...Never show 'em your source code... (angelfirenze) wrote in white_owl_lions,
...Never show 'em your source code...

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Spectacular Obscurity - a post-'OotP' fic...

Spectacular Obscurity
By Angelfirenze

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone except Thomas and his mother. Lyrics by Three Days Grace, etc., courtesy of plyrics.com, and occasionally, lyrics.com. Summary: My second HP fic. I usually write AtS/BtVS/HP x- overs. Or just AtS. In fact, most of my HP's aren't uploaded, or even typed. They sit in my notebooks, unfinished. Bad me. Anywho, this takes place during 'Summer Days' by Lipton Lee. I figured I'd write my ideas myself instead of telling her because I have far too many and it would be easier just to have her read them. So. Oh, other inspiration for this story came from the Harry Potter Lexicon, an excellent site. Dedicated to Lipton Lee, as well as Vincent Kartheiser, because I miss him, and to Jaden Rayne Boreanaz, who is only a year and a half old and has no idea who I am, let alone being aware of the fact that his daddy is--*sigh*--frighteningly gorgeous. Well, of course not, but STILL! Oh well. And, oh hell, to David Boreanaz, and Daniel Radcliffe, just for kicks. Merry Christmas, David, hope your first-time foray into directing an episode of ANGEL is all- good. And hoping that you outdo Joss, which shouldn't be hard considering all the times he's pissed me off. You'll top him, easy. Merry Christmas, Daniel, I love your voice. ;P Hey. That summary revealed absolutely NOTHING. An utter first for me. Ok, here's another one. I'm thinking of taking Harry down a sort of destructive path. Not a public one, of course, but one inside. I got the idea from another fic I saw. Features Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Draco and a character, or two, I invented, as well as one Lipton Lee created. Jonas. This is NOT SLASH!!! This'll hopefully only be a minimum of four to eight chapters, but of course, I can never write many short stories. It takes me too long. *snicker* P.S.: Author's Note, my favorite radio station makes a cameo here. Let's just say it's a WWN station for now, and every band mentioned or played is known here as a Wizarding band. Mostly punk, of course. Slightly AU, as a scene of my own invention is integrated into the 'OoP' plot involving H/Hr. Oh, and, of course, the pairings: H/Hr, R/L, D/G, and original characters. Rating: R for angst, sexual situations, etc. Hint: I've been watching too much American Beauty, my favorite movie. That rhymes. Urgh.

Part I: Distorted Center


I'll let it show that

I'm not always hiding

Come all the way down

And watch me burn

I won't let it show that

I'm not always flying

So on the way down

I'll watch you burn


Harry James Potter lie in his bed in Godric's Hollow, mulling over the events of the last few days. He'd been uprooted from the Dursleys', dropped here--in his birthplace, nonetheless--and made to live here like one of the worst memories of his short live, one that ironically set off an entire spate of terrible recollections and encounters that would scar him for the rest of his life. If he lasted that long, that is. Turning over onto his stomach, Harry reached under his bed and pulled out the photo album Hagrid gave him his first year. Flipping through the pages, he watched his parents and Sirius waving energetically at him, smiling and being happy. Some of the photographs even had him as a baby in them. Harry bit his lip against the burning feeling that suddenly sprang up behind his eyelids. He hated it when that happened. Hated it that it happened so often. Hated the nausea and the desperation that came with it. When the burning subsided some, Harry opened his still painfully stinging eyes and looked at the digital clock that Bella had bought him from the grocery store.

3:35 am. Damn. Slowly Harry got up from the position he'd been lying in for the past four hours, his back cracking and muscles straining in protest. Grimacing, he tried to roll his shoulders to perhaps make some of it go away, but to no avail. Ignoring the pain, Harry bent down and picked a pair of black pants off the floor from where he left them hours before. Sliding them up over his dark blue boxers, he buckled his belt--a brand new studded one that Bella had also bought for him, strangely enough--and pulled on a black t-shirt emblazoned with a red star. Not bothering with socks or shoes, he padded downstairs to the kitchen, an odd sense of foreboding coming over him despite the fact that this was his house and he could get food any time of the day or night that he wanted. Pulling open the refrigerator, Harry squinted into the over bright interior, and dug around until he found the second of two egg, cheese, and bacon sandwiches he'd fixed himself earlier that night wrapped in aluminum foil. Harry unwrapped the sandwich, and placed it on a plate, before microwaving it and sitting down at the table to eat. After finishing it, he rinsed his plate, put it in the sink, and turned to go upstairs before immediately falling to his knees in agony as an incredible fiery pain in his scar overtook him. Retching up his just-eaten sandwich, Harry was blinded by the pain of another vision.

VoldemorttortureDeathEaterskillinglaughingcoldhigh... All his thoughts ran together in an excruciating mess, a whirl of violence, color, and inexplicable glee. Harry retched again before feeling himself be roughly turned over and slapped across his face. Immediately, he realized he was the one doing the laughing. Maniacally, emotionlessly, and pitilessly.


It's all because of you

I wish you never told me

I wake up screaming now

So real these voices in my head

So real these voices in my head

I wake up screaming now

I wish you never told me

I wish I never knew


Again, a hand slapped him hard across the face and Harry heard Lupin's voice, stricken and panicked, saying his name, trying to reach him. Gradually, achingly, Harry stopped laughing, his jaw hurting and his voice hoarse and scratchy. Both his guardians were staring at him, worry etched into every line in their prematurely aged faces. After coming back to himself and getting his bearings again, Harry wrenched himself from Lupin's grip. Instead of reacting, as Harry thought he would, Lupin just looked at him sadly, obviously fighting the urge to frown. Angrily, Harry jumped up from the floor and grabbed a nearby towel before beginning to wipe himself off with it. Bella came forward to help him, but Harry scowled at her and continued to clean himself before throwing it onto the floor and stomping back up to his room, his appetite having completely disappeared. After removing his pants and tossing them back on the floor, Harry fell unceremoniously back onto his bed before yanking the sheets over his head and falling into a mercifully dreamless sleep.


Somewhere you're floating high

You're not living

We are


The next morning, Harry was relieved to discover that both Lupin and Bella had been called into Headquarters for an important Order meeting. He still didn't feel like talking very much, let alone hashing and rehashing his vision from the night before. After eating a meager breakfast of toast and a small cup of apple juice, Harry left the house and walked down to the cemetery a few blocks away. He didn't know where he'd gotten the idea from, it had simply sat there in his head fully formed when he'd awakened. After walking aimlessly for about an hour or so, he came upon what he was looking for. It wasn't a very large cemetery and the graves were in alphabetical order, so it hadn't been as hard as it probably should have been. For the first time in his life, Harry laid eyes on his mother's and his father's graves. They were neatly cared for, the grass clipped and the gravestones shining in the late morning sunlight. Inexplicably, though, Harry suddenly felt the need to get as far away from them as possible. It wasn't fair, after all. Sirius didn't have a grave. Hell, he didn't even know if Sirius still possessed a body, let alone could be buried. Perhaps that stupid archway had caught him and he simply lay suspended in time, unable to move. Frozen in the instant. Turning abruptly, silently, without so much as a goodbye to his parents, Harry left the cemetery. Where he would go next, he didn't particularly care. The pain in his heart was too much to bear at that moment.

"Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human - "

Dumbledore had told him this only three weeks prior, but Harry still had yet to believe him. Suffering like this was a great stone upon his chest that would not be budged; would not be relieved. Harry hated Dumbledore for those words, for that calm tone he'd used, for the reason that he hadn't seemed to be in half the pain that Harry had been. It seemed the man could simply shut it off at will. Harry, unfortunately, had no such power. He couldn't simply shut off his emotions at the drop of a hat. He'd spent far too much time the previous year being ridiculed by Snape for that reason. Funny, really, how Dumbledore said it made him a man, but Snape said it made him weak. Easy to manipulate. Funny how Snape turned out to be right. Abruptly, without due cause, Harry's thoughts turned to Ron and Hermione or, to be more specific, simply Hermione. The previous term she had found Harry late one night in the Gryffindor common room, staring blankly into the fire. She had touched his hand and he had started, as he had not known anyone was there. The next moments he remembered perfectly, even though up until that point they had been entirely unexpected.

"Harry," she'd said his name quietly, her voice unsure, afraid he might fly off at the handle again for being awakened. He had looked at her sideways, the chair he sat in partially obscuring his field of vision.

"Harry, it's not your fault," Hermione had continued, holding up a finger when Harry began to interrupt her, as she knew he would. "It isn't and I think--I think that some part of you knows that. I think you know that your suspicions and feelings were perfectly valid, especially given that Snape stopped teaching you Occlumency--" For he had finally told them about what he had seen in the Pensieve that evening. "--and I think you're giving yourself far too hard a time about this, Harry. Sirius wasn't stupid, he knew what the risks were. All he was trying to do was what your parents asked of him. Protect you."

And in that instant, Harry had known she was right. Unfortunately, her speech didn't have the desired effect she had gone for because Harry now believed that if it weren't for him, his parents, Cedric, Sirius, and so many other innocent people could be living happy, normal lives. Lives free of pain, free of sorrow. Free of him.


Good morning day

Sorry you're not here

All those times before

We're never this unclear

It's hard to walk when you can't even crawl

Once I had this world, but now I've lost it all


Harry perceived that Hermione believed that he found comfort in her words, because when she next spoke, she came to stand in front of him and he was forced to look her in the face.

"I don't want you to hurt anymore, Harry," she told him, her eyes glistening with tears. And he had looked at her, and saw something for the first time in all the time he'd known her. Something he realized had always been there. Love. For him. And he felt something, as well. Something that far outstripped his infatuation with Cho. Love. For her, that filled his entire being, and somehow--for a mere moment--made the hurt less palpable. Much more than words could have ever done. And he had stood then, and looked at her, his heart raw and his mind reeling. And he had kissed her.


In this time are we loving

Or do we sit here wondering

Why this world isn't turning round

It's now or never


I had this over at http://www.fanfiction.net and thought it'd be great to put it up here. It's a wee bit slashy, but probably not who you'd expect. It's rated R, for swearing. If you guys like it, I'll put up the other four parts I have written (It's a WIP).
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