Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, wish I did. I am not making
any money from this. I wish I was.
I have become obsessed and it's all the "Harry Potter" fan fiction writer's fault. You know who you are, the many writers who create such fun, sad amazing storeys that leave me dying for the next instalment. I blame you entirely for my addiction and in retaliation I am going to start posting my own weird imaginings. You have no one to blame but your self.
An Interlude during war.
Harry sat in the almost empty diner. Every now and again the door opened letting the vicious stinging wind rip through the tiny room. The snowstorm was building, it was not a night that you would chose to be out. Huddling deeper into his overcoat, Harry held his mug of tea in both hands and unobtrusively watched the other customers. His contact was supposed to be here by now, if he did not arrive in the next five minuets Harry would give him up for dead and report back to headquarters. They had no time to be sentimental about their agents. They would mourn the dead when the battle was over.
The war had been raging for eight months and was rapidly coming to an end. In a strange way Voldemort slow build up to attack had been his downfall. So many people still remembered the last time he had tried to rule and they were not going to stand for it. Fudge had been outed almost immediately, the Auroras going rouge under his inept leadership and alerting the population to the threat. Instead of running, the people prepared themselves. Booby-trapping their homes, reporting any suspicious behaviour to the Auroras and their neighbours. To stay in any protected area every man woman and child had to take truth serum. Forcing people to put aside their old grudges and forging unusual friendships across the country.
Voldemort could not hope to defeat the entire united wizarding community with his band of squabbling followers. The only place he could hide was in the Muggle world, a place he detested. Dumbledore had a few words to the current Prime Minister and even the Muggle forces were unknowingly helping to unearth the dark lord. Voldemort's pride was his weakness. Unwilling to change his habits in any way, he was conspicuous in the non-magical world.
Voldemort was getting desperate and the final battle was approaching. Harry could almost taste it. The nightmares where coming with such frequency now that it had rendered him useless for anything other then light fieldwork. Living on painkillers and induced sleep, few would recognize the wreaked looking man as the optimistic boy he had been. Watching people die and a 24 7 migraine had a funny way of forcing a person to grow up.
The door slammed open, many of the customers grumbled as the icy wind hit them and the waitresses gave the intruder a dirty look. Harry did not look up, taking a sip from the bitter brew he concentrated on the taste. Silence filled the dinner for a few moments as whoever entered took their bearings, then approached. Sitting down heavily across the table. Harry's Gryffindor scarf marking him as clearly as a beacon. The heavily rugged up person motioned to the waitress.
"Coffee, black." The bored looking waitress wondered over to the bench and retrieved the coffee pot and a cup. Banging the cup down on the table she poured the coffee, letting some slosh onto the shiny surface of the table.
"More tea, sweetheart?" Harry shook his head and the women shuffled back to the counter. The only thing Harry had known about his contact was that he was one of most valuable and reliable spies they had. And that this was the first face to face meeting he had come to. Draco Malfoy was a spy. Staring down into his coffee mug, Draco began muttering his information.
"He is going to make his move soon. He has acquired some Muggle weaponry and is going to make one last attempt. He knows he can't win; he just wants to cause as much damage as he can on his way out. I think its Harry Potter or Dumldore that he will go after. Both if he can organize it. There are only twenty strong wizards actually loyal to him and a few more which I think will defect soon." Draco paused and took a long sip of the coffee before him, grimacing as the over brewed taste filled his mouth. Harry took the opportunity to gaze at his once bitter enemy. The Boy he knew was gone. Replaced by a man so scarred, no one from the school would have recognized him. Red raw marks ran down his face, bruises marked his once perfect alabaster skin. Just above his glove on his right arm a strip of skin was visible before his sleave hid it from view. It looked like he had been burned. The whole visible area was a soft pink and red coloured patch of distorted skin.
"Voldemort, what's his status?"
"Desperate, crazed. He is as close to loosing his mind as he has ever been. The dark powers he has been using are eating him alive. It won't be long for him now, even if the Auroras don't get to him first."
"Any other protection, we need to know about?"
"The only protection is what I have already shared before. Projectile repellent spells, you can't just shoot him or throw a weapon at him. Lot's of dark art shields, most of them impenetrable. He is physically week, but magically untouchable."
"Any idea when?"
"It will be in the next week, I can't be more specific. I think he is waiting to find out where Harry Potter is located. He does not seem to be able to get a fix."
Harry nodded, absorbing the information, filling it away for future study. It was what they had expected. It was still good to have it confirmed.
"Thank you" Draco's empty gaze snapped up from his coffee cup at the unexpected words and for a second flared to life with recognition. A ghost of a smirk crossed his face for a fraction of an instant. Remembering a childhood that they had both been forced to put aside. All to soon his eyes turned lifeless once again as he regarded his once most hated enemy.
"Harry"
"Draco"
It was the first time either of them had ever called the other by their first name. It was a mark of respect that both young men had refused the other during their time at Hogworts. It seemed so pointless now. Harry stood, draining his cup of the last of the now tepid liquid. Wrapping his scarf closer around his neck, he stepped out of the booth and stood besides Draco. Placing his tattered gloved hand on the other mans shoulder; he looked down into the empty grey eyes that dominated Dracos pale, battered face.
He squeezed his shoulder. Trying to convey without words that this would all be over soon. Draco closed his eyes, silently taking the support. Moments later the door to the diner slammed shut again and Draco was left hands around his coffee cup, watching the dancing snow.
Yes, it would all be over soon.
I have become obsessed and it's all the "Harry Potter" fan fiction writer's fault. You know who you are, the many writers who create such fun, sad amazing storeys that leave me dying for the next instalment. I blame you entirely for my addiction and in retaliation I am going to start posting my own weird imaginings. You have no one to blame but your self.
An Interlude during war.
Harry sat in the almost empty diner. Every now and again the door opened letting the vicious stinging wind rip through the tiny room. The snowstorm was building, it was not a night that you would chose to be out. Huddling deeper into his overcoat, Harry held his mug of tea in both hands and unobtrusively watched the other customers. His contact was supposed to be here by now, if he did not arrive in the next five minuets Harry would give him up for dead and report back to headquarters. They had no time to be sentimental about their agents. They would mourn the dead when the battle was over.
The war had been raging for eight months and was rapidly coming to an end. In a strange way Voldemort slow build up to attack had been his downfall. So many people still remembered the last time he had tried to rule and they were not going to stand for it. Fudge had been outed almost immediately, the Auroras going rouge under his inept leadership and alerting the population to the threat. Instead of running, the people prepared themselves. Booby-trapping their homes, reporting any suspicious behaviour to the Auroras and their neighbours. To stay in any protected area every man woman and child had to take truth serum. Forcing people to put aside their old grudges and forging unusual friendships across the country.
Voldemort could not hope to defeat the entire united wizarding community with his band of squabbling followers. The only place he could hide was in the Muggle world, a place he detested. Dumbledore had a few words to the current Prime Minister and even the Muggle forces were unknowingly helping to unearth the dark lord. Voldemort's pride was his weakness. Unwilling to change his habits in any way, he was conspicuous in the non-magical world.
Voldemort was getting desperate and the final battle was approaching. Harry could almost taste it. The nightmares where coming with such frequency now that it had rendered him useless for anything other then light fieldwork. Living on painkillers and induced sleep, few would recognize the wreaked looking man as the optimistic boy he had been. Watching people die and a 24 7 migraine had a funny way of forcing a person to grow up.
The door slammed open, many of the customers grumbled as the icy wind hit them and the waitresses gave the intruder a dirty look. Harry did not look up, taking a sip from the bitter brew he concentrated on the taste. Silence filled the dinner for a few moments as whoever entered took their bearings, then approached. Sitting down heavily across the table. Harry's Gryffindor scarf marking him as clearly as a beacon. The heavily rugged up person motioned to the waitress.
"Coffee, black." The bored looking waitress wondered over to the bench and retrieved the coffee pot and a cup. Banging the cup down on the table she poured the coffee, letting some slosh onto the shiny surface of the table.
"More tea, sweetheart?" Harry shook his head and the women shuffled back to the counter. The only thing Harry had known about his contact was that he was one of most valuable and reliable spies they had. And that this was the first face to face meeting he had come to. Draco Malfoy was a spy. Staring down into his coffee mug, Draco began muttering his information.
"He is going to make his move soon. He has acquired some Muggle weaponry and is going to make one last attempt. He knows he can't win; he just wants to cause as much damage as he can on his way out. I think its Harry Potter or Dumldore that he will go after. Both if he can organize it. There are only twenty strong wizards actually loyal to him and a few more which I think will defect soon." Draco paused and took a long sip of the coffee before him, grimacing as the over brewed taste filled his mouth. Harry took the opportunity to gaze at his once bitter enemy. The Boy he knew was gone. Replaced by a man so scarred, no one from the school would have recognized him. Red raw marks ran down his face, bruises marked his once perfect alabaster skin. Just above his glove on his right arm a strip of skin was visible before his sleave hid it from view. It looked like he had been burned. The whole visible area was a soft pink and red coloured patch of distorted skin.
"Voldemort, what's his status?"
"Desperate, crazed. He is as close to loosing his mind as he has ever been. The dark powers he has been using are eating him alive. It won't be long for him now, even if the Auroras don't get to him first."
"Any other protection, we need to know about?"
"The only protection is what I have already shared before. Projectile repellent spells, you can't just shoot him or throw a weapon at him. Lot's of dark art shields, most of them impenetrable. He is physically week, but magically untouchable."
"Any idea when?"
"It will be in the next week, I can't be more specific. I think he is waiting to find out where Harry Potter is located. He does not seem to be able to get a fix."
Harry nodded, absorbing the information, filling it away for future study. It was what they had expected. It was still good to have it confirmed.
"Thank you" Draco's empty gaze snapped up from his coffee cup at the unexpected words and for a second flared to life with recognition. A ghost of a smirk crossed his face for a fraction of an instant. Remembering a childhood that they had both been forced to put aside. All to soon his eyes turned lifeless once again as he regarded his once most hated enemy.
"Harry"
"Draco"
It was the first time either of them had ever called the other by their first name. It was a mark of respect that both young men had refused the other during their time at Hogworts. It seemed so pointless now. Harry stood, draining his cup of the last of the now tepid liquid. Wrapping his scarf closer around his neck, he stepped out of the booth and stood besides Draco. Placing his tattered gloved hand on the other mans shoulder; he looked down into the empty grey eyes that dominated Dracos pale, battered face.
He squeezed his shoulder. Trying to convey without words that this would all be over soon. Draco closed his eyes, silently taking the support. Moments later the door to the diner slammed shut again and Draco was left hands around his coffee cup, watching the dancing snow.
Yes, it would all be over soon.