Storms of the Heart

I should probably mention this: I didn't steal this story, for those of you who have been on ffn.net. I am new to this wonderful site and decided this would be where I would re-post my stories. You can still find them on ffn.net at this url:http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2260687/2/


Hardship exists in this world for us to strengthen ourselves. We use that strength to keep on living, face new challenges and accept the cold reality of the world.” -Daimaru Bansho




The halls were quiet as a tomb, nothing stirring within its hollow bowels and long dark corridors. Corpses long bereft of flesh lay rotting on the bone white marble flooring. Draperies dank with dust and grime lay hung from the onyx-black stone walls and portraits of once powerful sorcerers and mages lay against the walls on the dusty floorings.

The eroding sands of time had not touched this place, save for the rotting of the betrayed. Souls of the dead haunted the ancient halls, while they slept, untouched and eternal. But, in one room, lay they who survived.

Dark and beautiful, they slept. They who put themselves in stasis so that they might walk amongst the living again and balance the storms as they had once done. Soon, thought he, soon they would walk again in the sun and in the rain, soon they would give balance to the pain of the Almighty Mother, she who gives life and soon they would exact their revenge!


Chapter Two:

Awakenings and Memories

Harry woke with a horrified gasp. Wild emerald eyes frantically looked around the room, searching. The dreams had come again to Harry as they had every night since the first disaster. Temples stood in an isolated valley surrounded by forests, mountains, rivers and a little village. Village men, women and children would be bathing in the river across from the temple steps when a dark cloud covers the sun. The children would look up; gasp and then all would be running towards the temples. Then, a massacre! Demons upon horse-back, hundreds of them, drove through the screaming villagers. None would survive. The temples would be pillaged and burned, in the end only one stood standing. The Storm-keepers that were left alive cast a spell to stop time and all would sleep, sleep until the time when the demons came again and the Great Mother became enraged.

“Shhhh, my LittleOne, hush. It was just a dream, love; you’re alright, you’re safe. I’m here now.” A warm, deep voice whispered soothingly. Harry turned; it was Ash, his husband. His tall, strong and brave husband. The next thing he knew, Harry was being held in comforting arms. He sighed thinking, remembering:

Harry had met Ash two summers earlier at a festival in Transylvania. Dumbledore had allowed Harry to go with the Weasleys and Hermione. The Trio had somehow gotten lost and then, as a crowd went by, Harry had lost the other two!

“Damn it! Ron! ‘Mione! Where are you two?” Harry muttered as he shifted through the overwhelmingly large crowd, completely lost. Harry sighed, exasperated, he fiddled with his now long hair. He had let it grow out just ready for a change since he had slendered out since the last few months; no longer the gawky young teen, but now a beautiful young man. Albeit a rather short one at 5’5”! He spun around and the next thing he knew, he was on the dusty ground and a warm weight had fallen on top of him. ”Ouch!” “Oomph!”

“Merlin, I am so sorry! “ Harry gasped out with what remained of his breath. He looked up into mesmerizing sapphire eyes and blushed a most becoming bright pink. “It’s quite alright. In fact, I believe it was my fault. Here, let me help you up.” The young man had dark skin and deep brownish black hair. He was tall and had a very nicely built body; he looked to be around 20, though his eyes looked much older. All in all, he was very handsome, Harry thought as he noticed the young man was wearing a silver armband with strange rune like markings on it. The day passed quickly as the two hunted around for the Weasleys together, and eventually Harry did find his missing surrogate family.

The Weasleys spent the remainder of the summer holiday there and Harry and Ash grew quite close. Eventually, though, the summer ended and Harry had to return to Hogwarts. Ash decided to come and teach D.A.D.A. and the two met over Hogsmeade weekends and Harry visited quite often. Luckily, Harry had an uneventful school year. That is, until the next festival.

As usual, Ash and Harry were sitting quite close during the dances, enjoying the others’ warmth, the wild beat of the drums and the pounding feet on the dirt. The dance ended and Ash stood up, a new but familiar beat swirling around them. Harry looked around at the excited faces with confusion; Amelia, an old gypsy woman pulled him to his feet and pushed him into the dancing circle.

This was the gypsy dance of the whip, a dance of trust and eternal bonding. If the whip drew blood, the two dancers wouldn’t be wedded, if the dancer flinched, it showed a lack of trust. He knew this because Amelia had been teaching him different dances for the first few weeks of the summer. But, oddly enough, she had focused on this one dance.

Ash stood in the circle, a serious expression on his face, a long six-tailed whip in hand and then Harry knew. He danced then; he danced as he had never danced before. Spinning and twirling, jumping and stomping his feet wildly; he was as graceful as a deer and as beautiful as a bright blue morning after a black night. And as the whip swirled around him, tearing through the cloth of his thin black tunic and his leggings, but not breaking through his skin, he danced with all the love he felt for Ash. Three weeks later, they were wed.

Harry sighed deeply, focusing back on the present and the inevitable bleak future. The survivors had been brought to the hospital and Hogwarts after hours of searching the rubble of the decimated towns. Ash had been covered in blood and cuts; a haunted look on his face.

Many had died in the storms, in the floods, in the volcanic eruptions, and in the earthquakes. Too many. If the seers and the prophecies were right, they had a lot of pain ahead of them and a lot of rebuilding.




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