Title: Classic Stigma
Author: Nepenthe
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Genre: Drama
Format: Finished multipart
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Some swearing.
Disclaimer: I own Harry's new scars and Luna's advice. Nothing more.
"Friday at last!" Ron breathed, head falling thankfully on the table in worship, and just nearly missing the mashed potatoes. Hermione tucked them away safely, casting an annoyed glance at Ron's red hair before going back to her dinner.
"Harry!" Ron straightened up brightly, grabbing his best friend's sleeve in case the boy decided to make a quick getaway from the mischievous look in his eye. "Don't tell Hermione, but Fred and George have stocked up their own alcohol cabinet and want to throw a party in celebration of opening a store at Hogsmeade! Want to come?"
"Hermione's sitting right behind you," Harry felt responsible to point out. Ron turned around quickly in surprise, looking straight into Hermione's frosty glare and gulping audibly.
"Absolutely not!" Hermione snapped. "Not only are you two under-aged, but both of you are supposed to be role models!" ("Yeah, we can be role models for the Don't Drink and Drive campaign!") ("RON!") "And just because it's a Friday, it doesn't mean you can relax on your studies. N.E.W.T.S are coming soon, in case you FORGOT, Ron, and you have NO more time to goof off—"
Ron buried himself in his arms as Hermione ranted on, her cheeks flushed red in anger when Ron tried to plug his ears during her speech about responsibility. He looked over miserably at Harry, who grinned cheekily in return and took a large bite out of his pork.
"Sometimes, being beautiful is the most uncomfortable thing in the world." - Luna Lovegood
Harry had never been to a real party before. Sure, Gryffindor have roaring good times after a successful Quidditch match, full of butterbeer and retelling of their favorite events, with music in the background and shy kisses in dark corners. But, obviously, Harry had been missing something, because compared to the party he was at now, those things were like birthday parties with games like pin the tail on the donkey. Harry was pretty sure that every sixth and seventh year student from every house was there. There was a throng of hot bodies, dancing and moving, and laughing hysterically as someone let off one of the Weasleys' toys that they just bought. Fred and George must have been making tons of money from all the things people bought that one night, easily taking care of the bill for all the alcohol supplied freely. The selection was vast and embarrassingly, Harry found him shying away from the extremely hard liquor and grabbing something more fruity and tasteful instead. He had only had one and a half bottles and he was feeling the effect already with his vision blurring and fuzzy light-headedness washing over him. He had no idea what state he would be in if he was with Ron across the room, slamming down shots with his brothers, and cheering with the growing crowd. Seamus was helpful to point out to Harry that he was a lightweight and wisely suggested that if he didn't want to pass out, stay away from anything that was forty percent and higher.
Harry squinted at his bottle just to make sure and raised his eyes. Only five percent in this thing? Harry wondered in shock.
"I'm such a weakling," Harry admonished out loud, wide-eyed.
"Yes," someone said from behind him. "You're the kind of person people like to get insanely drunk so they can have their wicked way with them."
Harry turned around slowly, feeling like his head was filled up with cotton balls and raised an eyebrow at his smirking partner. Harry knew he should appreciate how good Draco looked in that cloak Harry got him, or admire the way the firelight was highlighting his hair, but it seemed like such stupid things to concentrate on when the entire package looked fine. Harry squinted slightly, staring at Draco with such concentration that it made his boyfriend raise an eyebrow.
"You're not hammered already, are you?" Draco asked curiously. Harry shook his head quickly, and things in the corner of his eyes swayed out of focus.
"No," Harry said lamely. "I'm just...fuzzy?"
"Fuzzy?" Draco smirked slightly.
"And my legs," Harry pointed at them, in case Draco forgot where his legs were. Obviously he did, because he didn't even look down at them. "They're kind of tired. I want to sit down."
Harry took another drink carefully, not wanting to spill it all over himself in front of his companion. That would be embarrassing. Surprisingly, though, Harry was finding himself not caring overly much. He just didn't want to do it, was all.
"Well, then sit," Draco supplied helpfully. Harry looked around him, surprised that he didn't think of that sooner. However all the chairs were taken. Sit on the floor? Harry knew that probably wasn't the best idea, but then again, it did make sense. It wasn't like he was breaking a law and his legs WERE getting a little shaky. So Harry moved to plop down on the floor, when Draco laughed and grabbed his arm.
"Come on, you silly git," Draco said somewhat affectionately. "We'll go down into the basement. Want another drink?"
Harry mutely held up his bottle, staring at Draco's pretty eyes, but they were kind of blurry. He squinted again.
"This sucks," Harry said when Draco turned away to snatch another bottle from the table. When he turned around, he merely raised an eyebrow and started to lead Harry through the shifting mass of drinking students.
"What sucks?" Draco asked.
"I can't see you," Harry said honestly, making Draco stumble slightly when he looked at him. "I can't really see anything. Its just like it's going by and I want it to stop for a second. STOP." Harry held out a hand in front of him to see if the world would grow still for him. Instead, people just laughed at another silly joke and the two continued to wade through to the back.
"How many have you had?" Draco teased. Harry tensed slightly, a bright blush appearing on his face as he realized that he was only on his second beverage and he was obviously drunk. For the first time in his life.
"Ten," Harry said confidently.
"Liar."
Draco helped Harry down the stairs, though he wasn't sloshed enough to stumble all the way down. He just took them slowly, but Harry thought he was doing an amazing job at it. He was going straight and everything. See, he wasn't drunk, silly Draco, he was perfectly able to hold his liquor.
"Whoa," Harry gurgled as he nearly slipped on the last step and clung onto Draco. His boyfriend laughed and without dislodging Harry's death grip on him, helped him to the couch in the basement. It was dark down here, with candles all around to illuminate the room as little as possible. All around them as they went to get a seat were snogging couples, not even noticing Harry and Draco's arrival. Harry looked around them nervously as he slowly took a seat on the well-used couch. He was a bit tipsy, that was true, but he wasn't slammed enough to have his consciousness washed away and be playing Quidditch somewhere. It had been centered on walking down those stairs, it had focused on Draco for the past ten minutes, and it was now zeroing in on the uncomfortable position he knew he was in. He was expected to make out with Draco down here, he was sure. And Harry also knew he was not drunk enough for this kind of conscious step.
Tilting the bottle back, Harry quickly finished off the bottle.
Draco, on the other hand, seemed to be completely relaxed against the nervous Harry Potter and was eyeing him contently. He leaned himself against the arm of the couch, feet on the cushions and knees bent as he stretched out his arms behind him.
"Want the other bottle?"
"Yeah..." Harry gulped, putting the empty one down between his feet. Draco handed it over mutely, leaning his cheek against his fist. "These are actually pretty good."
"Witch's beer," Draco said with a smirk. Harry blushed, not bothering to hide it because he was sure he couldn't see it in such bad lighting. Actually, with the beer and the low light, Harry found himself not being overly self-conscious. In the near dark like this, Draco couldn't see Harry's glasses, big eyes, and any scars...if they happened to get that far, of course. It made Harry relax a bit, leaning against the back of the couch lazily to drink away and stare openly at Draco's silhouette.
"I prefer wine myself," Draco continued and ran a hand through his hair. Even in the near darkness, it still glowed.
"Don't they have any?" Harry asked, confused.
"Yes."
"Well...why aren't you having any?"
"I didn't come here to get drunk, Potter."
Harry took a very quick gulp of his beverage.
"You...uh...don't like being drunk?"
Draco's mere shadow shrugged. "I have nothing against it."
"So you don't mind...if I..." Harry started, not really sure what he was trying to say. But Draco seemed to and Harry saw the white of his teeth when he smiled.
"Harry," Draco said. "If anybody had more reasons to go to the bottle, it would be you." Harry flushed, and took a smaller sip from the bottle. "No, I don't mind if you get hammered, as long as you don't throw up on me."
Harry's eyes felt very heavy at that point, so he closed them and leaned his head back. He wasn't really tired or maybe he wasn't willing to fall asleep, but he knew he felt very relaxed with Draco in this dark room, talking quietly, until he heard the gentle rustle of clothing, the soft moan, and the shifting of bodies on chairs, couches, and boxes.
"Are you falling asleep, Harry?" Draco's voice was hushed. Maybe he was listening to what was happening around them too.
"Kind of," Harry answered sheepishly.
"Here." Harry felt Draco's hand on his arm, drawing him over. For some reason, Harry came willingly and let Draco push him down to rest on his chest and between his stretched legs. Taking a couple more gulps out of his drink, Harry let himself cuddle underneath Draco's chin and closed his eyes again. In this dark, dark place, it felt very nice. Almost like Harry wasn't himself, but somebody else...who was beautiful like Draco and that everything was right in the world. Somebody in the room shifted noisily and then there was music coming from the darkness, making Harry smile. It drowned out the sounds of the other people, securing Harry to the knowledge that they were all alone and Draco really liked him. With alcohol coursing happily through his veins and muddling his brain, Harry felt insanely happy and assured him that ugly or not, Draco was with him because he liked his personality (or something). And that felt very comforting.
Draco kissed Harry on the forehead softly, causing the boy to smile again and snuggle closer to let him know he appreciated it. Then another kiss landed, somewhat lower, and Harry's heart began to beat a little faster in suspicion. Now another kiss was planted between his eyebrows and Harry knew that Draco wanted something, wanted to go further down, and do what everyone else in the room was doing. Butterflies suddenly appeared in Harry's stomach and he opened his eyes nervously to the dark. Could he do it? Harry knew it was just some harmless kissing and it really wasn't anything...
Except for the fact that Harry had never made out with anyone before.
In his dilemma, Harry felt the signs of Draco's discouragement. There was a silent sigh, almost like frustration, before Draco moved his kisses back to Harry's hair.
Maybe just one little peck and he'll leave me alone...Harry thought nervously, and holding his breath, he tilted his head upwards. He felt Draco pause for a second before he felt a small breeze on his lips and then the fall of Draco's lips. They hugged his own and Harry's stomach flipped over, blinking his wide-open eyes. Oh, wow, Harry thought. Draco is kissing me with an open mouth. Harry was sure he was going to die from the shock of it all. Draco's mouth left for a second, only to return hotly again in such persistence that Harry felt his own lips part a bit. And that was all that Draco needed. His tongue slipped in and touched Harry's still one before swiping to his bottom teeth and lip. Harry, in his shock, squirmed and found a fist clenching Draco's shirt, all the while finding the decency to breathe in sharply in a way that was loud to both of their ears. Draco fucking Malfoy was kissing him! Tongue in his mouth! Harry didn't know if he wanted to scream or faint from it all. He was also sure that the alcohol in his veins was helping him calm his screaming and confused nerves - it kept telling him that it was all right, it was okay, go along with it. So Harry took a deep breath and found Draco's bottom lip between his own. He sucked on it lightly and a new taste filled his mouth again and Harry knew it was Draco. Now, he always heard that when you kissed someone, they tasted like - well, pineapples, or wine, or sugar or something...but Draco didn't taste like any kind of food. He just tasted wet, tasted almost like Harry's own saliva but only so much hotter. He wondered if that really was how it was or if he was just too dulled. This was Harry's first kiss...he wondered if he should tell him that, so he didn't think he was stupid or something. But Draco's bottom lip had slipped from Harry's sucking and Draco descended on him hotly with a wave of his tongue and Harry thought that maybe that wouldn't be a good idea. Interruption was a terrible thing when you were sharing your first kiss and Harry thought maybe he could learn...?
So he copied Draco's questing tongue within his mouth, but he found he was really quite fond of just sucking on one of Draco's lips, sometimes letting his teeth rake the delicate flesh as he slipped out. Draco never did it back to him though, so Harry got an idea that maybe it wasn't as fun for Draco as it was for him...but he never said anything. They just kissed languidly, tongues exploring each other's mouths like they had all the time in the world. Harry liked how relaxed the kiss was, like they had done this a million times before, and found himself quite snuggled up to his boyfriend's body. Harry also noticed that no matter how long they kissed, they rarely needed to come up for air. Harry found it quite easy to breathe through his nose and suck on Draco's tongue at the same time. Again, he thought that maybe they were doing something wrong, because he read that when people kiss, they got so into it, that they had to break for air. Harry was positive that he wasn't the best kisser...but Draco didn't say anything, so that reassured Harry into thinking that maybe...this was Draco's first kiss too.
The best part though, Harry was sure, was when Draco started kissing his neck. He never wanted him to stop. He gasped and groaned at Draco's soft kisses and his hot breath tickling his neck. It felt too good to be true and he knew that if Draco ever wanted anything from him again, all he would have to do was kiss right there. The frustrating thing though was that Draco would only hover there for barely a minute before coming back to Harry's mouth. He didn't know why...he rather liked Draco glued to his neck, thank you very fucking much. He thought he was being quite vocal about it too. How many times did he have to say 'Oh My God' and moan and whimper to get Draco a clue? Or maybe he was being too loud about it? So Harry tried to be bit quieter when Draco nibbled on his neck again, but it was no use; his hands clenched, his toes curled, and he groaned loudly and squirmed against his companion's body. Draco came back to his mouth immediately to be silenced, but god damnit, Harry wanted to be loud...
"Draco..." Harry said, breathless for more of that tingling sensation. "Please for all that is holy, put your mouth back on my neck..."
"Like that, do you?" Draco chuckled.
"Weren't you listening to me?" Harry tried to sound cross but it failed because Draco was devouring his neck again and it felt so fucking good.
"Yes," Draco murmured quietly. "And it was driving me insane..."
"Oh..." Harry hiccuped, toes curling again in his shoes as he bucked into Draco's lower regions. Draco's breath hitched.
"Sorry..." Harry whispered. "It just...good...uh..."
Draco's hands were around his waist now and had slowly crawled underneath his shirt. The tickling sensation of Draco's fingers and his mouth caused Harry's mind and body to completely freeze - well, mostly. He knew he should return the favor, touch Draco back, but all he was capable of doing when Draco hit the right spot was hiss, and roll his hips forward as the wave washed through him. Draco was only too happy about that. Lips found lips again and they fell into the familiar pattern, as Draco's hands crawled up Harry's back.
Back. His back...
Harry squeaked just in time before Draco's questing fingers found his scars and purposely fell off the couch, landing on the floor loudly. Couples around them broke apart at the loud crash, blinking blearily at Harry's shape on the concrete floor.
"Harry, are you all right?" Draco whispered, kneeling down to help him up.
"Harry Potter?" Somebody whispered from the darkness.
"Uh, fine," Harry felt very embarrassed. "Just...uh...can we...leave?"
"...Yeah, okay," Draco said and helped Harry up. Still a little woozy, Draco had to manhandle Harry to the stairs.
"Harry Potter!" Someone said again from the dark room as they climbed the stairs. "Snogging!" And everyone burst into giggles.
"Being last isn't always the worst thing, Harry. At least that way you can see every mistake that people make in front of you." - Luna Lovegood
By Monday, Harry snogging Draco Malfoy at the Weasley's party had spread like wildfire. Unfortunately for the press, they had no pictures, so they had to force the headline news to completely cover the second page and three fourths of the third. Harry had no idea what the hell they could talk about to take up so much space, but he couldn't make himself read to find out. Unlike Draco, who was undaunted by the giggles, the whispers, and the celebrity press, Harry was a wreck. For some reason, he felt very cheap and tarnished, like he just ruined a bit of himself - not just by getting drunk, but giving away his first kiss while he was hammered. It felt wrong somehow and Harry found himself longing for that kiss back, so he could still say he was innocent. When people generally found out that Harry had never had a proper snog...well, they had always acted very positive about it. Like he was noble and brave for saving his first kiss as fiercely as he saved someone he loved. The press had a field day when they found out about Harry's innocent exposure with headlines in newspapers and magazines about 'Never Been Kissed.' Harry had secretly enjoyed those stories, because they made it sound like it was something so very pure, instead of something freaky and weird; something Harry felt like most of the time. But when 'Harry's First Snog' came about, everyone acted like Harry was just caught with a teacher in a broom closet. And Harry was beginning to feel like it too.
"This is absolutely ridiculous," Hermione snapped, her book falling loudly on the table as she glared over at a large group of whispering fourth years. They hushed and stared like bunnies caught in the headlights of an oncoming freight train before coughing and quickly departing.
"It's okay, Hermione," Harry sighed as he scribbled on his parchment absently. When Hermione had received her daily newspaper, she had been furious to the point of tears about the whole thing. Not at Harry, but at how everyone was acting about it, and she had been like a dragon to everyone for the entire day.
"It's NOT okay," Hermione growled, turning back to her friend. "You see this kind of stuff happen all the time to celebrities. It's all right if they remain all innocent and smiles, but as soon as they are caught kissing a guy, it automatically makes them cheap and...and..."
"Slutty?" Harry offered helpfully, looking up over his glasses.
"Well...yes," Hermione said, flustered. She sighed then, blowing the hair out of her face as she moved to pick up her book again. "It just isn't fair for you, Harry. They just expect you stay pure forever, like some comic book superhero. But you're human and a BOY and...it just isn't right for them to treat you like this after all you've done." She buried her head behind the book. "It's all right for you to grow up. It's not like you're a boy anymore..."
"The Man Who Lived," Harry said, his voice holding a bare whisper of humor in it. Hermione snorted and they went back to their homework, the common room slowly emptying out when people found themselves at a loss for words over the current gossip. Soon it was just he, Hermione, Ron, and Neville, the last two by the fire, with Ron snoring away over his Potions book and Neville feeding his toad. Biting his inner lip, Harry slowly rolled up his parchment and stared at the hardcover blocking Hermione's face.
"Hermione?"
"Hm?"
"I...need to ask you something," Harry started uncertainly. Hermione's head appeared slowly from behind the book as she lowered it gently back to the table. "With you and Neville...did everything just come naturally to you guys?"
Hermione raised both eyebrows (she could never do the one eyebrow thing) and blinked at Harry. "You mean, did we date and not make the four o'clock news?"
"Hermione," Harry begged, taking off his glasses to rub his strained eyes. "I'm serious."
"Are you and Draco not working out?" She asked softly.
"I don't know!" Harry said frustrated. "I don't know anything about us. I don't know what's expected, what's mandatory, and what just comes naturally. I don't know what to do, but when it happens, I get so fucking nervous over it that I freak out and run away. Draco's probably so sick of it, but I can't help it...I just..."
"Harry, you do know that there's nothing mandatory in a relationship, don't you?" Hermione asked, a smile tugging at her lips in mirth.
"Yes there is," Harry said, dropping his hands on the table. "You've gotta hold hands, and kiss sometimes, and then once you really like each other, you...and bedroom..."
"Harry, who in the world told you all that?" Hermione said incredulous.
"Nobody," Harry huffed. "It's just what I see coming from everybody..."
"Well, not everybody is the same," Hermione shook her head, and Harry did too, as if to shake the confusing swirl of thoughts away. "People do that because they want to, Harry, not because it's required."
"What are you guys talking about?" Neville asked, walking over. Neville had grown tall over the summer and had lost all his child flubber. He had also let his hair grow long and shaggy around his face, which Hermione seemed to adore. It was also obvious that his grandmother had taken Neville to some tooth wizard, because they were straight and perfect now. Harry knew that if that were available in the Muggle world, everybody would have perfect teeth, and skip the embarrassing hassle of braces.
"I'm sorry, Neville, but Harry just wants to talk to me right now..." Hermione said and her eyes squinted, like always when she was extremely apologetic. She looked up at her tall boyfriend in what Harry thought was a very inviting manner and like he expected, Neville leaned down and pecked her softly on the lips.
"That's all right," he said. "I'm going up to bed. I'll see you tomorrow."
"All right," Hermione said, glowing. She watched him leave up the stairs before turning back to Harry. "See? He didn't have to kiss me; he just did it because he wanted to. And probably to reassure me that he isn't offended." Hermione seemed very proud over that little aspect, to have such an easy-going boyfriend.
"And practically because you were begging for it," Harry couldn't help to point out.
"Huh?"
"Well, when you tilted your head just so..." Harry said, putting her head back in position like before. "It was practically like ordering the poor boy to kiss you."
Hermione blinked and stared at Harry, until he began to blush.
"I am so weird," he mumbled before burying his head in his arms.
"Well...I..." Hermione stammered. "I didn't realize that I did that. I mean...what do you do, study people or something? Did you read a book on how to coy your boyfriend into doing anything?"
"No!" Harry said strongly at the table, too embarrassed to lift his face from his arms.
"If you did, I would really like to read it..."
"Hermione..."
They were quiet for a moment, while his best friend thought. Harry felt so odd and out of place during all of it.
"Harry," she said, putting a hand on his arm. "Do you think like that all the time with Draco?"
"What do you mean?" His muffled voice asked.
"Like, analyzing the entire situation?" she said. "Like...well, I don't know..."
"Like if I wanted Draco to hug me, all I would have to do is..." Harry felt so stupid, telling Hermione this. "...lean away from the wall and then when he stood in front of me, push myself up, keep eye contact, and go nose to nose. Then he, thinking I was falling, would automatically..." SO STUPID. "...put his arms around me."
"Does that actually work?" Hermione asked, awed. Harry groaned.
"Works every time from what I see."
They fell into silence again, Hermione playing with the edges of the book before she spoke up. "So, do you? Analyze it like that?"
Harry shrugged but after a second, nodded into his arms. He lifted his head and rested his chin on his hands, blinking blearily at his best friend. "Is that weird, Hermione?"
"Well, it's not how I think about Neville..." she said uncertainly. Harry looked into her eyes and saw that she looked sad; sad for him, he assumed, like he was missing out on something and he'll never know what it will feel like. "But Harry, you're so different from everybody else. You think and act differently to every situation. You've never been an ordinary kid." No, Harry thought sadly. I'm a complete and utter freak. He was like a pretty fish in a bowl, staring out at normal humans that go about their business, and wishing that his fins were legs, and he could join them for a day. But he couldn't, because he was a fish, and fish weren't SUPPOSED to think like that...
Hermione took his hands, snapping his attention back to her caring face.
"It isn't weird, Harry," Hermione smiled. "In fact, I'm pretty sure it would be weird if you didn't act this way."
"Really?" Harry asked softly. She nodded.
"Well, think about it," she said. "Since you were eleven, you were fighting evil. Instead of wondering how to catch the eye of a pretty girl or-" she smiled, "-a pretty boy in class, you were plotting on how to survive that year. And while everyone else was getting boyfriends and girlfriends, you could only watch while you tried to keep Voldemort out of your head."
She squeezed Harry's hand and smiled largely, leaning her head in as if to whisper a big secret to her best friend.
"Harry, you're so used to watching," she said softly, "that you're still catching up to acting. You know when Draco is going to kiss you and you're still half expecting that it's someone else. So when it turns out he's kissing YOU, it's still a major shock and big deal to you."
Harry was getting confused. "Huh?"
Hermione laughed. "Harry, before you came to Hogwarts, or maybe your first year, did you even think about kissing or holding hands with someone?"
Harry scrunched up his nose thoughtfully before slowly shaking his head.
"Well, that's it," she said, like she just proved some point.
"What is?" Harry asked, still lost.
"Harry," she said, stressing his name. "Your mind is just not mature enough yet for relationships."
Harry blinked at her, now thinking she was the weird one.
"Come on, it all makes sense," she explained easily. "You've been exposed to all the boyfriend and girlfriend traits, but you've never taken a special interest in it because you haven't had time. You haven't had time to see what you might like in a relationship, only what everyone else liked. As far as romance goes, your mind is still eleven years old in the area, and kissing means cooties."
Well, that would explain why I feel so crappy about giving my first kiss away, Harry thought, avoiding Hermione's eyes. It would explain his reluctance to think of anything in the bedroom area. It would explain anything dealing with the body really, though he did find himself thinking Draco had an excellent one.
"If that's true..." Harry said. "Then it's just temporary, right?"
"Of course," Hermione said.
"God, it just doesn't make sense..." Harry said, frustrated again when he thought of Draco's lips on his neck. His toes automatically curled in his shoes. "I mean, I think Draco's attractive and I definitely like what happened Friday night...but at the same time, I don't."
"Hormones, Harry," Hermione said simply. "Your body may have been enjoying itself, but that doesn't mean your mind is ready to cope with it yet."
Harry felt like she just found a lost puzzle piece and put it back in his skull to finish the puzzle. Suddenly, everything seemed so clear and so much easier to understand. Harry couldn't really believe he didn't figure it out for himself. While Harry was dawning over this comprehension, Hermione seemed to be glowing, like she just got a hundred and fifty percent on a N.E.W.T.S. exam.
"Don't worry, Harry," she said happily. "You'll get over this hurdle soon enough. Draco can wait for you."
"Draco..." Harry mumbled, slightly nervous again. Hermione laughed at him and he smiled bashfully. "Hey, Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"It's not eleven," Harry said, grinning. "It's thirteen." Hermione looked confused for a second before she started to laugh again.
Harry had a bad dream that night. He was sitting in the damp dungeon again with Luna and their hands were clasped together. Harry's back was beginning to burn and he was sweating, panting against the pain of it. Luna kept staring at him though, not bothered in the least against the popping sounds of burning flesh that echoed off the stone walls.
"Luna, Luna help me, please..." Harry begged, his hands tight in agony over her elegant hands. The popping and the sizzling continued, and Harry wished he would die...he could barely hear Luna's voice over the sound of it...
"What should I be afraid of, Harry?"
"Luna, please, God, help me..." he whispered, rocking back and forth. "Ah! God, please, Luna!"
"What do you think about?"
Harry's voice gave out in a whimper, as he started to curl in within himself - he didn't know why he tried to make himself smaller. Maybe he was thinking that the smaller he was, the pain would decrease as well. It didn't work though. It seared with a scream that made Harry try to cover his ears, but Luna wouldn't let go of his hands now. The screaming was something vicious, something raw and powerful that it made Harry's insides shake. He knew that this would be the very voice of hate, pain, and fear if it was breathed life...and it was crackling off his back like something that had done just that. He tried to block out the sound, he tried to ignore the pain, but it was too great for him, too powerful...and then Harry realized that the screaming wasn't coming from his back. It wasn't coming out of anything else or anyone else but himself; emptying out of his mouth like vomit that had refused to hold itself back any longer. It burned his throat as such, like the voice of agony was pure acid and had splattered all over the two captives with its ringing tone. Harry knew that he was not dying though. Dying didn't feel like this. Dying was something sad and slow; but this feeling tearing through him was faster then a cast spell and the emotions that were stirred were anything but sadness. It was hard and harsh and it made Harry die in a completely different way. This thing tearing out of his mouth and trembling along his nerves was killing; it was the body and voice of death who held the knife against a victim's throat. It was the baseball bat that rained upon another person; it was the rage that motivated someone to bash their fists through flesh, bones, and skulls. It was the feeling Harry held secret in his mind, the last thing he felt before he blacked out with his wand digging into Voldemort's temple. Its nature whispered to Harry in the dark and lay restless under the confines Harry had trapped it in. If it could not satisfy itself outwardly, it was going to destroy him from the inside.
Harry hoped it would.
Harry tried to tell Luna to run away from him. He tried to tell her to kill him before he attacked. But she kept talking to him and Harry kept screaming and he knew that this was a nightmare, the worst nightmare ever, and he was going to be trapped inside it until he went insane. He could feel his sanity shredding against the agony of it, until he started to hear another sound, something rising over his own raw screaming. And then it was cascading over his vocal reaches, fighting back his hate, pain, and fear until it seemed to slap and claw at his own face. He tried to locate the sound, but his vision was fading against this nightmare and he knew that it was going to be over soon. He also knew that it was the most beautiful thing in the world; something completely different against his own voice. It was sad, but it was also like a submission of some kind; a sacrifice, really. When it rang off the dungeon walls, it gave off light while his voice made the room darker and darker. When it reached his ears, it soothed the pain his own screaming made. And it was filling him up, instead of emptying him like an overflowing cauldron. Harry was torn between the pain and the caress, but eventually the other sound won out...and then Harry knew where the sound came from. As he scrambled desperately on the threads of his departing dream, Harry knew that sound had saved him from the killing of Voldemort, from crumbling into insanity.
Luna's voice as she died.