The Poet

:: narrated mostly by Harry Potter ::

:: Authored by just a bit potty ::

:: key ::

(text) :: flashback

text :: thoughts

text :: counter-thoughts

Chapter IV - Exposed, sometimes a lie is better.

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER GETS PRETTY NASTY AT THE END. INCLUDES MAJOR ABUSE OF HARRY (MAINLY SEXUAL, NOT TOO GRAPHIC) AND I CAN’T BELIEVE I WROTE THIS, BUT IF YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THIS, THEN DON’T! I GAVE YOU FAIR WARNING!

IMPORTANT Pre-story stuff (must read): Okay, first off, nobody kill me please, for taking so long! ’ heheh.. Now, a couple of things... this I think will be the second last chapter of Harry’s P.O.V. This chapter is also UN-BETAED since I thought I’d better just get it out before people start up with the death-threats hehe...

Another thing... I HAVE DEFINITELY NOT ABANDONED my other major fic, ‘A Wet Tale’, soon to be renamed. I am actually rewriting it entirely, and so far it is coming along nicely, so don’t worry any of you that were reading it.

I also tried not to go into much detail at all with Harry’s Flashback (you’ll see) so there’s nothing TOO graphic really, I don’t describe much (I couldn’t bring myself to), but still, it's disturbing all the same and you know what’s happening (or at least, you should) so if you don’t like it, I advise you not to read.

Now, finally... I MUST send out huge thanks and apologies to all my reviewers ; I'm sorry this took so long guys...
EDIT: sowwy, i forgot to include someone in my thankyous! ; If I forgot anyone else, feel free to tell me so, I don't mind at all you all deserve to be mentioned, for reviewing

crissy, thehappytree, MissLilyStar (sowwy my beta, if you're still out there, I thought I'd better post this before my reviews turned into death-threats '), SoulSister, Sarah, Wheat Thins are yummy (lol well hehe hopefully I will never abandon any of my fics... I just right like to snails fuck...veeeeeeerrry slowly), linny (your questions will all be answered....eventually ;), Ko-chan to Ya-chan (Another great poem! I'll be using it for sure in later chapters. I'm so sorry this has taken so long ), Ikari Shinji-kun, Fate, MoonlightDream, Lizard13 (heehee your review made me laugh :P), Cass, engineer bob, Aticia, liolo, it's all in your head, dark angel, Lii, Jazzylady (you'll seeee lol but probably draco or one of harry's friends), faerie dust, E.A.V (I'm so amazed you get into my fic that much... thankyou so much for such a kind review! ), leftoversushi, texasjeanette, Maskam (all your questions will be answered soon!), bagira (thanks for reviewing! yes I did write that one, it was an on-the-spot last-minute thing because I couldn't find anything that fitted), look through me (ehehehe ; four months eh? I seriously hadn't realised ;), bitchmonkey (yessir!), and Ash of Mine!

And that’s it! I really hope this chapter doesn’t disappoint anybody. I’m really struggling with Harry’s POV and that’s what has taken me so long to get this out. I’m just not depressed enough to get into it anymore ; lol things should come along much easier once I switch POV’s.

EDIT: I changed the formatting a little, you probably won't notice though lol ;

Today it seems as if all time has stopped.

The rain seems to have frozen mid-air, the grounds of Hogwarts are deserted, empty, as if there was no life there within. Even my warm breath has frosted on the glass. Time has stopped, and my mind is filled with nothing but the soothing scratch of my ink-dipped pen on paper, and all I see is what I have written, what I have created. My eyes hungrily soak up each word as it materializes before me; the yellowed page spattered with the mottled light of the afternoon sun, dribbling through the massive cogwheels and pinions above me.

I like it this way. I feel... I feel almost........

All around me, the rest of the world ambles along happily, rolling forward with each tick… tock… tick… tock… I remain suspended within myself. I feel as if I'm looking out at the world from behind a soft sheet of white, muffling everything I see and hear. So clearly I feel the kiss on cold air on my skin, but my head is stuffed with a cotton that blots all thoughts.
I wonder if that is even my hand writing — that small, snow-white hand clutching around a flared feather pen. Maybe I am just peering over someone's shoulder; I look down, but there is only me. It is just me here, this part of me, a stranger to myself, staring through my own eyes. Far away, yet so close, to the part of me that remembers everything. I stay away from that Harry.

He knows too much...

For a moment, my eyes stray from the parchment draped over my knees. I follow the raindrops with my eyes. Rivulets that smash against the thick glass I rest against. They meander down the flat web of glass protecting the clock tower's inner mechanics from the outside elements. Each crystal droplet pooling hopelessly on the curved sill.

I feel as if I've been sitting here forever.

Maybe I have been.

I don't think that's true, though, because the last thing I remember is hurtling through the halls of this behemoth castle, shadows springing out at my from haunted corners, my feet leaping forward with no final destination, no purpose but to escape... (escape from what?)... Distress tearing at my every limb until I feared I would rip apart.
Goose-bumps ripple all over my waxen skin. Odd… but I don't feel cold anymore. I sweep my fingertips over the raised bumps of flesh on my arm. Underneath the scratchy material cloaking my body, purple impressions throb with dull pain.

But I thought I was safe here...

Safe? Safe from what?

Safe... from...

I shy away from those thoughts. They're bad. There's not supposed to be anything bad here. Not here.

Not here.

Lie here

tarnished wreckage
sweet innocence
broken upon the hands of Adam

bleeding child
so trembling, such fear

wraps around for a sacred cause 1

I drag my eyes away from the grey outside, and realize my quill is moving once more. Such pretty, flawless letters, not a drop of spilt ink. Inside, the heart I could have sworn I didn't have aches with the knowledge that I can see what I'm writing. Something insists its time for me to see. But I don't understand, really... why I couldn't see before?
That thought causes a timid giggle to spill from my lips. I don't even know 'before'. Was there ever a 'before'?
There must be... but it isn't for me to know.
I do know that… when I think back on that night when I ran hopelessly through the shadow-striped halls… If 'before' is made up of things like that... I am better off not knowing. If I try to remember, if I try to guess the unknown… Echoes of fear, pain and sorrow reverberate in my hollow chest. I don't want to remember. I am better off without those memories. Inside, I drift without emotion; I am content with the numbness that clouds my soul.

Above me, the cogs and gears churn loudly, and the clock tolls the third hour.

"Harry!"

My hand stills impulsively. A sudden presence looms beside me; I can feel the huffs and puffs of their strained breaths washing over my skin. I hug the yellowed sheets of paper to my thin chest. My eyes trail leisurely up the vertical sweep of dull grey robes and encounter a striped pattern of gold and red. A Gryffindor. Gryffindor… yes, that's Gryffindor... of course... I knew that. Farther up, I meet a face dappled all over with freckles, and concentrate on a pair of worried blue eyes.
"You're at it again, aren't you?" the small bow of a mouth moves, but it takes me a moment to register his wobbly voice.
"Ron," I say. Yes… of course… Ron. My... best friend.

Is he? Is he really?

"Harry," the sigh that leaves him plummets to the floor despondently; his head has dropped with a weary hopelessness. I only level him with a lackadaisical stare. A nebulous question eddies in my eyes. "Harry… this has to stop. Everyone is so worried about you. The teachers, Hermione… me. It's not normal."
Spotted darkness flashes before my eyes as I blink. I'm not in the mood to listen to this friend, whatever he wants. My fingers curl tighter around the delicate pen. Black ink oozes onto my paper. I rub my finger over it, and feel nothing.
The words are illegible now. Some part of me mourns.
"Harry! Aren't you listening to me at all?"
I turn my face towards the frosted glass and watch my breath wash over it. I don't want to listen.
"Please, Harry," his voice is choked by a sob, and against my will I meet his shimmering blue eyes. So pale... "It's been two weeks now! Before that you'd being doing fine, hadn't you? At least you would still smile... I should have known, though... Hermione told me, she told everyone — it wasn't healthy for them to just... to just let you go! But now... ever since... Ever since Dumbledore took away your Head Boy status—" ...I was... Head Boy...? "—you... It's not the end of the world, Harry! I know you're upset about... him... but... you can't just... Ugh! You seemed okay when you left Dumbledore's office! Did someone say something to you? Do something? Was it Malfoy?"

Malfoy? Malfoy…

Yes... you remember, don't you? Malfoy...

(SLAP!

'Merlin, Harry, I'm so sorry…I don't know what came over me!')

My head jerks violently; stop it! I don't want to remember! It's bad, it's bad! Bad memories, bad things!

But the words reverberate around my skull; with each pulsing repetition, I feel the slap against my cheek. I blink rapidly to clear my eyes, but I can't see anything beyond flashing silver eyes. My throat swells with the pressure of my heart trying to escape. My chest feels like a gaping black hole; a hungry maw of nothingness that sucks in my soul. No…

My cheek still stings. But it's just a phantom pain... a memory...

"Harry! Please! What's the matter?! I'm your best friend, won't you tell me what's wrong? Something? Anything?"

I'm trapped in his watery gaze, but feel nothing as I recognize the fear welling in his eyes. My lips tremble silently and I feel small and weak in the force of that gaze. I feel... I feel...

But I don't want to... somebody, please, make it stop...

('Help me, somebody! Please, please make it stop!'

Rrrrrrrip!)

"Harry...? Merlin, what is WRONG?! You can tell me. I won't even tell Hermione if you don't want me to."

Panicked fingers dig into my bony shoulders. Jagged knives of pain spear down my arms, but all I can do is shiver.

Tell you? I want to scream, tell you what? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!

Those fingers suddenly let go, and Ron is scuttling backwards, staring at me with eyes wide as saucers. I shy away, cringing against the glass. "...What do I want from you, Harry?" Had I spoken...aloud...? "You're acting crazy, Harry, you're—"

A brown flurry of feathers interrupts him, elegantly swooping between the cogs and gears above to land with a huff right beside me. The strange owl thrusts out its leg, fixing me with a yellow stare. I automatically relieve it of the small, rolled up parchment. My own papers slide to the floor, forgotten. It's mostly ruined, anyway...

"Harry, what is it?"

I realise I'm still clutching the owl's message. Ron shoos the bird away, but it only hops along the window's rim before skipping with a flourish of its wings to the stony floor.

I unfold the note, with a faint sense of deja vu.

Dear Mr. Potter,
I request that you meet Prof. Snape in the Potions classroom immediately for a continuation of your Occlumency lessons. I realise that after your sixth year, this will be terribly difficult for you, but I must insist. It is imperative, Harry, that you master this before Voldemort becomes any stronger. As it is, I fear it may not be enough, but this is all we can do for now. Prof. Snape will be waiting. I trust you will do what you feel is right.
Sincerely, Prof. Dumbledore

Occlumency. Occ-lu-men-cy... why does that word send thrills of fear through my body. Occlumency... occlumency... A shudder rips through me as I stumble to my feet. For a long time, I stare at Ron, my... friend. I stare at him, and he only stares back. Tear tracks glisten on his pale cheeks.

Why do I make people cry...?

You cause them so much pain...

"I... have to go see... someone."

Ron only stands there, a solemn statue, as I slowly walk away.

He left you

pure angel defiled
o the blood the blood

so much drains away
staining the wooden flanks 1

Colour slowly drains from the walls and floors as I descend into the dungeons. In black and white I find my way through winding passages to a foreboding door. Snape's door. My hand flinches away from the rotting wood... Part of me wishes that I was back in the watch tower with... with... that boy... what was his name?
So dreamlike, I feel like maybe I wasn't there, after all. But if I wasn't there, where was I...?

The door before me suddenly rips open so violently I'm afraid the wood will suddenly collapse and crumble.

I'm ensnared by endless black eyes.

"Mr. Potter... how kind of you to join me," the dulcet tones are laced with the snap of a viper. A slender white hand gestures for me to enter, and I find my feet obeying the silent command. Like a lamb I'm lead into the dank room.

"Against my better judgement, Mr. Potter, Professor Dumbledore has insisted we resume our Occlumency lessons. I suppose it is too much to even hope you've improved, however."

My eyes droop to the floor. What is he talking about? The urge to hug myself is hard to fight. I feel so small and insignificant... has it always been this way?

"Look at me, Potter..."

My stomach lurches suddenly with a strong ripple of fear — all this is so familiar...

"I won't ask again, Mr. Potter, look at me."

Against my will, I find myself meeting his eyes. All I see is those narrowed, coal-dark eyes, glaring into mine. The minutes crawl past, agonisingly slow. I'm not sure what is supposed to be happening but... the professor seems to grow more frustrated by the second. Inside my mind, I feel a constant pressure... pulsing against my consciousness. Pushing, pushing... trying to escape. Trying to invade. A whimper chokes past my aching throat. Please stop... please...Ahh!

('PLEASE STOP! STOP! PLE—!'

Gagging...)

Those pools of black widen a fraction. Thin lips press firmly together. I want to cry out, to beg him to stop...whatever he is doing to me. My head feels so full... pressing against the surface.

I struggle so hard... I try... I try... but... I...

I fall...

no one to care
none could find the enamoured light

life fading from thine eyes
death's valley
welcomes so many

such tears shed
will not bring back

what lacked so long 1

!! W A R N I N G !!

WARNING!! WARNING!! THIS IS WHERE IT GETS NASTY. DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU DON’T WANT TO READ HARRY’S FLASHBACK. WARNING!! WARNING!!

(( "What is it, girl? Hungry? I'm sorry; I don't have any food right now. Maybe later," a soft voice murmurs, heavy with defeat. It's a boy, thin and pale, hunched over piles of books and parchment.

The snowy white owl only hoots louder, flapping pristine wings from behind iron bars. The boy grows frustrated. Trouble would come if she didn't stop.

"What is it? You know I can't let you out. What do you want?" Green eyes flick toward the door, cringing at the sound of a chair scraping over freshly polished tiles. Heavy, thumping footsteps and angry muttering. "Please be quiet, Hedwig."

But the bird's squawking only escalates, yellow eyes wide with fear. Leaden feet stomp up the stairs.

"Hedwig, why can't you just shut the hell up?!" the boy hisses, clutching the bars of her cage in tight fists. "You're going to get me in—,"

"Boy!" The angry growl of a monster from beyond his door. Eyes wide with fright, the boy whirls to face his prison's entrance, knocking the parchments and books from the table. The doorknob twists... "I told you to keep that ruddy bird silent!"

Terrified, the boy lunges forward and flips the flimsy lock. Won't hold long. He himself leans against it... anything to keep the monster out.

"Don't you dare shut me out boy, you'll regret it... OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!"

The boy shakes his head silently, tears streaming down his cheeks. The door shudders. Rusty hinges protest. Bang. Bang. Bang. BANG!

Shoved forward by the door bursting suddenly open. He cries out.

Framed by the doorway is a monstrously sized man, his face purple with rage.

"I'm sorry, sir! I just... I—,"

"No! I've had enough of your excuses, boy. This is the last straw."

The boy cowers back, fear swirling in his eyes. The huge man slowly stalks forward, fists clenched tightly.

"I've tried to be lenient with you, boy, I've tried. But you just INSIST on pushing me. You INSIST on being the snot-nosed brat your useless father was. I've had it up to here, boy, and there's only so much I can take," an insidious voice, dangerously low, trembling with a deadly anger. "You refuse to learn. You REFUSE. I've tried boy, but I'm afraid there's only one way to get through to you now..."

The boy screams as a meaty hand grabs his hair and pulls him close to the man's body. Foul breath washes over his face. "I'll teach you..."

Flung so hard by a heavy slap, it is the wall his body hits first. Tossed like a rag-doll, no time to recover as a hand grips his thin ankle. Dragged across the floor. Dragged over paper and clothes. Dragged until the bed towers above him, the bare mattress and lonely pillow.

The man fists the back of his shirt, pulling it tight across his throat. He chokes. Strangles. Can't breath—

Rrrrrrrip!

Scraps of his shirt flutter to the floor. Shoved onto the bed. He hugs the lone pillow, desperate.

Crushed, as impossible weight settles over his legs. Hands run over his back, his arms, his thighs, everywhere... Another rip. It's just fabric. Skin everywhere, so naked, so bare. He hugs the pillow closer.

More clothing rustles. He sobs in fear. Hands capture his, force them between thick, sweaty thighs. Panic!

"Please—I don't want to—No!—don't make me—please—,"

"You don't like this boy? Why not? You're nothing but a whore after all — just like your filthy mother! Ha! Maybe you'll like something else then."

The boy cries. "Somebody... PLEASE! Help me!!!"

"It's no use crying for help, boy, there's no one here who'll help you!"

He shuts his eyes tightly as the huge body looms between his legs. "Please—no—AH!"


A scream.


He can't stop screaming.

he broke you

o yes
he cursed and violated you
such perverse sin

lies here in this wreckage
o death what beautiful peace

wish you not such darken'd freedom? 1

To be continued...

1 This amazing poem was given to me for use by my the wonderful Miss Lily Star! She showed it to me and it was just right for this chapter. It’'s all hers; I had no part in it! It is called Maiden Child and I only used the first half she gave me, as it is VERY long (and lovely) but too long to use all of it.

PLEASE REVIEW, READERS! I PROMISE NOT TO MAKE YOU WAIT 4 MONTHS FOR ANOTHER UPDATE THIS TIME! PLEEEEEEEEZE REVIEW, it's a MUST! DON'T MAKE ME HOLD THIS FIC RANSOM AGAIN! LOL .' Lets try to make it to 150 maybe? Me greedy author! want yummy yummy reviews!