A/N: This is the 9th (whoa!) chapter of Acrobat already! The song's The Vines's Autumn Shade, a marvellous song I say. Downloading recommended, it gave me the mood to write this chapter.
This chapter contains Finnish, but seeing as not too many understand it here, there are translations, too. Sorry if they confuse you, I thought it was easier to put them directly after the Finnish speech.
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Chapter Nine: Autumn Shade
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Lips on lips. Body fluids slickening the sensation. Warm breath on your face, not sure if it's yours or the other's. Inhaling the other's air. Hungry hands roaming all over your body, greedy for the touch, and you shudder as cool fingers grace your bare back.
A kiss like all the ones I've had before and still nothing like them.
Like all teenagers I live in the delusion that there is absolutely no one like the one I fancy at the time, that the person is The One for me. He's all I think about. He's playing the lead role in my dreams. He's the one I hope to bump into when I go to buy noodles at a nearby store.
He's like ecstacy that keeps me going no matter what, the only difference being that Harry could never kill me if over-dosed. Although addictive, Harry is the healthiest drug for me, the one I'm never going to try to get rid of.
The only one, and unique.
If I was more mature and less exalted, I'd admit to myself that there has to be people like Harry someplace else. Harry just happens to be the only individual with the right characteristics that I've come across with.
It's all so mechanical. We want to believe love is like magic, and surely some would want to have a debate on this matter. I shall take no part in discussions like that, for I've never been in love, really. I may have thought so in the beginning, but after a while I've always noticed my mistake, ashamed of my childish ways of thinking. The words based on utopian declarations of love mean nothing anymore and once again I find myself talking about love as if I knew something, when I obviously do not have a clue what it is about. I just talk and talk, like people who pole speeches although they don't know what their fancy words stand for.
I could describe why I like Harry so much, I could list the things in him that make me want him, but then I would only be manipulating you, like I'm being manipulated by my own intuitions. I don't believe that it is possible for someone to define what 'Harry' is about. I can only say what he is to me. People see each other and theirselves in different ways. Let's take, for example, important political figures. No fear, I am not going to voice my own opinion on parties or certain presidents, but as it has been seen, people's opinions are divided. None of the views are right but at the same time they're all correct.
The only thing I know for sure is that Harry's here with me right now and I want him. Screw my love philosophies! The primitive side of me screams "Harry's mine!" and it's way too early to think whether I love him or not.
And I don't even care.
His warm palm rests on my lower back, fingers spread to cover more of me. The other hand is still holding me from the back of my neck, keeping me close. Somehow I've managed to end up in a very difficult position, partly in his lap and spine bent painfully. Damn these modern cars, this one has basically no room at all.
"Harry..." I whisper against his lips, feeling how the hot air makes my face flushed and slightly damp.
He does not acknowledge my sigh but continues ravishing my mouth, tongue sweeping past my lower lip and making contact with mine, teeth nipping at my swollen lips, and silky soft wetness sending me as high as a kite.
Not wanting to part, his lust-driven mind cannot co-operate with his clumsy hands too well as he fumbles with the front of my trousers, touches making the skin under my clothes tingle with excitement.
zip
I freeze all over. I feel his lips stopping the movement against mine.
Hastily I pull away from him, breathing hard from kissing and... yeah, just kissing. There is a weird tightening inside my chest, and it feels heavy and aching as if there was a stone too warm somewhere behind my ribcage.
'What's gotten into me?'
Harry looks at me, a slight frown on his face. He seems quite unaffected by my rejection but I can't help but think it's only a mask. I don't know what it is that he feels inside him right now. Rather surely disappointment, but are anger or loathing present, too? I lean my back against the backrest, squeezing the doorhandle and without seeing anything I stare in front of me, through the air that seems ridiculously tense and silent at the moment. Swallowing, I focus my eyes and take a side-way glance at Harry, who's apparently looking at the wheel, blank, gripping at it with both hands. I want something to happen, for him to express what is going on in his mind, in words or even a gaze.
Usually I'm the one who makes the moves, dominates the situation and just knows what to do. But now I've run out of words, once again.
Harry inhales, and slowly exhales.
He merely says, "Okay."
The car starts. 'Okay'? It should be this difficult but it is. 'Okay? Okay what?'
The car's soft murmur is drowned by some loud pop music coming from the radio.
"Um..." I mumble, head bowed to look at my hands resting uncomfortably in my lap. They give no help in finding something reasonable to say.
"Harry?" I lift my eyes to look at him, the car's not yet moving. At the same time I want him but something is there in between us, a low barrier but a barrier nonetheless.
"It's honestly okay, I understand. We don't even know each others' surnames."
Harry's laugh is empty and clearly not in the slightest amused. Somehow when I heard him reassure me I was reminded of my last psychiatrist.
"Potter."
He turns to look at me, a question written on his face.
"That's what the men called you."
"Oh, of course. And your name is Malfoy, isn't it? They told it to me at the police station, and since your name isn't exactly common it's easy to remember."
"Ahem, yeah…"
"Listen, do you want to go eat somewhere? I don't think Kyle's about to leave any time soon."
I suppress a smile, and my stomach gives an appreciating sound. "Sounds good to me."
He smiles. "Okay, I know the owner of a good Chinese restaurant not too far away from here."
Slumping onto my sofa I dreamily stare through the ceiling, a content and slightly drunken grin on my lips. I sigh and let myself lay in that position, listening to the silence of my apartment. In the kitchen I hear the water tap leaking, droplets falling into the sink in a steady rhythm every eight seconds. I reach out with my hand and grab the remote from the table, turning the CD-player on.
I loosen my grip and let the remote fall to the carpet softly, my hand resting in an awkward position over the edge of the sofa, my whole body relaxing and my happily hazy mind losing every logical thought.
Soft music starts playing. The song's name is Autumn Shade. Mentally I can feel myself drifting away from my body, and rise up, up, up into the skies where there is no wind. This is of course only my own imagination, in which children think they can fly just about anywhere. There's no doubt about it, pretty often children truly are happier than adults due to their ability to break free from reality. I cannot hear the lyrics, but I know that I was never able to interpret them too well… Who cares, the words nevertheless sink into me like a spoon into strawberry ice-cream during summer.
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Slip into the autumn shade
I could sleep for days
But I like the sun when
I can hear another sound
It's a long way down
Keep my head up
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I can picture myself floating among light pink clouds somewhere where I can't even see the ground, and golden particles rain down on me. A pair of beautiful white birds are sleeping on one of the clouds, snuggling closer to each other. I smile and bury myself into that warm nothingness that keeps me from falling through the air…
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Who am I to be this way
Dreamin' so insane
But I like the sun when
Falling through another plan
Never one the same
Keep my head up
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I am somewhere between Dreamland and wakefulness, all muscles relaxed and mouth hanging open in an unattractive way. I ought to go sleep in my bed, but it's so nice here, the bedroom's too many steps away…
"Bleep bleep bleep bleep!"
My mobile phone's tune starts ringing. With a start my dream world crashes down like a card castle. I scramble into a sitting position and get the phone from my coat pocket.
"Hello?" I say.
On the other end someone seems to be fighting with their phone, accidentally pushing wrong buttons.
"Hello? Is anyone there?"
"Ah, Draco."
The voice and the way he says my name sounds so familiar… in a bad way.
Shakily I ask, "Yes…? Who's this?"
"Can't you recognize your father's voice?"
As I recognise the voice, icy feathers sweep down my spine.
"Why are you calling me? How the hell did you get my number?"
"Oh, but why such hostility? A father is allowed to call his son every now and then."
He sounds too friendly, overly such, I'd say. Like sweet poison that kills after a day or two, insidiously while you sleep.
"If I don't remember wrong" I hiss, "you said I'm not your son. I remember you calling me a 'pathetic little faggot' instead."
I grit my teeth and squeeze the phone in my hand, wishing that I was able to squeeze my father's throat instead.
I hear laughter from the other end of the phone call. "My my, don't you seem cranky or what. Have you become a housewife already?"
That's it. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?"
He laughs, "You have obviously lost your sense of humour."
I growl. I feel the air shifting, suddenly his voice is low, familiarly cold and collected, the way I remember it to be, and the way his voice sounds like in my nightmares.
"To meet you."
Keeping my voice monotone, I ask, "Why?
There's a pause.
"WHY?"
I can hear his malevolent smile in his voice, "We have to discuss certain matters."
"I don't want to have anything to do with you." Monotone.
I lower the phone and look at it as it lies on my palm.
"Draco, you're not –"
click
I look at the space in front of me, eyes seeing only air and not registering anything. My whole being and even my thoughts feel numb, like I am stuck in one second. This happens awfully often nowadays, me freezing all over.
My mind doesn't register how I put the phone onto a table, and how I walk back into my living room automatically, like a robot that is being moved by someone holding a remote control. I turn off the music and head for my bed.
Sleep won't come that night.
… TBC …
A/N: I haven't started on the next chapter yet, we'll see when it appears. Reviews are more than welcomed, I love feedback. Here are some answers to the reviews I got last time:
Vimy Whoa, well here's the chapter! O.O Thanks.
Unknown (even to me: Finns don't come from Hungary, pfft! We've a Caucasian race, but been in contact with Swedes and so forth for so long that there aren't any 'pure-blooded' (hehe) Finns left. I have some British and Swedish blood in me, although I'm totally Finnish. I've heard that Finns are whiter than Swedes anyhow, so it more than serves my purposes when it comes to Draco's looks. The language is different, though. It IS related to Hungarian and Estonian.
demonflower Thanks, I do make mistakes but luckily I have a marvellous beta-reader whose native language IS English.
driven to insanity: Yes, I love this Draco, too. Unfortunately he's quite taken already, though :P
Nukkuja: Taidat olla suomalainen, eh? You will find out who Harry is, yes, eventually.
Saint Angelius: I am truly grateful for that comment o.o I don't try to make the characters complex, they just become like that by themselves :D And yeah, my exam went like hell but hey, it's over now. It took me a while, but here we are alive and kicking.
badboyblondEsgurl Bo ohoo, what's wrong with my summary? Oh well, thank you for the review, it's always nice to hear that people appreciate what you write.
SilverDragon161: Heh, it wasn't Harry who pulled away.
ura I did it because I can. Njeh njeh. No honestly. Thanks, I love writing something slightly psychological:)
darkest demon child: You got what you wanted, and almost a bit more than that ;)
-Devilita