Xikum LuluW and Ellie all picked out the quote.
BlackRose1356 got the author of the play
Poochie-san and Allocin got the play but not the character
Tonia Barone got a quote.don't know if it was Lockhart. . .
The angelic vampire got a quote and play but not the one I was thinking of
. . .but kudos anyway.
Killing-dance and Sunde got the person who says it. The rest of you, read
some literature! It's from Romeo and Juliet, Mercutio says it TO Tybalt (so
you were close, Allocin)
AN: I have a livejournal! Thanks to Daggy. Please, please add me to your friends lists. I will be posting little snippets of fic there, romance and angst, and most likely more quickly than on ff.net. So please check it out!
That's MOOdragon, not MOONdragon. Cos Moondragon was already taken.
When Harry had returned that evening to see Draco, he had found Lucius still there, looking tenderly at his son. It seemed slightly out of character for the aloof man, but he supposed that was the sort of relationship one had with a son.
How would he know?
He remained, staying in the shadows, until Madam Pomfrey politely informed Lucius that Draco needed to rest. Nodding, Lucius got up and walked past Harry.
"Please, Harry, walk with me."
Harry fell a little behind the older man and Lucius looked at him appraisingly.
"Why do you always walk behind?"
Harry was confused by the question, but answered as well as he could.
"I know my place, sir."
"Ah, but you are a boy, a powerful wizard, not a house elf. Come, walk beside me."
Uncertainly, Harry moderated his step to come alongside Lucius. The older man walked regally, but Harry found if he stretched his legs a little he could manage to keep up without jogging. Harry still felt unsafe next to Lucius. He felt like he was unguarded, and it was making him nervous. Perhaps Lucius noticed, because he made light conversation as they walked through the corridors of the school.
"How are you finding school, Harry?"
The warm, paternal air confused Harry slightly, and he stuttered on his reply, instantly furious with himself for seeming so stupid.
"Very enjoyable, sir. I especially like transfiguration."
"Good, good" murmered Lucius thoughtfully, and then suddenly, "Please, call me Lucius. I am no teacher, or master of yours. As far as I am concerned, we are equals."
Harry nodded uncertainly.
"Yes, si. . .Luc. . .si. . .Lucius."
The blond-haired man smiled at his discomfiture and nodded. They were at the exit by now, a long path leading out to the Unplottable road which led to Hogwarts. Lucius had a carriage waiting, emblazoned with the Malfoy crest that Harry had seen so many times on Draco's belongings, and as he took in the awesome sight of the transporter, Lucius put a hand on his shoulder.
"Harry, if you should need anything - anything at all - do not hesitate to send me an owl. And feel free to write to me; I would imagine you are not in contact with those muggles much. It must be a little lonely."
"Y-yes, Lucius" said Harry uncertainly.
"Well, take care" said Lucius, holding out his hand. Harry grasped it firmly and nodded. "I'm sure I shall see you again this term, or maybe at Christmas. I'm afraid I really must depart now, though. I have pressing matters to attend to at home. Congratulations on the Quidditch again. A most impressive display."
"Thank you. Have a safe journey" said Harry, nodding formally. He watched the carriage swing out of the gates, and watched until it was out of sight before turning around, shoulders slumped. Then he straightened them out, put on a mask of cool indifference, and walked in measured paces back to the castle.
He wasn't sure what to do. He felt. . .numb, deadened. He was afraid, too. With the commotion of Draco's poisoning and the trials, Severus hadn't grilled him on the Dursleys, but Harry knew it was coming. He wanted to hide somewhere and never emerge, because suddenly the school seemed so big, and he was so little. Not thinking straight, he went through the dungeons, taking the doors with rusted hinges showing their lack of use, until he found a cupboard big enough just for him. It was filled with bottles, old bottles coated in dust. There was a faint smell of mint and roses, and it felt nice and safe. He curled his knees up to his chest, and waited patiently for the panic to overtake his senses as usual.
Why did he seek the terror of being locked in a cupboard? It made him feel better, because it was what he deserved. For being such a failure. For being a murderer. The guilt wasn't coming. It washed over him in waves, usually, almost making him feel relieved. Now he felt guilty for not feeling guilty, but nothing in him would obey the command to panic. Furious, he slammed his fist into the wall, and stopped, his knuckles still touching the wall. God, it burned and stung and ached. He hadn't felt pain like this in so very long. He guessed that something was broken; a finger, perhaps, or a knuckle. Maybe even two. He didn't care; the pain reassured him. Made him feel alive. His hand was bleeding profusely; he couldn't straighten the curled fingers as they were swollen now. Cradling his hand to his chest, he got up shakily, feeling the room tilt around him, and reached out for the wall with his other hand.
It took a while to reach the main castle; he had a good sense of direction, but had to stop through dizziness and nausea several times, leaning his head against the stone wall until the feeling passed. He was feeling more and more ill by the second, the pain in his hand suddenly detracting from his relief and making him feel worse. Flashes of pain would whip across his head, not his scar, and his stomach would cramp excruciatingly. Then a bout of severe nausea would follow, and he would collapse to the ground clutching his stomach before getting painfully to his feet and carrying on. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, as he staggered on, eyes clouded by spots of dizziness, he walked straight into Severus.
"Harry?"
Harry looked at Severus, the torch-light illuminating his clammy skin and unfocussed eyes. He just stared, as though he had never seen another human.
"Harry? Are you alright?"
Harry stared at Severus, moved forwards uncertainly as the older man looked at him in confusion.
"Harry?"
Harry collapsed forwards in Severus' arms, coughing violently, shivers wracking his frail body, and Severus lifted him up. As he did so, he noticed how thin Harry was and how hot his forehead was; crazily so. Concerned now, he carried his young Slytherin quickly up the stairs to the Infirmary.
"Poppy, I have an ill boy here."
He laid Harry on a bed, looking down at him. The boy's breathing was shallow and he was still shuddering. One hand was swollen, with a few broken bones by the look of it. Harry was covered from head to toe in dust, but the damp sweat shone on his brow.
Madam Pomfrey came bustling through and began running her hands over Harry's head.
"Oh my, he does have a fever. What happened, Severus? Oh goodness, his hand!"
"Yes. . .I was returning to the dungeons when he walked into me and collapsed. Naturally I came here immediately."
"Yes, naturally" said Pomfrey, slightly suspiciously. She knew what Severus was like for taking care of his own students. "Well, I don't know what I can do except give him a fever reducing potion. Wizards don't get fevers from anything other than stress, so you should talk to him later. But for now he needs bed rest and no disturbances. I'll put a curtain around."
Severus nodded.
"Would you like me to change him?"
"Yes please. I would use a spell, but I don't think the extra magic would do him any good."
Severus nodded again, accepting the proffered pyjamas, and moving behind the curtain. Harry was ridiculously light in his arms as he undid the robes. The jumper was too large, though the smallest size, and came off easily. Harry really did look awful, and had to put on some weight. His ribs stuck out sharply from the skin, and even his hips jutted out painfully. The way that even in unconsciousness he whimpered as his trousers were removed disturbed Severus; it would have to be added to an ever-growing list of things he needed to find out about Harry Potter. Finally, he lifted Harry into the bed, and placed a surprisingly tender hand on his forehead, willing away the fever.
"Sweet dreams" he whispered, and closed the curtains behind him.
********************************************
"Severus"
Snape turned with an ill-concealed sigh of annoyance and looked behind him.
"What is it, Albus? I've had a long day."
"I want to talk with you about Mr Potter."
"Can it not wait until tomorrow?"
"Severus, do you not see this behaviour as concerning? He disappears routinely, seems to confide in nobody. It had taken nearly a week for us to find out about serious abuse. It is not a healthy state of affairs, Severus."
Snape allowed his eyes to slip closed. He was more worried than he cared to admit, but Dumbledore was right. Even in Slytherin, he had never had such a reclusive student. Not only was he worried that things were worse than he had suspected, but if Harry didn't open up to someone then who knew what he would resort to to find inner peace?
"Yes, Albus" he replied, wishing he could keep his voice a little softer. "I will talk to him tomorrow."
"But do you not think tonight would be. . ."
"I know how to look after my damn students, Albus" snapped Snape, and instantly paled. "Oh god, sorry. I didn't mean to."
"It's ok. I know you've had a stressful day."
"No, I know that's no excuse. I apologise, I had no right to speak to you like that."
Dumbledore smiled and patted Severus' shoulder.
"Apology accepted. Now get to bed before I deduct house points."
Snape chuckled, and bade the headmaster goodnight.
AN: I have a livejournal! Thanks to Daggy. Please, please add me to your friends lists. I will be posting little snippets of fic there, romance and angst, and most likely more quickly than on ff.net. So please check it out!
That's MOOdragon, not MOONdragon. Cos Moondragon was already taken.
When Harry had returned that evening to see Draco, he had found Lucius still there, looking tenderly at his son. It seemed slightly out of character for the aloof man, but he supposed that was the sort of relationship one had with a son.
How would he know?
He remained, staying in the shadows, until Madam Pomfrey politely informed Lucius that Draco needed to rest. Nodding, Lucius got up and walked past Harry.
"Please, Harry, walk with me."
Harry fell a little behind the older man and Lucius looked at him appraisingly.
"Why do you always walk behind?"
Harry was confused by the question, but answered as well as he could.
"I know my place, sir."
"Ah, but you are a boy, a powerful wizard, not a house elf. Come, walk beside me."
Uncertainly, Harry moderated his step to come alongside Lucius. The older man walked regally, but Harry found if he stretched his legs a little he could manage to keep up without jogging. Harry still felt unsafe next to Lucius. He felt like he was unguarded, and it was making him nervous. Perhaps Lucius noticed, because he made light conversation as they walked through the corridors of the school.
"How are you finding school, Harry?"
The warm, paternal air confused Harry slightly, and he stuttered on his reply, instantly furious with himself for seeming so stupid.
"Very enjoyable, sir. I especially like transfiguration."
"Good, good" murmered Lucius thoughtfully, and then suddenly, "Please, call me Lucius. I am no teacher, or master of yours. As far as I am concerned, we are equals."
Harry nodded uncertainly.
"Yes, si. . .Luc. . .si. . .Lucius."
The blond-haired man smiled at his discomfiture and nodded. They were at the exit by now, a long path leading out to the Unplottable road which led to Hogwarts. Lucius had a carriage waiting, emblazoned with the Malfoy crest that Harry had seen so many times on Draco's belongings, and as he took in the awesome sight of the transporter, Lucius put a hand on his shoulder.
"Harry, if you should need anything - anything at all - do not hesitate to send me an owl. And feel free to write to me; I would imagine you are not in contact with those muggles much. It must be a little lonely."
"Y-yes, Lucius" said Harry uncertainly.
"Well, take care" said Lucius, holding out his hand. Harry grasped it firmly and nodded. "I'm sure I shall see you again this term, or maybe at Christmas. I'm afraid I really must depart now, though. I have pressing matters to attend to at home. Congratulations on the Quidditch again. A most impressive display."
"Thank you. Have a safe journey" said Harry, nodding formally. He watched the carriage swing out of the gates, and watched until it was out of sight before turning around, shoulders slumped. Then he straightened them out, put on a mask of cool indifference, and walked in measured paces back to the castle.
He wasn't sure what to do. He felt. . .numb, deadened. He was afraid, too. With the commotion of Draco's poisoning and the trials, Severus hadn't grilled him on the Dursleys, but Harry knew it was coming. He wanted to hide somewhere and never emerge, because suddenly the school seemed so big, and he was so little. Not thinking straight, he went through the dungeons, taking the doors with rusted hinges showing their lack of use, until he found a cupboard big enough just for him. It was filled with bottles, old bottles coated in dust. There was a faint smell of mint and roses, and it felt nice and safe. He curled his knees up to his chest, and waited patiently for the panic to overtake his senses as usual.
Why did he seek the terror of being locked in a cupboard? It made him feel better, because it was what he deserved. For being such a failure. For being a murderer. The guilt wasn't coming. It washed over him in waves, usually, almost making him feel relieved. Now he felt guilty for not feeling guilty, but nothing in him would obey the command to panic. Furious, he slammed his fist into the wall, and stopped, his knuckles still touching the wall. God, it burned and stung and ached. He hadn't felt pain like this in so very long. He guessed that something was broken; a finger, perhaps, or a knuckle. Maybe even two. He didn't care; the pain reassured him. Made him feel alive. His hand was bleeding profusely; he couldn't straighten the curled fingers as they were swollen now. Cradling his hand to his chest, he got up shakily, feeling the room tilt around him, and reached out for the wall with his other hand.
It took a while to reach the main castle; he had a good sense of direction, but had to stop through dizziness and nausea several times, leaning his head against the stone wall until the feeling passed. He was feeling more and more ill by the second, the pain in his hand suddenly detracting from his relief and making him feel worse. Flashes of pain would whip across his head, not his scar, and his stomach would cramp excruciatingly. Then a bout of severe nausea would follow, and he would collapse to the ground clutching his stomach before getting painfully to his feet and carrying on. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, as he staggered on, eyes clouded by spots of dizziness, he walked straight into Severus.
"Harry?"
Harry looked at Severus, the torch-light illuminating his clammy skin and unfocussed eyes. He just stared, as though he had never seen another human.
"Harry? Are you alright?"
Harry stared at Severus, moved forwards uncertainly as the older man looked at him in confusion.
"Harry?"
Harry collapsed forwards in Severus' arms, coughing violently, shivers wracking his frail body, and Severus lifted him up. As he did so, he noticed how thin Harry was and how hot his forehead was; crazily so. Concerned now, he carried his young Slytherin quickly up the stairs to the Infirmary.
"Poppy, I have an ill boy here."
He laid Harry on a bed, looking down at him. The boy's breathing was shallow and he was still shuddering. One hand was swollen, with a few broken bones by the look of it. Harry was covered from head to toe in dust, but the damp sweat shone on his brow.
Madam Pomfrey came bustling through and began running her hands over Harry's head.
"Oh my, he does have a fever. What happened, Severus? Oh goodness, his hand!"
"Yes. . .I was returning to the dungeons when he walked into me and collapsed. Naturally I came here immediately."
"Yes, naturally" said Pomfrey, slightly suspiciously. She knew what Severus was like for taking care of his own students. "Well, I don't know what I can do except give him a fever reducing potion. Wizards don't get fevers from anything other than stress, so you should talk to him later. But for now he needs bed rest and no disturbances. I'll put a curtain around."
Severus nodded.
"Would you like me to change him?"
"Yes please. I would use a spell, but I don't think the extra magic would do him any good."
Severus nodded again, accepting the proffered pyjamas, and moving behind the curtain. Harry was ridiculously light in his arms as he undid the robes. The jumper was too large, though the smallest size, and came off easily. Harry really did look awful, and had to put on some weight. His ribs stuck out sharply from the skin, and even his hips jutted out painfully. The way that even in unconsciousness he whimpered as his trousers were removed disturbed Severus; it would have to be added to an ever-growing list of things he needed to find out about Harry Potter. Finally, he lifted Harry into the bed, and placed a surprisingly tender hand on his forehead, willing away the fever.
"Sweet dreams" he whispered, and closed the curtains behind him.
********************************************
"Severus"
Snape turned with an ill-concealed sigh of annoyance and looked behind him.
"What is it, Albus? I've had a long day."
"I want to talk with you about Mr Potter."
"Can it not wait until tomorrow?"
"Severus, do you not see this behaviour as concerning? He disappears routinely, seems to confide in nobody. It had taken nearly a week for us to find out about serious abuse. It is not a healthy state of affairs, Severus."
Snape allowed his eyes to slip closed. He was more worried than he cared to admit, but Dumbledore was right. Even in Slytherin, he had never had such a reclusive student. Not only was he worried that things were worse than he had suspected, but if Harry didn't open up to someone then who knew what he would resort to to find inner peace?
"Yes, Albus" he replied, wishing he could keep his voice a little softer. "I will talk to him tomorrow."
"But do you not think tonight would be. . ."
"I know how to look after my damn students, Albus" snapped Snape, and instantly paled. "Oh god, sorry. I didn't mean to."
"It's ok. I know you've had a stressful day."
"No, I know that's no excuse. I apologise, I had no right to speak to you like that."
Dumbledore smiled and patted Severus' shoulder.
"Apology accepted. Now get to bed before I deduct house points."
Snape chuckled, and bade the headmaster goodnight.
