A/N: The inspiring song was Muse's Unintended. A lovely song, really. And this chapter is even longer than the latter one, I try not to make the future chapters this long, for the sake of my lovely beta's mental health. This chapter is dedicated to Janche, my dear friend, who's turning seventeen today!
There won't be updates for about three weeks at least, since my beta is going for a vacation.
And dahlings, reviews are nutritive.
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So here we are. I can't be too sure about myself, I could just as well be in that private haven of mine where the doors open to only one person, the one I'm comforting in my arms.
The embrace is slightly awkward in every way, but nonetheless it couldn't be more perfect. The position I try to maintain makes my hurt lower back ache even more, since I'm bent over and he's sitting, his arms are around my chest and mine are around his neck. It would be easier for me to just straddle him, but such a position would be way too intimate considering the fact that I only met him for the first time today. A small voice in the back of my mind whispers: 'It hasn't bothered you before. Such a distributing box you are.'
All I know about him is that his name is Harry Potter, he drinks his coffee with sugar, has a heterosexual idiot as a friend, owns a car, and is the most fabulous man I have ever met, in more ways than one.
I feel his breath against my neck, and it sends shivers down my spine. His firm jaw feels so good against my shoulder, his dark hair against the soft skin of my cheek. He inhales my scent, and I feel his nose nuzzle against the curve where my neck meets my shoulder. I bite my lip, the embrace is not the 'Hey, it's ok, mate' kind of hug to me anymore.
Ugh, the word 'mate' reminds me of a certain annoying (but physically quite lovely) guy I met a while ago. He's one of those heterosexual-looking football lovers who worship beer, talk about sex in that certain boastful way, and let their partners iron their clothes or else they let the clothes be wrinkly. They tell you to shut up when they're watching some violent sport on TV always when you want to snuggle next to them, and even if they did let you bury yourself in their side you could just as well not be there at all. Their limp arm would just lay there across your shoulders or the backrest of the sofa, and would punch the air immediately if some person on TV, wearing clothes that are a crime against fashion, manages to score. The next night the sex would be violent or very intimate, depending on the match's result.
These thoughts make me frown, and I can't recall ever sharing a hug like this with Kyle. Harry's presence is much warmer, and the feeling of being safe makes my limbs feel heavy and sleepy. Harry lets his arms drop a little, and I pull away, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze and before I take my seat again.
"Thanks", he says in a low voice.
My smile is the sort of apologetic half-smile that isn't meant to be cheering, but reassuring. Who would want to beam like nothing negative had happened when it's so obvious that this is not the case? That would be utter deception, I say. Fooling ourselves and others even though we know that we are tricking no one. What is the point of such behaviour? Showing that we know our manners, that we are civilized and capable of that fake smile that the 'sophisticated' people smile at their tea parties? I know that I'd be able to act like the Prince of the Pretty People, I was taught all that classy shit when I was a kid. By looking at my outer appearance, though, people could easily think that my dad was some anonymous drunkard and my mother some stupid little blonde whore who couldn't refuse a paying dick when she saw one.
I might prefer a family like that rather than the real one I have. No, had.
In the caf's background some apparently young woman with a fragile, but beautiful and clear voice, is singing some song I haven't heard before, and for a minute I can't help but listen to her and welcome the peacefulness that her voice pours upon me. Closing my eyes I let the negative thoughts fly away and I concentrate on this moment, just being here in the coffee shop, opposite the man who pulled me out of my former reality as I stood on the edge, about to discover another dimension of existence. Today I found out that there are other people in my dimension, people that can enter and influence it without me noticing anything at first, and suddenly I find myself in a totally different place, in a place where I could go without shedding a single drop of blood on asphalt. As Harry touched me for the first time today on that roof, I found a reality that seems to be a much better option than the painful one I thought would be the correct one.
A porcelain dish shatters somewhere in the café, and I open my eyes in a second. I see him looking at me directly in the eye, a weird expression on his face.
"You do that a lot", he says a matter of factly.
"Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind."
"I bet. And I'm sorry, too, for what Ron said. He's not usually that hostile, he's a nice bloke once you get to know him."
"I guess I have to believe you. My first confrontation with him might just have been a bad one. Maybe he was just having a bad hair day." 'I bet he was, all that red mess was in serious need of a haircut.' "He doesn't seem to be the most open-minded person, though. 'Fairy queen'…" I snort.
The corner of his mouth twitches upwards a little. "Well, he's Ron. He has a temper and when he thinks he's right about something, he'll try to make others see things his way, too."
"I've gotten used to that kind of attitude. Not too many people are pro-gay and think it's okay when a guy wears make-up."
"Then why do you?"
"I don't know. I just like it. I've lived up to expectations my whole life and this is what I am and want to do. I see nothing wrong with it." I shrug and scratch my collarbone.
"A rebel, are you not?" he smirks as he looks at me, his eyes glinting.
I roll my eyes, smiling. "I guess so. Rebellious against the society's ideals."
"Just the society's?"
I consider this for a while. "No."
He nods. "Do you want another cup of coffee? It seems like the rain is not going to stop for a while."
"No thank you. I've had enough caffeine for the evening. If I drink any more I'm not going to get any sleep before morning." 'Not that I would have slept at all anyways. Too busy thinking of you.'
"Maybe something else that'll warm you up? You're shivering", he says, frowning.
I hadn't noticed that before, but he's right. Even though we've sat here inside for quite a while my sleeveless is still wet and my trousers must have dampened the seat. He takes his brown mocha jacket from the armrest and wraps it around my shoulders. It's warm and smells of Harry. Just Harry and slightly of the cologne he uses. The soft beige wool inside the jacket feels nice against my skin and the vibrations my senses send is enough to make me feel warm. Maybe more from inside, but gradually the warmth spreads to my numb limbs, too. Jesus, I've met a gentleman!
"You're very sweet, but no thank you, I'm fine as it is." But that's a lie. I want more. Much more.
"Okay. But just say if you want something, I'm not exactly broke and about to get kicked out of my apartment."
I turn to Harry, who apparently has noticed the time, too.
"So… I guess it's time to leave?" He suggests and stands up. Following his example, I rise and notice this ridiculous wet spot on my arse that didn't dry as I sat on that chair for… Oh, I don't know, but pretty near two hours, anyways.
It's raining even more than it was when I came here, and the pedestrian street is vacant, apart from one lady who hurries somewhere under her umbrella. The parking area in front of the supermarket next to the unlit park is empty of all vehicles, and the shops' windows are almost all dark and unwelcoming at this hour. The apartments above the shops seem dead and quiet from outside, since only a few of them hold any kind of faint glow behind the closed curtains.
I can see the silhouette of a person looking down at the street from the fourth floor, perhaps right at us. He (I believe it's a male) doesn't move, just sits there facing the street. It's oddly creepy, to know that someone is looking at you, and can see you very clearly under the light of the street lamps, but you can't see the spectator's features at all. The street lamp under which I stand with Harry flickers slightly and I pull the coat tighter around me, finding an old receipt in the pocket (I can't help being curious) and accidentally smearing the ink, as a droplet of water from the tip of my nose hits the thin piece of paper. I cast one more glance at the person in the window and see him gone.
"Come on, I'm getting soaked", Harry tugs at the coat I have on my shoulders, and as I look at him I have to smile at the sight. There are trickles running down his cheeks and forehead, dripping from his locks and chin.
"Okay." I shake my head, sending droplets flying around, and Harry grumbles in mock irritation.
We hurry along the street, turning around the corner where his metallic blue car is parked, standing there all alone in the rain. Harry digs into his pockets to find the keys and frowns.
"Looking for these?" I hang a bundle of keys on my index finger and throw it to Harry, who smiles and opens the doors with a 'beep' as he pushes a button on the key.
Soon enough I collapse onto the seat next to driver's, wrenching the door shut and sighing in contentment. I hear the hard rain hit the roof and the windows, and it somehow feels extremely nice, soothing. Like when you're a kid and build those little tents in your living room. You are safe, hiding, and you imagine that no one can see you. You have something your own, your own place, and even though the car's not mine I feel like this is my own hollow that isn't dependant on anything that goes on outside.
We attach the seatbelts and Harry starts the car. The soft purr and the smell of a new car indicate that Harry Potter is not an indigent idler. I see some formal-looking papers peeking from the locker in front of me and many other places where papers can possibly be stuffed, and the backseat is basically covered with all kinds of objects. Bundles of paper, pens, paper fasteners, a black briefcase, paper and plastic bags, an empty crisp bag, a loose dark green tie and a white button-up shirt, scissors, an unopened bottle of wine, a few books, a black case that looks like one of those you keep your laptop in, and a few packages wrapped in brown paper.
"Okay, so where do you live?"
I give him my address, but he doesn't know where the place is, so I have to give him directions. I, of course, only mention the slightly longer way. Wouldn't want to get stuck in the busiest crossings, would we?
Otherwise we don't talk too much, I just gaze in front of me and see different coloured lights whip past me. Harry concentrates on driving and occasionally hums along to the song he plays on CD.
The journey's not long and all too soon he parks his car at the block where I live. He grabs his umbrella from under his seat and offers to walk me to my doorstep.
To my doorstep.
Oh, but I don't mind, not at all, he holds the umbrella above us as we walk across the parking area. At the door he puts the thing away and we step into the hall where the elevator and the list of the building's inhabitants are.
The hall is dark as I look at Harry, who's standing in front of the pale white light that comes from outside. The other half of his face is covered with deep shadows, angular and sharp, but the other half is illuminated in an ethereal sort of way. As he stands there in his black jeans and a well-fitting, blood red turtleneck he casts a long shadow over me, involuntarily stopping the time's running as I hold my breath at the sight.
It's beautiful, he looks like an unpredictable angel from black heaven, an angel that might just as well be the devil in disguise.
I must have gaped like a fish, since soon his face twists into a smile that would probably have looked heart-melting in good lighting, but now he looks scary, to say the least. The way his perfect white teeth contrast with the shadows on his face, and the way his smile creates new angles is frightening, and gives him the impression of a vampire on the prowl. Even though I'm slightly terrified, I'm also fascinated. There's something extremely sexual in his appearance, looking back at me like I was something he had been looking for and had found.
Swallowing I push the glowing orange button on the wall and the hall is illuminated in an instant. The Harry I know is there again, stepping past me and opening the door of the elevator for me.
I don't know why, but I have this awful feeling about something… Like something bad is going to happen within minutes and as I approach my apartment the moment draws nearer. I feel my heartbeat accelerating in my chest. It's like a clock and as the second hand ticks a lump in my throat rises and slight sweat breaks over my upper lip and in my eyebrows.
The elevator stops with a jerk and I push the door open. I walk to my door and turn to Harry. We both feel awkward and it shows. I cough and quickly glance at my feet, then back at him.
"Thanks for the coffee, it was really nice talking to someone", I say and hand him the coat.
He takes it and holds it in his arms a bit like a waiter. "You're welcome, I enjoyed it, too. Even though there was that unfortunate incident with Ron, but still." He grimaces, but nonetheless grins lopsidedly.
"Yeah…" I'm running out of words. "Maybe he's just not used to people being different." Somehow I feel like I'm talking non-sense and making myself look like a total moron. I cough again to distract myself.
"Maybe… Oh, but I won't keep you any longer, it's twenty to one already and I bet you want to get some sleep. Hey, if you feel like talking sometime, I dunno, just call me. Here's my card."
I take it. "Okay. Once again, thank you for everything." I open my door. "Good night."
"Good night."
Smiling at him once more I close the door behind me and kick my shoes off.
This evening was supposed to be the one that turns my situation upside-down, and it did, but differently than I originally thought.
Suddenly someone slams me against the door and I gasp in surprise.
"Where were you?" It's Kyle, his face inches away from mine. He's towering over me and clutching my shirt tightly in his fist.
"Outside", I answer calmly, my palms flat against the door and fingers spread apart.
"You think I'm stupid? Of course you were outside! With whom?"
I feel like I'm cornered, like a wild animal at which someone is pointing a gun. Since I hesitate with my answer for few seconds too long Kyle clutches my shirt even more tightly and pushes me against the door again.
"WITH WHOM?"
"Some person I met today." I see his eyes widening in fury and I go on hastily. "It was no one special, we just talked for a while and then I came home."
It seems like he's buying my explanation, a bit reluctantly, though, and the corners of his mouth twist into a smile, and it looks almost gentle. Stepping nearer he gives my forehead a kiss, and puts his arms around my waist, then starts kissing my neck. I relax somewhat, but then I feel him tensing.
"What is this?" He sniffs my neck. "It's some cologne. Men's cologne." He steps away from me, observing my features. I can hear the silence echoing in the apartment. "And it's not yours."
Before I know what happened, I feel a fist connect with my jaw. "You fucking slut!" He shouts and punches me in my stomach. I shriek at the contact, trying to cover the hurt area. "You whoring little shit! Can't let you go anywhere, can I? With you swinging your arse at any passing male!"
He kicks my shin and aims another good blow in my stomach, making me double over. I taste blood in my mouth and cough uncontrollably.
I try to calm him down, touching his arm hesitantly. "Kyle –"
"You –"
He pulls my hair and I claw at his hands.
"- worthless –"
Kyle yanks my head backwards, forcing me to drop to my knees in front of him and expose my throat. My pathetic attempts to escape aren't working.
"- cock sucking –"
He hits me across the face, and I feel my teeth piercing the tissue of my inner lips. Something warm and sticky runs down my chin. I collapse onto the floor, but he lifts me back up by the neck of my shirt.
"- whimpering –"
He kicks my knee and I scream at the piercing pain. He takes hold of my bloodied hair and makes me look at him in the eye. I don't see much anymore and my sense of reality is hovering somewhere above my head.
"- piece of –"
But I never hear what I am, for he slams my head against the door frame and graciously I lose my consciousness, blackness taking over my vision and limply I crumble to the floor.
I also don't hear the terrified gasp nor the desperate apologizes of Kyle's as he notices what he's done. I don't feel how he craddles me against his chest, runs his fingers through my hair and carries me to my bed, laying me down gently.
The apologizes, the kisses, the promises, the touches, the moans and grunts… They all go past me as I lay on the bed, oblivious to what Kyle is doing to me.
Shaking my head clear of those thoughts I lift my gaze to look around me. I can see two windmills on a hill a bit further away, going around and around slowly, in no hurry to complete their eternal task of just going around and around, around and around…
I am floating in the air now, just above a narrow river with crystal clear water, and I can see that instead of normal small stones the bottom of the river is covered with round gemstones. Emeralds and diamonds, amethysts and sapphires, opals and rubies, and white and black pearls on a bed of golden sand. The water is rippling softly, and I land at the shore to drink the water, I'm thirsty. My eyes are shining and I see my reflection on the surface of the water. My face isn't dirty, I'm not wearing make-up and my clean hair is ruffled slightly. I look healthy, my skin is cream coloured and radiating. As I glance at the blue sky I only see a few clouds somewhere far away, disappearing behind the horizon.
I decide to go sit on a rainbow and bouncing from the ground I spring onto it, swaying my legs over the edge and letting my palms touch the upper-most, red line on which I sit. One end of the rainbow is on one side of the river, and the other is on the opposite side, like one big, colourful bridge.
A few swallows fly past me, chasing flies or whatever, and suddenly a butterfly lands on the tip of my nose and I have to look cross-eyed to see it. I don't really like bugs, but I don't mind this one, since it's so pretty, opening and closing its wings and flashing the beautiful colours in front of my eyes. I notice my bed floating under my rainbow and I hop onto it, landing softly, and instantly falling asleep among the soft pillows.
I let my dream land lull me to sleep, a warm summer zephyr soothing all wrinkles of worry from my face. Everything outside my inner world can be considered irrelevant, for all I feel is soft and smooth and milky.
Then I hear a loud bang, like a lightning that splits the sky and turns it black, something thick and glue-like oozing from the cracks, and as the substance falls to the ground it corrodes the flowers and lets them decay in the brown-black ground.. The earth swallows the windmills, the river's water, stones flow into the crack in the ground, and the rainbow's colours turn black, grey and white. The bed falls, and I crash heavily to the ground, pain's concept entering my sanctuary.
All over them.
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..
… TBC …
carrot: I don't really have anything against Ron, but the image of a homophobic suits my purposes quite well. He's not a bad person, just...just Ron.
sylver: Draco's usually described as a shallow person, i honestly think that he isn't such, or at least hope so.
sak: I wasn't quite sure if the embrace was a good ending, i don't really like overly-mushy scenes or stories. But damn, it seems like i've created a slightly cough soppy Draco here... Oh well, things can change ;)
dangerous-beans: Thank you. I dunno about the level of the future chapters, but it seems like that as the story continues, i come up with new and better ideas all the time (i don't have a too well-planned plot here, just scenes and ideas). I had written the fourth chapter totally differently at first, and since i didn't like the first version i had to write a new one. I dislike clichés in stories, and even though i'm quite sure i can't prevent some from appearing in this fic i nevertheless try to write something that isn't too common.
GaBoO: English isn't my first language, either, but I still prefer writing in English. i dunno why, but it might be because i don't really read anything in my mother tongue (Finnish) anymore because of the international school I'm attending. I've studied Spanish for one course, and yes, it's a beautiful language and didn't seem too difficult, either. Finnish is nearly impossible.
Brucie Anceling: hehe, thanks. I didn't exactly plan Draco to be like Brian, but i see rather many similarities between them now that i think about it...
Ravencrow: I am one of those authors who write stories and then might just drop them all of a sudden. but don't worry, i'm not gonna lose interest in this one. It might be my best fic since Draco Darling's MerryGoRound.
Shadow Weaver and Ikira: I dunno if you'll 'see inside Harry's head' in this story the same way as Draco's, i'd like to keep Harry a bit of a mystery... Draco doesn't see inside his head, so neither can I. And don't worry, Ron's not gonna end up being the ultimate bad guy, there are other characters to do that job.
I wanna also thank Harryschic23, Serenity Slytherin, Kimmy15, Suraka-chan, ura, Mary, DanishGirl and Dragenphly for reviewing. I'm too sluggish to answer to all reviews, so from now on I'll just answer to those that ask something or have something new to say about the fic. But i love all your reviews, they brigten my day and give me much much much motivation to write! it's nice to know that the stuff i write isn't total crap :)