Delusions of Grandiose
A/N: Wow, I've hit an all time low. 2 reviews. Thanks a heap to all those who didn't review (sarcasm).
Thanks to:
Parody-of-an-Angel: Thank you! You'll see! I've updated, it took a while, for that I apologize.
Alan Quicksilver: Thanks! I hope you'll look forward to the next chapter with equal fervor.
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Chapter 5
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Where do I go now? Do I find some worn down hotel? Do I sleep under a bridge? Do I try to find the Weasleys? Or do they still hate me for Ron and Hermione? Do I look for Lupin? I didn't think about any of this. I finally know how institutionalized I am. There was no 'what then?' for me. Escaping was a dream to be only dreamed of, not achieved.
A woman stares at me as she walks past in what appear to be five inch heels. I know I must look sick, I don't eat much and they like to feed me through needles when I don't. At least that doesn't involve plastic cutlery.
I've lived out of the world for so long that the loudness and business of it all makes me dizzy.
It takes another look around for the situation to penetrate my foggy mind. I have no idea where I am. Bloody hell.
"Excuse me," I try to grab one of the passing locals.
She shakes me off with a disgusted look.
I try again. "Could you tell me-" He looks more frightened than revolted.
I wonder how I end up here, somewhere off the map, with nothing. You'd think after everything in my life things could only get better. You'd think wrong.
"Pardon, sir-" I even try to be polite. The man reminds me strangely of Vernon.
Just as I reach out to harass another woman something completely unpredictable and unlikely happens. Something all odds are against.
I see Draco Malfoy.
The blond haired prick in the flesh. Looking older, yes, but undoubtedly the one and only Draco Malfoy.
He stops. His eyes widen. He's seen me. It takes a split second of control to fight the urge to run.
"Potter!" He yells from across the street. I would stupefy him if I had my wand. But I don't and my next option would be to run and never look back. I stop myself because Malfoy seems to be the only person who wants to talk to me in this hectic city.
He crosses and I wonder if he'll get run over before he reaches me. It would be ironic, wouldn't it? But he doesn't, it was a close call.
"What the hell are you doing here?" He sounds surprised, stunned even, a priceless look on his face.
"What are you doing here?" I reply, keeping my tone even, in control.
He stares at me in silence for a few seconds, before he shakes his head. "Shit Potter, do you even know where you are?" Malfoy hasn't lost that superior sneer.
I don't want to tell him I don't. But I don't. "Not particularly."
"America, Potter, America!" Really? I'm hardly surprised. Lock me up in a different country, no one would ever find me in this lost continent.
"And you are here... why?" Running away, was he?
"You do realize everyone in the wizarding world thinks you're insane?"
"Do I sound insane, Malfoy?" I genuinely want to know this. Is there something in my voice that screams 'insane!'?
To my surprise Malfoy laughs. "I've always thought you were crazy but this is ridiculous."
I throw away all my worries about Malfoy, he's my chance, my opportunity and I'll be damned if I don't take that opportunity. "Get me out of this country, I'll pay you."
"Back to Britain I suppose?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow at me, he was one of those people who managed to convey a lot through a raised eyebrow. I wince as I realize I don't actually have any money, the ministry would've taken it when I got shipped away. I also realize Malfoy would know that too.
"Anywhere away from here." A large man bustles past me, his elbow contacting my back in a painful gesture, I wince. I've already decided I hate America.
He looks me over with a calculating glance which reminds me of when we were back in school. "I can do that."
(/)
Malfoy is staying in a hotel that can only be described with one phrase. Five star. It even smells outrageously expensive.
"So you don't live here?" I ask, wondering what Malfoy, the muggle-hating ex Death Eater (from what I've guessed), is doing in muggle New York.
"I'm here on business." Not running away then.
"What business?" I don't expect him to answer.
And he doesn't. "Why should I tell you?"
"Why shouldn't you? I'm insane, who am I going to tell?"
I have no problem calling myself insane, sometimes I think it might be the correct term.
"Shut up Potter, I'm doing you a favor." He's right, he is doing me a favor, I wouldn't help me were I him.
"When do we leave?" More to the point, how do we leave?
"Tomorrow morning. Be awake at 4 or I leave you behind."
4? In the morning? What a bloody stupid idea.
"Try seven." I say sarcastically. There is no way I'm going to get up at 4 o'clock in the morning.
"Try you stay here forever." Malfoy retorts, mocking my tone perfectly. I would find that amusing were I not so horrified over my schedule. "The plane leaves at six, we have to be there at five. You are going to get up at four."
I heard nothing after the word plane. "Excuse me?" I whisper.
Malfoy looks at me, annoyed. "We have to be there at five-"
"We're taking a plane?" I ask before he can finish.
A slow and evil grin appears on the man's face. "Yes, we are."
"Why the fuck can't we apparate?!"
The grin stays in place. "Do you have your wand, Potter?" I don't say anything. I don't have my wand, I haven't seen it since before Voldie got to me.
"Fuck." I hate planes. I hate the idea of planes. I've never actually been on one.
Malfoy already seems to be bored of the conversation.
"Put on some respectable clothes, Potter, you look like you've just stumbled out of a hospital."
I stare down at the white top and pants and I agree. A hospital or a loony bin. The interns sure had a boring uniform.
"Do you think I have any other clothes? What would I have, considering where I've been?" I snap, angry at the reminder of my lack of possessions.
There is a pause, a look of confusion. "Where have you been, Potter?"
I gape at him. What is he talking about? "You mean you don't know?"
"Well Dumbledore said you'd run away, said you were insane, couldn't be helped. I never quite did believe him about the insane part, but I thought you'd took your money and ran away." I laugh inside. Funny, that's what I thought you did.
The inescapable irony of the whole deal is overwhelming. I finally let it get to me and I laugh until tears are running down my cheeks, and I keep laughing. Malfoy is looking at me like I'm was crazy but I can't stop. It's too funny.
"I was in an muggle mental hospital," I finally managed to gasp out, my ribs are aching but I still can't stop. "I just escaped."
Malfoy is speechless. His mouth is moving up and down but he's saying nothing. It just makes the whole situation funnier.
"For Merlin's- Potter, shut up. This is not the slightest bit funny. You are bloody insane." Malfoy's tired voice brings me back down to earth. I stop laughing and swallow it. He's right for once. The colossal prick is right. This isn't funny.
"Do you know who put you there?" He asks. Everything in this room smells off and I can't help but feel uncomfortable as he stares at me seriously.
"Dumbledore." I mutter. I wonder if the old man is following me right now. "He's here."
"In New York?" Malfoy asks in surprise.
"He came to... visit... me."
"What did he say?" He sounded interested. Not a good sign.
"Didn't wait around to hear it."
"Fucking hell."
"You're profane."
"Time does that to you."
"You haven't changed a bit."
"I wish I could say the same about you." Malfoy sounds tired again. Exhausted. I wonder what has happened while I've been out. Voldemort's gone but it sounds like there's a whole new problem. I'll interrogate Malfoy tomorrow.
I pass off the comment to settle something I've been wondering about since we got here. Besides the small worry of being stabbed in the chest in the middle of the night. Dinner.
"Do I get fed, Malfoy?"
He stares at me, I've interrupted his mumbling to himself. "I'll call room service." He stands up. Before he reaches the phone I remember something.
"Tell them I want silver cutlery." He stops at looks back, his icy gray eyes on me.
"What else would they give you?" He's shaking his head like I'm something that can't be helped.
"Just tell them, not plastic."
I don't care that it's a five star hotel in New York. I don't care that it's highly unlikely that they'd give me plastic knives and forks. The odds have always been against me, after all, look who I ran into today, look at my whole life! I just care that I don't eat my first real dinner in three years with plastic cutlery.
(/)
End of chapter 5
The little 'Submit Review' is there for a reason. Obviously very few of you can make use of it. Pfft. What do I care? I love this fic!
A/N: Wow, I've hit an all time low. 2 reviews. Thanks a heap to all those who didn't review (sarcasm).
Thanks to:
Parody-of-an-Angel: Thank you! You'll see! I've updated, it took a while, for that I apologize.
Alan Quicksilver: Thanks! I hope you'll look forward to the next chapter with equal fervor.
(/)
Chapter 5
(/)
Where do I go now? Do I find some worn down hotel? Do I sleep under a bridge? Do I try to find the Weasleys? Or do they still hate me for Ron and Hermione? Do I look for Lupin? I didn't think about any of this. I finally know how institutionalized I am. There was no 'what then?' for me. Escaping was a dream to be only dreamed of, not achieved.
A woman stares at me as she walks past in what appear to be five inch heels. I know I must look sick, I don't eat much and they like to feed me through needles when I don't. At least that doesn't involve plastic cutlery.
I've lived out of the world for so long that the loudness and business of it all makes me dizzy.
It takes another look around for the situation to penetrate my foggy mind. I have no idea where I am. Bloody hell.
"Excuse me," I try to grab one of the passing locals.
She shakes me off with a disgusted look.
I try again. "Could you tell me-" He looks more frightened than revolted.
I wonder how I end up here, somewhere off the map, with nothing. You'd think after everything in my life things could only get better. You'd think wrong.
"Pardon, sir-" I even try to be polite. The man reminds me strangely of Vernon.
Just as I reach out to harass another woman something completely unpredictable and unlikely happens. Something all odds are against.
I see Draco Malfoy.
The blond haired prick in the flesh. Looking older, yes, but undoubtedly the one and only Draco Malfoy.
He stops. His eyes widen. He's seen me. It takes a split second of control to fight the urge to run.
"Potter!" He yells from across the street. I would stupefy him if I had my wand. But I don't and my next option would be to run and never look back. I stop myself because Malfoy seems to be the only person who wants to talk to me in this hectic city.
He crosses and I wonder if he'll get run over before he reaches me. It would be ironic, wouldn't it? But he doesn't, it was a close call.
"What the hell are you doing here?" He sounds surprised, stunned even, a priceless look on his face.
"What are you doing here?" I reply, keeping my tone even, in control.
He stares at me in silence for a few seconds, before he shakes his head. "Shit Potter, do you even know where you are?" Malfoy hasn't lost that superior sneer.
I don't want to tell him I don't. But I don't. "Not particularly."
"America, Potter, America!" Really? I'm hardly surprised. Lock me up in a different country, no one would ever find me in this lost continent.
"And you are here... why?" Running away, was he?
"You do realize everyone in the wizarding world thinks you're insane?"
"Do I sound insane, Malfoy?" I genuinely want to know this. Is there something in my voice that screams 'insane!'?
To my surprise Malfoy laughs. "I've always thought you were crazy but this is ridiculous."
I throw away all my worries about Malfoy, he's my chance, my opportunity and I'll be damned if I don't take that opportunity. "Get me out of this country, I'll pay you."
"Back to Britain I suppose?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow at me, he was one of those people who managed to convey a lot through a raised eyebrow. I wince as I realize I don't actually have any money, the ministry would've taken it when I got shipped away. I also realize Malfoy would know that too.
"Anywhere away from here." A large man bustles past me, his elbow contacting my back in a painful gesture, I wince. I've already decided I hate America.
He looks me over with a calculating glance which reminds me of when we were back in school. "I can do that."
(/)
Malfoy is staying in a hotel that can only be described with one phrase. Five star. It even smells outrageously expensive.
"So you don't live here?" I ask, wondering what Malfoy, the muggle-hating ex Death Eater (from what I've guessed), is doing in muggle New York.
"I'm here on business." Not running away then.
"What business?" I don't expect him to answer.
And he doesn't. "Why should I tell you?"
"Why shouldn't you? I'm insane, who am I going to tell?"
I have no problem calling myself insane, sometimes I think it might be the correct term.
"Shut up Potter, I'm doing you a favor." He's right, he is doing me a favor, I wouldn't help me were I him.
"When do we leave?" More to the point, how do we leave?
"Tomorrow morning. Be awake at 4 or I leave you behind."
4? In the morning? What a bloody stupid idea.
"Try seven." I say sarcastically. There is no way I'm going to get up at 4 o'clock in the morning.
"Try you stay here forever." Malfoy retorts, mocking my tone perfectly. I would find that amusing were I not so horrified over my schedule. "The plane leaves at six, we have to be there at five. You are going to get up at four."
I heard nothing after the word plane. "Excuse me?" I whisper.
Malfoy looks at me, annoyed. "We have to be there at five-"
"We're taking a plane?" I ask before he can finish.
A slow and evil grin appears on the man's face. "Yes, we are."
"Why the fuck can't we apparate?!"
The grin stays in place. "Do you have your wand, Potter?" I don't say anything. I don't have my wand, I haven't seen it since before Voldie got to me.
"Fuck." I hate planes. I hate the idea of planes. I've never actually been on one.
Malfoy already seems to be bored of the conversation.
"Put on some respectable clothes, Potter, you look like you've just stumbled out of a hospital."
I stare down at the white top and pants and I agree. A hospital or a loony bin. The interns sure had a boring uniform.
"Do you think I have any other clothes? What would I have, considering where I've been?" I snap, angry at the reminder of my lack of possessions.
There is a pause, a look of confusion. "Where have you been, Potter?"
I gape at him. What is he talking about? "You mean you don't know?"
"Well Dumbledore said you'd run away, said you were insane, couldn't be helped. I never quite did believe him about the insane part, but I thought you'd took your money and ran away." I laugh inside. Funny, that's what I thought you did.
The inescapable irony of the whole deal is overwhelming. I finally let it get to me and I laugh until tears are running down my cheeks, and I keep laughing. Malfoy is looking at me like I'm was crazy but I can't stop. It's too funny.
"I was in an muggle mental hospital," I finally managed to gasp out, my ribs are aching but I still can't stop. "I just escaped."
Malfoy is speechless. His mouth is moving up and down but he's saying nothing. It just makes the whole situation funnier.
"For Merlin's- Potter, shut up. This is not the slightest bit funny. You are bloody insane." Malfoy's tired voice brings me back down to earth. I stop laughing and swallow it. He's right for once. The colossal prick is right. This isn't funny.
"Do you know who put you there?" He asks. Everything in this room smells off and I can't help but feel uncomfortable as he stares at me seriously.
"Dumbledore." I mutter. I wonder if the old man is following me right now. "He's here."
"In New York?" Malfoy asks in surprise.
"He came to... visit... me."
"What did he say?" He sounded interested. Not a good sign.
"Didn't wait around to hear it."
"Fucking hell."
"You're profane."
"Time does that to you."
"You haven't changed a bit."
"I wish I could say the same about you." Malfoy sounds tired again. Exhausted. I wonder what has happened while I've been out. Voldemort's gone but it sounds like there's a whole new problem. I'll interrogate Malfoy tomorrow.
I pass off the comment to settle something I've been wondering about since we got here. Besides the small worry of being stabbed in the chest in the middle of the night. Dinner.
"Do I get fed, Malfoy?"
He stares at me, I've interrupted his mumbling to himself. "I'll call room service." He stands up. Before he reaches the phone I remember something.
"Tell them I want silver cutlery." He stops at looks back, his icy gray eyes on me.
"What else would they give you?" He's shaking his head like I'm something that can't be helped.
"Just tell them, not plastic."
I don't care that it's a five star hotel in New York. I don't care that it's highly unlikely that they'd give me plastic knives and forks. The odds have always been against me, after all, look who I ran into today, look at my whole life! I just care that I don't eat my first real dinner in three years with plastic cutlery.
(/)
End of chapter 5
The little 'Submit Review' is there for a reason. Obviously very few of you can make use of it. Pfft. What do I care? I love this fic!