My musings...

Little Jack Frost...

2007-07-12T14:28:17Z

I was little boy lost and I was little boy blue
I was little Jack frost, but I am warm through and through
It's not easy to hide when your heart's on full view
For once cruel world be forgiving
For once in my life I am living

Remus looked around the room that was to be his for the next seven years, and at the sleeping boys who surrounded him. There had been only four boys sorted into Gryffindor that year, though there were seven girls, and Remus was glad; it meant there were less people to hide from. The room was filled with the sound of slow, deep breathing and he wondered as he listened how long it would be before they found out; how long they would feel safe sleeping near him.

***
He watched his dorm mates from the window. Sirius and James were attempting what looked like muggle wrestling, while Peter played referee. The two dark haired boys ended up on the floor and they all three fell about laughing. Remus thought about joining them, picturing himself on the sidelines with Peter, but knew he couldn't; once they found out what he was he would lose them and he couldn't bear to make his first real friends only to wind up alone again. Somehow he knew it would be worse to have had and lost, than never to have had at all.

***
He picked up his books from the floor as the girls' laughter echoed down the corridor. "The Standard Book of Spells; Grade One" was now a disturbing shade of yellow, whilst the spine on his potions textbook had broken.
"Why do you let them do that?"
Sirius Black lounged in the doorway behind him. He looked puzzled and a little angry. Remus knew that look; it was the one his father got just before he started yelling. He dropped his eyes to the floor.
"I... I... They're bigger than me and I just -"
"Rubbish" Remus fiddling with the books in his hands, waiting for the yelling "You don't even try to defend yourself. Just like you don't even try to make friends"
Remus looked up, realising something. Sirius wasn't yelling. He sounded confused, maybe even a little hurt.
"It's like you think you deserve to be picked on and alone"
"You don't understand. It's not like -"
"No you're right. I don't. I mean - don't you like us?"
"What?! No... It's not like that it's -"
"It's not? Well that's settled then"
He grabbed Remus' books and started towards the Great Hall.
"Are you coming or what?"
And Rmeus, thinking he would deal with the pain when it happened, followed.

***
As he sat in the common room with his friends, exploding snap cards in his hands, he wondered how he'd ever managed to convince himself this was wrong. Word had gotten around that anyuone who picked on Remus would regret it; whilst Sirius and James were only first years, they had pulled enough pranks by now to be well known, even respectd, and Peter had a certain talent for spreading rumours.
"Full moon in a couple of days"
Remus tensed and looked up, but James wasn't looking at him. Just an observation then.
"Oh... Is it?" He felt distinctly uncomfortable; whilst both James and Sirius seemed intent on their cards, Peter was staring, trying to stifle a grin. "I expect we'll get extra astronomy homework or something then. I mean lots of things happen around the full moon, even potions are affected by it and Professor Slughorn says -"
"Things always do seem to happen around the full moon don't they?" James cut him off mid ramble, for which Remus was secretly grateful "What's it going to be this month? A sick Auntie? A wedding? An infectious disease?"
"Alien abduction?" Now Sirius was trying not to smile
"I... I don't know what you -"
Now James looked at him, a look that asked 'how stupid do you think we are?'
"We know Remus. Have done for a while"
Remus dropped his cards onto the table, where they promptly exploded. Peter started giggling, closely followed by the others.
"How do youlike your werewolf sir?" laughed Sirius "This one's done to a turn!"
Remus allowed himself a small smile as he wiped the soot from his eyes and felt his singed eyebrows.
"You mean it's o.k? I mean... You still want to be friends?"
"Course we do, stupid. You're still you"

***
Older now, they ran through the forest, wolf, dog and stag, pausing occasionally for the rat to catch up. This was it, the way it was supposed to be; his pack looking out for each other. This was what he had been missing since he'd been bitten; this was living.

Fin

I'm still not totally happy with this, but I thought I'd post it anyway. The lyrics at the start are from a song sung by Kate Rusby, but I can't find the CD cover to find out who wrote it... Please review? Thanks!

ETA: It was Kate Rusby! She wrote it for a CBBC animation...

Autumn Leaves...

2007-07-11T15:45:42Z

The falling leaves drift by my window
The falling leaves are all red and gold
I see your lips, those summer kisses
The sunburnt hands I used to hold
Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter's song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall
Johnny Mercer

Autumn. The first since they had bought their own place together; an old Georgian town house just on the muggle side of London. From his place by the window, Draco watched Harry pottering about in the garden raking leaves. Out there among the reds and the golds, it seemed Harry was in his perfect environment; a Gryffindor garden. There was mud on his jeans, and leaves caught on the sleeves of his jumper but Harry didn't appear to care; the garden was his project and he wanted it to be perfect. Draco chuckled to himself and tapped on the window.
"Tea?" he mouthed as Harry turned to look up at him.
Harry smiled, nodded and wiped his muddy hands on his jeans. As he made his way down to the kitchen, Draco thought the garden seemed pretty perfect already if it could make Harry smile like that. He put the kettle on and soon found himself wrapped in his lover's muddy embrace. He made false little noises of protest at getting mud on his clothing, but Harry knew he didn't mind really. The wind and the work had put a flush in his cheeks and he smelled of earth and rot, but Draco loved him more in that moment than ever before.
***
Autumn. The first since he had lost Harry; the old Georgian town house cold and empty. From his place by the window Draco could make out piles of leaves in Harry's garden, but the old man couldn't bring himself to rake them in alone.

I already posted this on muppetthecowbut I wanted to post it here too so I could find it later! Review?

Crazy Raven...

2006-01-13T13:14:27Z

Remember the night we stood together
And the northern lights danced
Your arm around me then
Was the promise of spring
In the face of the coming winter
-Crazy Raven, The Poozies

Remus stood by the lake and pulled his coat tighter around himself. The breeze made little waves on the water, but ti Remus they could have been a storm. He stared into the dark water watching the stars ripple and waver, unable to look at the sky. Most lycanthroped were afraid of the moon, this one feared the stars; feared one in particular. He closed his eyes, remembering the feel of strong arms, the warmth of breath on his cheek. The memories flooded over him, drowning him as much as if he'd thrown himself into the water at his feet. Salt water slid down his face in streams to mingle with the fresh water of the lake. Minutes passed, but Remus stood frozen, as still as if he'd turned to ice. The first flakes of snow caught in his hair and eyelashes, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked down again at the glassy surface of the lake, watching the snowflakes swirl above like extra stars in the reflected sky; the physical embodiment of his own eternal winter.

liana_mortis @ 2005-10-13T22:12:00

2005-10-13T21:13:19Z

Guess what? Another songfic... I totally forgot I wrote this till I found it just now!

Walk My Path

Walk my path and I will lead you
Speak my words and hear my voice
Be my eyes and you will see me
Feel my sorrows and know my joys

As Draco sat in the corridor, waiting to see the Headmaster, he found himself thinking about the lessons his father had taught him as a child; knowing that the choices he made in the next few minutes would determine the course of his life hereafter. He knew the headmaster was about to offer him a way out, and knew he wasn’t ready to make the choice. Could he turn his back on his history, his family, for the sake of satisfying his conscience?

/“Draco, as a Malfoy, and heir to all that you see before and around you, you must learn what it is to be a true follower of The Dark. If you adhere to the lessons I am about to give you, you will never feel hunger or face the humiliation of poverty; you will live in comfort and prosperity. In that alone is a happiness sufficient to satisfy the cold heart that lies in you; the heart I gave you”/

But Draco wasn’t happy. He was ashamed that he was expected to follow his father into servitude, and was not prepared to sacrifice his honour and self respect to follow a twisted old psychopath who’s morals were questionable at best. He did not agree with many of the Dark Lord’s ideas, and certainly didn’t wish to murder innocent people, even Mudbloods, because he felt them inferior to himself. However, as much as he believed that killing Mudbloods for no good reason was immoral and wished to have no part in it, he also couldn’t bear the thought of walking away from his father and the path he’d always believed his life would take.

Be my hands and I will hold you
On my shoulders rest your head
In your thoughts you’ll always find me
In my footsteps safely tread

Looking down at his young son before him, Lucius thought he was the perfection of the Malfoy line; beautiful, strong and in possession of a heart of ice. Yes, he thought, The Dark Lord will be pleased with this one. Lucius had found that the Dark Lord detested a sense of independence in his followers, so he had tried to raise Draco with little sense of his identity outside of being a Malfoy; being the son of a renowned Death Eater, and future servant of the Dark Lord. As he watched his twelve year old son happily feed a live niffler to a snake, he felt that he had been successful in his task; Draco truly would follow in his footsteps.

At my table I will feed you
In my house you’ll always know
Somewhere safe that you can find me
When you’re lost and when you’re low

Draco paused, his quill hovering above the parchment. This letter was not going well. All he’d managed to write so far was: Dear Father…He wondered whether he would still be welcome at home one day, after the war, when all this was over, but he knew he was hoping for the impossible. His father would disinherit him, cut him off from everything he’d ever known, probably even refuse to acknowledge that he had a son. He also knew that his mother would blindly follow his father and that he was losing her too. He crumpled up the parchment and started again; it was no point sending him a letter in which the ink was blotched by tears - he had to be strong.

I am you, you must remember
If you leave me I am blind
Speak my name the sound will linger
And I will find you in my mind

Narcissa entered the study when the alarms went off, to find her husband in a paroxysm of rage, cursing anything that he could afford to dispose of and looking like an avenging angel. On the desk was a crumpled piece of parchment.

liana_mortis @ 2005-10-13T22:09:00

2005-10-13T21:10:33Z

Yet another songfic. I seem to write a lot of these...

Old Broken Soldier

So lay me down on a deep feather bed
Hold me close and cradle my head
I’m an old broken soldier back from the war
And the way we once loved I can’t love no more
So lay me down on a deep feather bed
Let me taste the sweet of your breath
Your voice is so soft and your words so sweet
So just lay me down and sing me to sleep

Old Broken Soldier – Tanglefoot

Draco sat and looked at the pictures ranged along the mantelpiece. Amongst the mass of wildly waving redheads, was one solitary group; their pale hair and complexions making them seem oddly ethereal next to the Weasleys. He knew Ron had only put them up to make their apartment more cheerful, but it simply served to remind Draco what he’d lost. Before the war, he’d been part of a family. They had never been outwardly loving and cheerful like the Weasleys, but he’d known what it meant to be a Malfoy. What it felt like to belong.

A gentle breeze blew across the lake, making the reeds on either side seem to whisper. Ron looked down at their hands intertwined; all pale skin through his tan, and wondered what he’d done to deserve Draco. ‘Maybe he’s my reward for putting up with Fred and George all this time’ he thought, smiling. Draco took a deep breath, and Ron felt his hand tense.

“I’m going to tell him” he said

Ron felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, but he turned and gave a slow nod

As he looked at the picture, Draco remembered his father’s face the last time they’d spoken. He’d always meant to talk to him, straighten things out. He’d wanted to explain himself properly. But he would never get the chance now. His father had died thinking ill of him, and it was more than he could stand to think about it. He rolled over on the sofa and buried his head in the cushions, trying to hide from the faces staring down at him. Before long, he heard Ron’s familiar footsteps on the stairs, and a few minutes later felt strong reassuring hands on his back, soothing and safe, and everything he needed right now.

As Draco stood and looked at his father, he tried to take in every little detail about the study, for he knew it would be long time before he was welcome to stand here again.
Lucius’ usual, cold mask of composure fell, and he stared wide-eyed at his son as though he’d never seen him before.

“You don’t wish to join the Dark Lord?” he said, with an air of incredulity “What, prey do you intend to do instead?”

“I want to fight for Albus Dumbledore”

He’d tried a thousand times to think of a way to say this more tactfully; a way to make his father see how confident he was that he was right, but all he’d done was tell him in a voice strangled by fear for the disdain he was about to see from him. Lucius stood up from his desk so fast that the chair fell over; all pretence at dignity and composure gone. He pointed one shaking, delicate, aristocratic finger at his son and gripped the desk so hard with his other hand that the knuckles went white.

“You. Get out of this house” The words came out like a spitting hiss, and Draco wanted more than anything to make him understand.

“Father…I -”

“Don’t dare to address me that way! You are no son of mine. Now get OUT before I curse you”

As he turned and fled, he looked at his childhood home, and knew he had lost it forever.

liana_mortis @ 2005-10-13T21:54:00

2005-10-13T21:08:33Z

I wrote this for Miss Fi's birthday; she requested Mills and Boone style H/D. The italics are quite important in this one, so I went through it and put /'s at the start and end of each part...

Alas for Heaving Bosoms; a cornucopia of love

Chapter One:

Harry Potter was a hero, and like all heroes, he was alone. He yearned for the kind of passion that other people were free to experience, but knew that it was hopeless; he was forever destined to be lonely. As he pulled the curtains of his four-poster bed closed around him and lay back on the pillows, he knew he would dream tonight, as always, of the warm embrace of true love, and the silky smooth feeling of running your hands through your lover's hair as he slept.

***

As he went down to breakfast the next morning, Harry gazed around the Great Hall, looking for the familiar object of his desire; the most popular boy in his house, and consequently one of the most popular in the school. Harry let out a deep sigh; how could someone as beautiful, clever and admired as Draco Malfoy ever love a bespectacled, geek with messy hair like himself? It was no use, he told himself, his life was destined to be empty of any love not unrequited; empty of everything but death and despair. He looked away from the Slytherin table, his gaze falling instead upon his two best friends, their hands casually entwined on the table, and felt a pang of jealousy; what he wouldn't give just for a moment of that intimacy…

***

Draco Malfoy was really rather tired of the boring sycophants who followed him around daily. He knew that they were only interested in him for his father's money and his family name. What he needed was someone who wasn't interested in wealth or fame, someone who could look at him and see a person; a soul. Sadly, he could think of nobody to whom this applied, and had long since resigned himself to a life in which he was adored but would never love. He was contemplating the misery that was to be his lonely, angst-ridden life at breakfast, when he looked up to find Potter gazing across the room. /Surely he's not looking at me?/ Thought Draco, glancing around to see if anyone else had noticed. /He hates me…/ The thought had no sooner crossed his mind than Potter looked away. Draco, however continued to watch the Gryffindor table for quite sometime, only looking away when one of the Weasley's started making rude gestures across the Hall.

***

/They were flying high above the crowds; the green of his robes mingling with scarlet, the wind whistling through his hair. Harry could feel the beat of his impassioned heart in his throat, could feel the lean muscular body of the Slytherin seeker between his legs as they flew tandem towards the snitch. He grasped an arm around the other boy's waist to steady him, reaching out as he did so. Their hands touched mid-air…/

"Harry… You alright?" Realising he was flushed with the excitement of his daydream, and a little short of breath, Harry just smiled at his best friend and mumbled something about trying to remember today's ingredients list. "Oh right" said Ron thinking it was very unlike Harry to care about potions "You just looked kind of spaced"

***

As they sat down in class, Draco chanced a glance at Potter. He was, as usual flanked by Weasley and Granger, though Draco could never quite fathom out why; he'd defeated the Dark Lord how many times? It wasn't as if Potter needed protecting. He supposed with lives as worthless as theirs, Mudbloods and Weasels needed something to make them feel useful.

Draco had always been rather intrigued by Potter's hair. It was always a mess. Somehow though, it suited him. He was just debating whether it was always that messy because it was too coarse to lie flat, or whether Potter couldn't be bothered to brush it. He was thinking it would be nice to find out. Then he realised he was contemplating playing with Potter's hair, and turned away blushing.

Over at the Gryffindor side of the room, Ron Weasley raised his eyebrows in confusion…

***

"You know, I wish Malfoy would stop staring at you" Harry's heart leapt up into his throat. /Draco was staring at me? Oh, be still my beating heart!/ "He was doing it at breakfast as well and it's beginning to creep me out"

"Oh, Harry, be careful. You nearly spilled salamander blood on me. Honestly!" /Typical Hermione/ thought Harry /always thinking about potions. She doesn't care that the love of my life has stared at me twice today; doesn't know how I suffer with these pangs of woe, lust and desire!/ He looked over at the gorgeous blond opposite and noted the way that his hair, so soft, so fine, fell across his beautifully arched cheekbones, his breath stirring the ends. He looked longingly at those slender, articulate hands, delicately slicing mandrake roots, imagining what they could do to him. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of this ecstasy, but could not hide the grin spreading across his open face. He let out a deep sigh of contentment /Oh what I wouldn't give to work side by side with him, to feel his warmth against me, breathe in his scent; to feel how truly alive he is…/

***

As Snape rose to his feet to announce whom the class would be working with for their end of term projects, Draco chanced another glance at Po- Harry. To his surprise, he found a pair of emerald green orbs staring right back at him from behind an ebony frame. He felt the power of that look go through him like fire through ice; felt his resistance melt, his defences fall away. /Oh Merlin/ He thought /My Father is going to kill me…/

***

Harry flushed and turned away. /He saw me! My life is over. He'll never look at me again! Oh woe, angst and despair!/ Just then, Snape's voice cut in on his thoughts:

"…Weasley and Bulstrode" He sounded vaguely amused at the look of horror on Ron's face "Granger and Parkinson. Potter and Malfoy" Here the potions master turned to cast a disdainful sneer over his least favourite student; obviously pleased to note Harry's discomfort "Finnigan and Crabbe, and Thomas and Goyle. You will be expected to hand in a detailed analysis of your process, and a sample of your potion by the end of next week's lesson. I expect no less than five hours work each to be put into this project, and I expect the work to be done together" With this, he turned and swept out of the room.

***

Draco was horrified. As soon as he'd realised his situation, he'd determined to stay away from Harry - falling in love with The Boy Who Lived was not considered appropriate action for the son of a Death Eater. Now he would have to spend ten hours in his company… alone… side-by-side… /O.k./ he thought /maybe it won't be so bad./ As long as he didn't let Harry see how he felt it wouldn't hurt to enjoy the situation…
Chapter Two:

/The steam coiled around them, creating an isolated world where nothing else existed. Their hands, together on the spoon, stirred the crystal potion, their reflections casting contrasting shades upon the surface; like some ancient symbol of harmony. Harry could feel the heat all around them, could feel the sweat forming on his brow. It was too much to bear. He reached up and removed his robes, allowing the warm air to caress his ivory chest. He saw the other boy look on in surprise, before grinning and doing the same. Harry saw the beautiful curves of Draco's milk white chest rising and falling with deep breathing, and realised that it was not only the potion being stirred. The heat in the air gave Draco a wavering outline, and Harry became afraid that it was all a mirage. He reached out and ran his fingers down the beautifully carved back of his companion, realising as he did so that the other boy was very much present. To Harry's surprise Draco arched his back and turned into his embrace. Harry had always believed that snakes were cold creatures, but he could feel the heat radiating from the milky white satin that was Draco's skin, could feel the warmth of his blood pulsing through his lips as they pressed to his own. Harry pulled away shocked and looked into the deep pools of silver moonlight before him. Draco's eyes held no emotion, but Harry felt the look go through him like fire, and Draco was gone…/

He woke with a start, his breath coming in short gasps. He realised he was still aroused from the dream, but did not care to do anything about it. He was afraid; afraid that in allowing Draco to see him, he had lost him forever.

***

Draco sat in the dormitory surrounded by crumpled pieces of parchment. He was attempting to write to Potter about meeting up for their potions assignment. The problem was, he was trying to make it sound like he wanted to get together for potions without it sounding like he wanted to get together period. /Maybe if I make it sound like it's a real chore..?/ He thought and started to write /No. That'll just make him hate me even more and I don't want that either./ He crumpled up that piece of parchment and added it to the growing pile at his feet. He smoothed out another sheet and started again:

/Potter,
As it's a Hogsmeade weekend tomorrow, I was wondering if we could use the time to get started on our potions project? I don't need to go into the village for anything, so unless you do, we could make use of the castle being quiet and get a head start. I'd rather not leave it till the last minute like you usually seem to do, and I have a high-grade average to keep up so I expect you to concentrate. I suggest meeting after breakfast and going down to the dungeons to work. If there is a problem with this arrangement, please send word by return owl.

Yours truly

Draco Malfoy esq./

He sat back and re-read the letter./ Yes. That seems about right. Polite, yet uninviting. I am a literary genius!/ He incendio'd the pile of parchment and tied the letter to Achilles, his eagle owl. Almost as soon as he'd sent Achilles through the window, he was overcome with a bout of nervousness; /what if he doesn't come? I'll have laid myself bare for no reason/ He smacked himself in the head as lay down to sleep, hoping against all hope that no owl came before breakfast.

***

/Yours truly. He signed it yours truly!/ Harry felt flushed with excitement /Surely that means he's truly mine? And he signed it with Draco, not just Malfoy! Oh! He loves me!/ He hastily hid the parchment as Ron came into the dormitory.

"Isn't that Malfoy's owl?"

"Yeah" replied Harry trying not to smile "He wants to meet up for potions tomorrow while the castle's quiet"

"Oh. Yeah… I forgot about that. I suppose I'd better find out when Millicent wants to meet up - get it over with" He gulped theatrically and climbed into bed "Do you think Snape would mark me down if I murdered her and put her in the potion?"
Chapter 3:

Draco was having a bad hair day. He never had bad hair days. /Why does it have to happen today? It's all fluffy. I look like a blond niffler./ He was rummaging through his draws, trying to find his bottle of sleek-easy potion. /I was supposed to look perfect today./ Crabbe and Goyle had long since left the room and gone to breakfast. Draco idly wondered how long ago it was that they left - they were never late to breakfast so however long ago they left was how long breakfast had been going on for. He hoped it hadn't been more than an hour. He found the potion, applied it and started rummaging through his wardrobe. /Oh Merlin I've got nothing to wear!/

***

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table panicking. /Why isn't he here yet? Maybe he's not coming! Oh! Woe is me!/ Ron gave him a furtive look.

"Harry for crying out loud it's only potions. There's no need to get worked up about it"

/No, no, no. It's so much more than potions - it's my one chance to make him like me. My one chance to be happy!/ He began pulling apart the table decorations in search of a flower. He found a red and gold poppy and started pulling off the petals one by one. /He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me…/

***

Draco rushed up to the Great Hall and paused outside to make sure he looked like he'd very deliberately turned up to breakfast forty-five minutes late. As he went in he glanced over at the Gryffindors. Harry was sitting alone; that is without Weasley and Granger, and was absorbed in attacking a poppy from the table decorations. /He's probably pissed off because I made him sit by himself/ He thought with a sigh /Never mind. I'll just have to make it up to him later./ He suppressed a girlie snigger /No. Bad Draco! No making up./ He sighed again and turned away towards the Slytherin table. A split second later, Harry pulled the last petal off the poppy and sat up beaming and clutching it to his bosom.

***

/He loves me!/
Chapter 4:

Harry looked across the Great Hall, trying to ascertain how long he had before Draco came over. He was amazed at the fact that someone could make eating toast look sexy, but somehow Draco managed it. The way the crumbs clung to his bottom lip, the way he slowly licked his lips, the way he delicately held each slice between two fingers. /Oh my love, how I yearn for your sweet embrace/ He let out a sigh of contentment and went back to trying to reparo the table decorations he'd ripped apart, before the house elves (or more likely Hermione) lynched him. He was so absorbed in thinking and in the scarlet poppy he was holding, he did not notice the last person at the Slytherin table stand up and leisurely saunter across the room.

***

Draco was aware that Harry was looking at him, and tried to eat more quickly. He was sure The Boy Who Lived wasn't used to being kept waiting, and the last thing he wanted to do right now was hack him off. The problem was, as soon as he started thinking about Harry, Draco's mouth dried up and he nearly choked on his toast. He steeled himself to go over to the Gryffindor table and rose to his feet. /Oh please let him not be angry/ he thought /I really want to get to know him and I can't do that if he's sulking. And besides, he's ridiculously sexy when he's all steamed up and I have to resist him./ Draco thought of what his father would say if he told him he was gay. He thought even more of what he would say if his son was in a relationship with Harry Potter. /Be strong Draco/ He said to himself /You must get through this./

By now he had reached the Gryffindor table, and he cleared his throat to alert Harry to his presence. To his surprise, Harry jumped so much, he fell backwards off the bench and hit his head on the floor…

***

/Oh Merlin kill me now/ thought Harry /I can't believe I did that! What will he think? Oh woe is me! How could I be so stupid?/ He could feel the back of his head throbbing, could see pinpricks of white light behind his closed eyes /Maybe if I just stay here with my eyes shut, he'll leave and I can crawl back to the dormitory alone…/

"Harry?"

Draco's voice broke into Harry's thoughts, and he felt slender hands grip his shoulders.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry - I didn't mean to startle you" Harry couldn't believe it. The usually drawling voice was fraught with concern "Oh please wake up…"

Harry slowly opened his eyes, and found himself staring into twin pools of moonlight. The ivory skin that framed them was flushed with panic, and Harry couldn't resist a smile. /I could stay like this forever/ he thought /drowning in your eyes for all eternity. /

"Well I'm glad you think it's funny" snapped Draco, his face a mask of anger and despair "I try to be nice and you throw it back in my face. Thanks a lot Potter" He stood up, brushed the dust off his immaculate, stormy grey robes, and began to turn away.

"No. Draco, don't go. It's not what you think at all. I just…I didn't expect you to be worried. I didn’t think you cared"

Harry noticed that Draco looked startled at the use of his given name, but he didn't care. He was more concerned about the fact that his old enemy was no longer walking away, but had turned back and offered him a hand to help him up. Harry took a deep breath to steady his hammering heart and took Draco's outstretched hand in his. He felt the contact with a heightened sensitivity. It was like electricity in its intensity and Harry thought he might die from the shock waves reeling through his body. He looked into the eyes before him, deep and mysterious as the night, and held their gaze.

"Well I do"

Harry's heart leapt into his throat. /Oh Merlin, it's true! He loves me!/ He smiled a smile that would melt ice with its warmth and beauty, and this time, the boy he loved smiled back.

Chapter 5:

It was cold in the potions dungeon, and Harry was glad he'd worn his jeans under his robes. That wasn't, of course, the reason he'd worn jeans (they concealed a great many embarrassing evils), but was glad non-the less. He wondered if Draco was cold. He was after all wearing silk; his beautiful stormy grey robes fitting like a second skin, but he didn't look as though he wished for any additional layers. Harry supposed that as he lived in a dungeon he must be used to it.

/Say something/ he thought to himself /Tell him you're glad you're working with him. Tell him you like him. Tell him you love him! Oh stuff it - throw your arms round him and kiss him like there's no tomorrow!/ He realised he was flushed and breathing rapidly. He always got nervous around people he liked; it had never been this difficult talking to Malfoy when he'd hated him. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself and looked over at Draco. /Oh Merlin, he's looking at me. He's expecting me to say something. Think of something witty. Impress him…/

"Aren't you cold?" /Not quite what I had in mind. Way to go Harry./ "I mean, you know, what with this being a dungeon and all" /Shut up you idiot! You're whittering./ "Er… It's just that, you know, I'm quite cold, and I'm wearing more than you. Not that I was looking or anything…I just…um…" /Aaaargh! /

"They're charmed" Draco looked like he was trying not to laugh "The robes I mean. Most of us charm our clothes so we don't freeze to death in the common room in winter" He dropped a few more ingredients into the cauldron, stirred them for a few moments, and then looked back at Harry. "Oh, and Potter? Calm down. I'm not going to curse you or anything"

/Oh my love. If only you knew. I've been under your curse since the day we met…/

***

Harry looked so cute Draco was finding it hard not to go over to him and hug him. He tried to imagine what he would have said two years ago if you'd told him he would be shut in a potions dungeon, trying not to want Harry Potter, and failing miserably. /I would have laughed in your face. Told you you were insane. Oh how things change./ He went and stood next to Harry, under the pretence of checking the potion, and brushed against him. It could have been an accident, but Draco hoped Harry would respond, knowing he'd done it on purpose. He felt the other boy stiffen beside him, and reached out to stir the potion. He saw Harry hesitate for a moment and then reach out and place his hand on top of Draco's own. /No going back now/ he thought /Sorry Father…/
Chapter 6:

/Hells/ thought Draco /He really is cold. He's shivering. Maybe I should offer to charm his robes or something…/

***

It was quite true. Harry's hands were shaking slightly out of nervousness. /Come on Potter. Get a grip! Or he'll think you don't want to do this. Oh fuck - what if he didn't want to do this…? What if I'm reading too much into it…?/ He hastily withdrew his hand on the pretence of getting more powdered beetle, and didn't put it back. Had he not being trying to hide his flush of embarrassment, he might have seen the look of disappointment pass over the face of his companion.

"Oh. Well…Um…I could charm your robes for you if you want - it won't take a minute and then you won't be cold anymore. But then I suppose you'd be really hot when you got back up to Gryffindor tower and I'd just have to do a counter curse and…"

***

/I'm rambling. Bugger. None too subtle there Draco. Way to hide your gut-wrenching humiliation./

"O.K. Thanks. I mean, I'd really appreciate that thank you" /O.k, so maybe he doesn't realise - or maybe he's just being polite and asking so I won't feel embarrassed. Oh Merlin this is not going well…/

"Cool" /How old am I twelve?/ "I mean, that's alright. If I tell you the counter, you can just take the charm off when you get back to the tower. It's quite a simple little spell. Here: 'thermius'" He passed his wand over Harry's robes (a little more slowly than was entirely necessary) and watched as the little oh of surprise appeared on his face. He remembered the first time anybody had done the spell on him; he'd been amazed at the tingly feeling that passed through his body.

"Sorry" he said "I forgot it would do that" /and I don't think I would have told you anyway - that was so cute!/ He added mentally

"No. It was… nice"

***

Chapter 7:

The rest of the allotted hours were spent in companionable silence, excepting times when the potion itself required discussion. Whilst disappointed that he'd made a bit of an idiot of himself, Harry thought that Draco had been just as nervous, and that thought gave him comfort. /At least he didn't run screaming/ he thought, and then remembered the thermius charm /and at least I wore jeans./

He began packing away the potions ingredients, whilst Draco bottled and marked the phial of potion they'd produced. Harry had found that without Snape's constant bullying, he was able to make a potion quite successfully; in fact he'd quite enjoyed the methodical nature of the procedure.

"Well. That's the practical sorted" said Draco, looking pleased that the potion had gone well. Harry supposed that after his abysmal performances in potions classes, Draco was right to be nervous about having him for a partner on something this important. "I guess its just the boring report to write now" he finished with a sigh.

"Well, we could do it together" /O.K, that sounded over eager/ "I mean, you know, we could meet up, and, um, do it in the library…" /I hope I'm not pushing this…/

"That would be good" /Oh thank Merlin/ "I mean seriously, why is it necessary for that man to set us such ridiculously long essays? Three foot each! It would be nice to have someone to labour through it with. Besides, your pathetic attempt will make mine look superior by far, and I can spend hours mocking you mercilessly"

Harry looked up from his bag, where he was putting away his notes /Oh no. I thought it was too good to last…/ Then he caught sight of Draco. The blond was trying so hard not to laugh Harry caught his breath in relief. Then the two of them dissolved into giggles and walked up the dungeon corridor towards the Entrance Hall.

"Honestly, Potter. The look on your face!"
Chapter Eight:

Harry returned to the common room that evening feeling happier than he had in months. He'd not only managed to avoid total humiliation, but had secured the promise of a second date. /O.k/ he corrected himself /not date, but he wants to see me again. After all, friendship could be the start of a beautiful relationship. Oh happy day!/

He gave the Fat Lady the password (venomous tentacular - she'd been in a bad mood) and climbed in. As he walked across to Ron and Hermione, he noticed that they were huddled together in the corner /Kissing again? Oh despair!/ And then noticed that Hermione seemed to be attacking Ron's face with her wand not her mouth.

"What's going on?" he said, and then spotted the ugly purple bruise over Ron's left eye, and the cut under his lip. "What happened?"

"Millicent. That's what bloody happened."

"Ron will you hold still. I can't do this if you’re writhing about"

"She said I was ruining the potion and she was going to fail because of my Gryffindor incompetence" /I didn't know Millicent understood more than one syllable. Weird./ "Then the stupid fat cow jumped on me and -

"Ronald Weasley if you don't stop moving I'm going to scar you for life do you understand?"

"Yes dear" He said meekly, giving Harry one of those 'sorry mate' looks.

Harry moved away and climbed the stairs to the dormitory. He pulled the curtains closed around his bed and began to think about his day. Thinking soon led to various other things, and he was very glad for the silencing charms he'd put on his bed to stop his nightmares waking everyone else; without them, his fevered cries of "Oh Merlin, Draco…. Oh fuck" would have caused quite a disturbance.

***

/They were in the ballroom at Malfoy Manor. The room echoed strangely in the half-light, and the sound of the dancing was entrancing. Silver pools met emeralds and the two fitted perfectly, like a piece of antique Slytherin jewellery. Delicate hands traced circles on the arms of the raven-haired boy as they turned; waltzing to a silent orchestra, and as their lips met, the silence rose to a swell. The manor faded, and it was just the two of them, lost in each other, tasting, touching and exploring. Hair like light and shadow; tangled as they fell panting to the bed. They were dancing to a new tune now…/

Draco woke with a start. He was startled by the intensity of his dream, and as his hands moved down to caress his burning loins, he tried to recall the vivid images. He was soon lost in a euphoric climax, clinging to the bed, and wandering how in the Hells Harry could make him feel this way. /Merlin that boy is hot/. Hot… something began to stir in the back of his mind. Something he should have done… /Oh Gods. The robes! I didn't give him the counter curse. I'll just have to go and do it now, it's not too late, he won't be asleep./ He allowed himself a small grin at the thought of sneaking up to Gryffindor tower after hours to pay a visit to Potter. /Well I'm sorry father. It's not like I have a choice. He's a Gryffindor, he won't think to take them off. I'll have to do it…/

He got out of bed, picked up his wand and made his way over to the door. As he walked through the common room, people gave him some inquiring looks, some even looked as though they might reprimand him for going out after curfew. But he knew they wouldn't; he was Draco Malfoy and they did what he told them.

Chapter Nine:

Harry was restless. Once he'd relieved the tension he'd built up being with Draco all day, he had nothing to occupy himself with but thoughts of how Ron and Hermione would react if he told them he was gay. He was restless, he was too hot, and he wanted to confess to them. He knew he wouldn't be able to do it, but he felt guilty, as though in not telling them he was desperately in love with a boy, he was somehow lying to them.

He thought of how nervous they’d been when they came to tell him they were getting together, and wondered, not for the first time, how long it had taken for them to tell him after it started. Maybe they’d understand after all… He would just have to tell them before he bottled out. /Well/ he thought to himself /no time like the present/

***

Draco realised on the seventh floor landing that he had absolutely no idea what the Gryffindor password was, and that he probably wouldn‘t even make as far as the common room. /I guess I’ll just have to knock and see what happens…/

He walked along the corridor slowly, trying not to wake the suits of armour, and came to a large portrait of a large woman in a pink dress. She appeared to be asleep in her frame, so Draco had a moment to think. He wondered if when his father had taught him how to charm the resistance out of a woman with his looks, he’d realised his son would one day be using the skill to seduce portraits guarding the boys dormitories. He laughed out loud at the irony of the situation.

“What are you doing out here after curfew?”

/Malfoy, you can do this. She’s a middle aged woman, and you’re a siren of sex./

“Oh” He replied in his silkiest tones “I leant something to Harry Potter, but I forgot to tell him how to work it properly” He casually leaned on the frame and smoothed his pyjamas down his chest “I’m just… terrified he’ll get hurt…”

“Oh my.” said the Fat Lady, her painted bosom heaving. Draco gazed into the widened eyes of the portrait and slowly licked his lips, inwardly praying that this would work.

“I don’t suppose you could let me in could you? I’ll only be a minute…. Naughty me! I shouldn’t be asking you that. A well dressed, lovely woman such as yourself? Clearly you would have to turn me away.” /It’s working/ he thought, seeing the way the Fat Lady was looking at him. “I’ll just have to tell him tomorrow.” He heaved a big sigh “I only hope it won’t be too late…”

The Fat Lady was blushing. It clashed with her dress, but Draco was hopeful.

“Well, I suppose, as you asked so nicely, and as it is for Harry’s own good. In you go dear - just this once mind…”

Draco stepped through the opening, blowing a kiss over his shoulder as he went. /Let‘s hope these pyjamas have that effect on Potter…/

***
Chapter Ten:

Ron thought he really ought to be getting to bed. The trouble was, Hermione was so comfortable, and he didn’t think she’d want to go with him. He snuggled into her, thinking he’d give it another half hour. He heard the portrait close and looked round to see who it was. Then he fell off the sofa.

“Weasley. Your powers of grace never fail to astound me”

“Malfoy? What the fuck do you think you’re doing in here?”

“And more to the point, how did you get in here?” Ron was, as always when Hermione got angry, forcibly reminded of their head of house.

“Ah Granger. As it happens, your portrait guardian is rather a sucker for blonds. Now if you would be so kind as to tell me which room is Harry’s?”

“Harry’s?” /Since when does he call him Harry?/ “I don’t think so somehow Malfoy. I’m his best friend, I’m not about to let you waltz on in there and curse him in his sleep am I”

***

As Harry walked down the stairs to the common room, he tried to think how he would tell them. /I can’t just burst out with: Hey guys. I’m gay and I think I’m in love with Malfoy. What’s the bloody point? I’m going to bed/ He was about to turn round and go back, when he realised he could hear shouting. /What the…? I hope they’re not rowing again…/ He made his way down, thinking that his dropping a bombshell would likely end whatever trivial fight they were having this time.

***

Draco was really starting to get hacked off. Ron refused to move out of the way, and Harry was likely to be somewhat unimpressed if he just knocked him out. /I’m actually going to have to be nice to Weasley/ he realised /Weird…/

“Look. Ron. For what seems like the millionth time, I’m not going to hurt Harry. I just need to tell him something, then I’ll go.”

“You can just tell me then, and I’ll tell Harry” /Stupid, stubborn, son of a bitch/

“I can’t. I need to tell him”

“Why?”

“It’s none of your business is why, so just let me the fuck upstairs and let me talk to Harry”

“No. You’ll do something horrible to him”
/O.k. Time for a different approach./

“Ron, you’re in love with Hermione right?”

“Yeah. What’s that got to do with -”

“So you wouldn’t, ever do anything to hurt her?”

“No, but why is this -”

“Then why do you expect me to be any different?”

***

It took Hermione a moment to process exactly what Malfoy had just said. /He can’t have meant…? But he hates him…/ Then she remembered the lingering looks, the way Harry seemed unable to concentrate when Malfoy was around…

“Malfoy, are you suggesting that you’re in love with Harry?”
Chapter eleven:

/Bollocks/ thought Draco /That wasn’t quite what I had in mind./

“I… well… um…ha…” /say something you idiot! Say anything. Fuck it, just bloody tell them./ “well…yeah, I kind of think I might be. Not that it’s any of your business, mind, and not that Harry knows, so don’t bloody say anything to him because it’ll really freak him out and I’m not sure you two are the best people for him to hear it from and -”

“Good job I heard it from you first then isn’t it?”

Draco span round to see Harry standing in the doorway. He was wearing blue flannel pyjama bottoms, and Draco thought he looked much younger than he was all of a sudden.

“It’s weird actually. I was just coming downstairs to tell Ron and Hermione that I was falling for a boy. I hadn’t actually expected him to be standing here in the common room stealing my thunder…”

/Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckety, fuck. How long has he been standing there? Wearing hardly anything…/ It suddenly struck Draco that Harry was shirtless, and that he was moving towards him. / Sweet Merlin I’m in trouble…/

“Muh….” Said Ron.

***

Hermione thought it would be best if she and Ron made a discreet exit. Harry didn’t appear to need them, in fact he almost seemed to have forgotten they were there. She watched with curiosity as Harry walked over to Malfoy and put his arms round him. Then she had to hold Ron up, as the blond pressed their lips together. /I think it might be time for Ron to take a trip to the girls dormitory/ she thought…

The last thing she saw as the two of them made their way upstairs, was Harry pulling back from the kiss with a huge grin in his face. /Oh well,/ she thought, /at least he’s happy. /

***

/I just kissed Malfoy. Galloping Gryffindors, he loves me! He really loves me!/ Harry had to restrain himself from running round the room whooping and yelling; he didn’t think it would be terribly dignified. He settled instead for asking why Draco was there

“I realised I’d forgotten to tell you the counter charm for your robes. I thought you might be slowly boiling to death or something… I swear, I never meant to ‘steal your thunder’, or get in a fight with Weasley or anything, I just thought maybe we could talk or something. I don‘t know - I guess I just…”

“Draco?”

“Mhmm?”

“Shut up and kiss me”

Fin

liana_mortis @ 2005-10-13T21:50:00

2005-10-13T20:53:25Z

Another songfic...

Lose Your Way

I have no confidence and I can’t see why I should
I could do most anything for you and you know I would
I try too hard and then I give up way too easily
I’m the runner up inside of you, and you’re the winner inside of me

Ever since his first day at Hogwarts, Ron had been jealous of Harry. He had tried over the years to conquer that jealousy because he knew it was unreasonable. He knew that Harry hated what he had, and that he had suffered for it. Still, it was difficult. Everyone was fairly certain that Harry would be quidditch captain next year, and his Outstanding OWL in Defence Against the Dark Arts had once more put him higher up the achievement ladder than Ron. Still, underneath all that, he felt, with true Gryffindor spirit, an unfaltering devotion to his friend. He knew that he would follow Harry until his feet turned to clay and he could follow no further. He knew that in Harry was the winning part of himself, and that he would happily spend the rest of his
life playing runner up.

I still wish on an evening star and I suppose I always will
Every child loses something a whole life can’t fulfil
And when you cry I feel the stars burst open in my veins
If loving you makes a slave of me, then I’ll spend my whole life in chains

Harry sat by the window of the Gryffindor common room looking out at the stars. He watched a thestral as it soared over the tree tops of the forest, and remembered the eerie beauty of flying astride one; in doing so bringing to the foreground the reason he knew what this felt like. He knew that this was not the best train of thought to get onto so soon before bed, and turned back to the fire. From his seat at the window he saw the two people for whom he cared the most in the world, both of them oblivious to his gaze. Ron was asleep on the arm of the sofa, his transfigurations homework crumpling in his lap, and Hermione had her head buried in a bit of ‘light reading’; “The Complete Chronological History of House Elves”. He had always tried to protect his friends from harm, but as he watched them there, he swore to himself, and whatever higher power might be listening, that no matter what happened and no matter what it cost him, he would keep them safe.

Lose your way, and I will follow
Here today, and here tomorrow
With my freedom I know
I’ll never let you go

Hermione looked up at Harry, sitting there with a look of resolution and sheer determination on his face, and knew that he was making some kind of life altering decision. She thought of what he’d suffered in his life already, of the loss of almost everyone he’d ever loved, and she realised with sadness, that whatever came next, would be worse; that he would lose himself too. She smiled up at him, and he smiled back, the seemingly pleasant gesture masking whatever inner turmoil he was currently dealing with, and in that moment she knew that she would blindly follow him into whatever danger he had to face, helping him to find his way.

Again, the italics won't work; I really should learn how to put thse into lj... The song lyrics should be italicised.

liana_mortis @ 2005-10-13T21:49:00

2005-10-13T20:50:43Z

Just a silly thing...

Yet another fic involving Draco’s leather trousers

Ron had just about had enough. The entire female population of the school appeared to have gone crazy (with the exception of Millicent, who appeared to be immune to such things). For the past three days, all they had done was follow the Slytherins around the castle - they lingered in the entrance hall before and after mealtimes, they hung around the dungeons at break times, they went and watched the Slytherin Quidditch practices! And it was all because of Draco Malfoy. More precisely, it was all because of Draco Malfoy’s trousers. Quite why the sight of the pointy faced ferret in leather trousers had this effect on the girls, Ron couldn’t tell, but he wasn’t too impressed about the way Hermione kept looking at him. He decided it was time to take action. The societies fair was coming up, and he saw an opportunity for the boys to take a stand. He spent a whole lunchtime in the library making badges, and then told the prefects he wanted a table at the fair. He set up his table next to Hermione and SPEW.

“It’s not spew, it’s SPEW!” The familiar cry rang out across the hall, just as Seamus approached his own table.

“Vomit? You expect people to join a society named vomit?”

“It’s not vomit, Seamus. It’s VOMIT: Vastly Overrated Malfoys In Trousers”

Funny Old World...

2005-10-12T23:41:57Z

This is another song inspired fic, that wallowed around in my head for ages. I still don't like it - I can't get it right, but I thought I would share it anyway. It's kind of angsty!Sirius in prison...

Here I sit in a prison cell
I can hardly sleep
Far away, no chime no bell
Can pierce the fortress keep
And God is dead, I saw him die
And hope was lost, like my alibi
Here I sit in prison cell
Funny old World

It was cold. The feel of it seeped slowly into his bones, his chest; like he was breathing ice. The steady drip, drip of the damp walls echoed in his mind like a metronome. He counted the sounds, focussing on them rather than his own ragged breathing, and with each drip he heard the word in his head. Innocent, innocent. He felt, rather than saw something move past his cell. Innocent. Innocent. He heard the rattling intake of breath and knew what was outside the door. He screwed his eyes tight. Innocent. Innocent. You can’t take that from me. You can’t take it. Innocent. Innocent. He was tired, he wanted to sleep. Other prisoners screamed in the darkness, but he had long ago resigned himself to the nightmares; no longer waking covered in sweat and hoarse from shouting.

***

He watched as they carried the body past his cell; the sandy hair a splash of colour in the dreary grey of Azkaban. He noted how frail and broken the boy looked, and some distant part of him felt the stirrings of sympathy. He knew the boy had been some kind of supporter of Voldemort, but then, most of the wizarding world knew that he himself had been. Unsure what to feel, he sank back down against the wall and tried to imagine the life he should be living. He knew well enough that the bitterness and the loss would keep Them from him. Innocent. Innocent. You’ve taken everything else, but you can’t have that. Innocent. Innocent…

***

The sound of footsteps. He rose and went to his door, unaccustomed to hearing such everyday sounds, curious as to who he would see. Would it be the ministry come to release him? He bit down on the thought before the hope drew Them to him. They’re not coming for me. He saw a flash of lime green, and through a haze of memory, remembered the bowler hat of Cornelius Fudge. Perhaps? No. He’s looking in all the cells; inspecting the prison. It had been a long time since he saw a healthy face, regardless of who it might be, and as the figure drew near, he felt more alive than he had in months, years. Life goes on he thought, and once again felt the familiar anger and jealousy that accompanied his daydreams of the outside world. The figure moved to pass his cell, and he noticed the paper under his arm. It had been a long time since he’d heard news.

“Excuse me” he said, alarmed at the sound of his own voice, changed almost beyond recognition “Have you finished with the paper?”

***
He saw the smiling and waving redheads adorning the front page, and noticed with a shock how old the children were. He had not realised it had been so long. 25th July 1993. Twelve years. He looked back at the picture, thinking to read the story there, maybe do the crossword, and saw the last thing he expected. Such anger as he had only felt once before exploded within him. He wanted to rip the little rodent limb from limb. He scanned the page, looking for clues and saw that the rat belonged to the youngest boy, lived at Hogwarts. He knew the youngest of the Weasley boys had been roughly the same age as Harry, though was ashamed that he could not remember his name. Panic began to tinge the anger and the hate; he was where Harry was, waiting to strike. You took everything from me. He’s all that’s left and he thinks I’m a murderer. I wanted to kill you. I should have killed you. I will kill you.

***

He slept. Images of happier times moved through his mind, the nagging worry about the boy he’d sworn to protect racing them around and around. He knew what he must do, and tomorrow he would do it. He had to be strong. He’s at Hogwarts. He’s at Hogwarts. Innocent. Innocent. Innocent…

I'm not sure if the italics will work, cos I'm copying this in form word. All Sirius' inner thoughts should be italicised...

Snarry fic - short, non-graphic...

2005-10-12T23:37:37Z

Snarry:

500ml Dragon’s Blood
250ml Essence of Belladonna
4oz Chopped Willow Roots
4oz Wormwood
1 Hippogriff Talon (powdered)
Hair/Nail/Skin Cells of giver

“Look! I actually think he’s getting off on this! Does Snivvelly have a hard-on?”

Add Wormwood to Dragon’s Blood, place over a low heat for approximately ten minutes.

“Padfoot, don’t stand too close. He’ll probably try to cop a feel”

Mix Essence of Belladonna with powdered Hippogriff Talon to create a smooth paste. Stew Willow Roots ready for use later.

“He only wants to be on the Quidditch team so he can perv on everyone. Dirty little poof”

Once Dragon’s Blood has heated for required time, add the paste slowly, ensuring that it has fully dissolved, before bringing mixture to the boil.

“Snivellus the queer. Probably uses his broomstick to get off”

Add the stewed Willow Roots once potion has boiled, simmer until liquid turns deep green.

“Sorry Sevvy, you’re just not my type. Why don’t you just go find some other little poof to shag you? I’m sure there are plenty like you in Slytherin.”

Finally, add sample of giver. Potion must be consumed within one hour for full effect. Once administered, the recipient will effectively be under the control of the giver. Recipient will retain no memory of actions carried out whilst under the effects of the potion.

***

Every time he saw those vivid green eyes begging him for more, the black hair rumpled and sticky with sweat, he knew he would do it again. As he lay back on the desk, the head of a sixteen year old boy on his chest, he spoke to the darkness: “Who’s the poof now, Potter?”

Song fic...

2005-10-12T23:33:48Z

Empty Chairs

Moonlight used to bathe the contours of your face
While chestnut hair fell all around the pillow- case
The fragrance of your flowers rest beneath my head
A sympathy bouquet left with a love that's dead

Harry sat beneath the window of their bedroom, bathed in the silver moonlight streaming through the glass. The half-light made his hair look almost grey; his skin tired and pale. As he looked around the room, he remembered the first time they'd been here. It was the fourth house on their list, and Hermione had gone into the bedroom with the world's most beautiful smile on her face

"Oh Harry! It's perfect!" She pulled him into the room and put her arms around him, the smell of her perfume making his nose tickle "Can we get this one?"

"If it's what you want. I don't really care where we live, as long as we do it together"

She lifted her face to his and kissed him with as much feeling as she could get into a brief moment.

"I love you…"

He stood up and walked around the room, closing down the flow of memories that threatened to drown him. At the dressing table he paused to read the cards on the bouquets of flowers arranged there. "To Harry, with deepest sympathies", "With regrets, Molly and Arthur", "In loving memory, Seamus and Dean". As he placed the last card back on the table, he wiped away silent tears with the back of his hand and turned to sit on the bed. The familiar feel of the cloth under his hands brought back memories of birthdays and holidays, when he would bring her breakfast in bed, fearful to disturb the peaceful angel whose hair lay around the pillow like chestnut silk. He lay back against the pillows and whispered her name, needing her to comfort him; dreading what the morning would bring.

***
And I wonder if you knew
That I never understood
That although you said you'd go
Until you did, I never thought you would

He sat at the front of the church, looking at the scarlet and gold cloth that draped the cold, empty shell of the woman he'd loved. The emptiness made him feel sick and he looked away. He didn't hear the words being spoken, didn't see anything except the faces of those around him as his gaze swept the church. He paused to look at his former potions master, silent tears falling down his face. He knew Snape held himself partly responsible; knew he had tried in vain to find a cure for the wasting curse, and for the first time in his life, Harry felt for the man. He saw the five remaining Weasleys huddled together opposite him and almost broke when he realised that Ron and Hermione were together now, and he was left here alone.

***
Never thought the words you said were true
Never thought you said just what you meant
Never knew how much I needed you
Never thought you'd leave
Until you went

He knew people expected him to make a speech of some sort; thank them all for coming, but as he stood there in front of them, his throat dried up, and he could think of nothing to say that would do her justice. Instead, he raised his glass, and when others followed, slowly drank in silent tribute. Ginny caught his eye and smiled encouragement, but as he saw her, he saw also the two missing brothers, Fred and Ron, and the emotion threatened to consume him. He knew he had to get out of the room; escape from the world and be alone with the ghosts of his friends and enemies, and the memory of his wife.

***
Morning comes and morning goes without regret
And evening brings the memories I can't forget
Empty rooms that echo as I climb the stairs
And empty clothes that drape and fall on empty chairs

As he made his way upstairs, away from the noise of the gathered mourners, Harry fought down the tidal wave of memories pouring in on him from every angle. He almost ran past the door to what had been her office, for fear of seeing her bent over her parchment as he had so many times before; the aroma of lilies hitting him like a blow to the stomach as he shut the door of their bedroom. She had always loved lilies, and he had loved her. Now all that were left were the flowers. And the memories. He picked up one of her cardigans from where it lay, draped over the back of the chair, where it had been for over a week. She had taken it off because she was too hot. Harry worried that she might be cold now without it, and as he sank to the floor at the foot of the bed, he let out a dry, racking sob. He could not cry; there were no more tears.

First post...

2005-10-12T23:14:03Z

I've got a whole load of stuff that I wrote ages ago, and want to put online, so for a while, all these posts will be old stuff. A fair bit of it is pre-HBP, so please bear that in mind. Anything post-HBP I'll mark for spoilers. Enjoy!

RL/SB (heavily implied)

Out Where The Truth Lies

And I believe we are destiny
Bound to survive against all odds
Out where the truth lies, I will follow
And beyond this barren soul
I cry without a sound
Out where the truth lies,
I will follow my eyes
Into the sun

***
Rolling over in the morning and seeing the familiar curve of his back was the one thing in this world that seemed natural to Remus Lupin. He smiled as he kissed the temple of the man beside him and slid carefully out of the sheets. The sunlight blazed through the window of their small apartment, and Remus found it hard to believe that the world could still be so beautiful when later that day he would be hiding in an abandoned barn, waiting to ambush the enemy. As he made his way into the kitchen and put the kettle on, he began thinking of Lily and James. The night before, they had announced that Lily was having a baby, and that gave him hope; despite all the death this war was creating, new life was being created too. The sound of footsteps from the bedroom, and the familiar loud yawn announced the arrival of Sirius, and Remus, knowing how he got in the mornings popped the toast down and started on black coffee.

***
The naming ceremony was a fairly subdued affair. Even though it was a happy, and celebratory occasion, with the recent losses in The Order, it seemed inappropriate to have a huge party. It had seemed important to have something joyous to hold on to though, and as such, almost all of the members of the team were there, with only those who had to be on watch, or on assignments missing. The little hall in the village seemed crammed, but the atmosphere was light and friendly; a mask for the face of morale, a charade for the sake of Lily and James. Harry. That was the name they chose, and as Remus watched the ceremony take place, he saw his Sirius swear to protect and love the child. Sirius placed a hand on little Harry’s head and smiled at James, filling Remus with absolute pride that he could call this man his own; that someone with a smile like that could love him.

***
Remus sat in the kitchen at The Burrow, minding the children. Bill and Charlie were playing chess, while Sirius read Percy a book about muggles. The twins were happily throwing toys at each other in the play pen, and little Ron sat on Bill’s lap, occasionally trying to eat the chess pieces. As he watched them all together he hoped and prayed that Arthur would be alright, that the healers would be able to fix whatever damage the Death Eaters had done this time; Molly was in no condition to deal with this much stress, and once the baby was born, she’d have seven children to feed and clothe. He went over the events again. How had they known? Just recently, it seemed that every time the Order had tried to make a move against the enemy, they were prepared for it. Dumbledore is right, he thought with a sigh We have a double agent in the Order…

***
Remus sat at the small kitchen table in the flat and looked at the ruined dinner he had cooked. It was the third time this week that Sirius had failed to come home after work, and he was beginning to worry that something was wrong. As he started to clear up the plates, he heard a key in the lock and Sirius came in looking tired and drawn. He didn’t make any attempt to talk to Remus, and when Remus asked where he’d been, he just said he’d been held up and went to bed. It was a long time before Remus joined him. Where was he going at night? What was he doing? Why wouldn’t he talk about it? The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that Sirius was meeting someone else, though what for he didn’t want to think about. He thought again about the way the war was going, and suddenly Sirius’ actions seemed suspicious. Could he be the spy? Remus felt sick and ashamed for even thinking it; Sirius was his partner, his best friend, and he loved him. He wouldn’t do that, and it was wrong to suspect him. All the same, it was nearly dawn before climbed into bed with him that night.

***
Remus sat on the floor of their apartment, his back against the door. His whole world had been destroyed in a matter of minutes, and he didn’t even have the energy to cry. He still couldn’t believe what had happened. James and Lily dead, and Sirius… It nearly killed him to think about it; how could he have done that? James was his best friend, more like a brother than Regulus had ever been, and he had sold him to Voldemort. He hated Sirius in that moment more than he ever thought he could hate another person, but at the same time, he couldn’t bear the thought of him sitting alone in a cell, with nothing but his screams for company. It shouldn’t be possible he thought, to love and to hate someone so much at the same time. He curled himself into a ball, not able to face the remnants of their life together, and sank into a restless, exhausted sleep. Outside, people were singing and dancing in the street.