"The Fine Art of Falling Apart."
Chapt. 3
There are things I don't know (more or less the things I should know):
1. Why I like boys.
2. Why I can't seem to concentrate in class.
3. Why are Muggles able to survive without magic?
4. Why is Oric called the Oddball (or is it Uric?)
5. Why my parents/everyone in the world seem to only notice me around Harry.
6. Why I'm still taking Divination even though I promised myself to drop it this year.
7. Why I'm sleeping with a guy who only tolerates me for my body.
8. Why I have the urge to call him "Draco" even when we aren't having sex.
Harry keeps trying to talk to me. I know I should be ready to talk to him, but I'm not.
Hell, I just realized that I'm gay, that I don't like girls…
Faggot… the darkest trenches of my mind whispers in my ear.
Besides, Harry probably wants to ask if it is him I've been crushing on.
Oh of all the days to feel dread and despair it had to be the day that I have Trelawney as a teacher.
I mean its not as if I hate her or anything… ok that's a lie I do hate her, but not as much as Snape.
After last night I feel the sharp knife of despair all the more clearly. I swear that if a madman had come into the castle with the asking for volunteers for "Avada Kevada" I would've looked for him myself.
Is it that bad...? I knew that there would be a day that I would have voices in my head.
"Ron?" The voice is timid, uncertain.
"Yes?" I know the familiar way that the sound of words comes out of that mouth. I know how it pains the one person I thought of as my beloved, that I won't turn around to face.
"Um… why did you run last night?" He doesn't know how to put the question without be blunt about it.
"I don't know… because I disgust you?" It comes out as more of a question. I could die right there right now.
He sighs. I could just imagine the timbers in his vocal cords shifting in one motion. Hermione calls that abstract art. I continue on my quest to find clean clothes.
"I don't find you disgusting. I… I was surprised." I don't even want to turn around to answer him. I know the truth. I seen it pasted on his face. I am not as blind as they like to think Ron Weasley is.
Something in my demeanor must have alerted him, because of all the sudden my senses are warped by his arms around my waist.
Hugging me from behind.
Oh my god…
"I don't find you disgusting." He repeats himself. I don't think I would breathe even if I could try. His head is on my back. His whisper lost in to my ears as I feel a physical intimacy that I would've never felt if we were 12 once again.
It seems as if Time had stopped as we stand there. The small breathes I am forced to take. The deep rising of his chest pushed into my lower back.
The door busts open as fast as we jump apart. I crash into the space between my trunk and nightstand. I know that it's Seamus and Dean arguing about some trivial thing by the way they both stomp over beside their beds.
I gingerly get up as they give their greetings to Harry, not even bothering to laugh at my fall.
"Hey Harry, you going to be going down to the Quidditch Pitch tonight? 'Cause I hear that Slytherin has Snape signing papers to use it tonight." Seamus, can there be a human in existence that does not talk as simple as he?
"Well they can take it tonight. We have it tomorrow morning." Harry, always the gentleman towards his peasants.
Laughing I hear them leave. Getting up finally from one of the most uncomfortable positions I have ever endured (Malfoy has never been this uncomfortable).
I'm looking at Harry for the first time since last night. The way that he seems to look wearier, more aged. His pitch black hair, in contrast of the pale blond that usually is clutched in my hands. His green eyes open with concern and ignorance. So unlike the ice grey ones that bypass me in arrogance.
His handsome face that I wish could be mine.
But alas, that can never be. Will never be.
"Harry… do you even know what your doing?" The hurt in my voice is echoed in the silent dorm.
He just stares at me. His rose petal lips sharpened by the small frown upon his lips.
Silence is all that I can hear. And soon it is all I can feel.
Bowing my head I finally get my reply.
"I don't know. But why did it have to be MALFOY!" I'm startled by the angry emotion at the end of this statement. As though he really couldn't imagine it, as though with my bowed head I can't hear him.
His breathing has become heavy. I know how he looks. Haven't I seen it enough times for the past year. Haven't I seen it as ignorance became the world's bread.
I want to cry. Deep in my heart I'm wishing that Percy will appear in the door and hold me like he last held me. Deep inside my soul I want to feel the innocent love that I lost when I started school. When I became the world's most famous child's best friend.
Harry Potter.
Oh, why did he have to be Harry Potter? Why couldn't he have been someone else? Someone that I wouldn't have wanted so badly that it drove me into the arms of the enemy.
There are things I don't know (more or less the things I should know):
Why I like boys.
His emerald green eyes are demanding a response. They want to know. And I'm afraid of giving that answer.
Looking up into his eyes, I see something that I never wanted to see.
5. Why I'm sleeping with a guy who only tolerates me for my body
"I… I … want it." My god, that probably wasn't the right thing to say.
"You want it?" Jeez. Don't sound too disgusted.
I nod. Looking at him with deviance. I don't care what he thinks of that. My own sexual preference, wouldn't you get that I like boys for a reason.
He looks at me. As if debating whether or not to throw himself out of the window right beside him.
I sigh and once again turn my back on him.
"Harry. Shouldn't you worry about things that actually matter? Turn around I'm changing."
Sitting in Charms I barely pay attention. Drawing, I find myself lost to it. Even Hermione's sniffs of irritation can't bother me.
Your own little world of seclusion.
Indeed.
The Fine Art of Falling Apart
I walk alone and I
I ride alone and I
I rock myself to sleep
Baby, there ain't room enough in this world
For people like you and horrors like me.A time of darkness
There lived a girl in a cave in the woods
Disguised as a bee
At night she would fly into the city
Sting the cause
And sting the cost
And she would hover over me
Whispering
And so we sing
We're surfacing
We're surfacing
I stand alone and I
I fight alone and I
Stay clean by feeling cheap
And baby, there ain't enough room in this world
For perfection's like you
And monsters like me
A time of darkness
You will look absurd and you will feel in inert
And you will go looking to blame somebody
You see I used to think that I'd get over everything
But everything just got
Over me
I'm some of it
You're some of it
We're some of it
I'm certain of it
I walk alone and I
I ride alone and you know
That's all right by me
See baby cause
Here ain't enough room in this world
For a great, great many things.
- Matthew Good Band
I have a fair idea that I've been singing aloud. But I don't care my drawing has begun to take on a definitive shape. I don't know what exactly is going on in the picture and I just don't care. My whole world seems to be in a box. Whilst I float around.
There's a thousand worlds flicking in my eye. In some way I think it's turning into one of those ridiculous angel things… I don't really know anything about those things. In my own childhood religion played absolutely no role. Not even when death was beckoning at the door.
The angel is holding a bloody sword and driving into the back of another angel. Blood is being poured out of the invisible wound. The dying hands clutching the forearms. The sky storms overhead, as the animals and plants of the field look on.
The faces are beginning to emerge.
"Ron! Pay attention!" I could strangle her right now.
I snap my head up ready to kill, but the face of Professor Flitwick comes into view.
"Detention." His voice is relatively calm as he says that. Even though his face is the utmost mad as I have ever seen him.
I nod, putting away my stuff and bringing out my work. Before realizing class is over.
Eating is one of my more favourable pastime activities.
"Ron! Slow down that's disgusting." Ha! Whatever I haven't Aten since yesterday, thank you very much.
I open my mouth for Hermione to get a full view.
Getting slapped is worth everyone's enjoyment at the moment. Harry and Ginny are laughing. Neville choking on a piece of meat.
Most of all the familiar dirty looks coming from the Slytherin table.
The way that it should be.
Sighing in content I lean back.
(OK… so I think I'm going to be adding to the plot.)
Oh and just so its clear. Draco and Ron are not "boyfriends". Draco is too mean to him, and Ron is too involved with not be involved with girls. As well I think I should raise the answer that, yes I think that there might be some form of incest between Ron and Percy… how that comes about you'll have to wait and see… I'll be getting to the bloody war scenes pretty soon.
