October 30, 2007: Revisions, ossu.
original note: -grins- Can you see my psycho-Harry-dear singing along to Godsmack?
Perhaps "Sick of Life"...?I actually saw The Philosopher's Stone yesterday. I've been trying to avoid it since it came out; apparently, I had good reason to do so. Silent Dragon (a friend of mine) and I watched it at her house. Neither of us could sit through it without pointing out all the problems (although, she grinned stupidly, and giggled whenever Severus showed up. She's obsessed.).
Halloween was interesting. SD went as a Death eater, and her cousin was Harry Potter. Although I think he would have made a better Draco Malfoy. He wouldn't have had to dye his hair then. But, any ways, we had a blast, wandering around, acting like drunks, and bellowing Christmas carols wherever we went. Can you see that? A death eater and a broken porcelain doll (me), staggering down the street, singing Christmas carols!
Er, well, ya'll should read the story, and not my stupid exploits on Halloween, that got snowballs thrown at us :P
The Itch owns nothing but anything pertaining to "Living Weapon" and Daemen Wolfos.
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Seven: Choices
The Itch
He glared at the text, his teeth grit in frustration. Stupid book.
Why couldn't it have been in an easier language to read? Say... Egyptian hieroglyphs? Old Norse was just... just a pain in the ass! That's what it was. And here he was, stuck with translating it all by himself. Stupid Daemon and his stupid refusal to help him translate the blasted thing. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the reason behind Wolfos not translating the text for him was not, in face, because he "needed to learn some thing son his own" but because the old man couldn't read it, either.
Which all led to him being here: sitting in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, all wrapped up in the black and gold sheets that he had stripped off of his bed, and wearing only a pair of ill-fitting black sweat pants. The translation dictionary was centered in his lap, and the Rune book was open in front of him. To one side was the parchment and a muggle pen. He didn't want do deal with a quill and inkpot at the moment, for fear of spilling it on the Rune book. The only problem with the muggle pen was that the nib of the pen did not seem to like the leather of the parchment, no matter how thin it actually was. Despite that, he had still managed to scrawl a few translated pages across the parchment.
"Isn't it a bit late to be working on homework?"
Harry raised his head, those emerald eyes of his glowing brilliantly in the dim lighting. For a moment, he was unable to spy the speaker, but that was mostly due to the fact that the speaker was draped in an Invisibility Cloak. Once it had been removed, Potter simply turned back to his work. He wasn't exactly surprised to see the Malfoy scion standing in front of him, staring curiously.
"What's this? You're not surprised to see me in your common room, Potter?"
"I could smell you," Harry murmured offhandedly. He really didn't want to deal with the Slytherin Prince right now, and to be honest, he couldn't have cared any less about the fact that said Slytherin Prince was in the Gryffindor commons. While he and Malfoy hadn't really gotten along, it would be fairly simple to remove the irritant from the common room should that become necessary. It wasn't like there was any love lost between them; they had never really gotten along. Not even when they had first met back in Madam Malkins, so many years ago. Not after Draco had opened his big mouth and insulted Hagrid, at any rate. Note to self, go see Hagrid, a part of Harry thought distantly.
Perhaps he had overestimated Malfoy's level of intellignece. He was pretty sure that his not-so-subtle threat from the morning before had registered in the other's teenager's head. "Why are you here, Malfoy? I'm sure it's not because Your Highness is feeling insulted by little old me, is it?"
A black eyebrow raised in some amusement as Draco visibly bit down on his tongue in order to keep the natural responding insult from coming out. Maybe he had noticed the message. One would have to be Crabbe and Goyle thick to have missed it, really. After a few moments of silence, Malfoy settled himself down on the floor where Harry had been working, directly across the books from the Boy-Who-Lived. He scrubbed at his forehead for a moment, before throwing his head back and staring up at the ceiling, "I've been thinking."
Potter's lips quirked, "Really? That is pretty unusual."
A dark look was his response, before the other wizard's face paled, and he started shooting the pierced young man nervous looks. How... intriguing.
"Get on with it, Malfoy. I don't have all night." Hmm, I'm starting to sound like the professors. Note to self, glare fiercely at the next professor you see. It doesn't matter which one, though bonus points if it's Snape or McGonagall.
Draco looked like he was about to swallow his tongue, "I...Potter, that is... ah..."
"You're stuttering. I feel so special-- I haven't seen that since the Forbidden Forest, " mused the young man, his lips quirking dangerously even as Draco flushed with embarrassment of that particular memory. Would he ever manage to get out what he wanted to say? He had spent the past two days making this decision, and it was the longest time that he had spent on any decision before. Here he was, just moments away from a momentous occasion that would change his life forever, and Potter was mocking him!
"Look Potter," Malfoy spat suddenly, "I don't know how to say this, but..."
"But?"
Bluish-gray eyes fixated on the wall above Harry's head, and his words came out in a tumbling rush, "Imsorryabouteverythingthatieverputyouthroughharryimwillingtostartoverifyouare!"
"Did you just... call me Harry?" his eyes were wide in surprise as he searched Draco's face, even as the other boy refused to meet his gaze. The red tone to his cheeks, however, said it all, "Good God, man! You did! You actually called me Harry!"
"Yes, I called you Harry," Draco's growl was through clenched teeth, "Don't go about making such a fuss out of it."
"Draco Malfoy, calling me by my first name?" Harry teased, eyes alight with glee.
"Yes, alright! Did you bother to hear any other bloody thing I said!?"
"I did," and suddenly all traces of his amusement vanished. Green eyes were quickly taken over by gleaming steel, and Malfoy felt the expected (but still unwelcome) feeling of relief flow over him. He could deal with this version of Harry. Those oh-so-dead eyes stared coolly into his own. "What are you up to, Malfoy...? What do you get from this play of being my... friend?"
Malfoy swallowed nervously. This was not the expected turn of events. Yes, he had known that he most likely would not have been accepted at face value, but he hadn't really come up with a solution to this particular question. Biting his lip, he wondered what he could say; what he should say and do. There was no one that he could ask for help on this, if he had ever deigned to ask for help in a situation like this one.
But hadn't he said that about apologizing before? And hadn't he just apologized for six years worth of flak, despite Harry not knowing very much about the past year?
"I..." his voice was a hoarse whisper when he finally decided to speak the truth. "I... don't want to die."
"This is about mortality, then?" Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Everyone dies, Malfoy. Everyone. What are you trying to put off?"
"Look," Draco hissed, his eyes darting nervously to make sure that they were alone. He hated that his omission of weakness had to be to the one who had been his own personal enemy for six long years, "I'm afraid, okay? Terrified. I had to choose between you and You-Know-Who--"
"His name is Tom Riddle, actually," Harry interjected offhandedly, his voice flat and emotionless. Draco blinked a few times in surprise.
"Tom... Riddle...?"
Harry nodded, both as an answer to the question, and as an indication that Draco should finish what he was trying to say. The Malfoy flushed uncomfortably, but continued nevertheless, feeling unusually unencumbered. He should have told someone about this long ago, if only to get this feeling of freedom. Or perhaps it was that he was finally choosing which side that he would stand on. "Right. I had to choose. I choose Y... Riddle, and I'll die. I know that, everyone but the Death Eaters know that. So... so... so I decided... I decided that I would choose my own battles. You understand, right?"
"I do, yes," mused the being known as Weapon to a select few, "Indeed I do..." his own thoughts were on the upcoming battles of himself and Voldemort, and himself and Dumbledore.
Draco gave him a bit of curious look, "Ah... right. Er, well, I thought that... I thought I could throw my lot in with you, and that it would give me a better chance at surviving this whole... thing."
"You have no idea what you'll be getting into," cold gray eyes stared back at him, and Malfoy struggled not to shake. At least it wasn't that burning emerald gaze, he thought dully.
"Then... tell me."
Weapon carefully lifted his books out of his lap, and leaned forwards one hand cupping Draco's chin in order to force the other boy to stare directly into his eyes. Malfoy could not be allowed to back out of this without knowing the full consequences of pledging himself to aiding the Boy-Who-Lived.
"Very well, Draco," he whispered, his voice so cold and harsh even as the green leeched back into his eyes and caused his 'captive' to shake minutely, "I'll tell you. You will be fighting Riddle. You will be fighting your father. Your mother. All those that you once claimed as 'friend'. You will be fighting Snape, and McGonagall, and yes, even Dumbledore. You will be fighting the ministry. You will not be left alone for a single moment because you side with neither, but will destroy both.You will not be evil, but you will not be good, either."
"Wha..."
"Hush, boy!" Harry snapped, "Listen for once in your blood life! If you side with Riddle, you fight me, you fight Dumbledore and those who follow him, and you fight against the Ministry. If you side with Dumbledore, you will fight me, the Death Eaters, and Tom Riddle. If you choose to side with me, you will fight Tom, his little ass-kissing pureblood followers, and you fight Dumbledore and his less than brilliant crew of people fighting for 'good' and 'light' as they call it."
He let go of Malfoy's chin, pulling himself up so that he stood. The small fire that lit the room cast him into shadow, and one had to shiver. Despite the fact that he was mostly cloaked in shadow, and only a few glints of firelight flickered off of his body, his eyes still glowed with an eerie inner flame.
"They know nothing. Good and evil are creations of man. There is no good. There is no evil. There is balance, and both sides with which to disrupt it. That is what the Weapons are for," here he began to pace, his movements smooth and perfect, but his hair seemed to whip around his face with an angered flare. It revealed the agitation in his heart with each strong stride, "And that is what I am. You join with me, and you become a Weapon. You will be one of the Living Tools of Destruction. Of Creation. Of Death and Rebirth, if you will."
And abruptly he was in Malfoy;s face agian, "What is it going to be, Veela-boy? Tom? Albus? Me? Who is it that you are going to follow? Hmm?"
This would be a bit harded that he had thought it would, Draco's mind seemed to stutter over the decision. He had never even considered that Harry would go against Albus Dumbledore, Champion of the Light... but that would explain why Potter had been acting the way he was. Why he was growling and sneering, glaring and glowering, hissing threats and insults under his breath to the old headmaster. Harry didn't seemed to enjoy his current place in the world.
Malfoy was a bit unsure, but... but he didn't back down from a decision once made. He never had, and by Merlin, he never will. He would always follow it through. This was something that he had promised himself, and now he had promised to side with Potter. He wasn't about to allow himself to get killed by the psychotic... what was it that he had called himself? Ah, right. Weapon. He wasn't going to let the psychotic Weapon kill him just because he had chosen the wrong side.
"I told you, idiot. I'm siding with you."
An eyebrow quirked in surprise. Harry had not honestly expected Draco to have responded positively to what he had been told, "You've thought this out then, Draco. What an interesting development this is. I never thought that I'd get the chance to train another Weapon. Oh, this will be fun."
Draco wasn't all that sure if he liked the look that had appeared in Harry's eye. He knew that he didn't like it that the first thing Harry did now that they were partners of a sort, was to order him to sit down and help him translate whatever script that he'd been working on when the Slytherin had first revealed himself. As he could into the document, he frowned to himself.
Why was Potter researching a bunch of ancient Runes?
After several hours worth of work, Draco found himself yawning and rather abruptly hauled to his feet in response.
"Back to the Dungeons with you, Draco," that was another odd thing; Harry had stopped referring to him by his family name as soon as he had said that he would side with the other young man. How very strange... but in any case, he was feeling very, very tired. That was his reason for giving up on the runes for the night, and leaving the common room at Harry's insistence. As he drifted out of the Gryffindor's Tower, he swirled the Invisibility cloak back up around himself.While it was a rare thing to have, the Cloaks tended to travel down a family line, with the spells dutifully maintained on a regular basis. This particular cloak had once belonged to the Black Family, and had been Narcissa's before it was given to Draco for his sixteenth birthday.
Harry had crossed his arms, watching as Draco took his leave. He continued to stare at the door, even after the other boy had gone, and frowned slightly. "You can come out now, Ginny."
The youngest Weasley shifted a bit uncomfortably, but slipped out of the shadow that she had secured for herself earlier in the night. She had been there for quite some time, having been awoken by voices in the commons, and coming down stairs to investigate. Harry had been aware of her presence the entire time, and therefore that she had heard everything from Draco's fear of death onwards.
The aforementioned Potter turned to face his female friend. Ginny took a few hesitant steps forwards, before casting a somewhat longing look back towards her dorm. She should have stayed there. She should have ignored the voices, but she had heard Harry's...
"You heard what I said to Draco. To whom do you pledge your loyalties?"
End Chapter
Who, indeed? Any suggestions?
October 30th, 2007: So, in rewriting these, I keep finding tasty little tidbits that I had forgotten about that will help out with the plot once I catch back up to Chapter 67. So awesome.