Title: "Democracy's Demise: Pt. 11"
Author: Copper Bandit
Warnings: It's baa-ack! Caution; this has shounen-ai/yaoi/slash!
Disclaim: The Harry Potter books and movies aren't mine. Nor is Tom Felton (*pouts* which is a pity...)
Pre-story A/N: I'm sorry! It's been awhile! The only apology I can offer is excuses. And that makes a pathetic apology.
Harry stood in front of the mirror for an unusually long time that night. He stood only a few feet away from the glass, his green eyes intently focused on his reflection. He was of medium build and a bit on the thin side. His hair was a bit unruly, but several girls had told him before that it was the "attractive sort of unruly". His eyes were green of course, and were behind a reasonable pair of glasses.
He wasn't vain or conceited, but he had been told before on several occasions that he was good-looking, and on one occasion he was even told that he was handsome. He looked critically over his bone structure, critiquing mentally each of his features.
The only thing he was able to conclude was that he wasn't horrid looking in the least. However he was not nearly as handsome as Miko Honta either.
Harry scowled at the mirror, and his reflection scowled back. It just made him more upset with the boy staring back at him. The reflection wasn't good enough for the object of his desires, and neither was he.
He was not good enough for Draco Malfoy.
The look on his face changed from a scowl to contempt. A wave of self-hatred swept through him and he reached out. He grabbed hold of the mirror and pulled it with brutal force to the floor, letting it smash; the metallic sounds of breaking shards ringing in his ears.
The Boy-Who-Lived gazed quietly at the mess on the boy's lavatory floor. Sidestepping the shattered mirror, he walked out calmly, though his fists were clenched tightly at his sides. He was so upset that he had ceased to pay attention to where he was going. Turning an ornately carved knob Harry expected to be walking into his familiar dorm room, however it was not the right dorm room.
Light from the hall spilled into the dimly lit room, illuminating the two figures on the bed. Light skin was pressed against dark, there was the red hair that was so impossible to not notice, and the meeting of lips on lips.
Harry stood stunned in the doorway. The two boys pulled away from each other instantly. "It's not what you think Harry." Lee Jordan said quickly, a bashful look spreading across his face.
"Actually," George began sheepishly contradicting his boyfriend, "it was what you're probably thinking."
"What do you think that I'm thinking?" Harry asked dryly, unsure of what to make of the situation.
George paused, and a red tinge appeared on his face. "That Lee and I were, uh, uh..." He trailed off uncomfortably.
"Making out." Lee supplied, suddenly less bashful.
Harry frowned slowly. "You guys are..." He looked to them, hoping one of them would contribute the appropriate word choice, but both of the older boys avoided eye contact. "Seeing each other?"
"Quite a lot of each other actually." George mumbled, but he was silenced by an embarrassed kick from Lee. George cleared his throat nervously. "You don't think less of us, do you? Well you can't of course," He began to ramble, "seeing as you're like us too."
Harry blinked and looked at them blankly, not understanding.
George cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the situation. He was uncomfortable in situations in which he found himself unable to crack jokes, and this was no exception. "Harry?" He asked, wondering if Harry was mentally in their dimension.
"How long has this been going on?" Harry asked suddenly and unexpectedly.
George and Lee exchanged looks. "Um, I dunno." Lee spoke up. "Maybe a week or so?"
Harry put a hand to his temple, his head was spinning and the throbbing sensation that was growing stronger by the minute was most unbearable. "Does Fred know?"
At the mention of his brother's name George's face immediately fell. "A little too much I suppose." He said, a note of sadness on his voice. Harry looked at him sternly, a silent order for him to explain what he meant, but the redhead shook his head solemnly. "You'll have to ask him about it. I wouldn't tell you unless I know he would be okay with me telling."
This comment puzzled Harry only a little when he first heard it, but as he pondered it latter it began to puzzle him even more, and consequently to irritate him quite a deal.
Lee took George's hand in a quiet but bold gesture. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?" Harry shook his head, to which Lee looked grateful. "Oh thank you. We're not ready to," the young lovers exchanged looks again while Lee paused, "'come out' quite yet."
"I only have one question." Harry began, a small smile forming on his lips. "Is this the reason you two have been skipping around lately?"
The two older boys looked at each other and grinned. "Yeah." George admitted, a goofy look forming across his face.
Harry looked at them. They no longer looked worried or embarrassed. They looked genuinely happy when they looked at each other like that. It was a look of devotion. It was a look of affection. They looked happy. Content. A sudden wave of jealousy washed over Harry. Why could they be allowed to be happy when he was so miserable? The realization of life being unfair struck him hard, and made his heart wrench. He wasn't mad at George or Lee as individuals, but he was mad at what they represented. "Have a good night, I'll see you in the morning." He said quickly through clenched teeth before storming out of the dorm.
Harry walked quickly through the Gryffindor tower hallway, this time taking care to watch where he was going. Intruding on one couple a night was one too many he reckoned. Upon reaching his dorm room he threw open the door and entered, slamming the door shut behind him. The sound of the door echoed through the tower hallway.
In the common room of the tower Collin Creevy was sitting on a large armchair looking at his collection of photographs that had been taken over the course of his four years at Hogwarts. It was quite the large collection, and there were many different subjects. But his prize photos were of course those he had taken of The Boy Who Lived.
A dark haired boy ducked and held up his hands, trying to avoid being photographed. It was the typical Harry picture. Colin looked at it closely. Harry's hair was being lightly ruffled in an unseen breeze and there were tiny people zooming over head on broomsticks. Harry looked grumpy and unhappy, but Collin considered it to be a beautiful picture anyway.
"Collin!" A girl's voice said from the staircase. Collin looked up. It was his classmate Morgan LaFay, a bouncy girl of the same age as him. "Collin, guess what?" She began, speaking a tone of excitement.
"Harry decided he hates Malfoy?" The small boy asked hopefully.
"Ha." She replied sarcastically. "We all wish. But no. But something else." She looked at him expectantly, but continued. "Fine, don't guess. I was just in the hall and I saw him go storming into his dorm room. He slammed the door shut behind him and everything. I think he's in a bad mood."
Collin looked lost for a moment. "Why is this news you think would excite me?"
Morgan sighed exasperatedly. "Harry is unhappy. If he's unhappy how does that mean his love life is going?"
"Miserably!" Collin shouted enthusiastically, understanding his friend's point. "Oh that's just wonderful!" His eyes filling with glee.
His friend nodded happily too. "I know. But-" She paused, suddenly looking less happy. "I feel a little guilty, you know?" Collin looked at her blankly. "Well, I feel guilty because I don't mind admitting that I'm madly in love with him and that I'm positively smitten with him, but I enjoy seeing him miserable? I can't help but think that if I truly loved him I would want to see him happy."
Collin's look changed from being blank to being horrified. "Stop being such a romantic! That's such a Victorian notion! Honestly, that died out ages ago. We don't have to feel like his happiness is foremost in order to be in love with him."
Morgan looked suddenly relieved. "Oh good, because I don't feel bad at all about him being miserable if it means that his love life with Malfoy," she made a face, "is going poorly." She walked over to where Collin was sitting on his bed. "Oh, are those some of your pictures?"
Collin nodded. "Yeah, I was thinking about sorting them into albums, but that would ruin the effect of disorganization that I was striving for."
Morgan smirked. "Whatever." She reached out and began to sort through a stack that was set aside from the majority of the pictures. "Hey, these are all pictures of Harry."
"You're welcome to drool over them if you want with Latisha in the girl's dormitory later." Collin offered generously. "But return them in the morning, I'm rather attached to them and I'd hate to have them out of my possession for more than a few hours."
The girl stood silently looking at one picture in particular. "This is my favorite picture I've seen so far." Morgan remarked.
"Which one is it?" Collin asked.
She tossed it to him and he looked at it. He remembered when he had taken that picture. It was a close-up of Harry of course, and the dark haired boy was smiling and looking at something off toward the right, his green eyes half closed in mid-laugh. It had been taken on regular Muggle film, so the image of a happy Harry was frozen for eternity in Collin Creevy's.
"It's one of the few where he actually looks happy. Why is that, Collin?" Morgan asked her friend.
"Hm?" Collin looked up. "What did you say?"
She sighed, but repeated herself. "Why is that one of the few pictures where he looks happy? All the others he's trying to not be in the picture, he'll have his hands up or be trying to duck out of it. That or he stands there looking glum. But in that one he looks happy."
"I zoomed in a whole bunch, he didn't know that I was taking it. He was with Ron and Hermione and his other friends, if I recall correctly." Collin told her as he studied the picture. He frowned at the photograph in his hands suddenly. "He looks so happy here. And handsome. You know he looks much handsomer when he smiles, so I do wish he'd stop being so moody as he's been recently and be happier more."
Morgan snatched the picture from Collin's hands. "Actually he looks much handsomer when he isn't on that detestable Muggle film. He looks handsomer when he's moving. I'll never understand your silly Muggle traditions. Non-moving film? That's so blah." She smiled in spite of herself.
Collin pretended to look hurt. "It's Kodak film, what more could you ask for?"
"A lot actually." Morgan said as she began to walk toward the stairwell. She blew him a rather sarcastic kiss. "G'night Collin, and don't fret your head off, I'll be sure to have these pictures back by the morning, or whenever Latisha and I are done with them at least."
Harry lay in bed. He was troubled. Around him was the sound of sleep, which was manifested by the loud, deep breathing sounds of his roommates. But Harry had resisted sleep's alluring call. His mind wasn't focused on visions of sugarplums dancing or numbered sheep, it was instead elsewhere.
"I wouldn't tell you unless I know he would be okay with me telling."
Now what was that supposed to mean? Harry pondered over the words, puzzled. The only logical conclusion to be drawn seemed to be that Fred had some sort of secret that he, Harry, did not know. And that George didn't want to be the one to tell Fred's secret to him.
Fred having a secret upset Harry a little. Before recently Harry had never considered himself to be close to the redhead. They were friends, but they weren't as terribly close as he was with Ron and Hermione. But due to strong circumstances Fred had acquired knowledge of one of his secrets, which he hadn't told Ron and Hermione about. And since then they had seemed to be closer.
And Harry had the nagging feeling that this secret either had something to do with him, or that it would at least interest him in some way.
Harry bolted upright in his bed. He had to go talk to Fred. Right now. There was no question about it or concern as to the hour; he had made up his mind.
He tossed off his sheets and slipped into the pair of slippers that were beside his bed. After putting on a robe he walked silently out of the fifth year dormitory.
It was just a short way down the hall that the seventh year boys' dormitory was located. Harry remembered where it was, after all, he had been there just a few hours prior.
He entered the room, taking great care to try not to make to much noise when he turned the doorknob and opened the massive oak door. As he stood in the dimly lit room he realized he had a problem. The curtains were drawn on all the beds, and he didn't want to go around looking into each person's bed. That was a bit too intrusive for his taste.
Instead he walked silently around the room, looking for clues as to which bed could be Fred's. As luck would have it, there was a sweater draped over the trunk that was in front of one of the beds. It was a sweater that Harry recognized immediately as a Weasley sweater. And upon closer inspection of the garment it had an "F" across the chest of it.
Harry took a deep breath, reminding himself why he had come there, and drew back a curtain. There was nothing. No one was in the bed, least of all the person he had come to find. The sheets were rumpled however, and it seemed to Harry that Fred must be up and about somewhere.
He considered going back to his dorm room and going to sleep, but his curious side had gotten the better of him and he really wanted to find out as soon as possible what Fred's secret was. So naturally a better idea than just going back to bed came to mind. Why not use the Marauder's Map? Harry wondered.
Taking care to close the door as quietly as he had opened it, Harry hurried out of the seventh year dorm room and headed back to his own. He had just walked into his room and was headed toward his trunk where the Marauder's Map was safely stored when he felt something give under his foot. There was a sudden hiss and then his feet gave out from under him and he felt himself fall.
"Harry?" A distant voice called. "Harry?" The same voice called again, this time sounding closer. He was suddenly aware of an acute pain that seemed to be radiating from somewhere in his head. He groaned weakly.
Someone was shaking his shoulder. "Harry?" The voice called again. "Wake up mate!" He began to open his eyes slowly. Mistake. The bright light seemed to make the pain in his head grow even greater. "Earth to Harry." The voice called yet again.
"What is it?" He mumbled sleepily, scrunching his eyes shut.
"Oh Harry, I'm glad you're okay." The voice, which sounded suspiciously like Ron, said cheerfully. "How'd this happen?"
"What?" Harry tried opening his eyes again. This time the effect wasn't so bad. After a moment he was able to make out that there was a person standing over him. "Ron?"
There was the distinct sound of someone laughing, which made Harry feel even more grouchy than he had a moment ago, if that was even possible. If he felt miserable and had a headache the size of a woolly mammoth then every one else had no right to feel any differently, let alone laugh at this hour in the morning.
Harry groaned and reached to pull the blankets up over his head. It was at this point that Harry realized that there were no blankets. It was also at this point that Harry became aware for the first time that he was laying on the floor. He groaned again. To his experience it was never a good sign for the rest of the day when one found one's self sleeping on the floor.
He attempted to sit up, but immediately went back to laying on the floor. "Ron, why am I not okay?"
The redhead shrugged. "I dunno. Seems like you went and tripped, and then you landed flat out on your face. Probably knocked you out. You don't remember?"
Harry shook his head no, but then switched to nodding. "Yes, I remember. Well, sort of. It was late and I went to ask your brother a question, but he wasn't there and then I came in to go back to bed I think, and something happened and I don't remember."
"My brother?" Ron asked, curious. "Which one?"
"Fred, I think." Harry said slowly. It should be illegal to ask questions to someone with a headache he decided. "Yes, I'm pretty sure it was Fred."
"What did you need to ask my brother that was so important that you had to ask in the middle of the night. Was it so important that you couldn't have waited till the morning?" Ron asked, slightly amused and still very curious.
Oh, how he hated being interrogated when he had a headache! But seeing as Ron was his friend Harry decided to try and answer his question. But he couldn't. "I..." He struggled to find the memory at all. "I, I'm sorry Ron, I simply can't recall quite what I was going to ask at all."
"See? It obviously wasn't so important that you couldn't wait till morning." Ron smiled widely. "Now what do you say I help you off that hard old floor and you and I head down to breakfast? We can probably catch up to the others."
Harry looked around. He just then realized none of his other roommates were present. "They're not here?" He asked, slightly puzzled.
"Well, at first we thought you were sleeping on the floor just to sleep on the floor. Or for some reason that we weren't aware of. But the point is that we thought you had a reason." Ron explained. "So the other boys said they'd go on to breakfast and I told them I'd wait for you and we'd meet them down there."
Harry smiled weakly. "That was nice of you Ron."
Ron flashed Harry a grin and puffed out his chest. "Well, what can I say? I'm just an extremely nice guy." He said with mock arrogance.
Harry snorted. "Uh-huh. Mr. Humble I presume." He beckoned for Ron to continue.
"Well anyway, I started getting worried about you so that's when I decided I'd try to wake you up. And that's when you woke up." Ron finished. "So you reckon you tripped and were knocked out?"
"Yeah." Harry nodded. "I probably tripped over Crookshanks. I seem to remember a hiss which sounded awfully like him." A sudden surge of pain reminded him of his headache. "That darn cat." He cursed. "Can't stay out of people's ways sometimes."
Ron smirked. "You know I always said that cat was no good."
Harry made a face. "Don't get started on that again. First off the cat had the intelligence to recognize Sirius, and secondly the cat belongs to Hermione, need I remind you? Get mad at the cat and she'll be mad at you."
"Well you're no fun." He pouted.
"Yes, I know." Harry smiled. "Now for some more no-fun how would you like to accompany me to the infirmary on the way to breakfast? I need a potion to take away this horrid headache or I'll simply explode."
Breakfast was halfway over by the time Ron and Harry entered the Great Hall, and all the eggs were cold. But Harry, who was past the point of caring about the temperature of his food, ate the eggs anyway. Ron, who still cared about the temperature of his food, complained about the temperature of the said food, but ate some of it anyway.
It was while the two boys were eating eggs that Dumbledore stood up from his seat at the faculty table and the room fell silent as the students took notice that he was about to make an announcement.
"As you all know," Dumbledore began, "there is a dance fast approaching us. However I'm sure that not to many of you know quite how fast it is approaching us, with the exception being the Divination students." He said, winking at Professor Trelawny (who was making one of her rare meal appearances). Harry's eyes were immediately drawn to rest on Miko Honta, who was sitting at the Ravenclaw table with a group of upper- classmen, upon the mention of Divination students.
Dumbledore continued. "Because of the difficulty that we have been having booking entertainment, the dance will have to be this weekend." There was a wave of excited murmurs that passed across the house tables.
Hermione however was not too excited looking. "This weekend? I have an alchemy paper due Monday!" She complained. Ron gave her a look though and held a finger to his mouth to shush her.
"The entertainment will be a surprise of course." Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eyes. "I do love surprises." He paused, apparently caught in a moment of deep thought. His brows, which had been furrowed in concentration, suddenly straightened. "That is all." He finished, sitting back down in his chair.
"That's so great!" Ginny exclaimed from a few seats down. "Though that does give me less time to find a date." She said slyly, throwing a look of longing at Seamus. The Irish boy was too involved with his food to notice Ginny's hints however and her efforts were wasted.
Harry poked a biscuit on his plate bitterly. He had not wanted to remember the dance. Because the dance reminded him of a certain Mr. Malfoy who he was required to dance with. The thought made him pale for two main reasons.
The first reason was that he had no experience whatsoever in the matter of dancing with males. He had on occasion danced with people of the female variety, but those occasions were few and far between. Not to mention that he wasn't even good at dancing with girls, so it didn't seem possible that he could be good when it came to boys. He had only recently been able to accept the fact that he was attracted to boys, but the thought of dancing with a boy? The thought made him uncomfortable.
The second reason was the more major factor that was responsible for his general discomfort regarding the subject of the dance with Malfoy. And that was that in order to dance with Malfoy he had to dance with Malfoy. Anything that had to do with Malfoy was something he would rather avoid after the heartbreaking rejection he had gone through. It hurt. It wasn't that he was in love per say, but he was certainly attracted to Malfoy, and even more certain was the fact that he had been rejected.
Harry bit his lip. He had never considered himself arrogant or conceited, but fact that he had been rejected bothered him almost as much as the fact that the person he was attracted to despised him. Malfoy definitely did despise him. In fact, Malfoy had even said it himself that he hated him.
He wanted to forget. He wanted to go back. He wanted to go back and make sure none of this could have ever happened. He hated it. He hated the whole situation. He hated Malfoy too. He hated Malfoy for getting him into this situation. He hated Malfoy for being so darn attractive. He hated Malfoy for being so attractive that he actually began to be attracted to him. He was attracted to him. He liked him.
"Harry?" Ron asked, nudging his buddy. "Your lip is bleeding."
Harry blinked, now aware that he had been zoned out. "Oh," he replied, putting a finger to his lip to confirm to himself that it was indeed bleeding. "Hmm. You know what? I'm suddenly not feeling too well. I think I'll just go up to the dorm to rest for a bit."
"Well don't be late to Charms." Hermione reminded him as he got up from his seat at the house table. "It's our first class today."
Harry nodded absent-mindedly, not listening, and proceeded to walk out of the Great Hall in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. Ron watched his friend walk out, his eyes filled with concern.
He turned towards Hermione. "You know, I've been worried about Harry lately. He's been acting so... oddly." He said, trying to keep his voice low so that those seated around them wouldn't overhear.
Hermione sighed. "Does this have anything to do with a certain person whom he happens to have a crush on?"
Ron wrinkled up his nose. "Ew no, don't remind me Hermione! I've been trying to be pleasant about that subject when he's around, and I've been sort of alright so far I reckon. I don't want to loose our friendship over that! But please do my sanity a favor and not mention or even allude to that dolt! The very thought of him makes me mad!"
Hermione smiled slightly. "Well then what would you reckon has been strange about Harry lately?"
"Well," Ron paused, trying to decide what exactly had been strange, "I can't say. I haven't been able to quite put my finger on what precisely it is, but he just seems to be behaving peculiarly lately, haven't you noticed?"
A smile formed across Hermione's face. "Oh Ron!" She giggled. "I thought you were going to say something was actually wrong with Harry. That you were worried about him for some sort of reason that was actually valid."
Ron frowned. "What? You don't believe me?"
"It's not that," Hermione said, still smiling, "it's just that it's not unnatural for teenaged boys to go through the kind of emotions that Harry's been going through lately. You only think he's behaving strangely because it seems strange to you. Ron, Harry's just starting to grow up."
Ron pouted and folded his arms across his chest. "Are you saying that I'm immature?" He accused.
Hermione grinned. "No, of course not. Though you should know that you look terribly child-like with your arms like that." Ron's frown deepened and he immediately uncrossed his arms. Hermione laughed. "But it looks cute like that as well as looking child-like."
Ron brightened a little at that. "So you don't think that something's wrong with Harry?"
She shook her head. "Nah. He's just being a boy. Boys are weird sometimes. Well, most of the time."
"And girls aren't?" Ron asked, agitated.
Hermione's eyes lit up. "Oh, are you jealous because you haven't found yourself a date to the dance yet?"
"How do you know that I haven't?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes. "I might have and didn't tell you that I had."
She smirked. "Ron, if you had found a date you wouldn't be able to stop talking about it. And since I've heard no mention of it that's how I know you haven't found one yet." She became suddenly sympathetic. "But don't feel bad, there's still time. And if you want I could set you up with one of my girlfriends."
The look on Ron's face told her that he wasn't particularly thrilled with that possibility. "Gee, I wouldn't want to put you through all that trouble."
Hermione beamed. She was going to have ~fun~ with this! "Oh, no trouble at all! In fact I'd be glad to!"
"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Ron moaned as he realized he was now committed. Once Hermione had a plan she stuck with it. And from the look on her face it seemed as though there was something about this plan that she wasn't telling him. And that naturally worried him a great deal...
Author's notes:
Heh. I'm sure you're all wondering where I was and what the heck I was thinking "ignoring" this story for over a month. Well I was busy with something in particular, but now I'm done so I can devote my time to this! The end is in sight, I can't for sure say how many more chapters there will be.
been busy (then again, almost all of us have), and I was in a bad mood for a long time (but now I'm out of my slump. Or so I think). And I've had school work. And... Well, I really can't say much else without being really obnoxious, and no one wants to hear me babble too much anyway.
Despite that, I'm going to babble some more anyway. I plan on aiming at one chapter a week, which seems do-able for now. PLEASE FORGIVE ME! *wacks self with stick* I've been bad, I know. Most people (Or Myra at least) are sitting there thinking: "Why is she offering excuses and trying to make it sound like she had better things to do? She's just LAZY!" But that's not entirely true. And I do promise to be better though from now on.
Two British literature works (other than HP!) that have inspired me lately:
(1) "The Importance of Being Earnest". I saw it performed by a local college recently. I love the story, it's great! I'm psyched for the movie.
(2) "Maquerade" by Kit Williams. I know it's a picture book, but it's the best! Every time I read it, it intrigues me more.
I'm going to stop babbling and start making sense again.
I've read two HP fics lately that are amazing! The first one is "Unthinkable Thoughts" by Adian Lynch. It's a HP/DM, and it's really good. Thank you thank you thank you for recommending it to me Miyama Ishida!! Everyone except for Myra should go read it, each chapter is better than the last!
The second one is "The Losing Side" by Antenora. It's a HP/DM too, and it's very dark, but way good. It's so lovely that I even had it stuck floating in my head so I ended up doing a fanart of it. Am I ever going to mail it to the great and mighty Antenora? Um, no. I haven't mastered my watercolors yet.
Major thank yous are in order! Here goes: Marionette, Night Spirit, Miyama Ishida, Lina Inverse the Dramata, Sorceress Jade, Queen Strata, Ambrosius, SoulSister, Pasty (who I'm way indebted to!), Myra ("Where's chapter twenty?"), and everyone who I forgot, because I'm way grateful to all my reviewers. Even if I forgot to mention you by name (I'm an idiot, I apologize) I still love you.
I need constructive criticism.
Random quote time!
"They told me I was gullible, and I believed them."
Author: Copper Bandit
Warnings: It's baa-ack! Caution; this has shounen-ai/yaoi/slash!
Disclaim: The Harry Potter books and movies aren't mine. Nor is Tom Felton (*pouts* which is a pity...)
Pre-story A/N: I'm sorry! It's been awhile! The only apology I can offer is excuses. And that makes a pathetic apology.
Harry stood in front of the mirror for an unusually long time that night. He stood only a few feet away from the glass, his green eyes intently focused on his reflection. He was of medium build and a bit on the thin side. His hair was a bit unruly, but several girls had told him before that it was the "attractive sort of unruly". His eyes were green of course, and were behind a reasonable pair of glasses.
He wasn't vain or conceited, but he had been told before on several occasions that he was good-looking, and on one occasion he was even told that he was handsome. He looked critically over his bone structure, critiquing mentally each of his features.
The only thing he was able to conclude was that he wasn't horrid looking in the least. However he was not nearly as handsome as Miko Honta either.
Harry scowled at the mirror, and his reflection scowled back. It just made him more upset with the boy staring back at him. The reflection wasn't good enough for the object of his desires, and neither was he.
He was not good enough for Draco Malfoy.
The look on his face changed from a scowl to contempt. A wave of self-hatred swept through him and he reached out. He grabbed hold of the mirror and pulled it with brutal force to the floor, letting it smash; the metallic sounds of breaking shards ringing in his ears.
The Boy-Who-Lived gazed quietly at the mess on the boy's lavatory floor. Sidestepping the shattered mirror, he walked out calmly, though his fists were clenched tightly at his sides. He was so upset that he had ceased to pay attention to where he was going. Turning an ornately carved knob Harry expected to be walking into his familiar dorm room, however it was not the right dorm room.
Light from the hall spilled into the dimly lit room, illuminating the two figures on the bed. Light skin was pressed against dark, there was the red hair that was so impossible to not notice, and the meeting of lips on lips.
Harry stood stunned in the doorway. The two boys pulled away from each other instantly. "It's not what you think Harry." Lee Jordan said quickly, a bashful look spreading across his face.
"Actually," George began sheepishly contradicting his boyfriend, "it was what you're probably thinking."
"What do you think that I'm thinking?" Harry asked dryly, unsure of what to make of the situation.
George paused, and a red tinge appeared on his face. "That Lee and I were, uh, uh..." He trailed off uncomfortably.
"Making out." Lee supplied, suddenly less bashful.
Harry frowned slowly. "You guys are..." He looked to them, hoping one of them would contribute the appropriate word choice, but both of the older boys avoided eye contact. "Seeing each other?"
"Quite a lot of each other actually." George mumbled, but he was silenced by an embarrassed kick from Lee. George cleared his throat nervously. "You don't think less of us, do you? Well you can't of course," He began to ramble, "seeing as you're like us too."
Harry blinked and looked at them blankly, not understanding.
George cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the situation. He was uncomfortable in situations in which he found himself unable to crack jokes, and this was no exception. "Harry?" He asked, wondering if Harry was mentally in their dimension.
"How long has this been going on?" Harry asked suddenly and unexpectedly.
George and Lee exchanged looks. "Um, I dunno." Lee spoke up. "Maybe a week or so?"
Harry put a hand to his temple, his head was spinning and the throbbing sensation that was growing stronger by the minute was most unbearable. "Does Fred know?"
At the mention of his brother's name George's face immediately fell. "A little too much I suppose." He said, a note of sadness on his voice. Harry looked at him sternly, a silent order for him to explain what he meant, but the redhead shook his head solemnly. "You'll have to ask him about it. I wouldn't tell you unless I know he would be okay with me telling."
This comment puzzled Harry only a little when he first heard it, but as he pondered it latter it began to puzzle him even more, and consequently to irritate him quite a deal.
Lee took George's hand in a quiet but bold gesture. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?" Harry shook his head, to which Lee looked grateful. "Oh thank you. We're not ready to," the young lovers exchanged looks again while Lee paused, "'come out' quite yet."
"I only have one question." Harry began, a small smile forming on his lips. "Is this the reason you two have been skipping around lately?"
The two older boys looked at each other and grinned. "Yeah." George admitted, a goofy look forming across his face.
Harry looked at them. They no longer looked worried or embarrassed. They looked genuinely happy when they looked at each other like that. It was a look of devotion. It was a look of affection. They looked happy. Content. A sudden wave of jealousy washed over Harry. Why could they be allowed to be happy when he was so miserable? The realization of life being unfair struck him hard, and made his heart wrench. He wasn't mad at George or Lee as individuals, but he was mad at what they represented. "Have a good night, I'll see you in the morning." He said quickly through clenched teeth before storming out of the dorm.
Harry walked quickly through the Gryffindor tower hallway, this time taking care to watch where he was going. Intruding on one couple a night was one too many he reckoned. Upon reaching his dorm room he threw open the door and entered, slamming the door shut behind him. The sound of the door echoed through the tower hallway.
In the common room of the tower Collin Creevy was sitting on a large armchair looking at his collection of photographs that had been taken over the course of his four years at Hogwarts. It was quite the large collection, and there were many different subjects. But his prize photos were of course those he had taken of The Boy Who Lived.
A dark haired boy ducked and held up his hands, trying to avoid being photographed. It was the typical Harry picture. Colin looked at it closely. Harry's hair was being lightly ruffled in an unseen breeze and there were tiny people zooming over head on broomsticks. Harry looked grumpy and unhappy, but Collin considered it to be a beautiful picture anyway.
"Collin!" A girl's voice said from the staircase. Collin looked up. It was his classmate Morgan LaFay, a bouncy girl of the same age as him. "Collin, guess what?" She began, speaking a tone of excitement.
"Harry decided he hates Malfoy?" The small boy asked hopefully.
"Ha." She replied sarcastically. "We all wish. But no. But something else." She looked at him expectantly, but continued. "Fine, don't guess. I was just in the hall and I saw him go storming into his dorm room. He slammed the door shut behind him and everything. I think he's in a bad mood."
Collin looked lost for a moment. "Why is this news you think would excite me?"
Morgan sighed exasperatedly. "Harry is unhappy. If he's unhappy how does that mean his love life is going?"
"Miserably!" Collin shouted enthusiastically, understanding his friend's point. "Oh that's just wonderful!" His eyes filling with glee.
His friend nodded happily too. "I know. But-" She paused, suddenly looking less happy. "I feel a little guilty, you know?" Collin looked at her blankly. "Well, I feel guilty because I don't mind admitting that I'm madly in love with him and that I'm positively smitten with him, but I enjoy seeing him miserable? I can't help but think that if I truly loved him I would want to see him happy."
Collin's look changed from being blank to being horrified. "Stop being such a romantic! That's such a Victorian notion! Honestly, that died out ages ago. We don't have to feel like his happiness is foremost in order to be in love with him."
Morgan looked suddenly relieved. "Oh good, because I don't feel bad at all about him being miserable if it means that his love life with Malfoy," she made a face, "is going poorly." She walked over to where Collin was sitting on his bed. "Oh, are those some of your pictures?"
Collin nodded. "Yeah, I was thinking about sorting them into albums, but that would ruin the effect of disorganization that I was striving for."
Morgan smirked. "Whatever." She reached out and began to sort through a stack that was set aside from the majority of the pictures. "Hey, these are all pictures of Harry."
"You're welcome to drool over them if you want with Latisha in the girl's dormitory later." Collin offered generously. "But return them in the morning, I'm rather attached to them and I'd hate to have them out of my possession for more than a few hours."
The girl stood silently looking at one picture in particular. "This is my favorite picture I've seen so far." Morgan remarked.
"Which one is it?" Collin asked.
She tossed it to him and he looked at it. He remembered when he had taken that picture. It was a close-up of Harry of course, and the dark haired boy was smiling and looking at something off toward the right, his green eyes half closed in mid-laugh. It had been taken on regular Muggle film, so the image of a happy Harry was frozen for eternity in Collin Creevy's.
"It's one of the few where he actually looks happy. Why is that, Collin?" Morgan asked her friend.
"Hm?" Collin looked up. "What did you say?"
She sighed, but repeated herself. "Why is that one of the few pictures where he looks happy? All the others he's trying to not be in the picture, he'll have his hands up or be trying to duck out of it. That or he stands there looking glum. But in that one he looks happy."
"I zoomed in a whole bunch, he didn't know that I was taking it. He was with Ron and Hermione and his other friends, if I recall correctly." Collin told her as he studied the picture. He frowned at the photograph in his hands suddenly. "He looks so happy here. And handsome. You know he looks much handsomer when he smiles, so I do wish he'd stop being so moody as he's been recently and be happier more."
Morgan snatched the picture from Collin's hands. "Actually he looks much handsomer when he isn't on that detestable Muggle film. He looks handsomer when he's moving. I'll never understand your silly Muggle traditions. Non-moving film? That's so blah." She smiled in spite of herself.
Collin pretended to look hurt. "It's Kodak film, what more could you ask for?"
"A lot actually." Morgan said as she began to walk toward the stairwell. She blew him a rather sarcastic kiss. "G'night Collin, and don't fret your head off, I'll be sure to have these pictures back by the morning, or whenever Latisha and I are done with them at least."
Harry lay in bed. He was troubled. Around him was the sound of sleep, which was manifested by the loud, deep breathing sounds of his roommates. But Harry had resisted sleep's alluring call. His mind wasn't focused on visions of sugarplums dancing or numbered sheep, it was instead elsewhere.
"I wouldn't tell you unless I know he would be okay with me telling."
Now what was that supposed to mean? Harry pondered over the words, puzzled. The only logical conclusion to be drawn seemed to be that Fred had some sort of secret that he, Harry, did not know. And that George didn't want to be the one to tell Fred's secret to him.
Fred having a secret upset Harry a little. Before recently Harry had never considered himself to be close to the redhead. They were friends, but they weren't as terribly close as he was with Ron and Hermione. But due to strong circumstances Fred had acquired knowledge of one of his secrets, which he hadn't told Ron and Hermione about. And since then they had seemed to be closer.
And Harry had the nagging feeling that this secret either had something to do with him, or that it would at least interest him in some way.
Harry bolted upright in his bed. He had to go talk to Fred. Right now. There was no question about it or concern as to the hour; he had made up his mind.
He tossed off his sheets and slipped into the pair of slippers that were beside his bed. After putting on a robe he walked silently out of the fifth year dormitory.
It was just a short way down the hall that the seventh year boys' dormitory was located. Harry remembered where it was, after all, he had been there just a few hours prior.
He entered the room, taking great care to try not to make to much noise when he turned the doorknob and opened the massive oak door. As he stood in the dimly lit room he realized he had a problem. The curtains were drawn on all the beds, and he didn't want to go around looking into each person's bed. That was a bit too intrusive for his taste.
Instead he walked silently around the room, looking for clues as to which bed could be Fred's. As luck would have it, there was a sweater draped over the trunk that was in front of one of the beds. It was a sweater that Harry recognized immediately as a Weasley sweater. And upon closer inspection of the garment it had an "F" across the chest of it.
Harry took a deep breath, reminding himself why he had come there, and drew back a curtain. There was nothing. No one was in the bed, least of all the person he had come to find. The sheets were rumpled however, and it seemed to Harry that Fred must be up and about somewhere.
He considered going back to his dorm room and going to sleep, but his curious side had gotten the better of him and he really wanted to find out as soon as possible what Fred's secret was. So naturally a better idea than just going back to bed came to mind. Why not use the Marauder's Map? Harry wondered.
Taking care to close the door as quietly as he had opened it, Harry hurried out of the seventh year dorm room and headed back to his own. He had just walked into his room and was headed toward his trunk where the Marauder's Map was safely stored when he felt something give under his foot. There was a sudden hiss and then his feet gave out from under him and he felt himself fall.
"Harry?" A distant voice called. "Harry?" The same voice called again, this time sounding closer. He was suddenly aware of an acute pain that seemed to be radiating from somewhere in his head. He groaned weakly.
Someone was shaking his shoulder. "Harry?" The voice called again. "Wake up mate!" He began to open his eyes slowly. Mistake. The bright light seemed to make the pain in his head grow even greater. "Earth to Harry." The voice called yet again.
"What is it?" He mumbled sleepily, scrunching his eyes shut.
"Oh Harry, I'm glad you're okay." The voice, which sounded suspiciously like Ron, said cheerfully. "How'd this happen?"
"What?" Harry tried opening his eyes again. This time the effect wasn't so bad. After a moment he was able to make out that there was a person standing over him. "Ron?"
There was the distinct sound of someone laughing, which made Harry feel even more grouchy than he had a moment ago, if that was even possible. If he felt miserable and had a headache the size of a woolly mammoth then every one else had no right to feel any differently, let alone laugh at this hour in the morning.
Harry groaned and reached to pull the blankets up over his head. It was at this point that Harry realized that there were no blankets. It was also at this point that Harry became aware for the first time that he was laying on the floor. He groaned again. To his experience it was never a good sign for the rest of the day when one found one's self sleeping on the floor.
He attempted to sit up, but immediately went back to laying on the floor. "Ron, why am I not okay?"
The redhead shrugged. "I dunno. Seems like you went and tripped, and then you landed flat out on your face. Probably knocked you out. You don't remember?"
Harry shook his head no, but then switched to nodding. "Yes, I remember. Well, sort of. It was late and I went to ask your brother a question, but he wasn't there and then I came in to go back to bed I think, and something happened and I don't remember."
"My brother?" Ron asked, curious. "Which one?"
"Fred, I think." Harry said slowly. It should be illegal to ask questions to someone with a headache he decided. "Yes, I'm pretty sure it was Fred."
"What did you need to ask my brother that was so important that you had to ask in the middle of the night. Was it so important that you couldn't have waited till the morning?" Ron asked, slightly amused and still very curious.
Oh, how he hated being interrogated when he had a headache! But seeing as Ron was his friend Harry decided to try and answer his question. But he couldn't. "I..." He struggled to find the memory at all. "I, I'm sorry Ron, I simply can't recall quite what I was going to ask at all."
"See? It obviously wasn't so important that you couldn't wait till morning." Ron smiled widely. "Now what do you say I help you off that hard old floor and you and I head down to breakfast? We can probably catch up to the others."
Harry looked around. He just then realized none of his other roommates were present. "They're not here?" He asked, slightly puzzled.
"Well, at first we thought you were sleeping on the floor just to sleep on the floor. Or for some reason that we weren't aware of. But the point is that we thought you had a reason." Ron explained. "So the other boys said they'd go on to breakfast and I told them I'd wait for you and we'd meet them down there."
Harry smiled weakly. "That was nice of you Ron."
Ron flashed Harry a grin and puffed out his chest. "Well, what can I say? I'm just an extremely nice guy." He said with mock arrogance.
Harry snorted. "Uh-huh. Mr. Humble I presume." He beckoned for Ron to continue.
"Well anyway, I started getting worried about you so that's when I decided I'd try to wake you up. And that's when you woke up." Ron finished. "So you reckon you tripped and were knocked out?"
"Yeah." Harry nodded. "I probably tripped over Crookshanks. I seem to remember a hiss which sounded awfully like him." A sudden surge of pain reminded him of his headache. "That darn cat." He cursed. "Can't stay out of people's ways sometimes."
Ron smirked. "You know I always said that cat was no good."
Harry made a face. "Don't get started on that again. First off the cat had the intelligence to recognize Sirius, and secondly the cat belongs to Hermione, need I remind you? Get mad at the cat and she'll be mad at you."
"Well you're no fun." He pouted.
"Yes, I know." Harry smiled. "Now for some more no-fun how would you like to accompany me to the infirmary on the way to breakfast? I need a potion to take away this horrid headache or I'll simply explode."
Breakfast was halfway over by the time Ron and Harry entered the Great Hall, and all the eggs were cold. But Harry, who was past the point of caring about the temperature of his food, ate the eggs anyway. Ron, who still cared about the temperature of his food, complained about the temperature of the said food, but ate some of it anyway.
It was while the two boys were eating eggs that Dumbledore stood up from his seat at the faculty table and the room fell silent as the students took notice that he was about to make an announcement.
"As you all know," Dumbledore began, "there is a dance fast approaching us. However I'm sure that not to many of you know quite how fast it is approaching us, with the exception being the Divination students." He said, winking at Professor Trelawny (who was making one of her rare meal appearances). Harry's eyes were immediately drawn to rest on Miko Honta, who was sitting at the Ravenclaw table with a group of upper- classmen, upon the mention of Divination students.
Dumbledore continued. "Because of the difficulty that we have been having booking entertainment, the dance will have to be this weekend." There was a wave of excited murmurs that passed across the house tables.
Hermione however was not too excited looking. "This weekend? I have an alchemy paper due Monday!" She complained. Ron gave her a look though and held a finger to his mouth to shush her.
"The entertainment will be a surprise of course." Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eyes. "I do love surprises." He paused, apparently caught in a moment of deep thought. His brows, which had been furrowed in concentration, suddenly straightened. "That is all." He finished, sitting back down in his chair.
"That's so great!" Ginny exclaimed from a few seats down. "Though that does give me less time to find a date." She said slyly, throwing a look of longing at Seamus. The Irish boy was too involved with his food to notice Ginny's hints however and her efforts were wasted.
Harry poked a biscuit on his plate bitterly. He had not wanted to remember the dance. Because the dance reminded him of a certain Mr. Malfoy who he was required to dance with. The thought made him pale for two main reasons.
The first reason was that he had no experience whatsoever in the matter of dancing with males. He had on occasion danced with people of the female variety, but those occasions were few and far between. Not to mention that he wasn't even good at dancing with girls, so it didn't seem possible that he could be good when it came to boys. He had only recently been able to accept the fact that he was attracted to boys, but the thought of dancing with a boy? The thought made him uncomfortable.
The second reason was the more major factor that was responsible for his general discomfort regarding the subject of the dance with Malfoy. And that was that in order to dance with Malfoy he had to dance with Malfoy. Anything that had to do with Malfoy was something he would rather avoid after the heartbreaking rejection he had gone through. It hurt. It wasn't that he was in love per say, but he was certainly attracted to Malfoy, and even more certain was the fact that he had been rejected.
Harry bit his lip. He had never considered himself arrogant or conceited, but fact that he had been rejected bothered him almost as much as the fact that the person he was attracted to despised him. Malfoy definitely did despise him. In fact, Malfoy had even said it himself that he hated him.
He wanted to forget. He wanted to go back. He wanted to go back and make sure none of this could have ever happened. He hated it. He hated the whole situation. He hated Malfoy too. He hated Malfoy for getting him into this situation. He hated Malfoy for being so darn attractive. He hated Malfoy for being so attractive that he actually began to be attracted to him. He was attracted to him. He liked him.
"Harry?" Ron asked, nudging his buddy. "Your lip is bleeding."
Harry blinked, now aware that he had been zoned out. "Oh," he replied, putting a finger to his lip to confirm to himself that it was indeed bleeding. "Hmm. You know what? I'm suddenly not feeling too well. I think I'll just go up to the dorm to rest for a bit."
"Well don't be late to Charms." Hermione reminded him as he got up from his seat at the house table. "It's our first class today."
Harry nodded absent-mindedly, not listening, and proceeded to walk out of the Great Hall in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. Ron watched his friend walk out, his eyes filled with concern.
He turned towards Hermione. "You know, I've been worried about Harry lately. He's been acting so... oddly." He said, trying to keep his voice low so that those seated around them wouldn't overhear.
Hermione sighed. "Does this have anything to do with a certain person whom he happens to have a crush on?"
Ron wrinkled up his nose. "Ew no, don't remind me Hermione! I've been trying to be pleasant about that subject when he's around, and I've been sort of alright so far I reckon. I don't want to loose our friendship over that! But please do my sanity a favor and not mention or even allude to that dolt! The very thought of him makes me mad!"
Hermione smiled slightly. "Well then what would you reckon has been strange about Harry lately?"
"Well," Ron paused, trying to decide what exactly had been strange, "I can't say. I haven't been able to quite put my finger on what precisely it is, but he just seems to be behaving peculiarly lately, haven't you noticed?"
A smile formed across Hermione's face. "Oh Ron!" She giggled. "I thought you were going to say something was actually wrong with Harry. That you were worried about him for some sort of reason that was actually valid."
Ron frowned. "What? You don't believe me?"
"It's not that," Hermione said, still smiling, "it's just that it's not unnatural for teenaged boys to go through the kind of emotions that Harry's been going through lately. You only think he's behaving strangely because it seems strange to you. Ron, Harry's just starting to grow up."
Ron pouted and folded his arms across his chest. "Are you saying that I'm immature?" He accused.
Hermione grinned. "No, of course not. Though you should know that you look terribly child-like with your arms like that." Ron's frown deepened and he immediately uncrossed his arms. Hermione laughed. "But it looks cute like that as well as looking child-like."
Ron brightened a little at that. "So you don't think that something's wrong with Harry?"
She shook her head. "Nah. He's just being a boy. Boys are weird sometimes. Well, most of the time."
"And girls aren't?" Ron asked, agitated.
Hermione's eyes lit up. "Oh, are you jealous because you haven't found yourself a date to the dance yet?"
"How do you know that I haven't?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes. "I might have and didn't tell you that I had."
She smirked. "Ron, if you had found a date you wouldn't be able to stop talking about it. And since I've heard no mention of it that's how I know you haven't found one yet." She became suddenly sympathetic. "But don't feel bad, there's still time. And if you want I could set you up with one of my girlfriends."
The look on Ron's face told her that he wasn't particularly thrilled with that possibility. "Gee, I wouldn't want to put you through all that trouble."
Hermione beamed. She was going to have ~fun~ with this! "Oh, no trouble at all! In fact I'd be glad to!"
"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Ron moaned as he realized he was now committed. Once Hermione had a plan she stuck with it. And from the look on her face it seemed as though there was something about this plan that she wasn't telling him. And that naturally worried him a great deal...
Author's notes:
Heh. I'm sure you're all wondering where I was and what the heck I was thinking "ignoring" this story for over a month. Well I was busy with something in particular, but now I'm done so I can devote my time to this! The end is in sight, I can't for sure say how many more chapters there will be.
been busy (then again, almost all of us have), and I was in a bad mood for a long time (but now I'm out of my slump. Or so I think). And I've had school work. And... Well, I really can't say much else without being really obnoxious, and no one wants to hear me babble too much anyway.
Despite that, I'm going to babble some more anyway. I plan on aiming at one chapter a week, which seems do-able for now. PLEASE FORGIVE ME! *wacks self with stick* I've been bad, I know. Most people (Or Myra at least) are sitting there thinking: "Why is she offering excuses and trying to make it sound like she had better things to do? She's just LAZY!" But that's not entirely true. And I do promise to be better though from now on.
Two British literature works (other than HP!) that have inspired me lately:
(1) "The Importance of Being Earnest". I saw it performed by a local college recently. I love the story, it's great! I'm psyched for the movie.
(2) "Maquerade" by Kit Williams. I know it's a picture book, but it's the best! Every time I read it, it intrigues me more.
I'm going to stop babbling and start making sense again.
I've read two HP fics lately that are amazing! The first one is "Unthinkable Thoughts" by Adian Lynch. It's a HP/DM, and it's really good. Thank you thank you thank you for recommending it to me Miyama Ishida!! Everyone except for Myra should go read it, each chapter is better than the last!
The second one is "The Losing Side" by Antenora. It's a HP/DM too, and it's very dark, but way good. It's so lovely that I even had it stuck floating in my head so I ended up doing a fanart of it. Am I ever going to mail it to the great and mighty Antenora? Um, no. I haven't mastered my watercolors yet.
Major thank yous are in order! Here goes: Marionette, Night Spirit, Miyama Ishida, Lina Inverse the Dramata, Sorceress Jade, Queen Strata, Ambrosius, SoulSister, Pasty (who I'm way indebted to!), Myra ("Where's chapter twenty?"), and everyone who I forgot, because I'm way grateful to all my reviewers. Even if I forgot to mention you by name (I'm an idiot, I apologize) I still love you.
I need constructive criticism.
Random quote time!
"They told me I was gullible, and I believed them."