Standard disclaimer applies here; I own nothing.
This chapter is written for jeswin and Ciria, because if it wasn't for them I don't think I'd have continued this fic. {And jeswin: erm, sorry, but it *is* Draco ^^;;;} Many thanks for reviewing!
This fic is a response to Prongs' challenge.
**********************
make one dream come true
**********************
Twist and turn, twist and turn.
Harry focused all his attention on his robes, winding and unwinding the dark material over and over again. The cloth was rough against his skin, and his fingers were painfully red from the friction. The splotchy red was ugly against the paleness of his hand. Turning his palm over slowly, he was suddenly appalled at the transparency of his skin. White, pale, opaque transparency. He noticed the veins running under his skin, blood under his skin. Blood from his mother, blood from his father.
Clenching his fist tightly, he tried not think of his father- -smiling and handsome- -in *that* body.
Twist and turn, twist and turn.
He was fully aware of the concerned glances his boyfriend was giving him, but he ignored them altogether. It wasn't fair. He could feel every heartbeat of the blond next to him, every single suffocatingly loving thought, with acute clarity. For a brief second, he wished he could break the Bond. There was a cold sickness curling in the pit of his stomach, to feel so damned close to him, especially now when he wanted- -needed- -to fall into his own private universe.
Harry was feeling inexplicably mutinous. Rage at nothing at particular was mounting. He wanted to scream, to throw something, to punch someone. Like exploding. Anger was burning him, inside out, bit by bit. He was frustrated, he was nervous, at nothing in particular. His fingers trembled slightly as he twisted at the cloth.
Twist and turn, twist and turn.
He almost jumped as Draco laid a cool hand on his arm. The blond tried to take Harry's hand in his, but Harry jerked away. He avoided all eye contact with Draco, glancing instead at his godfather, bowed low over his. . . father.
Harry had never felt so neglected by his godfather before. There was an irrational pang of jealousy as Harry realized that all the love and affection Sirius had ever given him was because he was James' son, yet it still wasn't even a hundredth of what Sirius felt for James. He turned his attention back on his almost bloody fingers and the black of his robes.
Twist and turn, twist and turn.
James had awoken. Harry and Draco both stiffened subconsciously.
Twist and turn, twist and turn.
Harry heard that voice, that voice that was so *wrong*, squeak in a cheerful but carefully, "Could someone just tell me why I'm back from the dead?"
There was a long silence, and then Sirius gasped suddenly and buried his face in the other man's shoulder. Arms embraced him, gently, and Sirius's body convulsed with silent sobs.
Harry was utterly disgusted. It was sickening to imagine, his father, back, back in. . . that body.
Harry stood up suddenly. "I'm leaving," he said loudly, to no one in particular. His eyes were trained on his godfather and the man whose arms were wrapped so tenderly around him, but neither of them looked his way. He bit his lip. "I'm leaving."
Harry left the room.
**
The slim crescent illuminated a cloudy sky. Harry sat by the lakeside, strumming his fingers lightly over the surface of the dark water, watching as silver ripples collided silently. Cold. He idly wondered if the Kelpie he and Draco had tamed would come out to play, or try to drown him again.
Just then, his lover's thought brushed his mind. The unworded thought wanted to know if he was alright, to which Harry gruffly confirmed. The other presence shimmered uncertainly in his head for a fraction of a second, before breaking the connection. Silence rang through Harry's heart again.
The soft padding of footsteps came through the dewy grass. Harry turned. He watched as Snape approached him, and sat down by the lakeside. Harry sneered inwardly Snape's lack of grace, his long legs awkwardly folded as he sat down cross-legged. Harry started to prepare himself mentally for whatever snide comment was going to come from Snape.
"Finished celebrating your father's homecoming already?" Snape questioned in a mildly provoking tone. Harry snorted in reply.
"Why Potter, why the lack of enthusiasm? Aren't you glad that your father," -- Harry noted the scathing acidity of the word-- " is back? Now you can go save the world together."
"Just thrilled." Harry said, holding Snape's gaze. "I thought you'd be the excited one, Professor, seeing as the whole reason my father is able to come back is through your brilliant idea. But apparently, you've faded into the backdrop, again." Snape scowled as Harry stood and turned to leave with a brisk pace. He didn't go more than a few steps before Snape's voice stopped him.
"How *does* it feel, Potter, to see you father in *his* body?" Snape's eyes glinted maliciously. "Rather ironic, don't you think? Of all the millions of breathing, living bodies, it had to be the sou-"
"Shut up!" Harry shouted, alarmed. He clamped his hands over his ears, fully aware of the futility of the childish act. He watched helplessly as Snape stood slowly. "I don't want to hear it!"
But Snape went on anyway, and Harry's hands didn't stop the sound of his voice slicing through the night. "Now now, Potter, it's not as if you didn't know that your father's soul is stuck in *his* body. Why don't we just grow up and accept the truth?" He drew a cold smile. "I wonder if knows it himself, the great James Potter. I wonder if he knows what exactly has happened to him. And your blubbering godfather, by his side! It must break his heart."
"I don't care. I don't care." Harry whispered blankly, feeling drained suddenly as he felt his Bond appear at his side. The blond put an arm around his waist and Harry leaned into him.
"Enough for tonight." Draco gave the Potions master a curt nod. "Goodnight, Professor."
Snape remained silent as the two figures retreated towards the light of the school.
**
Harry muttered the password and entered the Gryffindor common room. Draco stepped in behind him. He followed Harry to the large chair in which he had flopped down into, pulling up a chair himself next to Harry. The fireplace recognized the two figures and started a small crackling fire. The large, empty common room warmed up immediately.
"Why, Draco," Harry said with his eyes closed. "Why did he have to come back?"
"We didn't know that he could come back, for sure. It was. . . an experiment."
"An experiment?" Harry repeated blankly. " Bringing my dad back."
"Sirius wanted to try."
"Mmm? Yes, he did, didn't he."
"Harry-"
Harry opened his eyes to regard Draco. "It's unfair."
"It is."
"I wish he couldn't come back."
"Really?"
"But, I couldn't deny Sirius his only wish."
Draco took Harry's hand in his own. "Don't you want him back?"
"Maybe. I think I wanted him to. I wanted him to come back, but I wished he couldn't. Not like this. Never like this. It's so *pathetic*, it's degrading to him, to his memory, to his soul. Don't you think so?" Draco didn't reply, so Harry continued. "I don't think he'll appreciate it. Life is a bitch."
Draco spoke up. "Frankly, I'm surprised Sirius agreed to this. I thought he'd be the person to protest the most. he is the one who would hurt the most, whether or not it worked, I suppose. After all. . . I mean, this way." Draco floundered around to look for the proper way to phrase it. He sighed. "Life is a bitch," he agreed.
"Yeah, but you have no idea how deeply Sirius feels for . . . my dad."
"I think I do," said Draco, looking straight into Harry's eyes. A sudden rush of warmth warmed Harry and he sighed and entwined his fingers with Draco's. Pale on pale.
"After all of this madness, I thought everything would just be memories. You know, now with Voldemort is finally gone, I wouldn't have to worry about dropping dead every fortnight and everything. I thought it might be nice to finally get on with life. And-" Harry stopped suddenly. You wouldn't understand, anyway, he thought.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Huh?"
"I have no idea what I'm talking about. Must be overexcited or tired or something. I'm going to bed." Harry let go of Draco's hand and turned towards to dormitory staircases.
"Goodnight, Harry."
"Mmm."
Harry entered his room, quietly shutting the door behind him.
"Harry?" a sleepy voice called out.
"Go back to sleep Ron." Harry said, moving towards his bed and starting to change into his nightclothes.
"Did it work?"
There was a long pause as Harry pulled off his socks. Finally, he replied shortly, "Yes."
"Fabulous, mate." A loud snore followed, and Ron was back in dreamland.
"Fabulous." Harry repeated.
He finished changing and climbed into bed. The pillow was cool beneath him and his sheets were not warmed yet. Thoughts clamored around for his attention. He tried to get a hold of his feelings that were running round like they were on a sugar high.
'Why is he back? After so long, I didn't think it'd hurt. Sure, I miss him- but he's supposed to be *dead*. He's not supposed to be able to just waltz into a body and live again. I take the whole of my life, telling myself that he's dead, and now they come and tell me "Hey, good news, your dad's alive again."? Fabulous, bloody, sodding fabulous.' Harry rubbed at his temples, feeling anger bite up again.
'Now, when I'm ok, when I finally don't need him to be here for me, he's back. What, do they expect me to be happy? Like it never happened? Like it never hurt? They can't make him just step into my life and expect me to think, great, I have a dad again!'
Harry sat up and reached for his wand. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he whispered softly, "Expecto patronum." Silvery white light shot out from the tip of his wand and quickly took the form of the silent stag by the side of his bed. He reached out to touch it; even though he couldn't feel anything but warm air. It was a comforting action he was used to now.
"Prongs," Harry withdrew his hand and the spectral stag tilted its head quizzically, never blinking its large almond shaped eyes. "For so long, it was me and you, me and a memory. It was enough. Now, he's back, and I don't know what to feel." He bowed his head low. The patronus lowered its head to Harry's and pressed gently against Harry's face, the warmth somewhat comforting.
Harry flopped onto his bed again, feeling too tired to care anymore.
"Do you know what the funniest thing is, Prongs?" Dramatic pause as Prongs started to vanish. "My father is stuck in the body of Peter Pettigrew." The patronus flickered once, as if surprised, then disappeared. Harry laughed a short laugh as one last thought went through his mind before sleep claimed him.
"Life is one ironic bitch."
***********************
Yay plotholes!! Yay OOC-ness!! -_-;;; Ok, I know there are a lot of unanswered things to be explained, but they will be in the next chapter. I'm kinda working them out myself ::apologetic smile::. What will happen next? I cannot tell, for my Inner Eye is clouded.
How was this chapter? Harry's POV was majorly OOC, but the next will be someone elses' POV, with all the explanations. Leave a review on the way out? Thankies!
This chapter is written for jeswin and Ciria, because if it wasn't for them I don't think I'd have continued this fic. {And jeswin: erm, sorry, but it *is* Draco ^^;;;} Many thanks for reviewing!
This fic is a response to Prongs' challenge.
**********************
make one dream come true
**********************
Twist and turn, twist and turn.
Harry focused all his attention on his robes, winding and unwinding the dark material over and over again. The cloth was rough against his skin, and his fingers were painfully red from the friction. The splotchy red was ugly against the paleness of his hand. Turning his palm over slowly, he was suddenly appalled at the transparency of his skin. White, pale, opaque transparency. He noticed the veins running under his skin, blood under his skin. Blood from his mother, blood from his father.
Clenching his fist tightly, he tried not think of his father- -smiling and handsome- -in *that* body.
Twist and turn, twist and turn.
He was fully aware of the concerned glances his boyfriend was giving him, but he ignored them altogether. It wasn't fair. He could feel every heartbeat of the blond next to him, every single suffocatingly loving thought, with acute clarity. For a brief second, he wished he could break the Bond. There was a cold sickness curling in the pit of his stomach, to feel so damned close to him, especially now when he wanted- -needed- -to fall into his own private universe.
Harry was feeling inexplicably mutinous. Rage at nothing at particular was mounting. He wanted to scream, to throw something, to punch someone. Like exploding. Anger was burning him, inside out, bit by bit. He was frustrated, he was nervous, at nothing in particular. His fingers trembled slightly as he twisted at the cloth.
Twist and turn, twist and turn.
He almost jumped as Draco laid a cool hand on his arm. The blond tried to take Harry's hand in his, but Harry jerked away. He avoided all eye contact with Draco, glancing instead at his godfather, bowed low over his. . . father.
Harry had never felt so neglected by his godfather before. There was an irrational pang of jealousy as Harry realized that all the love and affection Sirius had ever given him was because he was James' son, yet it still wasn't even a hundredth of what Sirius felt for James. He turned his attention back on his almost bloody fingers and the black of his robes.
Twist and turn, twist and turn.
James had awoken. Harry and Draco both stiffened subconsciously.
Twist and turn, twist and turn.
Harry heard that voice, that voice that was so *wrong*, squeak in a cheerful but carefully, "Could someone just tell me why I'm back from the dead?"
There was a long silence, and then Sirius gasped suddenly and buried his face in the other man's shoulder. Arms embraced him, gently, and Sirius's body convulsed with silent sobs.
Harry was utterly disgusted. It was sickening to imagine, his father, back, back in. . . that body.
Harry stood up suddenly. "I'm leaving," he said loudly, to no one in particular. His eyes were trained on his godfather and the man whose arms were wrapped so tenderly around him, but neither of them looked his way. He bit his lip. "I'm leaving."
Harry left the room.
**
The slim crescent illuminated a cloudy sky. Harry sat by the lakeside, strumming his fingers lightly over the surface of the dark water, watching as silver ripples collided silently. Cold. He idly wondered if the Kelpie he and Draco had tamed would come out to play, or try to drown him again.
Just then, his lover's thought brushed his mind. The unworded thought wanted to know if he was alright, to which Harry gruffly confirmed. The other presence shimmered uncertainly in his head for a fraction of a second, before breaking the connection. Silence rang through Harry's heart again.
The soft padding of footsteps came through the dewy grass. Harry turned. He watched as Snape approached him, and sat down by the lakeside. Harry sneered inwardly Snape's lack of grace, his long legs awkwardly folded as he sat down cross-legged. Harry started to prepare himself mentally for whatever snide comment was going to come from Snape.
"Finished celebrating your father's homecoming already?" Snape questioned in a mildly provoking tone. Harry snorted in reply.
"Why Potter, why the lack of enthusiasm? Aren't you glad that your father," -- Harry noted the scathing acidity of the word-- " is back? Now you can go save the world together."
"Just thrilled." Harry said, holding Snape's gaze. "I thought you'd be the excited one, Professor, seeing as the whole reason my father is able to come back is through your brilliant idea. But apparently, you've faded into the backdrop, again." Snape scowled as Harry stood and turned to leave with a brisk pace. He didn't go more than a few steps before Snape's voice stopped him.
"How *does* it feel, Potter, to see you father in *his* body?" Snape's eyes glinted maliciously. "Rather ironic, don't you think? Of all the millions of breathing, living bodies, it had to be the sou-"
"Shut up!" Harry shouted, alarmed. He clamped his hands over his ears, fully aware of the futility of the childish act. He watched helplessly as Snape stood slowly. "I don't want to hear it!"
But Snape went on anyway, and Harry's hands didn't stop the sound of his voice slicing through the night. "Now now, Potter, it's not as if you didn't know that your father's soul is stuck in *his* body. Why don't we just grow up and accept the truth?" He drew a cold smile. "I wonder if knows it himself, the great James Potter. I wonder if he knows what exactly has happened to him. And your blubbering godfather, by his side! It must break his heart."
"I don't care. I don't care." Harry whispered blankly, feeling drained suddenly as he felt his Bond appear at his side. The blond put an arm around his waist and Harry leaned into him.
"Enough for tonight." Draco gave the Potions master a curt nod. "Goodnight, Professor."
Snape remained silent as the two figures retreated towards the light of the school.
**
Harry muttered the password and entered the Gryffindor common room. Draco stepped in behind him. He followed Harry to the large chair in which he had flopped down into, pulling up a chair himself next to Harry. The fireplace recognized the two figures and started a small crackling fire. The large, empty common room warmed up immediately.
"Why, Draco," Harry said with his eyes closed. "Why did he have to come back?"
"We didn't know that he could come back, for sure. It was. . . an experiment."
"An experiment?" Harry repeated blankly. " Bringing my dad back."
"Sirius wanted to try."
"Mmm? Yes, he did, didn't he."
"Harry-"
Harry opened his eyes to regard Draco. "It's unfair."
"It is."
"I wish he couldn't come back."
"Really?"
"But, I couldn't deny Sirius his only wish."
Draco took Harry's hand in his own. "Don't you want him back?"
"Maybe. I think I wanted him to. I wanted him to come back, but I wished he couldn't. Not like this. Never like this. It's so *pathetic*, it's degrading to him, to his memory, to his soul. Don't you think so?" Draco didn't reply, so Harry continued. "I don't think he'll appreciate it. Life is a bitch."
Draco spoke up. "Frankly, I'm surprised Sirius agreed to this. I thought he'd be the person to protest the most. he is the one who would hurt the most, whether or not it worked, I suppose. After all. . . I mean, this way." Draco floundered around to look for the proper way to phrase it. He sighed. "Life is a bitch," he agreed.
"Yeah, but you have no idea how deeply Sirius feels for . . . my dad."
"I think I do," said Draco, looking straight into Harry's eyes. A sudden rush of warmth warmed Harry and he sighed and entwined his fingers with Draco's. Pale on pale.
"After all of this madness, I thought everything would just be memories. You know, now with Voldemort is finally gone, I wouldn't have to worry about dropping dead every fortnight and everything. I thought it might be nice to finally get on with life. And-" Harry stopped suddenly. You wouldn't understand, anyway, he thought.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Huh?"
"I have no idea what I'm talking about. Must be overexcited or tired or something. I'm going to bed." Harry let go of Draco's hand and turned towards to dormitory staircases.
"Goodnight, Harry."
"Mmm."
Harry entered his room, quietly shutting the door behind him.
"Harry?" a sleepy voice called out.
"Go back to sleep Ron." Harry said, moving towards his bed and starting to change into his nightclothes.
"Did it work?"
There was a long pause as Harry pulled off his socks. Finally, he replied shortly, "Yes."
"Fabulous, mate." A loud snore followed, and Ron was back in dreamland.
"Fabulous." Harry repeated.
He finished changing and climbed into bed. The pillow was cool beneath him and his sheets were not warmed yet. Thoughts clamored around for his attention. He tried to get a hold of his feelings that were running round like they were on a sugar high.
'Why is he back? After so long, I didn't think it'd hurt. Sure, I miss him- but he's supposed to be *dead*. He's not supposed to be able to just waltz into a body and live again. I take the whole of my life, telling myself that he's dead, and now they come and tell me "Hey, good news, your dad's alive again."? Fabulous, bloody, sodding fabulous.' Harry rubbed at his temples, feeling anger bite up again.
'Now, when I'm ok, when I finally don't need him to be here for me, he's back. What, do they expect me to be happy? Like it never happened? Like it never hurt? They can't make him just step into my life and expect me to think, great, I have a dad again!'
Harry sat up and reached for his wand. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he whispered softly, "Expecto patronum." Silvery white light shot out from the tip of his wand and quickly took the form of the silent stag by the side of his bed. He reached out to touch it; even though he couldn't feel anything but warm air. It was a comforting action he was used to now.
"Prongs," Harry withdrew his hand and the spectral stag tilted its head quizzically, never blinking its large almond shaped eyes. "For so long, it was me and you, me and a memory. It was enough. Now, he's back, and I don't know what to feel." He bowed his head low. The patronus lowered its head to Harry's and pressed gently against Harry's face, the warmth somewhat comforting.
Harry flopped onto his bed again, feeling too tired to care anymore.
"Do you know what the funniest thing is, Prongs?" Dramatic pause as Prongs started to vanish. "My father is stuck in the body of Peter Pettigrew." The patronus flickered once, as if surprised, then disappeared. Harry laughed a short laugh as one last thought went through his mind before sleep claimed him.
"Life is one ironic bitch."
***********************
Yay plotholes!! Yay OOC-ness!! -_-;;; Ok, I know there are a lot of unanswered things to be explained, but they will be in the next chapter. I'm kinda working them out myself ::apologetic smile::. What will happen next? I cannot tell, for my Inner Eye is clouded.
How was this chapter? Harry's POV was majorly OOC, but the next will be someone elses' POV, with all the explanations. Leave a review on the way out? Thankies!