Insanity

I know this is wrong, but I cannot help but feel content with it. Then again, I was always one to break rules, wasn't I? Seeing this fragile looking boy in my arms, this boy who I know for a fact is not fragile, is what's driving me. Seeing those bright green eyes flashing with emotion as I touch him. They are tired eyes. Come to think of it, everyone has tired eyes these days. From weariness, old age, lack of sleep... worry. Harry and I, no, we aren't old. In fact, that's the problem. Harry is so young that everyone would only talk about how wrong it is that I'm with him. That I want him. The age difference is barely there. Two years and a few months. What are two years? Does it really matter that he's fourteen and I'm sixteen? So what if I'm about to be seventeen? Why is it suddenly a rule that I can't want him?

Oh, no, it wouldn't be wrong if he was a girl. It wouldn't matter if he wasn't so haunted looking and skinny. It wouldn't matter if he wasn't Harry Potter and if my family hadn't decided to unofficially adopt him. It wouldn't have mattered if he wasn't in the Triwizard Tournament. It wouldn't have mattered, but it does. Nobody understands. Not even George. My twin. My best friend. He doesn't get why I need Harry, or why Harry needs me. He seems to think that I'm using him. That I'm taking advantage. What ever happened to understanding and trust between brothers? Honestly, I think he's jealous. I have never spent more time with anyone than with Harry other than George. Then again, he may want Harry. I see the way he watches us. Him. We think too alike at times. I would be only too happy to share, but George would never admit it.

I love Harry, and I know what Harry likes. He likes to forget. He likes to have sex. He likes the thin line between pain and pleasure. It wouldn't matter if George was introduced to our relationship. In fact, I think it would be even better. I've never had any big jealousy issues.

The shadows under our eyes only deepen with each night we can't sleep. So we fuck until we are so exhausted we can't remember what kept us up at all. We both have our own problems. Somehow they spilled over and affected each other. Confession isn't as good for the soul as some may claim; it just corrupts the other souls who happen to hear it. There it is. Harry Potter has been corrupted by me, and I by him. It's astounding how much stress boys at our age can have, especially Harry. Through the poison of confession, we found that there's no way to get rid of the echoes of our sins other than to sin some more. A lovely contradiction, isn't it? Even so, being with Harry makes me feel content. Being with somebody as dirty as you are can only build up the illusion that you are temporarily clean. Not as insane and wrong as you may think. Misery loves company. There's no truer statement than that.

As long as we shall remain in this castle together, or anywhere else, Harry and I will continue. We will grow paler, our eyes more haunted, our cocks more in need of release for our brains than for anything really connected with hormones. It may be a strange thing to say, but I really do love him, you know? It's just not the healthiest love a wizard can have. There's something to be said about desperation in the calm before a storm. Though, can all of this really be considered calm?

Our love is so deep it's painful, or maybe it's so painful that it's deep, but it's true. Oh, yes. Our love is incredibly true. It's truer than the insanity breeding amongst the wizarding world before this war erupts. I just really don't want to think that that same insanity is the reason it exists. Perhaps it is. I just wish that it would stop being wrong. I want to feel like I'm doing something right for a change, because, isn't love supposed to always be right? It sure feels right. Maybe one day everybody else will think that. Maybe. Insanity is the perfect adaption to an insane world, after all.