A/N: I am so freaking inconsistant with my chapter lengths. It annoys the hell out of me, but I couldn't figure out how to break this one up. Enjoy!
By the way, this chapter contains a lot of random outbursts AND over reactions. So don't tell me, "OMG! They so over reacted! What's wrong with yooooou?" Because I know! I couldn't help myself.
Harry and Ian were not bothered again, and they took advantage of their privacy, using the half hour or so to snog each other senseless. By the time the train pulled into the Hogwarts station, they were both attired in their robes and looked breathless and flushed. They exited the carriage, and Ian looked around in awe.
"Wow, Harry," he breathed, the humid night air closing about them thickly. "Rumsdell was nothing like this. Nothing so magnificent…" Rumsdell was the small, private wizarding school Ian had attended until now, when his father had felt the tutelage to be too specialized. (A/N: bangs head on keyboard Stuuupid, stupid stupid stupid! I know!)
Harry grinned at Ian's amazement, admiring the way the evening light illuminated the pale curve of his cheek. He brushed his fingers against Ian's skin, smiling at the slight shudder that racked the taller boy. They clasped hands, and Harry glanced around. In the poor lighting, with his new appearance, no one had yet recognized him, and the crowd around them gave the two boys a wide berth as they trundled towards the boats. "Are they gay or something?" "I've never seen them before, who're they?" "Are they holding hands?" The whispers followed them as they slid into a small rowboat and Harry grimaced. Though he could escape recognition, maybe he would never escape the attention.
Ian gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Harry smiled at him, then laughed as the boat took off and Ian jerked, badly startled. "Calm down, babe," Harry murmured, "it'll be over in a moment."
Several minutes later, the students began to pour into the Great Hall. The First Years were separated from the others to be sorted, and the other students filed to their respective tables. Harry dragged Ian to the Gryffindor table, because for the moment he had nowhere else to sit. He ignored the inquiring looks of his housemates who did not yet recognize him as their friend, and settled down to watch the Sorting. Ian clung to his arm anxiously, shooting nervous glances at the people surrounding him and shifting uncomfortably. Ron and Hermione sat several seats down, trying to catch Harry's eye and failing.
The Sorting Hat was brought out and sang its song—an unmemorable little ditty about the Houses uniting for the good of the wizarding world, as always. Children were placed under the hat and shuffled off to their tables, and the whole business went by rather quickly. There were far less First Years than normal, and Harry wondered if it was because of the looming threat of war. He shrugged it off.
As the applause for the last First Year—Zaroff, Ginger—died down, Dumbledore stood, smiling his benign, twinkling old-man smile. "All of you," he wheezed to the now-silent Hall, holding out his hands in a gesture of welcome, "welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Though a dark threat looms over us all—and I hope I don't have to elaborate on what that threat is—I hope we can have a truly wonderful year. For those of you who are new to the school, and for those of you that aren't but may need your memories refreshed"—his eyes flicked briefly to Harry, showing not the slightest hint of surprise at his drastic change—"the Forbidden Forest is off-limits. Our custodian, Mr. Filch, has been so kind as to post an ever-growing list of forbidden items on his office door, so please be sure to take a look if you happen to be wandering past. We have another new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Madam Tinny." Polite applause for a small, delicate looking witch with sedate brown hair filled the hall and died down. Ian settled closer to Harry, resting his chin on Harry's shoulder. "And with that," Dumbledore continued, "I will leave you to your dinners!" With a clap of his hands, food filled the previously empty plates before them, and Ian gasped with delight.
Harry smiled at him. "It's not likeRumsdell at all," Ian explained. "House elves took care of things like this. This whole place…it's just really great…" Words failed him and he took to studying Harry as he piled food onto his plate. The boy's eyes still held a hint of emotionless cold in them, and he refrained from looking at anyone but Ian.
"Harry. Love. Are you sure you're alright?"
Harry sighed. His arm snaked its way around Ian's slender waist. "I'm fine, baby. This is what I wanted, right? To change. To put a stop to that bloody fucking Golden Boy image. Still…a part of me—a large part, truth be told—expected Ron and Hermione to welcome me with open arms; to accept what's been happening to me, and understand. They didn't write to me this summer, that's what really gets to me. Did Dumbledore forbid them…or did they just forget about me?"
Ian remained silent, trying to figure out what to say to make this hurt go away. Before he could work it out, Harry's cat-like emerald eyes caught his gaze; for a moment, he couldn't breathe.
They were stunning, sharp with icy rage; and just below the anger, was that pain? Pain so intense it was almost agony?
Or…was it hate?
"H-Harry, you…you—I…" He fell quiet, mouth open, shaking slightly. He'd never seen Harry like this. How long had he been this way—how long had he felt this way?
But suddenly, the rage was gone and in its place was the sweet, slightly sad expression he'd always known Harry to wear.
"Eat up, Ian," his boyfriend said softly. "Tomorrow will be a long day, and you've yet to be sorted."
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From across the room, Draco Malfoy was concentrating on his plate with manic intensity, refusing to look at anyone. The sound of footsteps approached his seat, and he gritted his teeth, waiting. This was the sixth Slytherin to do this.
"Draco, tell me it's not true!" Theodore Nott exclaimed, moving as if to touch Draco's shoulder. A quick, vicious glare from the young Malfoy stopped him in his tracks, but he remained where he was, waiting for an answer.
"What?" Draco ground out, looking back down at his plate.
"People are saying that you…well, that you refused the Dark Mark. That you've been disowned. It's not true, right? Right?" Nott leaned down. "You wouldn't refuse to serve the Dark Lord, Draco…would you?"
Draco snapped.
He stood up so quickly that his plate of food went flying, splattering Pansy and Millicent Bulstrode with roast chicken. Both girls let out little screams that rang out across the Great Hall and brought everyone's attention to where Draco stood, trembling with irritated rage.
"YES I BLOODY WELL WOULD AND YES I BLOODY WELL DID!" he shrieked at Nott, who backed away fearfully. "HE'S A FOOL WITH A HOPELESS CAUSE, YOU BLATHERING IDIOT! HE'S DOOMED TO FAIL!" He advanced on Nott, backing him into the wall. Draco flung his arms out violently. "POTTER ALWAYS WINS! DON'T YOU GET IT? HE ALWAYS WINS! THE DARK LORD WILL FALL, THE WHOLE LOT OF DEATH EATERS WILL BE SHOVED INTO AZKABAN, AND POTTER WILL ORCHESTRATE IT ALL WITH SOME BLOODY INSUFFERABLE GRYFFINDOR SMILE ON HIS FACE! I WILL NOT BE ON THE LOSING SIDE!"
"Mr. Malfoy! That is quite enough!" McGonagall was striding through the tables of dumbfounded students rigidly, face pink.
All of a sudden, Draco realized what he had just done. "Ah, bugger," he muttered, tilting wide silver eyes towards the enchanted ceiling. At McGonagall's terse order, he sat back down, flushed with embarrassment.
The sound of McGonagall's sharp heels rapping their way back to the teachers' table was the only sound in the dead silent hall; there wasn't even the slightest clatter of a fork.
Ashamed, Draco snuck a glance at the Gryffindor table, searching for Potter's reaction. But…Potter wasn't even there! What?
A low laugh finally broke the silence and began to grow in volume until the person from whom it was issuing was almost in hysterics. Eyes narrowed, Draco searched for the offender, along with the rest of the Hall's occupants, and gasped at what he saw.
"Who in the bloody hell…" he muttered, staring. The boy was unlike anything he'd ever seen before, and wickedly beautiful.
"Oh, only you, Malfoy," the boy said into the ringing quiet. "Only you would leave the Dark Side because you don't want to lose. Only you would forsake everything you've been brought up to believe just to avoid bowing down and getting your robes dirty." The boy laughed again.
That voice…it sounded so familiar.
And then it hit him with all the force of a bag of bricks.
"P-P-POTTER?" Draco shrieked without meaning to. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw McGonagall half-rise from her seat, and lowered his voice. "W-what happened to you? Where are your glasses? What did you do to your hair? You…you…look different," he finished lamely.
Potter smiled at him disquietingly. Mutters had arisen from all the houses, and Draco could catch snippets here and there: "That's not Harry Potter, is it?" "Oh, Merlin! What's happened to him?" "I think he's fuckin' gorgeous!" "Look! Has he got his arm about that other boy?!"
"The war's on, Malfoy," Potter told him from across the Hall. "We're all changing."
But Draco barely registered this, because he was too busy focusing on the last comment he'd heard. Upon closer inspection (after standing up again, blatantly ignoring McGonagall's exasperated order to plant his hind quarters back down), he saw that Potter did, indeed, have his arm tightly around the waist of the equally strange, but not nearly as attractive, bloke seated next to him.
The roar of conversation filled the Great Hall again, no doubt all about Potter, whose little stunt had far out-shadowed Draco's own, as usual. This time, however, he found he didn't mind as he slowly sat back down in shock.
What the hell was going on? Potter had gone gothic and gay, and he, Draco Malfoy, had gone over to the Golden Boy's side?
He groaned and put his head on the table, thinking, The whole fucking universe has gone mad.
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Ian looked at Harry with wide eyes. "What was all that about?"
"Draco Malfoy," Harry answered, looking happier than he had all day. Ian felt a pang of jealousy towards the boy who'd gotten Harry to smile like that, and ignored it, feeling stupid. "He's an insufferable git that's been tormenting me for years, and an apparently former supporter of Voldemort."
"Harry!" Ian hissed, appalled. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named must…not be named!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Ah, come on, Ian! That's his name. Voldemort."
Ian pulled away from Harry, horrified. His hands hovered around his ears as if they had been burned. "Stop it, Harry!"
Harry looked at his boyfriend in irritation. "Ian, don't be ridiculous. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," he added, unwittingly quoting something Hermione had said to him ages ago. He pulled Ian's hands away from his ears and held them tightly, oblivious to the avid stares of hundreds of fascinated Hogwarts students. "Now listen to me, love. Are you listening? Good. Voldemort."
"Shut up, Harry! Just shut up!" Ian tried to pull his hands away but Harry was stronger and didn't relinquish his grip.
"No, Ian, I'm so sick of everyone doing this! It's time to face it. Voldemort, okay? Voldemort!"
Ian managed to break away. Angry and frightened, he got up and moved away from the bench.
"Voldemort!" Harry yelled furiously. A few students screamed and others gasped. Ian clapped his hands to his ears, shaking his head and watching Harry with pleading eyes. "Voldemort! Voldemort! The Dark Lord's name is Voldemort! Do you understand, Ian? Does everyone here understand? VOLDEMORT!"
Harry glared at the people gaping at him. "You can't keep on living like this," he shouted, "trembling in fear every time someone says the Dark Lord's name! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Well, guess what! He has been named--Voldemort! So the lot of you can just get used to it, because what with the war hanging over all our heads, he'll be around! Voldemort will come, because he has risen, and if you can't get over this foolish fear, there's no hope for any of us!"
"Mr. Potter! Will you please cease this disrupt—" But McGonagall may as well have been reprimanding herself, because Harry had stormed from the Great Hall.
The students fought to compose themselves after two unexpected outbursts in one night. Ian sat back down, face in his hands, guilty and ashamed. Across the room, Draco Malfoy stared, open-mouthed, at the space Potter had occupied only a few moments before. Several first years and even some older students were in hysterical tears.
"Ron…what's happening? I don't understand why Harry's being like this…where's…where's our Harry?" Hermione whispered, close to tears herself.
Ron gathered his girlfriend close, eyes sad. "I don't know, Mione. I don't know."
Harry looked up at the Fat Lady, trying and failing to quell his rage. "Please?" he begged through clenched teeth. "I don't know the password, but I'm having a really bad day, I'm not feeling too well, and I just want to lie down."
"Oh, alright, dear," she relented, shaking her head disapprovingly. She swung aside, looking put out. "But just this once, and only because I'm so fond of you."
"Thanks a bunch," Harry snapped, and strode into the Gryffindor common room, startling a house elf still making last-moment preparations.
He made his way up to the boys' dormitory, fuming and muttering unsavory things under his breath. Flopping down onto his bed, he pulled the curtains closed, mumbled an unmovable charm, and knew he wasn't going to sleep tonight.
A/N: Dammit! INCONSISTANCY! I'm pulling my hair out with frustration...which isn't good, because I'm going to dye it blue soon! (Woot, I'm excited about that!)
Response for the Reviews:
aznfyr: Thanks, and I certainly will.
doxie: Lol, Ian is NOT Voldemort, I assure you. And, in case you are very, very confused, Ian may be your cousin's name...but this Ian and that Ian are not one in the same. Thank you for your review!
Mera Philomela: Sorry to disappoint you, but Ian won't be in Slytherin...but neither will he be in Gryffindor, dun dun DUN. Lol. Read on, cha? And thanks!
Faren'sFowl: I will, I will. And thank you!
DanishGirl: You betcha. Thanks!
RandomnessDotCom: Thank you!
Raining Fire: MORE, just for you. Thanks!
Shadow of ZAFT: Despite all appearances, Ron and Hermione will be better friends than expected. I like Ron and Hermione, no matter how much I may bash them O.O Thanks for the review!
alyse: Thanks!
driven to insanity: Hope you had a merry Christmas as well, and I hope you like this chapter. Thank you!
Raven's Light: Ah, another review from my favorite reviewer! Quite the vivid picture you painted, running up to Ian and such. Heehee, talk to you later, Sam, and thanks!
oracale: Thanks!
Jerrika: Draco's reaction and more in this chapter! Thanks!
angelkitty77: Umm, no, there will not be a threesome in this one...sorry to disappoint you, lol. Eventually, Ian leaves the picture and Draco enters. I don't know about Ian-Blaise, but there will be someone for Ian--I'll make sure of it. Thanks!
Squirrelswillrule: O.O Sorry. Hmm, I dunno, I've dated girls with lip rings before and never had a problem kissing them. Eh, maybe I'm just uber accomodating. I have the perfect break-up scene in my mind, and to give you a little hint, the relationship ends because Ian's a bit of a coward...but that's all I can tell you for now. Thanks for your wonderful review!
dea puella: I'm sorry, I tried! I hope this chapter brings your opinion of my writing skills up a notch. Thanks!
LJMHarry: Well, the relatives are gone so I should be able to update somewhat regularly, when I'm not out and about with my friends. I got some cooool stuff for Christmas--the best of which were my long-coveted Rolling Stones t-shirts! Woo! And thanks for the review, of course! You're another one of my favorite reviewers!
Mistress Vamp: Of course--here you go, and thank you!
Jazz-Skywalker: I tried, lol. Thanks.
lita-2003: Harry does seem to be edging his way towards evil...but I'll pull him back from the brink, no worries. Thanks!
Okay, ta da and all that crap. Gosh, where are my cigarettes? Arrrg.