Title: The Harrying of Harry Potter
Authors: Moonylovesme and Jyderman. Couldn't have done it without eachother.
Rating: PG-13 (for some kinky, slashyness)
Summary: The building of frustration and the release thereof.
Disclaimer: We own not, despite all of our constant praying to the great Harry Potter gods. The sacrifices havn't taken effect yet.
Authors Note: Review. Please. And look at Jyderman. MOONY COMMANDS! Good shit.
"So, let me get this straight, old man. You knew, since before I was even born, that I was destined, by this infernal prophecy, to save the bloody world.Yet, you never saw fit to inform me, in all my five years of knowing you, about this pretty enormous detail."
Dumbledore seemed stunned at the response. It was an unexpected reaction, the possibility unforeseen by even himself.
"Well –", he attempted to regain control of the already spiraling situation, but was abruptly interrupted.
"And while you knew, knew, I was supposed to be saving the world, you let me stay at the Dursley's, miserable and alone, with only the spiders that inhabited my cupboard for company."
"Harry, my boy, we couldn't have possibly –"
"Bull. Shit."
Dumbledore got the idea that Harry might be getting a wee bit angry, if one was to judge by the rattling trinkets lining his walls. His pensive, in fact, seemed dangerously close to falling, yet Harry paid it no mind.
Now that he looked closely he couldn't help but notice that Harry's eyes had a distinct gleam, one that could only be described as smoldering rage. They were no longer the deep emerald he had inherited from his mother, but instead eerily reminiscent of the precise shade of the killing curse itself.
The room was considerably darker than it had been when Harry had first entered it, and the cheeriness of Dumbledore's office was all but completely shattered under Harry's growing...agitation.
"I know you knew! You– you- conniving, manipulative, old, BASTARD!"
A gust of wind whipped around the office knocking the already teetering pensive from its delicate perch, sending it crashing to the floor.
Dumbledore let out a barelyperceptable wince. There go half of his memories. He would be worried, but could deal with it later. Right now he had a bigger problem to deal with.
"You didn't even bother to cover your own tracks!" Harry continued, "My bloody Hogwarts letter was addressed personally by your bloody deputy-headmistress to the cupboard under the bloody fucking stairs. And what about that Figg woman! I know for a fact that she's not blind; she had many an opportunity to inform you of my situation. Not to mention all those times I had to sit for tea at her cabbage reeking house, which, by the way,was absolutely covered in cat hair, and not once, not once, did she mention the existence of either the wizarding world or the Dark Lord."
"Well, I instructed her—"
"YOU INSTRUCTED HER!"
Perhaps that hadn't been the best thing to say. A suppressive silence fell over the office and Harry folded his arms primly across his chest.
"What if I said 'No', eh Dumbledore? What would you do then? You're precious Boy-Who-lLved unwilling to save this group of overgrown flobberworms that you insist on calling an intelligent society? WHAT THEN!"
The silence continued, Dumbledore still struck speechless.
"What? No plan of action? Well you better THINK OF ONE SOON, BECAUSE I'M LEAVING!"
"What? You can't leave! You're the Boy-Who-Lived!" Dumbledorestuttered, attempting to mask is ever growing panic.
"Bloody right I'm the Boy-Who-Lived!" Harry exploded back, "I'll do as I please!"
"But Harry –"
"Don't call me Harry, old man."
"You won't even allow me to address you as Harry now?"
Harry's fury was no longer the raging inferno it was before, it became cooler somehow.
"There are a lot of Harrys."
Dumbledore paled, remembering the same phrase uttered by the currently reigning Dark Lord.
"Don't worry you old fool." Harry snapped, "I don't plan on becoming the next Dark Lord. I simply won't do anything. I will remain neutral in this war; both sides have suddenly become rather unappealing, certain death being the only option on either end, and I can't say I find that ideavery attractive."
Dumbeldore'svoice held a desperate edge to it now, "My boy, you can't lay blame on the entire wizarding world for the mistakes of a single old man."
"And why bloody not? I seem to recall many times when the entire wizarding world seemed content to turn their backs against me when it suited them." Harry adopted a more predatory stance, one hand cupping his face, the other twirling his wand casually. "Let me see if I can recall the exact words - 'violently unbalanced' was it? Mind you, I got this information from Hermione. It wasn't as if I was allowed access to a bloody NEWSPAPER. I think I have every right to do what I'm doing. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a crumbling world to watch."
Harry pivoted on his heel, robes flaring dramatically as he departed, leaving a speechless headmaster, and battered office in his wake
Draco looked up as a curiously calm Harry entered the room with a decidedly satisfied smirk upon his face.
"You feel better now, Harry?"
"Much, thank you. I do, however, still have some frustration I need to work off."
Draco raised an elegant brow, homework now completely forgotten, "Anything I can do to help?"
"I'm sure you can think of something." he said before muttering under his breath, "Now, where's the bedroom in this place?"
Harry stomped off in one direction while Draco swayed his hips playfully as he waltzed ahead.
"This way, Harry dear."
Twenty minutes, many moans, and a pair of handcuffs later, Draco lay on his back attempting to catch his breath.
"Thank you, Dumbledore."
"What was that, Draco?"
"Nothing dear." He responded lightly before rolling over and stroking Harry's arm seductively
"Care for another go?"