Percy slammed the door to the dormitory behind him as he entered. Damn
bigot Slytherins. He thought back angrily on his lesson. In History of
Magic, they'd discussed famous homosexual wizards including a Viking mage
named Vintor the Strong, the Minister of Magic fifty years previously named
Byron Toffen (This had excited Percy the most. He really did have a chance
at being Minister!), and the inventor of portkeys, Sir Isaac Sommers, to
name a few. People had mad rude remarks throughout the entire class,
culminating in a suggestion by Marcus Flint that Dumbledore himself was
gay. Sure, however satisfying it had been to see Slytherin house lose 40
points, the fact remained that it was for Flint saying, "I bet Dumbledore's
a queer, too. Probably has stitches in that wrinkly old arse." Besides
being a decidedly bad image, it had left Percy even more frightened of
coming out to the Wizarding World. He couldn't take it anymore, he just
couldn't. He reached under his bed and pulled out the box, and the towel.
Then he climbed into bed and pulled the curtains around him, securing them
with a handy spell he'd learned to keep them closed. Then he opened the
box to reveal some hydrogen peroxide, some bandages, and some antibiotic
cream, all purchased, again, from a Muggle store. It was amazing all the
things they'd done without even having magic, he mused. He removed his
trousers and folded them, then pulled up the right leg of his navy blue
undershorts. He'd never liked the word 'boxers'. Reaching over to the
robes he'd just discarded, he felt around until finally pulling out his
wand. This was one of his favorite parts of the ceremony. Holding the
wooden idol up close to his face, he whispered, "Lacerae."
Immediately the end of his wand began to change shape. It grew slimmer and began to glint sliver, and within seconds it had made the transformation from wand to razor-sharp cutting blade. Percy sighed. It was truly a beautiful thing to watch. But then his concept of beauty had always been a bit abstruse. For example... He gripped the wand and dug it into his leg, sliding it with ease along his pale skin. Aaah, so pretty. At first he just saw the white flesh, newly-exposed by his slice of glory. Then, gradually, the small valley began to fill with blood. The river of red slid gracefully through the canyon of skin, and eventually began to overflow. Droplets began to clump together, and large mounds of red spilled over the top of the self-inflicted wound. He wiped them with his towel before making another cut, this time taking his sweet time. It was always satisfying to go more slowly, feel the burning sting caress his body. Maybe it hurt just a little, but the point was that now, he controlled the pain. Again and again he nurtured his soul and scalded his flesh, or was it the other way around? He was so high on this feeling of both ultimate control and ultimate loss of control he couldn't remember his own name. All he knew was that it all felt so good, so savagely good, he didn't want to stop. But eventually he did. Placing a fresh pad to soak up any extra blood that had escaped his towel, Percy tenderly wrapped his calf with a long strip of linen before securing it with a good knot. He put all his ingredients back into the box and parted the curtains to slide both box and towel back under his bed.
Immediately the end of his wand began to change shape. It grew slimmer and began to glint sliver, and within seconds it had made the transformation from wand to razor-sharp cutting blade. Percy sighed. It was truly a beautiful thing to watch. But then his concept of beauty had always been a bit abstruse. For example... He gripped the wand and dug it into his leg, sliding it with ease along his pale skin. Aaah, so pretty. At first he just saw the white flesh, newly-exposed by his slice of glory. Then, gradually, the small valley began to fill with blood. The river of red slid gracefully through the canyon of skin, and eventually began to overflow. Droplets began to clump together, and large mounds of red spilled over the top of the self-inflicted wound. He wiped them with his towel before making another cut, this time taking his sweet time. It was always satisfying to go more slowly, feel the burning sting caress his body. Maybe it hurt just a little, but the point was that now, he controlled the pain. Again and again he nurtured his soul and scalded his flesh, or was it the other way around? He was so high on this feeling of both ultimate control and ultimate loss of control he couldn't remember his own name. All he knew was that it all felt so good, so savagely good, he didn't want to stop. But eventually he did. Placing a fresh pad to soak up any extra blood that had escaped his towel, Percy tenderly wrapped his calf with a long strip of linen before securing it with a good knot. He put all his ingredients back into the box and parted the curtains to slide both box and towel back under his bed.
