DESCENT
REPOSTED: due to notification issues which weren't fixed by the repost. My apologies to those that faved and alerted before I deleted the story and reposted it.
Summary: As Virgil claimed, the descent into Hell is easy, especially when Tom was dealing with his troubled student, the Potter brat; a recalcitrant little snot with a penchant for spewing insults and an extreme hatred of all things female. TR/HP
Warnings: Go to AO3, user name: D_Genesis for the uncut NC-17 version for the graphic depictions of violence and sex that will make an appearance in the future, otherwise stay here for the FFNet-safe version of the story.
AU. Language. Violence. Adult situations. Rearrangement of family trees (See notes below.) Suggestive dialogue. Disturbing adult content and themes. Psychological issues, disorders and complexes galore. Possible triggers. Degrading remarks and slurs against females. Creature!fic. Some religious themes. Slash (boy x boy.) Obsessive behaviours. Moral ambiguity. Voyeurism. Exhibitionism. Teacher/Student relations. Complete Love triangle. Harry has different names. Un'beta'd! OOC-ness: Harry more specifically. Featuring: Smart!Sarcastic!Promiscuous!Harry, ASPD!Tom and Protective!Possessive!Draco.
Mentions of/insinuated: Underage, somewhat (sort of) D/s themes, Toys, INCESTuous themes(cousins), FEM!Slash (girl x girl). More warnings to be added as the need strikes.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction and therefore I own nothing herein excluding the plot, writing, any original characters and certain settings.
Main pairings: (Top/bottom) Eventual, Tom/Harry (When Harry's 16+)
Side/Implied/Past-pairings: Sirius/Lily, Others/Lily, Lucius/Narcissa, Draco/Harry.
One-sided: Others/Harry/Others, Tom/Others, Zacharias/Harry/Zacharias, Draco/Astoria, Sirius/James/Sirius, James/Lily
To spare readers confusion: While this Alternate Universe does contain magic, creatures and the like, there are no magical institutes. However, the schooling will still run on the OWLs and NEWTs with the same grading system.
This story will not be fluffy and light-hearted; certain aspects will disturb many readers. I have warned you. If you are uncomfortable with any of this, then turn back now.
For additional notes, please read the bottom. I you have any questions, PM me. Just remember to leave your PM function on so I can reply.
Happy reading.
-x&x-
Ab irato:
From an angry man
-x&x-
It was his first day at Blackthorn Academy and already, thirteen year-old Harry loathed it.
Oh, there was nothing against the high school itself; a sprawling campus that consisted of over one-hundred buildings—one of which was a goliath manor that seemed more like a Victorian-gothic castle than anything, complete with the requisite paranormal accompaniments—and spanned near two-hundred odd acres.
No. He quite liked the school, despite the fast approaching chill of autumn—being located in the Scottish highlands he imagined in rather inevitable, truly—no he just really, really hated his female classmates.
One would think they'd mature—a little, at least—since entering secondary school.
Not so.
He stalked along one of the many frigid hallways in Eynthwaite house—the dark, oppressive nature of the old manor-castle somehow corresponding with his mood flawlessly—footfalls muffled beneath the din of hundreds more students, traversing similar paths alongside himself in different groups; like a flock of migrating birds.
He paid them little attention, mind elsewhere, hands buried in the pockets of his thick, black hooded jacket, satchel slung carelessly over a slender but tensed, lightly muscled shoulder.
He'd been hounded by girls practically since his arrival some four hours and forty minutes ago, only the swift exodus of his last class had saved him from being swarmed upon exit.
A grimace tried to work its way upon his face. Unsuccessful against his will.
They were a disgusting waste of space, females. Not to mention air. It was a shame they were required for the continued survival of the human race.
Well, he reasoned, with the all the scientific breakthroughs these days it's only a matter of time.
Just as he thought he was home free, he caught the rapid approach of—click-clack-click—heel on wood; a cloud of something sickly sweet and floral that stung his nose and eyes. He coughed, tried not to gag and inhale more of the deadly toxin. His eyes watered.
"Regulus, right? Regulus Black?"
How the fuck did they even know his name? Even so...
"Wrong," he drawled, irritation ignited.
Technically, he was known at school as 'Harry Potter' a sort of tribute to the... inside joke between his father and godfather. Apparently his godfather, James, had wanted to name his son after his favourite grandfather but seeing as he wasn't likely to ever have a child of his own... Sirius stepped in, thus Harry had two names Regulus Black aka Harry Potter.
James had even named Harry the heir to his vast fortune and titles.
Legally, however, he was Regulus Harrison Black and had been enrolled as such with his preferred name being 'Harry Potter.'
Still, so much for anonymity and starting afresh. His dearest uncle would throw a fit, he'd paid a packet to keep Harry's enrolment as inconspicuous as possible.
He didn't cease his strides but narrowed jaded eyes at the girl, swept them from her perfectly styled hair to the tip of her pointed, five inch stiletto clad toes; a bleached blonde, makeup caked on so thickly it looked like a theatrical mask—one he wanted very badly to smear—overly thin, with huge breasts—wasn't she a little young for those?—and obviously more money in her trust fund than brains in her head if her skimpy designer wardrobe was anything to go on in this climate.
Regret was an emotion he seldom acknowledged but was doing so now; he wished he'd skipped mufti-day and started the following week when they were required to wear uniform. Maybe then he wouldn't feel the violent need to throw up all over her ridiculous outfit.
He said nothing more.
Why waste his breath and energy conversing with an idiot?
"You must be Regulus!" The annoyance insisted. Even her voice grated on his nerves. "You're the only new boy in our year."
Well, wasn't that little morsel fascinating?
"Interesting that you should insist that be my name," he accused. Not even subtly, at that. Ah well. The swifter this was sorted the better. "We weren't called on in class. Funny how that is, no?"
From the corner of his eye, he caught her face colour an unflattering shade of pink. Made more unflattering by the fact her foundation was apparently uneven.
"Oh!" muttered the girl, flustered, embarrassment hardly feigned.
Inwardly, he scoffed at the display.
"I, um, someone told me about you," added the irritant.
Harry's pink lips thinned, displeased by the answer. So someone told her? No one but family knew him by face, not even the rabid paparazzi. Or rather, no one should have recognised him by face. Granted, he did strongly resemble his father. And was a clone of his long deceased uncle, apparently.
Yeah, right. If only.
He wasn't that lucky, unfortunately.
Regardless, he supposed now he had a rough idea as to the leak of information...
"Did they, now?" His voice was deceptively soft and velvety in cadence; a warning he was losing his patience to anyone that knew him at all. Of course this girl didn't and mistook it for something else entirely. "I think you had best check your sources again... whoever you are. You have the wrong person."
"Oh, I'm Tessa. Tessa Lorrigan."
The young Black's pace increased, dark brows drawn down into furrows and the joints of his left hand cracking as his fingers twitched in his rapidly depleting patience. Maybe he could lose her in the crowd? There were plenty enough people, certainly.
"Did I ask?" murmured Harry, huskily.
The blonde hesitated a moment then plunged onward. "I... no. I noticed we shared two classes—"
Really? He hadn't.
"And wondered... if you'd like to study with me... maybe?"
She sounded oh so hopeful. Too bad for her.
"No," resolved the boy, curtly. What was there to study? It was the first class of the year. All they had were those 'getting to know each other exercises' that he'd adamantly refused to participate in. They were pointless. He had no desire to make 'friends' he'd no longer talk to once the year was up. Sooner, if he had any say.
He chanced a sidelong glance, deliberated the possibility she'd leave him be. She blinked mascara laden lids at him... Obviously processing his words, then. But would she continue?
"But you are new," she added, relentless and a tad more desperate, "you can't know your way around yet—the place is so big—and I thought, maybe, I could—"
He rolled his eyes, shoved past some broad male and hastened his steps. The indignant mutters of those he pushed through trailed in his wake.
"Maps," was his sharp interjection. "Useful things."
"Oh... um—"
She'd followed him... Brilliant.
He exhaled an exasperated breath. Did she not understand? Alright, fine. He'd spell it out for her.
"Look, I have no intention of being the Ken to your Barbie," he informed the girl, prompt and cool. This time, his sneer did make an appearance as he studied her openly.
She looked confused, startled.
Good, he decided viciously.
"Oh, and I'd ask for a refund," he added with a careless glance.
The girl blinked.
"A refund?" she queried.
The pair slipped out of the Eynthwaite building amidst the steady flow of students, down several sets of broad, stone stairs to a path of paving stones. He inhaled the fresh air deeply, basked in the feeble pre-autumn sun as it lit everything it touched with muted gold. With a gusty sigh, he halted and gestured at her vaguely.
"Your tits are lopsided," he educated her, all bluntness and disdain, "And as you're not wearing a bra its blatantly obvious... As I said: ask for a refund."
The girls face turned an unattractive shade of reddish-purple and mottled cream. It had the rather adverse effect of drawing the attention of passersby; they slowed, stared and the fake-breasted girl promptly burst into embarrassed tears.
He hated tears. Almost as much as a chest inflated with silicon... And whatever else they put in there these days. Sodium chloride, wasn't it? Salt water?
"W-wha-what?"
His eyes narrowed to dark malachite slivers. He hated repeating himself and her blubbering really wasn't endearing herself to him. His aversion grew tenfold. "I refuse to repeat myself. If you failed to hear, that's your problem—not mine."
The silly devo.
He withheld a discomforted grimace.
"I can't believe you just—You, you b-bastard!" sobbed the blonde, mascara smeared eyes reminiscent of a panda... but less attractive.
His parents had been married. Little good that had done them, though. But if she knew his name and was desperate enough to chase him down, she already knew all this. What was the point in correcting her insult?
"I," she paused, held her breath to... gather herself? "I thought you'd be different—"
You thought wrong.
He refrained from rolling his eyes, albeit barely. "You don't even know me," he snorted, amused by her idiocy as well as exasperated by her continual presence. "How could you possibly hope to make an even remotely accurate assessment of my character based on two classes of observation?"
She eyes watered and leaked, carried streaks of more mascara down her already stained cheeks. She sniffled pathetically.
A dark brow arched. "Would you rather I lie?"
"And," the girl gasped dramatically, for their audience, perhaps. "She thought rather highly of you."
This time, Harry did roll his eyes.
Of course, he was thought of 'highly.' There was no doubt in his mind that this entire dirty little encountered revolved solely around his net worth, which was very high, indeed.
Well, that answers that question.
Obviously this other female didn't know him. The only member of the opposite sex he tolerated for any length was his Aunt, and she knew better than to inflict his time or delicate attentions upon any of her friends. Typically those that possessed weak constitutions when it came to the mind.
Admin officer it was.
"Clearly this source of yours doesn't know me nearly as well as you seem to believe."
A strange screech and growl erupted simultaneously from the girl's mouth at his comment. He grimaced, it sounded almost like a watered down version of the t-rex from Jurassic park. Sort of... impressive in a rather... perplexing way.
The girl turned tail and fled. The heel of her boots scuffed the worn pavers in her departure. Many of the eavesdroppers disappeared with her, although some lingered, curious.
Gossip carrion.
Disgusting creatures.
With an inward shrug, he left the gossip mill to slake their voracious appetites on the unanticipated feast provided to them by the unwitting blonde. Really, Harry thought she'd have more common sense than to cause a scene that would no doubt be all over the school by the end of the day. Apparently he was giving females too much credit these days.
If she thought he cared for his own reputation, she was in for one hell of a shock...
Increasing his pace, the teen meandered in the vague direction of the inner court he'd walked by earlier. It seemed like a fairly good place for solitude, when most people were walking in the opposite way and considering it was lunch, he had forty-five minutes of free time.
Well, he judged, a grimace adorned his features, eyes cut to the watch strapped to his left wrist, more like thirty-six minutes now.
He took several steps toward his intended destination, halted, reconsidered. Abruptly changed directions, headed instead, toward the school entrance gate.
Fuck it.
Chinese or curry from one of the places down in the village would suffice...
"Well, if it isn't the 'handsome new boy' that everyone's been talking about," came the low, cultured drawl that he swore caused an uncomfortable zing to sweep down his spine. "Although personally, with that face—especially those eyes and that mouth—I'm rather inclined to dub you more 'beautiful' than 'handsome,' I think."
God.
Irritated green eyes rose, clashed with laughing steel gray ones set in a pale, slim and aristocratically angular face, framed by white-blond hair. He'd recognise that affected drawl anywhere and really, was not it the mood.
He flashed the tall, lithe boy his middle finger. "Piss off."
The interloper pulled a face. "Feisty. Bad day?"
"Malfoy..."
"Draco," the blond corrected.
Draco Malfoy.
As annoying as any fangirl and generally harder to avoid since they were family. Cousins. Born a year apart. While they got along well enough—some of the time—Harry wasn't too fond of the older boy's rather staunch belief that it was his purpose in Harry's life to play the annoying big brother. An annoying, somewhat incestuous big brother.
The young Black blamed the boy's parents for denying him siblings, now the Malfoy heir had a skewed belief on what was and wasn't appropriate between siblings.
Draco's lips twitched, whether in amusement or annoyance, Harry couldn't quite tell. Decided it didn't matter. "I hear you're already making people cry."
"Can you blame me?" Harry retorted, long, slim fingers drumming the satchel against his thigh in impatience. He could foresee where this was all heading and that was with him missing lunch. "With girls as annoying as the ones here, there's no real surprise. Devos."
The blonde's pale face contorted, brows scrunched and lips thinned in bewilderment. "I don't speak... whatever language that comes from."
"Devo, from devotchka: Russian," Harry explained with exaggerated patience, cut a sidelong glance toward his cousin. "Clockwork Orange? Read it."
"Mmm," was the blonde's noncommittal response, expression inscrutable as he eyed the younger boy. "You've always been a magnet for the fairer sex but this is getting ridiculous. If I didn't know any better, I'd accuse you of using some form of pheromone enhancer."
"Forgetting, cousin, that I hate females."
Draco cocked his head, contemplative. "There is also that."
"HEY YOU!"
The gruff yell echoed across the courtyard.
Oh fuck, what now?
Annoyed, Harry turned his eyes on the brute of a boy approaching him. The guy wasn't very fortunate looking; the only thing he had going for him was his exceptional height—which Draco still dwarfed—arms corded with thick muscle, a red, pock-marked face, deep inset piggish eyes and nose clearly broken several times.
Absently, Harry wondered exactly what year the boy was. Sixth? Seventh year?
"Back off, Higgs," Draco barked.
The boy, Higgs, glared at the Malfoy and jabbed a big, ugly finger at Harry. Absently the youngest of the trio wondered what it would sound like if he were to snap it in half.
"This bastard made my missus cry."
Harry's nose scrunched. Rude.
"How are you so certain it was me?" countered the younger teen, face schooled into something more reminiscent of Draco's icy hauteur, arms folded, unimpressed.
Higgs, the daft sod, blinked at him. "She gave me your description—"
An inky brow arched imperiously. "Which was?"
"Tallish, pale, messy black haired, green eyed pretty boy—"
Draco snorted, eyes dancing with unholy glee. "Guess I'm not the only one who thinks that," he muttered with a demonic grin.
Ignoring the comment with a steadfastness borne from much practise, Harry regarded the huge boy before him thoughtfully but... it seemed he need not worry as Higgs didn't respond to the words, either; apparently having missed them. Still...
"I can't decide whether I should be flattered you think me pretty," he teased.
"I—no!" Higgs growled, huge hands fisted at his sides. "I'm not some fairy boy who likes other blokes!"
Here, Higgs shot Draco an odd look. Apparently he had caught part of the cousins' banter.
Super.
For someone big on his image, the Malfoy really needed to take care with his words. Certainly in the presence of those liable to use said words against him.
"Really?" drawled the Potter heir, head cocked and lips touched with a dark smile. "Fascinating that it was you who leapt to that conclusion, no? I was merely stating my opinion to your own observation. I can't be the only boy that attends here who's fairly tall with black hair and green eyes," he pointed out. "And while I am new, thereby narrowing potential candidates down, that still doesn't explain why you fixated upon me unless you found me pretty enough to meet your girlfriend's criteria."
"Are you calling me a pouf?!" Higgs snarled, spittle flying everywhere. Fortunately, none of the boy's saliva touched either cousin. Harry feared conniptions from his cousin otherwise.
Huh.
Well wasn't this amusing?
"The fact that you're so against homosexuality," the green-eyed teen pressed, ruthlessly, thoroughly entertained, now, "would suggest insecurity with your own sexuality at best or the fact that you, yourself, are a closet 'fairy boy' at worst. That you find me pretty and are now arguing against being gay would suggest the latter."
"I have a girlfriend!" Higgs howled, furious.
Harry nodded along amiably, for all intents and purposes perfectly pleasant. "Yes, she was mentioned several times, I believe," he agreed. "That, however, doesn't change the fact you could very well be a closet case. For all we know, she may be your beard—"
"Beard? I—"
Higgs' features twisted, brows furrowed, forehead creased in a livid, bemused expression which summoned Harry's subdued hilarity to the fore.
"You also accused me of having made her cry despite the fact you aren't even certain I was the offender. Might I then suggest you keep your bitch on a shorter leash? This way you can avoid making any more embarrassing and baseless accusations," he concluded, reasonably.
He had no idea who Higgs' girlfriend was; he'd made several girls cry already and none of them particularly stood out from the crowd.
Now Higgs looked doubtful, though still red-faced.
"Besides," the green-eyed teen added, thoughtfully, "isn't that statutory rape?"
"She's sixteen—"
"Well I'm not."
"What?" Higgs' face contorted into something resembling a pug or a bulldog, unable to compute what he was hearing and Harry decided then and there that a confused looking Higgs was an entirely entertaining one. "Why are you—"
"Well it's true," Harry drawled, gaze intent, weighing. "The only girls I've made cry today are the slags that were propositioning me." And that last one. What was her name again?
"Are you calling my Missus a slag?" hissed the brutish boy, looking thoroughly ruffled.
Harry responded with a lazy shrug, the epitome of unconcerned. "If she was one of the girls bothering me, then yes."
With a growl, Higgs launched himself forward, big, meaty fist aimed at Harry's face.
"Harry!"
But Draco's shout of alarm wasn't needed. Higgs was slow. Far too slow for the younger boy, who merely twirled to the side with an effortless grace, seized the wrist attached to the flying fist, jerked and twisted it. Hard.
SNAP
Objective accomplished, Harry released the limb and—
Watched the bigger boy sail right past, centre of balance thrown off. He tumbled to the hard ground with a wheezed out oomph! There he sat, clutching at his broken wrist, face a distorted, twisted display of incredulity and gradually dawning pain.
"FUCK!"
Talk about slow.
Harry felt but a moment of regret; he'd likely just helped the boy out, seeing as it was Higgs' right wrist which he'd snapped and most people were right-handed... Though the pain filled shout was utterly satisfying.
Draco immediately stepped between them, grey eyes flashing in warning. "You dare attempt to harm someone under my families protection?"
Sighing in exasperation, the youngest teen cast the blond a glance. "Clearly I don't need your protection, Draco."
"You little fucker!" Higgs snarled, surged to his feet. Pain for the moment, it seemed, ignored. "I'm gonna kick your arse!"
The Potter heir scoffed.
"So says the recently crippled," Draco sneered. "Wait until my father hears about this."
"What's going on here?"
All three boys turned to the newcomer and Harry found himself having to look up... and up... and up.
"Professor Riddle!" Higgs began. "I—"
Harry blinked. "What the fuck are you?" he blurted. "Half giant?" The man certainly looked it. He had to be over six foot six but still remained perfectly proportioned... It was crazy. And here the Potter had always thought Draco was abnormally tall at six foot one.
True, the boy was only fourteen but still.
The newcomer's pale, remarkably handsome face revealed nothing as his strangely coloured eyes surveyed them, coolly.
And Harry, disconcertingly, found himself uncommonly startled by the scrutiny. So startled, in fact, that his brain promptly shut down.
"I assure you, I most certainly am not," advised the man. "Now if you would, Mr. Malfoy, explain what has just happened here."
His voice reminded Harry of a politician all smoothness and guile. How he managed that when the rich, deepness seemed better suited for the bedroom was beyond the teen's comprehension. He decided he'd dwell on that later, when he was thinking properly once more.
"Higgs attacked my friend," Draco replied, grey eyes narrowed on said attacker briefly. "Harry merely defended himself from the attack, Professor. Fortunately, he wasn't hurt at all."
Riddle—that was what Higgs named the man—continued to stare at them in evaluation, expression unchanging though his dark eyes seemed to weigh them each in turn. "And the reason Mr. Higgs attacked you Mr...?" His eyes fell upon Harry then, sharp and knowing in a way that made the teen feel like he was staring at himself in the mirror.
The sensation was entirely... bizarre.
He swallowed to moisten his suddenly parched mouth and throat. Failed. Tried again and... succeeded.
For the most part.
"Potter," Harry answered, carefully. Neutrally. Feeling the undesirable urge to shift his weight in a hitherto unnoticed discomfort, he tilted his head slightly upwards, in rebellion to his nerves and what, quite possibly, may have been the beginnings of a hard on. "It was all simply a misunderstanding... Sir. Involving Higgs'... bea-girlfriend."
The professor's odd coloured eyes caught the light, glinted like a shard of particularly sharp glass. "And this misunderstanding entailed?"
If he caught the slipup and Higgs' low grumble, he said nothing of it.
Which meant nothing but—
"He made Marietta cry!" Higgs exploded, face redder. It looked almost puce and Harry could see several veins throbbing angrily on the boy's forehead.
...Higgs really is an unfortunately looking bugger.
The glance Draco shot the boy suggested he preferred the mud on the bottom of his shoes to Higgs' presence.
"He can't even confirm it was me. Sir," Harry added, belatedly. "The argument being his girlfriend advised that—what was the description again?" He cast Higgs a questioning glance, bright eyes coy. "Oh yes. That a 'tallish, pale, messy black haired, green eyed pretty boy' was the one who made her cry. He decided that I fit that description, accused me of it and then physically assaulted me. I don't even know whatever her name is."
There was a long pause, in which Riddle's gaze didn't shift from his form. Harry didn't move. Every word he'd spoken was truth, minus several bits and pieces. So what if he'd goaded the block-headed Higgs to attack him?
"He called her a slag!" Higgs snarled.
Riddle's eyes remained unmoving, fixed upon the green-eyed boy. "Did you, Mr. Potter?"
Harry inwardly glowered. "I merely called all the females bothering me today slags and agreed with Higgs' comment that if his girlfriend had been one of those that disturbed me, then yes, she was."
"See!"
"Would this mean that you believe your girlfriend did, in fact, proposition me?" Harry inserted smoothly, ignored Riddle's oddly prying stare and regarded Higgs. "Can't be fun knowing your partner fucks around on you. Tell me, does she stray often?"
Draco was shaking his head, fair brows pinched together and was muttering something under his breath. Harry didn't need to hear it to know it was likely something unfavourable.
This time Higgs howled in absolute rage and surged forward.
"Enough," Riddle interposed calmly, snagged Higgs by the collar of his shirt and easily shifted him away from the indifferent 'Potter'. "Language, Mr. Potter."
Harry's mouth snapped shut on an unflattering comment as to where the good professor could stick his opinion about the use of language. He may have found the man an exceptionally appealing piece of eye candy but that was as far as his attraction to the man went. The man's demeanour left much to be desired.
Of course, Riddle was also his professor... And his own lack of morals aside, was fairly sure the man still possessed some.
Instead he fixed the teacher with a mutinous glare that turned mocking as he slid it along to Higgs' ugly face. "Well, I'd say it was nice meeting you," he declared to the larger teen, "but then I'd be lying. And if your girlfriend is one of the many I made cry today, you might want to inform her that approaching a thirteen year-old with the purpose of soliciting sexual favours is liable to land her in prison. There is a name for that, you know, it's called a hebephile and is little better than a paedophi—"
Suddenly there was a large warm hand covering his mouth and a solidness against his back. He tried to turn his head to glare at his assailant but his cousin held firm, wound his arm through Harry's to prevent movement and retaliation.
The blond was lucky Harry didn't feel like committing assault in front of a teacher. Indeed, he had no qualms about hitting below the belt. Proverbial and otherwise.
"I trust that is all, sir?" Draco pressed, and his hand tightened briefly over his cousin's mouth. It smelled of something sweet...
And reminded Harry of his empty stomach, which gave a violent lurch.
The teacher surveyed them a moment longer, dark brow arched. Harry wondered what the man was possibly thinking. Then Riddle nodded. More a single, sharp, downward tilt of his head. "As this was all a misunderstanding you may leave."
"But my hand!" Higgs roared. "He broke my hand!"
"Did he?" Riddle questioned, voice strangely frigid, "and how did this come about?"
"Well, he was calling my missus a slag—"
Riddle shifted, equally as impatient as Harry to get away, it seemed. "Which we've covered," he interjected, gestured at the boy absently. "Do hurry it up."
Higgs paled, nodded and licked his lips nervously. Personally, Harry wanted to hit him again, the idiot was wasting his lunch time and he was starving.
"Anyway, he grabbed my hand—"
"This was after the derogatory comments regarding Ms. Edgecomb?" Riddle interjected.
"Yeah."
"Before you, yourself, attempted to retaliate in defence of Ms. Edgecombe's questionable state of virtue?"
"I—" Higgs frowned. "Marrietta's virtue isn't—"
"Answer the question, Mr. Higgs," demanded the professor, coolly, gaze glacial.
"Yes." Higgs grunted, looking thoroughly put out.
Well so he should. Harry was more inconvenienced by this lovely little tête-à-tête than that moronic lout was. He heaved an aggravated sigh into Draco's palm. Wondered, idly, if doing something so completely juvenile as licking said hand would have it leave his face.
"And how might he have managed that?" Riddle probed. "Considering your disagreement, one would think a certain distance would be employed. Unless, of course, you were right in each other's personal space while this argument took place?"
Higgs appeared slightly flustered. "Not too close."
Funny that's what he took from that...
Draco snorted, the warm air dancing through Harry's hair, over the sensitive skin of his neck. It tickled.
Harry simply ground his teeth.
"No? Then presumably this took place once your argument had already escalated into a physical altercation?" Riddle pressed, expression calm but gaze intense, drilling into the large, unattractive teen.
"Um... Yes?" Higgs agreed and Harry inwardly rolled his eyes.
"Close enough that he was able to grab it while he was fending it off?"
Higgs nodded. "That's right."
"So you admit it was in self-defence?" Riddle pressed.
This time, Higgs appeared less than certain. "Er..."
Riddle merely nodded and glided away, affording Harry the very nice view of his toned, slack-covered arse.
"I do so dislike liars, Mr. Higgs," uttered Riddle and Harry jerked out of his staring. "Come along, now. Let's see if Madame Pomfrey has something for that. Then I shall have words with your father about your deplorable behaviour."
Harry watched the pair go. Riddle seeming to move over the ground without really touching it—which was impossible—and Higgs, lumbering along like the daft slug he was.
"What was that?" he demanded the moment he was released, turned burning eyes on his cousin.
Draco pinched his nose in a gesture that seemed... vaguely familiar. "I was keeping you from saying something that would land you in trouble."
"I get that," he replied, drily. Folded his arms over his slim chest. "I meant Riddle."
The blond blinked. "Oh! He's our head of house."
Riddle was his house dean?
"He's also an old friend of Father's."
Harry was stumped. "Uncle Lucy has friends?"
The Malfoy looked thoroughly put out, his fine, pale brow furrowed, his forehead creased and pink lips twisted into a sort of grimace. "Father isn't that bad."
"I'm sure."
"He's friends with Sev," insisted the blond.
"Snape is an anomaly... You and I both know that."
-x&x-
This was meant to be posted sometime last year after I had Cynical0range enquire about it... but I never got around to finishing the chapter. I looked over it recently and decided screw it, I'll post it as is. Before anyone comments, No, I am not back in my full capacity. I am currently trying to finish studying and find myself a new job. This was posted because I felt like sharing and was curious as to how this Harry would be accepted by the general masses.
Note: Tessa (the girl Harry chased off in this chapter,) is 15 turning 16. Harry has several advanced classes which place him in some fourth form (year) classes and Tessa was held back a year instead of being in Fifth.
While Harry is promiscuous, all the graphic depictions of his sex life will be when he's finally with Tom. Or when he's trying to goad Tom. (Partially because I will not write graphic sex scenes depicting minors and 16 is the age of consent in the UK. Secondly, because I'm not overly fond of main pairings having side partners before hand, unless (like in Riddle's case, in this story,) it is well before the pair meet.) All other relationships are peripheral and shouldn't (hopefully,) put anyone off reading. There is a reason that Harry is the way he is. And even while he may sleep with other nameless guys frequently, his interest in Tom never wanes.
EDIT 7/9/15: I shall clarify a few things after a comment I received regarding parentage... I have rearranged family trees around somewhat. James and Sirius are first cousins. Lily and Lucius are half siblings and these are only the main switches I have done. There are others. Please read all the warnings listed above. I have endeavoured to ensure all the required tags are listed for this chapter if it isn't listed, there is a reason for it. However, I will add the following tags: Complete love triangle, Harry has alternate names and Rearrangement of family trees. Hopefully this will keep people happy.
Question, Con-crit, reviews? Always welcome. I hope you liked it.
~Gen