Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Bloody Skies	By : TokiMirage Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 44832 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: JKRowling owns Harry Potter. Everything else is mine. I do not make any money writing this fic.

Chapter List
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- 2
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter is owned by J. K. Rowling, and I am not making any money off of this fic or the podfics related to it. Anything you don’t recognize as being from the books or movies or any other Harry Potter sources, however, belong to me. Such as the original characters and aspects of the world that are original.
WARNINGS: SPOILER ALERT – Violence, necromancy, zombies, dead things, death, blood, gore, molestation, pedophiles, vampire politics, killing, groping, frottage, aphrodisiac, suspense, assholes, slash/mm/yaoi/yuri/ff/gay relationships, sex/intercourse (in aff and lj versions), no underage sex (aka chan), huge disparities between individuals engaging in sexual activities (for example, 20 and 1000), threesomes, moresomes, student-teacher relationships, jealousy, non-consensual sexual acts, rape mentioned, actual/graphic rape (aff/lj), blood play, mature concepts, mature material, drug abuse, addiction, mind control, manipulation, biting, maybe necrophilia (we got necromancers, what can I say?), fellatio/blowjobs, handjobs, fingering, dominance-plays, bestiality (we got werewolves and demons), magic during sex (aff/lj), sexually stimulating massages, homicide/murder, genocide, magically induced orgasm, magical stimulation, mpreg, blackmail, sexual favors, human trafficking, flaying, slavery, black market transactions, betrayal, prostitution, crossdressing, mental/physical torture, interrogation, kidnapping, fisting (aff/lj), desecration of cemeteries, maiming, het couples, eunuchs, castration, self-harm, cutting, brain damage, exhibitionism, fetishism, frotteurism, masochism, sadism, bondage, autassassinophilia, biastophilia, erotophonophilia, rimming/anilingus (aff/lj)… can’t think of anything else…
These things are warnings for what may happen and what has already happened.
I would also like to thank Miranda Flairgold for letting me use her HP school idea along with the various species attending said school. Her story 'A Second Chance at Life’ has been a huge inspiration for my story! If you haven't read it yet, I insist that you do!
I'd also like to thank you lot for waiting (patiently or not) for the revision of this story. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. I have to say it's a lot better than my first attempt. (grins)
Bloody Skies
oOo
Chapter One:
oOo
He was very good at using a knife. He’d hold the handle with three fingers, the thumb and index finger holding the base of the blade on either side. With a smooth slicing movement instead of chopping, cutting could be easier than picking your nose. There was a certain art to being good with a blade, and Harry had definitely mastered it after all these years of practice.
The first time one had been placed in his hand - what was he, five years old? - his aunt had wanted him to cut the vegetables for supper. He’d had no choice but to do as she said, and when he hadn't met her standards ('Thin and evenly spaced, boy!'), he had been smacked over the head with a wooden spoon. Each night his aunt had introduced him to something new in the kitchen, and before he knew it, he was cooking all the meals.
And so it was rather peculiar, with his hatred of all things that had to do with cooking, he found himself staring at a familiar knife in his hand though now he could easily wrap his grown fingers around it. It glittered in the light that escaped from a nearby lamppost, and occasionally a beam would bounce into his eye and momentarily blind him to the gravel under his feet and the swing set on which he sat.
He had left the house with intentions not in the interest of the 'greater good', as Dumbledore would say, but now that he was out here he couldn't seem to dredge up the courage and self-loathing that had propelled him out of his relatives' house in the first place. Just his luck, really. And so, with a disgusted sigh, Harry tossed the knife onto the gravel at his feet and glared angrily up at the sky. Sirius stared back at him. Such a meaningless cluster of stars... so far from the real thing.
Absently, he swung himself on the swing. He wondered if Sirius had thought about it at some point, with the way his home life had been. He wondered if Sirius had ever wished for the bite of a cold blade while trapped in the forever repeating hell of his worst memories, too. He wondered... Fuck. What was the point? It wasn't like he would ever find out.
Harry jumped off the swing and kicked at the ground. If he wasn't going to do anything productive, he might as well go back to the Dursleys and put that knife back before Petunia noticed it gone in the morning. It would be just one more excuse for her to get on his case.
oOo
"Boy! Get down here and cook breakfast!"
Harry rolled over in bed. It wasn't until Petunia started pounding on his door and unlocking it that he actually woke up. The horse stuck her face into the room and glared at him.
"Get up! Useless freak..." she grumbled something under her breath. "Dudders needs his breakfast!" With that final screech, she slammed the door.
Harry groaned and rubbed his face into his lumpy pillow. He had been up late, thinking about Sirius again, and his dreams hadn't been terribly forgiving of late. He finally sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. In short, he felt like shit.
"BOY!!"
Another beautiful and peaceful morning at number four Privet Drive.
When Harry stumbled downstairs, it was under the stern and irritated stare of his charming aunt. He started in on the bacon without a word, waiting for the horse to finally leave him alone for a few minutes of peace. When she wasn't hovering irritably over his shoulder, he didn't actually mind cooking. Much.
Petunia finally sniffed and left the kitchen, leaving Harry blissfully to his thoughts... Right. Sirius, of course, was the first thing on his mind. He bit his lip to suppress the tears that stung his eyes. If only he hadn't been so stupid... if only he had just waited... then his only parental figure wouldn't have died. The image of Sirius's disbelieving face as he fell through the veil flashed through his mind.
"Is it done yet, boy?" Uncle Vernon grumbled as he waddled into the room. He had only been growing fatter, recently, and was currently working on a fourth chin.
Harry turned his attention back to the meal he was cooking. It had been done so many times, he hadn't even realized he'd already taken off the bacon and was working on some eggs. "Almost, Uncle Vernon," he said, careful to hide his utter loathing for the whale that sat behind him.
When breakfast was finished and Harry was serving it to the Dursleys, the raven-haired boy finally decided to open a topic that wouldn't particularly please Vernon. He just hoped a full stomach would incline him to be more reasonable.
"Uncle Vernon, I was wondering if I could let Hedwig out to eat tonight? She's been locked up in the shed for three days now. I don't want her to starve to death."
Vernon's happy visage faded immediately to one of utter irritation. "Boy, I've said this before and I'll say it again, that ruddy bird of yours STAYS in the shed! I don't want the neighbours to see anything strange!"
'I guess it was too much to hope that he would be reasonable no matter what the circumstances,' Harry thought to himself, anger curling in his stomach and twisting his insides. "But sir, it would be at nighttime. The neighbours wouldn't see any-"
"ENOUGH! No means no!" Vernon roared, his face turning a sickly puce.
Harry bit his lip to trap a rather scathing comment behind his teeth. Anger flaming through his veins, he jerkily sat down at the table and served himself the meager remains of the meal he’d just cooked. He had Dudley to thank for the leftovers. The son certainly took after the father.
When breakfast was over, Petunia sent him out of the house and into her gardens to weed. This was actually one of his favorite parts of the day, unless the sun was absolutely scorching. He liked the menial task, and didn't mind immersing himself in nature for a while. It got his mind off other, less pleasant things. It didn't take as long as he would have liked, and when he was nearly done a red-faced Vernon came stomping out of the house. He looked positively furious.
"Boy..." he growled dangerously, mindfully looking around for nosy neighbours. "Get in the house. Now."
Harry stared up at him, a bewildered expression on his face. He shook as much dirt as he could off his hands and removed his dirty shoes at the door, so Petunia couldn't get on his case about him dirtying the floors that he cleaned. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the silence.
"BOY!" Vernon roared, a glint in his eye that Harry didn't like. He had seen it a few times before.
"What?" Harry asked cluelessly.
"Don't you 'what' me! After everything we've done for you, put a roof over your head and fed you, YOU PULL A STUNT LIKE THIS?"
Harry stared.
"I JUST BOUGHT THAT BIG SCREEN TELLY, BOY! AND THEN YOU GO AND TOSS THE REMOTE RIGHT THROUGH IT!" A vein bulged on Vernon's forehead.
Harry, who now stood utterly flabbergasted in the hallway, noticed Dudley peek his head around the doorway into the living room with a disgustingly smug look on his face. He opened his mouth in outrage, intending to tell Dudley off, but his moment of inattention gave Vernon the opening he was looking for. A large, football-sized fist smashed into the side of his head. Harry never saw it coming, though he should have expected it. Vernon rarely got this mad.
Pain shattered all thought into tiny pieces. Agony spiked through his head, and soon his stomach, too, as Vernon landed a kick to his gut. The air rushed out of his lungs in a wheezing gasp, and Harry curled his body into a ball to make himself a smaller target. It had been foolish of him to think, since his Hogwarts letter five years ago, that Vernon would refrain from his more radical acts of violence. The telly had just been the straw that broke the camel's back. Or rather, the camel's temper. And now that camel was trampling him.
Another kick got him in the back, missing his kidneys by a hair. Harry peeked an eye open and saw Dudley snickering to himself as he watched from afar. The last thought that crossed his mind before he passed out from the pain was that just for once, he wished fate wasn't such a slut-faced bitch.
oOo
Sunshine. And lots of it. What a crappy way to start a morning.
Harry groaned as his body slowly pulled his mind out of blissful unconsciousness with knives and waves of pain. When he opened his eyes, the bright light shining on him sent pain spiking through his skull. 'Well, that's a lovely headache.' He moaned softly and frowned, trying to keep the pain at bay. Unsuccessfully. Thinking it best to figure out how much damage Vernon had dealt him this time, he twitched all his limbs and discovered no broken bones. Just a lot of bruises. Cautiously opening his eyes, and ignoring the sunlight, he glanced down at himself and saw a pair of purple arms. Lifting his shirt, he winced at the sight of a large blotch of black on his stomach. That would take a few weeks to go away. If Vernon didn't land another hit there in the next little while, that is. He sighed, and then winced at the pain that shot through his diaphragm.
With slow, careful movements, he sat up on the floor, cataloguing all the places that hurt. He would have to be careful to avoid bumping into anything for the next week or so. He didn't want to land bruises on the bruises, after all.
Thankfully, Petunia had seemed to not bother harassing him to make breakfast that morning, if the high sun was any indication. She might for lunch, though. He would need to be in some working order by then. A quick glance at the old, slightly busted up alarm clock on his nightstand revealed it to be 11 o'clock. With a grimace, Harry set about changing into a new set of clothes.
oOo
The summer continued in the same manner for the next three weeks. Harry did his best to stay out of the way of Vernon, did the chores without complaint, and was locked in his room for most of the evening. Vernon hadn't lost his temper since the telly incident, but he did land a good smack on Harry every now and then if Dudley managed to blame some small thing on him (even if it was impossible for him to have done it. How could he have eaten Vernon's secret stash of doughnuts when he was locked in his room all night?).
Harry had also managed to bribe Vernon into letting Hedwig out of the shed at night. He'd promised the Dursleys a summer of delicacies pulled from the recesses of all Petunia's cookbooks for that small grace. At first, he’d thought that Vernon wouldn’t agree. After all, the man could just threaten Harry to make the complicated dishes anyway, or he’d be black and blue for the rest of the month. For some reason, Vernon’s brain had missed that small detail, not that Harry minded. He was quite happy to take advantage of the whale’s stupidity. Now he was spending twice as much time cooking dinner as before, but at least Hedwig wouldn't starve.
The days dragged on, one list of chores after the other, and soon his birthday was approaching. Harry wasn't expecting any presents to lighten his mood, as Dumbledore had banned his friends from sending gifts to him. ('Owls can be intercepted, my boy.') Personally, Harry thought it was a load of crock, and Dumbledore just wanted him to be as isolated as possible from any semblance of the Wizarding World. For what reason, Harry had no idea.
It was the day before his birthday when things started to get weird. Harry was dutifully weeding the garden when Vernon came outside with this twisted sort of smirk on his face.
"Boy. Come inside the house.”
The mental bells, alarms, and other doohickeys screaming 'danger' were already going off inside Harry's head. Cautiously, he stood up from the garden and took the time to clean his hands off. Vernon was watching him with smug, squinty eyes, and didn't shoot off any disparaging remarks about him being slow. That alone almost had Harry in a full-out panic-attack.
He trudged up to the front door and removed his shoes before entering the house. Vernon went inside after him and didn't even try to kick him.
"Get in the kitchen and make dinner."
Harry did as he was bid, watching Vernon out of the corner of his eye. The whale was entirely too happy, too pleased... too pleasant, aside from the creepy way he kept leering at the wizard.
Vernon sat at the table, for two straight hours, while Harry cooked a many-course meal. He didn't even have a paper in front of him. He was just watching.
When it was finished, Petunia and Dudley were already at the table and ready to be fed. Harry served them, as he should, and sat down at the last empty chair and waited for everyone else to take all that they wanted before he could help himself to the leftovers.
Vernon watched.
It was only once the meal was done and Harry had cleared all the dishes away that Vernon spoke again.
"Boy, there's something upstairs that I want to show you."
Harry numbly nodded and walked towards the stairs. Vernon followed behind him, and Harry felt like a cow mentally preparing itself to get prodded in the ass with a red-hot steal brand.
It was much sooner than Harry would have liked that they arrived at the door to his room. Well, Dudley's old room. There was still bits of junk that whale #2 had decided were broken (read: he broke them himself) or he just didn't like. The string of locks that had been left open were a daunting image to stare at as he tried to prolong the opening of his door.
"Go inside, boy." He could hear the smile and sick pleasure Vernon's voice.
Nerves sending electricity dancing across his skin, Harry put his hand on the handle and twisted. The door slowly swung open. Harry stared at the sight in front of him.
"Happy birthday, Freak," Vernon's voice oozed in his ear like a diseased puss before the whale kicked him square in the ass and sent him tumbling into the room.
The door slamming and locking behind him barely registered to Harry. In fact, he didn't notice at all. His brain had shut down, denying the images in front of him.
The first thing that registered was colour. There was a peculiar absence of any colour but red, and black and white shades. The red and white seemed to cling to each other, swirling and swirling... Why didn't they mix to become pink? The black... well, it was a lumpy mass.
Harry stood where he had righted himself after Vernon kicked him. The blood slowly drained from his face as he realized what he was staring at. He leaned down and picked up a pure, untainted feather. It seemed to be the only one that the red, red blood hadn't reached.
Hedwig, or at least what was left of her, was splattered across his floor like a parody of a red and white mosaic. It was distinctly separate from the black ashes that had become of all his belongings. At first, logic escaped Harry as to how Vernon could have burnt everything and then transported them into his bedroom. Then he noticed the blanket under all the ashes.
Oh.
But Hedwig... his owl had probably been killed right on this spot.
Harry numbly walked over to his bed and sat down on it. He stared at the scene for a few minutes before laying down facing the wall. He curled into as small a ball he could, and cried. He cried for Sirius, for Hedwig, for his parent's photo album, for his Firebolt, for his invisibility cloak, for all his books, even for the homework assigned this summer that he had yet to finish. He cried until he had no tears left, and then his soul carried on his sorrow when his body could no longer sustain it.
oOo
11:59
Harry stared impassively at the glowing numbers of his alarm clock. They were red, and they reminded him of Hedwig. He looked at something else, anything else, and his eyes showed him a dark night sky full of stars being smothered and choked by the pollution and smog.
It was with a strange emptiness and indifference that Harry noticed an odd feeling welling up in his chest. A comforting and alien heat spread through his limbs and warmed his battered soul and body. The injuries remained, but for a moment all the pain was washed away in that comforting river of energy.
Suddenly, the power that had been pouring into his limbs shot towards his eyes, ripping through his head. Blindly, Harry gripped at his eyes to try to stop the pain. With trepidation he realized that the warmth from before had probably just been a trick of Voldemort’s to get him to relax long enough to cause him more pain than Vernon had managed. Another birthday present from hell. It felt like a cattle prod had been shoved up his eyes and into his skull and he somehow had managed to survive to suffer the agony.
As the pain came to a crescendo Harry gave up gripping at his eyes and tried to see his room. Glowing green globes widened in shock at the sight of a huge dome of golden light floating in the middle of emptiness. Reaching his hands around, he felt the covers on his bed, but he couldn’t see them. He fell off the mattress with a thump and scrambled around, trying to see the things his hands and body were feeling to no avail.
When his hands slipped on a slick and fluffy substance, he pulled them away in horror and held them up in front of him. In a way, he was happy he didn't have to see the blood and feathers coat his fingers. Trembling, he reached for his bed and wiped his hands off on his meager blanket. Anything to get rid of the sticky goo oozing between his fingers.
Wondering what he was or wasn't seeing, Harry stared up at the dome above him. It was a like a sheet of light, and many strings rotated slowly around it. When he took a closer look, it appeared to be a chain of runes. Curiously, he reached out to the chain and blinked when it stopped orbiting. How could he touch it? Shrugging, he pushed it along into new orbits and smiled slightly. It was something to distract him from the pain.
As if sensing his thoughts, a sudden burst of agony split his head in half, snapping Harry's control like a twig. When the chain shattered, the dome of golden light was quick to follow, raining like bits of glass shards around him as his eyes slipped closed.
-Toki Mirage-
So, that's the first chapter of the rewrite. Hope you all liked it more. I sure as hell did. (grins)
Sorry to all those who log in and review, FFdotNET is going to be dissing you for a while if you've already reviewed for a chapter. I tried to avoid it by updating everything at once, but this is turning out to be a long project. My apologies.
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Bloody Skies