I already have several chapters written out. I've gone over these chapters so many times my eyes are bleeding. But alas, I still require a beta reader to point out what I keep over looking. So if you are interested and literally inclined, I would really appreciate your help. Well here it is the first of the new chapters for my story.
Of Kings and Commoners
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
Home
That's where his friends went over the summer holiday. School was just school, a place to learn and make friends. Home was their comfortable solitude away from prying eyes, gossiping voices and endless hours of study. Home was where you were most comfortable to be yourself and shed those masks you'd wear at school.
Number 4 Privet Drive was home to Mr. Vernon Dursley, his wife Petunia and his shapely son Dudley. For young Harry Potter however, the Dursley home was merely a place of shelter, chores and discontent. Discontent for both the Dursleys and for Harry. They didn't care for him and he didn't care for them. Though they were the only relatives he knew, they looked at him with scorn and disgust. Simply a tool to be used to fix and cook, much like a butler that wasn't paid. Though slavery wasn't an accurate term anymore, it never seemed any different to Harry.
Threats from members of the Order had left Harry to his own devices, which would have satisfied Harry to no end last year, but it only seemed to depress him even more. So much so he did the chores on his own to keep his mind occupied. The passing of his Godfather, Sirius Black, had taken away Harry's closest idea to a father he had as well his own father's best friend.
It was this very reason that Harry was outside, lying on the roof, just above his room. He had spent the first few nights "home" on the roof, lying there until the dark sky began to turn indigo.
He had written back to Remus Lupin just before climbing up to stare at the stars. Remus was Harry's last link to his parents, and just as dedicated to his well being as Sirius was, and though he didn't want to admit it, not as reckless as Sirius. In a way Remus seemed more like a father in the sense that he didn't approve of Harry's rebellious attitude and nature, though he admitted recently that James was just the same and it was up to him to keep James and Sirius and on the straight and narrow. At least as straight and narrow as he could.
Though Harry appreciated Remus' effort, he still climbed onto the rooftop and cried until the stars became blurred lines trying to catch each other. Here, on this rooftop, not in his room, away from prying eyes and scornful voices, Harry felt at home.
***
The summer sun pounded away as it always did, and just the same Harry found himself working away at the back yard, surprisingly content with himself. It helped to pass the time so he took care to pay attention to the detail to make sure there would be more to due tomorrow. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw his Aunt Petunia nod in approval at the first rose bush as she came to inspect. Probably the only form of thanks or gratitude he had seen from her ever.
Then again he was working without asking, never speaking unless spoken to, and staying in his room unless he was working or eating. Even the usual tone of disdain in his Uncle's voice wasn't there. Just simple impersonal, monotonous sentences. Dudley was too busy in the gym to bother Harry. Even when he was home he wouldn't chide or harass him.
It seems only rose thorns had something to say to him. Despite his care of them, and the amount of time he worked on them throughout his life he still had problems with thorns drawing blood from his fingers. He clipped the last one for the day as he noticed the shadow of the house nearly disappear. It was usually around this time that…
"Harry! Get your lunch. And tidy up the house right quick. I'm expecting guests in an hour."
He didn't respond. He wiped the sweat from his brow and replaced the flowers on the coffee table vase. He straightened out the magazines and pillows on the couch, and dusted the entire downstairs. It was the thin layer of dust that kept the house from feeling like a museum. He imagined he have to wax the floor tomorrow.
"Alright, alright, very good, very good. Now get up stairs. Not a peep out of you now." She said with her usual fussy tone with a hint of disgust that she seemed to have even when she spoke to her "normal" friends.
He ascended the stairs and set his plate on his desk before falling face first onto his bed, not caring that the sheets were absorbing his sweat and stench. He was tired. And it felt good to be exhausted physically. He was always magically or mentally drained, but his frail frame still showed his lack of definition. Quidditch helped some, but even after the longest games, he felt more magically drained than physically. It wasn't like muggle sports where he had run every which way, that's what the broom was for.
"Oh fuck…"
His broom. A gift from Sirius, just recently returned to him after the ban placed on him to play was lifted. One of his most favored possessions even before he knew it was from him. It stood in the corner of his room, lightly sanded and carefully polished to perfection. His eyes began to water but he swore them away.
"No Harry. Don't cry. Sirius wouldn't want you too. He'd want you to study or something,"
He looked at his trunk, heavy from books and summer assignments loomed over his head. He smiled despite himself.
"No he wouldn't. He wants you to make sure Aunt Petunia's friends had a "nice" time when they came over."
Harry felt a bit better. "What would Sirius do?" always seemed to make him laugh. The image of him and his father in their youth inspired ideas of pranks to rival the twins, though he knew he didn't have their natural talent. Rule-breaking was more Harry's forte and he was proud of it. If Harry wasn't famous, if he didn't have anything else, he would still be breaking the rules and playing Quidditch.
A single tap on the window and Harry raised his head from his bed. Hedwig had quickly learned to make as little noise as possible when they were "home". Not many things tapped on the second floor window anyway so it was easy see who it was. All other owls came at night when he left the window open. Even the occasional fan mail that made it through the privacy wards around the house only came at night.
"Hello girl. Aunt Petunia had some friends over. So…"
Hedwig hopped over to her cage and clicked at the door.
"It is bit hot out there isn't it? I'll open you up after dinner then?"
Hedwig just stared back but Harry knew she understood. She poked out a leg and pecked at the letter tied to her. Harry untied the leather strap and Hedwig hopped in onto her perch and nuzzled her head under wing.
He didn't recognize the handwriting, which was smudged in some places, and cleaned with a spell in others. It wasn't Hermione or Ginny, but the style was…girly.
Dear Harry,
Hi. It's Cho. I know you probably never would have expected a letter from me. I just wanted to apologize for snapping at you last year. When I left I went to the Three Broomsticks because I knew Marietta was there. I saw Hermione Granger there. She wasn't alone like I thought she would be. And I just wanted to apologize because I acted on a suspicion. I'm sorry but whenever I saw you, there she was. Granted, Ron was always there too, but words spreads, and the Daily Prophet…well after it was revealed that everything they published was pretty much a sham, I resolved to write to you. I can understand if you don't want to write back and I think asking to be friends is asking too much of you. I'm sorry I just really needed to get this off my chest.
Sincerely,
Cho Chang
"Wow," was all Harry could come up with. Cho was probably the furthest person in his mind. His one time crush, the kiss, and up to their failed Valentine's date, all of which were so very important as they came to fruition were suddenly swept away with his loss. If he never saw her again he probably wouldn't have even noticed. Especially at the end of the year. He vaguely remembered seeing her on the platform. Ever since he had first laid eyes on her, anytime he saw her was a bright spot on his day. This last time however it wasn't even a blip in his mental radar. And now she writes to him? Definitely an odd way to end his day.
It was barely after one o'clock, but anytime he was sent upstairs he was done for the day. Already he had laid out a parchment and his pen (since quill scratching was apparently audible through the walls).
'What the hell am I supposed to say to that? She doesn't exactly give me much room to talk on anything does she?'
He found himself looking at Hedwig's cage and she peeked up from her nap, clicking her beck before disappearing back under her wing.
"Right, sorry."
Harry was really at an impasse. He wanted to write back to her. He didn't want any animosity between them, but he also felt indifferent to her. In a way he felt obligated to write back. It was a simple sense of not wanting to be hated. He felt he's had enough hate in his life already.
"Fuck it. Just go with it."
Dear Cho,
Apology accepted. If you've heard rumors about me, you've probably heard about my holidays. Needless to say I don't have much social experience and meeting up with Hermione, to me at least, wasn't imposing since there's nothing between us. Hermione laid it all out for me. So I understand. I'm at fault not you.
Well I wrote you back. Friends? Might be a stretch. It's not you really. Just...bad timing. I lost my godfather recently and I'm not really up for a lot of letters. I haven't really been writing Ron and Hermione either. But if you do feel like writing, I don't see any reason why I shouldn't write back. I guess it can help take my mind of him for a while.
Harry
He folded up the letter and left it by the window. He knew Hedwig would pick it up when she left for the night. He didn't bother to go over it again, he felt odd writing her and telling her about Sirius was even odder. Hermione did say something a while back about him opening up so easily.
This was true, in a sense. Since his first year it was easy to open up since he had never before had friends. Ron and Hermione were just prime examples. Though he couldn't yet picture sitting up all night in a common room with Cho talking about nothing and everything. Maybe it was because she still stirred some feelings inside and that if they did spend some time in the common room alone; talking would be last on his things-to-do list. He didn't feel guilty though. He would like to get to know a girl before becoming involved with them, but that didn't mean he couldn't fantasize.
'Hormones just seem to fuck things up…'
Girls didn't even register in his head until he came to Hogwarts. Now it was Voldemort, girls, school, girls, girls, and girls. It was hard to concentrate on the more important things…girls.
He decided to let his subconscious toy with the problem as he rolled from his desk to his bed.
"My life sucks…"
***
As slow a pace as Harry worked on the garden, he had finished in before the end of the week. All there was left to do was trim the hedges and those would be gone by tomorrow if he trimmed them any further. Nights were spent asleep or on the rooftop, the days now found Harry trying to fight boredom.
It had gotten to the point where both his Aunt and Uncle were satisfied with his work and sent him to his room well before lunch. Harry still wished he had taken even longer but working at a snails pace earned him an unacceptable growl from his Uncle. He was getting bored and he definitely didn't want to do any school work. That was his last ditch effort.
"A week into the summer and I actually have nothing to do…"
*Tap*
"Thank God."
Mail occupied a fraction of the time it used to now that it was the only thing he could do. Remus owled him daily so that was a sure thing. He was still waiting for Cho's letter though. Not with great anticipation, he convinced himself. Hermione was off to France again visiting family and he knew to expect a great mass of a letters when she returned since she'd be too busy with books and touring. Ron was living a minor dream as a quaffle boy for a Division two Quidditch team. Not the Cannons, but he was excited nonetheless and it explained his few letters.
"If it's from Cho I would not be surprised."
He scratched Hedwig behind the ear and she nipped him affectionately. He opened the letter and her handwriting lay within. Contrary to what he said he looked at it wide eyed and sat on his bed. He laid back and held the letter above his head.
Dear Harry,
Sorry it took so long to write back. Honestly I spent a while wondering what to say. And then I still have to help out in the Apothecary. (Our family runs one out on the Alley). I know being friends would be a stretch. I wouldn't have blamed you if you didn't write back much less blame you if you didn't want to be friends. No harm in writing though right? I'll be honest with you. When I write I tend to pour my heart out sometimes. Just tell me when I get out of hand.
Marietta was my best friend and I told her everything and now she won't speak to me because of last year. I haven't really been writing to anyone much so if you suddenly become my venting point I apologize in advance. But see now I'd feel bad writing about my problems to you. I mean how can anyone write about their problems to you? Nobody can compare. I mean if I said, "Harry my life is terrible my boyfriend dumped me!" You can just say "Hello bitch, You-know-who tried to kill me last week." That was a bit much wasn't it…
Sorry. I have to go. I have an early start tomorrow. My father dad is having an "early morning special" sale tomorrow. Please write back. Between homework, and working I am bored out of my mind. But whatever works. You know I won't expect a letter right away or anything. I mean I'm glad you wrote back, and I hope we can keep doing this, because I feel bad about last year and now I'm ranting. Sorry! I'll just end it here.
Bye,
Cho
Harry couldn't help but smile. It was another side of Cho he hadn't seen and she seemed more assertive and less like a crybaby. Harry mentally slapped himself at that thought. She lost Cedric and cried. He lost Sirius and cried, and still cries.
'Wow don't I feel like an asshole…'
Dear Cho,
I just had a revelation. I am really truly very sorry for berating you for crying. I feel like such an asshole. I didn't realize how you felt until just now when I thought of my godfather. I'm so sorry. I really don't know what to say. I feel terrible for treating you that way.
God now I don't know what else to write about. I don't mind being your venting point. Obviously I still got a lot to learn about you before I can judge. Again I'm sorry. Good luck with work tomorrow. Write back as much as you want.
Harry
***
Grey clouds typical to the British Isles rolled through the night sky in lightened streaks. Still Harry watched the stars though now with a displaced interest. His nights on the roof were meant for his memories of Sirius and he would look for the Dog Star near the constellation of Orion every night. Now though, he happily found his thoughts else where. Mostly on how he had treated Cho during the year. It was disturbing to think about but it was a different train of though Harry gladly found himself on. He looked into his thoughts like a pensieve and saw someone he didn't recognize as himself. But then so much has happened that he couldn't recognize his eleven year old self. So much has changed around him that he had to force himself to grow up, and from what he saw, he wasn't very successful. He had the maturity of someone half his age and was ashamed.
Harry liked to think of himself as sensitive and humble, mature for his age and caring. Yet he let his emotions control him. He figured when he was old enough he could attribute all of this to adolescence. Adults always said growing up was hard.
'They sure as hell weren't lying…but I don't think anyone had to deal with life threats on a consistent basis.'
He brought his eyes back to the stars, which were punctuated by the occasional blinking lights of a commercial airliner. The clouds became a thin haze and Harry could only see the brightest of planets and stars. It would be an early night for him this time he thought, as he crawled back down and into his window. His clock read 1:12 in bright red digits.
"I need a better way to spend my Saturdays…"
***
It seemed like the sun as just begun to rise when Harry had lain down. And now as he cracked his eyes open, the sun had hardly moved. He felt rested nonetheless. The house would be empty in about an hour and would remain so at least until evening. Dudley had signed up for a boxing tournament and they were hoping he would fare well. Even if he hadn't his trainer recommended he stay behind and analyze future opponents. Proud as his parents were, they heartily agreed to the training he would gain from such an event.
He didn't bother to wait until they had woken up to start cleaning. He had mopped the floor the night previous and waxing it seemed like a good idea. So absorbed in his buffing he hardly noticed them leave. It was the demanding from his Uncle that he keep to his room and the slamming of the door that jarred his attention from the floor. He heard the family car start, pull out of the drive way and speed off to carry Dudley to his tournament.
It was like a release for him as Harry jumped up and sighed loudly. The Dursleys had never left him to the house. Though he suspected that him not being allowed to do magic, his silent obedience and the constant threat of that "Freak with the Eye" to come over or at least some…outside influence had something to do with it. He blared the television and the radio on no particular channel and screamed obscenities to their many happy portraits.
"Enjoying yourself?"
Harry froze. With the radio and television as loud as they were, he didn't recognize the voice. Just that there was a voice behind him. He felt a tap on his shoulder and he slowly turned around…
And was bombarded by a visual shock to his senses.
Nymphadora Tonks was a metamorphagus. In every instance he saw her, her hair and facial features were wild and were meant to draw stares.
Every time she was successful.
"Tonks! You scared me! What are you doing here?"
She flicked her wand about and the television and radio lowered their respective volumes. She lazily sat in Uncle Vernon's cushy lounge chair.
"Just stopping by to make sure you're alright. I'm on shift right now and bored out of my skull. Figg's a nice old lady but she was really grating my nerves today. I figured I'd give you a break for once. A little legilimens convinced Dursley he really needed to go out today."
Harry smiled and went to the kitchen to fetch something to drink.
"Shocking as it is, you're the first friendly face I've seen in a long while. I've had too much time to my thoughts lately."
She sat up and looked at him seriously.
"Are you alright Harry? Do you need anything?"
"No, no I'm fine, really. I'm getting along on my own just fine. Juice?"
Oddly enough his heart felt like it was speaking truth. Something as ensnaring as a friendly face easily pulled Harry from depressing thoughts.
"Please. But seriously Harry, we're all here for you. I'm probably the closest to your age so if you're more comfortable talking to me I can come over whenever you like. Sending those muggles away is hardly a chore."
"Tonks seriously I'm fine." He sat down and looked at her thinking. "How old are you anyway?"
He handed her a glass which she sipped as eagerly.
"Twenty-two. A proud Ravenclaw to boot."
"Ravenclaw huh? You don't seem like the book type."
Tonks laughed out loud and her green spikes changed to pink.
"Yeah that's what everyone says. Like I shoulda been in Gryffindor or something."
"The girl I'm writing to is in Ravenclaw." He said casually, drinking down his glass.
"Oh a girl...friend?" She hunched forwarded and eyed him anxiously.
"No, well, I tried. We tried, but I messed it up. I'm actually over her. We just recently started writing to each other. But if you come back in a month I'm sure I can give you some juicy stuff to spread around."
Tonks feigned ignorance and a look of shock.
"Harry Potter what ever are you talking about?"
"Absolutely nothing…you just seemed like the gossip type."
"I'm hurt!" Again she feigned her emotions prompting a grin on Harry's part.
"So it's not true then?"
She paused, breaking under his gaze.
"Alright, so I had a big mouth. Keyword there Potter. Had. Don't worry your secret is safe with the Order."
"The Order?"
"I mean me…"
"Riiiiight."
The two just laughed as their attention switched to the TV. Harry flipped around until he settled on the news. Which seemed like a good choice at the time?
Top story today. A man is found dead in Surrey. Cause is undetermined. Reports state there were no physical wounds and autopsy reports no toxins or poisons. It's a medical mystery doctors cannot seem to solve.
The victim was reported to be out walking to his apartment flat late last night from a local pub. There were no eyewitnesses…
Tonks slowly rose from the lounge chair.
"I'm sure you'll understand Harry?"
"Right, just make sure I'm not alone out here again. "
She cracked a smile as she stepped out the door.
"Don't worry. I got your back." And the door clicked shut. This time she had managed not to trip over anything.
Harry didn't know how he should feel at the moment. It was really nice to have someone to talk to for once. It made the time fly by. But then the muggle news about a suspicious death? Waiting with baited breath for Voldemort's next move was wrenching, but having him make his move and take a life with it was equally troubling.
He gripped his wand which hung at his waist from a leather holster Remus had sent him. He was sure they were dementors. Hopefully his guard would be able to help him out this time around.
Pacing around the entirety of the house was the only thing Harry could do to keep from going insane. He definitely wasn't about to finish buffing the floor. He didn't want to do anything except cast a patronus charm and be done with it.
But then, darkness doesn't work on the same schedule as the good guys.
***
"Wake up boy!"
Harry jolted up from the couch to see his Uncle Vernon staring daggers at him. He stood on the half buffed floor, pointing at the point where Harry had decided to quit.
"You've been doing a good job of NOT aggravating thus far boy, so I am not going to waste my breath on you. We are tired and are going to bed. This floor had better have a mirror shine in the morning. Do you understand?"
"Yes Uncle Vernon."
Harry cursed himself for falling asleep. Obviously dementors hadn't stopped by to say hello so he let out a sigh of relief. With hope, whom ever was watching him would be able to take care of them before he had to.
Kneeling onto the floor, Harry picked up the buffer pad and resumed the chore to polish the floor. It was tedious and boring, but the satisfaction of exhaustion in his arms was enough. He was glad his uncle hadn't noticed the two empty glasses on the coffee table, and even more so the light shade of lipstick on one of them.
'God knows how much trouble I'd be in for that…'
He finished the floor and washed the two glasses well before the midnight chimes rang in the grandfather clock. He tore away his shirt and pulled his sheets over his head. Despite his nap and state of alertness he had, he wanted to sleep some more. He paid no mind to the two letters that sat on his desk or the stink that permeated through his pillow.
And for once Harry resolved to worry about things tomorrow.