Chapter Thirty-Three - Purgatory
---
I'm back... miss me too much? *grin* Anyway, my book's published. You can get it from indybook.com right now, or barnesandnoble.com (they're being asses and not putting the right version up yet though... grrr). Amazon's being stupid and not posting it as of yet, so... *shrug* I finished the second book (in two weeks), and I hope you all had very happy holidays and a great New Year. Happy Year of the Sheep to you all.
http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbnInquiry.asp?userid=2TFFBIFE78&vcqty=1&isbn=1932205063
http://www.indybook.com/indybookcom/item.asp?item_id=340
By the way, I didn't write the back of the book (part of which you can find on indybook.com). It cuts off... the rest should be something like "Together, they experience the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, until one fateful afternoon, Zac makes a choice that will change his life forever." Blah Blah Blah. I was pissed cuz my editor made it sound like HP or someting to begin with (which I can guarentee you, it's nothing like at all, beside the whole orphan thing). Anyway. *grin*
Aimée
---
I awoke in the rays of the late morning sun to the sound of heels clicking smartly against the tiled floor of my New York City high-rise flat. Bemusedly, I looked over toward the image of my most recent girlfriend, a beautiful woman with raven-hair whose name was neither important nor memorable. She was one in what had been nearly two dozen the past three years, someone I would scarcely remember a year from that day.
"It's over, James," she snapped, using the name I had become accustomed to. I wasn't sure as to how far the legacy Voldemort had left behind stretched, and I was in no way ready to deal with a witch or wizard who recognized me. I had spent nearly a third of a decade peacefully residing in one of the better flats of the city, courtesy of the inheritance my biological father had left me, and I wasn't willing to give up my location or privacy; therefore, the first time I had been asked my name—by a leggy blonde at a club I had since frequented often—I decided to use my father's name instead of the one I had been born with.
"Don't flatter yourself," I muttered into the pillow, closing my eyes and trying to will myself back to sleep. "It never started to begin with."
With a final huff, the woman pulled her heavy suitcase from the floor—one she had spent the past quarter of an hour packing—and clicked through the apartment and finally out of the door and my life forever. I didn't mind; she was just another face in the crowd, one who had never meant more to me than a trophy and a fuck.
With a sharp internal pain, Draco's face appeared suddenly in front of me, as if tattooed to the inner lids of my eyes. For so long, I had refused myself the privilege and luxury of thinking of him, but the promise I had made to him so long ago flashed through my mind as if it had been made only yesterday; one in which I promised him I would never sleep with anyone I didn't love.
Well, fuck me and call me a liar, I sighed, a pang of loneliness washing over me as I simply lay there, not knowing what else to do.
Why can't you be here? I moaned mentally, reaching out with all my might to touch his mind, despite my knowledge that it was impossible. The distance between us was too great; I couldn't read his thoughts and he couldn't read mine, I was sure of it.
My reasons for leaving three years previous had been glaringly obvious at the time, but as I lay there on the large, king-sized bed I had shared with so many others, I couldn't remember a single one. I had come to terms with my brother's death and had begrudgingly accepted the whole ordeal, and my motive for staying had now simply become a game; how long could I hold out until I cracked, from lack of family and human contact—real human contact, not the sex I could buy on a street corner for fifty American dollars.
With each passing day, I was sinking deeper and deeper into a life that held no meaning, one in which I slept all day and partied all night. On the rare occasion it shifted—such as that morning, when my girlfriend had finally decided the money simply wasn't worth putting up with my sour attitude and lack of enthusiasm for all that surrounded me—I rarely took notice. I was stuck in a life and I hadn't a clue how to live it.
Once again, I tried with all my might to reach out to the mind that I had once known so intimately, trying to catch even a glance of he whom I had craved for what I was certain to be a thousand lifetimes and beyond. All at once, I felt the faintest glimmer of a similar touch, and I knew he was aware I was thinking of him. Despite my desperation to see him once again, I shied away from his searching, not wanting him to be able to find me. I was far too ashamed of what I had done to him to even considering reconciling; I had first left him for a bitch of a woman and then had left the country, and for the past three years I had bedded dozens of women with no shame or remorse, no longer concerned with the rest of the world. All I concentrated on was not thinking of him, and on that warm fall morning, I finally gave in to temptation and allowed myself to remember exactly what being with Draco felt like.
It was much later in the day when I found myself wandering in to a small café across from the club I haunted every-other night, my mind cloudy and stomach rumbling its demands. I was due to meet a few friends I had made in the past years in less than an hour, and, as usual, I had neglected my hunger all morning and afternoon. The trio—all men in their early- to mid-twenties—were nothing more than people to hunt for that night's girl with, and I was content to keep it as such. They knew nothing about me—not even my last name—and I knew nothing about them, save their tastes in women and the ways in which each preferred their partner to bend and stretch whist in bed. It was a disgusting pastime, one I kept simply to humor the habit I had developed and my uneasiness for spending the nights alone.
After ordering from the busty waitress who had undoubtedly come to the Big City convinced she was to be the Next It Girl, I slid my hand into my jacket sleeve, where I hid my wand, and allowed Sam to poke her tiny green head out in bemused awareness.
"You eat far too little," she hissed, staring up at me with her unblinking eyes.
"I ordered a large meal," I lied, not wanting to fight with my pet for what was to be the umpteenth time over such a trivial thing as my food intake. She was happy and content, always either wrapped loosely around my forearm and hidden under my jacket or asleep in the bed I had arranged for her, set in a quiet corner of my flat.
"There is an owl," she said in a quite ordinary tone, turning her head toward the large glass window I sat next to. Shocked, I quickly turned to look toward the spot she was staring at, taking in the vision of a gray owl with a piece of parchment folded into a letter clutched within its talons.
"That's impossible," I insisted, speaking in parsel tongue strictly out of habit. "I don't know of any wizards or witches who live in North America."
The owl flew through the door leading in to the restaurant when an elderly man pushed it open, gliding directly toward me, content to simply drop the letter into the glass of water I had obtained. With a shocked look upon my face, I took the parchment out of the glass and shook it, relieved to find the only placed where liquid had touched had been an insignificant, unmarked corner.
With shaking hands and a feeling of queasiness rushing through me, I carefully undid the parchment and read the words written inside with great care, placing every word within my memory.
Harry,
I don't know how to begin to say how much I've missed you, but what I first must do is to make sure you know I am in no way angered with you. I don't care about the past, and haven't for the past three years. It's been far too long, Harry, and I assure you I am not to only one who misses you.
A strange thing happened this afternoon, an event you could perhaps shed some light upon. I was in the middle of teaching my fourth-years all about the famous Harry Potter and his run in with the Evil Lord Voldemort (cue the dramatic music, if you please), when I felt a flutter against my mind. My Ravenclaws were quite shocked when I stopped mid-sentence and ran out of the room; after all, it's been far too long, and I would never miss a chance to hear from you.
You were trying to contact me today; don't deny it, we both know it was there. I've missed you, Harry, and I'll do everything in my power to see you again. However, I know you've felt as if you're not worthy of me; the opposite is true, but it is a free country and you are allowed to think whatever pleases that insatiable mind of yours. I need to know if you want to see me again, for Merlin knows I need to see you more than anything else in the world right now.
A simple nod will do.
D.
With mixed emotions, both humor from the rushed manner in which the letter was composed and complete shock, I turned to inspect each of the café's customers, trying to find the blonde-haired man I had spent so many years with. A red haired woman—a dark haired Middle Eastern man—a brunette woman—none matched. Wildly, I looked out the window, but once again my search proved futile.
Finally, at a lose of what else to do, I nodded my consent, closing my eyes and holding my breath for as long as I dared.
When I finally opened my eyes once more, I half-expected to see the face of Draco Malfoy placed in front of me. However, an empty disappointment filled me when I realized exactly what had happened:
Nothing.
---
Here's to the good life or so they say
All those parties and games that all those people play
They tell me this is the place to be
All these beautiful people and nothin' to see
Sometimes I feel like something is gone here
Something is wrong here, I don't belong here
Sometimes I feel like a stranger in town
And I've lost what I found, it'll all turn around
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you
In a little while I'll still be here without you
You never gave me a reason to doubt you
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you baby...I'll be thinkin' about you baby
On the other side of a coin
There's a face there's a memory somewhere that I can't erase
And there's a place that I find someday
But sometimes I feel like it's slippin' away
Sometimes I feel like something is gone here
Something is wrong here, I don't belong here
Sometimes I feel like a stranger in town
And I've lost what I found, it'll all turn around
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you
In a little while I'll still be here without you
You never gave me a reason to doubt you
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you baby...I'll be thinkin' about you baby
Some things are lost some left behind
Some things are better left for someone else to find
Maybe in time I can finally see
I just wonder, wonder if you think about me
Sometimes I feel like something is gone here
Something is wrong here, I don't belong here
Sometimes I feel like a stranger in town
And I've lost what I found, it'll all turn around*
*Uncle Cracker, In A Little While
---
I'm back... miss me too much? *grin* Anyway, my book's published. You can get it from indybook.com right now, or barnesandnoble.com (they're being asses and not putting the right version up yet though... grrr). Amazon's being stupid and not posting it as of yet, so... *shrug* I finished the second book (in two weeks), and I hope you all had very happy holidays and a great New Year. Happy Year of the Sheep to you all.
http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbnInquiry.asp?userid=2TFFBIFE78&vcqty=1&isbn=1932205063
http://www.indybook.com/indybookcom/item.asp?item_id=340
By the way, I didn't write the back of the book (part of which you can find on indybook.com). It cuts off... the rest should be something like "Together, they experience the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, until one fateful afternoon, Zac makes a choice that will change his life forever." Blah Blah Blah. I was pissed cuz my editor made it sound like HP or someting to begin with (which I can guarentee you, it's nothing like at all, beside the whole orphan thing). Anyway. *grin*
Aimée
---
I awoke in the rays of the late morning sun to the sound of heels clicking smartly against the tiled floor of my New York City high-rise flat. Bemusedly, I looked over toward the image of my most recent girlfriend, a beautiful woman with raven-hair whose name was neither important nor memorable. She was one in what had been nearly two dozen the past three years, someone I would scarcely remember a year from that day.
"It's over, James," she snapped, using the name I had become accustomed to. I wasn't sure as to how far the legacy Voldemort had left behind stretched, and I was in no way ready to deal with a witch or wizard who recognized me. I had spent nearly a third of a decade peacefully residing in one of the better flats of the city, courtesy of the inheritance my biological father had left me, and I wasn't willing to give up my location or privacy; therefore, the first time I had been asked my name—by a leggy blonde at a club I had since frequented often—I decided to use my father's name instead of the one I had been born with.
"Don't flatter yourself," I muttered into the pillow, closing my eyes and trying to will myself back to sleep. "It never started to begin with."
With a final huff, the woman pulled her heavy suitcase from the floor—one she had spent the past quarter of an hour packing—and clicked through the apartment and finally out of the door and my life forever. I didn't mind; she was just another face in the crowd, one who had never meant more to me than a trophy and a fuck.
With a sharp internal pain, Draco's face appeared suddenly in front of me, as if tattooed to the inner lids of my eyes. For so long, I had refused myself the privilege and luxury of thinking of him, but the promise I had made to him so long ago flashed through my mind as if it had been made only yesterday; one in which I promised him I would never sleep with anyone I didn't love.
Well, fuck me and call me a liar, I sighed, a pang of loneliness washing over me as I simply lay there, not knowing what else to do.
Why can't you be here? I moaned mentally, reaching out with all my might to touch his mind, despite my knowledge that it was impossible. The distance between us was too great; I couldn't read his thoughts and he couldn't read mine, I was sure of it.
My reasons for leaving three years previous had been glaringly obvious at the time, but as I lay there on the large, king-sized bed I had shared with so many others, I couldn't remember a single one. I had come to terms with my brother's death and had begrudgingly accepted the whole ordeal, and my motive for staying had now simply become a game; how long could I hold out until I cracked, from lack of family and human contact—real human contact, not the sex I could buy on a street corner for fifty American dollars.
With each passing day, I was sinking deeper and deeper into a life that held no meaning, one in which I slept all day and partied all night. On the rare occasion it shifted—such as that morning, when my girlfriend had finally decided the money simply wasn't worth putting up with my sour attitude and lack of enthusiasm for all that surrounded me—I rarely took notice. I was stuck in a life and I hadn't a clue how to live it.
Once again, I tried with all my might to reach out to the mind that I had once known so intimately, trying to catch even a glance of he whom I had craved for what I was certain to be a thousand lifetimes and beyond. All at once, I felt the faintest glimmer of a similar touch, and I knew he was aware I was thinking of him. Despite my desperation to see him once again, I shied away from his searching, not wanting him to be able to find me. I was far too ashamed of what I had done to him to even considering reconciling; I had first left him for a bitch of a woman and then had left the country, and for the past three years I had bedded dozens of women with no shame or remorse, no longer concerned with the rest of the world. All I concentrated on was not thinking of him, and on that warm fall morning, I finally gave in to temptation and allowed myself to remember exactly what being with Draco felt like.
It was much later in the day when I found myself wandering in to a small café across from the club I haunted every-other night, my mind cloudy and stomach rumbling its demands. I was due to meet a few friends I had made in the past years in less than an hour, and, as usual, I had neglected my hunger all morning and afternoon. The trio—all men in their early- to mid-twenties—were nothing more than people to hunt for that night's girl with, and I was content to keep it as such. They knew nothing about me—not even my last name—and I knew nothing about them, save their tastes in women and the ways in which each preferred their partner to bend and stretch whist in bed. It was a disgusting pastime, one I kept simply to humor the habit I had developed and my uneasiness for spending the nights alone.
After ordering from the busty waitress who had undoubtedly come to the Big City convinced she was to be the Next It Girl, I slid my hand into my jacket sleeve, where I hid my wand, and allowed Sam to poke her tiny green head out in bemused awareness.
"You eat far too little," she hissed, staring up at me with her unblinking eyes.
"I ordered a large meal," I lied, not wanting to fight with my pet for what was to be the umpteenth time over such a trivial thing as my food intake. She was happy and content, always either wrapped loosely around my forearm and hidden under my jacket or asleep in the bed I had arranged for her, set in a quiet corner of my flat.
"There is an owl," she said in a quite ordinary tone, turning her head toward the large glass window I sat next to. Shocked, I quickly turned to look toward the spot she was staring at, taking in the vision of a gray owl with a piece of parchment folded into a letter clutched within its talons.
"That's impossible," I insisted, speaking in parsel tongue strictly out of habit. "I don't know of any wizards or witches who live in North America."
The owl flew through the door leading in to the restaurant when an elderly man pushed it open, gliding directly toward me, content to simply drop the letter into the glass of water I had obtained. With a shocked look upon my face, I took the parchment out of the glass and shook it, relieved to find the only placed where liquid had touched had been an insignificant, unmarked corner.
With shaking hands and a feeling of queasiness rushing through me, I carefully undid the parchment and read the words written inside with great care, placing every word within my memory.
Harry,
I don't know how to begin to say how much I've missed you, but what I first must do is to make sure you know I am in no way angered with you. I don't care about the past, and haven't for the past three years. It's been far too long, Harry, and I assure you I am not to only one who misses you.
A strange thing happened this afternoon, an event you could perhaps shed some light upon. I was in the middle of teaching my fourth-years all about the famous Harry Potter and his run in with the Evil Lord Voldemort (cue the dramatic music, if you please), when I felt a flutter against my mind. My Ravenclaws were quite shocked when I stopped mid-sentence and ran out of the room; after all, it's been far too long, and I would never miss a chance to hear from you.
You were trying to contact me today; don't deny it, we both know it was there. I've missed you, Harry, and I'll do everything in my power to see you again. However, I know you've felt as if you're not worthy of me; the opposite is true, but it is a free country and you are allowed to think whatever pleases that insatiable mind of yours. I need to know if you want to see me again, for Merlin knows I need to see you more than anything else in the world right now.
A simple nod will do.
D.
With mixed emotions, both humor from the rushed manner in which the letter was composed and complete shock, I turned to inspect each of the café's customers, trying to find the blonde-haired man I had spent so many years with. A red haired woman—a dark haired Middle Eastern man—a brunette woman—none matched. Wildly, I looked out the window, but once again my search proved futile.
Finally, at a lose of what else to do, I nodded my consent, closing my eyes and holding my breath for as long as I dared.
When I finally opened my eyes once more, I half-expected to see the face of Draco Malfoy placed in front of me. However, an empty disappointment filled me when I realized exactly what had happened:
Nothing.
---
Here's to the good life or so they say
All those parties and games that all those people play
They tell me this is the place to be
All these beautiful people and nothin' to see
Sometimes I feel like something is gone here
Something is wrong here, I don't belong here
Sometimes I feel like a stranger in town
And I've lost what I found, it'll all turn around
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you
In a little while I'll still be here without you
You never gave me a reason to doubt you
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you baby...I'll be thinkin' about you baby
On the other side of a coin
There's a face there's a memory somewhere that I can't erase
And there's a place that I find someday
But sometimes I feel like it's slippin' away
Sometimes I feel like something is gone here
Something is wrong here, I don't belong here
Sometimes I feel like a stranger in town
And I've lost what I found, it'll all turn around
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you
In a little while I'll still be here without you
You never gave me a reason to doubt you
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you baby...I'll be thinkin' about you baby
Some things are lost some left behind
Some things are better left for someone else to find
Maybe in time I can finally see
I just wonder, wonder if you think about me
Sometimes I feel like something is gone here
Something is wrong here, I don't belong here
Sometimes I feel like a stranger in town
And I've lost what I found, it'll all turn around*
*Uncle Cracker, In A Little While