Chérie, parchments and quills.
Chapter three - Inordinate amounts of chocolate
Harry returned to Hogwarts a week later. School would start in two weeks and the teachers needed to make lesson plans and retrieve their timetables.
Harry was currently in a staff meeting - one that was just about to end, but he couldn't keep his eyes from wondering over to certain blond man he hadn't seen in about twelve years; one rather good-looking Draco Malfoy. Yes, Harry could admit when a man was gorgeous, even if their personality was ugly ... but the change in Malfoy was shocking.
Malfoy was still pale, but his complexion now leaned more towards healthy smooth and fair - instead of necromancy white and straight out of a horror film. Draco also had stubble, and his hair was still platinum blond - but it was clean and almost shoulder length. It looked good on him. Perhaps the most shocking change was that Malfoy smiled at Headmistress McGonagall a few times, wasn't snarky or rude when joining in with the staff discussions, and seemed very attentive to the meeting. Harry couldn't help but wonder – 'Was this all some façade to get the potions position?'
"With the student numbers finally increasing, I'm am looking forward to great year." Headmistress McGonagall informed them all with a warm, excited smile. Harry tore is eyes away to look at the headmistress instead.
It was true, Hogwarts had reached the lowest population of children until now. Too many families had lost loved ones, children, and friends. People didn't want to get pregnant while Voldemort was still a threat, and a lot of people had even fled the country.
After Voldemort had been defeated in May 1998, people rushed to get married. In 1999, poor St Mungo's had been almost ambushed with woman going into in labour - the biggest baby boom happened in March through to June, before starting to calm down. Seeing as all the children born in 1999 were now eleven, Hogwarts was about to have an increase in student numbers. McGonagall had already, happily informed them that they had sixty-three first years starting in September - as opposed to the twenty-nine they had last year. It was such a warming feeling for all the teachers, to know that children were once again flourishing in the magical world.
They were dismissed, and Harry found himself walking down the corridor. He was lost in his own mind however - a moment of sadness, and a feeling of being incomplete washed over him. He was previously filled with joy - knowing that Hogwarts would soon be gaining so many, innocent, smiling faces ... but he wished for his own, imagining a life with two kids and someone to love.
Not really focusing on his steps, he crashed straight into someone.
"Watch where you're going, Potter!" Malfoy drawled, his voice was still as clear, as sharp, and as snippy as Harry remembered it, but the tone was lower - deeper, and there was a smooth wrapping to it. In a way, it reminded him of Professor Severus Snape – a great man that had died in the war playing spy for the side against Voldemort, but not a very likeable potions professor.
"Sorry, Malfoy." Harry apologised sincerely, but it came out mumbled as he continued on his way - his mind now thinking of Severus. He wondered if things would have been different if the man had survived the war twelve years ago. How much of Severus's cold demeanour and unfriendliness had been his façade as a spy?
"I suggest you get your eyes re-checked Potter. Your ridiculous spectacles don't seem to be working for you." Malfoy yelled after him. Harry paused in his steps, turning to face the blond bully from his past.
"Grow up Malfoy! It was a damn accident. Not that I'd expect you of all people- You know what, never mind."
"No! Go on Potter, expect me to what?" Malfoy snapped, his demeaner suddenly defensive.
Harry's eyes met steel grey one and sneered. Trust Malfoy to be a class A prat about a simple accident. "Expect you to understand that accidents happen Malfoy. To accept my apology and let it go without being a prat about it!"
Malfoy had a strange look in his eyes then, and if Harry didn't know any better, he'd swear there was actual remorse there. Seeing as Malfoy didn't say anything more, Harry turned and left in a huff. He didn't need to start fights or confrontations with his old school rival, the fact was, they weren't students anymore. It didn't stop the blond prat making him feel like a bloody student again though.
Entering his private rooms near the defence against the dark arts classroom, Harry threw his satchel down on the bed.
"Kreacher?" Harry called to seemingly no one, but his house elf appeared with a bow.
"Master Harry Potter sir called for Kreacher." He stated, awaiting orders.
Harry plopped down to sit on his bed and faced him. The house elf had a bulbous, snout-like nose, squinted bloodshot eyes, a wrinkly face, and white hair growing out of his bat-like ears. His frayed grey vest - made from an old pillow case, was tied tightly around his tiny waist.
"I would like a coffee please Kreacher, and maybe a sandwich. You know what, anything to eat would be great! If that's okay please." Harry asked, sighing. Kreacher nodded once more, and left the room with a slight pop.
Maybe he was overreacting because he was tired and hadn't eaten since breakfast, but Malfoy was a prat! A bothersome blond bastard who was taking over for Professor Stoltion. Amelia Stoltion had decided that she wanted to stay home after the birth of her first child, born just as the summer holidays had started – in June. She had only been a teacher at the school for two years, and now he had to work with Malfoy - who obviously hadn't changed at all despite his change of appearance.
Kreacher returned shortly after leaving, and Harry practically inhaled the first half of his ham, tomato and lettuce sandwich. Hunger wasn't something that usually bothered him all that much, but he could imagine the bread was a certain blond Slytherin's head at least - and he'd only had a piece of toast that morning after forgoing dinner last night.
Harry exited the bathroom - in his black cotton, long sleeved pyjamas after his shower, and climbed into bed. He opened the draw of his bedside table and pulled out the charmed parchment and quill, smiling when another message had appeared.
He had been talking to Tau every day for the last seven days, and they had fallen into a habit of communicating at night, in the morning, and a few times during the day. Tau could make him laugh, and the mystery man seemed to have relaxed slightly - communicating more freely, and seemed less insecure. Harry had a grin on his face as he got comfortable and he read his new message - his bottom lip between his teeth.
Message from Tau:
Yes, I like chocolate. Rather inordinately if I'm honest, it is a weakness of mine. You must never repeat that unless you wish to be cursed into oblivion.
I had a rather unfortunate incident when I was fourteen, involving a lot of the sweet, rich, chocolatey goodness ... and a night spent with an angry stomach. I cried Padfoot! Cried! My eyes, my stomach, they totally betrayed me. Can you believe that? Suffice to say, no one brought me chocolate again after that, they said I couldn't be trusted – the nerve of them.
I always have one bar of chocolate nearby however, and it is a personal challenge of mine to see how long it lasts before I devour it. The chocolate fears me the most when I am particularly upset or angry. It was shivering today; I was close to eating it.
Tell me, mon chéri particulier, what is your weakness?
Message end-
Harry chuckled. If he ever met this man, he was taking him to a chocolate factory. There was a magical one at Dartmoor national park that he had heard about, hidden from muggles.
Harry cleared Tau's message with the Othala rune and his quill feather. He felt a bit alexithymic in that he knew he was feeling a range of positive, almost excited emotions, but couldn't identify them singularly. He rubbed the feather against his chin, thinking of how to reply before staring to write.
Message to Tau:
I am wondering if it would be a good idea to take you to a magical chocolate factory one day. I have heard of one that is meant to be amazing, but I wouldn't want to make you sick. We most certainly, cannot have your eyes or stomach betraying you again, now can we? That would most traumatizing for you I imagine.
I am curious, what is your record for not eating chocolate?
What on earth happened to threaten the existence of your chocolate bar this time?
Now I'm suddenly craving chocolate, which is strange, I usually go for puddings. I think that would be my weakness actually, puddings.
I found myself feeling like something was missing in my life today. I know I am jealous of my friends and the family they have made respectively, but I don't constantly feel that void. No, something happened today to remind me of my solitude. Does that make me ridiculous Tau?
And I do not speak French, but I have this strange feeling that you just called me a peculiar sweetheart.
Message end-
Harry sent his message. Butterflies danced in his stomach as he grew impatient for the reply. It wasn't long ago that he complained about using a dating service, feared it viewed him as desperate, but now look at him ... he was acting ridiculously. Tau might not even reply tonight, he could have fallen asleep or he might be busy.
Harry still couldn't tear his eyes away from the parchment, his hands fidgeting in in anticipation. Then tau's words appeared and he smiled. Merlin, he was acting inane.
Message from Tau:
A chocolate factory?
I fail to see the appeal in simply observing how chocolate is made. I'd vastly prefer to eat it, Padfoot, and therein lies the issue.
My record for not eating chocolate is eight days, currently going strong at four. I feel you are trying to get me to fail in my resolve. You're also assuming we would one day agree to meet - you are a very peculiar man. Your weakness in puddings just further proves this.
I would not enjoy discussing the reason for my, almost, devoured chocolate bar. Let's just say - some people are still expectant of me to behaviour in a certain way. It seems no matter what I say or do, I will never be redeemable. I can admit however, that I do tend to put my foot in my mouth – old habits die hard I'm afraid.
Ah, Mon , I also feel a lack of satisfaction with my life. It is not something to tend to dwell upon or ruminate over all that much, but I personally feel a barrier in reaching what it is I truly desire.
I read these words once: "A flying broom is safe in the cupboard, but that's not what brooms was made for." You see, a flying broom can be displayed or used to sweep dirt of the floor, but their true purpose is to fly! The other notion that passed me back then, was that brooms were judged. An old broom isn't loved nor wanted, and only the ones that shine are sort after and noticed. The same applies to a broom that works but is worn down and splintered. I feel much like an old broom trapped in a cupboard. So, no mon , you are not ridiculous ... the world is simply flawed as are the many people in it.
Le'Amortentia, is that one that called you my secret sweetheart, I simply called you peculiar.
Mon chéri particulier.
Message end-
Harry read the message a few times, not bothering to restrain the ridiculous grin that lit up his face. Tau was so charming on paper and he really hoped the same held true in real life. He couldn't imagine what Tau could have done to warrant a lack of forgiveness, and it seemed that it was more then just a few people that wouldn't give him a chance.
Harry called for Kreacher, asking him politely for a glass of water. Kreacher complied to his masters wishes quickly, and Harry downed half the glass in one before placing what remained on his bed side table.
He scanned over Tau's words one last time before he cleared them with the Othala rune, and then started writing his reply.
Message to Tau:
Firstly, this particular chocolate factory is part interactive. One of my friends shared their trip with me and explained that, not only do you get to watch how it is made, you also get to make your own chocolates to take home. You get to sample quite a lot too apparently, and you even have the option to swim in it - although they don't recommend you eat that. I was also told that they take you through the green houses filled with a different variety of cacao trees, and where they grow other plants and herbs that they sometimes add to certain varieties of chocolate. Then there is the Charms and transfiguration rooms, as well as the potion house, where they make all the potions for magical chocolate or add spells to things like chocolate frogs. However, if you don't feel that your personal restraint is strong enough to withstand being surround by the 'chocolaty goodness', I would totally understand.
And yes Tau, maybe one day we could meet. Isn't that the end game of our parchment conversations? Unless I am too peculiar for your tastes of course.
And lastly, that broom reference is intriguing. I myself, feel like a worn-out broom being tossed about and fought over. I'd rather stay in the cupboard if that were true and I was a broom. I like to be isolated outside of work, away from the world and left to live out my personal life peacefully.
Padfoot, x
Message end-
Once Harry had drawn the rune to send his message, he froze ... realising that he'd added a kiss to the end. Oh Merlin!
'Oh well.' He thought - blowing out air, the damage was done now, but he still needed to gulp down the last of his water to tend to the sudden dryness of his mouth. It was just a one kiss on parchment, it wasn't like he'd actually kissed the man. It didn't mean anything ... right?
As he was pondering how Tau would take his little 'X', he saw a new message come through on his parchment.
Message from Tau:
You evil peculiar man!
How dare you torment me like this. I simply must visit this chocolate factory at once! Yet I cannot - life is simply unfair. You should be ashamed of yourself; it is your fault that I no long have a chocolate bar now. I knew you wanted to ruin my no chocolate streak, and I hold you personally accountable.
You have just lessened your chances of me ever wanting to meet you.
I trusted you Padfoot! You will simply have to make it to me if you wish to return to my good books!
Also, are you trying to tell me that you have people fawning over you like you're a walking sex symbol, and if so, why are you using a dating service?
You really are a very peculiar little petit homme particulier et maléfique!
Isolation does have its degree of comforts, I'll agree, but as one who has had solitude forced upon them ... it isn't quite as it is illustrated to be.
Unfortunately, I must be up early tomorrow and so I shall leave you for tonight.
Until tomorrow,
Tau.
P.S - You will get no 'x' from me, you killed my chocolate!
Message end-
Harry laughed as he finished reading, a huge smile on his face and a warm ball growing in his gut. He was used to Tau's back handed comments, and he could read his words for what they were. Tau wanted to visit the chocolate factory with him one day, and he liked him enough to accept his 'x'. Despite telling him wouldn't get an 'x', he actually did get one.
He put his parchment and quill in the draw of his bedside table, then snuggled under the covers to sleep. He still had a huge grin on his face, felling much better after his run in with Malfoy earlier. He kept trying to picture what Tau looked like: Blond hair - maybe a sunshine golden blond, or a honey blond. Grey eyes - dark grey like a storm, grey that was almost blue, or a light grey? He was taller than Harry, 5ft 9in if he remembered his profile correctly. Maybe he was lean and tall, with a handsome face and a kind smile.
Harry then remembered he was a pure-blood. 'There can't be that many pure-bloods out there.' He thought. Maybe he could do some research and- No! That was against the rules of Le'Amortentia. He'd signed to promise that he would not actively try and find information on his Chérie that could lead to the discovery of his identity or address. It still itched inside him to break the rules, but that would also be a betrayal of trust. Not to mention that, now he'd signed to say he would do no such thing, he'd be fined and charged with stalking and misuse of date.
Wouldn't that be funny; Harry potter, the golden boy that everyone wants a piece of, arrested for breaking a dating service agreement.
Chuckling lightly to himself, he went back to imagining what his Chérie might look like. Lost in thick honey-blond hair, passionate grey eyes, and tall, impossibly gorgeous men, he fell to sleep.