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Post by loekie on Nov 19, 2008 12:55:50 GMT 1
The blond frowned.. yeah he was finished. The other boy smiled and told him he wasn’t going to use them as shields to win.
The small child shrugged “then you all are sure to lose” he simply stated. He gave up. He’d tried making his point, tried to keep the raven-haired from making a mistake The way the blonde saw it the raven-haired had two choices, one, he’d fight alone and get everybody killed, or he’d fight alongside his friends and maybe some of them would stand a chance, but if the bloody git wouldn’t listen, is wasn’t his problem.
"Besides, Voldemort hasn't gotten me yet… even with help”
This was said with such meaning and implication. The way the teen paused and stared at him… he didn’t miss the hidden message. He wondered what had happened. He met the other’s eyes “what help?” he asked to get a bit of an idea of what had gone down.
"Love might hurt, but it's also brilliant. It makes you want to live… it's transforming, protective, even when all hope is lost” the boy now told him but he wasn’t finished yet as he just continued "I love them so much that I'm willing to die protecting them… and to hurt myself by pushing away, in a weak attempt to keep them safe… and you're going to grow up to be cold, apathetic and heartless to the world and those around you. You won't even hesitate to hurt those in your way…"
The blond looked up at this “bullocks, you’re pushing them away for yourself. You’re scared of what might happen if they actually stood beside you and you win. Scared of what might happen if you won and lived with their help as maybe others died, scared of the guilt you goody-two-shoes are most likely to feel” he shrugged “but shouldn’t it be their choice, and not yours?” he let that linger for a moment before addressing the last part of the raven-haired’s little speech.
“Well.. what can I say? Apparently I’m smart” he smirked.
"I'm willing to die for love and you're willing to live without it. Who do you think is worse off, Malfoy?"
The blond thought about this. He really didn’t know the answer since he had never actually knew what it would be like to actually love someone, let alone so much you’d be willing to die for them. He however wasn’t going to give in as easily and simply shrugged.
“hmm.. Well since how I’ve been fine.. and well.. alive, whereas you are miserable and very probably going to die… I’d say I’m the one much better of” he concluded looking at the other boy again.
The ‘golden boy’ was staring at him again. The blond wondered what he was thinking about. This was all unnerving but he was careful not to show any of that.
He now imagined what he’d be like in about 10 years. According to the boy before him he’d be ‘cold apathetic and heartless. He sighed inwardly. He supposed that was good. It was what he’d wanted people to see him wasn’t it?
Well at least he didn’t have to worry about people finding out his secrets. He pushed himself upright again speculating what the boy across of him was looking at him like that for? What on earth could be so very interesting? He was extremely glad when the teen turned his attention back to the game at hand and the child’s eyes followed the piece he’d just moved.
As they played in silence for a while the blond’s thoughts ran wild. At first he was thinking about what he’d just learned. Voldemort was back… and this boy would have to defeat him? It was almost funny. Then his mind wandered towards his father and how long he’d be able to stay here and avoid the older Malfoy, a second later, he was thinking on what he’d be like in 10 years.
He’d think about a million and one things and meanwhile was keeping an eye on the game. He moved a piece and realized that he’d loose one more pawn before he’d be able to put the raven-haired check-mate.
The blond sighed inwardly. Why did things always have to be so difficult? He whished that, just for once, life would give him a break. He must have done something really horrible to deserve the life he’d been dealt and even though the young boy and already accepted it as a fact but sometimes…
He pulled himself out of his own little world waiting for the other boy’s move.
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 19, 2008 16:20:04 GMT 1
The more the game progressed, the less of a distraction it became—well, no, that wasn't right. It was still a distraction, just not in the way Harry had originally wanted it to be, because he was still thinking. A lot. And about a lot of differrent things, things he really didn't want to think about. He knew he wasn't as selfless as he had just made himself sound for pushing his friends away. He was doing it to protect them, yes, but he also knew that it was one of the most unbelievably selfish things he had ever done. He knew that they wanted to fight beside him—and he knew he couldn't let them. This was his fight, not theirs, not when it put their lives at risk unnecessarily. He remembered what Malfoy had said in first year, when Malfoy had offered him his hand. He wondered how different things would have been if he had taken it—would he be dying to protect Malfoy right now, or would he have let Malfoy in on the secret? Or would he have been part of a bigger secret, the world's savior gone to the dark side? And then he thought about Malfoy in general, if his thoughts were at all correct—had something happened? If so, what? He couldn't imagine a normal six-year-old acting like this, and while Malfoy hadn't ever been normal, had his childhood really been that short?
More distracted now than he had been through the entire game, Harry stared down at the chessboard, spotting Malfoy's piece, so close to his king—and he knew that this was one fight he wasn't going to win. He wondered what Malfoy's last question would be.
Moving the piece Malfoy wanted him to, he was sure—the one Malfoy would then jump to get to his king,—Harry looked up.
He wanted to ask him what had happened, but knew he wouldn't.
He had always had a certain lack of respect for Malfoy—a certain disregard to his rights—and yet, he wasn't going to pry that deeply. Maybe he just didn't want to see Malfoy as a human, or maybe he just wasn't that nosy... or maybe it was a combination of both.
Something had certainly changed though, through out this chess game—at least for Harry.
He was afraid—no, he knew—he probably wouldn't ever see Malfoy in the same light.
And he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.
He thought for a moment. None of the questions he really wanted to ask were in this Malfoy's power of answering. Damnit.
So he asked something simple, something he knew Malfoy wouldn't answer... truthfully, anyway.
"If you could have anything in the world change—what would it be?"
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Post by loekie on Nov 19, 2008 19:04:45 GMT 1
“If you could have anything in the world change, what would it be?”
The child looked up at the sudden breaking of the silence. He’d been so deep in thought he’d missed the moving of the pieces. He watched the raven-hairdes piece smash his pawn and smirked inwardly.
‘My parents’ the boy thought bitterly. Maybe the other boy was right. There was something to this thing they called love. He’d never experienced it and for the most part was thankful for that, but if the boy was right… than maybe he was missing out?
Ugh… maybe this game hadn’t been such a good idea after all… He would now have to think of something else that he’d want to change… he sighed his mind going a mile a minute. What did he want to change? He really didn’t know. He had never thought about it since having dreams in his family were dangerous.
He let his eyes meet the green ones.. maybe he should just be partially honest? That couldn’t hurt could it? Ugh like it mattered “I would want to change….” he hesitated ever so slightly “maybe how everybody think they know me, expect me to act a certain way…” he answered the question, which, alright… was the next best thing.
Because of his father’s status in the wizzardian world, there would be loads of press and stories about the Malfoy family, and it always depicted the small boy as a tiny version of Lucius himself and how he probably couldn’t wait to walk in the older man’s footsteps. No-one however had ever asked him. They all just assumed, and there was his father that expected him to act like a Malfoy. Hard, ruthless and without mercy. He had been forced to act from such a young age, that the blond himself really even wasn’t sure what he what he wanted, let alone who he himself was.
As the years would progress, it would become even more cleared and the 15 year old himself could barely even see the difference between him and his father.
His eyes moved back to the board and took one more pawn of the teen before him and then smiled “check-mate” he commented effectively ending the conversation. He looked up at the boy “one last question” he said and thought deeply “hmm… do you think you’re up for it? That you have the stones to pull this of??” he asked his eyes on the green ones curiously.
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 19, 2008 22:50:48 GMT 1
Harry wasn't completely able to hide all of his surprise at Malfoy's answer to his question. It came off considerably more genuine than Harry was expecting, and he supposed, the answer made sense. A little bit of Malfoy's humanity showed in the words, and Harry again wondered how his childhood could have been so short. He wondered what had changed for Malfoy to act like this, instead of how normal kids acted—and he wondered what role he was forced into, against his will, at the age of six. From the looks of it, it was the perfect little boy, because surely his parents found no flaw in this—this dignified and somehow cold six year old. Unless... Harry's thoughts went back to his abuse theory.
He said the first thing that came to mind, after that.
"If you're sick of everyone expecting something from you—this, I'm assuming," he motioned to Malfoy with a slight, casual wave of his hand, "then why are you filling their expectations?"
The answer was obvious, he supposed—because they wouldn't let him do anything but that—so Harry wasn't surprised when Malfoy didn't reply.
A bit more seriously and with a slight edge, sounding very much like the sort of person that knew something they shouldn't, Harry said, "You still have a voice, you know. Don't let them take it away from you."
And then Malfoy was making the move Harry had predicted he would make, moving so that he was in check.
"Checkmate," said Malfoy, smiling, perfectly intent on ignoring what Harry just said. Harry noticed that the smile didn't quite reach his eyes, even when he should be basking in triumph at a game won. He waited patiently for Malfoy's question, and was hardly surprised at the subject matter.
"Do you think you're up for it? That you have the stones to pull this off?"
Harry's mouth twisted into a wry, humorless grin. He shrugged, surveying Malfoy carefully.
"Anf if I didn't think I did? It would be a little too late now." He paused, knowing that that didn't really answer Malfoy's question. "He's killed my parents—some of my friends—and how many other people? If I think about it, it seems like the only reason I'm here."
And really, that was true. He hadn't ever known his parents—and his other family, there was no sort of connection there that really bonded them—the closest thing he had to family were his friends, who had pushed him away last summer, just as much as he had pushed them away. None of them had written, or replied to his letters when he had sent them. None of them had called, which, admittedly, wasn't that big of a thing with Ron—but Hermione? None of them had kept in touch, at all, and then when he was practically arrested, only to end up in Grimmauld Palace, they magically expected things to be okay again. As much as he loved his friends, and as selfish as he was being, trying to push them away to one, save them, and two, ease his own guilt when he died—there really wasn't anything to tie him down. He shrugged again.
"So yeah. I do. It might not be enough, but I'm going to die trying. I'm not afraid of him."
He didn't care enough to be afraid anymore.
He looked at Malfoy for a moment longer, about to ask if he wanted to play another game or not—though Harry was not interested in Chess again, definitely not—when a noise came from outside the portrait hole. Automatically, Harry turned to look, more than a little surprised when he recognized the voice—and then, the sound of the portrait hole swinging open.
Oh shit.
Ron.
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Post by loekie on Nov 20, 2008 0:30:41 GMT 1
The blond looked to the teen as he after he answered the question. Sure he didn’t care about what the raven-haired thought, but still…
"If you're sick of everyone expecting something from you… this, I'm assuming, then why are you filling their expectations?"
This was emphasized with a gesture in his direction. J st marvellous. He should have just kept his big mouth shut. He sighed. The teen just didn’t understand. Hell, even filling their expectations wasn’t good enough, what the hell would they do if he’d simply stop doing as they wanted?
He knew the boy didn’t have a clue… but still.. it was just.. he wouldn’t survive and so it was just best and well healthiest to just go with it. Even if he’d start acting differently it wouldn’t matter… besides he wouldn’t know how to go about it, he didn’t know who he was.
The small boy choose to ignore the question and never replied and was surprised when the other boy spoke again.
"You still have a voice, you know. Don't let them take it away from you."
The blond smiled bitterly. He was no fool, and he was a very fast learner. He knew he didn’t have a ‘voice’ as the other had called it…. never did, and probably never would have. His father had made sure of that.
He however choose to ignore the comment once again and refocused on the board. The game was over and he’d won. Normally he’d be thrilled and whatnot. But right now he was practically going through the motions. He was waiting on and answer and when admittedly the answer had been a little unexpected if what the boy was telling him was true he could see why he was feeling that way. If Voldemort had indeed killed his parents and some friend while systematically trying to kill the raven-haired over the years he could see why, now that the ‘dark lord’ had returned and was on a warpath, that the teen was feeling his whole being here was for simply that reason.
Who knew? Perhaps he was right… but did it matter? He was still here and well.. had to tough it out just like the rest of them.
The blond set his grey eyes on the boy across from him as he told him he wasn’t afraid and he could tell it was the truth… fool… there was much worse things then death, the blond knew from experience, and Voldemort certainly would know this too and sure as hell would not hesitate one bit to use them.
The boy looked at him again and was about to say something. There was a noise from outside the portrait and the blond looked up alarmed. He wouldn’t have enough time to jump and hide. Then there was a voice from outside the room.. one he didn’t recognize. He saw the other boy’s reaction and realized he did recognized it and wondered whom this could be. Then the portrait swung open revealing….
A tall skinny red-head entered and looked around the room. He needed to have a heart to heart with Harry… things had been a little strained lately, and he knew he and Hermione had not kept in touch over the summer… but they had been ordered not to. No matter how awful the two had felt, Harry’s safety had been in jeopardy and the redhead would have never forgiven himself if something had happened to his best friend because of him and he knew Hermione had felt the same..
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 20, 2008 0:39:45 GMT 1
Ron went into the room with the intention of having a heart to heart with Harry, but the moment he looked to Harry and smiled, he could see the alarm in his eyes... and of course, looked to see what would be causing it. Sitting there, right across from Harry in front of the fireplace, was a small, blond boy, with pointed features and light eyes. Harry was on his feet in a single moment, vaguely wondering how Ron got inside but too panicked to take the thought much further. He moved forward, in front of Malfoy. He stood protectively in front of the other, trying to block him from view, as if Ron would just forget about what he just saw. He wasn't sure what Ron's reaction would really be, but he knew that it wouldn't be anything good. Ron's eyes widened considerably and he stepped to the side, peaking behind Harry, his eyes locking on Malfoy again. Harry imagined he would find it comical, in any other situation... the look on Ron's face. Right then, though—he set his jaw, watching Ron carefully.
"Is that Malfoy?" Ron asked, spitting out his name as if it were something foul. Which in Ron's eyes it was. He laughed, and the sound had a certain edge to it, almost hysterical sounding. "What the hell happened to him?"
Harry shrugged, not sure if he should answer that.
"Of course it's not Malfoy, Ron. You know what Malfoy looks like."
Ron scrunched up his face. To him, Harry's voice came out a bit more patronizing then it was meant to, maybe because he had always been second best to Harry. Always the sidekick, standing just outside the spotlight.
"I'm not stupid, Harry."
Harry frowned.
"I never said you were—but really? Malfoy's our age, Ron. How could this be Malfoy?"
Harry forgot one critical thing in his plan to distract Ron though, to keep him from realizing the truth, if only so Malfoy could leave the room and leave harm's way—Ron had grown up in the Wizarding World. He was raised around magic, and knew what it could do. Especially growing up with Fred and George—he knew a thing or two about manipulation enchantments.
Ron's eyes darted to the boy behind Harry, his desire to move closer and have a look clear, and then darted back to him.
"I'm not stupid," he repeated, his voice a bit harder now. "Potions, spells."
Harry hesitated, not sure what the best thing to say would be. And Ron took that hesitation as an answer, of course. He scrunched his face up again, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. His desire was still there, but he was more curious now, curious as to why Malfoy was there, and why Harry was protecting him, of all people—because of Harry's stance, it was very clear that was what he was doing.
"Why's he here?"
Harry quickly assessed the situation. Ron wasn't going to leave them be without an answer, not even with a vague one, but he knew it wasn't his story to tell. He had promised Dumbledore and Snape that he wouldn't let anyone know—and while this was sort of out of his hands now, he wanted to at least try keeping that promise. If worse came to worse, he'd spill the beans, but he needed to get either Malfoy or Ron out of the room. For some reason, despite Ron's temper, he thought he had a better chance at getting him leave than Malfoy. Malfoy was a stubborn little brat.
"Let's go to Dumbledore, Ron."
Realization dawned on Ron's face.
Dumbledore. Of course. Dumbledore had always had a way of manipulating Harry—and usually Dumbledore was right. Ron was willing to admit that. This time, though... this was Malfoy, for Merlin's sakes! He didn't know what had happened to make Malfoy's age progress, as it obviously had, but he was going to grow up into a death eater, no better than his father. To make Harry protect him—to put Harry at risk like that... he swallowed, looking back to Malfoy. Anger started pulling at his heart and he looked to Harry for but a moment.
"But Harry—you remember all of the things he's said, don't you? About me? Mione? You? Your parents?"
Harry grimanced at that last part and Ron saw his best way of making him see reason.
"Ron—"
Ron interrupted him, his eyes flashing, going back to Malfoy. Adrenaline coursed through his veins—he remembered all of the times Malfoy called him worthless, told him that he was poor and good for nothing—all of the jokes he made about his family and, above all, the things they had done to him. Harry couldn't have forgotten all of these things, could he? Harry knew how Ron felt about Malfoy—and Ron thought the feeilng had been mutual. Maybe it wasn't as strong with Harry, considering he had bigger fish to fry, but this—this was betrayal of the worst kind.
"No! Tell me. You remember, don't you? Everything he's done—to Hermione, to my family, to buckbeak—the jokes about the Dementors, about your parents, about Cedric—"
"Ron!" Harry visibly straightened and set his jaw. "Shut up."
He wasn't about to have this conversation. Not like this, when Ron was so angry, refusing to see reason. He didn't want to hear these things because he already knew them—but Ron didn't know the whole situation. Harry really didn't have a choice.
Surprise flashed over Ron's face. He knew Harry was protecting Malfoy—but to hear him defend him, even in the slightest way possible.. he gave Harry an incredulous look.
"You're not really protecting him, Harry, are you? After all of that?"
Harry sighed, though his body was still tense, and he tried calming his expression.
"It's a long story, Ron," he said, his voice a bit softer, reasoning. "And I'll tell you—just not here."
He figured that was a promise he could keep, and changing tactics, it may be his best shot at making Ron calm down and see reason for a minute. He already knew something was up, after all. Ron was right. He wasn't dumb, and it really didn't matter if this wasn't his story to tell now. He had tried and it was clear Ron wasn't going to see reason without knowing.
"I'm not going anywhere, Harry. Not when that little ferret is here. Dumbledore's just manipulating you—he's dangerous," demanded Ron, growing more angry by the second. To see his friend like this, so blind and niave—he moved forward, a movement catching his eye and he looked to Malfoy again, his anger in his expression now. That good for nothing little ferret—Harry misinterpreted the look as something more and before Ron could quite register what was happening, Harry's wand was out, pointed at his chest. Ron narrowed his eyes, his face flushing red. A wounded look flashed across his face, his eyes finally meeting Harry's, and Harry could tell what he was thinking, even before he said it.
"This is what it comes down to, eh?" Ron asked, almost growling. "You're picking him over me?"
"He's just a child, Ron."
"Bloody hell he is! He's going to grow up into a murderer, Harry!"
Harry shook his head, his voice soft.
"You don't know that."
Ron let out a bitter laugh. More of a bark than anything. What had Malfoy said to him?
"Wrong. I do. And so do you, if you think about it. Dumbledore's manipulating you." He looked to Malfoy for a moment and then back to Harry, "So is he. He's just tricking you, Harry. Come on—think about all of the people he's going to hurt when he's older... about all of the things his family has done—everyone they've killed—he's just going to follow in their footsteps!"
Harry remembered what Malfoy said about expectations and again, things clicked. That's what everyone expected him to do, wasn't it? Be just like them, his parents, Lucius? He frowned.
"That's not fair, Ron. He's not Lucius."
"Bullshit. If you won't do something about this, Harry, I will."
Ron took another step forward and Harry raised his wand again, his hand steady.
"Not another step, Ron," he warned, his eyes dark.
In retrospect, he imagined Ron didn't actually think he'd do it. He could imagine where Ron was coming from. They had been friends for so long—they had almost literally been through hell and back. They were like brothers. And Malfoy? Malfoy was the git that Harry wouldn't look twice at, even if he was paid. He was no better than a Death Eater in his book. Ron's, too—only in Ron's, he already was a Death Eater. Nevermind the fact that his arm was bare, that he hadn't joined yet—it was inevitable and because of this, to Ron, it had already happened. So, in retrospect, Harry supposed he shouldn't be surprised when Ron lunged forward, perfectly intent on wrapping his hands around Malfoy's neck and what? Hitting him? Hexing him? Ron reached for his wand and Harry shouted out the curse before he could have second doubts.
"Stupify!"
A red light flashed from the point of Harry's wand, consuming Ron, and he froze in midair, falling to the ground.
He stared down at Ron's body for a moment, knowing that the spell would only stun him for a moment and that he was fine, brushing away the surprisingly distant thoughts that were screaming at him, asking him what he had done and what if something went wrong? Somehow, he was expressionless, and he glanced back at Malfoy, his eyes hard.
"Malfoy, go into the bedroom," he said, his voice just as hard as his eyes. The madman was back. Before Malfoy had a chance to argue, he added, "Now."
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Post by loekie on Nov 20, 2008 2:23:48 GMT 1
The blond swallowed. The red hair. The hand-me-down robe? This must the Weasley they had been talking about. d**n.. why had he left his wand back in his room? He jumped to his feet as the raven-haired boy stepped in front of him… to protect him?
He was trying to make the other boy believe he wasn’t Malfoy. That he was wrong since obviously he had been 15 and not 6…
The red-head didn’t go for it however how-ever and insisted he wasn’t stupid and knew d**n well that this was Malfoy.
“Let’s go to Dumbledore”
The raven-haired suggested as he realized how his friend could get, but again the other boy dismissed it. apparently he had said some really horrible things and it made the blond think. Had he really meant that mean stuff? Or was there some other reason. Something deeper… something…
What the 6 year old didn’t know, was, that as the years progressed the pressure and punishments only became worse, and that, when he had first tasted the slightest bit of freedom his first year at Hogwarts where his father wouldn’t be on his back 24/7 he had found that tormenting others, controlling them, actually made him forget about his own sorry pathetic excuse for a life.
Sure he knew it was wrong… that making other hurt with you, even if they had no idea of it, just to make your feel better wasn’t the answer but it also made for one hell of cover. Nobody would expect the school-bully… the rich spoilt brat… to really have any major issues. For the boy who always boosted about how great his father was, his loving mother that would sent him sweets to be badly punished for the littlest things. And that, for the blond teen worked just fine.
"No! Tell me. You remember, don't you? Everything he's done—to Hermione, to my family, to buckbeak—the jokes about the Dementors, about your parents, about Cedric—" he heard the redhead growl.
The blondes head snapped up… what had he done? Had he really hurt them that bad? He sighed slightly. This was brilliant. Thank you Severus the small blond thought bitterly. He watched the two boys before him and wondered how far the dark-haired was going to go take this protecting thing against his friend.
The blond didn’t have to think deep. He’d probably thrown a few good insults… maybe a couple of mudbloods… probably a few good thrashings of the Weasley family about their wealth… but what about this Buckbeak… and Cedric? Hmm.. well.. it didn’t matter.
"Bloody hell he is! He's going to grow up into a murderer, Harry!"
And when the other boy tried to defend him the red-head cut him of.
"Wrong. I do. And so do you, if you think about it. Dumbledore's manipulating you” and while looking at the blond he added “So is he. He's just tricking you, Harry. Come on—think about all of the people he's going to hurt when he's older... about all of the things his family has done—everyone they've killed—he's just going to follow in their footsteps!"
The small boy wanted to stomp his foot.. yell, kick scream anything… He didn’t WANT to be like his father… he didn’t want to kill. He simply did not have a choice. Doing any of this would get him in trouble and so he simply stood there his jaw clenched and tiny fists balled in frustration.
When the boy lunged towards him cringed, scared. The look in the other’s eyes screamed murder and was the same look he’d seen in father’s eyes plenty of times and it freaked him out. He was really getting desperate for his wand.
Then something unexpected happened and a “stupify” sounded through the room with only moments later the sound of a body hitting the floor. Paralyzed for the moment being. There was a hard look in the raven-haired’s eyes and when he turned to him telling the blond to go to the bedroom he simply nodded and made his way out of the room.
He sat on his bed his thoughts running all over the place… okay, so he would really grow up to be one hell of a bastard. Well.. at least his father could be proud. He sighed though. He knew it should bother him more… knew that he should feel bad for the people he’d hurt… it was called conscience right? Yeah.. he’d read about it, but for some reason he just could care enough to feel bad. Maybe that did make him like his father. Ugh.. that thought just scared the crap out of him. The boy supposed though it wasn’t as farfetched. It had inherited half of his father’s genes right?
He had been raised to be heartless… to have no feelings.. no emotion.. no conscience. He figured it had already rubbed of and left him the empty shell of the one he’d see in the mirror.
He rose to his feet and moved to the window-sill where he sat his knees bent and his chin resting on them as he stared out the window his blond hair falling into his face like a curtain before a window…
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 20, 2008 2:53:21 GMT 1
Harry was vaguely relieved when Malfoy listened, retreating to the room without a word, as expressionless as always. Only when he heard the sound of the door click, Malfoy safely behind it, did Harry move forward. He glanced down, pained by Ron's eyes, looking up at him, clearly accusing. Maybe he wouldn't have to push Ron away anymore. A slight, bitter smile wanted to pull at his mouth, but he resisted it. His eyes met Ron's, saying the apology he couldn't force himself to utter outloud—and then his voice rang out, sharp and clear, calling for Dobby. He wasn't too surprised when he came. He figured that Dumbledore would want someone to watch over Malfoy like this—and from the conversation he hadn't heard between Dobby and Malfoy earlier, he sounded like the perfect candidate. Even if Dumbledore hadn't requested it—Dobby probably would have been listening for his name anyway, just in case they needed anything.
"Is there something I can gets you Mister Master Harry?" asked Dobby, grinning. The grin disappeared moments later as he spotted Ron laying on the floor. He looked to Harry with wide (okay, wider), surprised eyes.
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore if you would—thank you, Dobby."
Dobby didn't reply, but instead disappeared with a pop.
Harry thought of moving Ron to a chair, but knew he wouldn't be able to lift and support his weight himself—besides, he should be unparalyzed any moment. Which would put Malfoy at risk again, he was sure—him, too, for that matter. He couldn't imagine Ron would be pleased with him for hexing him. So, a bit guiltily, Harry leaned down and removed Ron's wand from his pocket, mumbling an apology under his breath. Couldn't have him hexing anyone. He remembered that unfortunate incident with Ron's old wand—and how funny it had been to watch him puke slugs afterwards.
Straightening, Harry lounged against the couch, supporting his weight with his outstretched hands, careful not to look at Ron.
Minutes passed and there had been no change—Harry was starting to worry.
Thankfully, Dumbledore entered but a minute later.
He didn't even need to say anything before Dumbledore was in the room, moving forward and checking Ron's pulse with gentle fingers. Harry watched quietly, Ron's wand weighing heavily in his hand. He didn't feel guilty though, not about hexing Ron, and for some reason, that made him feel guilty in general. Ron was supposed to be his friend—but he imagined what would have happened to Malfoy if Ron had succeeded in moving forward. Yeah, Malfoy might be able to hold his own—and in that case, he imagined what would happen to Ron.
Either way it wouldn't have been good.
Dumbledore looked up at him, smiling sadly.
"He's fine, my boy," he reassured, straightening. "He should be up and about in another minute or so—you put quite a bit into that spell, didn't you Harry?"
Harry shrugged.
"I didn't mean to, I just—"
Dumbledore held a single finger to his mouth, motioning for Harry to be quiet. His eyes twinkled dully.
"I know. Severus will be here soon—and I trust he'll want a word with Draco," he said gently, something in his eyes telling Harry he knew something he shouldn't. He continued, suggesting, "Maybe you'd like to go check on him first?"
Harry nodded. Come to think of it, that sounded like a brilliant idea. He knew he should be there when Ron got up—hear Ron scream about him to his face, but he was almost worried about Malfoy, though he knew he needn't be. He pushed himself off of the couch, moving forward to hand Ron's wand to Dumbledore.
"I didn't want him to hex anyone," he explained, a bit guiltily. Dumbledore simply smiled, taking it without a word. He moved toward his room, knocking on the door twice before entering. He was careful to shut it behind him.
"You okay, Malfoy?"
Again, he knew the answer before the words even left his mouth.
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Post by loekie on Nov 20, 2008 11:32:25 GMT 1
The blond stared out the window watching the students that were roaming around outside kind of looking like ants from the height of the tower and he briefly wondered what was going on in the other room. It had been quiet ever since he had gone into the bed room. He sighed when there were hushed voices and he figured perhaps that that Dumbledore guy had come. He wondered if the old wizard hated him as well. He supposed he did. Apparently he’d been a right ass.
He leaned his head against the wall. This all was just… He closed his eyes. The blond thought about what had been said. Would he really end up filling his father’s footsteps? He assumed he would… what choice did he have really? His father surely wouldn’t allow anything else, especially now that ‘the dark lord’ had returned. He clenched his fist in frustration and for one of the first times he could feel his anger building inside bubbling just beneath the surface, and maybe it was this anger and bitterness that would once drive him to torment his school-mates.
He took a few deep breaths before simply staring outside watching as some first years ran about laughing and joking and he whished he could have that. The carefree attitude, the not having to worry about anything. The blond ran a hand through his hair, Merlin he hated his life, not that he’d admit that of course, that would mean actually giving a damn and that would never happen or so he promised himself.
He leaned back wondering how long he would still be here. Would he have to go back to his father tonight… or tomorrow? Would his father still stay here and keep him ‘hidden’ in his office or would he be sent to the Manor. The small boy guessed since his father had just started teaching here, and his godfather was working on the antidote, that he’d probably be forced to stay in his father’s office, just as he’d been forced to stay in this one, only without the games of truth-chess.
His head snapped up as there was a knock on the door and then the sound of it opening. The child simply watched as the raven-haired entered the room closing the door behind him.
“You okay Malfoy?”
The blond frowned confused. Had he heard correctly, had there been a slight bit of worry in that one simple question? He couldn’t be sure, since well.. he’d never heard it before… but…
“I’m fine” the boy replied with a shrug of his shoulders. Hell this was nothing to what went on behind the closed doors of the Manor, and so he’d quickly gotten passed it and well he didn’t really give a damn.
He wondered if he’d been right. Was that concern..? and if so… Why? He knew the teen hated him and from what he gathered, with good reason, so then why had he just done what he did. Stupifying what apparently had been his best friend to protect him? Hmm well it didn’t really matter. He’d be gone soon enough and then the three could try and figure out their issues amongst themselves without the blond getting in the middle.
He eyed the teen before him… he was probably having a harder time with all of this then he was.. “what about you?” the small blond asked his eyes meeting the green once. Well.. couldn’t hurt to ask.. right?
He turned and pushed himself from the windowsill he was sitting in and rose to his feet turning to the boy standing near the doorway.
((sorry it is soo short... ))
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 20, 2008 21:09:18 GMT 1
Malfoy frowned at him and he wondered what had been so off about the question to earn that look—his concern, maybe? No, that couldn't be it. Malfoy was already well aware that he was the typical martyr, so it shouldn't have been any sort of surprise.
"I'm fine," answered Malfoy with a slight shrug.
Harry wondered if that was the truth or if Malfoy was always fine, even when things were clearly falling apart around him. He remembered how big of a baby Malfoy turned out to be when he was older and wondered which one was the act. He simply nodded, unable to work up a small smile for the boy and said, "That's good."
Vaguely, he wondered when Snape was going to get there and what he was going to say. No doubt he was going to try taking off some house points for the incident—really, that was a given. He'd probably tell Dumbledore something along the lines of 'I told you so' too, that he had known it was too dangerous for Malfoy to be there and that it was a surprise Harry had stopped Ron from hurting him. Maybe it would be part of their act or some rubbish—or not. Harry wasn't entirely sure Snape would be willing to give them that much credit. For some reason, the idea of Malfoy leaving bothered him a bit. He told himself it was because he was just starting to figure the boy out—and he provided a brilliant distraction, though there was some, small part of his mind betting against that.
Malfoy was right.
He really was the typical martyr.
"What about you?" asked Malfoy, eyeing him. Their eyes met and Harry shrugged, a slight, barely visible smile pulling at one side of his mouth. He watched Malfoy turn and sit up, moving to his feet.
"Better than I should be," he said carefully. And that much was true. He supposed he should be torn up about this, having just hexed his best friend and all that—maybe he had been having better luck at pushing Ron away than he had thought, at least on his end of things. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, really. He could hear Ron cussing from the other room now and he glanced at the door, slightly curious, barely able to make out the sound of the portrait hole opening. Snape's greasey voice rang out over Ron's, bitterly asking if his mother had taught him better manners than that, and then he was asking Dumbledore where Malfoy was. Harry glanced toward the boy in question.
He felt like he should say something—ask Malfoy if he wanted Harry's help or not, if he really was abused, or even if he just wanted to stay there. He had a farely good idea what Malfoy's response would be to all of the above, but he needed to ask something anyway.
"I imagine he's going to want you to leave now," Harry said quietly, expressionless again. "Some rubbish about how you're in too much danger, I'm sure..."
He shrugged.
"I doubt he'll ask what you want. So I'm going to. Do you want to leave, Malfoy?"
Before Malfoy could answer though, even before Harry could get a proper read on his expression, the bedroom door was swinging open and in stalked Snape. He was scowling, clearly annoyed, and his black eyes almost instantly landed on Harry. Harry met them with a cool gaze of his own, barely phased by his anger.
Maybe he was in denial.
"You stupid boy," Snape muttered. It was almost a growl, really. "I suppose I should thank you for protecting my Godson from that hair-brained friend of yours—now out."
Harry glanced at Malfoy again, offering him a slight smile, before turning back to Snape.
"You're welcome," he said with feigned-happiness. "Sir."
Snape scowled at him, eyeing him with anger until the door had safely shut behind him. He turned to Draco, his expression melting almost instantly. He knew Dumbledore had been putting too much faith into these Gryffindors—and yet, that Potter boy had protected him, and he couldn't quite figure out what that meant. Potter had always been the hero type, just begging to be put in the spotlight, so he imagined this case was no different. Oh, how brave Potter would be for standing up to his own friend. Stupid, good for nothing Gryffindors. Just like his father, that one was. He moved forward carefully, still aware that Draco didn't entirely trust him. And why should he? He had been standing by this entire time, practically giving permission to Lucius to beat his son—he sighed, leaning down so that he could properly look into Draco's eyes.
"Are you okay, Draco?"
He surveyed Draco carefully. He'd be much better at telling if he was lying than Potter would be.
"Don't worry," he continued, "you won't be staying here any longer if I've anything to say about it. That bloody Potter... can't even do one thing right."
That last part was mumbled more to himself than to Draco and outside, he could hear voices.
Harry had been careful not to look directly at Ron when he had left the bedroom, very aware of the boy sitting on the couch, glaring daggers at him and the bedroom door. He seemed a bit more in control of himself now, though, and Harry knew that it was only because Dumbledore was near by, sitting in one of the big armchairs, perfectly at ease, as if nothing out of the usual had just happened. Harry almost envied him for that.
"Please do sit down, Harry," said Dumbledore pleasantly enough, not even bothering to look behind him to see if that was who it was. He motioned to the sofa beside Ron and Harry inwardly grimaced, taking his seat carefully. He felt Ron stiffen beside him.
"I was just about to explain to Mr. Weasley here, what happened to make young Draco the way he is—feel free to add in what you need to," he said with a smile. Really, Dumbledore could see the tension between Harry and Ron and felt sorry for the boys—he may be blind, but he was hardly old, and he knew how Harry had been acting over the past month or so. He really wished the boy would be a bit more logical about things. They were his friends and that was the one thing that set Harry apart from Voldemort. Love, ties that bound.
Harry nodded numbly, glancing at Ron out of the corner of his eye. Ron was glaring down at his hands now, his face set in a grimace. He was clearly uncomfortable. He was glad Dumbledore was explaining things, though, glad that he could keep a part of his promise, not that it had done or would do much good at calming Ron down. He looked back at the fire, loosing himself in the bright, flashes of color and the sound of Dumbledore's voice. The story was over before he knew it, and before he had time to figure out Ron's reaction, the bedroom door was opening and out stepped Snape. Alone. Probably keeping Malfoy locked up, in case Ron went beserk again. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Albus," said Snape quietly, "when would you like to move Draco?"
Dumbledore smiled knowingly, moving to his feet so that he could look both at Snape and Harry and Ron.
"Move him where, Severus?"
Snape narrowed his eyes slightly. Oh no, Draco was not staying there.
"To my quarters, of course. Hell, the room of requirement, even. Anywhere but here," he said, sending a dark sneer in Harry and Ron's direction. Ron's anger increased again and Harry almost laughed. Bitter, slimey old man. Had he even asked Malfoy what he wanted?
Harry thought about that for a moment. What if that was what Malfoy wanted? What if Malfoy wanted to leave? Then it would be no skin off of his back, he told himself. He didn't even really know why it mattered. Should't he be glad to get rid of the blond hairball? He had only agreed to do this a couple of days, after all... he sighed, waiting for Dumbledore's response.
"I don't see a reason to move him anywhere, Severus," he said gently, as if calming a small child.
Snape was immediately on edge.
"What? Are you mad Albus? Weasley was about to kill him!"
"And now he's under control. He's a smart boy, he knows to behave himself."
Snape audibly snorted.
"Yeah—right."
Harry was all too aware of Ron shaking beside him, and he almost wanted to reach out and touch his arm, calm him somehow, but he knew the gesture wouldn't be appreciated. So he didn't.
Dumbledore turned to Ron, his blue eyes twinkling.
"Ron," he started gently, tilting his head slightly, "are you going to hurt Draco?"
Ron glared. Oh, he'd very much like to hurt Draco still—and the old man for tricking his fri—no. Harry wasn't his friend. Obviously. He had turned against him. So why did it matter to him what happened? Too angry to see Harry's reason behind his actions, Ron finally shrugged.
"I'm not going to hurt Malfoy," he said finally, his voice low. To Harry, that was one of the last things he wanted to say. "It's none of my business anyway."
Dumbledore smiled at him, turning back to Snape.
"See, Severus? All solved."
Snape gave Dumbledore an incredulous and the battle raged on—Harry looked back to the fire, bored, but listening.
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Post by loekie on Nov 20, 2008 22:55:49 GMT 1
The blond sighed slightly as he now stood before the raven-haired awaiting for the dark-haired to answer as he saw teen deep in thought. He casually leaned against the nearby bed. The boy was trying to figure out where he was thinking about?
Probably about what the hell had happened over the past weeks.. months maybe and how things had all gone even more down-hill a few days ago.
The blond nodded in understanding not missing the slight almost unnoticeable smile that pulled at his mouth. The young boy however had already made peace with all that. He had simply accepted that he’d grow up like his father and that that would mean swearing of all feelings and emotions, that having a conscience then would only make things even harder.
There were voices outside… one cursing.. probably the red-head, then the portrait-hole opened and his godfather’s voice rang through the room. He wondered what he had to say about all this. He sighed deeply as he watched the teen. He’d heard too the blond could tell. What the raven-haired said next though almost made him laugh
“Some rubbish about how you’re in too much danger… I’m sure”
He had almost been strangled and he could only imagine the tirade his godfather was going to get in. It wasn’t really directed at any of the receivers he knew. He knew the greasy haired potion-master was mostly angry with himself for letting it happen, even though the blond knew that there was nothing he could do. His father was a very powerful, influential man and had most of the people that meant anything under his control.
"I doubt he'll ask what you want. So I'm going to. Do you want to leave, Malfoy?"
The blond frowned again still not used to actually being asked what he thought and it took him a while to collect his thoughts and answer.
“I….” he started but then the door swung open and his godfather stormed in ordering the other boy out the door after a bit of banter. With one last scowl the potion-teacher knelt down before him looking him in the eyes. This, to the blond, was unnerving. This guy was probably the one that knew him best. That probably even knew the things he’d never tell.
“Are you okay?”
Draco shrugged casually and nodded “yeah.. I’m fine” he replied.
"Don't worry, you won't be staying here any longer if I've anything to say about it. That bloody Potter... can't even do one thing right."
The blond smirked slightly. Yep that was his godfather alright.
He knew he should say something in the absent boy’s defence, but knew he wouldn’t be able to get a word in edgewise, and there was no way the angry man would listen anyway… he sighed. There was a bit of chit-chat before the man told him to stay in the room and that he’d get him later.
The blond resisted the urge to listen at the door. It wouldn’t help him anyway and so he simply took his seat at the window once more. Soo.. this was it then. He’d now probably be taken to his father, and Merlin only knew how long’s he’d actually survive. He doubted his father would not take kindly to having another 6 year old to look after, if only for about a month. Lucius was not a patient man.
The blond stared outside. He reverted back to watching the students on the grounds, some were roughhousing on the grass, enjoying their last few day of freedom and last bit of summer sunshine. Other were simply laying near the lake reading or talking amongst each-other.
The child remembered one time asking his father if he could go outside and play on the mansion-grounds. He father had been furious and the boy could barely sit for an entire week. From that moment on he had given up on being able to do anything his way and had accepted that his father was not to be disobeyed.
He sighed. really… what had he done to deserve any of this? Had someone known what he would grow like and dealt him this as some sort of punishment in advance? Who knew?
He shook his head angry and frustrated with himself. God, would he ever learn? He just needed to grow up and get the hell over himself. This drowning in self-pity was only going to swallow him hole and cause more trouble then it was worth. He straightened his back and squared his shoulder his eyes hardening. He was NOT going to let this get to him anymore. He was done. His father could just do what he wanted. He was done trying to fight it, done caring, this was it..
He glanced over his shoulder toward the door. They were still talking. Ugh.. ah well.. they’d come get him when they were done.
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 20, 2008 23:55:57 GMT 1
Harry really wasn't entirely sure why Snape kept arguing with Dumbledore—it was clear that the older man wasn't going to back down. He seemed almost amused by Snape's weak attempts at persuassion and Harry wondered why the greasy-haired man didn't just save his breath. He was sickly looking enough, it looked like he needed it. Still, he felt a bit relieved, the certainty ringing through Dumbledore's voice a bit contagious—he half wished he could be as certain as Dumbledore always seemed to be about life in general. About his future—Voldemort—his friends. He looked away from the fire and to the men in front of him, unnerved by the sudden silence. Snape was finally quiet and it caught him off guard—he only then realized that everyone (but Ron) was looking at him. His brow wrinkled.
"Err, what?"
Snape inhaled sharply and Harry could just feel the distaste rolling off of him. Harry shifted a bit where he sat, still clearly uncomfortable, finally realizing that Ron had been scootching further and further away the entire time he had been sitting there. No longer could he feel Ron's body heat and the guilt still hadn't came.
Dumbledore smiled gently.
"Do you want Malfoy to leave, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, their eyes still on him. He felt Ron turn beside him, watching his reaction, no doubt. Harry swallowed. Did he want Malfoy to leave? Not really. Why, though, he had no idea. He sighed, shrugging.
"He can stay here, sir," Harry answered carefully.
Snape locked his jaw, biting out, "He didn't ask for permission, Potter. He asked what you wanted."
He clearly wasn't pleased with what ever turn the conversation had taken in Harry's mental absence. Harry looked back to Dumbledore. This was it, then. Ron would hate him forever. He felt more relieved at that thought then he should.
"No," he said finally, scrunching up his face a bit in thought, looking at the floor. "I guess not... I... I want him to stay."
Dumbledore smiled, pleased. Even though Harry was pushing away Ron and Hermione—and that much was obvious—it looked like someone else was starting to get under his skin. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise, then, that Draco had taken one of Snape's vials. It might be good for both of them if they could form some sort of friendship. Merlin knew Draco needed a friend, despite his complaints to the otherwise. They'd be good for each other, he mused.
Ron, on the other hand, wasn't pleased. At all. Unable to keep back an indignant snort at that, Ron looked back down at his hands, frowning. This was really it then, huh? Harry really was choosing Malfoy over him. Well, fuck him, Ron thought. No one needed him anyway.
And Snape watched the conversation with slight interest, his eyes narrowed dangerously. He still thought Dumbledore was a fool for letting Draco stay there, but there was obviously no point in arguing with the senile old bat. He'd just have to trust him—yeah, right. He'd be watching Potter, that was sure. And this—this whole I want him to stay bit. What the hell was he up to? So help him, if Potter hurt Malfoy—he set his jaw, watching quietly.
"It's settled then," said Dumbledore, a bit of deja vu washing over Harry. "Draco will stay."
Harry nodded, his eyes moving back to the fire. Something didn't quite feel right there. He had already admitted to wanting Malfoy to stay, Merlin knew why, but shouldn't they ask what Malfoy wanted? Maybe he wanted to go with Snape. Merlin knew they'd probabaly get along better. He voiced this outloud.
"Sir.. shouldn't we ask Malfoy what he wants?"
Dumbledore smiled, again pleased. Oh yes, things were working out brilliantly—it was obvious Harry already cared, as much as he didn't want to. He only hoped that wouldn't change when Draco was, well, Draco again, fifteen and arrogant.
"Of course, Harry." He turned to Snape. "Severus, if you will?"
Snape nodded, clearly not pleased, and opened the door to the bedroom, softly calling in, "Draco—a word?"
Harry looked up at the bedroom doorway, waiting for Malfoy to come out.
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Post by loekie on Nov 21, 2008 2:40:32 GMT 1
The boy’s silver/grey eyes scanned the grounds keeping his mind a perfect blank as he heard the soft giggles and shouts from down below that the breeze brought up to the window and the murmurs of voices from the other room. He sighed leaning his head against the wall… why did they have to talk about what would happen to him with him in the other room? Sure, Weasley was probably still there and would kill him on sight.
The blond rolled his eyes. Why was this so hard to figure out? He should just own up, be a man, as his father would say, and just tell them he’d want to back home. The everyone could go about their way and just stay out of his business. His eyes moved over his shoulders again. Sevvie was still arguing with, what he guessed to be the old headmaster. The blond shook his head it would probably be quit funny to watch.
Next, what he assumed to be the raven-haired, said something soon followed by the opening of the bedroom door and the soft voice of his godfather calling his name asking for a word. The small boy frowned looking up turning his head slightly from his position at the window. He frowned “what is it?” he asked as he slowly moved to rise to his feet tilting his head slightly as he fully turned towards his companion. He shrugged as he moved to the door and out into the main room of the prefect quarter and his eyes took in the scene before him. Dumbledore calm and relaxed in an armchair, the two teens on the couch. The raven-haired looked highly uncomfortable and the red-head just looked downright pissed.
The blond sat down on one of the other armchairs and awaited what was about to come. He kept a close eye on the red-head though. He was not going to be surprised again… and if the other boy was going to attack him… he now had his wand and would be able to defend himself,
The boy wracked his brain over what there were going to talk to him about. He guessed they were going to tell him he’d be going back to his father. He was glad though that he’d gotten the day to mentally prepare himself for sucha thing. He looked up at four other men in the room waiting for then to tell them what they had concluded.
Not that he really cared, as he had just promised himself. He was capable of handling his father and whatever he was going to throw at him.
Severus sighed deeply kneeling down in front of the blond “Draco… do you want to stay here for a little longer?” he asked the small child before him.
The boy couldn’t explain the relieve that washed over him. He wasn’t sure whether it was the fact that he had given more time away from his father, or the fact that he might actually like spending here with the other boy. The blond had to admit that the raven-haired had been rather amusing to observe.
But if the latter was the truth… he needed to be careful. If he wasn’t on his guard, it could cause some major trouble and he really didn’t want for this to cause issues when things got back to normal in a couple of weeks.
The boy nodded “yeah.. sure.. I can wipe his but some more at chess” he joked lightly leaning back in his seat determined NOT to show any of the uneasiness he was feeling with all these people around. He wondered what the raven-haired had told them that they were all looking at him like that and well.. asked him what he thought.
The child caught a glimpse of the clock noticing it had gotten rather late.
Dumbledore smiled “then we’ll just leave the arrangements the way they are until further notice” he said happily his blue eyes twinkling “we should head down to the great-hall for diner and I’ll sent Dobey up with some food for the two of you” he suggested.
Severus grumbled something under his breath that sounded very much like ‘I’ll be keeping an eye on you Potter’ and then the three left.
The blond shook his head “what a drama” he smirked.
Soon the elf appeared with some food and the blond forced some down his throat. Once again he wasn’t really hungry. The rest of the night was spent in an oddly comfortable silence and a while after diner the blond rose to his feet. He wanted to go change into his pyjama’s.
He took of his shirt but wasn’t really paying any attention. The day had been so strange and he was still mulling everything over in his head. So the boy hadn’t noticed that the cover-spell that usually covered up the scars his father’s wraths had left, was starting to fade….
He put on the trousers stifling a yawn. It had a looong inventive day and he would probably just curl up on the couch with one of the girl’s books. --------
((sorry again.. it’s not that long.. if I moved to fast… please let me know and I’ll change it…))
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 21, 2008 9:34:09 GMT 1
It took a moment, but soon Malfoy was edging his way into the room—Snape took his place beside Dumbledore again, who was now sitting down, watching Malfoy with interest, his eyes ocassionally darting to Ron, as if he expected him to attack at any given minute. Which he almost did. Weasley wasn't the brightest bulb in the pack and Snape was half tempted to keep Malfoy closer to him, but knew the boy wouldn't appreciate the action. Harry's eyes moved to Malfoy, who was careful to keep his eyes to himself, though ocassionally he glanced at Ron, too, no doubt waiting for the same thing as Snape. Ron kept his eyes on the floor, and Harry offered Malfoy a small smile.
Snape moved forward, kneeling down in front of him, looking him in the eye.
Malfoy looked tense—or maybe that was Harry's imagination, because if he thought twice about it, Malfoy looked as he always did.
"Draco... do you want to stay here for a little longer?"
A single moment passed before Malfoy said, "Yeah... sure... I can wipe his butt some more at chess."
Harry smiled a bit more, unable to explain the relief that washed over him at that—for some reason, he didn't like the thought of Malfoy being alone with Snape, or worse, Lucius. It was quite silly, really. They weren't friends or anything, and Lucius was his father. He couldn't keep him away forever—besides, he'd be fifteen again in a while, and then things would be back to normal.
Ron felt something stab at his heart, his anger swelling. Harry wouldn't play chess with him since second year—but he was playing with Malfoy? He kept his eyes on the ground, trying to dismiss the disappointment that accompanied his anger.
"That's if I agree to play with you again," Harry said lightly, almost teasing, eyeing Malfoy carefully.
Dumbledore smiled.
"Then we'll just leave the arrangements the way they are until further notice. We should head down to the Great Hall for dinner, and I'll send Dobby up with some food for the two of you."
Harry glanced at the clock. Was it really that late? Things had been so hectic—he hadn't even noticed the time flying by. He glanced at Dumbledore and then Ron again, who moved to his feet without a word or glance, following behind Snape slowly—Harry licked his lips. The guilt still hadn't came. He wondered when it would, or if it didn't, if he'd ever get used its absence. He was vaguely aware of Snape mumbling something under his breath, but he was too distracted to hear what he was saying. Probably a death thread anyway. Luckily they had gotten away with their house points intact—Harry gave Ron's back a curious look. Wait. How had he gotten in there? Before he could mention something to Dumbledore though, they were gone, and Harry hoped Dumbledore would bring the issue up by himself. Still, he'd have to talk to Hermione about changing the password when she got back. He didn't want to risk another incident.
He looked back to Malfoy, trying to think of something to say to make light of the situation, but Malfoy didn't look too interested in conversation and, quite honestly, Harry was at a loss for words.
Thankfully Dobby appeared shortly after the others left, sparing them from awkward conversation and offering them food. He inquired about Malfoy's well-being again, but was otherwise content with the fact that he was in one piece. Harry wondered what he had thought earlier, when he had seen Ron laying there on the floor. He didn't bother asking, though, and fixed himself a plate, his stomach cramping in objection. He ignored its objections and was able to force down a couple of small bites for appearance sake, but otherwise played with his food, a bit relieved Malfoy wasn't a chatter box. It was nice, being left with his own thoughts. And incredibly dangerous, as his own thoughts were proving to be increasingly destructive.
Their meal was over before Harry knew it and Malfoy headed toward the bedroom without a word. Harry lingered in the common room for a few minutes, giving Malfoy time to change or collect himself—and then headed in the bedroom himself. Might as well get his Defense Against the Dark Arts book out and do something productive to distract himself while waiting for Hermione to return—he really didn't look forward to a conversation, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get any sleep that night without changing the password to the portrait, which he needed Hermione's consent to do. Not that it mattered. He wouldn't get any sleep anyway, he was sure. Knocking once before opening the door, Harry glanced up, his eyes automatically catching on Malfoy.
He hesitated, the additional light spilling in from the common room catching on Malfoy's pale skin, highlighting his scars—scars that littered a good portion of his chest, arms and, Harry imagined, his back.
He said the first thing that came to mind, all tact lost in the surprise of things.
"What the hell happened to you?"
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Post by loekie on Nov 21, 2008 11:22:04 GMT 1
The blond was glad the other boy did try and strike up a conversation. He stood in the room about to put on his pyjama-shirt so deep in thought that he hadn’t heard the other heading to the room until there was a knock the however he heard the most unexpected thing.
“What the hell happened to you?”
The blond whirled around looking down at himself. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, how could he have been so stupid? How could he not have noticed? He quickly took his wand renewing the cover spell. What was he going to say? The blondes mind raced. He had to come up with something…. Anything. He sighed taking a deep breath before meeting the other’s surprised eyes rapidly putting his shirt on.
He forced himself to remain calm and shrugged nonchalantly “I… I’m clumsy” he replied quickly but cringed inwardly. Even he knew that answer was lame but what else was he going to say? He could see the other boy didn’t really believe it and the blond sighed. He couldn’t tell the truth.. could he? He sighed… could he really escape explaining? Maybe the other boy would simply let it go? One look at the raven-haired though, gave him the answer.
He lowered his gaze for a second inwardly cursing his own weakness and stupidity. How on earth could he have forgotten? Normally he’d get beaten almost daily and so the spell would be renewed anyway. Right now he had not been getting hurt and apparently it had just completely slipped his mind.
He wondered if the raven-haired would get further into it or just keep quiet. He thought about what it would mean if he’d actually tell him… Would it make it easier for him if someone was finally into the secret that he could talk to? Who knew… but he also realized that wasn’t fair to the other boy since apparently he was going to be a downright son of a b*tch to him and his friends later.
He ran a hand through his blond hair brushing out of his eyes that he kept as blank as possible. He couldn’t risk showing anything now. Who knew what the teen would do when he’d spot the tiniest sign of weakness. He let his silvery eyes linger on the other boy’s emerald ones trying to figure him out… trying to see what he was thinking… Ugh.. why couldn’t things just go how he wanted. Couldn’t things just be simple for once, without unpleasant surprises? -------------------------
((sooo sorry this is sooo unbelievably short… but I have to leave soon and I just figured I’d let Draco give once last shot at denying the whole damn thing… lol….))
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