Bother - Chapter 4
0-0
"So you're saying your hatred for muggles is purely logical?" Harry asked incredulously.
-Exactly.-
"You're so lost." He laughed, annoying Tom.
-What is so amusing?-
Harry found it strange and increasingly discomforting that he could feel the man's emotions. He could hear the words in his mind, but actually feeling the emotion behind the words... it was different.
Over the time he'd been getting to know Tom, the resentment for his life and for his treatment by muggles was obvious. The man felt begrudged of a childhood and those responsible were muggles. And though Harry would never admit it to anyone, he felt that maybe the hatred was justified, in a twisted way. Tom had been badly influenced as a child, Harry could sympathize, it had messed with Tom and eventually turned him into Voldemort.
"The orphanage, was it bad?"
There was a long silence.
"Come on, Tom, was it bad?" He repeated.
-Define bad.-
"Did they beat you or rape you?" As soon as it came out of his mouth, Harry knew he didn't want to hear the answer, not really. Because when he did, and he already had a good idea of what it would be, he wasn't sure how he would feel. And it scared him.
-I don't see how it is your business, Potter.- Harry could sense the anger that could be provoked with his next statement but couldn't help it.
"You're just an abused, vengeful child, really." For a split second a sharp pain panged in his head. It quickly faded, only a dull throb behind his scar remained, reminding him of Tom was capable.
-You have no idea what you speak of.-
"No, I'd say I don't." Harry whispered. "But then who does? Not every traumatised kid goes out and becomes a Dark Lord. I'd say you're unique, Tom, does that make you happy?"
-Happiness is an illusion.-
"What are you, a muggle song?"
-I should kill you.- For the first time in a while Tom sounded truly cold. Harry had to make an effort not to retort in anger.
"Good things take time." He replied, not really knowing what message he meant to put across. He knew that with Tom's new found knowledge of him that the man would take it the way it sounded and Harry wasn't sure it mattered.
The presence was cut away in an almost painful gesture, leaving Harry with a nasty headache. Had he hurt Tom? Harry reminded himself of the man's nature once more and wondered why he cared.
0-0
Harry use to think he understood people. Then he realized he'd been seeing the world in black and white. Tom had fixed that up quickly, teaching him there were not two polar extremes, just complex shades of gray.
Then along came Malfoy. The short encounter, resulting in no rumors, had put Harry on edge. Either Malfoy believed he may be subject to blackmail or the boy genuinely didn't want to cause trouble for Harry. When Harry put more thought more about it he thought it was probably neither. No doubt Malfoy had an ulterior motive that Harry hadn't a clue of.
Of course Dumbledore had been around all along but it wasn't until the summer holidays just passed that Harry saw how manipulative the old man was. It made him wonder what he meant to the Headmaster. Was he a tool? A weapon? A last resort? Harry couldn't deny that he blamed the old man for his godfather's death, anyone would know that after his temper tantrum in the Headmaster's office. After his fifth year Harry had vowed to try to control his temper.
Harry thought he knew everything about his friends. He was wrong. As much as Harry didn't want to blame them for his confusion, they were a source of it. Someone looking in on their little group might have seen the possible consequence of being a trio. Two was company, three was a crowd. He felt like the third wheel whenever they went to Hogsmeade or to the Common Room, even. It was Ron and Hermione. Then there was Harry. And he hated it. He despised his friends for it. He loathed himself for it.
He considered breaking away. Finding someone for himself.
"If anyone would have me," He murmured softly, hardly realizing he'd spoken aloud.
The cold, hard darkness in the tower reminded him of the time. It was late. He'd taken to wandering up to the Astronomy Tower past midnight, ever since the Christmas holidays, which had ended just a few days ago. Ron and Hermione had come back happier than ever. In turn, Harry was more miserable than ever. He wasn't sure if he'd rather them staying away, not rubbing their perfect lives into his whirlpool of an existence. Harry hated himself for thinking such a thought. But then, he hated himself anyway.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" The question was a frustrated yell.
"I'd say you're fucking crazy, Potter." Came the unexpected reply.
Harry jumped, startled. "Malfoy!" He growled when the moonlight illuminated the other boy's face.
"The one and only, kneel and worship." Malfoy smirked, casually leaning against the door.
"Go away, Malfoy, find someone else to bother."
The Slytherin ignored him and continued on his earlier tangent. "Bloody mad if you ask me. It's freezing."
"I didn't ask you. I happen to like it, if you don't, no one's forcing you to stay." Harry gritted his teeth.
"I'm wounded, Potter, truly wounded. I'd love to stay and discuss the extent of your dementia."
"Just go away."
"What, nothing to say?" Sarcasm from Malfoy was really an enlightening experience. Everything about the blond was made for it. Arrogance. Voice. Body... Harry almost smiled but caught himself.
"Not to you."
"What a fucking shame." Harry really was surprised by the language he'd heard from Malfoy in the few semi-proper conversations they'd been engaged in. He thought purebloods were all about manners and propriety.
"Look, Malfoy, this is my place." He didn't know what inspired him to say it because it wasn't his place at all. It was the Astronomy Tower, open to all. Well, not this far after curfew, but the point being that Harry didn't own the tower. And Malfoy picked up on that quickly.
"YOUR place? How pretentious of you." Harry half-agreed with the smirking boy.
"Fine. Stay if you want to so much." Harry gave in. Malfoy was a thorn in his side but there wasn't much else he could do, he didn't want to leave, he wasn't ready to go back to the dorms yet.
Much to Harry's surprise, Malfoy sat down without another word.
There was a second of awkward silence. Harry sighed and pulled out a cigarette. He put it between his lips and lit it, all the while feeling the stare of Malfoy's stormy eyes.
"What the fuck is that?" He finally asked.
Harry inhaled deeply and let the smoke out, the tension visibly slipping out of his shoulders.
"Cigarette. Tobacco. Nicotine."
"How many vicious habits do you have, Potter?"
"It's not an addiction, okay?" Harry snapped. It wasn't. It was just relaxation.
Malfoy muttered something but he couldn't hear it and chose to ignore the comment, it would only bring unrest.
The smokes were Dudley's, Harry had tried it out during the summer, he'd heard a lot about smoking. He needed something to help him relax, it was especially effective after a nightmare, and he'd been having a lot of those lately.
"The whole school could know by morning." Malfoy spoke up. Harry knew he wasn't talking about the smoking.
"Are you threatening me?" He asked coldly.
"I'm warning you." The tone worried Harry, Malfoy was dead serious.
"What do you want from me?"
0-0
Draco hadn't thought about that. He hadn't meant it that way. He supposed he just wanted to re-establish himself as... bigger? More dangerous?
Malfoys didn't cry. Draco knew that. So he had to make sure that wasn't what happened on Thursday.
"Nothing. Yet." The answer didn't sound as malicious as he wanted it to.
Draco felt his face flush. He was glad it was so dark, Potter couldn't see his embarrassment.
"I fucking hate staying at Hogwarts in the holidays." He blurted out. It was a fault of his, words flying out of his mouth when he felt humiliated. Instantly his face reddened further. Why did he have to say that to Potter?
"Why do you then?" Thankfully, Potter didn't seem to find Draco's outburst unusual.
"Father."
There was a short pause. Potter turned to face him. "I can understand that." And Draco truly believed he could.
Something occurred to him. "Your relatives..." He waited for Potter to finish the sentence.
"My uncle slaps me around a bit, nothing extreme." Draco wondered what Potter considered extreme. "They don't like me around during the holidays."
"You're the Boy-Who-Lived."
"Ironic, isn't it?"
Somehow it made Draco angry. "You're so fucking arrogant!" It was only Potter who could elicit these irrational explosions from him.
Draco clenched his fist when Potter let out a soft laugh. "Pot calling the kettle black."
Draco looked at him in confusion.
"Look who's talking." Potter explained.
"I don't mind being a hypocrite."
"You Slytherins wouldn't."
"It's my house."
He felt like he had one up on Potter when the small teen stared at him bemusedly.
"So?"
"It's my house, not me."
"And?"
"You can't judge 80 odd students based on me."
Potter shook his head. "You're acting weird, you know that?"
"From what I think of you, you're acting like a bloody lunatic."
The Boy-Who-Lived scowled and Draco smirked triumphantly.
"I'll be fucking off then?" He'd successfully paid Potter back for making him embarrassed, his work was done there. The conversation had been jilted, slightly backward and strange, Draco would have a lot to think about later.
"What's with you and the word 'fuck', Malfoy?" Potter shouted after him.
"I fucking like it!" He shouted back, making his way down the stairs quickly. He left with a small smile on his face and didn't know why.
0-0
End of Chapter 4
Thanks to: yeoldecrazy1, simsari, im-a-daydream-believer, curlytop.
Next chapter: Draco's obsession with the word 'fuck', an explanation for something said in this chapter (vague, I know), Slytherin house and more!
0-0
"So you're saying your hatred for muggles is purely logical?" Harry asked incredulously.
-Exactly.-
"You're so lost." He laughed, annoying Tom.
-What is so amusing?-
Harry found it strange and increasingly discomforting that he could feel the man's emotions. He could hear the words in his mind, but actually feeling the emotion behind the words... it was different.
Over the time he'd been getting to know Tom, the resentment for his life and for his treatment by muggles was obvious. The man felt begrudged of a childhood and those responsible were muggles. And though Harry would never admit it to anyone, he felt that maybe the hatred was justified, in a twisted way. Tom had been badly influenced as a child, Harry could sympathize, it had messed with Tom and eventually turned him into Voldemort.
"The orphanage, was it bad?"
There was a long silence.
"Come on, Tom, was it bad?" He repeated.
-Define bad.-
"Did they beat you or rape you?" As soon as it came out of his mouth, Harry knew he didn't want to hear the answer, not really. Because when he did, and he already had a good idea of what it would be, he wasn't sure how he would feel. And it scared him.
-I don't see how it is your business, Potter.- Harry could sense the anger that could be provoked with his next statement but couldn't help it.
"You're just an abused, vengeful child, really." For a split second a sharp pain panged in his head. It quickly faded, only a dull throb behind his scar remained, reminding him of Tom was capable.
-You have no idea what you speak of.-
"No, I'd say I don't." Harry whispered. "But then who does? Not every traumatised kid goes out and becomes a Dark Lord. I'd say you're unique, Tom, does that make you happy?"
-Happiness is an illusion.-
"What are you, a muggle song?"
-I should kill you.- For the first time in a while Tom sounded truly cold. Harry had to make an effort not to retort in anger.
"Good things take time." He replied, not really knowing what message he meant to put across. He knew that with Tom's new found knowledge of him that the man would take it the way it sounded and Harry wasn't sure it mattered.
The presence was cut away in an almost painful gesture, leaving Harry with a nasty headache. Had he hurt Tom? Harry reminded himself of the man's nature once more and wondered why he cared.
0-0
Harry use to think he understood people. Then he realized he'd been seeing the world in black and white. Tom had fixed that up quickly, teaching him there were not two polar extremes, just complex shades of gray.
Then along came Malfoy. The short encounter, resulting in no rumors, had put Harry on edge. Either Malfoy believed he may be subject to blackmail or the boy genuinely didn't want to cause trouble for Harry. When Harry put more thought more about it he thought it was probably neither. No doubt Malfoy had an ulterior motive that Harry hadn't a clue of.
Of course Dumbledore had been around all along but it wasn't until the summer holidays just passed that Harry saw how manipulative the old man was. It made him wonder what he meant to the Headmaster. Was he a tool? A weapon? A last resort? Harry couldn't deny that he blamed the old man for his godfather's death, anyone would know that after his temper tantrum in the Headmaster's office. After his fifth year Harry had vowed to try to control his temper.
Harry thought he knew everything about his friends. He was wrong. As much as Harry didn't want to blame them for his confusion, they were a source of it. Someone looking in on their little group might have seen the possible consequence of being a trio. Two was company, three was a crowd. He felt like the third wheel whenever they went to Hogsmeade or to the Common Room, even. It was Ron and Hermione. Then there was Harry. And he hated it. He despised his friends for it. He loathed himself for it.
He considered breaking away. Finding someone for himself.
"If anyone would have me," He murmured softly, hardly realizing he'd spoken aloud.
The cold, hard darkness in the tower reminded him of the time. It was late. He'd taken to wandering up to the Astronomy Tower past midnight, ever since the Christmas holidays, which had ended just a few days ago. Ron and Hermione had come back happier than ever. In turn, Harry was more miserable than ever. He wasn't sure if he'd rather them staying away, not rubbing their perfect lives into his whirlpool of an existence. Harry hated himself for thinking such a thought. But then, he hated himself anyway.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" The question was a frustrated yell.
"I'd say you're fucking crazy, Potter." Came the unexpected reply.
Harry jumped, startled. "Malfoy!" He growled when the moonlight illuminated the other boy's face.
"The one and only, kneel and worship." Malfoy smirked, casually leaning against the door.
"Go away, Malfoy, find someone else to bother."
The Slytherin ignored him and continued on his earlier tangent. "Bloody mad if you ask me. It's freezing."
"I didn't ask you. I happen to like it, if you don't, no one's forcing you to stay." Harry gritted his teeth.
"I'm wounded, Potter, truly wounded. I'd love to stay and discuss the extent of your dementia."
"Just go away."
"What, nothing to say?" Sarcasm from Malfoy was really an enlightening experience. Everything about the blond was made for it. Arrogance. Voice. Body... Harry almost smiled but caught himself.
"Not to you."
"What a fucking shame." Harry really was surprised by the language he'd heard from Malfoy in the few semi-proper conversations they'd been engaged in. He thought purebloods were all about manners and propriety.
"Look, Malfoy, this is my place." He didn't know what inspired him to say it because it wasn't his place at all. It was the Astronomy Tower, open to all. Well, not this far after curfew, but the point being that Harry didn't own the tower. And Malfoy picked up on that quickly.
"YOUR place? How pretentious of you." Harry half-agreed with the smirking boy.
"Fine. Stay if you want to so much." Harry gave in. Malfoy was a thorn in his side but there wasn't much else he could do, he didn't want to leave, he wasn't ready to go back to the dorms yet.
Much to Harry's surprise, Malfoy sat down without another word.
There was a second of awkward silence. Harry sighed and pulled out a cigarette. He put it between his lips and lit it, all the while feeling the stare of Malfoy's stormy eyes.
"What the fuck is that?" He finally asked.
Harry inhaled deeply and let the smoke out, the tension visibly slipping out of his shoulders.
"Cigarette. Tobacco. Nicotine."
"How many vicious habits do you have, Potter?"
"It's not an addiction, okay?" Harry snapped. It wasn't. It was just relaxation.
Malfoy muttered something but he couldn't hear it and chose to ignore the comment, it would only bring unrest.
The smokes were Dudley's, Harry had tried it out during the summer, he'd heard a lot about smoking. He needed something to help him relax, it was especially effective after a nightmare, and he'd been having a lot of those lately.
"The whole school could know by morning." Malfoy spoke up. Harry knew he wasn't talking about the smoking.
"Are you threatening me?" He asked coldly.
"I'm warning you." The tone worried Harry, Malfoy was dead serious.
"What do you want from me?"
0-0
Draco hadn't thought about that. He hadn't meant it that way. He supposed he just wanted to re-establish himself as... bigger? More dangerous?
Malfoys didn't cry. Draco knew that. So he had to make sure that wasn't what happened on Thursday.
"Nothing. Yet." The answer didn't sound as malicious as he wanted it to.
Draco felt his face flush. He was glad it was so dark, Potter couldn't see his embarrassment.
"I fucking hate staying at Hogwarts in the holidays." He blurted out. It was a fault of his, words flying out of his mouth when he felt humiliated. Instantly his face reddened further. Why did he have to say that to Potter?
"Why do you then?" Thankfully, Potter didn't seem to find Draco's outburst unusual.
"Father."
There was a short pause. Potter turned to face him. "I can understand that." And Draco truly believed he could.
Something occurred to him. "Your relatives..." He waited for Potter to finish the sentence.
"My uncle slaps me around a bit, nothing extreme." Draco wondered what Potter considered extreme. "They don't like me around during the holidays."
"You're the Boy-Who-Lived."
"Ironic, isn't it?"
Somehow it made Draco angry. "You're so fucking arrogant!" It was only Potter who could elicit these irrational explosions from him.
Draco clenched his fist when Potter let out a soft laugh. "Pot calling the kettle black."
Draco looked at him in confusion.
"Look who's talking." Potter explained.
"I don't mind being a hypocrite."
"You Slytherins wouldn't."
"It's my house."
He felt like he had one up on Potter when the small teen stared at him bemusedly.
"So?"
"It's my house, not me."
"And?"
"You can't judge 80 odd students based on me."
Potter shook his head. "You're acting weird, you know that?"
"From what I think of you, you're acting like a bloody lunatic."
The Boy-Who-Lived scowled and Draco smirked triumphantly.
"I'll be fucking off then?" He'd successfully paid Potter back for making him embarrassed, his work was done there. The conversation had been jilted, slightly backward and strange, Draco would have a lot to think about later.
"What's with you and the word 'fuck', Malfoy?" Potter shouted after him.
"I fucking like it!" He shouted back, making his way down the stairs quickly. He left with a small smile on his face and didn't know why.
0-0
End of Chapter 4
Thanks to: yeoldecrazy1, simsari, im-a-daydream-believer, curlytop.
Next chapter: Draco's obsession with the word 'fuck', an explanation for something said in this chapter (vague, I know), Slytherin house and more!