By Tatiana M
Disclaimer: All characters belong to me. ME. MEEEEEEEEE! "…" Okay, I lied. Don't sue me, all I own is a tatty green couch, old coffee cups, and an abnormally large amount of floppy disks. That's right, I don't even use my own computer. WAIT! I found a movie ticket stub! I totally claim that as well!
Rating: T for a ridiculous, predictable ending and occasional harsh language.
Eh...just read...
"…23h00 on January the 29, 2019. Would you please introduce yourself?"
"Harry James Potter." A sigh. "Do we honestly have to go through this every day?"
"Unfortunately, yes. Now, what can you tell me about how you felt while staying at Privot Drive?"
"Well, I thought I'd been pretty good given the circumstances, but apparently it wasn't good enough." The click of a lighter could be heard echoing slightly in the small room. Seeing the light produced and the resulting smoke streaming from the mouth of their saviour was a bit unnerving. Giving him an air of destructive maturity, it proved he wasn't what everyone still thought of him – a boy.
"That was an understatement if there ever was one, actually. As soon as I got off the fucking train all hell broke loose. Vernon –"
"You're uncle?"
"In a sense. I refuse to act as if he were a part of my family. He was anything but family to me when he gave me these," he gestured towards the various scars that marred his body. "The last time I checked, families had a bit more respect for each other."
"Surely those weren't all from him?"
"No, not all. Quite a few were from a couple of escapades I took part in at Hogwarts, as you know from past interviews. But on the whole, I'd have to say that the worst of 'em were probably not from childhood misadventures."
Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, the once Boy-Saviour leaned back on the metal chair, dropping his heavy leather boots onto the flimsy table in front of them. After he was sufficiently comfortable to tell his tale, the young man stared down balefully at the little magical ball that sat in front of him. The Surveyor was used in court cases to record all activities in the area. It was hard enough for him to do these sessions without feeling like a convict. Using a pensieve would have been all right with him; at least it kept the evidence straight. But nooooo, they wanted 'an unbiased account'. Since when was a pensieve biased? He sighed. To him, these were the least of his worries. If Snake-face's bitches burst in here… Well, at least that'd make the time more interesting and well spent.
"So, we've spent most of our time talking about what went on at Hogwarts…what about your home life?"
"If you're referring to Privet Drive, then I'll tell you one thing. I never considered that place a home. But for the sake of the story, let's put that aside."
Inhale. Exhale. Tap ash. Repeat.
Inhale. Exhale. Tap ash. Repeat. That was always his little mantra whenever he was in the bathroom puffing on a fag. Puffing on a fag indeed. If only the newspapers could see him now – Boy-Who-Lived-In-A-Cupboard: As Straight as a Circle, the Ashtray Mouthed Delinquent Sells His Soul to Buy Groceries!
Now that'd be sensational news if he ever saw it. Might actually knock the usual article of Voldemort's escapades off the headlines for a week or so. Perhaps he should owl the Daily Prophet…
But he was taking his mind away from the task at hand. Now he had to focus on getting out of this dirty stall of another random, public toilet and back into his room in Little Whinging without his Uncle finding him again.
Inhale. Exhale. Tap ash. Repeat.
He tried not to think about what he was forced to do to be able to get enough food to live. Ever since the Obese Fuckbrain killed Hedwig, he had no communication with the outside world whatsoever. He couldn't believe that he was 17 and anywhere near Privot Drive. If only Dumbledore hadn't trusted that bastardly greasy slimeball, they wouldn't be in this mess.
Damn Snape to the seventh pit of Hell. Damn the Order of the fucking Pheonix. Damn Arthur and Molly Weasley who told him it was for his own good. Damn them all for putting him here against his wishes, snapping his wand, and magically binding him to his only blood relative.
He laughed bitterly. Too bad Voldemort wasn't here. He might've let the bastard kill him. Hell, he would've helped. Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Oh, yes, that would be amusing.
Why I let Voldie Kill MeNo longer had to endure this shit excuse of a life
Get the best revenge anyone could dish out.
Inhale. Exhale. Tap ash. Repeat.
"And your cousin…?"
"I don't know how Vernon and Petunia ever produced Dudley. Honestly, if he so much as rested his arm on her, she'd be crushed under the weight."
Far off explosions were echoing through the room now, sending dust powders from the ceiling in big poufs. Both of the occupants ignored it; they were used to the scenario by now. Harry leaned back farther on the chair and blew smoke toward the ceiling.
"But that's besides the point. Unfortunately, they did produce offspring, and the result was the grossest example of a human being if I ever saw one. Taking after his father completely, he had no decency, or even respect for basic human rights, like life.
"The first time I ever became afraid of my cousin is when he put a young girl in a coma because she broke up with him. Supposedly she fell down the stairs, but that's hard to imagine when she was beaten so badly she died of a punctured lung and internal hemorrhaging."
"Merlin…"
A slight cough. Cynical laughter.
"I never saw the point in praying to a dead man."
"From what I hear you don't answer to anyone, let alone pray."
"Well, what else can you do when you've never been able to trust anyone in your life?" Seeing the hurt look from his interviewer, his tone softened and he added, "But then again, I've always been a bit on the paranoid side."
In and out, in and out. The repetitiveness was boring. Then again, it made it easier for him to lose himself, so to speak. When an offer came, Harry was gone. In his place was a shell, a creature that looked like Harry, but could never possess his soul. After the money came in full, Harry was back.The moans coming from his throat was fake, nothing as passionate as it was meant to sound like. Superficial. Just like him.
All of this for food. I doubt the Weasley's thought of this when they told him it was for the best. But then again, damn his pride. All it ever got him was a dead godfather. Besides, the dope he got with the deal was a nice touch if he did say so himself.
The awkward silence had 'cum' right after he had. Zippers being zipped, a few coughs, and the rustle of the pound notes. That's all there was too it.
And that post-coital cigarette, of course.
Inhale. Exhale. Tap ash. Repeat.
A sigh.
"I take that back. The first time I became afraid of my cousin was when I caught him wanking off in the bathroom."
Sigh turns into a snort of disgusted amusement.
"That truly was the most disturbing sight of my life. Who gives a fuck about Snake-face when you're faced with something so gross? Actually, that was the night it took place. You know. The ambush."
'Why did he have to come here of all places? Goddamnit, I'm gunna kill that bastard…'
He ducked a green curse shot his way and aimed a similar one right back at them. Twisting and turning around, he managed to count fourteen standing Death Eaters surrounding him and the Pheonix members.
Things had really panned out after Dumbledore had died. People started to lose hope in the war. So many who were hesitant to switch sides did so at that time. The Death Eater rate was at an all-time high, which left little room for Order members.
"What the BLOODY HELL did you think you were doing, Boy? You could have gotten yourself killed! Look at the number of these wankers! Stop being so fucking selfish and think about how you affect others for once, will you? Mer-"
The screaming stopped as Mad-Eye Moody was hit in the back with a bludgeoning hex. Harry felt cold. Grimacing, he tried to feel at least a hint of compassion about what was taking place, but it was impossible.
When it was all over, the body count was owled to him, along with a note from the almost dead Ministry informing him of the deaths of his best friend and surrogate mother.
Just another notch in the stick.
Inhale. Exhale. Tap ash. Repeat.
"That battle would change the course of my life completely. It really forced me to become a helluva lot more focused. Hermione, Molly, Moody, Draco Malfoy…all dead because of me. All I was trying to do was meet my supplier. Shite, I didn't even care if I refilled my stash, I just needed to get out of the house.
"I don't know why I'm telling you all this, you have your own problems let alone writing a whole sodding novel about mine."
He got up to leave, throwing the pack of cigarettes down onto the table as he went.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"My flat, where else? Jesus, it's not as if-"
He stopped abruptly, clutching his throat. He couldn't breathe. There was something blocking his lungs, like burning water. Rasping, he fell to his knees, eyes wide as he looked up at the only man he could count on.
"Remus…."
Cold smile. Remus pushed up his sleeves. The sight of the dark mark made Harry's eyes roll back into his head.
"Cigarettes…Why?" he managed, choking on the blood coming up in torrents from his protesting lungs.
Grinding the butt of the fag with the heel of his boot, Lupin answered, "You were all I had to lose."
The sight of the dead body made it harder to control the wolf inside him. Reaching into his robe, he produced a pack of clean cigarettes. Well, at least clean enough not to be laced with venom.
Inhale. Exhale. Tap ash. Repeat.
Ick…that was horrible. Dedicated to the loverly NeverWinterPheonix, to whom I apologize greatly. Just 'cuz I wrote that at 4am... >.