings on the walls
Of the caverns of your mind.
+++
potter
+++
I awake suddenly, and I feel... innocent... alone... ever-present... young.
Different. But the same, still. Somehow. The bed stifles me with it's linnen confines and acidic taste of disease... there's a scalpel on the rack beside the cot and I just stare fixated licking my lips and swallowing the surges of need... to re-enact...
It was nice cutting through my hand like that. I think about this, and think about what if...
If I do anything now, I will most seriosuly have to ponder my sanity.
Don't care, don't care... can't care right now, the moment is beautiful.
I know why they call in the middle of the night. The space between consciousnesses, the dark empty spot where all the world flies away, it's the heart of Night... the moment when what is your world is utterly forgotten. I'm just a soul in the room, and nothing exists outside this endless dusk...
An endless night that will protect me and free me from this dull continuum forever...
I reach out and take the scalpel. I'm moving without thinking now. And I hear you stir in the bed across the room.
What?
I jump a bit, stiffen where I lay. You whimper. I forget about wondering why you're there, you're there. I cut. You jump. You cry. I'm fascinated.
Again and again, into the soft solidity of my upper arm, destroying and mangling the pale perfect soft childishness. I'm baptized, I think, and my breath quickens, and I cry silently to myself out of joy and sudden surprising absolution, I'm free of it all.. free, forever changed... forever marred and no more of this world...
You twist, I can tell. I can hear the swish of sheets.
I get up and slide through the curtains around my isolatorium, and pace across the moon-drenched floor, liquid under the pale illuminations. Your bed... your bed.
I open up the curtains because I feel you close to me, and hear you breathing, shuddering with every shocked exhalation.
I stare.
Your mouth is torn open by your teeth. Your arm is bitten through. There's stars of blood like bullets exploded over you.
And I see your blood. And my blood. And the scalpel. And the teeth.
And you. Staring at me. Afraid and hungry.
+++
A/N: Yeah, slash next chapter. I realize they're OOC, kinda, that's cause I didn't set out to write a Harry Potter fic... they just sort of became the characters cause I'd been reading my friend's barrages of fiction, yeah...
So, I mean, it's been a while since the canon. That's my excuse. :) If you want to spur me on faster or just make me feel good, why, i dunno... leave a review. It's good for you :)
At any rate, there is much deliberation over Draco's Feelings For His Stalkee. I promised clumpiness and there's... no clumpiness at all, sadly. But everything seems to have to do with the plot, so go me, I guess.
bluevanilla: hey, it's cool you like it! *smiles* i think i'll keep it somewhat simply cause it's the style of the story :) ~ hylaite: here 'tis. clumpiness for you to judge. :) ~ jabberwocky: haha... like this feeling of complete befuddlement then? welcome to my mind. this is why i don't need drugs, *lol* ~ Evil-Aurors-of-DEATH: *lol* i love your name. and the praise, thanks! ~ Anya Dvorak: alright, i stuck in the names of the POVs, hope it clears it up somewhat. ~ beautiful disaster: thanks! *stuffs antonyms in pocket for future use* ~ Katie, rissa: thanks, will do! ~ mistykasumi: i'll take 'different and confusing' as a compliment, *lol* thanks :) ~ Ayanagami: damn you're evil! here's some more darkness for ya :) ~ Goddess JacquesPierre: *lmao* c'est cute, ca! glad to know my fic's being clicked on by the... less 'normal' fraction of the population... heh...
[Disclaimer: Go figure. ^_^]
Graffiti Writings...
Chapter Three
[eyes of a fallen angel, eyes of a tragedy]
|malfoy|
I will. I will. I need to. I will.
Damn these assurances that never seem to get me anywhere. I'm no more convinced than I was before, before, before...
It's two days since Potions and where are you? I'm in the rose garden screaming under silencing spells. I'm leaving empty beds throughout the night. I'm everywhere but where I'm supposed to be.
And I will talk to you, I will talk to you, I need to talk to you.
I won't talk to you. I WILL talk to you. I need to ask you, but the question is impossible to form.
[Let me into you again.]
You'll say no. You have to say no, I saw you bend backwards and break yourself just to get me out the first time. I remember, it was only two days ago. Only two days! And I haven't slept at all. And everything I've eaten I've thrown up because I can't stand to have something inside of me like you had me inside of you.
Of course you'll say no. I know this. I still want to talk to you though. Maybe just get you to say something to me, to hear what you sound like when talking, not insulting or defending or spitting out vengences.
I want to see your face the way you look upon your friends. I should become invisible.
You showed me so *little* you liar, you whore! You bit the tears from my eyes and now I'm crying! You shoved a crucible down my throat and now I'm choking on you! Now I'm breathing you! Now I'm speaking with your voice in my head!
I'll go to Potions and I'll pray you're there. But you won't be. How could you be after the impossibility of before?
There's no before.
God, please be there. Whatever God posesses you, let you please be in that room today.
+++
|potter|
+++
"I don't think it's very wise, Mr Potter."
Harry lay back in his bed. His outburst had prompted the speculations of a few teachers as to his state of well-being, which in effect had produced several binding spells around his legs and arms and a set expression of lewd distaste plastered on his sternly tightened lips.
"I'd like to go to class. I'd like to learn today. I believe I'm well enough, and isn't it the reason I'm here-"
"Mr Potter-" Snape's stern voice wavered at the end of his name- "I... think Mme Pomfrey's opinion is best."
Harry turned sharply and stared at her, his green glass eyes cutting, sluicing through her, and she stepped backwards.
"I think he's well enough to go to class," she said under her breath. Snape's eyes narrowed, and Harry wondered why it was now his preoccupation to swoop down into the hospital wing every few hours to hover resentfully over him. Guilt, maybe?
"Okay." Harry couldn't manage a smile.
"But I think he should come back and sleep in the hospital wing for another couple of nights, as long as we... as we have the room..."
Why are they talking about me in the third person, Harry wondered. Am I dying? Those who are most near the end of their lives are often spared from direct conversation, objectified, idealised, and projected into the future or past as if they didn't exist in the moment. Third person. Like I'm not here at all.
He wanted to laugh. Somehow he thought it would keep him from making it to the Potions class, however.
"My class begins in five minutes." The voice of Professor Snape had an odd ringing quality, like sombre bells, as if he spoke from between his eyes, directly from his mind without interference or risk of misinterpretation through the use of clumsy tools like mouths and tongues. "I will expect Mr Potter to arrive late then, if he thus has your vouch of approval... though we are well accustomed by now..."
Swoop, and he was gone. Harry chuckled now and Mme Pomfrey looked frightened in her sudden confinement with her black-haired patient.
+++
|malfoy|
+++
And the class began and you weren't there. I spent ten minutes with my head turned away and my steeley eyes locked on the chair where you should be sitting.
"Malfoy, your teraweeds."
The wooden stand at the back of my desk was still half-filled with vials from last class. The silver liquid stared at me with unseen eyes diffused into the mercurial swirls. Tempting was not even a viable word... it was a push, as if the decision were unquestionable...
I fingered one with an outstretched arm.
"Malfoy, your leeches."
And my fingers rubbed the cork that sealed the mystical waters in.
"Malfoy!"
"Yes sir?"
Professor Snape had a soft spot for me. He'd never oppose me, it was almost as if...
I slid the vial from it's slot on the stand. The left-most bottle, I took... my cauldron had born six vials of the stuff, I remember, one used to test [I shuddered], and this one here, in my pearly fingers, itching to be used, to be slotted into you, to unlock you.
Like a liquid key to all that is you.
"Malfoy, are you even paying attention to me?"
"Uh... no sir, I'm sorry."
"Leave. Go. Out of my classroom."
That's a first.
"Now!"
Is he upset over something, maybe? The man has feelings, then, strangely enough. I slid from my chair and let my shoes click slowly down the rows of stiff-expressioned Gryffindors, eyeing me with cautious half-lidded stares. I left the room. It faded into the hall.
There was a shock, when I turned around and saw you there.
Potter.
Harry.
But you slipped into the classroom and turned your face away before I could say anything. A rush swept over me as you brushed by.
For the first time I noticed the tradgedy in your eyes.
+++
|weasley|
+++
In the back of the Potions classroom, you appeared. I'd seen you before, looking asleep, forhead wrinkled like you were struggling with some intricate dream, a maze, a puzzle. But I didn't know what to think then, so it was a small surprise to see you now.
"Harry!"
"Hey Ron."
"When did you wake up? Mme Pomfrey made us leave... you were out all day, we were worried..."
"I know."
"Herm's working on a special project. She'll love to see you're all right... what happened to you?"
"I..." a shadow of dissonance darts across your downcast eyes. "I fell down. I don't know. Snape was there, he brought me to Mme Pomfrey... I really don't remember much."
I look up instead of answering you. There are a million answers I can think of. Instead I study the looming Professor Snape as he studies you, and am amused and repulsed by the tenderness in his stare that I'm sure you'll never see. The guarded man. The veil of ice, the mask of stone. Armored against you as he watches like a ghostly father.
You turn and start your potion. You haven't the instructions, though, so I think to help you, but you seem to have gone off on a vein of your own. You have last class's potion in your hand... and the potions left over from before, what are you doing? The vials, you slip into your robes. You're not allowed, Harry, you... You seize a long silver knife and you-
"Harry!"
Professor Snape didn't see what you were doing, your hand was behind the desk.
The room looks at me. They look at you. But your hand's behind the desk.
But there's something wrong, something wrong... you can tell. Your head falls forward and your wide vacant eyes are paralized in a sickening blank stare. I can't tell if you heard me or not, you just stopped, and the knife dangled between your limp fingers.
There's a shock of red forming now where the blade turned against your palm. Beads of crimson form along the invisible line, bright crimon dew drops on your palm.
Behind the desk.
And no one else sees.
+++
|malfoy|
+++
I'm waiting for you in the hospital wing. I didn't realize you'd be coming... but now I know you are. So it wasn't intentional, just sad... and I'll close the white sterile curtains around myself so that you won't see me here.
I lick the blood from my bottom lip. I bit so hard it ran. I didn't realize... I... made a mistake...
+++
|potter|
+++
I can't explain.
I think Professor Snape guessed from my expression- I'd drawn my head between my shoulders and was rocking softly back and forth, breathing shallowly and uncontrollably. It was inconceivable that I'd hurt myself.
No one saw. It was underneath the desk. I'd cut my hand in the standard place, the spot on the fleshy mound of the palm where blood for potions is usually drawn. But it wasn't for a potion, I just wanted to see-
Snape guessed. He came flying over in a storm of black mercy and robes and with a firm warm hand on my back connected me to the room and led me out.
You were gone from outside. But I think you knew. I think you knew I was sick again, sick again... always sick sick sick.
Snape led me down the hall but I started to cry, not sobbing, but just numb tears escaping my wide half-blinded eyes. Connect. I kept trying to connect. I couldn't, though... couldn't justify that I was standing in the hall, falling to the floor, kneeling there with Professor Snape and creating all this shame I could never face... with the drops of blood slipping in perfect red stripes across my hand.
Can't face.
Going to the hospital wing and I know you know I'm going there. You never left me, I realize this- this that I couldn't realize before, you never left, you're still there... a little bit of you...
Professor won't rush. There's something warm and comforting about him in this way; his cold resentment is only a neutral pillar now, and I'm leaning on him. He seems distracted as I curl around his arm and breathe, breathe, breathe.
I can't stop breathing.
It's coming hysterically, but soon it'll pass. So why do I care? I'm not in this moment anyway.
I...
I feel you again. In my head. Again. And the blackness eats away my vision, sickening me into sleep... but I fight it and this time, this time I stay awake. Awake to hear my breathing still. Awake to feel Professor Snape move next to me and scoop me to my feet.
"I want to go to the hospital..." I shudder, and he nods.
There's the empty promise that I'll be alright as he leads me up the stairs. There's the strange familiarity that he's watching me with scorn and concern that bothers me. There's something not right because you... you know where I am and I can't see where you are. What hold did you get on me when you were inside me... what did you see?
I have no obsessions. I have only the lost thoughts of a hero's mask with a boy within, and a spirit that has fled humanity. I'm not part of this world anymore.
I... can't stand sleeping in the dorms, I think, and laugh. Which is okay because I have the hospital now.
I have.
Okay.
+++
|malfoy|
+++
Every time it happens I go blank. And I see your face, and your eyes, and behind your eyes. Sucked in to you again, but not really, just a horrible dream where I can't see anything and there's only the abysmal darkness of YOU-
And I awake and there's blood on me and blood on you.
I watched him lead you in.
Blood on your hand, Harry, and I can tell you that it was the most frightening thing I'd ever seen... because as the blood streamed off your hand, the blood streamed off my lips, and as the lights and shadows in your eyes were gently calmed to the image of an endless rippling jade sea, I felt my eyes go steady and clouded.
I'm within you, and you're within me.
I can feel you. Can you feel me?
I peeked through the curtains. I'm not myself, I felt, and my body shook. No. I'm myself. I'm very much myself right now. It's beyond the curtains that there's you, and when you're fine, I'm empty of you. And when you're troubled, then your eyes become my eyes. Your storms become my tempests.
I think I saw something you didn't see. I think that I saw the dreams that you'd forgotten, or the images traced in the darkness of your unconscious spells. I think, I think, I think... I can't figure you out, and maybe you can't either...
Can I help?
I'm suddenly afraid. The room seems empty and your eyes have vanished from my mind.
+++
Trance healing of your subliminal waters
Stills the clouded sea of dreams
Unfathomable gems reflecting all the
Secrets in your screams
I could have waded out, called to you
But I suffocated on you
Choking down your suffering
Your dreams, your liquid disease
I'll make you better.
Trace the marks;
The curve of your neck;
Scars I made with your nails.
And read the etchings on the walls
Of the caverns of your mind.
+++
potter
+++
I awake suddenly, and I feel... innocent... alone... ever-present... young.
Different. But the same, still. Somehow. The bed stifles me with it's linnen confines and acidic taste of disease... there's a scalpel on the rack beside the cot and I just stare fixated licking my lips and swallowing the surges of need... to re-enact...
It was nice cutting through my hand like that. I think about this, and think about what if...
If I do anything now, I will most seriosuly have to ponder my sanity.
Don't care, don't care... can't care right now, the moment is beautiful.
I know why they call in the middle of the night. The space between consciousnesses, the dark empty spot where all the world flies away, it's the heart of Night... the moment when what is your world is utterly forgotten. I'm just a soul in the room, and nothing exists outside this endless dusk...
An endless night that will protect me and free me from this dull continuum forever...
I reach out and take the scalpel. I'm moving without thinking now. And I hear you stir in the bed across the room.
What?
I jump a bit, stiffen where I lay. You whimper. I forget about wondering why you're there, you're there. I cut. You jump. You cry. I'm fascinated.
Again and again, into the soft solidity of my upper arm, destroying and mangling the pale perfect soft childishness. I'm baptized, I think, and my breath quickens, and I cry silently to myself out of joy and sudden surprising absolution, I'm free of it all.. free, forever changed... forever marred and no more of this world...
You twist, I can tell. I can hear the swish of sheets.
I get up and slide through the curtains around my isolatorium, and pace across the moon-drenched floor, liquid under the pale illuminations. Your bed... your bed.
I open up the curtains because I feel you close to me, and hear you breathing, shuddering with every shocked exhalation.
I stare.
Your mouth is torn open by your teeth. Your arm is bitten through. There's stars of blood like bullets exploded over you.
And I see your blood. And my blood. And the scalpel. And the teeth.
And you. Staring at me. Afraid and hungry.
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A/N: Yeah, slash next chapter. I realize they're OOC, kinda, that's cause I didn't set out to write a Harry Potter fic... they just sort of became the characters cause I'd been reading my friend's barrages of fiction, yeah...
So, I mean, it's been a while since the canon. That's my excuse. :) If you want to spur me on faster or just make me feel good, why, i dunno... leave a review. It's good for you :)