Part: 02/??
Pairing: Harry/Tom (for now, someday or some part there many be more thrown in)
Warnings: insanity? not the humor kind, but real insanity. angst, slash and sex. blood and morbid themes. i am not for children
Rated: R
Disclaimer: Not mine, need I have to say? The character have their rightful owners (who I am too lazy to name off), I'm just borrowing them for some one my little ideas.
Noted: I don't have a beta, so forgive my errors. This part is a little shorter then I had planned it to be, but I'm still happy with it. Things are starting to coming together for my plot. Mwahaha. Thank you to all who have reviewed already, I loved the ego stroking. Enjoy the next part. :)
There were a lot of pressures in large families.
Or, at least, that was how it seemed.
Harry wasn't a dense person; he just wasn't the fastest on the uptake sometimes. He once figured--quietly to himself as he mostly figured such things--that if he had glasses (thanks Dad), he might as well use them to keep an eye out. Moody and his life had made him slightly paranoid. It wasn't "constant vigilance"; he called it looking after friends.
Fifth year had been tough on them. But, it seemed like every year got harder for the trio because whatever factors were in the wood works. There was always some bigger and nastier challenge to defeat or mystery to solve. It was almost like a video game that worked with the idea of levels.
He supposed it was a good match up, considering the idea of years.
In the time passing, he learned to keep an eye on Ron. He didn't mistrust the redhead, they just had more falling out periods then what he was use to (and, admittedly, he was only slightly better then horrid at the friendship thing). There was also something about the few that they had that made something in the back of his mind worry about his friend. It made his feel slightly better.
And radically worse.
The twins were nearly out of school in their fifth year. In their sixth (one they currently were in) there was only one other Weasley, Ginny. Ginny, like all her family before, was steadily making a name for herself within the memory of her parents with her good grades and even better attitude towards school. Ron still found it hard to just make average marks let alone exceed like every other brother and sister he had.
It was wearing on him.
In their sixth year, Ron was not on his way to being a prefect.
His parents, being the kind of loving parent they were, would sometimes tell him that such things didn't matter. But he had seen the proof already that they did. He had seen it when he was younger with Percy. The Weasley's were an old, pureblood family, like the Malfoy's only without the old money. Pureblood families, from his experience, adored little bits of fame to their name. While the Weasley parents didn't show it like the Malfoy's, they loved those little bits of praise.
Molly probably even liked the success of the twins' joke business.
Harry could see the lines forming around Ron's eyes. They were more noticeable when Hermione came up with her studying schedules, making him look as nervous as Neville when facing Snape. Harry saw how his lip twitched to just smile at her sometimes.
Something had faded from his friend.
Ron didn't seem as less then he use to be. Just a little more worn, a little more tired then the years before. He was quieter too, keeping his head down more. The red head seemed to have calmed down as well, starting less fights with Malfoy.
It was kind of creepy.
Harry once wondered what other people saw of them. Him the Hero That Was And Is To Be (he loved the wizarding way of thinking sometimes), Hermione the Bookworm With Bite and Ron the Redhead. That ponder had made him feel horrible for his friend. What if that was the way he was seen? Would Ron drift away into darkness to never be noticed again someday?
He wondered if he was seeing it now.
Sometimes, late at night, Ron climb out of his bed and walk over to Harry's trunk. It was an unspoken thing between them that his invisibility cloak was for use between either of them. Ron would pull it out, wrap around himself and scurry out of the room (the first couple times he had done this, Harry had heard a whispered "sorry" in his direction). Where he went, Harry never asked.
Ron always looked brighter after those nights.
Whatever Ron did during those nights, Harry hoped that it never stopped. Real smiles were really hard to find now and days in Hogwarts.
Harry looked up over the tables to gaze sidelong at the headmaster. Dumbledore was also looking aged these days and not in a good way. Before, Dumbledore had looked cheerful, now there was some kind of deadly seriousness hanging around him. He half expected the man to stand up and say, "It (He) is coming." Everyone thought it though, so it really didn't matter if it was said.
"He is coming."
And he'll be here tomorrow.
Harry wasn't frightened. No one was yet. They would be tomorrow. They would be screaming tomorrow. But, today, they were just kids at school. Nothing more, nothing less.
He hoped Ron would have his happy moment tonight.
He rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand. His scar itched, but that had been commonplace for days now. He was getting use to it. He could handle it.
He'll be here tomorrow.
Harry left the Grand Hall after the majority of people had headed off to wherever a majority of people headed off to. He kept his head down as well. He didn't want anyone to see his scar. He didn't want that attention now, not when everything was so close to ending (or really beginning).
He could hear murmurs, Malfoy's voice and someone who sounded like Ron. He didn't check it out. If it were Ron, he would let him to his business. Harry just wanted to curl up in his bed and get some good rest before the Dark Lord came.
Maybe he would dream he was Alice again.