Prompts:
7. (word) quicksand
8. (dialogue) "Hatred knows no bounds, huh."
10. (quote) "Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend." ― Albert Camus
McGonagall scolding - action
Warnings: AU - Slytherin!Harry
Words: 3 660
This may or may not be continued/expanded in the future.
Amicus Alter Ipse
(A Friend is Another Self)
Berlin, April 16th 2003
Five years after the battle at Hogwarts that was more often than not referred to as the Final Battle of the Second Blood War, the life of one Harry J. Potter was almost back to normal, as much as such thing was possible for him. That is to say, his life resembled a tangled mess of woolen twins. On the bright side, the attempts on his life had ceased nearly a year ago, which was good.
At present, he was sleeping on the couch he had passed out the previous night in his apartment in the center of Berlin. He had bought the place on a whim about three months earlier after his studies had brought him in Germany. With the sparse furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows, the two bedrooms flat was, as Draco had put it when he first saw it, 'emptier and bigger than your head Potter and that's saying something'.
Their friendship was a strange one. Even now, over a decade after they'd first met, people still kept on pointing fingers at them and wondering aloud from behind their palms what exactly had made the scions of Houses Potter and Malfoy become friends. Or even stay in the same general space without maiming and/or killing each other. Though, if one must be honest about it (as those in their circles rarely are), they did not begin as friends, per say. Arch nemesis would suit the situation much better.
Hogwarts, September 1st 1991
"… better be… SLYTHERIN!"
The last word echoed in the entire room and was met in engulfing silence. Had it been a Muggle cartoon or any typical comedy, there would be crickets in the background. Harry allowed himself to smile for a second at his poor joke and headed towards the far left table as soon as Professor McGonagall took back the batty hat. He would burn this thing even if it's the last think he'll do! He would!
As he walked he felt his heart sinking lower and lower. Harry clenched his palms in tight fists, so tight that his knuckles became a milky shade of white. Not even five steps latter, the green and silver table burst out in cheers and screams. The students from the other three merely watched them with disdain and outright envy. Whispers broke out amongst the students and even the staff members were looking at him with speculative eyes. One man in particular, with greasy looking hair and big hooked nose looked as if he had swallowed a particularly sour lemon.
Harry, of course, noticed none of this, too preoccupied in his own thoughts as he was. "There was not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin." Was he going to become evil? Was Harry as inheritably bad as Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon always claimed? "You-know-who was a Slytherin as well and so were his followers." Voldemort's followers… did they have children?
The eleven-year-old boy sat on the first open spot he saw, his expression carefully neutral (just like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon preferred it). Fortunately, everyone was busy watching the Sorting ceremony and no one paid him much attention. Unfortunately, the ceremony was coming to a close and as soon as 'Zabini, Blaise' joined them on the green and silver table and the Headmaster gave a short speech that made Harry doubt his sanity, those who sat near enough turned towards him.
"So, Potter, how did you get here?" asked the boy on his immediate right. He was rabbity in appearance and had dark eyes and mousy hair. He also spoke in a similar manner as that blond git Harry had had the dubious pleasure to meet.
"Indeed, I had pegged you for a goody two shoes and a Gryffindor to boot." Speak about the devil and he answers.
"And from the many times we had met, you, of course, know every single thing there is to know about me, don't you Malfoy?" Harry, rather uncharacteristically for him, bit back with voice lased with sarcasm. If he was to stay with them, he had to show no weakness, lest his life become as bad as it had been with the Dursleys.
Faint pink covered Malfoy's pale cheeks and he glared at Harry, unable to figure out a retort.
"You did not answer the question," a girl with curled black hair reminded him.
"I thought it was obvious. I went to King's Cross station, took the train and then walked. Just like you did."
"Allow me to clarify then," the rabbity boy spoke up again. "How did you, the Boy-who-lived, the symbol of all that is light, managed to trick the hat to Sort you in Slytherin?"
"I didn't. It said Slytherin will help me on my way to greatness and what not. I assure you; I had nothing to do with it."
"Are you disappointed, Potter? For being a Slytherin?" the blond twit sneered, or tried to in any case.
"Not at all," Harry lied through his teeth and took a big gulp from the pumpkin juice I his goblet to buy himself some time. "Surprised," all good lies need honesty as their base (Uncle Vernon had thought him that long time ago with his constant bragging about how he had outsmarted a client or other at work). "But not disappointed," he was terrified if anything and way out of his depth. "After all, it will help me to become great, well, greater," he laughed with the others, completely missing the calculating looks in some of the older students and the envious ones in his new classmates.
Hogwarts, 1st October 1991
A month later, Harry was going back to the common room, his new Nimbus 2000 slung over his left shoulder, after another grueling Quidditch practice. Marcus Flint was one insane and scary bloke, on that everyone in the team agreed to.
The corridor was desolate, however, despite that Harry was on his toes with his wand ready in his right pocket. In the past month he had learnt (or proven in practice) several very important rules. First: appearance is everything. Second: lying is good if you want to survive. Third: any and all weaknesses will be utilized. Fourth: catching up to an entire culture, radically different from what you have know up until your eleventh birthday, is as necessary as it is difficult.
Harry felt as if just one single misstep would be enough and he would find himself knee-deep in quicksand, with no way out of it, sinking deeper and deeper until there is nothing left of him. Suffice to say, his new life had turned out to be not as great as he had imagined and constant looking behind his back and lying had become every bit as part of him as his scar (which he was starting to despise) was.
"EVERTE STATUM!"
Fifth: Draco Lucius Malfoy is a complete and utter tosser who deserves everything bad on the world to happen to him.
Mentally Harry sent a silent thanks to Dudley and his gang, since only the years spent honing his reflexes helped him throw himself to the left and narrowly avoid the white jet of the spell in time. Mere moments later Harry was pointing his wand at Malfoy ready to answer fire with fire. After Harry had gotten his place on the team, the blond git had become even more unbearable and his constant complains and insults were getting on the nerves of almost everyone in the House. Not that anyone would help Harry, while he had several friends in his year he had no allies to speak of. And if was unable to deal with the situation at hand, he would never have any. At least Malfoy had finally snapped and done something rather than just talking.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked with fake curiosity. "There is no way this will end favorably for you. One of us will be hurt and there is a real possibility that we'll get detention for dueling in the corridors," all the while, Harry did not take his eyes off Malfoy and kept inching closer to the wall to have his back covered and expand his line of vision. If the blond twat was alone, Harry was a Muggle.
"Moreover, if I was to miss practice or Morgana forbid the game with Gryffindor, for either reason, both Flint and Snape will be on a warpath."
"And I should be concerned because?" Malfoy asked with a nasty smirk. Indeed, he was Snape's favorite and Flit's father owed Malfoy's a debt, so it was reasonable to assume that they would be better inclined to blame this on Harry; especially their Head of House and his peculiar grudge against Harry. Even so…
"I go down, I take you with me," the dark-haired boy threatened. "You are acting in a way that is most unbecoming of a Slytherin and of an Heir to a Noble House. I will make certain everyone knows that. Attacking a fellow student and housemate in the back, who do you think Dumbledore will believe? The Boy-Who-Lived or you? And I will be telling the truth, unlike you," Harry felt the cold stone of the wall and tried not to smile. He took a quick look around but did not see anyone else.
"You think you are better than anyone, don't you? Saint Potter who can do no wrong and can singlehandedly restore the glory of our House! Saint Potter who gets sympathy points for being an orphan and can get away with everything! Saint Potter -"
"Do you think I chose this?!" Harry exploded. The month of keeping him mouth shut had finally gotten to him. "Do you think I want to be Harry Potter the bloody Boy-Who-Lived only to grow up with magic-hating Muggles? I do not! I would trade all my money and fame for a single hour with my parents, just to know how they looked like, what kind of people they were! So stop throwing your problems at me, you spoiled insecure git, because I have enough already!"
Too angry to be able to think rationally, Harry turned on his heels and left a gaping Malfoy behind. He clenched his jaw so hard that it hurt but he refused to break down in front of an enemy. He needed time to calm down, because if he did not he would either start crying (something he had declared long time ago as useless and too blatant sign of weakness) or scream and punch someone; both options were unthinkable.
Had Harry turned around he would have seen Malfoy looking at him, with his mouth slightly open, as if it was their very first meeting. He would have seen Malfoy, after closing his mouth and straightening his shoulders, turning around and telling Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle (who had been hidden behind two suits of armor the entire time) in no uncertain terms that if they were to breathe a word of what had happened that day, he would destroy them.
Hogwarts, 26th and 27th May 1992
It was all Malfoy's fault. If he hadn't stuck his nose where it didn't belong they wouldn't have lost a hundred points and nearly become pariahs in their own House (like Granger and Longbottom were in their; Gryffindors had no concept of loyalty). If that git had kept to his mouth shut they would not be having a detention with the two Gryffindors and Hagrid in the middle of the night in the Forbidden Forest.
Granted, Hagrid was at fault as well. What kind of idiot would think that bringing up a fire breathing dragon in a small wooden hut was a good idea?
The worst of all was that Harry had been innocent in the entire thing. He had warned Hagrid that if he did not get rid of the lizard he would tell Dumbledore and somehow Granger and Weasley had roped him into helping them, because of a good deed he had done in October. Harry had agreed to lend them his father's cloak on the condition that they return it the following day. Of course, Malfoy had to find out about the entire thing and Harry (out of fear that the cloak would be confiscated) had tried to stop him.
In the end, all four of them were caught by Filch and his infernal cat. McGonagall, in her night-gown glory, had scolded them (if the tongue lashing she had given them could be considered as a scolding), taken points and assigned detentions. Snape had been displeased with Harry and Malfoy, the House - downright furious. Their punishment, decided by a makeshift consul made up of a female and male representatives of every year, was more or less just and lenient, their background and connections working in their favor.
Harry and Malfoy were forcefully paired in every single class and made to return all the points they had lost with perfect performances and answering every single question a teacher might throw at the class, be it rhetorical or not. A week later, Slytherin had recovered thirty four of the hundred. The fact that Granger had suddenly discovered the desire to keep her head down and mouth closed during classes only helped the two Slytherin's cause.
"How much longer do we have to walk around?" while Malfoy might grow on you after awhile, his whining certainly did not.
"Do I look like I know?" Harry snapped back. He ran his fingers through his (already) messy hair. "Just, just keep going and hope we find nothing dangerous."
"If my father hears about this –"
"He'll do nothing, because he will have no grounds for complaint. He might, might manage to get Hagrid sacked and them what? The other Houses and even some of the teachers will take it personally and the entire House will suffer because you were too much of a pansy to stomach a stroll in the school forest," not that Harry felt particularly safe at peasant, with only Fang and their meager skills for protection, but he'd be damned if he admitted it. And Malfoy was only making it worst.
"What's that?" the blond prat asked and pointed at something. Harry went to check it closer and on the lantern's light, the silvery liquid nearly glowed. He touched it with the tips of his right index and middle fingers and brought it closer to his face. He stood up from the crouched position he had taken, whipped his hand in his outer robe and spoke, without turning back to his classmate.
"I think it's unicorn blood," he took a couple of steps. "And there is more over here. I bet over there as well."
"I think it's the right time to shoot some sparks," he heard Malfoy's strained voice from behind him but did not turn and kept on walking.
"Come on Malfoy, where's your sense of adventure?"
"Intact, just like my sense of self-preservation, unlike yours," the blond murmured but followed Harry without further complains. He did shoot green sparks in the sky, just to be safe. The other did not mention it, since it was the sensible course of action.
Maybe, if Malfoy had not done that the two boys would not have lived past the night and whoever, whatever was drinking the unicorn blood would have killed them. As it was, the centaur Firenze saved them after the useless dog had ran away with its tail literally between its legs. He also told them who was drinking the blood – the Dark Lord Voldemort.
.
Harry and Malfoy woke up around noon. The previous night (or was it earlier in the morning) Snape had told them that they would not be attending classes the following (or later the same) day. The boys had used the opportunity to sleep in and longue around.
"Malfoy, can I ask you something?"
"What is it Potter?"
"Your parents, they were on his side, weren't they?" there was no need to clarify who he was.
"My father was Im-"
"Imperiused, yes, I know," Harry cut him off. "That's the official version in any case."
"If you are insinuating anything," Malfoy said in a threatening voice.
"I'm not. I don't particularly care about their true loyalties right now."
"Then what is it?" the blond was obviously getting rather impatient.
"What… what do they say about him?"
There was silence. Harry could hear sheets of Malfoy's bed shuffling and then the padding of his bare feet on the carpet. Aside from that, the only sound in the room was the lapping of the lake's water against the windows. Then he felt the opposite right corner of his bed dip under the blond's weight. Harry changed his position so instead of laying and staring at the ceiling he was sitting with his legs crossed under him and leaning on the headboard. Malfoy had taken a similar position. For some time the two boys simply watched each other.
"Why do you want to know?" in the end, Malfoy was the more impatient one and broke the silence.
"I just do," Harry answered after some time. "He killed my parents and because of him I am famous. Because I lived where countless others died," the dark-haired boy laughed humorlessly. "And there is only so much I can learn from books and newspapers. I want to, need to know more about him, what kind of person he was, why he did what he did. You don't have to answer."
"I do. If someone does not tell you, you'll never understand," Malfoy swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them his grey orbs locked with Harry's emerald one and he spoke.
"There has always been a difference between light and dark magic and their respective practitioners. However, ever since the Blood Rebellions of the 1800s, dark started to equal evil and bad and more and more turned to light magic to avoid the stigma that comes with being dark. Our ways, our culture and traditions (and I mean magical) were, are slowly disappearing. And with the mud- Muggleborns demanding more and more changes in our society only to accommodate them and the Light agreeing to it… is it so strange to imagine that those who were unhappy with it would want to teach the mudbl- Muggleborns a lesson?
"And then, there he was, charming, powerful and full of promises. The Dark Lord gave them what they wanted and by the time they, I mean his followers, knew what monster he truly was it was too late. From what I've heard, with time he became more and more obsessed with the idea of all-wizard Britain. His hatred towards Muggles so deep that he wanted to exterminate them, rather than rule them and with them every single Muggleborn."
"Hatred knows no bounds, huh."
"I guess so. I don't know much, just pieces of conversations I've overheard through the years. My parents don't like talking about the Blood War."
"Thanks anyway, Malfoy. You know, you can be a real decent bloke if you put your mind to it."
"I shall take this as a compliment, Potter," the blond stood, made his way to his own bed and opened the book he had been reading previously. With feigned calm and disinterest, without taking his eyes from the page he said. "And it's Draco."
"Draco," Harry repeated, tasting the name on his lips. "Only if I'm Harry."
Berlin, April 16th 2003
"Harry Potter, get your sorry ass here lest I come through and drag you out myself!"
The dark-haired youth did not bother concealing a wince at sound of his best mate voice. The pounding in his head was killing him. He knew that last round of fire-whiskey was a bad idea.
"What do you want Draco? Do you have any idea how early it is?" Harry asked as he made his way to the fireplace.
"Around noon in Berlin, unless they suddenly changed the time zones," came the sarcastic replay. "Are you hung over?" Harry opened his mouth to answer but was quickly interrupted. "Never mind that, I need you to come to Malfoy Manner as soon as possible."
"Why?" Harry was happy that Draco seemed happy, but previous experience had thought him that Draco being happy was not necessarily a good thing for him.
"I asked Astoria. She said yes, of course."
"Of course… wait, you proposed to her. That's great news; I can almost forgive you for waking me up because of it. Congratulations!"
"Thank you. Now, I hope you keep that portkey because we need to discuss your duties as my best man. Don't worry, I have hangover potions in stock."
"Best man?"
"Unless you are planning to refuse."
"For nothing in the world," the wide grin Harry had on his face was threatening to split it apart but he didn't care. "Give me half an hour. See you in a bit, Draco."
"Bye, Harry."
Harry went to his bedroom to change in a fresh set of clothes and cast some refreshing charms. His attention was, as usual, drawn to the writings on the wall behind his bed. In a struck of insanity he had let Leila design his apartment and that wall was the only thing in his bedroom he had left as she had made it.
He smiled and wrapped his around the silver pendant on his neck.
"Amicus Alter Ipse," he whispered and on the next moment the room was empty, the sun illuminating the golden words.
"Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend."