Chapt. 2 of Get Drunk
NO LONGER…
Chpt. 2
I’m sitting in this kitchen that I once thought of as the most dingy place in this decrepit house. I should’ve known that once Fred and George hit the jackpot they would fill the family house with all their riches.
I’m ashamed to think that that would be more than a step further than what I would’ve done. Was more than a step than what I bothered doing.
Sipping the tea I feel a strange forbidding, a dread to see the rest of the family…
The Potter incident is one that will not be forgotten any time soon.
I was thinking about fixing up the old chicken coop, since that seems to be the only place that the Twins haven’t gotten to. The house itself has become something that I feel uncomfortable in. The clutter is no longer there. Or maybe it is and I can’t see it.
The interior of the house feels like it’s expanded.
Which knowing the family as I do it probably has been expanded by the use of magic. I remember when Father had that old Ford car, the way it was larger in the inside to fit the entire family and Harry in it.
The kitchen is no longer that ugly colour; it’s now taken on a beige colour making the old clock noticeable.
My name is still on the clock much to my surprise. The only thing different is that Harry Potter’s name has been added. It has taken on the appearance of being furnished.
I don’t really like it. It feels somehow false.
I look down at the plate of pancakes Mother had placed
in front of me. Even the plate looks strange to my eye.
Without the cracked edges and scratched up pattern, making it seem like out of those cereal commercials that are on the Muggle TV.
I want to bow my head and return back to when normality was more frequent than what I am seeing.
BOOK OF TORN LIFE
As I flip among my pages
I dare not tear the already torn
but why I wonder, do I seek
a page with not a sign of worn
I flip and flip, without a doubt
in search of my beautiful page
but I am soon to discover
all my pages are destroyed by rage
I’ve gone through my sad novel
wispy sheet by wispy sheet
destroying all my love and joy
because I have no place in which it will keep
the gaps that I must close
however wide they gape
cannot be sewed shut
or closed up with tape
I must refill them
with something so grand
that nothing can slip through them
not even a grain of sand
maybe the sand will come from the beach
or maybe it will come off of paper
but at least I know one things for sure,
my beautiful pages will be complete, thus making me complete
burningtears
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I know that there is someone other than Mother and I in the room. I know that they are just standing in the doorframe, staring at me. With no words to utter or thoughts to voice, I know it is Father. I know that he won’t be the first one to speak.
But I do not want to look up into his newly aged and tired face. I don’t want to see the change that has happened to him as it has happened to Mother.
Instead I drink the last dregs of my tea.
Mother doesn’t seem to want to be person stuck in between us two. And obviously neither Father nor I will speak.
I remember all that I said to this man. This man from whose loins I was created.
Maybe I should be mad at that… because of my existence.
“Percy, would you like some more tea?” Mother’s voice is falsely happy, trying to deal with the tension in the room. I smile and shake my head at my teacup.
There’s a sort of hilarity at what is happening.
I just can’t really see it.
I’m beginning to regret agreeing to come here. I knew it was going to be a bad idea. However I don’t think I could’ve anticipated in a drunk, or sober state of mind just how bad of an idea.
I feel Father standing beside me. I can tell that he wants to touch me, wants to make sure I’m really sitting in the room.
I feel the pit of my stomach drop and a sharp pain in my chest rise as I feel the want to cry. Show tears that I have rarely ever shown.
Not even as a child, did I let tears plague my face.
Pride.
My joy. My curse.
Maybe I should break that pride this once. Maybe I should turn around and allow myself to fall into an embrace that can equal no lovers’ embrace.
No.
Pride, my joy my curse.
I can feel his warmth, the weariness that seems to fall off of him as scabs fall off of healed wounds.
I wish that I were someone who could turn around and say all the unspoken words that plague the pounding beat of my heart.
Alas, I am not.
His hand rests on my shoulder as I begin to eat the stale cold pancakes.
I’m sitting in my old room. Everything is as it was when I left. Mother had obviously wished that I would find the way back home. Making me feel like a runaway dog.
One of my brothers or perhaps my newly adopted brother has been sleeping in this room. I don’t really care, but am curious. After all by the way that my brothers looked at me when I drunkenly hit on Harry, that they would find anything of Percy’s contaminated with some disease.
I can’t help but chuckle to myself.
“Percy?” The voice startles me.
Looking up with a start I find myself looking across the room to the last face I would have wanted to see in this newly spaced out house.
He still looks the same as he had the week before. It seems that the drunken state of mind played no tricks on me. Milky white skin, and pitch-black hair. Yet it is those bright emerald green eyes that brings my desire out in full.
I stare at him. Pleased that he keeps my gaze. The deep red blush on his cheeks are noticeable.
I stand up.
“Sorry if I'm intruding on you. I just wanted to see this old room again.” I try to keep the humour of this situation out of my voice.
“No. I don’t mind. I just came to get my broom…” The way he trails off I am reminded of that letter he wrote.
I step closer to walk straight pass him.
“I meant what I said Potter.” I say it softy, wanting to imply something that he probably wouldn’t understand. I smile to myself as I feel him tense. Walking out of the room I feel a little giddy.
Dinner had started off as a solemn affair. Perhaps it was my presence. However once Ginny began to question me on the Muggle world, and what my work was like, the conversation rolled on.
Everyone fascinated that I could actually work with my hands. Father being the most animate in these topics.
Fred and George asking if they could sell some of their products in the Muggle world.
“… Well they have some things like what I hear you guys are selling, but understandably you cannot transfigure…”
“Of course not! But there is a new thing that we’ve made that would get us the puronds-“
“Pounds.”
“Whatever. Anyways it’s a treat that turns your eyes-“
Mother started in on them. Telling them to use common sense and not be idiots.
All the while I noted that Harry Potter kept glancing at me. Catching his eye a couple times I let my eyes fall to his lips. Wondering what it would be like to kiss them… and other things.
He was red, blushing throughout the entire dinner.
After words I had some FireWhiskey with Father despite Mother’s insistence that I shouldn’t.
“Mother, I am a drunk, true. But sometimes it OK to indulge in it.” Father had to reassure her that it was indeed fine.
Talking with Father was refreshing. I apologized for some of the things I said, the alcohol taking affect and making me say things that I probably would have never said.
I’m walking down the hall barely remembering where my old room is. I’m wobbling but not too noticeably. I decided to head to bed early, so that I could get up on time to go to Diagon Alley with the family.
Opening the door I realize what I’ve forgotten all about the room.
The sleeping form in the blankets is breathtaking. The moonlight making the face seems like one of the angels that the Muggle William Bouguereau painted. Sitting down on the side of the bed near his torso, I gently touch his face. He stirs but doesn’t waken.
I touch his black eyelashes with the tips of my fingers.
A shudder, than his eyes open slowly. I ignore it and let my thumb press down on his rosy lips. Perfectly made like that of a cherub. I look up into his now wide-awake eyes. A small gasp that sounds of my name.
Then I smile and kiss his ready lips. Softly until I know that he has absorbed it in, than I apply more pressure.
I open his mouth with a push of my tongue. As it opens I begin to undo the buttons of his nightshirt. Running my cold hand down over his nipples. My other hand on the other side of his head so that I can get a better position.
His eyes are still locked with mine. Surprised but in a good way.
I move my hand over his tight little stomach, letting him breathe finally as I trace his jaw line with my lips. He’s panting.
My hand is on his naval area.
“Percy?” He sounds unsure. Scared even.
“Don’t worry this is all I want to do.” I whisper into his ear as I kiss around it.
He leans back into the pillows in order to show that he trusts me.
My hand is moving over his most sensitive body part. I latch my mouth on his in order to quiet his cry.
My hand is moving back to foreskin and sliding up and down in slow and deliberate movements. Pressing hard, with my mouth trying to quiet him.
He thrusts up to me, my own erection getting out of hand.
He’s just a boy.
You shut up.
Finally he comes. Clutching to the back of my shirt, he releases me and falls back exhausted into the pillows. Breathing heavily.
I kiss the side of his face. Than move him so that I can lie next to him. My erection is still there, but I’ll ignore it.
Harry is tired and moves so that he is staring down into my face.
“Percy…” He seems confused.
I place my index finger that isn’t covered in his semen on his lips to shush him. I smile up into his beautiful eyes.
“Sleep. Beautiful.” He nods and lays his head on my chest.
He’s just a boy.
He is no longer just a boy.
No longer…
He is mine.
No longer…
Why do you keep saying that?
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