Thanks to: SidheLady (apologies accepted happily!), JaCee, Gracie, DeathzBeauty, blulily07, Elven Warrior1.
Alan Quicksilver: ... I feel bad now! I know I'm working on an ungodly amount of stories, I don't actually expect to have people waiting for chapters (I'm still not used to it), so I write at my own pace. I believe this story requires the right frame of mind as well, so that's what influences when I write it. I hope I can be forgiven and I will try to get in the right frame of mind more often!
Crescendo: About Draco: you'll see. There was no paying for the disposal of Voldemort, Harry was abandoned and did it on his own to escape. The wizarding world were told some lies about Harry, which we will discover later on.
Parody-of-an-Angel: All is forgiven, and cutlery will appear more later on, so be prepared!
c[R]ud[E]dly: Resists puppydogeyes(TM) valiantly and finally succeeds. Regretfully, I have to say no to that one. It doesn't fit where this is going.
Chapter 6
I'm beginning to wake up. Bugger. It's so warm in here. It's like being in an oven. I roll over sleepily. And hit a soft, cushiony floor. That's right. I look up at the couch, a faint sour taste in the back of my mouth. Stupid thing.
"Potter, you've ruined my fun." The familiar drawl of Draco Malfoy drifts from the doorway. I stare up at him through the haze. I notice his hair is as immaculate as ever. Even at whatever unholy hour this is.
"What a shame." I manage to spit out. I'm starving.
"You have half an hour to be ready."
I don't even need a quarter. I have no possessions, I even have to ask him for clothes, which I haven't done yet (no doubt all his clothes are gold trimmed or silk).
"You'll need clothing," Right in one. "You may borrow some of mine," That said with a sneer of distaste. "Here is your passport." He throws a small book at me. It has my picture on the inside.
When did he have time to get this? When I was sleeping?
I look up at him. I don't know what the stupid thing is. "Well?"
"For fucks sake." He says, frustration showing through the arrogance, I think I'm causing strain. How nice. "It will get you through customs."
Again I stare at him. Does he not get it? "And customs is?"
"Muggle security." He answers shortly. Malfoy takes one last glance around the room. "I'll get you some clothes." He leaves.
I look over the small book. If Malfoy can get this thing this easily, muggle security is crap.
---
Malfoy's clothes are comfortable but I feel a bit like a poof. Silk shirts are not my thing.
"What happened to everybody?" I ask quietly, the plane is too loud for anyone but Malfoy to hear me anyway. The people behind us are practically yelling at each other, a married couple in an argument. According to her he's had an affair, is shipping his mistress over to London on this same plane, and planning to leave her when they get there. According to him, she only thinks he's having an affair because she's always out, and he told everyone on the plane they don't have sex anymore.
I'm a little shocked Malfoy answers, he's been quiet for the first hour. "Most of them died in the last stretch of the war. Weasley and Granger died, as you know, they were just the beginning."
"I didn't do that." I mutter. Everyone's always suspected I did. The Weasleys took a step away from me, the sort of friendly coldness you expect from in-laws. Fudge took the matter head on but was fobbed off by Dumbledore (one thing I can thank the old coot for). "What about Snape?"
"Alive. Fine. Trying to retire from teaching, Dumbledore insists he stay until another Potions Professor is available." Snape was one person I fully expected to die in the war. It wasn't too bad to be proved wrong.
I sat back in the seat. I still don't know why I ended up in America.
The couple are now giving each other the silent treatment and waiting the trip out. I heft myself around.
There's a spare seat between them. I figure, why not?
As I'm doing up the seat belt happily both of them are staring at me. This is much better than sitting next to Malfoy, who discreetly gives me disdainful looks. It can't be because I'm ungroomed, Nurse Betty was rather expert at shaving, my hair is so short is has no room to be messy like it once was, the only downside of this is that my scar is painstakingly obvious. Why Nurse Betty could cut my hair when I was even more miserable there than I was at the Dursleys. Maybe because she was a pretty girl who looked to be only 20.
"Is it true, then?" I ask, genuinely curious, probably due to my pitifully isolated life for the past three years.
"Is what true?" The lady, Carrie from what I'd heard, replied stiffly.
"No sex for the past year?" I don't know how these two could sleep in the same bed for a year and not have sex, it must be a pretty big dispute, considering the woman is almost as pretty as Nurse Betty is, in her mid-thirties and the husband isn't bad looking either.
"I don't see how it's your business." The man snaps, looking uncomfortable. I'm not surprised, I have invaded their personal space.
I laugh easily. "I think that your business has turned into everyone's business on this plane by now."
Now they both fidget guiltily.
"Look, you're going on holiday, you should have a good time, why don't you sort this out now?"
There's a long, drawn-out silence in which they alternate their gazes from me to each other. This may be a deprived man's entertainment but I find it amusing anyway.
"She's cheating on me!" Edward finally bursts out, his face red with embarrassment (probably from me butting into their dispute) and anger (from his suspicions).
"What?! You're cheating on me, you bastard!" Carrie glares at him.
I see. What jealousy does to a relationship.
"I think it's safe to say neither of you are straying." I say after they've had their little staring contest.
"What do you know?"
"What don't we all know? You're practically putting your broken marriage on an in-flight entertainment documentary." I don't point out that it was actually a whole lot better than the shit that's playing at the moment.
They fidget guiltily once more, the tired circles under their eyes more prominently displayed now their dagger glares have disappeared.
I want to fix their marriage. I'm a sad, lonely man who has been stuffed into a mental hospital in a foreign country by people he trusted and wants to repair a marriage he has nothing to do with. If that man were not me I would laugh. I laugh loudly anyway, drawing confused glances from the couple and anyone who overheard the conversation.
Edward and Carrie ignore me for as long as possible before Ed cracks.
"What's so funny?" He asks, sounding like a petulant child.
I don't answer, just keep the smile on my face. It reminds me I'm real.
"You two. You could be happy yet you both throw it away for this argument. Do you enjoy it?"
I admit it's my turn to feel guilty when Carrie bursts into tears. She burrows her head into my shoulder and I'm not sure what I should be doing.
"I love him, but he doesn't love me!" She wails. Ed tries to look unconcerned. He fails.
"I'm sure he loves you." I give Ed a pointed look.
He hesitates but says it anyway. "I do love you."
"You love her more!"
"There is no her, Carrie, I'm not cheating on you!"
It's sweet really, her crying into the stranger's shoulder, her husband denying the adultery accusations, all the while being increasingly sickening.
"Really?" She whispers.
"Really." He kisses her.
All this right in front of my face. Her elbow is pressing sharply into my shoulder. Malfoy's shirt is damp now, sticking to my side. I feel out of place. And there's a painful pang in my chest as I try not to watch them.
"Merlin, you guys are slow." I sigh, the use of 'Merlin' earning a confused glance from the couple.
They spend the rest of the flight snogging shamelessly. I'm not sure which was worse, their arguing or their making up.
They both thank me on the way out, giving me their number and saying they owed me one. No doubt it will be a very happy vacation for them.
Malfoy looks slightly less grateful.
"What was that show about?!" He spits out. "They were muggles!"
I feel my temper rising. "I can do what I like, Malfoy, you can't stop me!"
"Dumbledore was right, you are fucking crazy!"
"Whatever, Malfoy."
But as we walk out of long sterile looking hallway, Malfoy begins to look nervous. The more nervous he gets, the more nervous I get. What is he worried about? I reluctantly follow beside him.
"Potter, you aren't a bad human being."
"Thank you," I remark dryly. Let it be known, Malfoy isn't one for tact.
"It was good thinking to shut the muggles up."
What's he getting at?
"You know, maybe you should have stayed in America. No one would recognize the 'famous Boy-Who-Lived' there. You could have lived anonymously."
This isn't like Malfoy at all, what's going on.
"I'm beginning to wonder if I'm doing the right thing after all," He continues.
Something is terribly wrong.
"Mr. Potter!" Dumbledore. No.
I turn to Malfoy.
Somehow I manage to read an apology in his blank expression. The prick.
I run.
Alan Quicksilver: ... I feel bad now! I know I'm working on an ungodly amount of stories, I don't actually expect to have people waiting for chapters (I'm still not used to it), so I write at my own pace. I believe this story requires the right frame of mind as well, so that's what influences when I write it. I hope I can be forgiven and I will try to get in the right frame of mind more often!
Crescendo: About Draco: you'll see. There was no paying for the disposal of Voldemort, Harry was abandoned and did it on his own to escape. The wizarding world were told some lies about Harry, which we will discover later on.
Parody-of-an-Angel: All is forgiven, and cutlery will appear more later on, so be prepared!
c[R]ud[E]dly: Resists puppydogeyes(TM) valiantly and finally succeeds. Regretfully, I have to say no to that one. It doesn't fit where this is going.
Chapter 6
I'm beginning to wake up. Bugger. It's so warm in here. It's like being in an oven. I roll over sleepily. And hit a soft, cushiony floor. That's right. I look up at the couch, a faint sour taste in the back of my mouth. Stupid thing.
"Potter, you've ruined my fun." The familiar drawl of Draco Malfoy drifts from the doorway. I stare up at him through the haze. I notice his hair is as immaculate as ever. Even at whatever unholy hour this is.
"What a shame." I manage to spit out. I'm starving.
"You have half an hour to be ready."
I don't even need a quarter. I have no possessions, I even have to ask him for clothes, which I haven't done yet (no doubt all his clothes are gold trimmed or silk).
"You'll need clothing," Right in one. "You may borrow some of mine," That said with a sneer of distaste. "Here is your passport." He throws a small book at me. It has my picture on the inside.
When did he have time to get this? When I was sleeping?
I look up at him. I don't know what the stupid thing is. "Well?"
"For fucks sake." He says, frustration showing through the arrogance, I think I'm causing strain. How nice. "It will get you through customs."
Again I stare at him. Does he not get it? "And customs is?"
"Muggle security." He answers shortly. Malfoy takes one last glance around the room. "I'll get you some clothes." He leaves.
I look over the small book. If Malfoy can get this thing this easily, muggle security is crap.
---
Malfoy's clothes are comfortable but I feel a bit like a poof. Silk shirts are not my thing.
"What happened to everybody?" I ask quietly, the plane is too loud for anyone but Malfoy to hear me anyway. The people behind us are practically yelling at each other, a married couple in an argument. According to her he's had an affair, is shipping his mistress over to London on this same plane, and planning to leave her when they get there. According to him, she only thinks he's having an affair because she's always out, and he told everyone on the plane they don't have sex anymore.
I'm a little shocked Malfoy answers, he's been quiet for the first hour. "Most of them died in the last stretch of the war. Weasley and Granger died, as you know, they were just the beginning."
"I didn't do that." I mutter. Everyone's always suspected I did. The Weasleys took a step away from me, the sort of friendly coldness you expect from in-laws. Fudge took the matter head on but was fobbed off by Dumbledore (one thing I can thank the old coot for). "What about Snape?"
"Alive. Fine. Trying to retire from teaching, Dumbledore insists he stay until another Potions Professor is available." Snape was one person I fully expected to die in the war. It wasn't too bad to be proved wrong.
I sat back in the seat. I still don't know why I ended up in America.
The couple are now giving each other the silent treatment and waiting the trip out. I heft myself around.
There's a spare seat between them. I figure, why not?
As I'm doing up the seat belt happily both of them are staring at me. This is much better than sitting next to Malfoy, who discreetly gives me disdainful looks. It can't be because I'm ungroomed, Nurse Betty was rather expert at shaving, my hair is so short is has no room to be messy like it once was, the only downside of this is that my scar is painstakingly obvious. Why Nurse Betty could cut my hair when I was even more miserable there than I was at the Dursleys. Maybe because she was a pretty girl who looked to be only 20.
"Is it true, then?" I ask, genuinely curious, probably due to my pitifully isolated life for the past three years.
"Is what true?" The lady, Carrie from what I'd heard, replied stiffly.
"No sex for the past year?" I don't know how these two could sleep in the same bed for a year and not have sex, it must be a pretty big dispute, considering the woman is almost as pretty as Nurse Betty is, in her mid-thirties and the husband isn't bad looking either.
"I don't see how it's your business." The man snaps, looking uncomfortable. I'm not surprised, I have invaded their personal space.
I laugh easily. "I think that your business has turned into everyone's business on this plane by now."
Now they both fidget guiltily.
"Look, you're going on holiday, you should have a good time, why don't you sort this out now?"
There's a long, drawn-out silence in which they alternate their gazes from me to each other. This may be a deprived man's entertainment but I find it amusing anyway.
"She's cheating on me!" Edward finally bursts out, his face red with embarrassment (probably from me butting into their dispute) and anger (from his suspicions).
"What?! You're cheating on me, you bastard!" Carrie glares at him.
I see. What jealousy does to a relationship.
"I think it's safe to say neither of you are straying." I say after they've had their little staring contest.
"What do you know?"
"What don't we all know? You're practically putting your broken marriage on an in-flight entertainment documentary." I don't point out that it was actually a whole lot better than the shit that's playing at the moment.
They fidget guiltily once more, the tired circles under their eyes more prominently displayed now their dagger glares have disappeared.
I want to fix their marriage. I'm a sad, lonely man who has been stuffed into a mental hospital in a foreign country by people he trusted and wants to repair a marriage he has nothing to do with. If that man were not me I would laugh. I laugh loudly anyway, drawing confused glances from the couple and anyone who overheard the conversation.
Edward and Carrie ignore me for as long as possible before Ed cracks.
"What's so funny?" He asks, sounding like a petulant child.
I don't answer, just keep the smile on my face. It reminds me I'm real.
"You two. You could be happy yet you both throw it away for this argument. Do you enjoy it?"
I admit it's my turn to feel guilty when Carrie bursts into tears. She burrows her head into my shoulder and I'm not sure what I should be doing.
"I love him, but he doesn't love me!" She wails. Ed tries to look unconcerned. He fails.
"I'm sure he loves you." I give Ed a pointed look.
He hesitates but says it anyway. "I do love you."
"You love her more!"
"There is no her, Carrie, I'm not cheating on you!"
It's sweet really, her crying into the stranger's shoulder, her husband denying the adultery accusations, all the while being increasingly sickening.
"Really?" She whispers.
"Really." He kisses her.
All this right in front of my face. Her elbow is pressing sharply into my shoulder. Malfoy's shirt is damp now, sticking to my side. I feel out of place. And there's a painful pang in my chest as I try not to watch them.
"Merlin, you guys are slow." I sigh, the use of 'Merlin' earning a confused glance from the couple.
They spend the rest of the flight snogging shamelessly. I'm not sure which was worse, their arguing or their making up.
They both thank me on the way out, giving me their number and saying they owed me one. No doubt it will be a very happy vacation for them.
Malfoy looks slightly less grateful.
"What was that show about?!" He spits out. "They were muggles!"
I feel my temper rising. "I can do what I like, Malfoy, you can't stop me!"
"Dumbledore was right, you are fucking crazy!"
"Whatever, Malfoy."
But as we walk out of long sterile looking hallway, Malfoy begins to look nervous. The more nervous he gets, the more nervous I get. What is he worried about? I reluctantly follow beside him.
"Potter, you aren't a bad human being."
"Thank you," I remark dryly. Let it be known, Malfoy isn't one for tact.
"It was good thinking to shut the muggles up."
What's he getting at?
"You know, maybe you should have stayed in America. No one would recognize the 'famous Boy-Who-Lived' there. You could have lived anonymously."
This isn't like Malfoy at all, what's going on.
"I'm beginning to wonder if I'm doing the right thing after all," He continues.
Something is terribly wrong.
"Mr. Potter!" Dumbledore. No.
I turn to Malfoy.
Somehow I manage to read an apology in his blank expression. The prick.
I run.