Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Another Life ❯ Pease Porridge Hot ( Chapter 21 )

Warnings: Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.


Disclaimer: Ain't mine.

Thanks to Ebony Rayne for beta-ing!

Chapter 21


Pease Porridge Hot

Molly Weasley had not sent a howler, but it might as well have been for the impact upon the children. Remus glanced over the edge of his book at them from where he sat in an overstuffed chair of the library. They were crowded at a small, round reading table, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny in chairs around, Harry in a stool he'd drug up between Ron and Hermione to look over their shoulders, and Draco standing over Ginny. Their expressions were mostly serious, (or a light form of sneer when Draco was concerned), and they talked in quiet, hushed tones to one another. Remus would have thought they were up to something, but the fact that they never gave him any furtive looks made him decide they were just having trouble deciding what they could and couldn't tell the Weasley matron.

Harry's left cheek was faintly purple along the cheekbone with yellow, green, and blue intermixed. Ginny had hit him hard enough to knock the boy to the floor when he finally released them the day before. He'd declined any sort of healing for it, figuring it could heal just fine on its own. Thankfully, Hermione and Ron hadn't added their own marks. Remus was rather sure that, like with Ginny, Harry wouldn't even attempt to cushion the blow for himself. He hadn't said anything on the matter, though Ginny now glanced at the bruising with a little regret. Remus doubted she would apologize and really, there wasn't a reason to. The children continued their quiet wonderings with Hermione writing this or that as the apparent designated transcriber.

There was a faint whistle at the door. Harry glanced up and gave a little wave before turning back to the other teens. Remus got up from his chair and found Sirius at the door, motioning him to come out. Wondering what his friend was up to, Remus headed out to the hall, closing the door behind himself.

“Malfoy's gone,” Sirius began. “She slipped out last night. I think Voldie might be up to something.”

“If he is, what can we do about it?” Remus replied, already thinking of what might have to be done to save the children.

“He's not being careful of us. He's ignoring us completely. Underestimating.” Remus was idly surprised at Sirius's accurate observations. The man was thinking for once. “We can get to him now, while he's still preoccupied. Search his rooms, the studies, anywhere he goes.”

“And if he discovers us?”

“We got lost.” Sirius grinned widely. “He thinks we're stupid and harmless, Remus. We haven't been here long enough to know the place by heart.”

Remus nodded a little, folding his arms over his chest. “Well…. We can try at least. Just be careful, okay?”

“Of course.” Sirius smacked his hand against Remus's shoulder heartily before heading off on his way again. Remus watched him go and sighed a bit but started planning his own excursions. Sirius was right. Voldemort really was ignoring them and this was the only way they might come out on top.

Back in the library, Harry looked back from the closed door at his friends.

“Tell her to come,” he said to Ron immediately. “He and your father. Your brothers if they can manage it.”

Ron blinked a bit. “What? My family come here? Harry, he's here! I don't care if he's been civil, I'm not bringing them into his hands!”

Harry sighed and shook his head. “I know it worries you but we need them. We need their support for what I have planned. I'll find a way to keep them safe- Ron, stop shaking your head at me!”

“You're a loony,” Ron said, sitting back in his chair as he glared. “I don't care if it's you asking, I won't put my family in danger!”

“They're all adults!” Harry snarled back as he slammed his hands on the table and glared right back. “Tell them it's dangerous but give them the choice to come or not! If you aren't going to help me, go home!”

Ron's face went white and then red as he got up from his chair.

“Maybe I should,” he said tightly.

“Ron,” Hermione started, trying to smooth things over. Harry was too angry to think about what he was saying or doing.

“Then go already and stop wasting my time!”

Ron looked like he was going to say something, then shut his mouth with an audible click. His jaw was tight, face blazed red with rage, and his hands were fisted at his sides and shaking. Hurt flashed through the rage once or twice and then he turned and stormed out of the library. Hermione got up, giving Harry a worried look before she went after him. Harry sat down on his stool as Ginny slowly rose from the table and looked at him.

“You are a royal prat,” she said and for a moment, Draco thought she might hit him (again) but she just stalked after the others and left the two boys alone. Draco sighed a bit and glanced at Harry before his stomach went into knots.

Harry panted softly as rage ran rampant through his body. His hands were shaking though he kept from clenching them. His chest felt tight, eyes burned, and he felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

“Why doesn't he trust me?” he finally exploded, jerking his angry gaze up to his last companion. “He knows I wouldn't do anything to put his family in real danger if I didn't have to! He knows that!”

“Maybe,” Draco conceded quietly. “Not that I care what comes out of Weasley's mouth, but you'd have done better if you'd only told him what you had planned.”

Because Harry hadn't actually said yet. He'd come to them today with a heavy expression and they started making plans for something he wouldn't tell them about. Draco had seen how frustrated the others were getting when he asked questions they couldn't make sense of and wouldn't explain.

Harry just stared at him. Draco sighed a little.

“If you want Weasley to trust you, you're going to have to trust him first,” Draco said sternly. Harry continued to stare. Then he looked down at his hands and willed them to stop shaking. Draco waited, sitting down in the closest chair.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered after a while.

“Indeed,” was Draco's reply. Harry kept staring at his hands.

“I am a prat. No wonder he…” Harry sighed softly. “I have to fix this.”

“I guess,” Draco murmured with a shrug. “First, I'd tell him what this whole thing was about in the first place. The others, too. And me, of course. Actually, tell me first.”

Harry pursed his lips. “I don't have everything figured out yet-”

“All the more reason to get help in the figuring.”

Harry hated it when Draco was right.

“Damn it, Harry,” Draco said suddenly, scowling at him. “It's okay to ask for help. It's okay to trust people. Hell, it's okay to be human for Merlin's sake. You're not a god. You're not an angel. You're a sixteen-year-old kid and it's time you realized that.”

He met Harry's shocked expression with a tired sort of annoyance.

“Don't tell me it really did go to your head…”

“No,” Harry said quickly.

Draco nodded a little and flicked a bit of blonde hair behind one ear. “Good. Now go after the Weasel and make up before I decide to start berating your woefully lacking intelligence.”

Harry started to say something, then thought better of it and just sighed. He got up and went after his friends and for some reason, that made Draco's chest go tight. He stayed in the library, alone. The quiet seemed to have a sound of its own that pounded through his head.

This was his place. He wasn't angry about it, really. It had always been his place. Sometimes he had Crabbe or Goyle to at least fill the silence with inane babble, or Pansy to give him moon eyes, but really, he was far more used to this. He had no illusions about Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy. The moment it was advantageous they'd drop him. He'd known that the entire time.

Sometimes, he looked at Harry and those idiots he ran around with…and felt rather empty.

Draco shook his head. It was stupid to get worked up over something like that. He was a Slytherin. He didn't need dopey friends. He didn't even want them. That was for Gryffindors. All Draco needed was his resolve and a few pawns to use.

Leave the touchy-feely-lovey crap to someone else.

----

Dumbledore took a long look into the mirror. He saw shining eyes looking back, saw curly blonde hair around a charming face, saw fine-fingered hands rest upon his own shoulders. He felt that, even though he knew it wasn't real. It would never be real. He would never look at Dumbledore that way.

Still, Dumbledore watched and felt and wanted. Most of anything, he wanted. His hands touched cool glass when he reached to caress those curls but he liked to imagine his touch was felt. That young face filled with a longing Dumbledore had never really seen there.

As the days, weeks, months, years, decades went by… Dumbledore started to believe a little more that there had been something there. There must have been. Had to.

His nails creaked against the smooth surface. He almost glared at the loving face looking back at him. There had been something. It was too fragile to last. They hadn't had the time. That was why…that was why…why…

He let out a shuddering breath. It was getting harder and harder as time went on to keep from storming the prison, finding him, freeing him from captors that didn't understand his brilliance, his worth…

He wasn't strong enough yet, but he would be. A smile crossed his lips. Yes, he would be soon and then nothing would ever stop them. Dumbledore had been betrayed by his own convictions once. He wouldn't let it happen again.

“Just wait for me, old friend,” he whispered and the glass fogged under his lips as those eyes softened and he felt a phantom touch upon his cheek. “Just wait. Our time will come soon. So soon…”

A knock at the door. Dumbledore wrenched himself away from the mirror and covered it over. He took a moment to calm his heart. The idiot thing liked to jump at his age. A flick of his wand was all it took to let his visitor in.

Minerva gave him a concerned glance. She did that more and more often now and he wondered if his age was showing more thoroughly. Minerva wasn't young herself, but that was beside the point.

“I thought we could go over a few things before the students arrive this week,” she said, one hand twitching a bit to make the parchment she held suddenly obvious. A little thing, she didn't even know she'd done it. Dumbledore knew the habit well but he'd been watching her for a very long time. She hesitated. “I can come back later if you'd like. Perhaps with supper.”

“No, now is quite fine,” Dumbledore murmured, giving her a smile. “Make yourself at home.”

It seemed that Minerva always reminded him of his duties outside his ambitions and that was, perhaps, the way it should be.

----

Harry didn't waste time with pleasantries. Voldemort wondered if he ever would and felt an odd little stab of hurt because he doubted it would ever happen. There was still too much anger in the boy, anger that seemed to have become more alive for him in the last day or so and completely overtaking the depression that had filled him. Voldemort wasn't sure which better but figured neither was healthy. Still, the boy wouldn't listen to him and Narcissa wasn't here to give her quiet advice. Neither would Lupin or Black be of assistance. As for Snape, Voldemort felt a little odd about talking to him of Harry. He didn't know what it meant or why he felt so, but he kept begging off asking Narcissa. The vulnerability of needing to was understandable enough.

“I will not use your Death Eaters,” Harry started once he and Voldemort had gotten themselves settled. The Dark Lord lifted a brow but simply nodded and Harry went on. “Instead, I will gather my own group. We will work independently from you, will not assist you in anything I don't deem necessary, and will be answerable to myself alone.”

Voldemort narrowed his eyes as he thought about that. “I have nothing against those considerations…as long as you don't prevent me from my own workings.”

“I may,” Harry said stubbornly, “if you are doing things I don't approve of.”

“You'll find I do the same, then,” Voldemort replied. Harry scowled at him.

“If we have problems with one another, we should come to one another first,” the boy said after thinking a few moments. “Don't punish my comrades and I won't kill yours.”

Voldemort conceded to that and they went to the next topic.

“I want Severus Snape.” Harry's eyes were diamond hard. He would not be persuaded from that point. Voldemort folded his arms over his chest, frowning.

“I refuse,” he said coolly. Son or not, Voldemort was not about to weaken his forces in such a way. Snape was not only a master of potions but also one of subterfuge and one of the most intelligent men the Dark Lord had ever known. Losing such a valuable member of his ranks…

“He wants to help me. I asked him,” Harry said stubbornly, eyes narrow. “Whether he's your man or not, he'll have his energies divided. I will use the help he's volunteered whether you like it or not.”

Idly, Voldemort decided this was the teenage rebellion stage he'd heard some of his underlings complain about.

“I reserve the right to pull him away from whatever you've got him doing,” he grumbled. A spark of triumph went through Harry's gaze as he nodded and thankfully didn't smile.

They spent a while debating over Narcissa Malfoy, who Voldemort didn't really have any claim over but was loathe to give over to Harry explicitly. Of course, the boy hadn't spoken to her yet as she'd left the manor, but she was too important for Voldemort to spare. They decided finally that Harry could ask what he wanted of her but it would be up to Narcissa herself what she decided to do. Next was Draco, who Voldemort gave up without a fight. The boy was useless to him for the time being, though he had been planning to have his father train him before Lucius got himself caught and Voldemort's change of heart began.

Harry asked of the Zabini family, but they were a neutral party. Never had any of their number joined the Dark Lord's forces and he didn't expect they ever would, nor would they join up with anyone else. The family was savvy enough not bruise egos in their refusals and for this reason had survived countless generations doing just what they were up to now. Voldemort wondered what the boy's interest in them was but dismissed the thoughts after a bit.

With no one else in mind to be converted, Harry wrenched instead a true promise of Voldemort's not to involve himself in Harry's affairs with his group. The Dark Lord found himself agreeing without truly meaning to under the force of Harry's immovability. The boy was far stronger than he gave him credit for.

Harry left and Voldemort ruminated in his quarters after, wishing Narcissa were around to speak with. Things often felt clearer and better once he'd spoken to her on them. Instead, he merely stared into the fire and let his thoughts circle one another.

----

Narcissa dropped the small ring into a pouch she then stuffed into a pocket of her robes. Her hands were dirty, dust covered her clothing and hair, and she had the distinct notion that she would never be able to smell anything ever again.

The house, if one could call it that, had been left in such a state of disuse that, as it was already in such disrepair when it had been inhabited, could have fallen in around her at any moment. She hated being there. Her skin crawled as she watched little crawly things move about in the darkened space. There was dusty light filtering in from the boarded up window, but it was barely anything to see by. She'd cast lumos during her search but quickly dismissed the spell once it wasn't needed yet. The half-light hid some of the less than pleasant sights of the shack.

With her duty finished there, she started to leave when the light went dark for a moment. Instantly, she hid herself in the rubble near the door and ignored the crawling of her skin. A quiet spell masked sound and smell from her, a second rendering her invisible. Very few wizards and witches were sensitive enough to sense magic being cast but she was willing to risk it since most couldn't.

The door creaked open. She dared not aparate for fear of having her trail followed. Why anyone would come here was beyond her. She watched carefully as a tall man in covering robes stepped through the door. Light streamed around him, obscuring further, but there was little need. The hood drawn down over his face kept any recognition impossible.

He rooted around a while and she had to move twice to keep from being discovered. Though he said nothing, she could see frustration mounting from the way he moved. Abruptly, he gave up what ever search he'd been on and left. A crack just outside the door signaled his departure. Narcissa slowly came out of hiding and frowned.

He had known to come here and she came to a very nasty conclusion. The man was after the ring. The only reason one would…

Narcissa left quickly and doubled her speed in searching for the rest of the items Voldemort wanted.

----

It took Harry a full day before he could face Ron. That gave the redhead enough time to burn through most of his anger and leave only a well of hurt and resentment. Harry tried to understand that, but the weight of his ambitions was pressing strong. He had to convince Ron to listen to him. He could write the Weasleys himself, but he needed Ron with him. He needed that stability. Hermione, he wasn't worried about bringing to his side. Ginny would come with her.

He had to have Ron with him before he could face Remus and Sirius.

Swallowing thickly, Harry stood in front of Ron's door and stared at the doorknob. He felt extremely nervous, more so than even when talking to Voldemort. Ron could easily refuse to see him and Harry knew he'd been a total prat before but he was going to fix it. He would make Ron understand and then they would be okay again.

The door opened without him touching it. Ron froze as he noted the presence on the other side and frowned. He didn't speak, just staring back at Harry and waiting. The black haired boy swallowed thickly.

“Hey,” he said, stupid as it sounded.

“Hey,” Ron muttered back without moving. They stared a while longer and Harry heard shuffling about behind Ron that meant the girls were there, too. That made him a bit more nervous.

“I'm a prat,” he blurted.

“Yes, you are,” Ron said coolly. “A grade A prat.”

Harry fought down resentment over Ron's resentment. He was trying to apologize here! Ron could give him a break.

“I was wrong.”

“Yes, you were.”

Harry scowled. Ron just stared at him, almost bored.

“Bloody hell, Ron, I'm sorry already!” he exploded angrily. Ron finally frowned at him.

“About time,” he grumbled. “I was wondering how long it'd take for you to say it.”

“You cruel beast,” Harry growled back, but the anger was waning now that Ron wasn't icing him out anymore.

“I suppose I was a bit distraught,” Ron said, shrugging a shoulder. He opened the door wider to admit Harry in. Harry took the invitation and though they were both still a bit rattled over one another, things would fix now. Harry could tell them about his plan and they would start getting everything organized.

Hermione and Ginny sat on the bed with exasperated expressions.

“…Boys,” the elder of the two finally said with a roll of her eyes. Ginny just nodded in reply.

----

There was pure terror in the school. Students moved about in panicked groups, their wide eyes looking this way and that, looking for an enemy they knew nothing about. There were whispers that the accidents would continue, that they'd get worse with time. They wondered who would be next petrified.

He watched them, taking an odd sort of glee in how easy it had been to bring them such fear even as another part of him was horrified. There had been no deaths, of course. He was careful. Still, five students in the hospital wing were waiting for mature mandrakes to free them from their bodily prisons.

The teachers were doing everything he said. They were mindless with fear and the need to protect their charges. They couldn't do anything, but they tried and somehow, that made him happy.

In all the chaos, he watched the boy. Tom thought he was going insane. He listened to the boy's thoughts, saw the horror and terror within them, and smiled. Tom thought he was cursed, seeing the attacks in his dreams only to wake up and find another fellow child in the hospital wing. It was ridiculously easy to manipulate him then.

And then one girl died. It had been a accident, but that wouldn't bring her back. Aurors scoured the place after a coroner had removed the child's body. She'd died instantly and though her spirit showed up only an hour after being removed, she had no idea what had killed her.

There was talk of closing the school. Tom contemplated suicide because he was convinced he'd somehow caused the attacks. He kept dreaming of traveling the school and finding victims, of the satisfaction in watching the girl die. He couldn't let his tool kill himself.

The attacks mysteriously stopped and it was everything he could do the rest of the year to heal the boy enough to go on. Somehow, he managed to convince Tom that the dreams hadn't been real, hadn't been anything but dreams. Tom believed him because he was desperate to have that sin off his soul.

He felt almost sorry for the child he was polluting, but…. It was for the greater good.