Chapter 9 of the Article. (original) (raw)

A/N: I've done the whole planning of this fic without realizing that it will shorten the chapters dramatically. And I personally get frustrated with short chapters. So 9,10,11 will be together while 12,13,14 and the epilogue will be together.

Only two more posts. Hopefully I don't rush things and ruin the effect of this fic! Also, I've only been to London once, so I really don't know the topography of the place.

Chapt.9

The greater the power,

The more dangerous the abuse.

-Edmund Burke.

Harry POV:

The planning has started for the Order to move in on the Other Side. It's going to be harsh and everything will be jeopardized. Everything will have to go to plan with the means completely justifying the end.

Harry doesn't know whether to be sick or confident at this stage of the War.

He thinks he's settled on being confident. After all it is only with confidence that one does not fall into cowardice.

Harold James Potter is no coward. He is brave and sometimes loyal (to be honest he thinks he was only ever loyal to Dumbledore). He is young and strong and perhaps one of the strongest magical beings in the world. Sometimes when he was younger he would imagine himself turning into a Dumbledore type character. Where everyone respects him and where he would have every sunlight drop smile at him while at the same time not asking for an autograph or that he sit down to have people awe and kiss the hem of his robe.

He never did tell anyone these secret thoughts. Simply because it would make him sound pigheaded and every bit the 'insolent brat' that Snape called him.

If he were ever to press these secret dreams to someone it would've been someone like Percy. Even if they hadn't been lovers; Percy knows what it is to desire to be someone not concerned with fame but still respected. The only difference being that Percy has to work hard to get to the stage down below from that while Harry was given it to him as a birthday present when he turned eleven.

Sometimes Harry feels guilty for it. Knowing that Percy now (had he not be Taken) had no chance at ever being remembered for his work at the Ministry. Even if the Weasley managed to become the Minister for Magic. No, he would always be remembered as the older lover of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived To Save the Wizarding World.

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"Get a move on it Potter. The scum won't allow you a moments rest when they attack!" The electric blue eye swivels making one both dizzy and very much creeped out.

Harry nods trying to shake the after effects of the 'Conjunctivitis Curse'. His eyes hurting from the crust that he's barely able to touch since his arms hurt from the falls he's taken.

He can feel Kingsley on the other side of the room. He's standing there because they'll train Harry on what to do when your attackers come from behind.

Harry knows it is all a necessity. He knows that this is what is to be if he is to live.

But still sometimes he wishes that instead of this he had Percy's red flames curled around his fingers. Or that he could listen to the quiet breathing of Percy as they sleep close together. Sometimes he wishes that Percy was still around so that he could touch Harry; holding Harry, sometimes just to hold, sometimes just before they made love.

Harry knows he can call it that now.

"Get up Potter." Moody is a harsh trainer as well as a man.

Harry tries to get up and falls.

It hurts.

Kingsley's deep voice rings into the room. "We should eat first."

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"Harry dear, do want some more?" Mrs. Weasley has more lines on her face. Her face is no longer the plump happy content thing that Harry always wanted in a mother. No, she's thinning and seems to be just above despairing.

Harry shakes his head.

"No, thank you. I should go and get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow." Harry smiles at this woman who's become a mother to him despite the fact that Harry never thought he needed one.

She nods the lines on her face deepen, Harry feels a pang of guilt.

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When Harry goes back to Percy's apartment (he's not sure if it should be called anything else. Even Apartment Number 209) he finds himself at a lost.

Because his eyes travel over the places where he and Percy would writhe naked when they wanted to. The places they would stand when they were screaming during fights. When his eyes travel over the little couch that Harry bought, where they would just sit. Not naked nor doing their very many variations of foreplay. No just the place they would sit. Percy would use his thumb to trace the inside of Harry's wrist.

For some reason it never occurred to Harry why they never did anything sexual on that couch. Heaven knows, that every wall in the place had been desecrated.

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When Harry takes his shower and he touches himself, it's always the remembrance of Percy's tongue in his hole that brings him to pure completion. There were a couple of times when Percy was particularly randy and would pull his cock out of Harry and lick the semen off of him. That pink tongue going down on his below his waist sucking up both of their bodily fluids when it came to his sensitive parts and the crease of his inner thigh. His nose brushing against Harry's poor spent cock. Sometimes there was a quick swipe and a very pained moan from Harry.

Then the tongue goes lower and lower until it meets the place that aches pleasurably. Percy would lick up the semen he himself put in there and all Harry would feel is the wet tongue probing where Percy's cock had been. All that Harry can think is that Percy's tongue is about to fuck him and its enough to make him come as soon as he feels the tongue go and press up to the already stretched muscles.

The rest Harry doesn't so much as feel but imagine. Even when Percy was at work Harry would wank off to the memories of it.

Even now that Percy hasn't so much as touched him in a week and a half Harry cries out and slumps spent on the shower stall. Breathing heavily as the water washes his semen off of him.

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When the night gets too dark and Harry becomes bothered with the thoughts that he is being watched, he goes into The Room. Closing the door and turning on the dimmed lighting, he can see the dolls faces reflected like vampires. There are paintings that are shades of black barely making up figures that only nightmares can produce.

Harry has begun to paint something.

Crimson eyes.

His own personal Devil.

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Percy's POV

He can feel his breathing become shallow. He could imagine that his veins are visibly pulsing in his arm from the strain. He could imagine that they look violet and pulsing as if about to burst.

He can hear the snap of the air as the leather whips down and onto his back.

He can feel the chains cold around his wrists. He can taste the blood from his upper lip.

He can sense the adrenaline coming from the person behind him.

Percival Ignatius Weasley can feel the skin ripping away and all he can do is scream.

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Chapter 10.

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Harry POV:

There is movement around the outskirts of London. Harry can tell that the Ministry is on high alert. The Order has decided Harry's training is adequate enough. It would do to keep him alive possibly 'til after Voldemort is dead.

The Order has seen a shift in the way things are being strategize by the Other Side. The sudden shift is unnerving and the Order isn't sure what it means. However they do know that it will be in the outskirts of London but near to the Ministry. To catch the attention of both Worlds, but what it is that is to catch the attention of both Worlds it is not known.

Harry is standing with both Moody and Kingsley at the Ministry. There is a crowd growing on the Muggle streets despite the fact that the Minister has gone twice to get rid of them. There are Aurors all standing outside waiting for whatever attack will come.

"Harry?" There's a hand on his shoulder and he looks up startled into the amber eyes of Lupin.

Harry smiles and mouths 'Remus' putting his hand on one of his most beloveds.

Harry knows he would be a liar if he were to say that he isn't scared.

He just quietly hopes that none of his other friends will come here.

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There's a shadow as the movements on the outskirts of one of the largest cities of the world stop. Then rise once again.

One can feel the earth shift underneath the feet as the shadows move to create something that is like a mound.

It's a shadow of something solid and forbidding because one can feel the soul of something being sucked in on it.

There is something being put upon this mound that is unnatural. It reminds on of a noose hanging back in the day of Heretics and Devils with goat feet.

The hand squeezing Harry's shoulder drops abruptly and there is a command from the Head of the Aurors and Moody is leading the members of the Order who are fighting to go forward and Harry is lost but at the same time knowing he 'does' have a destination…

The fight has begun.

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Harry's running as fast as he can but it's hard because the Other Side has started their charges as well and the air is filled with the cries of men who have nothing to lose but their lives. In the distance one can hear the barely audible sound of police cars coming the sirens ringing like the odd sound one gets in their ears.

Harry's afraid of tripping because if he trips he could be trampled and never make it to the Final Confrontation.

The bodies that press against him smell of sweat and reek with fear. He's lost sight of Kingsley's big body and Moody's wooden leg. He isn't sure where he is but he knows that he'll find something. And that something will be the thing he was looking for.

Running harder and harder Harry can nearly feel his heart ram up to the back of his throat.

Then the claustrophobic feeling that had been threatening to come over him are upon him and he needs to get away from the bodies that are up against his own.

As the curses and Unforgivables are thrown the gunshots are ringing into the air, for some reason this puts the biggest fear of all in Harry because with magic he can pretend that he is strong and has trained hard enough not to die instantly. But with a gunshot he knows that he has no defence for it.

The cry is wretched from his throat when he charges at a Death Eater about to curse him.

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The front lines are thinning and all Harry can hear is this ringing sound that allows nothing else in.

That's when he feels it.

That's when the magic senses the presence of someone that Harry loves above all else.

They have Percy.

They brought Percy.

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Harry's trying to get to the mound because he knows, just 'knows' that they have Percy there. It's hard because the Death Eaters have turned into raging beasts and the Muggles have called in the army who are shooting but not making through the barriers that the Wizards have set up.

Tripping over the Fallen and trying to keep his shields up from the curses and bullets, Harry's able to get a proper line of view of the Mound.

His heart is pounding in his chest because he feels it. His eyes are burning because he knows that Percy's here. Percy's breathing and alive.

Then all else stops. There is something like a pole in the middle of the Mound.

There are black robed figures carrying something with a shocking tone of red on the head.

Harry Potter doesn't even notice when his shields go down and the 'Crucio' hits him in the back.

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Chapter 11.

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Percy's POV:

All that he can feel is pain. Most of comes from the steel bracelets they have put on his wrists. He knows that something is going to happen and that it will be his last show. The blurs moving in his line of vision he can't focus on because it's been ages since he's had his glasses. He tries to squint but sweat gets into his eye painfully stinging it.

It's dark and all Percy can do is pray that its night. He doesn't want to die blind. After all it would be cruel to lose what sight he has. He can feel someone kick him and hear the voices yelling.

The feeling is pain when he's forced to sit up. When they force him to stand he's in absolute agony. But it gets better, with numbness sweeping into his bones and his senses are no longer burning. No his body still aches but his head has fallen to the clouds and all he can think of is when he was a kid and he would pick flowers and stare at clouds all day long. All he can think of is when he was a kid and being alive was all that mattered. You didn't have to think about what you're going to be when you grow up because it seemed like being 'Grown up' is a Forever away.

He falls back to earth with a crash. A very unpleasant crash.

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In the back of his mind there is a monster making its imprint on Percy's mind. The claws that seem to want to break out and slash Percy to pieces. The eyes the very crimson of what a lake of blood may be. There is coldness to what this dark shadow at the back of his mind brings. An ache that is slowly building the more his body is moved to that particular place.

It's all that Percy can do to remain conscious. Simply because he has a feeling if he falls asleep then that Evil Thing can get at him.

He's afraid. Beyond afraid, he's willing to die but if he does then he falls into the Evil Thing's clutches.

So he stays awake the longer it takes for the voices to fade his feet to touch a slope.

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It's a statue of the monster. Percy can't see it but he can sense it.

Then he feels it as his body is lifted above it and his back is flush against it. He can feel the granite stone of it unnaturally cold and chilling. Percy doesn't want to be here.

Then it happens. With his hands on top of one another dangling his body, the bracelets suddenly turning into something else. It reminds Percy of mercury and snakes. The liquid feel of it but the slithering quality that it has. Moving around on his wrists and then sliding up to the palm of one of his hands. Suddenly he's acutely aware of the same things on his knees moving swiftly over his calves as they dangle.

Then breaking the skin and stabbing it's way into the other side.

Percy screams as loud as his voice can go.

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If Percy could see out of another point of view he would see his body dangling in the rubber ducky shorts his mother bought him and the blue sweater with a 'P' with a red and gold tie crossing in the middle of it.

The glint of light on the badge reflecting it. The words 'Head Boy' not being decipherable.

The droplets of blood are like raindrops in a black and white picture.

The statue behind the dangling body has crimson eyes that are glinting.
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Finale