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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 21, 2008 15:20:23 GMT 1
He watched, dazed, as Malfoy whirled around, instantly taking stock of himself and Harry wondered how he had never noticed before. The scars littered his arms, almost glittered in the light—was he really that blind? And then Malfoy had his wand out and Harry tensed, unable to react properly, but it didn't matter as he the spell he said washed over himself, not Harry. His scars were gone almost instantly, leaving Harry to wonder if he had imagined them. That was how, then.
Harry's mind was reeling—once again, his thoughts were a blur of movement, images and thoughts Harry knew but was unable to focus on right then. He remembered his thoughts earlier, how he felt when he first realized something bad happened to Malfoy to make him the way he was. He had felt curious, but detattched—at the time, he thought it was because this was Malfoy he was talking about and they had never gotten along anyway—so why would it matter what happened to him? Now, though, he realized it had been because he wasn't quite able to associate the thought with Malfoy. Not completely. The thought 'Draco Malfoy may have gotten abused' never entered his mind. That was too clear. Before, his thoughts had been vague. Looking at Malfoy now though, even with what ever charm he used back in place, his thoughts were anything but vague.
And he felt anger, disgust and pity—but worse yet, he felt curiousity.
He smoothed his expression, though the slight wrinkle between his eyes remained and he was unable to completely remove the frown from his face. Well, it wasn't really a frown—more of a grimance, actually. He swallowed, hesitantly and slowly moving closer.
"I'm... I'm clumsy," said Malfoy, sounding a bit guilty. Maybe it was how quickly he put his shirt on that gave him away. Or maybe Harry wasn't a complete dumb arse.
The corner of his mouth twitched.
Malfoy was so ready to lay down and take it—lie for that... man, it made Harry's anger bubble. He kept it under careful control though. He remembered the things that happened through his childhood—his hair magically growing back, finding himself on the school's roof top—he had looked back at these things shortly after he had discovered he was a Wizard and something knew had accompanied the memories. A very good, tingling sensation, entertwined with his anger; the feeling of utter and complete release, of letting it out in the only way he could. He felt that tingling now, now that he was familar with it—he could feel his magic want to touch his anger, weave into and through it and though it was oh so tempting, Harry fought to keep them separate. There was no threat here.
This was a learned behavior, he was sure; Malfoy's lying, his cover story. What other coping method would a six year old develop?
"No you're not," he said gently, stopping when he was only a few milimeters away.
He inhaled deeply, his eyes meeting Malfoy's cold ones, and he fought to smooth expression even more. He could tell Malfoy didn't want pity—he could see it in his eyes, and naturally, his own compensated.
"Malfoy—Draco, who did this to you?"
The name burned in his mouth, unfamilar, but considering the situation, he thought it more appropriate.
Malfoy hesitated, clearly not ready to give up his cover story yet. He tried imagining how it would feel, but of course he couldn't. He had been abused too, by his aunt and uncle (mostly his uncle) but never physically. Well, not really anyway. There had been a few times his uncle's anger had gotten the better of him, but his uncle had been well aware of the fact it was wrong, and had avoided him like the plague for days after the incident. Harry had known it was wrong, too, but Malfoy of course didn't. It had been all he had grown up with and now it probably felt as if the floor was being taken out from underneath him, dizzying and disorienting, and Harry had no idea how that felt. Not in this context, anyway.
Harry prodded him a bit more, his voice gentle.
"Was it—" he hesitated, licking his lips. The anger burned. "Was it Lucius?"
((Hah. It's okay, love. I like it.. people suffering from abuse wouldn't let it out that quickly anyway. Not usually... especially if it's a learned behavior.
-shrug- -points at sign that blinks PSYCH MAJOR- -snorts-))
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Post by loekie on Nov 21, 2008 21:47:25 GMT 1
The blond sighed… this was bad. He could sense the other boy’s anger and wasn’t sure how to handle it. What had he done to the raven-haired to make him angry? The blond didn’t realize yet that the anger wasn’t directed at him. He sighed fighting hard to keep his feeling in check. The teen was staring at him.. probably trying to make sense of it all He hoped beyond hope that the boy would simply take the story. Soon his hopes would be shattered though when the boy spoke again
“No you’re not”
The blondes eyes flew up and met the green-ones. Damn… he really should have paid more attention. Where had his mind been? He grumbled inwardly. When he looked up again there was something unfamiliar… yet so extremely unwanted. Pity. That was the last thing he needed. He clenched his jaw this was going to be even harder then he thought.
“Malfoy..., Draco, who did this to you?”
The small boy eyes hardened. What the hell was his problem. He needed to think of something… and quickly. Why was he finding this so hard? Normally the lies and deceits just rolled of his tongue… and yet tonight. Maybe he was just tired…
The boy refused to answer yet though but for some reason the other boy would not let it go.
“Was it…” –slight hesitation- “was it… Lucius?”
“No…” the blond quickly replied shaking his head vigorously. Oh d*mn this was once again such a lame reply. He groaned inwardly… what was he going to do now? The teen seemed to already know and made his mind up. Was it really of any use to lie? He would not escape trouble anyway. He looked up once again meeting the other gaze “just.. forget you saw anything…” he almost pleaded and cringed inwardly. Had that really been his voice he just heard.
Crap crap crap. This was getting more and more complicated by the second and the young child really was just at a loss for what to do. He hated that feeling. The feeling of being overwhelmed.. surprised. At least with his father, he knew where he stood. He’d get punished one way or the other and he had grown to depend on the certainty.
This raven-haired. However was unpredictable and he never knew quit what would happen next and it frightened the child a bit.
The child stared at the floor… this was going to be hell. He really didn’t want to talk about his father and what he did to him…. ----------------
((thanks hun... you're too kind.. this one is short as well... but I promise to bring them back up .... I know.. it took a friend om mine a while to confide in me, even if she'd been out of that situation for a few years.... lol...
-smirks...- go you -smiles-
hope my post's alright... sorry it's so short again))
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 21, 2008 22:50:59 GMT 1
"No," Malfoy replied, shaking his head. Malfoy was a little too quick for his liking. He didn't meet his eyes when he said it either, something that only contradicted what he said. Harry sighed. Why wouldn't he trust him? Of course that was a stupid question. A more logical one, he supposed, would be why would Malfoy trust him? Instead of moving forward again and kneeling down in front of Malfoy like he wanted to, Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot. It wasn't because he was uncomfortable, like before, but because he wasn't quite sure what to do. He definitely wasn't going to drop it so quickly, though. Malfoy finally looked up, meeting his gaze.
"Just.. forget you saw anything.." he said, almost pleading.
Harry frowned.
"I can't do that," he said honestly. He knew he needed to make Malfoy more comfortable, but he didn't know how. He followed Malfoy's eyes to the floor for a moment, only to flick up and look at the boy's face again. He tapped his forehead, fighting to keep his voice lighter than it was. "Typical Martyr, remember?"
He hoped Malfoy would talk soon—his anger was building and it was getting harder for him to control it. He locked his jaw, swallowing hard, and moved slowly across the room, sitting on the edge of his own bed, his eyes never once leaving Malfoy. A million questions whirled through his head—had this been going on his entire life? When had it started? Was it really Lucius? How come he didn't defend himself, when he was older? Why didn't he tell anyone? What about Narcissa?—Malfoy, however, didn't look like he was in the mood to answer any of them. But he was going to sooner or later, even if it meant Harry had to wait for a while. He twisted his duvet between his fingers, squeezing it, letting out his anger in a safe way. His eyes moved back to Malfoy.
"No one's going to hurt you here," he said gently, more expressionless than he had been before.
And that was the truth.
Harry hoped Malfoy could hear that, that he believed it—Harry wouldn't let anyone hurt him there.
He wouldn't hurt him.
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Post by loekie on Nov 22, 2008 0:00:25 GMT 1
The blond watched as the blond was just standing in the middle of the room telling him he couldn’t do what he asked.
“Typical martyr, remember”
This actually almost made the blond smile as he saw the boy trying to control his anger. He sighed as he contemplated his next move. It didn’t seem like the boy was going to drop this and maybe he should just tell the boy. What did it matter now anyway?
The teen moved to his bed and sat on the edge. He sighed slightly taking a deep breath as the boy kept his eyes on him playing with his duvet. He moved to his own bed and sat down as the other boy finished with a
“No-one is going to hurt you here”
The blond smirked slightly. He still wasn’t sure if he could trust the boy. But even if the teen wanted to protect him… if his father would come down here, there would be nothing the raven-haired could do.
The blond lowed his gaze to the floor again bowing his head slightly “I just… I can’t do anything right, so he needs to punish me” he finally conceded. He truly believed that his father was doing this for his own good. He’d been so indoctrinated with his father’s ways, so used to them that it was hard to see the truth about his father’s motives. Besides it was easier for the boy to believe that his father was doing this for his own good, that would mean that he at least cared for him, then that it was just for his father’s own sake and he just didn’t give a rats ass.
The boy sighed shrugging “it’s just what needs to be done” he added carelessly and he felt oddly at ease. He had finally accepted that it was just the way it was and that there was nothing he could do about it. He sighed as he looked back up at the other boy running a hand through his longish blond hair.
The youngster was glad that his voice had found his normal tone and he was slightly confused at how little he really felt anymore.
The words had come out a lot easier then he had ever imagined but now came to hard part. How would he cope with someone being in on his little secret. How would he really feel not that one of supposed enemy had this kind of leverage on him?
The 15 year old version of course would have been horrified. He would have done anything to keep the truth from getting out, but the small child skills at twisting the truth, keeping his cool and coming up with a lie on the spots had not yet been fully developed yet and well… the teen had seen his scars and it really didn’t leave much more to be filled in.
The blond boy now stared back at the floor his head bowed again.
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 22, 2008 0:44:37 GMT 1
Malfoy moved forward as well, sitting on his own bed across from Harry. He looked at the floor again, lowering his head, and Harry wondered if he believed him.
"I just.. I can't do anything right, so he needs to punish me."
Harry visibly blanched.
Is that really what Malfoy thought?
Oh, wait, of course it was.
It was his father after all—surely he could do no wrong. Harry frowned again, thinking of Lucius hitting Malfoy like that or worse—it had to be a lot worse for those scars to look how they did. He quickly tried dismissing the ghost of a mental image that accompanied it, his anger pounding against his heart and ribs to let it out. He focused instead on this Malfoy, the one sitting before him, small and picture-perfect again, scar free.
His anger quieted.
"I doubt that's the case," Harry said carefully, keeping his voice soft.
Malfoy sighed, shrugging.
"It's just what needs to be done."
The acceptance in his voice bothered Harry—he set his jaw, inhaling sharply, and audibly snorted.
"Hardly. Normal parents ground their children—stop them from doing something by taking something else way, like dessert. They don't—" he paused, motioning to Malfoy with a slight wave of his hand. His disgust was obvious in his tone, no matter how he tried keeping it out. "They don't beat them."
His anger tried escaping again as the words left his mouth and then it was too late.
All of a sudden, his anger erupted. He saw red, so to say.
Pleasure surged through his veins, his skin tickling and tingling, and Harry let out a sudden, strangled laugh.
Beside him, a pillow exploded, showering the room with pieces of fluff and feather—and across the room, a picture frame lifted itself up and slammed against the wall. The glass shattered, the entire thing dropping to the floor with a loud clang.
Oh nuts.
Covering his mouth with his hand, Harry looked at Malfoy with wide eyes, taking in his expression, and quickly fought to keep his magic under control.
It wasn't easy.
Harry grimaced, and an arm automatically curled around his abdomen, as if he were holding himself together. His vision blurred a bit and the tingling sensation disappeared, replaced by pain—his scar burned and throbbed, its throbbing proving to be contagious. It felt as if there were fire near his head, not consuming it, but licking at it, touching and biting at his skin. He inhaled deeply—once, twice—and the anger was under control again. For how long though, he wasn't sure. He wondered why it had hurt so much—he didn't remember the pain. Maybe because he had never tried keeping it under wraps? Not like that, anyway. There had been one or two incidents at Grimmauld Palace or in the Gryffindor tower where he had felt it building up—but he hadn't tried keeping it under control for so long. Instead, he had left and let it have its way. Apparently, it didn't like being reeled in again once it was out. He sighed and looking up at Malfoy, he managed a small smile.
"Guess you know one of my secrets now, too," he said quietly, the throbbing in his head dissipating a bit.
He swallowed. He wanted to keep talking—he wanted to ask his questions now, while Malfoy was willing to answer, but he didn't know how much longer he could last. The smartest thing would be to leave, maybe lock himself in the bathroom and let his magic let loose, break a few mirrors or something. Okay, maybe not mirrors—that would be just his luck, that superstitions held true in the Wizarding World.
The corner of his mouth twitched as he took in Malfoy's appearance—feathers littered his hair, and Harry was sure he was quite the sight, too. Automatically, he reached up and brushed the fluff out of his own hair, motioning for Malfoy to do the same with a soft, "You've got a little something—well, okay, you've got a lot of something in your hair..."
He set his jaw again, his smile disappearing as the throbbing started back up.
"Sorry," he mumbled, glancing down at the floor.
It was quickly back under control, the throbbing becoming dull again.
Clearing his throat, he slowly looked up.
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Post by loekie on Nov 22, 2008 2:11:04 GMT 1
The blond kept his gaze to the floor. Again debating with himself. He should have just kept his big mouth shut.
"I doubt that's the case,"
This was gentle and the blond looked up slightly. What did he know? He had spilled that tea, he wasn’t good enough… his father only did it to help him… he thought bitterly Right?
“Hardly. Normal parents ground their children—stop them from doing something by taking something else way, like dessert. They don't—" there was a hesitation "They don't beat them."
There was disgust in the teens voice and the young boy honestly wasn’t sure what to make of this. He wasn’t supposed to leave his room without permission anyway… wasn’t that what grounding entailed? And for the rest… there was nothing he had that he would really mind having taken away, so his father was forced to resort to beatings … right? Ugh now his head was starting to hurt.
The child looked at the raven-haired something was of “are you alri…” he asked but was cut of by feathers that now littered the room as a pillow exploded and across the room there was a loud bang and the shattering of glass. The boy almost jumped out of his skin, startled and afraid.
Apparently this boy was very very angry and the blond did not have the best experiences when it came down to dealing with pissed of people. He however forced himself to simply stay foot and raised an inquisitive eyebrow as calm as he always seemed.
The teen covered his mouth seemingly just as surprised at what just happened. Immediately he could see the boy fight to get it under control… Hmm.. so the raven-haired did know what had happened then. The small boy simply waited for the other one to regain his control and composure.
“Guess you know one of my secrets now too”
The child shrugged “I guess so” he smiled shaking his head “nice work” he smirked looking at the mess around the room shaking his head and saw the ‘golden boy’ brush his hair that was littered with white fluff. He indicated that the blond should follow his example.
The boy frowned but did as he was told and ran his hand through his hair getting all the feathers and whit stuff out of his hair and then an apology was muttered and the youngster shrugged “no problem” the blond said “I just love what you’ve done with the place” he smirked lightly
The blond was glad for the little distraction that kept the subject of off him and he was making light of the situation. Blowing it all up out of proportion wouldn’t do anybody any good.
The teen now cleared his throat and looked up from the floor he had been so carefully inspecting. The blond met his eyes. He didn’t care about what happened. Hell it had just been a pillow and picture-frame for Merlin-sakes. With a wave of his wand he cleaned up the mess in the small room and he then remain silent, deep in thought.
What was going to happen? Was the other boy going to tell others? Dumbledore? Snape? He couldn’t have that and so he met the green eyes once again
“Don’t tell anyone” his voice broke the silence as little more the a soft plea. God-d**ned… he hated how weak his voice sounded. That was another point that needed to be improved. He just hoped he’d get the other to agree and keep his mouth shut. He could handle it himself and really didn’t need anyone else in on the secret as well.
Then he reverted back to his silent thoughts. He shook himself out of it just in time however ‘pull yourself together man’ he thought to himself as he now looked back up to the raven-haired again
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 22, 2008 7:42:17 GMT 1
Malfoy did something and the mess magically cleaned itself—Harry couldn't help but be a bit envious of his control. He was sure growing up with magic helped Malfoy though—and this act he always played, he was sure that helped him to. Malfoy always seemed to have his emotions in check. It was a bit annoying, really. Here was this six-year-old sitting across from him, acting more like a fifteen-year-old teenager than his fifteen year old self actually was. Harry remembered when he first happened upon Malfoy, how he thought it was some sort of trick—but Dumbledore had believed him, so naturally Harry had to. A part of him was unsure if he should have followed so easily, but that part was quickly dismissed.
Their banter continued for a moment, and then, with Harry's eyes meeting Malfoy, the conversation shifted to more serious topics again. Malfoy didn't seem so pleased about that.
"Don't tell anyone," Malfoy said, his tone as pleading as before.
Harry's forehead wrinkled.
He couldn't promise that—he shouldn't. Malfoy was being hurt, and even though this was Malfoy, it wasn't right. No one deserved to be hurt like that, especially by their own father. A father should be someone to protect and guide you, right? At the same time—yes, this was Malfoy. A six-year-old Malfoy. Years of abuse had already passed and there really wasn't much Harry could do about that. This boy sitting in front of him—he was just a shadow of what was. It was too late... or was it? Was Lucius still abusing Malfoy, nine years from now? Snape said something about dreamless sleep potions once—was that why Malfoy needed them? He remembered the other night, when he thought Malfoy had awoken... he sighed.
He couldn't promise not to tell anyone, but at the same time, it wasn't his secret to tell.
Finally, Harry settled with, "I won't tell anyone... yet. I know it's hard to understand, Draco, but he shouldn't hit you—or, what ever it is he does. It's not normal and it's not right... and it's definitely not your fault."
He hesitated. He knew nothing he said mattered—and yet, he needed to keep talking. He needed to be able to say, at the end of the day, that he had tried, against all odds. He knew he couldn't say anything that would make Malfoy see the error of his father's ways in a blinding flash of light like the movies—but if Malfoy would only stop and think. Malfoy had always been that annoyingly persistant clever boy—a downright arse, but clever nonetheless. His grades rivaled Hermione's. So why wouldn't he think?
His eyes searched Malfoy's face and he sighed, looking away. He was angry again, but not only at Lucius. He was angry at himself. At the fact that he couldn't help. And at the fact that Dumbledore and Snape hadn't—he remembered the bits of conversation he had caught the other night—well, yesterday, actually. Where had the time gone? Snape had sounded worried—something about how he should have seen and Dumbledore—he swallowed. He had the feeling that it hadn't been the first conversation the two men had had like that.
Apparently, that blasted conscience decided to make its appearance again.
"I can't say anything to stop this—and even if I did, it would be pointless," he continued finally, glancing at Malfoy again. But I can't promise you I won't try. "Just—think about things. Question them."
He offered Malfoy the slight smile he could manage.
((I like how you had Malfoy clean up the mess for Harry—but at the same time, love, to be honest, I think you need to remember you're playing a six year old. Malfoy is obviously smart, even now (when he's six) but I don't quite think he's that smart. Not yet anyway. I can see him doing it with a spell, but not with wandless magic...
Which is why I was a bit vague with the beginning of my post.
-shrug-
Sorry.
Otherwise, I liked the post.))
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Post by loekie on Nov 22, 2008 10:09:53 GMT 1
The blond looked up when the raven-haired spoke.
Finally, Harry settled with, "I won't tell anyone... yet. I know it's hard to understand, Draco, but he shouldn't hit you—or, what ever it is he does. It's not normal and it's not right... and it's definitely not your fault."
The boy caught the other’s eyes. Did he really mean it? he had always just simply assumed it was his fault.. since… well his father had always found reasons to punish him… he had always simply accepted it .. but.. when the green eyes searched his he was glad when they quickly moved away again and the blond looked back at the floor.
“ But I always do things wrong…” he defended his father for Merlin only knew what reason. When the teen looked away the blond could sense the anger rising again and he wondered if any other things might get broken tonight. Probably not as he spoke again
"I can't say anything to stop this—and even if I did, it would be pointless, just—think about things. Question them."
The boy sighed “question them?” he smirked “and then what? I do want to survive.” He knew what would happen if he started ‘questioning things’ his father surely wouldn’t be pleased “besides, it doesn’t pay to question things you cannot change, only thing you can do is simply accepting the way things are.”
This was a lesson he’d learned not too long ago. There was nothing to be questioned, his father was there and he’d just do what he always did. Whether be it his fault or not, his father didn’t care and so neither could the boy.
He sighed staring at the floor again. What was he to do? He could now tell the teen really wanted to help.. but he didn’t know whether a) he actually could, or b) whether he was ready to accept needing help. He’d always dealt with everything alone and to now suddenly have someone else in on it, some-one that was actually willing to help. He sighed… must be that damn Malfoy pride his father had taught him all about.
“You shouldn’t be getting involved with all this” the boy said softly. It wasn’t the raven-haired’s fight, and the teen had enough to deal with without his whiny little sobstory. He watched the other boy and returned the slight smile he’d been offered. Strange how tings could change so quickly… one little thing could sent everything spiralling out of control.
((sorry again for the shortness, but I’m already late for the train I need to catch.. lol…
I know… -shrugs- Wasn’t wandless magic hun, “With a wave of his wand” (I simply forgot to mention the muttering of a spell.. *looks down ashamed* Sorry…
loved your post Hope to see ya tonight!))
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 22, 2008 22:21:15 GMT 1
Harry felt his anger rise again, listening to Malfoy defend his father. He knew he shouldn't be so quick to judge—he knew Malfoy didn't know better and he understood that, at least vaguely, but anger was a hard thing to control. The rational side of him knew he was too late to do or say anything that would matter, and the irrational side of him wanted to try—or worse yet, give Lucius a taste of his own medicine.
"Question them?" smirked the boy, "And then what? I do want to survive. Besides, it doesn't pay to question things you cannot change, only thing you can do is simply accept the way things are."
He wished there was something else he could say—something that would make Malfoy see the truth in a blinding flash of light, like the movies, and though moments ago he had accepted there wasn't, his irrational side was almost weighing that out. He guessed he could see Malfoy's point. It was probably pointless for a six-year-old to question what their father was doing to them, because even if they did, they had no way to defend themselves. Soon though, Malfoy would be fifteen again, and a fifteen year old had a better defense—especially this one. Why did things have to be so complicated? Harry must really have issues, because a very large part of him wanted to promise he would protect Malfoy, stop it from ever happening again, but he knew he couldn't.
He smiled sadly.
"If that were true, Draco, imagine where we'd be now," he reasoned, shrugging. "Imagine where the Wizarding World would be now if someone hadn't questioned things—hadn't fought against something they knew was wrong."
"I'm not telling you to fight. Especially not now. You're six—" he hesitated, trying to find the words, "but you won't be for long. Remember, you're fifteen here. You survive... and it's never too late to try."
He shrugged again, a sound from the other room catching his attention. He straightened a bit, his anger pushing out against his ribs—but instead of breaking through, it remained there, protecting him if need be. That sensation only lasted for a moment, though, and Harry felt his control waver as it started fighting him again. He swallowed hard, listening as Hermione said his name. He felt relieved. He looked back to Malfoy.
"I won't tell her," he said quietly, "not now—but I do need to go talk to her."
He moved to his feet, hesitant to leave Malfoy to his own thoughts. When he came back, would this Malfoy still be as open as he was being right then? Or would his defenses be back in place, and would Harry be powerless to reach him? Hermione called his name again and his eyes moved to the door for a moment before switching back to Malfoy. He supposed that was a risk he was going to have to take. Besides, he should probably cool off a bit anyway. His anger hurt.
"I'll be back in a bit," he promised, looking at Malfoy for a moment longer before moving toward the door. He shut it quietly behind him, a bit surprised when Hermione launched herself at him, her arms around his neck. He stumbled a bit under the sudden weight.
"Oh Harry!" she said, pulling back a bit to look at him properly. She looked as if she wanted to cry. Harry really hoped she wouldn't—he wasn't good with crying. "I just heard about Ron—I—" she pulled herself toward him again, stopping and burying her face in the crook of his neck. He sighed, awkwardly patting her on the back. Her shoulders shook a bit.
Great. Could this day just get better?
((Okay love, sorry... I misunderstood you, then. -shrug- Sorry. -pets- -heh- I won't be on a lot tonight, just so you know. I work third shift again, so I'll probably try sleeping before work. I'unno though. Depends how tired I am.))
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Post by loekie on Nov 23, 2008 1:05:47 GMT 1
The blond sighed what was he going to do? He was just at a loss and his mind still was all over the place.
“If that were true, Draco, imagine where we'd be now," the raven-haired tried to reason with a shrug of . "Imagine where the Wizarding World would be now if someone hadn't questioned things—hadn't fought against something they knew was wrong."
The boy shrugged his shoulders as well. Sure there was some truth to this. There was. But did those other people that questioned the wrong things have his father to content with? Were their stakes really as high as his? For some reason the blond doubted it.
Apparently thought the teen wasn’t finished
"I'm not telling you to fight. Especially not now. You're six—" a slight hessitation, "but you won't be for long. Remember, you're fifteen here. You survive... and it's never too late to try."
He looked up. That was true… he wasn’t 6 years old was he? But even if he was fifteen again. Was this boy really expecting him to fight his father? He sighed… fool.. The teen had no idea of what Lucius was really capable of and he would never been able to even muster the courage to go against Malfoy Senior… let alone actually fight him, or so the boy thought.
Then there was another noise from the other room and the other boy was fighting his anger yet again. He should really learn to keep that in check… there was a voice called the teens name and the boy frowned as he recognised the voice as the one of the girl that shared the quarters.
He was relieved when he promised not to talk to her and simply nodded. He didn’t really mind the alone time he’d been handed. The raven-haired left the room and the blond sighed deeply keeping his eyes to the floor. He leant back on the bed forcing himself to keep his mind blank. He needed to pull himself together, needed to regroup and find another way of handling things…
He then remembered the men that would come visit him from time to time and an idea formed in his head. They really seemed to love what he did to them.. and maybe this would be able to get him a promise from the other boy. The promise to just keep his mouth shut. He smiled slightly a small hint of a plan forming in his small brain. There wasn’t anything definite yet… but as young as he was, he knew his way around a body and he’d have to prove that once again to get what he wanted.
Her heard voices from the other room and he wondered if she was still angry with the teen. He might have to go talk to her later. Tell her a few things he’d learned during their day together. She would be able to help the other boy, he was sure of it and he just hoped she would be able to get through to him. He stared at the door awaiting for the boy to return. ----------------------
“You still haven’t found him Severus?” the blond man asked pacing around the potion-masters office.
Snape sat in one of his armchairs as relaxed and poised as ever. He shook his head “I’ve already told you Lucius, we are searching for him. I explained what happened. He is most likely turned into a little kid after he took one of my experimental potions” he replied “he probably just got frightened and ran and hid, but we will find him” he tried to reassure. Lucius had asked them whether they had seen Draco and he and Dumbledore had decided that telling the blond man a little bit of the truth was probably best in the long run.
The had told him that Snape had been missing an unfinished experimental potion, that in it’s current state would make the user about 10 years younger. They told him that that was probably what had happened and that he just probably ran away and hid somewhere and that they were searching.
“My son isn’t afraid of anything” Lucius disagreed. He had made sure of that that blond smirked inwardly. He knew however that he shouldn’t push the matter to hard. They seemed to be on top of it and he had no reasons to doubt Severus.
The potion-masters exterior betrayed nothing of the anger he felt inside. Of course Draco wasn’t afraid of anything… except his own father. He had to fight every fibre in his being not to just outright kill the blond. He simply could not believe someone could do such a thing to a small child. The greasy-haired man now looked to his ‘friend’
“We will find him Lucius… don’t worry” he assured again the words burning like acid in his mouth. Worry? As if. He just whished there was something more he could do. The professor really hated feeling as helpless and truly useless.
Lucius cold eyes met the other man’s hard ones and he nodded “I’m sure you will Severus, and when you find him…” he started.
“I’ll let you know as soon as possible” the other finished forcing an assuring smile.
The blond nodded satisfied and after a bit more polite chit-chat about one thing or another the ‘worried father’ left the office.
Snape watched him leave and sighed. What was he going to do? It wouldn’t be too long now before Lucius would demand results and they couldn’t keep up the act much longer. He just hoped his god-son was going to be strong enough to make it through…
Sure he knew Draco was strong… but he knew he probably did not yet have a clear understanding of the sheer extend of what was going on and he really didn’t know how he’d be able to live through this again…
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 23, 2008 15:01:35 GMT 1
Hermione wasn't entirely sure why she felt like crying—but her eyes burned nonetheless, despite her desire to stop them from doing so. A mixture of emotions swirled around in her head—anger, curiousity, relief—and when she spotted Harry, they suddenly wanted to come pouring out. She inhaled deeply, taking a shakey breath, and hugged Harry a bit closer to her. She could feel how uncomfortable he was, how he tensed and leaned away from her, despite the gentle hand on her back, and that only made her want to cry more. Why couldn't he see? She was his friend. She was always going to be there, no matter what. Taking another shakey breath, swallowing hard, Hermione pulled back, a bit more collected and proud that she had managed to keep her tears to herself.
"Sorry," she mumbled, finally letting go of him. She could see the relief flash across his face before he could hide it, and that made the burn return. She sighed, looking down at the floor.
Harry shrugged, trying to play the whole thing off as in indifferently as he could, but it was a bit hard when he had been caught by surprise like that.
At least she was done crying, he reasoned.
"I heard about Ron," Hermione started again, her eyes flicking up to meet his. "I can't believe he'd try hurting Draco."
Harry raised his brow. She couldn't? How couldn't she? It was so obvious to him—or had Hermione misjudged how deep Ron's hate for Malfoy ran?
"I can," he said quietly, shrugging again. "He doesn't just hate him—he hates his entire family and I guess it looked like I was picking him over Ron."
Hermione's eyes widened a bit—she hadn't thought about it like that. Sure, she had realized how much Ron hated Malfoy—and while she had really hoped to keep him in the dark a bit longer, at least until she had a proper grasp of what was going on, she hadn't ever thought he'd think Harry (or possibly her) were chosing Draco over him. That wasn't the case at all. She sighed again, folding her arms across her chest.
"We'll have to set him straight, then," she said, knowing in full that Harry was already going to disagree with her. She cut him off before he could. "First, though, we should change the password—just in case."
Harry nodded, glad she was on the same train of thought.
"Definitely," he agreed. Hermione turned toward the portrait hole and Harry followed suit, only stopping when she did. She hesitated a bit, glancing back at him, her voice no longer as rough and emotional as before. She sounded more like Hermione now, the girl that lectured him about his homework and scolded him when he talked bad about someone. "Though, for future reference Harry, I'd appreciate it if you let me know before telling someone the password—I mean, I know it's Ron and all, but rules are rules and they're obviously there for a—"
Harry stared.
He hadn't told Ron the password, and by the way Hermione was talking, she hadn't either... but then, who had?
"Wait," he said, interrupting her. "I didn't tell him the password. I thought you did."
Hermione's eyes narrowed a bit, surveying Harry for a moment before saying, "We should tell Dumbledore."
Harry nodded again, his thoughts racing. If Hermione hadn't told Ron the password, and if he hadn't, then who had? The only ones that knew it were them, Dumbledore and McGonnagall, both of which could be trusted—so who did it? He didn't like the feeling that accompanied this realization. He felt on edge, as if the answer were right in front of him but he was too blind to see it.
"Okay—"
"—but first we change the password," finished Hermione.
This was one of the few times Harry took stock in how well Hermione knew him. And how well she didn't know him, apparently. She didn't know him enough to know that there was something he was dying to tell her—partly because he knew Hermione would know what to do. She always did. He couldn't though. So either he was a better actor than he thought, or Hermione was too uninvolved to notice. He sighed. He couldn't have his cake and eat it, too. He had to either push her away or pull her close—he tried pushing those thoughts aside though, and they went to work at resetting the portrait password. Afterwards, Hermione headed up to Dumbledore's office to talk to him about Ron. She was fairly certain Dumbledore would have already questioned him, but she wanted to make sure things were clear—Harry agreed to stay there for a variety of reasons. To protect Malfoy, of course, should Ron, or someone else, try again—and to avoid the awkward small talk Hermione would probably try to engage him in on the way there.
Hermione left and Harry lingered in the common room for a few minutes, thinking and collecting his thoughts.
He promised Malfoy he wouldn't tell anyone—yet. And he worked out what that meant. It meant that he wouldn't tell anyone, so long as Malfoy wasn't in any immediate danger—but if that changed, should Lucius become aware of where he was before he was fifteen again, he would sing like a canary. Surely that would remove Lucius' parental rights and keep Malfoy safe? He knew they wouldn't be able to keep it from Lucius long—he could only hope Snape would come up with an antidote before then. It was sort of ironic, he mused, that just yesterday he would rather have hexed Malfoy himself then even toy with the idea of protecting him, and yet here he was... he sighed, glancing toward the bedroom door. Might as well get it over with. He absent-mindedly grabbed the book from the table Malfoy had been reading that morning, wondering if he was asleep or not.
A part of him hoped he was.
Harry knocked twice and waited a moment before entering, not wanting a repeat of earlier.
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Post by loekie on Nov 23, 2008 23:38:58 GMT 1
The blond rested his eyes on the door that leaded to the common-room. He still heard the two other talk and he figured they were discussing their hotheaded friend. The boy however couldn’t really blame the red-head. He could imagine how things had been and so he could see why he’d gotten so angry before.
There was silence now… for a few minutes. One of them had probably left and the other was doing god knows what. There were knocks on the door and he sat up straight again. ‘Showtime’ the blond thought with a slight smile as he watched the raven-haired return back into the room. He looked up “she alright?” he asked.
He was waiting for the right moment. He had assessed that the teen probably would not appreciate being jumped on the spot… but if he’d take it slow things mind not go the way he had intended… there were just a few things, or so the blond had found out, that a man just could not resist. His mind raced to find the best way to go about it and he figured he’d just have to wait a while. He sighed.. he couldn’t wait too much longer. Who knows how long he could keep the teen quiet without a promise.
‘Alright..’ the blond smirked inwardly ‘time to turn on the charm’. The boy eyes shifted from their usual cold steely grey remained, but something else was added… something people may call seduction and he slowly rose from the bed. He just wanted this over and done with, wanted to keep the other boy from ever telling somebody.
He moved across the room where the other boy was standing. When he finally stood before the raven-haired he quickly tried to evaluate what it would be the other’d be into. He looked up through his lashes and a hand slowly moved up to the other boy’s chest and trailed his way downwards.
He was suddenly worried on how the other boy might react. He sighed inwardly. He better not mess this up.
The blondes soft small fingers now found their way underneath the other’s shirt trailing the boy’s muscles that lay underneath as his other moved to the teen’s pants to unbutton them and work his ‘magic’ down below… -----------------
Lucius sat in his office preparing for when classes would start. He looked at the papers before him. He needed to find his son. If this was true. If he had been turned into a 6 year old… he just hoped he’d already build up enough control over the blond brat for him to simply keep his mouth shut until Severus could come up with a antidote.
He wasn’t even too worried. He knew the right people and had enough money to buy himself out of almost anything, but the accusations would cost him more of a sat-back then he’d care for and especially at this time he could not afford to loose focus and get distracted. There was more important things to think about. ------------------------
Severus sat in the armchair a while longer after Lucius had left. He however now stood and walked out towards the headmasters office. They needed a new plan. They could not tell Lucius much longer that they still hadn’t found the small child. It would soon become obvious to the ‘worried father’ that something wasn’t quit right and he couldn’t risk loosing his trust, as much as he HATED to admit to it. He hated what Lucius had become and wondered how he could have been so blond before. He walked into the office.
“Albus?” he questioned and then saw the old man sitting behind his desk.
“Yes Severus?” the headmaster smiled kindly “something wrong?” he asked his eyes meeting the younger men’s.
“I don’t know” he sighed “Lucius just left my office. I don’t think he has any clue yet what so ever, but it will not take long for him to figure things out Albus…”
The old wizard nodded rubbing his chin slightly deep in thought. He didn’t want to even think about a child in this sort of position, let alone knowingly putting one in that position himself, but at the moment he couldn’t think of any other way to protect their little secret. In the wizardian world it was a parent’s right to ‘discipline’ their children the way they wanted, and as much as the headmaster hated it, it was the way things were. He looked at the potions-master once again
“Maybe we should think about… informing Lucius…” he said with pain in his heart. He knew it was unfair, and that it would hurt this innocent boy, but if Snape’s cover was to be put in question or even completely blown, it would be a complete disaster to the whole world. They really needed all the help they could get and Snape’s information could be a key factor on winning or loosing this war.
“Albus…” the black-haired but then realized there was no other way of going about this. If they were going to stand any chance at winning what was about to come their way, they needed to do everything to keep things together and not draw attention to him. He nodded sadly “I’ll talk to Draco soon” he nodded running a hand through his hair.
The two men sat there in silence for a while both wrapped up in their own trail of thought, both trying to see if there was any other way to go about things…
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 24, 2008 0:09:01 GMT 1
Malfoy hadn't moved much from the spot Harry had left him in, and he wondered what he was thinking. Soon though, Malfoy was looking up, his grey eyes on his, and he asked, "She alright?"
He wondered how much he had heard. Probably eavesdropping to make sure he didn't tell or some rubbish—he sighed, remembering his thoughts in the common room. He promised himself he wouldn't tell unless it was necessary, unsure of the amount of good it would do anyway. Little did he know it wouldn't do any at all. He moved forward, across the room a bit so that Malfoy didn't have to twist around to see him, talking while he walked. He set the book he had grabbed for Malfoy on his bed as he passed.
"Yeah, she's fine. Just worried... 'bout you, Ron."
"And the world in general, I'm sure," he added as an afterthought, more to himself than to Malfoy. He turned, carefully facing the other, wondering how he was going to approach the subject again—or if he even should. Certainly he wanted to, he wanted to try reaching out to him again, but he wasn't sure if it was too late, or even if it wasn't, if he should just let it be for a bit. Give Malfoy a while to cope. Gods, he should just become antisocial. He was so bad with this sort of thing. Even though Harry was a bit slow at realizing what people wanted or needed, he was surprisingly empathetic and got involved a bit too easily. In other words, caring too easily would probably be his downfall.
Damn, he was a typical martyr.
He motioned to the book.
"I saw you reading that earlier—it's Hermione's, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you continued."
Awkward, much?
Malfoy didn't respond, however. Instead, he moved to his feet, looking at Harry like—like what? What ever the look was meant to convey, Harry was sure he hadn't seen it on Malfoy's face before. The older or younger version. He was looking up at him through his eyelashes, almost as if he were trying to be seductive—Harry vaguely remembered the expression 'bedroom eyes', but dismissed it just as quickly as it came, confusion weaving through his mind. Those were not bedroom eyes, and he felt disgusted at himself for even thinking it. This was a child, for Merlin sakes!
The other came to a stop in front of him, staring up at him for a moment, and Harry stared back down.
"What are you doing, Draco?" he asked curiously, with a bit of a smile. He really hoped he didn't start crying too—he had had enough of that for one day, though he was sure he shouldn't be worried. This was Malfoy, and he was probably taught that Malfoy's don't cry or some rubbish. He sighed, thinking of Lucius again and the whole situation—and then Malfoy was moving forward a bit more, reaching up and Harry watched him curiously, his eyes guarded, not quite sure what to think when Malfoy reached up his shirt, catching him off guard and surprising him by running his small hand down his abdomen. Harry blinked, a bit dazed, successfully paralyzed. His body reacted naturally, goosebumps forming across his arms and the back of his neck—he inhaled sharply, his mind finally catching up with the situation.
What the hell?
And then Malfoy's other hand was moving and it didn't take Harry nearly as long to react as he realized Malfoy was trying to unbutton his pants—shock rippled through his body and the surprise gave into something moe. He quickly grabbed Malfoy by the wrist, trying to be as gentle as he could with all things considering, and pulled his hand back. Instaneously, he grabbed Malfoy's other arm by the forearm, removing it from underneath his shirt. What the hell was he doing?
"What are you doing, Draco?" he asked, his voice a bit strangled. He had said the very same thing just seconds before—but this time, it took on an entirely new meaning.
He surveyed Malfoy's face carefully—it was nearly as expressionless as it always was, but there was something else. Brow wrinkled, Harry tried putting things together in his head. Really, he supposed his question wasn't the smartest. It was quite obvious what Malfoy had been doing—but why? And did Malfoy know what he was doing? Remembering that Malfoy had been abused and, not wanting to hurt him, Harry let go of him and took a careful, controlled step back. Was this some sick joke, or had Malfoy really, truly just tried to 'put the moves on him'? A six-year-old Malfoy, nonetheless! What the hell? Had he pegged him for some sort of... pervert or something? Granted, Harry wasn't entirely familar with the Wizarding World's laws, but he was fairly certain pedophelia was still illegal, or so he assumed by the lack of children marrying older men and women.
"What are you doing?" he repeated, trying to collect himself, his expression considerably calmer. Still, his voice came out a bit strangled, rough, despite himself.
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Post by loekie on Nov 24, 2008 1:19:16 GMT 1
The boy was aware of the teen telling him about the girl and the book he’d been reading, but since it had not been one of his priorities he ignored the boy.
When however he was grabbed by the wrist of one arm and another hand grabbed his forearm pushing him away his eyes flew up. Fear and confusion wracked the blondes mind leaving it temporarily incapable to register anything that went on around him. He vaguely heard the other’s voice, strangled.
"What are you doing, Draco?"
the blondes brain was still in a haze and unable to fully comprehend the question. He didn’t understand what had gone wrong. The other men couldn’t seem to get enough of what he did to them. What else did the teen want? He just couldn’t figure it out.
“What are you doing?"
The question was repeated, the voice still a bit rough, but calmer then it had been the fist time, and the boy would have been unable to describe the relief that washed over him when the other boy let go. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. But then again… what else could he do? He needed to get the other to promise to keep his mouth shut.
“I… I just…” he stammered and mentally kicked himself. Good Merlin Draco.. that’s the f*cking best you can come up with? His mind just seemed in a daze and where it would normally be quick and sharp to come up with an excuse… a cover-story, hell… anything today just left him in the dark. The boy’s eyes flew up once again “you can’t tell anyone” he pleaded his eyes still lingering on the green ones. He just hoped he could convince the other to simply do as he asked, but something told him that wasn’t going to happen. Still, though, he had to try. Try and make the raven-haired understand, since apparently he was not going to be getting anywhere trying anything else…
The boy looked down at the floor, ashamed, scared (even though he would never ever admit that, thank you very much) and just completely confused. Sure the men that had ‘visited’ had all been different, all had their own special preferences, but there are just a few things… a few points on a body that worked the same with any man… at least the ones he’d seen anyway, and now this teen seemed completely different and, yeah it totally threw the blond boy of.
Not that it mattered. It wasn’t his game, and the other was in control… always. The other decided what happened and he simply was there to execute, he’d gotten used to that so he’d just view this the same way. The teen called the shots, and the small boy could hardly make him do this against his will could he?
Hmm… maybe if he tried again a little later… ? He looked up to meet the other’s eyes again trying to read the other boy’s mind.. he just hoped it would all work itself out. ------------
Snape sighed “I just don’t know if he’ll survive this time Albus” he finally voiced his thoughts.
“He is a strong boy Severus, and now at least, he has you to help him through” the headmaster replied after a few moments.
The professor shook his head “I don’t know… I know we don’t have much of a choice, but…”
“I know Severus… it is unfair of anyone putting this child in the cross-fire, but if we don’t and arouse suspicion Severus, the consequences will be dire for the entire world now that Voldemort has returned”
The younger man nodded slightly “I know Albus… I know…” he sighed highly unsatisfied with the situation…
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 24, 2008 11:24:27 GMT 1
((Sorry I haven't posted love, but I got caught up doing art homework and now I've got to sleep. I'll try posting between classes, but no promises. Night.))
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