Title: Opacre

Author: Shades

Rating: PG – 13 with maybe some R

Summary:  Harry Potter had no friends until Hogwarts…or so he thought.  Darkness engulfs Harry at age 5…but not evil.  This is the past, and of a secret Harry held close without knowing it…SLASH

Disclaimers: Do I need to tell you that I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters? I do? Well, it belongs to J.K. Rowling, a wonderful author.  I only own Lest Opacre, his family, and anything related to him.  The rest belong to her.

Author's Notes: This will be slash.  Between two boys.  Not the shagging kind, all sex but feeling.  Harry will be 10 when feelings of that sort come around, but nothing before that.  NO NO NO! No pedophile!!  No shagging in this story!  Clear? No flames against that, OK?  Flames against plot maybe but none of pedophile because I don't endorse that, constructive criticism and reviews welcome.

------- = Change of Scene

~~~~~~ = Flashback

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                                                                                   Chapter 10

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            'Stupid, idiotic, moron, git, jerk, basterd…' Harry snarled inwardly as he glared at the back of his teacher's head.  'Arrogant, infuriating, shmuck, annoying, irritating son of a dead female dog.'

            It was cold, sunny Feburary morning and he was seething in his classroom, surrounded by a bunch of annoying giggling girls and immature boys.  It had been three months since Lest's – 'JERK!' Harry snarled mentally – last visit and the young boy was fuming at the fact.  The vampire had missed Christmas and New Year's and had not shown his – 'UGLY!' – face since that argument so long ago after a recent beating.

            'It's not my fault he lost his temper,' Harry fumed as he irritably worked on some math problems, glaring at the impossible fractions.  'Honestly, the way he was snapping at me, you'd think he thinks I ask for the pain.  Someone should…'

            The teacher, Mrs. Furan, interrupted Harry's train of thought, tapping the chalkboard with a meter ruler sharply.  "Class," she said in her dry voice, "I have just finished grading your previous spelling tests and I must say I am very disappointed in the average. I'll just hand them back and I hope all of you will study next time…"

            Mrs. Furan handed Harry his test with that small mix of a frown and glare look she always had for him.  'Ratty old bat in spectacles,' he thought sourly as she finally moved away.  'She should go jump in a lake, melt to death the miserable…old…' Harry never managed to finish that thought as he looked at his score in disbelief.  He knew he passed before he even got his test.  After the test, he checked his dictionary and knew he had gotten an A.

            So that big fat F on his paper must have been a mistake.

            Harry was about to raise his hand to ask Mrs. Furan to put the correct grade on before he saw the small neat writing under the grade.  He leaned closer and squinted his eyes, trying to read the bright orange writing.

            'Messy writing. Illegible.'

            Harry gaped incredulously.  'Messy writing?! Is she insane?? I have the neatest penmanship in this entire SCHOOL!'

            Harry stared furiously at the teacher's head, his paper shaking in his hands and eyes narrowed into slits.  'That…that…cow! Damn her! Damn this school! DAMN LEST!!'

            Harry blinked.  The class roared with laughter.  Harry blinked again.

            It was a known fact around the school that Mrs. Furan was extremely touchy about her hair and guarded it fiercely.  She had been seen with a hair net on windy days, and a plastic one on rainy.  She had always taken pride in its rich blond locks and never hid her contempt for redheads, brunettes or raven-heads.

            So she never seemed the type to dye it bright blue.

            "What are all of you laughing at?" she snapped irritably as snickers floated through the room. She placed her hand on her hip, looking sternly around at the class and absently patting her hair bun.  A strand came loose and fell straight into her face.

            She stared at the blue strand with wide brown eyes and swallowed, all the color in her face fading. Licking her lips nervously, Mrs. Furan reached unsteadily into her drawer of her desk and pulled out a silver compact mirror.  Slowly and carefully, with the class watching with bated breath, she opened it and looked at it.


            'I never knew teachers could scream so loudly,' Harry mused as Mrs. Furan let out an unearthly scream and drop her mirror.  She then began to curse wildly at the students, making them laugh even harder.  'Wow, I think I need to look up a couple of those words.'

            That thought immediately made him scowl.  Lest had said that same thing on the night they had first met when Harry had demonstrated his vulgar vocabulary.  'Bloody hell, that damn blood-sucking leech is rubbing off on me.'

            Unfortunately, Mrs. Furan had been looking straight at him when he began to scowl.  "You!" she shrieked.  "You, Potter, you did this, didn't you!?"

            Harry raised an eyebrow.  "Mrs. Furan," he replied coolly, "would you perhaps mind grasping what little sanity you have at the moment and think about what you just said.  How would I be able to change your hair color in a matter of milliseconds? I think that even without the blond hair, you're still a bit air-headed, wouldn't you agree?"  He smirked at the roar of laughter coming from the rest of the class.

            He knew saying all of that would land him trouble.  So he wasn't at all surprised when the red-faced teacher grabbed him by the ear and proceeded to yank him to the headmaster's office.  He knew that even by replying, he was going to get some form of punishment, and not only from the school.

            'But,' he thought as the young blue-haired woman began to rant at the headmaster, 'it was worth it.  Honestly, an F.'

                                                                                   -----

            March came along with the return of Lest.  It was a month after one of Harry's beatings because of the blue-hair scandal and he was still sporting a couple of brown bruises.  He had been checking over himself when his cupboard door flung open and the 12-year-old vampire boy swept in.

            Harry stared blankly as Lest made himself at home, looking as though he hadn't been gone for four months and looking as full of himself as ever.  Lest, however, wasn't all the same as when he had last seen him.  The boy vampire still had his dirty blond locks, slightly longer than before, and dancing blue eyes that seemed to say that they knew something that you didn't, and the pale skin was still its glowing self.  However, Lest had grown slightly taller since he seemed to hunch more in the small cupboard room and his face looked slightly more mature.

            "Hello to you too," Lest said lazily, bringing Harry out of his daze.  "You're still the small little midget I last saw."

            "And you're still that damn arrogant, holier-than-thou, blood-sucking, fiendish, snobbish, snotty, bratty leech you ever were!" Harry shot back immediately, his anger at Lest returning.  "Why the hell have you decided to come back?! I can assure you that I still mean to carry out that 'twig in the arse' threat I gave you before!"

            Lest snickered.  "Somebody slept on the wrong side of the cupboard evidently," he chuckled.  "What are you so worked about?"

            Harry gaped at the smiling vampire.  'Has he completely lost his mind?' he wondered.  'Or maybe he's got amnesia. Why is he acting like nothing has happened?'

            "Nothing has happened, to my knowledge," Lest said, raising his eyebrow.  "And I still have my mind all intact, thank you very much, which means I have my memory as well.  I ask again, what are you so worked up about?"

            "Damnit Lest!!" Harry snapped.  "I bloody well told you to stop reading my damn mind, you inconsiderate little prick."  Both of the other boy's eyebrows rose into his hairline but he was too far-gone to care.  "As for what the hell is working me up, it's you, you damn piece of slime.  You leave for more than three whole months and now you come back, acting as though nothing has damn well happened and you expect me to do the bloody well the same?  Go to hell Lest!"

            By the time he had finished, Lest was looking at him flatly and had in some point of his rant, crossed his arms.  With Harry's last words, Lest opened his mouth.

            "You really know how to hold grudges, don't you?" Lest said bluntly.  "Don't you know when to forgive and forget? Or is that a concept you have not yet learned? Perhaps I should teach it to you."

            Harry once again gaped at Lest.  "Did you not just hear a word I said?" he said incredulously.  "You left me alone for four months, without a word of warning, and now you expect everything to go back to the way it was?"

            Lest muttered near soundlessly under his breath but Harry was able to catch it in the silence of the Dursley house.  "What are we, married?"  Harry flushed and gave Lest a withering glare, which Lest promptly shook off.  In a louder voice, he continued.  "I was busy with family affairs," the vampire said in a calm, patient voice.  "Personal family affairs that sprung up surprisingly. I never had the chance to contact you and tell you I would not be able to see you."

            Harry laid down on his pallet, and turned over, covering himself tightly with his blanket.  He was beginning to feel a bit foolish.  He had been so angry – 'Not hurt,' he thought mentally, 'not at all hurt.' – at the ditching of Lest that he never stopped to consider that maybe there had been a reason for Lest not coming.  'Brilliant show of intelligence there, Potter,' he thought bitterly as he curled up.

            His voice was icy, however, when he spoke to Lest.  "I suppose that these 'personal family affairs' were so pressing that you couldn't take a minute to write me a note, saying you wouldn't be able to come, huh?"

            "And how was I supposed to send it to you?"  The vampire finally lost a bit of his calm to interject some frustration into his voice.  "You think those pigs you call family would give you any letters sent to you?"  Lest barked a short, humorless laugh.  "I think they would rather rip it up to pieces in front of your eyes."

            Harry stayed quiet.  He knew the other boy was right but he was too proud to admit it.  'It still wouldn't have hurt to sent a note,' he thought grumpily.

            "Burn me," Lest growled under his breath.  "You think I wouldn't have sent a note if I had been able to? Believe me when I say I would have if I had had the chance."  Harry stayed silent, still not facing the older boy.

            He heard him let out a loud frustrated sigh and stand up.  "Forget it," Lest muttered lowly.  "I'm not talking to you until you regain some of that intelligence I admired in you."

            The cupboard door opened soundlessly and some of the moonlight from outside shined into the small room.  The shadow of the vampire appeared on the wall in front of Harry.  The door began to close, making the shadow grow smaller.  Just before the last bit of the shadow faded, the closing darkness paused.

            "Besides, Qye," the vampire Lest said softly, "I thought you didn't want me to come to you anymore."  The shadow vanished into the darkness and Harry was left alone.

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AN: *blinks* Whoa…well, I'll be. That's one of my best chapters ever. *grins* Yay! *looks up at the reviews and eyes widen* Lest…Harry…I reached triple digits. *weeps and clings to Harry* I'm so proud! See! See! I did part of my goal!

(Lest) *sarcastically* Yeah, well you didn't reach you're first two goals which were finishing this story by the end of year/Jan did you?

(Shades) …*cries unhappily*

(Harry) *glaring* You're mean Lest.

(Lest) *looks guiltily at the weeping author and sighs* Keep reading people.