DISCLAIMER – Not mine, never will be. Just borrowing them to mess around...
all innocent fun, don't sue me!!!
AUTHOR'S NOTE – This chapter has been a long time in coming, I apologise!!!!
RATING – R to be safe, in all probability a PG-13...
OUT INTO THE BIG, BAD WORLD. . . HOW BAD CAN IT BE? Harry paced his dormitory room in quick angry strides, occasionally running a hand through his unruly, inky-black locks. His mind was racing furiously, trying to digest all the emotions that were running amok inside his head. He didn't want to be the Boy-Who-Lived anymore -- couldn't handle the fame, couldn't live up to the expectations that were heaped onto his head by the wizarding world for much longer. His inner voice was sceaming and kicking, demanding to be let out to speak -- to make itself known to the world, to the people who thought they knew him so well, thought they could tell him what was good for him.
It was about time he made himself known. The true Harry Potter.
A thin smile crossed his face and his unnaturally green eyes glittered at the prospect of all the hullabaloo that would proceed his little 'retirement' speech. Maybe Hermione would drop to the ground in a deep faint? Ron turning a vibrant purple in anger? Dumbledore turning ashen in fear, knowing that the side of the light was doomed to failure? The wizarding world in an uproar? He couldn't wait. He just wanted out, to be able to walk the streets without passers-by staring at his scar, to be able to make it through a school year without playing catch-me-if-you-can with the Grim Reaper himself.
He straightened his school robes, adjusting his glasses as he strode towards the beautifully carved door that led to the landing outside his dormitory. Barely noticing the heads turning to stare at him as he swept past them, he made his way to the Great Hall swiftly, his pale face looking as though it was carved in stone, set and hard. Oh, yes. Time to let the Slytherin in him come out and play.
~*~*~*~
The doors to the Great Hall flew open, a strong gust of wind sweeping in as students and professors alike stared at the diminutive figure standing at the doorway, his green eyes flashing a strange fire. An aura of power seemed to cloak his very being, his slight stature commanded respect. Hermione frowned as she sipped at her goblet of pumpkin juice. Harry looked -- different, somehow. Oh, sure, he was still short, thin and messy-haired, but he seemed...... evil? No, not evil, she chided herself. Harry? Evil? Someone must have slipped a befuddlement potion into her juice. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, trying to figure out exactly what was so different about Harry.
Then he spoke, his voice ringing clear and strong.
"I have decided to leave the Wizarding world for awhile. . . to clear my head. I think I need some time. . . to mourn and come to terms with my loss. Voldemort has been a part of my life for to long, I reset sharing it with him. I wish," and here he looked directly into Dumbledore's faded blue eyes, "you all the best. May the best side win."
He stepped back, his eyes sweeping the hall, trying to imprint the image of his first ever real home in his mind.
A silence, a pause as the occupants in the Hall tried to process what he just said.
Uproar.
Now Hermione knew what was different about Harry.
Teachers were on their feet, pleading with Dumbledore to do something, anything, to stop Harry, their light, their saviour, from deserting them at their hour of need. Shouts of "Albus! Stop this madness!" and "Harry!!!! Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" interspersed with "We need you Harry! Don't leave us!" filled the room, the usual buzz of conversation now a cacophony of vocal panic.
Slytherins stared at Harry, their expressions running the whole gamut from confusion, horror, shock, triumph, and in one case, utter boredom. That would be Draco Malfoy. He calmly picked up another piece of toast, buttered it, and took a bite, for all the world looking as though it was just another day at Hogwarts and people running around screaming at Harry were everyday occurrences.
Harry noticed this. How could Draco stay so calm? Then a realization dawned upon him. Ever since the new term started, they had not fought even once. What had happened to the Draco he thought he knew?
Draco got up, languidly brushing crumbs off his robes before sauntering out of the hall gracefully. Harry stared at his retreating back. At the last minute, Draco turned around. Cool silver eyes met blazing emerald green for a moment, and a smirk twisted the blonde's lips as he dipped his head a little in acknowledgement.
The door closed.
Harry was left thinking, pondering what that encounter meant.
And a very irrelevant thought entered his mind.
Draco was fucking hot.
~*~*~*~
Once again, Harry was alone in his dormitory. This time, though, he was not pacing alone, his emotions awhirl inside him; he was packing all his belongings, getting ready to face the world. This time all by himself, somewhere nobody recognized him. And for some reason, Malfoy's face kept on invading his thoughts. That feline grace when he walked, his platinum blonde hair just grazing his shoulder blades, his beautiful silver eyes.
Wait.
Harry could not believe he was thinking Draco Malfoy attractive. Malfoy?
And another thing.
He wasn't a fag!!
Right?
Harry found he could not answer that question.
~*~*~*~
Two hours later, he walked through his common room for the last time; all his personal belongings shrunk and kept in his robe pocket. He had half expected booing and to most probably be hexed as he made his departure, but to his surprise (and relief), he was merely greeted with stony faces and averted eyes. The entire room hushed as he put his hand on the handle of the portrait and he turned around, wanting to have just one last glimpse of the cozy room that had seen so many of his little triumphs and defeats, the times when he celebrated Gryffindor's Quidditch victories, the time when he returned humiliated after asking Cho out, all the little mundane aspects of his life. These walls had seen enough of him and his life to know that in spite of the stupid scar on his forehead, instead of all the circumstances in his life, he was still a normal teenage boy, with hopes and dreams, and crushes, and a life.
Too bad the rest of them didn't know that.
Suddenly a hostile voice broke into his thoughts. "What are you doing still standing there? Get out of our common room, you don't want to be here, well, we don't want you here either anyway!"
Harry turned slowly and looked into the bright blue eyes of his best friend, the first friend he ever had, not counting Hedwig. Ron's eyes were dark and full of anger and betrayal.
"Well? What are you waiting for? Get out!"
Harry gave his red-haired friend a crooked smile, turning back to the portrait hole but was held back by a strong hand.
"Hold on, mate. Just want to give you a goodbye gift." Ron spun him around, and hit him with a really painful left hook right to the jaw. Harry crumpled against the door, tears stinging his eyes as he worked his jaw gingerly.
"That was for letting all of us down, you bloody bastard."
Ron stalked away, never looking back at Harry.
Harry staggered out of the common room, adjusting his glasses as he did so. He noted, with some regret, that even the Fat Lady refused to look at him, pointedly turning her back to him.
He strode through the corridors, meeting with whispering students at almost every turn. Some insulted him right to his face, a few attempted to hex him, and he dodged their pathetic tries with ridiculous ease, but most whispered. And the whispers were really, really starting to get on his nerves.
Barely hanging onto his temper by the skin of his teeth, Harry Potter walked out Hogwarts with his robe pockets full of belongings, his Firebolt floating in midair beside him, sporting an impressive purple bruise on his right jaw.
In his opinion, his life was about to start right about now.
Right after he figured out where he wanted to go.
AUTHOR'S NOTE – This chapter has been a long time in coming, I apologise!!!!
RATING – R to be safe, in all probability a PG-13...
OUT INTO THE BIG, BAD WORLD. . . HOW BAD CAN IT BE? Harry paced his dormitory room in quick angry strides, occasionally running a hand through his unruly, inky-black locks. His mind was racing furiously, trying to digest all the emotions that were running amok inside his head. He didn't want to be the Boy-Who-Lived anymore -- couldn't handle the fame, couldn't live up to the expectations that were heaped onto his head by the wizarding world for much longer. His inner voice was sceaming and kicking, demanding to be let out to speak -- to make itself known to the world, to the people who thought they knew him so well, thought they could tell him what was good for him.
It was about time he made himself known. The true Harry Potter.
A thin smile crossed his face and his unnaturally green eyes glittered at the prospect of all the hullabaloo that would proceed his little 'retirement' speech. Maybe Hermione would drop to the ground in a deep faint? Ron turning a vibrant purple in anger? Dumbledore turning ashen in fear, knowing that the side of the light was doomed to failure? The wizarding world in an uproar? He couldn't wait. He just wanted out, to be able to walk the streets without passers-by staring at his scar, to be able to make it through a school year without playing catch-me-if-you-can with the Grim Reaper himself.
He straightened his school robes, adjusting his glasses as he strode towards the beautifully carved door that led to the landing outside his dormitory. Barely noticing the heads turning to stare at him as he swept past them, he made his way to the Great Hall swiftly, his pale face looking as though it was carved in stone, set and hard. Oh, yes. Time to let the Slytherin in him come out and play.
~*~*~*~
The doors to the Great Hall flew open, a strong gust of wind sweeping in as students and professors alike stared at the diminutive figure standing at the doorway, his green eyes flashing a strange fire. An aura of power seemed to cloak his very being, his slight stature commanded respect. Hermione frowned as she sipped at her goblet of pumpkin juice. Harry looked -- different, somehow. Oh, sure, he was still short, thin and messy-haired, but he seemed...... evil? No, not evil, she chided herself. Harry? Evil? Someone must have slipped a befuddlement potion into her juice. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, trying to figure out exactly what was so different about Harry.
Then he spoke, his voice ringing clear and strong.
"I have decided to leave the Wizarding world for awhile. . . to clear my head. I think I need some time. . . to mourn and come to terms with my loss. Voldemort has been a part of my life for to long, I reset sharing it with him. I wish," and here he looked directly into Dumbledore's faded blue eyes, "you all the best. May the best side win."
He stepped back, his eyes sweeping the hall, trying to imprint the image of his first ever real home in his mind.
A silence, a pause as the occupants in the Hall tried to process what he just said.
Uproar.
Now Hermione knew what was different about Harry.
Teachers were on their feet, pleading with Dumbledore to do something, anything, to stop Harry, their light, their saviour, from deserting them at their hour of need. Shouts of "Albus! Stop this madness!" and "Harry!!!! Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" interspersed with "We need you Harry! Don't leave us!" filled the room, the usual buzz of conversation now a cacophony of vocal panic.
Slytherins stared at Harry, their expressions running the whole gamut from confusion, horror, shock, triumph, and in one case, utter boredom. That would be Draco Malfoy. He calmly picked up another piece of toast, buttered it, and took a bite, for all the world looking as though it was just another day at Hogwarts and people running around screaming at Harry were everyday occurrences.
Harry noticed this. How could Draco stay so calm? Then a realization dawned upon him. Ever since the new term started, they had not fought even once. What had happened to the Draco he thought he knew?
Draco got up, languidly brushing crumbs off his robes before sauntering out of the hall gracefully. Harry stared at his retreating back. At the last minute, Draco turned around. Cool silver eyes met blazing emerald green for a moment, and a smirk twisted the blonde's lips as he dipped his head a little in acknowledgement.
The door closed.
Harry was left thinking, pondering what that encounter meant.
And a very irrelevant thought entered his mind.
Draco was fucking hot.
~*~*~*~
Once again, Harry was alone in his dormitory. This time, though, he was not pacing alone, his emotions awhirl inside him; he was packing all his belongings, getting ready to face the world. This time all by himself, somewhere nobody recognized him. And for some reason, Malfoy's face kept on invading his thoughts. That feline grace when he walked, his platinum blonde hair just grazing his shoulder blades, his beautiful silver eyes.
Wait.
Harry could not believe he was thinking Draco Malfoy attractive. Malfoy?
And another thing.
He wasn't a fag!!
Right?
Harry found he could not answer that question.
~*~*~*~
Two hours later, he walked through his common room for the last time; all his personal belongings shrunk and kept in his robe pocket. He had half expected booing and to most probably be hexed as he made his departure, but to his surprise (and relief), he was merely greeted with stony faces and averted eyes. The entire room hushed as he put his hand on the handle of the portrait and he turned around, wanting to have just one last glimpse of the cozy room that had seen so many of his little triumphs and defeats, the times when he celebrated Gryffindor's Quidditch victories, the time when he returned humiliated after asking Cho out, all the little mundane aspects of his life. These walls had seen enough of him and his life to know that in spite of the stupid scar on his forehead, instead of all the circumstances in his life, he was still a normal teenage boy, with hopes and dreams, and crushes, and a life.
Too bad the rest of them didn't know that.
Suddenly a hostile voice broke into his thoughts. "What are you doing still standing there? Get out of our common room, you don't want to be here, well, we don't want you here either anyway!"
Harry turned slowly and looked into the bright blue eyes of his best friend, the first friend he ever had, not counting Hedwig. Ron's eyes were dark and full of anger and betrayal.
"Well? What are you waiting for? Get out!"
Harry gave his red-haired friend a crooked smile, turning back to the portrait hole but was held back by a strong hand.
"Hold on, mate. Just want to give you a goodbye gift." Ron spun him around, and hit him with a really painful left hook right to the jaw. Harry crumpled against the door, tears stinging his eyes as he worked his jaw gingerly.
"That was for letting all of us down, you bloody bastard."
Ron stalked away, never looking back at Harry.
Harry staggered out of the common room, adjusting his glasses as he did so. He noted, with some regret, that even the Fat Lady refused to look at him, pointedly turning her back to him.
He strode through the corridors, meeting with whispering students at almost every turn. Some insulted him right to his face, a few attempted to hex him, and he dodged their pathetic tries with ridiculous ease, but most whispered. And the whispers were really, really starting to get on his nerves.
Barely hanging onto his temper by the skin of his teeth, Harry Potter walked out Hogwarts with his robe pockets full of belongings, his Firebolt floating in midair beside him, sporting an impressive purple bruise on his right jaw.
In his opinion, his life was about to start right about now.
Right after he figured out where he wanted to go.