October 23, 2007: ...I just read the note below this. Was I ever really that dorky?

original note: It's offical. I decided "Minority" by Greenday is the theme song for this. Doesn't it just fit?

grins More Draco-reformi-ness. Sorta. He's just kinda going in circles in his head.

No problem, Maxennce; I like talking about things other people don't know, so that I can educate them in the Way of The Itch.

Sounds like a martial art...

Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Six: Thoughts
The Itch

When Harry Potter and Hermione Granger joined Ron Weasley at the Gryffindor table nothing was wrong. Well, perhaps that is the wrong way to phrase that. There were a few whispers, wondering what it was that Potter had done to cause the young Malfoy to freeze up the way that he had. Other than that, it seemed that everyone was acting as though their interaction passed as "normal". There was the occasional nervous or wary glance among the normal adoring ones.

That had been something of a shock to the population of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There were some girls that found the rings and piercings that decorated Harry's nose, lip, and eyebrow only served to make him look more appealing. In their minds, his twisted and tangled black chin length hair gave him a rebel look, and that his borderline psychopathic behavior had them blushing and giggling whenever he passed them. These girls were few and far between and happened to be in all of the houses, even Slytherin. They were generally lumped into a group that was considered to be completely off their rocker.

Harry generally ignored all of it, with previously unknown skill.

Yes, he could feel the gazes that lingered on his back, but he refused to allow it to bother him. Why should he? The only thing that mattered to the Living Weapon was the fight,a dn that was something that he knew was coming. It had to be, after all, why would Wolfos have had them both remain in the castle if there wasn't one coming? The only question was who the opponent would be.

Would it be Albus Dumbledore and all those that supported him?

Would it be Tom Marvolo Riddle and his little clique of racists?

He didn't know, and quite frankly he didn't really care. He would get rid of Voldemort, as that was set in stone and he refused to budge on the vengeance for his parents, but would he have to battle the old fool and his like? He was pretty sure that even after Voldemort was gone, Albus would not allow the young Potter to do as he wished and go where he wanted to. He would be forced into whatever the old headmaster thought would be the best for him, as it would be for Harry's "own good", after all.

He was so sick of everything being "for his own good". They just kept everything away from him, either expecting him to ignore and forget whatever it was, or for him to already know everything that he needed to know in order to function properly within society. Neither of which was actually happening. That was, in part, why he had agreed to go with Wolfos a year ago. The old Defense Professor had offered him a chance to do what he, what Harry Potter, had thought to be best, not what some old man who's only remaining talent seemed to be parlor tricks, thought was best.

"So Harry," Ron started with a lecherous grin, "are you going to go with anyone in the Harry Potter Fan Club?"

"I have a fan club?" Potter pondered with a raised eyebrow, causing the small blue bead on his eyebrow ring to catch the light and sparkle rather spectacularly. Harry, once had had managed to worm his way out of the back of Weapon's mind, had gone to get it pierced without Wolfos' knowledge. He could still remember the fit that Daemen had had when he realized that Weapon had gone out and 'mutilated' his body without his express permission. That was also when Wolfos had discovered that there were two people within the body of the boy: Weapon and Harry. Harry and Weapon.

"You didn't notice?" Hermione laughed, "For Merlin's sake, Harry! They've been following you everywhere since class started!"

"Eh?" He blinked a few times in confusion, before he realized just who they had to be talking about, "You mean The Stalkers?"

"I could hear those capitals!" Dean put it, "I thought they were call the Harry Potter Appreciation Society, but your title is pretty good."

"Well I certainly couldn't call them the Trepies," Harry answered cheekily, but even among the muggleborns, on the few understood the reference. He sighed and pouted a little. Really, Wizards needed to learn the joy that was video games. They had no idea what they were missing.

Harry, himself, hadn't been "allowed" to play Dudley's Nintendo, or Sega, or Playstation, but he had done it anyway. How were they supposed to know if he had been playing his fat oaf of a cousin's video games when they weren't around? He never saved any of his games, but then he had also had chances to play the entire thing through given how frequently they preferred to not be around him. Those games that he didn't manage to complete, he usually managed to get through a good chunk of them.

"What's a Trepie?" the redheaded teen gave his friend a strange look, "is it some kind of animal?"

Harry took pity on the boy, "It's the nickname of the people in the fan club for Quistis Trepe in Final Fantasy Eight."

Comprehension dawned, "Oh! In one of those Muggle Moveys, right?"

"Sure, sure," he really didn't feel like explaining to his friend what a Playstation or a video game was. However, before he could steer the conversation where he wanted it to go-- namely, away from himself-- Seamus decided to jump onto the bandwagon.

"So, which one, Harry? Arinae Delphi is pretty hot. Long legs, slim figure, brunette..."

"Personally," Dean waggled his eyebrows, "I like Hera Belladona. Now that's a witch with a chest!"

The other boys, excluding Harry who had decided to roll his eyes in exasperation, howled a couple of times, ignoring the stares from the other tables and the laughter from the few professors eating breakfast with them. Hermione, on the other hand, gave them all a sharp look, "Honestly, talking about that at the table!"

"Aw, c'mon," Seamus whined, laying his head pathetically on her shoulder, only to have it shoved off in short order, "We're just having having some fun, Granger."

Hermione's scowl only go darker, "Well I certainly don't want to hear it!"

"Relax Hermione," surprisingly, this came from Ginny, "they're just boys. They don't have anything in their heads except for their dicks."

"I resent that," Harry huffed indignantly, "I have other things on my mind than getting laid."

"Sure you do," chimed everyone else at the table. Harry's response was to cross his arms and pout. Now why did they all have to gang up on him like that? His silent question remained unanswered as his year mates broke into laughter.

He didn't know what it was, but there was something about Potter that freaked him out worse than any threat of the Cruciatus Curse had ever effected him.

On the one hand was his newly designated "safer" Harry Potter. Those cold, blank steel colored eyes that would stare through you more often than they stared at you... but that was what you wanted. The intensity of that gaze was absolutely terrifying. That was the Harry that looked just so right in his wizarding robes. The black material was smooth over his body, sweeping the floor regally and without sound. There was never any sound with that creepy version of the teenager. In the two times that he had seen Harry like that-- the time when going to Poppy Pomfrey, and then watching him stalk through the halls towards Gryffindor Tower a few days earlier-- he hadn't heard a single sound. It was as though the other youth was under the ultimate silencing spell... if you could forget the fact that there wasn't any active magic on him.

It was strange really. Severus Snape was quite skilled in the same ability, and yet that wasn't as nearly pronounced as it was with Harry.

On the other hand there was the Harry that everyone else seemed to believe was the "normal" Harry. There was nothing normal about that boy. The vivid shade of green that his eyes took almost seemed to glow, even during the daylight hours. At times he had wondered if they would glow in the dark as well, but he wasn't about to test his theory. That was an experiment that was far to dangerous for his tastes.

For while this Harry did not have the cold intimidating figure of his other side, this Harry was far from sane. Those eyes of his... he was positive that Potter was taking pleasure in how much he frightened others. He was positive that any threat that was made by that sociopathic wizard could and would be carried out. It may not happen immediately, but it would eventually happen, and more than likely when you least expected it.

This was the side of him that looked right at home in muggle outfits, the side who had the multitudes of piercings and that strange chain that was hooked through his dog collar. This was a person that he did not want to meet in a dark alley, even with his wand in hand and a curse on his tongue.

There seemed to be nothing left of the boy that he had so casually bullied when they started their time at Hogwarts. He was a completely different person, and somehow, Draco was the only one that had noticed. Well, perhaps Granger had seen it, but the Mudblood hadn't been on the receiving end of those changes just yet. It sent a chill down his spine just to think of it.

To think about how the truth rang in his words. The truth that Harry would not hesitate to kill him.

Harry Potter had changed so very much in the year he'd been gone, Draco had finally decided after spending two hours thinking on that fine Sunday morning. He had locked himself up into his dorm room, his arms crossed and his chin tucked in to think. Sitting like this, his legs crossed into lotus and settled into the center of his bed, had always helped him to calm down and think. And so he thought.

What would he do now? He knew that it was too dangerous to keep playing these games with Potter. That meant that there were two ways that he could go about dealing with this. The first method was the simplest: go to his father. From there it would get back to Voldemort... Draco could officially become a Death Eater and be granted that power and... and what? Get himself captured? Get killed in the field, or worse: sent to Azkaban? He wasn't stupid. He had seen the numbers of the dead for both sides of the conflict, as his fact liked to crow about just how many Aurors had gotten their "fool selves" killed, and ignore the fact that an equal amount of Death Eaters would never see their families again, either.

His second choice would be to go to Harry himself. Potter could kill him or not, if he went with this plan. He honestly didn't know. At least with Voldemort he knew what he was getting into. He would at least be taken in and marked. Draco hadn't done all that much to inspire faith in the Boy-Who-Lived, and would therefore have to start from scratch. Worse than scratch, actually. He would have to first make up for all that he had done to Potter over the years.

And therein lay the crux of his problem with that particular choice of action.

Could he give up his pride just to be considered Potter's... friend?... so that he wouldn't automatically get mowed down by the Aurors and Harry's own power when it came to that final battle?

This decision was driving him mad! And he couldn't just go to his father as he had so many times before, because his father's solution was all too obvious. He would be sent off to Voldemort and expected to return with the mark. Draco didn't know if he really wanted to do that. Hadn't he been raised not to bow to anyone, man or woman or dark lord? He had been taught that he was above everyone and everything around him. To bow to the Dark Lord's will seemed to go against everything that he had ever been taught by his father.

Bowing to Potter would do the same, but... but with Potter, with his friends or allies or whatever it was that he saw fit to call them... they were always seen as Potter's equals, weren't they? Harry would risk life and limb for those friends of him, while Voldemort would be content to sit on the sidelines and watch him die.

Raising his head with a long sigh, Draco drew himself up out of lotus, stretching and cracking his back. He couldn't make this decision right now; he needed far more time. This was, after all, a life changing decision. Once he had settled for one side or the other, well... he wouldn't be able to change his mind. There was no going back, especially if he was to turn to the side that was distinctly not his father's.

His stomach rumbled, and a faint blush tinted his fair cheeks. Thank Salazar that there wasn't anyone in the room with him. He would have been absolutely mortified if anyone else had heard it. He was supposed to have perfect control over his bodily functions, after all.

With that thought he climbed to his feet and unlocked the door to glide out into the hall in search of food. It was far too late for breakfast, and yet also too early for it to be lunch just yet. He would just have to go down to the kitchens and get one of the House-elves to make him something. Half out of habit, and half out of a desire to protect himself, Draco made sure three times that he had his wand with him.

There was no point in getting caught unprotected.

End Chapter

October 23, 2007: Removed several lines of unnecessary description. Now I am going to bed.