This story is almost finished, it will be around 12-13 chapters long, it seems.
Don't fret, they'll keep coming until I have no malevolent ideas left. grinning nastily
CHAPTER 1 – A Lost Piece Of Jewellery
Harry Potter, the Golden Boy of the wizarding world, walked the half-empty aisles of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry without really seeing what passed him by. The day was the first of winter holiday of Harry's seventh and last year and the students who had not already left seemed eager to do so, most being in the dormitories of the four houses. The few Hufflepuff third-year students who raced past him caused no reaction from the troubled young man with the tousled raven hair. The Boy Who Lived leaned on the windowsill of one of the huge castle windows, thinking about Voldemort's last moments. The Second War was over and Tom Marvolo Riddle with it. Harry himself had escaped inside the school walls to be free of the few curious onlookers and journalists still around – he'd had enough of that the first months of the year – and now the emptiness swept him away like a tidal wave. Ron and Hermione had gone to their respective homes, asking Harry to come with them, but Dumbledore had insisted that he spend at least another vacation with his aunt and uncle in Surrey. What a comforting thought. He frowned. Could I ask for a greater reward for risking my life for them and saving the world than to be locked up in the same house as my pestering cousin for two weeks?
Some of the third- and fourth-years were having a grand snowball tournament in the courtyard, complete with no rules whatsoever. There came puffs of smoke from the chimney of Hagrid's hut, reminding Harry that he had at least one friend still in the region. The thought made his pitch-black thoughts grow somewhat lighter. He sighed and then he yawned. I really haven't gotten too much sleep lately, Harry thought drowsily to himself. He started rubbing his tired reddened eyes – he couldn't remember sleeping well in months. Not since he had... Harry breathed slowly and forced himself to think the thought until its conclusion. Not since he had... killed... Voldemort. It was still worse than hard to accept. He – Harry – the Boy Who Lived, was a murderer.
He was still in the process of trying to get the world to stop twisting and turning under his weary feet when someone grabbed his shirt and turned him roughly, pushing him against the wall and window, the windowsill pressed against his back. In front of him stood the lean, pale and overconfident Draco Malfoy. That little brat, Harry growled to himself, his expression confused and angry.
"Malfoy, you..." Draco hit him hard with an open hand over his left cheek and he let out an annoyed: "Ow!" The young Malfoy's eyes seemed to try and burn their way into Harry's soul.
"Potter," he spat angrily. "Where is it?!" Draco's usually ever-close companions Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to bee seen, something that calmed Harry a little. The two were perhaps not the best wizards of Hogwarts – rather the other way around – but they had more brawn than brains and Harry really didn't feel like defending himself against their stone-fists. So he only had to deal with the annoyed Malfoy. "Well, Pot-head?!" Draco hissed, moving raging fire of the darkened grey eyes closer.
"Where is what?" Harry was truly dumbfounded, but didn't feel like the aggravated little rat needed to know that, so he kept his face straight. For once in his life Draco Malfoy seemed to loose control, pulling Harry closer with force – so close that Harry could feel the Malfoy's delicate vanilla breath on his face – his pale skin whiter than usual with the fury he whispered to the other boy's face:
"The Azure Tear, you fucking dick-head. Now tell me where you hid it!" He pushed Harry away, so forcefully that the Gryffindor grimaced with pain as the windowsill hit his back.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," Harry growled, now definitely annoyed. "And I wouldn't touch something that was yours with a ten-foot stick." As he finished the sentence a shadowy flash of something, which almost looked like panic to Harry, crept into Draco's usually so calm eyes.
"You have to have it!" The Slytherin boy was fuming, but in a desperate way that Harry had never seen in him before. "You're the only one who could have taken it, Potter, give it back! You don't know what you're messing with," he raged. Yes, Harry concluded, he's definitely desperate. Now that's a new sight...
"Dunno what's gone into you, Malfoy," Harry sighed. "Or what you're looking for. Just leave me alone, why haven't you gone home to your own great place, now that it's all yours?" A picture of a dying Voldemort aiming a deadly spell at a certain Death Eater made its way into the active part of Harry's brain, and the sight of Narcissa Malfoy, as she drew her wand like a sword to revenge her husband. Harry had not known that a Malfoy was capable of such... whatever had made her turn on Voldemort because he killed that bastard Lucius Malfoy. Killed... Killed... Murdered... The words echoed through his head. You killed, Hero Boy, now how heroic is that?
Being so full of his own thoughts he didn't even notice the way the mentioned Lucius Malfoy's son roared at him until his face was hit by all the strength Draco could put into his fist. There was the overwhelming sound of bones crushing. Harry's head felt like it was burning, like the blood in his veins had somehow changed to become absolute pain, intense beyond any reason at the point where his nose really ought to be. Somebody screamed far away, or rather, everything was far away somehow, he felt so... detached from the whole world. The last thing he heard was Draco Malfoy, as he spoke revolted, so close and still distant words.
"Oh Merlin, this is awful..."
Upon waking, the pain came back to Harry James Potter like a hammer-blow to the head. He moaned and opened his eyes slightly, only to realise that he really rather would have them shut – considering how the light hurt. His senses were beginning to return to normal.
"So, awake at last, Potter?" Harry sighed, like a man who really wanted to die, but had just realised he would not be doing so for a while. That snappy, sneering voice could only belong to Professor Severus Snape.
"Yes, professor," he answered formally.
"Then I suggest, Potter," said another contemptuous young voice which he quickly recognized as Draco Malfoy's, "that you tell us where you hid my stuff." The whole scene in the hallway came back to the Gryffindor in an instant and he grumbled.
"I don't know what Azure Tear you're talking about and I said I haven't taken anything that was yours." Then he countered with a question of his own, directed at Snape. "Why am I not by madam Pomfrey, professor?" Snape's answer was short and his voice sharp.
"Because Poppy is currently unavailable, Potter. Believe me; I don't treat you because of the fun of it. As soon as you're ready to walk out of this room you will be doing so. Now, what do you know about Mr. Malfoy's Tear?" Snape's question first made Harry confused. Malfoys never cry, what... oh! He felt a little ignorant at that.
"I don't know anything about it, so why keep asking me?" Harry grumbled. After half a second's pause he remembered to add the required "Professor". Snape grumbled, but allowed the slip to pass.
"You know nothing about the Azure Tear, is that correct mr. Potter?" Snape growled, interrupting whatever it was that Draco was trying to say. Harry sighed again, was Snape ever going to believe him concerning anything? He had been assaulted by the god-damn Malfoy bitch but of course Snape would never favour the Gryffindor the least when it came to his own little Ickle Malfy-buns.
"I know absolutely nothing at all, professor," he said slowly. "What is it?"
"Malfoy," Snape said, encouragingly. Draco gave off a displeased sound but begun telling his story anyway, however offensive he obviously found it to tell Dumbledore's pet, that horrible little Potter-rat, the Weasel's and the Mudblood's buddy-boy, about things he considered his own.
"The Azure Tear is a blue crystal, perfectly shaped like a crystallized teardrop. It is a great treasure of the Malfoy family's," he lectured. "It's about an inch high and is rumoured to be extremely resilient to physical damage. It has got its magical features too, but you really don't need to know, Potter."
"Mr. Malfoy can't leave Hogwarts before the Tear has been found," Snape concluded, "and since you seem to have been nothing but roaming the corridors of late you shall help him with all your might, mr. Potter. Have I made myself clear?" There were immediate protests from both Harry and Draco, which were quickly silenced by Snape.
"I did not ask whether you two wished it that way, mr. Malfoy, mr. Potter," he said, in a stern voice. "I asked whether I had made myself clear. You will begin searching for the Azure Tear as soon as Potter is out of bed. And I'm really sorry to inform you, mr. Malfoy, but you will have to search together." The comment made the boys protest loudly but Snape silenced them once more. "I'm sure you can imagine why, Malfoy. And as you said, Potter really doesn't need to know." For some reason, Draco Malfoy could not call forth his usual loathing for the entire situation.
Later that day the two were having their evening meal in the Christmas-decorated hall, at the single table that was left during this holiday. Harry guessed that the Headmaster wished to bring the few students who had not gone home closer together. What he had managed to do was to get the few first- to fourth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors who had actually stayed over the holiday to sit as far apart as possible, with the occasional Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw in between to stifle the arguments a little. The only seventh-years left from their two houses were Harry and Draco, constantly trying to stay apart as much as possible, while still staying close enough to talk in normal, but remarkably displeased voices to each other about where they had looked and how much there was left. And as usual, they seemed to have decided to agree on absolutely nothing. At last Draco sighed loudly.
"You're as bad as your friend Weasel. You're both burrowing in the ground, when you could soar like the eagles through the skies, I don't see your point, Potter. Never have." The blond absent-mindedly scratched his cheek, as the raven-haired sent a gaze toward him.
"Well, Malfoy, perhaps you've got a point. But eagles may soar, weasels don't get sucked into jet engines, which is where you'll be unless we find this thing of yours so I can get rid of you."
"Well then, as you're one too thick-headed muggle-wannabe to find it even if it was rammed up your arse I will go looking in the Slytherin common room and dormitories. You will not accompany me there, Potter." Malfoy's expression was stern and disgruntled.
"Oh, but I think he will," said a smooth voice behind them. "McGonagall has given her permission that you help mr. Potter search the Gryffindor common room and dormitories," professor Snape said quietly while watching the two boys stare at him before collecting themselves again – Malfoy doubtlessly quicker than Potter. "...If Potter helps you search the Slytherin quarters. Thinking it a fair exchange, I politely agreed. We shall see concerning the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff quarters if you cannot find anything before that." With all the grace and self-control of a Slytherin Head of House Snape strode up to his place and began his meal. Not that the two boys noticed, engaged in a fiery contest of wills, grey diamond eyes meeting green emerald ones, neither of them turning away until professor McGonagall stepped up in front of them.
"You are being childish, boys. I will see you set an example for the youngsters, not teaching them bad habits. Now get on with your meal, the two of you. If I remember correctly professor Snape told me you had a common mission to get on with?" Reluctantly the two boys turned their blazing gazes to their meals once more.
--------------------------------------------
Well, as for yer REWIEVS!! I'd like comments on anything concerning my english spelling and grammaticism and anything else about the language you feel could be righted. But, more important, I'd like comments about the story as such. Any sentence that feels odd, any twists you feel have gone wrong, anything that feels too much or too drawn out, anything you've been missing here (can't promise you I'll change it, but I'll try, at least). AND last but not least... characterization. I know they're not very colourful and they're not going to get very much better at that. They're not the overpowered maniacs I've read some wonderful stories about, but they still have characters and I might not be all too perceptive – meaning I might miss stuff they would've said or wouldn't have.
Anyone who figures out how to push the "review" button before I post the next one gets a mega-hug when I do! grinning madly
