DisclaimerStill not mine. Still sad and pathetic.
YES, I am back. And, holy shit guys, it's been a while.
Major Harry rebellion in this chapter folks. And more random angst. YAY!
Huh. It seems, I've been trying to change the careless feel of the story for some time now, interspersing randomnity with pointless angst and pondering from Harry. At the moment, that is what I'm mainly focusing on. So maybe the changes I make in the previous chapters will only be minor. Who knows? As I reread my story, I tell myself, God you made Harry stupid!
And, when trying to think of how to conclude this story, I kept confusing myself.
-0-0-Chapter 15: Compulsions? And... Draco's fetish for...-0-0-
Great, just great, Harry thought. It was the first time he'd actually let himself think of the situation he and his fellow future-goers were in at the moment. Before this, he had been in a cautious state of bliss, unwilling to think of anything else except the chance to be near his parents. Dear Hades, Dumbles, you sure have messed everything up. How arrogant do you have to be to believe that your own spells are single-handedly powerful enough to change the memories of thousands of people? Or the people who have heard about us from other sources? Fuck. You have screwed it all up. All of it.
Then there was a sudden flare of anger inside himself for being so superfluous in his actions of late and being so… unguarded. So damned open, accepting, giving. What the fuck happened to hard-ass vampire Harry who would murder before he let anyone find out his secrets?
He curled up his left fist and slowly let his anger flow out of his body as magical power into the fire in the grate. Maybe it would make him feel better to magically exhaust himself? Nah. He seriously doubted it.
Currently, it was the night before Christmas Eve and the excitement of the following few days had built up inside of him so he couldn't sleep. So in alternative, he laid on his back in his bed, with Sirius curled up at his side of the heavily Christmas-decorated room set up by Ricki and the ever-overenthusiastic house elves.
As soon as he'd arrived at Potter Manner the past few months ran through his head like a data analysis program on a computer. There was definitely something odd going on with his own thoughts, dreams, and compulsions. Maybe I should look up ways to fix this myself. I'll confer with Salazar and the Founders, Artemis, Aryn… fuck, might as well invite old Voldy as well for all who I've involved in this hellish scheme! What the fuck was I thinking? Well… back to the plan. I'll have to find a compulsions spell to repress the memory or thought of us and set it up as soon as I can find a conference chamber appropriate for the occasion. Then I'll have to act more proper for the next… 9 months, keep more to myself, and definitely keep my watch up more often and securely than before.
To start off his new habit, he prepared to cast a shield for physical, mental, and magical attacks around his room and add wards around the perimeter of the property to warn for intruders. Closing his eyes slowly, he delved into his mind to meditate. Once he found his magical core, he searched his mind for the mental barriers he had arranged around his thoughts and secrets. The first thing he did was fortify these barriers, make them stronger, and also line the inside with traps in the case intruders found their way in.
Then, he guided his mental eye out of his room and even the manor, to search for the wards of Potter Manor. He figured that the current-day Potters would undoubtedly be alerted if the wards were altered, so he metaphorically tip-toed outside of them, shivering at the lost of blanketing safety. The general idea was to set up another group of wards outside of the base-wards linked back to Harry. If he could find time tomorrow, then chances were good that he would add his signature to the house's memory of Potters so that he would be notified if there was anything going on.
Once he had finished building the basic, hazy gray security wards around the perimeter (and the space 200 meters above the Manor itself) he let his magic flow through his mental channel to finish it up and clean up any loose ends.
His body, unconsciously tense, went limp as his mind was suddenly in his body once again. With a tired sigh, he slumped down and prepared to build the same wards around his and Sirius's room.
After the construction of these wards, he finally allowed himself to relax and sleep.
Across the country, in a slightly-more dilapidated manor, Voldemort felt the stirrings of magic being used and pulling at his own magic.
This made him bolt out of the semi-relaxed state he had been in and frown.
The single time he had noticed anyone with a connection to him in magic was at the Battle of Hogwarts and the boy who had strutted stupidly and arrogantly through the battle as if he owned the place.
That Haden boy was so foolishly naïve, to think that the bond of blood would save him from targeting. But he would humor the boy for a while anyway, and then strike when he was most vulnerable.
A sharp impact on Harry's mental state woke him immediately. That, and the unmerciful tickling of Sirius aimed at his ribs.
Harry smiled and allowed himself to shriek with laughter, wrestling with Sirius (using a smaller portion of his strength, understandably) happily and smiling fondly as Sirius transformed into Padfoot. Padfoot then proceeded to lick his face, causing Harry to laugh harder.
Then a sharp knocking, knock-knock-knocking, came upon the chamber door. It was James… searching for the lost… not Lenore, but Sirius and Harry. (1) Harry smiled more, happy for himself for once, because he had a family.
Ron and Hermione may have been his family, but now he had blood relatives who cared. It was all quite odd really. Ron and Hermione would always be the first thing he remembered when questioned of family, but this was an experience he would never forget, even if he botched the whole mess up.
He pushed these thoughts out of his head, determined to make these holidays cheerful. The memory of Sirius trying to cheer everyone up during his fifth year brought a mental frown, again reminding him that he would have to do something about the brash decisions he had made. How the hell did I manage to get myself into this mess?
Once again shaking off bitter thoughts, he gently pushed Sirius off of him (he was currently sitting on Harry's stomach) and proceeded to sleepily pad to the door. Standing a little to the side of the doors, he opened them, guessing right as the group sprang in energetically singing Christmas carols.
"Honestly guys, don't you remember that you don't sing Christmas carols all the time?" Lily chided, obviously regretting teaching them in the first place.
From behind Harry, Sirius spoke up, pouting, "But… what's the fun in that?" Lily just rolled her eyes, hugged Harry and told him good morning, and walked back down to the kitchen.
James frowned. "Why do you get a hug and I don't?"
"Uh… I don't know," Harry replied guiltily. He really didn't want to bring his parents apart, especially since they only had a few years to hook up and produce baby-Harry.
Remus and Draco began singing "Deck the Halls" regardless of Lily's opinion about caroling. It broke Harry out of his thoughts, and he grinned widely and chuckled before creating a mini-Congo-Line with everyone, parading down the hall in their pajamas and singing out of key.
The portraits of deceased Potters either glared at being woken up or joined in, creating an echo-effect. Even the tiny sprites flittering in the air as decoration were singing along. Harry and Draco swore that they heard high-pitched, squeaky voices bursting into song around the kitchens, sounding suspiciously like house-elves.
As they passed through the doors to the kitchens, Harry collapsed against the door in laughter.
From across the room, Ricki and Jesse looked up from their coffee and newspaper and exchanged disbelieving glances, mentally thinking, 'Oh my god… it's nine o'clock in the morning and they're already bouncing off the walls.' Wordlessly, they shook their heads.
"Damn, Harry. You sure do have this affect on people, like contagious cheer!" Remus commented while Draco sighed. Why couldn't anybody say stuff about him like that? Was he really that much of a fuck-up? His father had told him so repeatedly when he refused to take the Dark Mark.
As if he picked up on Draco's discomfort and angst-session, Harry straightened up and walked to the enlarged table in the center of the room, grabbing Draco's hand and pulling him along. "I wonder if they have labels in this era…" Harry pondered to Draco. "Not loser-popular labels, but goth-prep labels."
Draco thought for a moment, frowning. "I feel sorry for them if they don't have emo culture." He was an unwilling participant when Harry decided to be a different label every month during the 6th year. There were times he was hardcore-goth, preppy, normal, slightly punk, hardcore punk, emo, and there had even been a phase when he dressed in all leather. Out of all of them, emo had been his favorite, though the leather had been a close second… it was very kinky. Sue me for liking the tight clothes, he mused to himself.
"Oh my god, me too! Emo boys are so hot." (2)
"Emo boys?" Sirius asked out loud, just a little jealous that Harry was talking about someone else in his presence.
Draco took the honor of fielding this one. "Yeah. Very hot. Tight clothes, very tight pants in particular, interesting hair-cuts, and lip-rings. Dear god, the lip-rings top it all off," he carried on, a wistful look on his face. "And they've got artistic souls, or so Harry here tells me, and…" he let himself trail off to wipe imaginary-drool from his chin.
"Wow Draco. You really get into that, don't you? Just, uh, keep your fantasies to yourself next time."
He blushed but managed to snap back, "Fuck off, Potter."
"Why would I need to fuck off when I've got him," Harry replied with a smirk, looking over at Sirius and licking his cheek possessively.
"Hey, keep your own advice about fantasies in mind. I'm sure the straight folks here would enjoy eating their food."
Lily, James, Severus, Narcissa, and the elder Potters made small sounds of agreement. Harry and Draco just chuckled; they'd missed their banter way too much, what with draco spending time drooling over Remus and Harry spending time drooling over Sirius. Jeez, who needs porn magazines anymore? Not them, that's for sure.
Breakfast sped fast with easy laughter and talking, allusions to Christmas gifts being thrown teasingly, causing small, playful skirmishes to break out every so often.
Christmas season was in the air indeed. And Harry had insight on plans Seduce the Wolf/Angel.
Plan A involved holiday mistletoe. (But really, that was a tad too traditional.)
Plan B included New Year's Eve and the countdown-kiss tradition. (Once again, tradition.)
Plan C depended upon… handcuffing them together for a day. (Not failproof, however.)
Plan D… well, Plan D was to hope that a strange coincidence happened.
In Harry Potter's world, strange coincidences involved lots of careful planning. Thus, he and Sirius spent the day cornered up in the library.
Around midday, he, predictably, got bored and thought back to the conversation back at breakfast.
"Draco has a fetish for emo boys."
1 – All credit goes to Edgar Allen Poe, and his morbidly enticing poem, The Raven. I'm sure you all know of it, right?
2 – Alright, I couldn't help it! But they are. They're like… drool-worthy. And I haven't had any outside influences during the past few days… I had no one to talk to about it!
Now, does anyone have a clue what I'm planning to do? I have wicked plans for Remus, oh yes I do. But I'm not sure whether to put them into immediate play or leave them for "One week later."
Anyway, are you glad to see I'm back? I sure as hell am! The reviews might have inspired me… even though the chapter was almost unbearably short. sulk
Keep inspiring me guys, maybe I'll continue to update this more regularly.
Fear of Apathy