Warnings: Harry Potter and Crew belong to J.K. Rowling, I make no profit
Some of the writing may come out disfigured, I apologize
I do not own the poem at the end, or Shakespeare's writing
Also, I do not have a Beta Reader for this, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes. If you find some, please tell me in your review.
~Chapters will be coming out once a week, every Monday, unless my muse fails me and it takes a bit longer.~
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miles militis ab perditio: Yes, I'm a slash fan, though I don't know if I'll incorporate it fully into this story. As you see, Harry is going through a bit of a dark period, and as the chapters go on, you'll find out how his heart is incased in dark. If he can't love his friends, how can he truly love someone as a partner? Not to say that slash won't be implied. If you're weary of any heated romantic scenes, there most likely won't be any. Are you by any chance a fan of Tolkien or Anne Rice? If so, then and such relationship between Draco or Harry would be more of a relationship like Frodo and Sam, Lestat and Louis, etc. I hope that just because of my preferences you won't discontinue with my story, and I hope you will stick with it though we may vary on opinions of like and dislikes.
Striped_jaguar: A reviewer who talks in the third person! Oh I could hug you! Stripes is very enthusiastic and is forgiven by Remii for forgetting to review. Remii is oh so glad that Stripes decided to review the next day, and caught her newest chapter! [Which Remii must admit that out of the 4 done, #2 is her least favorite.] If Stripes likes chapter #1, then she will most definitely appreciate chapter #3, and chapter #4, [chapter #4 working its way up to my favorite].
Seems Dumbledore is annoying many people lately, no? He's irked me. And I must admit, that out of all the characters, I really don't know how to write Dumbledore, who, for all his appearances in the books, isn't that much developed and described. It's just easy to make him hate able. Ache be satisfied! For here is the newest chapter! Thanks for your wonderful long review, and I love you too!
legion1: All praise the holy crap! Sorry. Couldn't resist. I can just picture a wad of turd with a little halo over it, shining golden light. Or maybe Mr. Hanky is in my mind? I'm so happy you love the story! [I love being loved, and I love you for loving me, and hopefully you will love me for loving you, and we'll just love each other!] Whoooo. Too much Chicago. Anyways, I'm glad you enjoy my story, because I write it for you! [Okay..so myself also/mostly..but I post it for your enjoyment!] Harry's new form makes me happy. I've always wanted to see him with wings! Thats whats so great about writing your own stories...making Harry have wings!
Updated every Monday! Hope you read and review and enjoy immensely!
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Chapter Three: Hymn Of Persephone
Æternus Noctem
Harry walked briskly from the Great Hall, putting as much distance between himself and the incredulous stares of those behind him. He turned left in the corridor, not quite sure where his feet were taking him, only happy to get away from the accusing eyes; not that he hadn't brought it upon himself. He was fool, caught upon the blind fury of the moment. He would have to be more careful when in contact with his professors, not that he would be having much contact with them.
The hall he turned down was dimly lit, casting shadow forms to creep after him as he walked the corridor. Harry instantly liked it, the shallow wall and ceiling reminding him so of the inn he had resided in after his trip to the heart of Diagon Alley.
//Her breath, once pants of effort, slowed to calm intakes of air, fresh for the first time in her many years....//
Harry cried out. She haunted him; he freed her and still she haunted him. Was her spirit so disturbed as to taunt her savior from his sanity, following his footsteps, trailing him, 'till she split the crystal of his own mind? Was it to be so? Him fated to kill her over and over again, feeling her raspy breath against his chest, her shallow intakes of air until her lungs ceased to be used, tumbling her into oblivion?
A sharp pain burst forth from his hand causing Harry to halt amidst the darkened corridor. Fresh blood leaked from small wounds upon his palm, tiny glass pieces slicing his flesh. So. It was to be. Harry clenched his hand, not healing his wounds, letting them scar for his newest sin. She made her mark upon him like so many others, reminding him, haunting him forever. How long until his body was no longer his own? How long until he had enough lives on his soul to diminish into nothing, scars the only reminiscent of the human form he once took?
Eadem hissed softly in the dark, his perch upon Harry's right forearm. A soft response was heard in reply and Harry drew his attention to the painting adjourning the hall. Little could he see, but with a small spell of light extending from his pointer finger, he could make out the outline of a fiery red snake mounted in the painting.
"Bright.." it hissed mournfully, hiding behind the grandfather clock that too was in the picture.
"My apologies," Harry spoke, putting out the light instantly.
The snake appeared back from it's hiding place, the moonlight of the solitary window illuminating it's golden eyes and slit pupils. Harry fondly traced his hand along the wooden frame of the painting to rest between the intersection on the frame and stone wall behind it. He smirked as he felt the cool air breeze against his fingers, exiting from the back of the painting.
"This is a room, isn't it? Harry took a step back, examining the painting.
"Yesssss. What'sss it to you? No one comess here ever." Bright golden eyes narrowed in suspicion, tongue flicking out to smell the air.
"Would you open it?"
"To you?" the snake climbed about the sides of the clock, entering into a hole and resting upon the long rusted pendulum, gently oscillating back and forth to a hushed ticking.
"Yes, us," Harry indicated to Eadem, still firmly latched around his arm.
"Hogwartss ssssssstudentss, yessssss? Go to your housssesss." the snake closed his eyes, lost in the hypnotic sway.
"We don't have a house. Not anymore. Let us reside here for the year?" If all else failed, Harry would have to go back to Gryffindor Tower, or spend the rest of the night in some abandoned classroom, neither appealing choices.
"Rebelsss? Yessssssss? Company..." The snake opened one eye to gaze critically over Harry and Eadem, closing it in his decision.
Harry had to step back as the door swung open, revealing an empty room of black where the uncovered windows' light did not reach.
"Passsssword?" the snake asked as the door teetered in it's place and closed abruptly, locking Harry in darkness.
Harry stood for a moment in contemplation, gazing about his new dwelling. "Persephone," he whispered.
The room's gloom reached to Harry's heart and he hesitated. The grime and dust wasn't something he was about to rejoice in sleeping upon. Extending his arms above him, Harry pictured the room as he imagined a room of his choice would be. Opening his eyes he smiled in relief. Everything was how he wanted it to be, perfect in his eyes. Thin green curtains covered the windows, casting an emerald glow onto the new desk below them. He had a carpet, not accustomed to the cool of the stone beneath his bare feet in the morning, of a cream color, long and soft to tread on. The center of the room held a long thin glass table, a dragon breathing fire etched upon its features. His ancient books on Alchemy piled atop it, a single red, black and white candle centered around and on the books. The red-orange glow the fire cast around the lit the room, amplifying the candles and moonlight, pleasantly contrasting to Harry's dark materials. His bed was on the adjacent wall to the left of the fire, covered in silk sheets and a comforter of a deep ocean blue, the silver lining as foam to a breaking wave.
Harry smiled and sat upon his light gray couch, sinking into the yielding cushions, finally off his feet and comfortable. With only a few additions of a closet for his clothes to be placed into and his old school trunk at the foot of his bed, it's crest a red snake curving around a blooded dagger, his room now complete. Harry stood, not able to be in the pleasant atmosphere with his cloak upon his back. Carefully, as not to hurt himself more, he pried it from his sweaty shoulders, hanging it in the closet. With the hardest trial complete, Harry easily magicked his black shirt off his body and onto his bed. He folded it, the process drilled into his head from his years of servantry at the Dursleys, and placed it on one of the shelves in the closet. Even with his ever present tattoos along his upper body, his muscles from the many years of Quidditch practice and hard labor during the summer, were hard to miss. Nothing bulging, but firm and obviously there.
Eadem hissed his approval, causing a small blush to tint Harry's cheeks at the compliment. Never before had anyone so much as given him a second look unless to gaze endlessly at his scar. His scar. It was the one thing that Harry wouldn't mind the loss of, his emerald eyes of his mother the biggest pain present in his heart. Humanity hadn't understood his hate of publicity, nor would they even try. He was their hero, he understood, but it didn't necessarily lead to the want of fame and fortune. Especially if it barricaded him against knowing other people, awed and too legendary to approach: disgusting and needy, a disgrace and arrogant boy. His world was purged in black and white, two sides to himself, no one daring to find the skin underneath the bindings, the true person, free of critiques, free of articles, free of fame and heroism. Him. The orphaned abused boy who's name was Harry Potter. Who didn't know what magic was. What wizards were, Hogwarts, wands. Who didn't know who Voldemort was.
With a quick look to Eadem, who was watching him in rapture, the first time seeing him, Harry pulled off his pants. Really seeing him, his physical scars from his cousin, uncle, bully's at his elementary school who thought he was too small. Too weak. It was the first time anyone would see his whole body, the pale hallow skin that would never tan, the firm and sculpted, yet slightly withered body that wouldn't gain weight, all due to his lack of food as a child. With his pants gone, Harry removed his boxers, not used to sleeping with any clothing on.
Eadem didn't comment, feeling Harry's deeply ridden insecurities about himself. He only moved closer to the wall as Harry lifted the blankets off his bed and slipped under them. He sighed, staring up into the dark of his ceiling, not tired, not bored, nothing. Harry smiled suddenly, stepping out of the bed to sit upon the covers. He raised his hands together, clasping them parallel to his chest and chanted.
"Æthra ne ad relegare absque di Gaeia...speculumar incilco ea occludo lacunar....tempus defluo, transitus ui exemplum....Emanio excituom manus ea valui ad nonvere caelum!" Harry raised his hands, glowing with almost unrestricted light of all the colors combined, standing upon his bed. He lifted them over his hand and with all his might flung the orb to his ceiling, hands pushing the sphere to imbed itself into the stone, mingling with the castle itself. When all the light had faded from sight, Harry watched with his new vision the magic he created combine with the magic flowing through the veins of the stone's in his room, gathering at the center and exploding to go shooting out into every crevice. He slumped into his bed, glad he had finish everything he wanted to with his room. Overhead, his ceiling, like that to which the Great Hall's did, reflected the sky outside his room, stars shining and dulling in the dark blue of the atmosphere, winking at him with every turn of his head.
Shifting in bed, Harry's eyes stayed open, running in-between, on, and over each star in the galaxy, not half his energy drained from such a powerful spell. He was restless, and his wings had started fluttering again, reminding him of his subtle use of them. He hadn't flown for so long. Not since Medlock's house, and even then that was only to learn. Never had he flown for the enjoyment of flying like he did with his broom. Harry closed his eyes in rhapsody, feeling the wind blow against his body, through his clothes to tickle his skin. Wind blowing through his face and hair, sighing as it met with his hard body, challenging him to control himself in the never-ending whirlwind. Challenging him to stay with the river's writhing course in the sky, taking him in it's grip to roll about the heavens, not wanting to land upon the ground ever again, so caught up in his utter delightment.
Harry sat up in bed. He needed to fly. His blood sang beneath his skin, tempting him into giving into the utter ecstasy of flight. His wings beat against his back along with his blood, flowing about him, creating a torrent of wind to arise in his room, blowing out the candles on his table, his fire hissing as it was hit with the air. He stood from his bed and walked over to the window, wrenching it open. His warm body was hit with the cool flow of air from outside, stinging with the contact, fire against ice. Looking down, Harry noted with happiness the great drop his his window to the ground and leapt out.
Falling seemed like eternity to Harry. His back faced the ground, arms dangled in front of his head, clasped together, his legs rising with the push of the air from his increasing descent. As he felt the ground nearing upon him, Harry let out one ragged breath. He could end it all now. Let go, be free. Traitorously, inches from the ground, Harry's wings spread out full length, catching the wind beneath them and stopping him, hovering just above the rich green grass. He let his hands go, throwing them down against his sides, his wings mocking his movements, sending him hurling backwards, just brushing the grass below him, flying into the dark of the Forbidden Forest. Minutes past as Harry rushed past the trees, flying between branches quicker than he'd ever gone before. He flew directly in the path of an upcoming tree, twirling in his flight for his stomach to face the ground; flying upwards along the bark, centimeters from contact.
He burst from the tree line of the forest, leaves dancing around him from being uprooted from their bodies. They were caught in the dance of his flight upward, the motion flinging them about Harry's body, twirling as they lost momentum, gliding back down to their homes. Harry flew onward, up and up into the dark sky, his naked body catching the rays of the moon smiling upon him, his wings, for the first time since appearing on his body, shimmered from a black to pure white. He reached his left arm towards the silver sphere, pointer finger extended to fondly trace it's surface before he stilled his wings. He plummeted back towards the Earth, spiraling in his drop, lone arm raised above his body, the other clutching at his heart. Stretching his wings to their utmost length he slowed his fall, floating back down to the grounds of Hogwarts, his cage.
Harry laid upon the terra firma, blinking up into the sky, his arms stretched out resting upon his wings, looking to all like a fallen angel from the Welkin above. He closed his eyes from the world, relishing in the exhilaration his flight had just brought him. His body hummed for the first time in a long time, his blood danced through his veins, adrenaline coursing from head to toe, his brain complete mush in his head, only knowing his contentment. He laid there upon the dirt, the stones, grass, mud, everything. He laid upon the living creatures in the ground beneath him, worming their way to their small nests in the soil. He laid upon the existence of the world, it's core pulsing underneath him, sparking him with life. He laid upon the hand of the galaxy, cradled in it's warmth, it's angelic glow, it's appraising smile. For hours Harry stayed lying without a care in the world until the golden sun peaked from behind the horizon, waking the birds and animals, reminding him of his life outside this ecstasy.
Reluctantly, and with one last kiss goodbye to the earth below him, Harry rose from his sleep, flying back to his bedroom window and into his school, his sadness, grief, pain, sorrow, and loss all coming back to him. As he left to gather his clothes and head to his personal bathroom, Harry's wings ruffled, changing from their pearl white to a dull gray, and finally his piercing wounded black.
He took his time getting dressed, not wanting to be confronted with the people he once smiled about. Had they recognized him? Or had they merely dismissed him as a somebody to avoid? Did they even care?
He sighed, donning his black pants, black shirt, and with great averse, his concealment cloak. Eadem opened his eyes, not yet wanting to move about, yet feeling Harry fix the bed, feeling his day begin. He felt Harry's loath to wear the cloak and went to his Differo, presenting himself as some sort of comfort in Harry's pain. Harry greatly accepted Eadem onto his body; already freeing some of the stress he had gathered in the short time he was back in the castle. As uneager as he was, Harry left his room after uttering a good morning to the painting, memorizing his way through the corridors, intent on remembering how to return back.
The Great Hall was alive with students, all eating to their heart's content, enjoying the conversations with their fellow school dwellers, comparing schedules. Harry stood by the doors, determined to make an appearance. He lifted his hands to lay them on the grand mahogany doors, then pushed them open, halting the talking of the students. He strode purposely a few feet, announcing to all who missed that he was there, not leaving them quite yet. A few girls cried out at seeing him, his presence masking their happiness in place of utter terror. Harry let himself smirk at the scared faces, knowing it wouldn't be hard to attain their hate.
At the Gryffindor table, Hermione and Ron made a place for him to sit, waving him over, hoping he would join them. To their disappointment, Harry just nodded his greetings, then turned away. He looked about the Great Hall, not wanting to sit with anyone else, yet hungry for the first time in months. Choosing a corner to the left of the doors, he conjured a table and chairs for him to sit at, undisturbed by his fellows in their chatter and eating. Dumbledore watched him from his perch at the head of the Teacher's Table, swishing his wand beneath the table for no one to see, indicating to the House Elves to bring food to the newest table. With a resound sigh, it was the least he could do for Harry.
Harry was a bit surprised when he sat down, greeted by food popping up at his table, plates and cups appearing for his use, a jug of Pumpkin Juice fresh by his side. He took a piece of toast and placed it on his plate, pouring himself a cup of juice when two shadows fell upon the table. Harry reprimanded himself for not feeling the people coming towards him, distracted by his slight hunger. He looked up and controlled himself not to open his mouth in shock; Draco and Blaise stood at his side momentarily before they sat in the two seats at his left and right, stacking their plates with food from his table.
Taking courage from Draco and Blaise's actions, Hermione and Ron stood from Gryffindor Table, walking over to seat themselves in the last two unoccupied seats at Harry's new table. Harry panicked at seeing the people around him. They didn't understand what they were doing. None of them understood the consequences of being around him! He quickly pushed his chair backwards, intent on rising to leave, but Draco and Blaise grasped his arms, pushing him back into his seat.
"Harry, stay," Draco commanded, his arm still holding Harry to his seat, his free one cutting his pancakes with his fork and eating. Hermione all but laughed at Harry's confusion at Draco's order. Still more confused when he complied, resting himself into the seat and picking up his piece of toast. They hardly understood the consequences that would be administered to them. He could already feel Dumbledore's uneasy opinion of having four of his student's seated at a potential enemy's table, as hard as he tried to mask it.
Eadem slinked out of Harry's robe, intent on finding a morsel of food to eat, his body needing the replenishment of nutrients Harry's small appetite restricted him to. Draco took no hesitation on putting some scrambled eggs on a small dish and setting it in front of Eadem, accompanied by another small bowl filled with pumpkin juice. Harry hardly moved as he watched Eadem expose himself to the four students, his identity made known to their presence.
"What are you doing?" Harry quietly asked Eadem, hoping against hope that his love would enter back into his cloak and his current companions forget they saw him.
"I am hungry, Parssssss. Differo forgetss to feed Eadem. Yessssss. Dragon givess Eadem food for nourissssshment."
"Dragon?" Harry looked to Eadem, puzzled for the first time since he was united with the snake.
"Yesssss. Bright Dragon next to you, Differo. He meanssssss no harm. Smellss ssssweet." Eadem moved to Draco's side, earning a stifled gasp from the blonde and Harry's eyes boring into his. He ignored Harry for the time being, intent on confirming any doubts as to his belief in Draco. With a soft hiss and slow movements, he eased himself onto Draco's frozen arm, twining himself around it, then gazing into Draco's startled gray eyes. "Intentionsssss pure. Like him, Eadem doesss. Ssssurely Differo doess as well?"
Harry stood abruptly from his seat, his chair falling to the floor with a dull thud in his hurried movements. Another betrayal. Eadem had dared to enter into the mind of another. Harry felt, with impending loss, that the one he believed in, cherished; sought after in all his hardships, he loved; had touched, connected albeit for an instant, with another; causing his heart to shatter.
"So be it. I understand now, Eadem. I go." Harry moved to walk away, being caught in his own web of sorrow and grief. Never before had he felt so empty, a shell, hallowed. If Eadem chose to bond with another, it was a fight he couldn't parry, it hitting too close to the tissue of his soul not yet healed. Utter emptiness swarmed him, he was black, sickeningly dark, Eadem's bright light in the back of his mind fluttering in it's brilliance.
"Ssssstop, Differo. You have not yet to undersstand. I have not yet to explain. Love isss ssstill sstrong, no? Don't walk away. Not yet. Not ssso sssssoon."
Harry halted in his movements. Eadem...hadn't just left? Stayed with him? But all were doomed to leave him, this Harry knew. It was a short time before Eadem discovered another, perhaps a stronger bond with Draco, and decided to disconnect all ties to Harry. It was a short time before his friends journeyed along the same path tread by his deceived parents. Walked by his godfather. Familiarized by his professors. Too short of a time had he before they all left. All discovered his horrible secret and ran. Too short.
"Sit down this instant, Potter, and try to absorb some protein, and fat, into that frail corpse you call a body." Draco had stood beside Harry, watching the boy fight himself, denying, and complying to his traitorous thoughts. All at the table had seen his eyes flicker from their color to a dull brown, hardening to a black, and once again flaring to life as a piercing blood red. Harry raised his head slowly, a pained look of a man discovering the sins of his life and realizing his destruction, upon his face, opened for the first time since he arrived at the school. His feelings, once hidden behind his hate were present, showing the utter loss and saddened terror of his acceptance, his heart on his sleeve for any about him to ruin.
"Harry," Draco spoke softly, expressing all his hope and kindness into saying that one name. Harry looked longingly into Draco's eyes for a second; connecting with his mind and voicing everything he couldn't speak. Draco dropped to his seat, his eyes wide and troubled, his mind experiencing the overwhelming emotions Harry had unloaded onto him.
"I need...to go. I must go." Harry, as if in a daze, walked with a slight fault to his steps, a drunken dance grabbing hold of his body. He reached the door's of the Great Hall and leaned against them, his palm lying aside the cool hard wood, fingers tingling with power to open the door.
He breathed in the sweet air of the outside when his feet finally left the hard stone ground of the school, the few chains around him breaking as the extended his arms to the sky. Last night played heavenly in his mind, pulling him, hands surrounding his body, lifting him to embrace the fair sky. How he longed to shred his clothes and dance under the full moon as a child of the night, a faerie to his faerie-ring, dancing his magic into the earth, freeing his heart as he spun a web of enchantment to the star-kissed flowers. Oh how he longed to rid himself of his mind for a short time. Cradle the shining tears of the midnight sky, dance along the streams of the wind.
But now was not his time to forget. Early morning it was and students were milling about, venturing from breakfast to classes, starting their day in their safe haven, unaware of all the trials of the outside world. Unaware of his immoral demise. How now? To be wrought in time, stuck in this gaping puckering wound of immortal life. How now was he to smile at the memories of long ago, to free himself of all evil and continue on with his life? It seemed he was not to meet a happy end, to live the life those children dreamed of, gazing out their windows long hours after their parents ordered them to bed, imagining a world of princes and dragons, of rescues and love; falling to sleep with the cool night air tickling their skin. Heaven smite his worldly dreams! Send lightening crashing to his ground, burning the earth he stood on, smoting his wonders, his wishes. Leaving only behind his revenge and hate, his anger and scorn, his loss and prayer for it all to end. Yet too cowardly was he to end it for himself, too powerful was he to give in to those of less. Too in despair to realize anything of worth.
Harry looked to the highest tower of the school, gazing at it's curves, picturing the perfect cushioned beds inside, laughing teenagers gathering their books to start learning, intent on being educated, intend on seeing their friends. How he longed to be one of them. A nobody. Nothing of importance. He faced away from the Forbidden Forest, knowing that too long his gaze was on it, the less control he had of himself and immerse himself within it's confines. The library would be his learning ground, Dumbledore and classes be damned. He would find his sanctuary, find his cure from Voldemort and all who opposed him.
He entered into the school once again, noticing a tiny prickle against his skin, indicating that Dumbledore hoped to keep tabs on his person. Smirking to himself, careful to tread along the shadows in concealment, he sent out a high focused energy pulse, sending it forth to Dumbledore and whatever his object of his sight was. He was satisfied to feel a crack and shattering in the back of his mind, knowing that Dumbledore was unsuccessful on following him, the prickle of his skin gone.
Hermione and Ron searched about the hallway, hoping one last glimpse of Harry before they left to class. He had not the heart to disappoint them, and stepped into the light, nodding his head in his departure, and walking up the stairs to the library. Hermione smiled slightly, knowing that Harry could have hidden himself completely, leaving them to walk away in sadness without his presence. And yet, he had shown himself to their benefit, risked something within himself on letting them know he was there. Always there. Letting himself be known.
"All my love to you, Harry Potter. All my love and friendship to be known, to you!" Hermione called out, smiling at Harry who had paused on the stairs. His frame had trembled slightly with her declaration, and she was filled with joy to know that though he had tried to deny her, he could never deny her confession of her love for him, knowing that he would always have the truth, knowing he could not dismiss it as farfetched longing. Ron looked puzzled to Hermione who stood at the base of the stairs, immobile in her thoughts. Even more so puzzled when a tear cascaded down her cheek, her eyes smiling at Harry's retreating back, her tears bright with a shine instead of caught with sorrow.
"Come, Hermione. We'll be late." Ron extended his arm to her, smiling warmly as she grasped her hand around him. Everything would somehow work out, she would see. Harry was not too far gone for them. Never too far gone for his friends to plunge in to whatever depths it took and reach out their hands to help him come back. This Ron was sure of. No matter the cause, Harry would be with them again, not feeding off the realm of darkness he had become accustomed to, but embracing the radiant glow of the light with his friends surrounding him, helping him along.
HYMN OF PERSEPHONE
Wild blow the winds on this black night -
laughter shrieking within my dumb ears.
A baying of dogs, the sound of horns, the mad light
of the moon blazing on a plain empty and fierce:
here is where I make my halt. My white feet
writhe on the grass, seeking a soothing peat.
The raw soles kiss blade. White burns red, It is the nothing-space to which I have fled.
And the god is about: which mercy will he bring,
the ecstasy of the arrow, the sweet death's-bed?
This mad poet would sing.
Death is in every gift. Do not fight
the glance, the sharp kiss, the sweet metal tears
of rain falling on midwinter's blight -
This soft sobbing patter is all the soul hears.
Dark plains of the night, where my mouth might beat
from its chest; throbbing; where my mouth might eat
stranger foods: nectar, ambrosia, toadstool-bread,
accepting dark hell with delighted dread.
Love of my masked lord is a frightening thing:
The ground near my feet is soaked where I've bled;
This mad poet would sing.
This hell-token coiled about my neck (Now invite
what's beyond the mask to the body mask-worn)
Here in this wood, mosses of malachite
entwine tressy roots along granite spears,
a gasping coitus is what makes me complete;
thick honey drips to mingle with the blood at my feet.
I give up myself. My light glows where I have spread,
my hair tosses - and an ancient figurehead,
an oracle, a wild prophet, I scream -The moon is bleeding
but none perceive. These words stay unsaid.
This mad poet would sing.
A/N: No, this is not a Harry/Hermione story. Her love for him is pure and that of a friend.
Some of the writing may come out disfigured, I apologize
I do not own the poem at the end, or Shakespeare's writing
Also, I do not have a Beta Reader for this, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes. If you find some, please tell me in your review.
~Chapters will be coming out once a week, every Monday, unless my muse fails me and it takes a bit longer.~
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miles militis ab perditio: Yes, I'm a slash fan, though I don't know if I'll incorporate it fully into this story. As you see, Harry is going through a bit of a dark period, and as the chapters go on, you'll find out how his heart is incased in dark. If he can't love his friends, how can he truly love someone as a partner? Not to say that slash won't be implied. If you're weary of any heated romantic scenes, there most likely won't be any. Are you by any chance a fan of Tolkien or Anne Rice? If so, then and such relationship between Draco or Harry would be more of a relationship like Frodo and Sam, Lestat and Louis, etc. I hope that just because of my preferences you won't discontinue with my story, and I hope you will stick with it though we may vary on opinions of like and dislikes.
Striped_jaguar: A reviewer who talks in the third person! Oh I could hug you! Stripes is very enthusiastic and is forgiven by Remii for forgetting to review. Remii is oh so glad that Stripes decided to review the next day, and caught her newest chapter! [Which Remii must admit that out of the 4 done, #2 is her least favorite.] If Stripes likes chapter #1, then she will most definitely appreciate chapter #3, and chapter #4, [chapter #4 working its way up to my favorite].
Seems Dumbledore is annoying many people lately, no? He's irked me. And I must admit, that out of all the characters, I really don't know how to write Dumbledore, who, for all his appearances in the books, isn't that much developed and described. It's just easy to make him hate able. Ache be satisfied! For here is the newest chapter! Thanks for your wonderful long review, and I love you too!
legion1: All praise the holy crap! Sorry. Couldn't resist. I can just picture a wad of turd with a little halo over it, shining golden light. Or maybe Mr. Hanky is in my mind? I'm so happy you love the story! [I love being loved, and I love you for loving me, and hopefully you will love me for loving you, and we'll just love each other!] Whoooo. Too much Chicago. Anyways, I'm glad you enjoy my story, because I write it for you! [Okay..so myself also/mostly..but I post it for your enjoyment!] Harry's new form makes me happy. I've always wanted to see him with wings! Thats whats so great about writing your own stories...making Harry have wings!
Updated every Monday! Hope you read and review and enjoy immensely!
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Chapter Three: Hymn Of Persephone
Æternus Noctem
Harry walked briskly from the Great Hall, putting as much distance between himself and the incredulous stares of those behind him. He turned left in the corridor, not quite sure where his feet were taking him, only happy to get away from the accusing eyes; not that he hadn't brought it upon himself. He was fool, caught upon the blind fury of the moment. He would have to be more careful when in contact with his professors, not that he would be having much contact with them.
The hall he turned down was dimly lit, casting shadow forms to creep after him as he walked the corridor. Harry instantly liked it, the shallow wall and ceiling reminding him so of the inn he had resided in after his trip to the heart of Diagon Alley.
//Her breath, once pants of effort, slowed to calm intakes of air, fresh for the first time in her many years....//
Harry cried out. She haunted him; he freed her and still she haunted him. Was her spirit so disturbed as to taunt her savior from his sanity, following his footsteps, trailing him, 'till she split the crystal of his own mind? Was it to be so? Him fated to kill her over and over again, feeling her raspy breath against his chest, her shallow intakes of air until her lungs ceased to be used, tumbling her into oblivion?
A sharp pain burst forth from his hand causing Harry to halt amidst the darkened corridor. Fresh blood leaked from small wounds upon his palm, tiny glass pieces slicing his flesh. So. It was to be. Harry clenched his hand, not healing his wounds, letting them scar for his newest sin. She made her mark upon him like so many others, reminding him, haunting him forever. How long until his body was no longer his own? How long until he had enough lives on his soul to diminish into nothing, scars the only reminiscent of the human form he once took?
Eadem hissed softly in the dark, his perch upon Harry's right forearm. A soft response was heard in reply and Harry drew his attention to the painting adjourning the hall. Little could he see, but with a small spell of light extending from his pointer finger, he could make out the outline of a fiery red snake mounted in the painting.
"Bright.." it hissed mournfully, hiding behind the grandfather clock that too was in the picture.
"My apologies," Harry spoke, putting out the light instantly.
The snake appeared back from it's hiding place, the moonlight of the solitary window illuminating it's golden eyes and slit pupils. Harry fondly traced his hand along the wooden frame of the painting to rest between the intersection on the frame and stone wall behind it. He smirked as he felt the cool air breeze against his fingers, exiting from the back of the painting.
"This is a room, isn't it? Harry took a step back, examining the painting.
"Yesssss. What'sss it to you? No one comess here ever." Bright golden eyes narrowed in suspicion, tongue flicking out to smell the air.
"Would you open it?"
"To you?" the snake climbed about the sides of the clock, entering into a hole and resting upon the long rusted pendulum, gently oscillating back and forth to a hushed ticking.
"Yes, us," Harry indicated to Eadem, still firmly latched around his arm.
"Hogwartss ssssssstudentss, yessssss? Go to your housssesss." the snake closed his eyes, lost in the hypnotic sway.
"We don't have a house. Not anymore. Let us reside here for the year?" If all else failed, Harry would have to go back to Gryffindor Tower, or spend the rest of the night in some abandoned classroom, neither appealing choices.
"Rebelsss? Yessssssss? Company..." The snake opened one eye to gaze critically over Harry and Eadem, closing it in his decision.
Harry had to step back as the door swung open, revealing an empty room of black where the uncovered windows' light did not reach.
"Passsssword?" the snake asked as the door teetered in it's place and closed abruptly, locking Harry in darkness.
Harry stood for a moment in contemplation, gazing about his new dwelling. "Persephone," he whispered.
The room's gloom reached to Harry's heart and he hesitated. The grime and dust wasn't something he was about to rejoice in sleeping upon. Extending his arms above him, Harry pictured the room as he imagined a room of his choice would be. Opening his eyes he smiled in relief. Everything was how he wanted it to be, perfect in his eyes. Thin green curtains covered the windows, casting an emerald glow onto the new desk below them. He had a carpet, not accustomed to the cool of the stone beneath his bare feet in the morning, of a cream color, long and soft to tread on. The center of the room held a long thin glass table, a dragon breathing fire etched upon its features. His ancient books on Alchemy piled atop it, a single red, black and white candle centered around and on the books. The red-orange glow the fire cast around the lit the room, amplifying the candles and moonlight, pleasantly contrasting to Harry's dark materials. His bed was on the adjacent wall to the left of the fire, covered in silk sheets and a comforter of a deep ocean blue, the silver lining as foam to a breaking wave.
Harry smiled and sat upon his light gray couch, sinking into the yielding cushions, finally off his feet and comfortable. With only a few additions of a closet for his clothes to be placed into and his old school trunk at the foot of his bed, it's crest a red snake curving around a blooded dagger, his room now complete. Harry stood, not able to be in the pleasant atmosphere with his cloak upon his back. Carefully, as not to hurt himself more, he pried it from his sweaty shoulders, hanging it in the closet. With the hardest trial complete, Harry easily magicked his black shirt off his body and onto his bed. He folded it, the process drilled into his head from his years of servantry at the Dursleys, and placed it on one of the shelves in the closet. Even with his ever present tattoos along his upper body, his muscles from the many years of Quidditch practice and hard labor during the summer, were hard to miss. Nothing bulging, but firm and obviously there.
Eadem hissed his approval, causing a small blush to tint Harry's cheeks at the compliment. Never before had anyone so much as given him a second look unless to gaze endlessly at his scar. His scar. It was the one thing that Harry wouldn't mind the loss of, his emerald eyes of his mother the biggest pain present in his heart. Humanity hadn't understood his hate of publicity, nor would they even try. He was their hero, he understood, but it didn't necessarily lead to the want of fame and fortune. Especially if it barricaded him against knowing other people, awed and too legendary to approach: disgusting and needy, a disgrace and arrogant boy. His world was purged in black and white, two sides to himself, no one daring to find the skin underneath the bindings, the true person, free of critiques, free of articles, free of fame and heroism. Him. The orphaned abused boy who's name was Harry Potter. Who didn't know what magic was. What wizards were, Hogwarts, wands. Who didn't know who Voldemort was.
With a quick look to Eadem, who was watching him in rapture, the first time seeing him, Harry pulled off his pants. Really seeing him, his physical scars from his cousin, uncle, bully's at his elementary school who thought he was too small. Too weak. It was the first time anyone would see his whole body, the pale hallow skin that would never tan, the firm and sculpted, yet slightly withered body that wouldn't gain weight, all due to his lack of food as a child. With his pants gone, Harry removed his boxers, not used to sleeping with any clothing on.
Eadem didn't comment, feeling Harry's deeply ridden insecurities about himself. He only moved closer to the wall as Harry lifted the blankets off his bed and slipped under them. He sighed, staring up into the dark of his ceiling, not tired, not bored, nothing. Harry smiled suddenly, stepping out of the bed to sit upon the covers. He raised his hands together, clasping them parallel to his chest and chanted.
"Æthra ne ad relegare absque di Gaeia...speculumar incilco ea occludo lacunar....tempus defluo, transitus ui exemplum....Emanio excituom manus ea valui ad nonvere caelum!" Harry raised his hands, glowing with almost unrestricted light of all the colors combined, standing upon his bed. He lifted them over his hand and with all his might flung the orb to his ceiling, hands pushing the sphere to imbed itself into the stone, mingling with the castle itself. When all the light had faded from sight, Harry watched with his new vision the magic he created combine with the magic flowing through the veins of the stone's in his room, gathering at the center and exploding to go shooting out into every crevice. He slumped into his bed, glad he had finish everything he wanted to with his room. Overhead, his ceiling, like that to which the Great Hall's did, reflected the sky outside his room, stars shining and dulling in the dark blue of the atmosphere, winking at him with every turn of his head.
Shifting in bed, Harry's eyes stayed open, running in-between, on, and over each star in the galaxy, not half his energy drained from such a powerful spell. He was restless, and his wings had started fluttering again, reminding him of his subtle use of them. He hadn't flown for so long. Not since Medlock's house, and even then that was only to learn. Never had he flown for the enjoyment of flying like he did with his broom. Harry closed his eyes in rhapsody, feeling the wind blow against his body, through his clothes to tickle his skin. Wind blowing through his face and hair, sighing as it met with his hard body, challenging him to control himself in the never-ending whirlwind. Challenging him to stay with the river's writhing course in the sky, taking him in it's grip to roll about the heavens, not wanting to land upon the ground ever again, so caught up in his utter delightment.
Harry sat up in bed. He needed to fly. His blood sang beneath his skin, tempting him into giving into the utter ecstasy of flight. His wings beat against his back along with his blood, flowing about him, creating a torrent of wind to arise in his room, blowing out the candles on his table, his fire hissing as it was hit with the air. He stood from his bed and walked over to the window, wrenching it open. His warm body was hit with the cool flow of air from outside, stinging with the contact, fire against ice. Looking down, Harry noted with happiness the great drop his his window to the ground and leapt out.
Falling seemed like eternity to Harry. His back faced the ground, arms dangled in front of his head, clasped together, his legs rising with the push of the air from his increasing descent. As he felt the ground nearing upon him, Harry let out one ragged breath. He could end it all now. Let go, be free. Traitorously, inches from the ground, Harry's wings spread out full length, catching the wind beneath them and stopping him, hovering just above the rich green grass. He let his hands go, throwing them down against his sides, his wings mocking his movements, sending him hurling backwards, just brushing the grass below him, flying into the dark of the Forbidden Forest. Minutes past as Harry rushed past the trees, flying between branches quicker than he'd ever gone before. He flew directly in the path of an upcoming tree, twirling in his flight for his stomach to face the ground; flying upwards along the bark, centimeters from contact.
He burst from the tree line of the forest, leaves dancing around him from being uprooted from their bodies. They were caught in the dance of his flight upward, the motion flinging them about Harry's body, twirling as they lost momentum, gliding back down to their homes. Harry flew onward, up and up into the dark sky, his naked body catching the rays of the moon smiling upon him, his wings, for the first time since appearing on his body, shimmered from a black to pure white. He reached his left arm towards the silver sphere, pointer finger extended to fondly trace it's surface before he stilled his wings. He plummeted back towards the Earth, spiraling in his drop, lone arm raised above his body, the other clutching at his heart. Stretching his wings to their utmost length he slowed his fall, floating back down to the grounds of Hogwarts, his cage.
Harry laid upon the terra firma, blinking up into the sky, his arms stretched out resting upon his wings, looking to all like a fallen angel from the Welkin above. He closed his eyes from the world, relishing in the exhilaration his flight had just brought him. His body hummed for the first time in a long time, his blood danced through his veins, adrenaline coursing from head to toe, his brain complete mush in his head, only knowing his contentment. He laid there upon the dirt, the stones, grass, mud, everything. He laid upon the living creatures in the ground beneath him, worming their way to their small nests in the soil. He laid upon the existence of the world, it's core pulsing underneath him, sparking him with life. He laid upon the hand of the galaxy, cradled in it's warmth, it's angelic glow, it's appraising smile. For hours Harry stayed lying without a care in the world until the golden sun peaked from behind the horizon, waking the birds and animals, reminding him of his life outside this ecstasy.
Reluctantly, and with one last kiss goodbye to the earth below him, Harry rose from his sleep, flying back to his bedroom window and into his school, his sadness, grief, pain, sorrow, and loss all coming back to him. As he left to gather his clothes and head to his personal bathroom, Harry's wings ruffled, changing from their pearl white to a dull gray, and finally his piercing wounded black.
He took his time getting dressed, not wanting to be confronted with the people he once smiled about. Had they recognized him? Or had they merely dismissed him as a somebody to avoid? Did they even care?
He sighed, donning his black pants, black shirt, and with great averse, his concealment cloak. Eadem opened his eyes, not yet wanting to move about, yet feeling Harry fix the bed, feeling his day begin. He felt Harry's loath to wear the cloak and went to his Differo, presenting himself as some sort of comfort in Harry's pain. Harry greatly accepted Eadem onto his body; already freeing some of the stress he had gathered in the short time he was back in the castle. As uneager as he was, Harry left his room after uttering a good morning to the painting, memorizing his way through the corridors, intent on remembering how to return back.
The Great Hall was alive with students, all eating to their heart's content, enjoying the conversations with their fellow school dwellers, comparing schedules. Harry stood by the doors, determined to make an appearance. He lifted his hands to lay them on the grand mahogany doors, then pushed them open, halting the talking of the students. He strode purposely a few feet, announcing to all who missed that he was there, not leaving them quite yet. A few girls cried out at seeing him, his presence masking their happiness in place of utter terror. Harry let himself smirk at the scared faces, knowing it wouldn't be hard to attain their hate.
At the Gryffindor table, Hermione and Ron made a place for him to sit, waving him over, hoping he would join them. To their disappointment, Harry just nodded his greetings, then turned away. He looked about the Great Hall, not wanting to sit with anyone else, yet hungry for the first time in months. Choosing a corner to the left of the doors, he conjured a table and chairs for him to sit at, undisturbed by his fellows in their chatter and eating. Dumbledore watched him from his perch at the head of the Teacher's Table, swishing his wand beneath the table for no one to see, indicating to the House Elves to bring food to the newest table. With a resound sigh, it was the least he could do for Harry.
Harry was a bit surprised when he sat down, greeted by food popping up at his table, plates and cups appearing for his use, a jug of Pumpkin Juice fresh by his side. He took a piece of toast and placed it on his plate, pouring himself a cup of juice when two shadows fell upon the table. Harry reprimanded himself for not feeling the people coming towards him, distracted by his slight hunger. He looked up and controlled himself not to open his mouth in shock; Draco and Blaise stood at his side momentarily before they sat in the two seats at his left and right, stacking their plates with food from his table.
Taking courage from Draco and Blaise's actions, Hermione and Ron stood from Gryffindor Table, walking over to seat themselves in the last two unoccupied seats at Harry's new table. Harry panicked at seeing the people around him. They didn't understand what they were doing. None of them understood the consequences of being around him! He quickly pushed his chair backwards, intent on rising to leave, but Draco and Blaise grasped his arms, pushing him back into his seat.
"Harry, stay," Draco commanded, his arm still holding Harry to his seat, his free one cutting his pancakes with his fork and eating. Hermione all but laughed at Harry's confusion at Draco's order. Still more confused when he complied, resting himself into the seat and picking up his piece of toast. They hardly understood the consequences that would be administered to them. He could already feel Dumbledore's uneasy opinion of having four of his student's seated at a potential enemy's table, as hard as he tried to mask it.
Eadem slinked out of Harry's robe, intent on finding a morsel of food to eat, his body needing the replenishment of nutrients Harry's small appetite restricted him to. Draco took no hesitation on putting some scrambled eggs on a small dish and setting it in front of Eadem, accompanied by another small bowl filled with pumpkin juice. Harry hardly moved as he watched Eadem expose himself to the four students, his identity made known to their presence.
"What are you doing?" Harry quietly asked Eadem, hoping against hope that his love would enter back into his cloak and his current companions forget they saw him.
"I am hungry, Parssssss. Differo forgetss to feed Eadem. Yessssss. Dragon givess Eadem food for nourissssshment."
"Dragon?" Harry looked to Eadem, puzzled for the first time since he was united with the snake.
"Yesssss. Bright Dragon next to you, Differo. He meanssssss no harm. Smellss ssssweet." Eadem moved to Draco's side, earning a stifled gasp from the blonde and Harry's eyes boring into his. He ignored Harry for the time being, intent on confirming any doubts as to his belief in Draco. With a soft hiss and slow movements, he eased himself onto Draco's frozen arm, twining himself around it, then gazing into Draco's startled gray eyes. "Intentionsssss pure. Like him, Eadem doesss. Ssssurely Differo doess as well?"
Harry stood abruptly from his seat, his chair falling to the floor with a dull thud in his hurried movements. Another betrayal. Eadem had dared to enter into the mind of another. Harry felt, with impending loss, that the one he believed in, cherished; sought after in all his hardships, he loved; had touched, connected albeit for an instant, with another; causing his heart to shatter.
"So be it. I understand now, Eadem. I go." Harry moved to walk away, being caught in his own web of sorrow and grief. Never before had he felt so empty, a shell, hallowed. If Eadem chose to bond with another, it was a fight he couldn't parry, it hitting too close to the tissue of his soul not yet healed. Utter emptiness swarmed him, he was black, sickeningly dark, Eadem's bright light in the back of his mind fluttering in it's brilliance.
"Ssssstop, Differo. You have not yet to undersstand. I have not yet to explain. Love isss ssstill sstrong, no? Don't walk away. Not yet. Not ssso sssssoon."
Harry halted in his movements. Eadem...hadn't just left? Stayed with him? But all were doomed to leave him, this Harry knew. It was a short time before Eadem discovered another, perhaps a stronger bond with Draco, and decided to disconnect all ties to Harry. It was a short time before his friends journeyed along the same path tread by his deceived parents. Walked by his godfather. Familiarized by his professors. Too short of a time had he before they all left. All discovered his horrible secret and ran. Too short.
"Sit down this instant, Potter, and try to absorb some protein, and fat, into that frail corpse you call a body." Draco had stood beside Harry, watching the boy fight himself, denying, and complying to his traitorous thoughts. All at the table had seen his eyes flicker from their color to a dull brown, hardening to a black, and once again flaring to life as a piercing blood red. Harry raised his head slowly, a pained look of a man discovering the sins of his life and realizing his destruction, upon his face, opened for the first time since he arrived at the school. His feelings, once hidden behind his hate were present, showing the utter loss and saddened terror of his acceptance, his heart on his sleeve for any about him to ruin.
"Harry," Draco spoke softly, expressing all his hope and kindness into saying that one name. Harry looked longingly into Draco's eyes for a second; connecting with his mind and voicing everything he couldn't speak. Draco dropped to his seat, his eyes wide and troubled, his mind experiencing the overwhelming emotions Harry had unloaded onto him.
"I need...to go. I must go." Harry, as if in a daze, walked with a slight fault to his steps, a drunken dance grabbing hold of his body. He reached the door's of the Great Hall and leaned against them, his palm lying aside the cool hard wood, fingers tingling with power to open the door.
He breathed in the sweet air of the outside when his feet finally left the hard stone ground of the school, the few chains around him breaking as the extended his arms to the sky. Last night played heavenly in his mind, pulling him, hands surrounding his body, lifting him to embrace the fair sky. How he longed to shred his clothes and dance under the full moon as a child of the night, a faerie to his faerie-ring, dancing his magic into the earth, freeing his heart as he spun a web of enchantment to the star-kissed flowers. Oh how he longed to rid himself of his mind for a short time. Cradle the shining tears of the midnight sky, dance along the streams of the wind.
But now was not his time to forget. Early morning it was and students were milling about, venturing from breakfast to classes, starting their day in their safe haven, unaware of all the trials of the outside world. Unaware of his immoral demise. How now? To be wrought in time, stuck in this gaping puckering wound of immortal life. How now was he to smile at the memories of long ago, to free himself of all evil and continue on with his life? It seemed he was not to meet a happy end, to live the life those children dreamed of, gazing out their windows long hours after their parents ordered them to bed, imagining a world of princes and dragons, of rescues and love; falling to sleep with the cool night air tickling their skin. Heaven smite his worldly dreams! Send lightening crashing to his ground, burning the earth he stood on, smoting his wonders, his wishes. Leaving only behind his revenge and hate, his anger and scorn, his loss and prayer for it all to end. Yet too cowardly was he to end it for himself, too powerful was he to give in to those of less. Too in despair to realize anything of worth.
Harry looked to the highest tower of the school, gazing at it's curves, picturing the perfect cushioned beds inside, laughing teenagers gathering their books to start learning, intent on being educated, intend on seeing their friends. How he longed to be one of them. A nobody. Nothing of importance. He faced away from the Forbidden Forest, knowing that too long his gaze was on it, the less control he had of himself and immerse himself within it's confines. The library would be his learning ground, Dumbledore and classes be damned. He would find his sanctuary, find his cure from Voldemort and all who opposed him.
He entered into the school once again, noticing a tiny prickle against his skin, indicating that Dumbledore hoped to keep tabs on his person. Smirking to himself, careful to tread along the shadows in concealment, he sent out a high focused energy pulse, sending it forth to Dumbledore and whatever his object of his sight was. He was satisfied to feel a crack and shattering in the back of his mind, knowing that Dumbledore was unsuccessful on following him, the prickle of his skin gone.
Hermione and Ron searched about the hallway, hoping one last glimpse of Harry before they left to class. He had not the heart to disappoint them, and stepped into the light, nodding his head in his departure, and walking up the stairs to the library. Hermione smiled slightly, knowing that Harry could have hidden himself completely, leaving them to walk away in sadness without his presence. And yet, he had shown himself to their benefit, risked something within himself on letting them know he was there. Always there. Letting himself be known.
"All my love to you, Harry Potter. All my love and friendship to be known, to you!" Hermione called out, smiling at Harry who had paused on the stairs. His frame had trembled slightly with her declaration, and she was filled with joy to know that though he had tried to deny her, he could never deny her confession of her love for him, knowing that he would always have the truth, knowing he could not dismiss it as farfetched longing. Ron looked puzzled to Hermione who stood at the base of the stairs, immobile in her thoughts. Even more so puzzled when a tear cascaded down her cheek, her eyes smiling at Harry's retreating back, her tears bright with a shine instead of caught with sorrow.
"Come, Hermione. We'll be late." Ron extended his arm to her, smiling warmly as she grasped her hand around him. Everything would somehow work out, she would see. Harry was not too far gone for them. Never too far gone for his friends to plunge in to whatever depths it took and reach out their hands to help him come back. This Ron was sure of. No matter the cause, Harry would be with them again, not feeding off the realm of darkness he had become accustomed to, but embracing the radiant glow of the light with his friends surrounding him, helping him along.
HYMN OF PERSEPHONE
Wild blow the winds on this black night -
laughter shrieking within my dumb ears.
A baying of dogs, the sound of horns, the mad light
of the moon blazing on a plain empty and fierce:
here is where I make my halt. My white feet
writhe on the grass, seeking a soothing peat.
The raw soles kiss blade. White burns red, It is the nothing-space to which I have fled.
And the god is about: which mercy will he bring,
the ecstasy of the arrow, the sweet death's-bed?
This mad poet would sing.
Death is in every gift. Do not fight
the glance, the sharp kiss, the sweet metal tears
of rain falling on midwinter's blight -
This soft sobbing patter is all the soul hears.
Dark plains of the night, where my mouth might beat
from its chest; throbbing; where my mouth might eat
stranger foods: nectar, ambrosia, toadstool-bread,
accepting dark hell with delighted dread.
Love of my masked lord is a frightening thing:
The ground near my feet is soaked where I've bled;
This mad poet would sing.
This hell-token coiled about my neck (Now invite
what's beyond the mask to the body mask-worn)
Here in this wood, mosses of malachite
entwine tressy roots along granite spears,
a gasping coitus is what makes me complete;
thick honey drips to mingle with the blood at my feet.
I give up myself. My light glows where I have spread,
my hair tosses - and an ancient figurehead,
an oracle, a wild prophet, I scream -The moon is bleeding
but none perceive. These words stay unsaid.
This mad poet would sing.
A/N: No, this is not a Harry/Hermione story. Her love for him is pure and that of a friend.