Hey, if I put "Veela" in the title, do you think more people would review? Hint hint. Please R&R, feed my starving ego; criticize, comfort, damn me into eternal hell… anything will do.
Disclaimers: If I owned Harry Potter, I guess I'd have the money to buy the books, which sadly, I don't (my mom had to buy 'em). Therefore, it would be unwise of you to sue anyway, for you would be ruining the proving-to-be-glorious life of a young girl (okay, well… not young, but I'm not old either) by depriving her of financial freedom for the rest of her natural life. That would be no fun. Meanies.
Authors Notes: Thank you so much for reading and if anyone can figure out my chapter titles, it's major cyber-Kudos to them, hell, I'm not even sure what they mean. Special thanks to Weasley Wonders, my one and only reviewer. I appreciate it more than you will ever know. Now, on with the show.
In Darkness Found, Light Revealed
Chapter 2: Tastes so Good
Those big eyes, they drew him in like great beacons, condemning him; if it were possible to be further condemned. The man laughed at the thought, it would have been a lark, to do something that could further damn him, not that he felt at all damned, this unlife was quite something. Liberating for all that it imprisoned him in the night; but those eyes, they were more confining than any penitentiary. Those large, seductive, innocent, magnanimous eyes!
He regretted not taking the boy's life but there was nothing to be done; the boy had seen his face, captured his interest. He would never see the child again. It was painful to think it as he paced the forest with the drive of one possessed. Possessed by beauty, by pain, seduced by a perfect, natural wonder, completely enthralled, trapped. He was spellbound. Not so ironic it would appear.
The man craved it, lusted after the unremarkable boy. There was nothing special about the child, he was thin, young, a gangly scrap of a thing, but he had the most exquisite eyes. Windows to a soul they were tired eyes, dark, scared eyes. He knew he was lost, that this thing would be his downfall, but he needed more than the taste he'd received earlier. A gentle drop, a soft touch and his mind had been ensnared by the boy's blood, intoxicated by the scent of it; the soft, silent weeping rang in his ears a week after the incident.
Such a pretty taste.
Every aspect of the almost-murder had been perfect, until the boy opened his eyes. They were desperate, pleading, accepting, burning with fiery anger and overwhelming grief. Paradoxes those things, he cursed them with all that he possessed. Those eyes would be his undoing, the boy was alive and he had to finish his job. It was an absolute necessity to cover his tracks. He doubted that the child remembered anything about that night, but he couldn't afford to take the chance. Renewing the rumors of his kind would renew the hunt of his kind, but more than that… he had to relieve himself of the haunting image of that dependent stare. Kill him… kill him… kill…
With such a pretty face.
Keep him. Keep him for all eternity, as a pet. Dull his eyes into hollow, coreless orbs, empty of all emotion. Revel in the loss of his sentiment wealth and gloat over the once deep pools as they turned flat and reflective. Show the boy the worst things, rid him of his emotional purity, keep him as a toy, expendable. This control that the boy had over him, that he miraculously managed to procure, it was ridiculous, revolting… all encompassing. The feeder would wrench that control from him, empty him.
There was a touch of insanity in the child, there was a piece of him that was screaming. Not for recognition, for something else, he was an odd one that boy. Odd, peculiar even, but beautiful in his own right. The pain he felt seeping from the boy was charming. This obsession simply could not go on; it was pathetic and inherently disturbing. There was only one thing to be done of course, erase the pain, stifle the screaming.
He sought the solace of silence in the boy.
It was impossible, he knew, a flighted fancy that was unachievable by even the most powerful of his kind, though those were rare in this time of persecution. Even killing the boy would be nearly impossible, luring him away from his protective sanctuary, draining him fully. It would be a difficult task, one he had never sought to achieve before. It was careless of him to leave the boy alive, careless, and idealistic. He now had to pay for his mistakes.
The wind blew across the open ground, stirring the well kept grass in waves as he crossed the field. The boy would be asleep, wrapped up in his castle nest, probably in a tower like a precious bird… a precious bird, but infinitely sweeter. Birdy, what an apt nickname, ruffled hair like out of place feathers, soft and inquisitive, he even smelled like the air. Yes, Birdy was in the tower with all of his feathered friends, he would visit him tonight.
The window was closed but that was only a mild deterrent. It was a simple thing to find the boy again, thrashing in his bed. So perfect, so innocent. His warmth would soon be gone; whatever his mortal destiny was, it would change tonight. Tonight began everything, tonight ended everything.
***
"Mister Potter, I think 20 points from Gryffindor for your perpetual tardiness should be adequate compensation for my wasted time. Now sit down."
Harry glared ferociously at his potions teacher; it was the same thing every morning, one point from Gryffindor for every minute he was late, and ten points to Slytherin when he was on time. He was on the verge of snarling at the irate professor before something interrupted his heated stare: snickering.
Behind him sat one: Draco Malfoy, bane of his existence, he who was currently sharing a good smirk with his lackey friends at Harry's misfortune. Malfoy was really beginning to make Harry angry. The Gryffindor almost spun around to tell him so, but that's when things got pandemonious, Neville's cauldron exploded, hurling chunks of half congealed, greenish-grey potion across the classroom. Everyone got splattered with the gelatinous goo and a few of the girls shrieked for it was the approximate color and consistency of troll boogers, Harry would know.
"LONGBOTTOM!!!" Snape roared, clearing Harry's mind of all homicidal desires. He was fiercely protective of Neville since his fifth year and having learned of the prophecy, to think that the blundering boy could have been the savior of the wizarding world was absurd, but Harry was really no better. Anything that Snape had to say was not going to be healthy for the boy's self-esteem, and Harry wanted to be there to defend him. "GET OUT OF THIS CLASS ROOM OR SO HELP ME –"
Neville scampered away before Snape had the opportunity to finish his threat, trailing puddles of the murky goo after him. The furious potions master tried time and time again to clean the classroom, using the vanishing spell that was oh-so-effective against the contents of Harry's cauldron, but failed as Neville's miraculous cauldron bomb managed to evade his wand as would a sentient being. Hermione also tried to help, assuming that the professor's rage was interfering with his incantation, but she too failed. Finally they both gave up, but the results of Snape's defeat were far worse than Hermione's, who only looked put-out. "Malfoy," He spat out, "inform Professor Dumbledore that there will be no classes for the rest of the afternoon. Potter, as a further result of your chronic tardiness, you will be cleaning the room at nine o'clock sharp in detention."
Most of the students cheered for their luck, approximately 30 minutes into the three hour class and it was over. Harry, however, groaned; detention with Snape was like witnessing Filch in a tutu, it was scarring. Harry had two and a half hours until lunch to dwell on it, and dwell he did.
Lunch was a muted affair, no one was upset about missing potions, but Harry was upset about having a detention because of Neville's clumsiness, Neville was almost in tears out of guilt and mortification, Hermione was miffed because she'd lost the opportunity to learn something, and Ron was cranky on Harry's behalf. It was not a good day.
Said bad day was made worse by his nerves. For some reason he felt like a six day spring wound eight days tight, he was tired, cold and downright cranky. Whenever his friends tried to address him, he snapped at them – there was no reason why, he was just not himself. Seamus had started ignoring him because of an incident earlier that morning; the Irish boy didn't have a 9 o'clock class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so he had tried his best to wake Harry. The boy had not responded favorably, Seamus had to resort to dumping cold water over his head but Harry woke up and thrashed wildly, trying to claw at his assailant. Seamus escaped in time, but Harry's fingernails had managed to put a decent sized scratch in his arm. About three seconds after blood seeped out of Seamus' arm, Harry began apologizing profusely, he understood that Seamus was only trying to help him, and he owed him big time etc. Perhaps the effect of the words was lost on the fact that Harry was pulling his pants on in preparation for potions, but Seamus was glowering at him all through lunch.
"I'm sorry Sea –"
Harry's fiftieth apology was rudely interrupted by the malicious laughter of Harry's arch rival. "For Merlin's sake Longbottom, can't you even get a simple shrinking serum right? It's third year material, that's pathetic."
As Neville cowered in his seat, Harry growled threateningly, drawing little attention but scaring Seamus into scooting over. "Because of you I've had to miss my favorite class. What will mother say when she hears about this, why she'll take it up with Dumbledore! You're a menace, you should be expelled."
"Leave him alone Malfoy." Harry bit out, grinding his teeth and narrowing his gaze.
"Or what Potter? Is hero going to come to the buffoon's rescue? Longbottom should've been drowned at birth."
Harry growled.
"Or were you and the Mudblood going to help him study, help him into a dunce instead of the typical troll? God knows Weasel is of no use, he's almost as bad as Longbottom." This was nothing new; Malfoy was always insulting his friends, his sanity, his sexual orientation. Tokay it just irked him to the ends of the earth, he would have sacrificed a great many things to take Malfoy's wand and shove it down his throat, maybe with a decent hex attached. "What Potter, have I struck a nerve?"
Actually, he had, something he was soon to find out as Harry literally launched himself at Malfoy, pinning the boy beneath him and pummeling the blonde with his fists. Quite taken by surprise, it took Malfoy longer than usual to react to the physical assault. However, once he got over the shock, he began to retaliate, ripping Harry's hair out and managing to land a few punches on his person. The boys wrestled with each other, knocking over benches and unintentionally scaring the hell out of innocent bystanders as they were bowled over.
When Malfoy gained the upper hand, Harry caught his wrist between his teeth and bit down hard, taking a sizeable chunk out of Malfoy's arm. The blonde howled like a banshee and broke Harry's glasses, crunching his nose in the process. By the time the teachers finally managed to pull the boys apart, they were both bleeding profusely and more than a little dazed.
"Boys!" Professor McGonagall roared as she approached both guilty parties. Harry was slumped in Hagrid's firm grip as Draco was being helped to his feet by Snape, both boys were liberally splattered with blood and saliva (somehow as spitting match had begun mid-scuffle). "DETENTION! BOTH OF YOU, FOR AT LEAST A WEEK!" she screamed, disgusted, shocked and mildly amused by their battered state.
Harry actually tried to laugh but he accidentally spattered the blood that was dripping from his nose on the floor, he settled for grinning instead.
"What mister Potter?" McGonagall asked icily, Potter was missing two teeth.
"I already have detention."
"Then mister Malfoy will be joining you." She continued then turned to the half-giant, "Hagrid, please take these two to the hospital wing, see that they're taken care of. You are both responsible for making up the homework in the classes that you miss. This is unacceptable behavior. 50, no 100 points from each of your houses, I cannot believe this! Two Hogwarts students…"
Professor McGonagall continued to rant at them long after they were out of ear shot. Harry never would have said so aloud, but he'd just had a defining moment, something he had been looking forward to since first year. Applaud the Hippogriff for gashing his arm, applaud Ron Weasley for giving him a bloody nose, applaud Hermione Granger for slapping him, applaud George Weasley for knocking him out cold. He'd seen it all but he'd never taken a shot at Malfoy for himself, he'd never actually hit him until today. It was the most liberating feeling in the world. His fists were sore from beating the ponce into a bloody pulp, but he couldn't feel better.
Post Author's Notes: Heh, Harry and those violent tendencies of his. I was amused by the thought of a fight but I didn't think it would get so out of hand. Then again, I'm allowed to apply and condone that much blood, breakage, and even the loss of teeth because they're in the magical world and M. Pomfrey can wave a wand or make 'em swallow Skelegrow. I still offer cyber-Kudos for anyone that can figure out my chapter titles. Oh, and yeah, Birdy. Sorry, I needed something besides "boy" and "child" for Harry, so I chose Birdy… you know, soft, cute, pliable (I have a bird at home, I'd know) etcetera.