I\'m Ok
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
10,083
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
10,083
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
I'm Ok
Disclaimer: “I\'m OK” is © Christina Aguilara, Draco and all characters © to the Creator and the company who owns them.
~*~
I\'m ok
~*~
Once upon a time there was a boy
In his early years he had to learn
How to grow up living in a war that he called home
Never know just where to turn for shelter from the storm
~*~
A little boy, sat up in his room on the second floor, weeping, hiding from the danger that lurked downstairs. A monster that would pursue anyone to hurt, not caring if that person may be related by blood or not. His breathing erratic, while his body shaking from the assault that awaits downstairs if he dared to leave his room. An assault that happens everyday during the time he\'s home. Bruises and scratches and scars. All cover this beautiful angel\'s body as if he were at war. And in truth, he is. Fighting a loosing battle with his father.
He hides in the large room he calls a bedroom. In the dark corner by his bed, opposite the door, the small figure is crouched, holding a small silver cloak, and golden lion plush. He\'s terrified to leave his room, yet he needs to relieve himself in the worst way. If he wasn\'t so scared, he would have left sooner, instead of waiting so long, but the floorboards just beyond his room are slightly offset and would squeak.
His father hates noise. He would surely punish him if he heard him leave his room. But he needs to go, so desperately so. He waits; his ears listen carefully to any noise his father would make downstairs. Any noise to signal he would be coming upstairs. He hears nothing, and all seems to be quiet. The little silver eyes, platinum angel has a war raging in his head whether or not to go out just yet. Fear keeps him from making a quick decision.
~*~
Hurt me to see the pain across my mother\'s face
Every time my father\'s fist would put her in her place
Hearing all the yelling I would cry up in my room
Hoping it would be over soon
~*~
He couldn\'t take it anymore, and decided to risk it. He rose, bringing forth his items of security. He wrapped the cloak around himself, clutched his lion plushie to his chest, and then cast a silent spell. He slowly opened the door, and peeked out. Seeing nothing, he quickly went across from his room to the other just beyond the way. He got out just as quickly as he entered and went back to his room.
Just before he reached the door, a shadow caught his eye. No, two shadows. One of his father, looming tall over another, smaller one by the stairs, which he figured, was his dear sweet mother. He could hear his father\'s yells, which were directed to his mother. He watched in terror as the larger shadow raised a black limb. And watched as it came crashing down to the smaller shadow\'s head. The little boy winced, hearing his mother, the only one who loved him, scream out in pain.
Another loud yell from his father, and the small feminine shriek shallowed and went deathly quiet. His eyes burned, knowing he could do nothing for her. He rushed into his room, and in his hast, the door slammed shut, after the spell passed by. The young boy didn\'t even seem to notice as he crawled back into the corner by the heater and began to weep for his mother. He didn\'t even hear the silent footsteps of his father coming up the stairs.
~*~
Bruises fade father, but the pain remains the same
And I still remember how you kept me so afraid
Strength is my mother for all the love she gave
Every morning that I wake I look back to yesterday
And I\'m OK
~*~
He had a good few minutes before the door to his room slammed open against the wall. The boy\'s head snaps up, complete fear filled his eyes, and dread in his heart. He slipped under his bed and peered out, hoping to hide from his father. Glowing silver met a mirror image to his. He knew he had been spotted, and tried to get as far away from the edge of the bed, in the hopes he would leave him alone.
Unfortunately, he heard a string of chanting. A lifting spell. Wimgardiam Leviosa. The bed started to creak, then shake. Soon it lifted into the air, and his father waved his hand. He pulled the boy from his hiding spot to his feet, then let the bed crash back down to it\'s resting place. The bed broke into two with a crunch. The little boy squeaked and flinched as his father grabbed him by the hair and yanked him up. His eyes were filled with an icy fire. But the young man\'s were filled with fright, knowing what was to come
~*~
I often wonder why I carry all this guilt
When it\'s you that helped me put up all these walls I\'ve built
Shadows stir at night through a crack in the door
The echo of a broken child screaming \"please no more\"
Daddy, don\'t you understand the damage you have done
To you it\'s just a memory, but for me it still lives on
~*~
The older man\'s mouth curved into a malicious grin, as he fixed the bed with his wand. He looked down at his son and tightened his grip on his hair, eliciting a wonderful groan of pain from the boy. He raised his hand and slammed his wand against his little boy\'s skull with a crack. He made a large cut and blood started to trickle down the side of his temple. The angel tried not to make another noise, because that\'s what his father wanted. He wanted him to yell, scream, kick, and cry. But he knew better then to do so. The less noise he made, the sooner it would be over, and he could go to sleep, or pass out.
His father frowned at the lack of a soundly tiontion, then raised his hand again. He backhanded his offspring in the jaw, splitting his lip. He could taste burning liquid copper fill his mouth, and gurgled out in pain. The older man looked to the bed, yanked on his son\'s hair again, and then threw his son on it.
On impact, His cheek hit the headboard, and he screamed as his teeth and the wood dug into his bruised cheek. He rolled over and held onto his bleeding face and shuttered in the cold dark room. He heard his father\'s expensive shoes click a few times to the side of his bed then heard the older man take them off.
~*~
Bruises fade father, but the pain remains the same
And I still remember how you kept me so, so afraid
Strength is my mother for all the love she gave
Every morning that I wake I look back to yesterday
~*~
He saw the same things he saw before all of the assaults. He saw his father\'s dark suit. The black oak, ivory and platinum walking stick. The black and scarlet velvet cape. The platinum hair shining in the faint moonlight. The glowing silver eyes that matched his own. The villainous grin etched on his face. The drunken demeanour and straight posture of his father.
He heard many sounds that he always heard when his father was in a foul, overpowering mood. The sound of his walking stick falling to the ground. The sound of the polished oak wand being placed on the table. A faint rustle of fabric as the older man\'s jacket and shirt came fluttering to the floor in a heap. The sound of a belt buckle being unclicked, and openehe she sound of a zipper slowly being undone. The sound of his father chuckling to himself, as he got onto the creaking bed, crawling towards his sobbing, shaking son.
He felt the same feelings as well. The feel of his father\'s weight on the bed. The feeling of the pain in his face. The ache in his stomach. The throbbing in his head. The feeling of icy breath on his nape. The feel of a familiar, intruding, and unwanted hand undoing his clothing. The feel of cold, clammy hands rubbing his thighs and sharp nails digging into
his chest.
He smelled the same smells. The smell of stale ale and rum on his father\'s breath. The smell of dirt and incense from his cult. The smell of smoke on his clothes and skin. The smell of horrible musky cologne. The smell of his own blood. The smell of another\'s blood on his father\'s hand. The smell of sweat. And the smell of sex all over his father.
The same tastes, he had to suffer through came like they always did. His blood, his father\'s saliva and sweat. The taste of sex. The taste of wine on his lips, and the blood of the innocent. The taste of his mother on his father\'s lips as well. The taste of liquor and salt. The taste of rotting flesh. Everything tasted like mould to him after his father\'s touch.
~*~
It\'s not so easy to forget
All the lines you left along my neck
When I was thrown against cold stairs
And every day I\'m afraid to come home
In fear of what I might see there
~*~
Darkness came over them, as screams came from his son. The sounds faded away into the night as time passed away. And all Draco could do was scream for the pain to stop.
\"No Daddy. Please Daddy, no. Stop it Daddy.\"
~*~
Bruises fade father but the pain remains the same
And I still remember how you kept me so afraid
Strength is my mother for all the love you gave
Every morning that I wake I look back to yesterday
And I\'m OK
I\'m OK
~*~
Note: Changed the lyrics a bit to fit Draco.
~*~
I\'m ok
~*~
Once upon a time there was a boy
In his early years he had to learn
How to grow up living in a war that he called home
Never know just where to turn for shelter from the storm
~*~
A little boy, sat up in his room on the second floor, weeping, hiding from the danger that lurked downstairs. A monster that would pursue anyone to hurt, not caring if that person may be related by blood or not. His breathing erratic, while his body shaking from the assault that awaits downstairs if he dared to leave his room. An assault that happens everyday during the time he\'s home. Bruises and scratches and scars. All cover this beautiful angel\'s body as if he were at war. And in truth, he is. Fighting a loosing battle with his father.
He hides in the large room he calls a bedroom. In the dark corner by his bed, opposite the door, the small figure is crouched, holding a small silver cloak, and golden lion plush. He\'s terrified to leave his room, yet he needs to relieve himself in the worst way. If he wasn\'t so scared, he would have left sooner, instead of waiting so long, but the floorboards just beyond his room are slightly offset and would squeak.
His father hates noise. He would surely punish him if he heard him leave his room. But he needs to go, so desperately so. He waits; his ears listen carefully to any noise his father would make downstairs. Any noise to signal he would be coming upstairs. He hears nothing, and all seems to be quiet. The little silver eyes, platinum angel has a war raging in his head whether or not to go out just yet. Fear keeps him from making a quick decision.
~*~
Hurt me to see the pain across my mother\'s face
Every time my father\'s fist would put her in her place
Hearing all the yelling I would cry up in my room
Hoping it would be over soon
~*~
He couldn\'t take it anymore, and decided to risk it. He rose, bringing forth his items of security. He wrapped the cloak around himself, clutched his lion plushie to his chest, and then cast a silent spell. He slowly opened the door, and peeked out. Seeing nothing, he quickly went across from his room to the other just beyond the way. He got out just as quickly as he entered and went back to his room.
Just before he reached the door, a shadow caught his eye. No, two shadows. One of his father, looming tall over another, smaller one by the stairs, which he figured, was his dear sweet mother. He could hear his father\'s yells, which were directed to his mother. He watched in terror as the larger shadow raised a black limb. And watched as it came crashing down to the smaller shadow\'s head. The little boy winced, hearing his mother, the only one who loved him, scream out in pain.
Another loud yell from his father, and the small feminine shriek shallowed and went deathly quiet. His eyes burned, knowing he could do nothing for her. He rushed into his room, and in his hast, the door slammed shut, after the spell passed by. The young boy didn\'t even seem to notice as he crawled back into the corner by the heater and began to weep for his mother. He didn\'t even hear the silent footsteps of his father coming up the stairs.
~*~
Bruises fade father, but the pain remains the same
And I still remember how you kept me so afraid
Strength is my mother for all the love she gave
Every morning that I wake I look back to yesterday
And I\'m OK
~*~
He had a good few minutes before the door to his room slammed open against the wall. The boy\'s head snaps up, complete fear filled his eyes, and dread in his heart. He slipped under his bed and peered out, hoping to hide from his father. Glowing silver met a mirror image to his. He knew he had been spotted, and tried to get as far away from the edge of the bed, in the hopes he would leave him alone.
Unfortunately, he heard a string of chanting. A lifting spell. Wimgardiam Leviosa. The bed started to creak, then shake. Soon it lifted into the air, and his father waved his hand. He pulled the boy from his hiding spot to his feet, then let the bed crash back down to it\'s resting place. The bed broke into two with a crunch. The little boy squeaked and flinched as his father grabbed him by the hair and yanked him up. His eyes were filled with an icy fire. But the young man\'s were filled with fright, knowing what was to come
~*~
I often wonder why I carry all this guilt
When it\'s you that helped me put up all these walls I\'ve built
Shadows stir at night through a crack in the door
The echo of a broken child screaming \"please no more\"
Daddy, don\'t you understand the damage you have done
To you it\'s just a memory, but for me it still lives on
~*~
The older man\'s mouth curved into a malicious grin, as he fixed the bed with his wand. He looked down at his son and tightened his grip on his hair, eliciting a wonderful groan of pain from the boy. He raised his hand and slammed his wand against his little boy\'s skull with a crack. He made a large cut and blood started to trickle down the side of his temple. The angel tried not to make another noise, because that\'s what his father wanted. He wanted him to yell, scream, kick, and cry. But he knew better then to do so. The less noise he made, the sooner it would be over, and he could go to sleep, or pass out.
His father frowned at the lack of a soundly tiontion, then raised his hand again. He backhanded his offspring in the jaw, splitting his lip. He could taste burning liquid copper fill his mouth, and gurgled out in pain. The older man looked to the bed, yanked on his son\'s hair again, and then threw his son on it.
On impact, His cheek hit the headboard, and he screamed as his teeth and the wood dug into his bruised cheek. He rolled over and held onto his bleeding face and shuttered in the cold dark room. He heard his father\'s expensive shoes click a few times to the side of his bed then heard the older man take them off.
~*~
Bruises fade father, but the pain remains the same
And I still remember how you kept me so, so afraid
Strength is my mother for all the love she gave
Every morning that I wake I look back to yesterday
~*~
He saw the same things he saw before all of the assaults. He saw his father\'s dark suit. The black oak, ivory and platinum walking stick. The black and scarlet velvet cape. The platinum hair shining in the faint moonlight. The glowing silver eyes that matched his own. The villainous grin etched on his face. The drunken demeanour and straight posture of his father.
He heard many sounds that he always heard when his father was in a foul, overpowering mood. The sound of his walking stick falling to the ground. The sound of the polished oak wand being placed on the table. A faint rustle of fabric as the older man\'s jacket and shirt came fluttering to the floor in a heap. The sound of a belt buckle being unclicked, and openehe she sound of a zipper slowly being undone. The sound of his father chuckling to himself, as he got onto the creaking bed, crawling towards his sobbing, shaking son.
He felt the same feelings as well. The feel of his father\'s weight on the bed. The feeling of the pain in his face. The ache in his stomach. The throbbing in his head. The feeling of icy breath on his nape. The feel of a familiar, intruding, and unwanted hand undoing his clothing. The feel of cold, clammy hands rubbing his thighs and sharp nails digging into
his chest.
He smelled the same smells. The smell of stale ale and rum on his father\'s breath. The smell of dirt and incense from his cult. The smell of smoke on his clothes and skin. The smell of horrible musky cologne. The smell of his own blood. The smell of another\'s blood on his father\'s hand. The smell of sweat. And the smell of sex all over his father.
The same tastes, he had to suffer through came like they always did. His blood, his father\'s saliva and sweat. The taste of sex. The taste of wine on his lips, and the blood of the innocent. The taste of his mother on his father\'s lips as well. The taste of liquor and salt. The taste of rotting flesh. Everything tasted like mould to him after his father\'s touch.
~*~
It\'s not so easy to forget
All the lines you left along my neck
When I was thrown against cold stairs
And every day I\'m afraid to come home
In fear of what I might see there
~*~
Darkness came over them, as screams came from his son. The sounds faded away into the night as time passed away. And all Draco could do was scream for the pain to stop.
\"No Daddy. Please Daddy, no. Stop it Daddy.\"
~*~
Bruises fade father but the pain remains the same
And I still remember how you kept me so afraid
Strength is my mother for all the love you gave
Every morning that I wake I look back to yesterday
And I\'m OK
I\'m OK
~*~
Note: Changed the lyrics a bit to fit Draco.