inheritedpain | IC INBOX: PRISMATICA

( so harry does regale him, on the walk to a convenience store just before his apartment building — the mighty tale of buckbeak and draco malfoy's arrogance which had almost gotten the poor creature killed, had hermione not been so clever to use her time turner to save him. harry tells him of riding on the hippogriff's back, soaring over a crystal lake, high in the sky far enough that he could taste the clouds, the water of rain slipping through his fingers. he tells him of the tears he spilled, when he thought buckbeak had died — and how pleased he was, to have the chance to save his life.

and in between asking jin ling his preference between ho-hos and twinkies, holding them up to see the general opinion, he mentions a name. )

And, in the end, us saving Buckbeak's life is what allowed my godfather to escape imprisonment. ( he hasn't said his name in awhile, beyond what dreams he has when he's permitted a moment's rest. ) ... Sirius Black. I think you would've —

( no, the past tense is what hurts. he shakes his head. some other time.

he holds jin ling on the walk to the pizza place across the street, picking up their order with his free hand, finding that discomfort more bearable than the idea of dropping jin ling's hand. )

I had spent most of that year hating the man, as a matter of fact. He was arrested for conspiring with the Dark Lord, against my parents, leading to their deaths. ( he shakes his head, and up the staircase they go. ) Wasn't him, actually. Actually ... he turned out to be. Really ... something, I guess.

( he doesn't mention the hope he had. the life he wanted to live. the promises sirius had made him before bellatrix lestrange pulled an unforgivable curse on him.

all he does is open the door to his apartment, newly furnished thanks to jin ling but still not much for a home, and flashes him a smile. )

I was going to say before, you would've really, really liked him. He was ... ( a little defeated, ) he was like a second dad, to me.

( was. leading inside, he sets the pizza down, taking bags from jin ling filled with food that's terrible for you, and soda that isn't much better. )

Home, finally. Make yourself comfortable.

Edited 2020-03-21 22:02 (UTC)

[ He listened.

Jin Ling wasn’t, by any real measure, someone most would consider a quiet person. But it was easy to let Harry tell him stories - fantastical and strange and yet Jin Ling never considered disbelieving them.

Especially when they kept feeling way too familiar to his own.

The word “furnished” was a stretch, really - he’d half bullied Harry into getting the basic necessities- a bed, for example - and was determined to keep outfitting him better as time went on. But at the moment it wasn’t forefront of his mind.

Instead, he was grappling with the uncomfortable awareness that somehow he and Harry’s lives had some disconcerting parallels. He wondered, idly, if maybe their worlds weren’t as far apart as he’d originally thought. Could similar people and similar traumas repeat through different worlds...?

Or was life just always this terrible and complicated.

He hands over the bags and then takes off his jacket so that he can roll up his sleeves and start cleaning the table. ]

He sounds a bit like Uncle Wei.

So I... [ Ah. Choking up again. ]

I’d probably like him.

[ He swallowed, the hand that had been scrubbing the table clean stilling. ]

... Harry, do you ever get the weird feeling sometimes that we... whenever you tell me stories, I feel like—

Do you get the weird feeling like maybe things happened to us in similar ways? Not exactly the same, but— your god father, your parents —

( there's a breakfast bar constructed into the apartment, a quarter wall that flashes a view into the kitchen. this two is severely under furnished, but there is a thrifted stool harry had found in the alley behind his apartment — it doesn't match anything, but it gives him a place to eat cereal in the morning. he takes a seat on it crosslegged, fishing out a tub of ice cream from their selection of snacks, and digging in.

no one here can yell at him about spoiling his dinner. )

Hm?

( he faces jin ling, watching him futz about. it doesn't take a genius to see the nerves in his shoulders, tense with tragedy. sometimes harry looks in the mirror, and sees this action reflected back at him. )

I think ... ( taking a bite of ice cream saves him a little time while he gets his thoughts straight, nodding at once. ) I think terrible things have happened to both of us. Terrible, unfair things.

And ... despite only knowing you for a short while, I do feel close to you, because of that. I've never really — met anyone who I could talk to, about certain things. Certain things I'd only say to someone who ... understands what it's like, I guess. ( he gives a shy smile down to his ice cream, fiddling with the spoon. ) Being with you feels really good, Jin Ling. I — like you. And — if we've both been through these terrible things, and you're as you are ... I think maybe, I might not be as terrible as I think.

Does that make any sense?

( he shakes his head, shy again, taking off his glasses to clean them. nervous habits. )

All that to say ... We do have a lot in common. Bad things, yes. ... But there's good, too, in understanding. Sometimes it's hard to see through the fog, but you've a soul of gold. I can see it clear as day from here.

[ The non-existent stain under Jin Ling's cloth suddenly becomes extremely important, and he starts scrubbing at it with renewed vigour, his face slowly turning redder by the second. ]

You--

How can you just say things like that out loud?? [ Grumbling to himself as he flushes even darker. ] For the record you definitely aren't terrible, at all, and if you say that again I will actually shake you, just--

Ugh, you can't say things like that, what am I supposed to do with that?? [ Just. Gonna aggressively attack this non-existent dirt, thanks.

His chest felt impossibly tight, a very stark mix of emotions that he can't really pull apart overwhelming him. ]

I- I like you too. Okay? Obviously. Why the hell else would I be here. [ He's going to die. ]

I just--

I would rather we didn't have some things in common. That's all.

I'm saying —

( he breathes out a rushed huff, putting his glasses back on his nose and setting the ice cream aside, so he can cross the room to jin ling, ever so lightly setting his hands on his shoulders. from this position, facing his back, he can't see the expression he's making, whether he's crying and gone numb to the pain. but. maybe it's better like that. a reprieve, for harry to wrap his arms around his shoulders, pulling him back to his chest.

another breath. he truly is no good at this, but — for jin ling, he will try. )

We can't control the things we have in common, but we have each other, now. Whatever happened, you can open up to me.

I promise to listen.

[ Kindness is not something Jin Ling feels like he's ever going to grow used to, despite how much of it he is surrounded by, these days. Sizhui, Yuri, Harry - even Hanguang-jun and his Uncle and Wei Wuxian - so much more kindness than he's usually subjected to.

It makes him choke up a little.

He lets out a long breath. Just. Get it out, Jin Ling. ]

I spend my whole life thinking that - that someone who had been killed when I was young was responsible for killing my family. [ He can't bear to even put Wei Wuxian's name to it, now. ]

It wasn't true. My...

My little uncle --

He just told me everything. How he killed my father. My cousin. My grandfather. How he framed it on a man who was innocent of everything, raising me to hate him and making my Uncle hate him, too. He --

[ He swallowed again, thickly, his eyes growing hot. ]

I don't know what I'm supposed to do. He is one of the two men who raised me. They're the closest thing to parents I had. But he killed his son, and I---

[ He cut off, grinding his teeth together tightly. ]

( he just clutches jin ling tighter through the progression of his words, not realizing he was holding a breath until he feels his lungs weigh like stones in his chest. he had theorized, boys as broken as they are can only be weighed down so violently by heavier subjects, but — not like this. these stations people put us in, choices they made, his uncle dragging jin ling down into an inherently broken world of his own design. damn it. damn him. what consolidation is there?

at least he didn't kill you?

no, fuck it. harry has a heat rising up the back of his neck, an anger in him that bursts out at the most rancid and awful of times. hermione and ron get so scared of him when he's like this, but he can't help it.

so many things are unfair in life, but the preventable, the man made and human born — they piss him off. distrust. disloyalty. lying. at least voldemort never pretended to be an angel, never acted like he wanted anything more than to kill harry. he grits his teeth and the word that leaves his mouth is pure venom, icy and deadly. )

Traitor.

( but. he can't — it's not about him. it's not even about his feelings for jin ling, how much it hurts to see him in pain because his uncle is a monster. all that matters are the shattered pieces of him, still in tact, that harry can sweep together. that he can protect, from further monstrosity. harry sighs and thumps his forehead on the back of jin ling's head, taking a deep breath. )

Did he say why?

[ Maybe that icy cold voice should be scarier than it is, but instead the low hissed word actually generates a rush of fondness. Maybe the anger on his behalf reminds him Jiang Cheng, or maybe it's just nice that someone cares that much.

Just as much as it hurts to put that word to Jin Guangyao and know that it's true.

He felt Harry's head thump gently against his own, and raised an arm to put over Harry's, pressing it tight against him. ]

... Sort of. In so far as you can really explain something like that. His position. Power. He killed my cousin to stop rumours from being generated about his condition, killed my father out of jealousy and wanting to secure power...

What does it matter why? There's no why that would have ever made it okay.

And here I am, and I can't even...

[ He wilted a little, blinking back tears as his fingers drew tight into a fist. ]

I should do something about it, but I can't. I owe it to my family to get vengeance for them, but any time I think about it-- [ He cuts off, absolutely miserably. ]

He —

( and his voice sounds different, even from the thrust of anger before. it sounds ... dual edged, echoed, like there's something more than just harry speaking to him now.

"he."

deserves it. he should die. he said the words. he hurt you. say it. cast the spell. mean it. avada — )

Ah.

( harry hisses, abruptly drawing his arms back and lifting a hand up to his scar, pulsing under his fingertips. he shakes his head, and the heir of slytherin's voice is once again kept at bay, just beyond a horizon that is always dawning on harry. he's mortified honestly, breathing shallow. )

Sorry. ( he takes a tired sit on the couch beside them, still holding his head with one hand, while his other reaches out to touch jin ling's wrist, apologetically. ) A-Ling.

( he looks up and his eyes are brighter than before, green in conjunction to the bloodshot whites, pulling back tears, fear, anger, the lot of it. he shakes his head, and grips him tighter. )

I don't know your father, or your cousin, or your grandfather, but —

His blood isn't worth dirtying your hands. You're better than him.

He shouldn't die. He should rot.

( peter pettigrew and jin guangyao have one thing in common — they're both rats. )

Edited 2020-03-24 01:12 (UTC)

[ It's the abrupt withdrawal that pulls Jin Ling out of himself for half a second - feeling hurt and confused at the same moment, he turns a little too quickly, just in time to see Harry pressing his hand to his scar and then shake his head.

The hurt disappears, worry taking its place, as he watches Harry apologize to him.

But watching Harry's face he gets the impression that maybe this isn't fully about him at all.

Maybe the parallels just run too deep.

He grimaces and then sits down on the couch next to him, taking Harry's hand in his. ]

Come on, you don't have to apologize.

[ He looked a little miserably at Harry, his face twisting. ]

Are you okay? Are you hurt?

[ Because that was easier to talk about than the fact that he didn't think he could leave Jin Guangyao to rot, even if he should. ]

( old habits are sometimes so hard to fight. he feels it — the natural urge to snap and yell i'm fine in jin ling's direction, because anytime anyone asks those questions, they don't really mean them. how many times has he yelled at hermione that she doesn't understand, that she wouldn't get it, that his problems are so far out of reach from anyone's grasp they could never hope to get what he's going through?

but it's jin ling and it's different. because he does get it, at least to a certain extent.

a smile peels up his lips, insincere and sad, and he turns his hand to squeeze his back. )

No. And yes.

( smiling, because it's always true. on the happiest day of his life, you could ask harry again and the answers will always be the same — i'm not okay and i am hurt.

it's just not especially important. licking his lips, harry rubs a thumb over his knuckles, dropping his hand from his forehead a little awkwardly. )

Just. Tell me one thing, and then I'll drop it. ( frowning, ) He wasn't planning to kill you, was he?

( because then harry is going to think about dumbledore and. that's a can of worms he thinks he'll be content to never get into in his entire life, ever. )

... I don’t know.

[ He answered it honestly, heavily, before he brought up his free hand to brush Harry’s wild bangs back from his face, trailing fingertips over his scar. ]

He said No. I asked him. If he would have killed me, instead, if Rusong had been perfect. If he’d been the heir he needed.

... he said he wouldn’t have, but how much can that possibly mean when he killed his own son?

( ah. there's an indescribable look on harry's face, although it's becoming a bit more normal between the two of them — understanding and aching, a vicious cycle that just repeats and repeats. harry can get as angry as he wants through this, but it doesn't change how hard it is to be in jin ling position. he forgave dumbledore, too. who knew his parents were going to die. who knew he'd probably die along with them, who enabled and desired his own death despite —

he doesn't like to, doesn't want to think about it. a sad smile and he leans in, knocking his forehead against jin ling's neck. )

Nothing.

( you can't trust someone like that. and yet —

he huffs, nosing in closer to him. )

You're right. I really hate all that we have in common.

See? I told you so.

[ He huffs a little but he leans back, feeling weirdly empty. Not a bad empty, but like he’d just drained himself and now was left floating.

He sighed, reaching out to grab one of Harry’s hands and lace their fingers together. ]

There’s got to be some good things in common, too, you know. It can’t just be death all the way down.

( squeezing his hand, harry changes how he's resting on him — instead just letting his head tuck onto the height of his shoulder, nearly snuggled against his side. eventually he's going to go grab their junk food and make jin ling try it all out. just. give him a minute. )

Well, there's Hedwig and Fairy.

( gun to his fucking head he could not tell you a single good memory he's got )

That's all I can think of.

Maybe ... have you ever had a werewolf for a teacher?

[ He gives a huff that isn’t quite a laugh. Yeah. They are a bit pathetic, huh. ]

I don’t even know what a werewolf is. And I haven’t gone to Gusu for the lectures so I- my teachers were mostly tutors, that sort of thing.

[ A pause. ]

... we both fly, I guess. Though you really should get a sword.

Man by day, wolf under the full moon. ( matter of factly. he turns his face up towards him, still smushed on his shoulder. ) What's Gusu?

I've only used a sword once, and it wasn't my finest. ( he nudges his side, slightly. ) That's a thought. Maybe we've fought similar creatures, before? You mentioned fairies once.

That-- I mean people here turn to wolves and stuff under the moons all the time. It never happened back home that I know of, though.

Lan Gusu is a sect. And a place. Like Lanling Jin, where I'm from. They have some really famous lectures there, so juniors from other clans often go there to study.

[ He can't help a fond little thought at the idea of Harry Potter being so strong with magic and not being able to use a sword. ]

I could teach you, if you want. Sword fighting. You should at least know how to handle one.

[ He let out a breath, leaning his head to rest on top of Harry's, a slight tinkle sounding as a golden beaded thread bounced gently against Harry's forehead. ]

Maybe? A lot of what we fight are ghosts, demons, that sort of thing. We hunt monsters sometimes. The Fairy was a rock that cultivated itself into a monster, so she was basically stone. Snatched people's souls.

It's a bit different. Werewolves don't have any control, and usually end up hurting or killing people.

Oh, it's like your Hogwarts.

( boarding school, to learn about magics and such. similar enough in its existence, in all things except that jin ling has never been there.

he brushes a small, barely there smile against jin ling. )

Sure. I mean — I used to play knights as a kid. I think using a sword would be pretty cool. Maybe I can be like your Gusu Lan, then — though, based on all the differences we have, it might not be of much use to you.

( but it is an excuse to see him more, so harry will take what he can get. tilting his head, he presses a soft kiss on the bend of jin ling's jaw. )

The ghosts at home aren't a threat, really. Same with fairies. ( but — ) You said a rock came to life? We have something kind of like that, called the Whomping Willow tree.

But you said it was your teacher. Did it try to kill you?

From what you’ve said about it, sort of, I guess. I don’t really know, I was never allowed to go. You’d have to ask Sizhui, he’s from there.

[ He felt that heat rise to his cheeks again.]

I’d like to learn your kind of magic some time, if I could. Like that spiritual deer you made. I bet that would impress Hanguang-Jun.

Ghosts- most of them are fine. You just need to figure out what it is that’s keeping them there, help them move on. But will enough resentful energy they can start hurting or killing people, and then we have to do other things.

Oh- you had a tree cultivate into a monster? Yeah, that happens sometimes. I haven’t seen it myself, but technically anything could cultivate into a monster if it really wanted to.

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