Sorriso
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,371
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,371
Reviews:
4
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.
Sorriso
Title: Sorriso (Part 1)
Author: Anarah
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Rating: R for now- NC-17 in later parts
Category: Angst
Feedback: Would love it
Disclaimers: Not mine, damn. I have no money, please don’t sue.
Summary: After the war, Harry tries to pick up the pieces of his shattered soul.
A/N: I would like to thank my fantastic beta, Mellybopp, who made me look half way intellegent. :) Any mistakes are mine. This is a dark fic, contemplation and attempt of suicide, major angst. Please be warned.
SORRISO
As he slowly looked around, the blackness began to change itself into thick, gray smoke, rising to choke his lungs, and burn his eyes. The stench of burning flesh crushed him, making it impossible to breathe or see. Tears streamed down his dirt-caked face, though not from any emotion -- there was no time to feel. No, now was the time to do his duty, to face his destiny. Taking a blind step forward, he raised his wand and whispered a spell to clear the smoke. Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, a green light pierced the smoke around him, and a high voice spoke, “Avada K-“
*** *** ***
Harry woke up, a scream dying on his . A. As his breathing slowed, his surround com coming slowly into focus. He was in bed, looking at the peeling ceiling of the room at the Dursleys. Not on that smoky battlefield. He was safe. Harry snorted to himself. ‘Safe? Of course I’m safe. Mustn’t let the Boy-Who-Fucking-Lived be anything but safe.’ Not that it mattered anymore. Voledmort was dead, as were his Death Eaters. The curse that had killed the Dark Lord ensured all of his followers were gone for good. Unfortunately the universe must maintain balance, and the light side had lost just as many. Ron, Neville, Remus, Sirius, Dumbledore, Fred, George, Mr.Weasley and nearly every auror in England. Hundreds more, injured, thousands of Muggles dead or dying -- wasting away from unknown curses. Everyone of them his fault. Oh, he knew he hadn't said the curses or raised the knives that had killed so many, but if is wasn't for him -- for his weakness -- they might still be . . .
Harry sighed, running his fingers through his sweaty hair. ‘This is pointless,’ he thought. ‘I’m never going to get back to sleep now. May as well get up and get ready.’ Pulling himself to his feet, he began to gather up his few belongings, packing them into his trunk. Tomorrow he would rejoin the wizarding world for his final year at Hogwarts. ‘Not that much is there for me now.’ Almost all of the seventh year Griffindors were dead. The tower would be nearly empty. As empty and echoing as Harry's soul. Oh there would be a few left, Hermione, who hardly spoke a word to anyone, Ginny, who had lost most of her family, Seamus, who’s vision had been taken by a stray curse meant for Harry; and some of the younger students.
‘Gods, I wish I never had to go back. I wish I could just forget, for even a moment.’ Numbness had crept into his soul after the last battle, cold unfeeling ice, freezing all emotion. Except for the at night. The night, when all the minions of hell escaped the prison of his mind and playevoc voc in the ice fields. Only at night -- in the deepest of sleeps -- did Harry allow himself to feel.
Sitting heavily on the bed, he sighed and opened the drawer of the battered night stand. Pulling out his wand, his hand slid across cold, smooth steel. Holding breabreath he took it out, silver glinting in the feeble moonlight that shone through his barred window.
‘How easy,’ he though, again for the thousandth time, ‘how easy it would be to end it all.’ All the pain, all the frozen, dead emotion, gone in two small strokes. But he put it away, tucking it into his trunk, heeding the small cry of something that still lived, still survived in the frozen wasteland of his soul.
::Live, you must live, Harry. For if you die, I die.::
Letting out the breath he’d forgotten he was holding, Harry laughed feebly. ‘Oh, yes. Who would have guessed, the Boy-Who-Faced-Voldemort-And-Won, would be too scared to end his own life? Not that it stopped you from killing others,’ he thought viciously, before he stopped and drew about himself the comforting ice wall, blocking out all of his self-pitying thoughts. When he opened his eyes, all trace of weakness was eradicated from them and he was ready to face a new day.
Author: Anarah
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Rating: R for now- NC-17 in later parts
Category: Angst
Feedback: Would love it
Disclaimers: Not mine, damn. I have no money, please don’t sue.
Summary: After the war, Harry tries to pick up the pieces of his shattered soul.
A/N: I would like to thank my fantastic beta, Mellybopp, who made me look half way intellegent. :) Any mistakes are mine. This is a dark fic, contemplation and attempt of suicide, major angst. Please be warned.
SORRISO
As he slowly looked around, the blackness began to change itself into thick, gray smoke, rising to choke his lungs, and burn his eyes. The stench of burning flesh crushed him, making it impossible to breathe or see. Tears streamed down his dirt-caked face, though not from any emotion -- there was no time to feel. No, now was the time to do his duty, to face his destiny. Taking a blind step forward, he raised his wand and whispered a spell to clear the smoke. Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, a green light pierced the smoke around him, and a high voice spoke, “Avada K-“
*** *** ***
Harry woke up, a scream dying on his . A. As his breathing slowed, his surround com coming slowly into focus. He was in bed, looking at the peeling ceiling of the room at the Dursleys. Not on that smoky battlefield. He was safe. Harry snorted to himself. ‘Safe? Of course I’m safe. Mustn’t let the Boy-Who-Fucking-Lived be anything but safe.’ Not that it mattered anymore. Voledmort was dead, as were his Death Eaters. The curse that had killed the Dark Lord ensured all of his followers were gone for good. Unfortunately the universe must maintain balance, and the light side had lost just as many. Ron, Neville, Remus, Sirius, Dumbledore, Fred, George, Mr.Weasley and nearly every auror in England. Hundreds more, injured, thousands of Muggles dead or dying -- wasting away from unknown curses. Everyone of them his fault. Oh, he knew he hadn't said the curses or raised the knives that had killed so many, but if is wasn't for him -- for his weakness -- they might still be . . .
Harry sighed, running his fingers through his sweaty hair. ‘This is pointless,’ he thought. ‘I’m never going to get back to sleep now. May as well get up and get ready.’ Pulling himself to his feet, he began to gather up his few belongings, packing them into his trunk. Tomorrow he would rejoin the wizarding world for his final year at Hogwarts. ‘Not that much is there for me now.’ Almost all of the seventh year Griffindors were dead. The tower would be nearly empty. As empty and echoing as Harry's soul. Oh there would be a few left, Hermione, who hardly spoke a word to anyone, Ginny, who had lost most of her family, Seamus, who’s vision had been taken by a stray curse meant for Harry; and some of the younger students.
‘Gods, I wish I never had to go back. I wish I could just forget, for even a moment.’ Numbness had crept into his soul after the last battle, cold unfeeling ice, freezing all emotion. Except for the at night. The night, when all the minions of hell escaped the prison of his mind and playevoc voc in the ice fields. Only at night -- in the deepest of sleeps -- did Harry allow himself to feel.
Sitting heavily on the bed, he sighed and opened the drawer of the battered night stand. Pulling out his wand, his hand slid across cold, smooth steel. Holding breabreath he took it out, silver glinting in the feeble moonlight that shone through his barred window.
‘How easy,’ he though, again for the thousandth time, ‘how easy it would be to end it all.’ All the pain, all the frozen, dead emotion, gone in two small strokes. But he put it away, tucking it into his trunk, heeding the small cry of something that still lived, still survived in the frozen wasteland of his soul.
::Live, you must live, Harry. For if you die, I die.::
Letting out the breath he’d forgotten he was holding, Harry laughed feebly. ‘Oh, yes. Who would have guessed, the Boy-Who-Faced-Voldemort-And-Won, would be too scared to end his own life? Not that it stopped you from killing others,’ he thought viciously, before he stopped and drew about himself the comforting ice wall, blocking out all of his self-pitying thoughts. When he opened his eyes, all trace of weakness was eradicated from them and he was ready to face a new day.