![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
batsutousaiTitle: Abandoned: The Re-Write
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: M/R
Main Pairing: Harry/Tom, Harry/Voldemort
Side Pairings: Ginny/Theodore Nott, Seamus/Blaise Zabini, past-Ron/Hermione, Hermione/Luna, others
Warnings: SLASH, mentions of child abuse/rape/torture, language, character death, minor Dumbledore bashing, Grey-to-Dark!Harry
Summary: A complete re-write of Abandon: Before the start of his seventh year, Harry Potter is abandoned in London by his muggle family and finds himself befriending Lord Voldemort.
Chapter Fifteen: Prophecy
-0-
Harry woke on Saturday morning with a grin. Last night had been amazing, despite the fact that he and the Dark Lord had only danced for a bit longer before parting ways for bed. Neither of them were ready for more than the few kisses here and there, but Harry was glad their relationship was out in the open. (Even if it did mean he was going to get yelled at by his friends.)
He was just heading out of his dorm room to go to breakfast when Seamus slurred, "Someone got laid."
"You?" Harry suggested, still feeling high as a kite.
Seamus blinked at the only teen out of bed. "No, you. Obviously."
Harry snorted. "Marcus and I have not slept together, thanks," he retorted and hurried from the room.
"Too much information!" Ron shouted after him and Harry could vaguely make out the sound of a pillow hitting someone's face. If he had to guess, he'd say Ron had thrown a pillow at Seamus.
When Harry got into the Great Hall, it was mostly empty, so he picked out his normal seat and served himself some biscuits and tea. Hermione and the Slytherins came down not five minutes later and Harry offered his friend a fond smile when she started loading his plate with some fruit and a couple sausages.
"You're being obnoxiously happy, Potter," Malfoy complained as he served himself. "Stop it."
"Why are you so grumpy this morning?" Harry aksed. "You're acting like my dorm mates and it's creeping me out a bit." Most of the snakes grimaced at the mere thought of acting like Gryffindors.
"Party in the Slytherin dorms last night after the dance was over," Blaise offered, yawning. "We were up late."
"Then why get up so early?" Hermione asked; when she had a late night, she slept in.
"Slytherin rule," Nott supplied. "You're up by eight or no breakfast."
"That's wrong!" Hermione snapped, frowning. "They can't decide whether you eat or not!"
"It's an image thing," Parkinson offered, leaning on her elbows and giving the muggleborn a tired look. "Slytherins don't come to breakfast late and they especially don't come in at the last moment to grab a roll and then run for class like some Gryffindors."
Almost as if it had conjured them, the rest of the Gryffindors from their group came trouping in, minus Ginny and Neville, who Madam Pomfrey had held overnight on account of their obvious insanity. (Play-fighting with real blades? Madness!)
There was some mild grumblings about it being a crappy morning and some complaints about the food choices, just as there were most mornings.
Once everyone had sated their initial cravings, Seamus gave Harry a bleary look and demanded, "If you didn't sleep with him, why are you so happy?"
On the other side of Nott, Ron started choking and Dean had to smack him on the back. Hermione and Parkinson shot the Irishman twin disgusted looks and the three Slytherin males just shook their heads pityingly.
"Why? Do I have to sleep with someone to be happy?" Harry demanded, setting down his fork.
"To be practically whistling as soon as you're out of bed, yeah," Seamus shot back, waking up a little more.
"Seamus, leave him be..." Blaise tried.
"So, any time you're absolutely jumping with joy, should I start asking about your sex life?" Harry spat, all his pleasure from the morning gone. "Being happy must mean you've just been–"
A throat cleared behind them and all the students turned to see Marcus standing there, frowning at Seamus. "If you're quite through?" he asked, directing the question at the Irishman, even though it had been Harry he'd interrupted.
Seamus sank down in his seat, face turning red. "Sorry, Harry," he said to his porridge.
Marcus rested his hands gently on Harry's shoulders, making the teen flinch, then relax. "The Headmaster wants to talk to us when you're done," the Dark Lord murmured.
Harry sighed and nodded. "Okay."
"There's nothing in the rules about relationships between students and professors," Hermione helpfully offered as Harry stood. "And you're of age, so..."
Harry smiled at his friend. "I know, 'Mione. Thanks."
Harry and Marcus walked together from the Great Hall, both ignoring the whispers that followed them.
About halfway to the Headmaster's office, Harry realised Marcus' arm kept twitching, so he motioned to an empty classroom and, grimacing, Marcus followed him. Once they'd thrown up some wards, Harry turned to the older wizard and asked, "What is it, Tom?"
The Dark Lord sighed and rubbed at his face. "Nothing important."
Harry managed a faint smile. "You're twitching. Is this about us becoming public?"
Marcus shook his head. "No. No, I don't mind that. I mean, it's going to be awkward, but it's not a problem. It's–" Marcus ran an irritated hand through his hair and started pacing. "Dammit! I'm really bad at this, Harry."
Harry's smile widened and he relaxed back against a desk. "I know emotions aren't your thing," he reassured the Dark Lord. "Just say it and we'll figure it out."
Marcus hissed angrily and leant against another desk across from Harry. "I want to protect you," he said, clutching the desk, "but I don't know how. I–I touch you and you flinch. Your friends...they–"
"They don't know," Harry murmured. "Tom, listen: You and I, we grew up alike, right? Sort of. But you could still lean on some of the caretakers at your orphanage, for all that they didn't care for you, they'd make sure you got some food and clothing and stuff, right?"
Marcus nodded. "Yes. They tried to care for all of us the same."
Harry shrugged. "I didn't have that," he admitted, grimacing. "I had the Dursleys, who would sooner see me dead in a ditch, and Dudley and his gang, who were quite happy to beat me up if they could get their hands on me. I didn't... There was never a gentle hand, never anything but hate, and if I screwed something up, I'd get hit."
Marcus sighed and bowed his head. "I know that. Or, well, I guessed as much. Your flinch..."
"Abused kid," Harry muttered, snorting. "Yeah, well... I can't help it. I try, really I do, and I'm better than I was – my first year, Ron and Hermione couldn't come within two metres of me without me flinching." He sighed. "They always used to ask why I flinched, but I wasn't about to tell them, you know? Who'd want to be friends with someone who was always getting beat at home?"
"Who wants to be friends with a freak?" Marcus offered and they shared a moment of understanding.
"Anyway. After that Christmas, Hermione must have figured it out, at least a bit, because she got Ron to stop asking me all the time. And then she started making a point of hugging me and touching my shoulder. She'd always make sure I was watching first and she'd be real slow about it. Ron and his brothers, Fred and George, they all started doing the same thing after they picked me up in my second year. And by the time I got to be friends with the rest of my roommates and Ginny, I was mostly okay. I mean, I'd flinch if I wasn't expecting it, but I was okay."
"Until last summer," Marcus suggested.
Harry grimaced and inclined his head. "Sirius died and Dudley and his gang caught me, and then Mad-Eye started training me, and if he doesn't make you jumpy, I don't know what will. But..." He sighed. "I'm not about to try explaining Dudley to them, didn't much care to ever tell anyone, honestly."
"I'm glad I found out," Marcus murmured. When Harry gave him a disbelieving look, he said, "What? I do! It helps me figure out how you might react to various things." He grimaced, then admitted, "I need all the help I can get."
Harry smiled at that. "You're not doing that bad," he offered. "For a Dark Lord."
Marcus snorted, amused. "Good point. Not a particularly high bar, there."
Harry snickered and hopped up onto the desk he'd been leaning against. "No, not really."
They were silent for a long moment, then Marcus asked, "What about your training? With Moody?"
Harry shrugged. "As far as the Order and Dumbledore and the Ministry are aware, I was only trained for the one summer. But Alastor thought I needed more training, and as much as getting my arse handed to me weekly sucks..."
Marcus snorted. "You're a far better opponent now than you ever were as a kid," he agreed. "You would have been out after five minutes, even in a mock duel."
Harry grinned at the compliment. "Don't I know it. But, yeah. Kinda not supposed to tell people about the training. At first it wasn't such a big secret, but then Alastor continued my training during the school year and we sort of agreed to not talk about it. I know the Headmaster disapproves, but he hasn't said anything to me about it. Alastor says he's talked to him a few times, but Dumbledore hasn't come right out and told him to stop or else."
"Not that Moody would listen to an ultimatum," Marcus muttered, making Harry laugh. "You call him by his first name?"
Harry nodded. "We've been training together for over a year, now. We're sort of friends. And I do mean that in the absolute loosest of senses."
Marcus chuckled and shook his head. "I should think so. I don't think Moody ever had friends."
"If he did, he probably killed them before they could kill him," Harry replied, rolling his eyes.
Marcus sighed and pushed away from the desk he'd been leaning against. "Well, we should probably go see the old fool. Preferably before he sends out a search party."
Harry grimaced and jumped down to join the older wizard in taking down the wards they'd put up. Just before they left the room, he said, "Marcus?" and when the Dark Lord looked at him, Harry hugged him. "Thanks."
Marcus wrapped his arms around Harry and took a moment to just breathe, letting the contact soothe the worst of his nerves. Then he pulled back. "Come on. Search parties."
Harry smiled and followed the Dark Lord from the room. They finished their trip up to Dumbledore's office in silence, walking close enough together that their hands would occasionally brush.
The Headmaster called them in as soon as they knocked and offered them tea and lemon drops, both of which they declined.
With the niceties taken care of, Dumbledore sat back in his chair and gave the two wizards in front of him a stern look. "There is nothing in Hogwarts' rules that states that a professor and a student cannot have a relationship, especially if the student is of age, but that does not mean you should flaunt it."
"We're hardly 'flaunting' anything, Headmaster," Marcus replied stiffly. "We danced together at a public function, as did a number of other students and professors. Mr Potter was not the only student I danced with, as I was not the only person he danced with."
"Professor, Marcus and I have been dating for over a month now, and this is the first anyone has heard of it," Harry cut in before the Dark Lord could lose his temper; Harry didn't need an emotional bond with the man to know he was close to snapping. "We are capable of keeping our relationship behind closed doors, and will, in fact, probably continue to do so."
Dumbledore sighed and adopted a grandfatherly expression which had Marcus biting back a sneer and Harry mentally rolling his eyes. "I'm just worried about you, my boy. Any relationship you have will be front page news within days, and that it's with a professor..."
"It wouldn't be the first time I've been slandered in the papers, sir, and I very much doubt it will be the last. I trust that the school can keep any reporters from troubling my studies or those of my peers." Harry frowned. "I see no reason to choose my relationships with public opinion in mind."
Dumbledore turned to Marcus, then, conceding that round to Harry. "You will be seen as favouring him."
Marcus raised an eyebrow at the Headmaster, then turned to Harry. "Do I favour you?"
"You torture me," Harry replied drily. "You make me grade all the third year essays because it gives you a headache. Then you bring me to all your classes and curse me just to show the little wretches what a spell does."
Marcus' lips twitched with a smile as he turned back to Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling. "I chose Harry as my assistant because he is capable and undeniably the best Defence student in this school. He's spent the past two years teaching some of these students himself, and they respect him for that. As for in class, I hardly favour Harry over his peers. If anything, you might say I favour Miss Granger more, as she is constantly the one who answers my theoretical questions, but that is simply because she's quicker than anyone else with her answers."
The Headmaster sighed, but his twinkling eyes belied any disappointment in the sound. "Very well. Do try and keep things behind closed doors as much as possible, but I can't really stop you." He offered the two a smile, which Harry returned, but Marcus frowned at. "However, if your personal relationship in any way negatively affects your classroom relationship, we will be revisiting this. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," Harry replied for both of them.
"Very good. Now, I believe you have a couple of friends who would be grateful of a rescue?" the Headmaster suggested.
"Good point." Harry stood and grinned at Marcus. "You're friends with Madam Pomfrey, aren't you?"
"If you think I'm going to distract Poppy for you while you sneak your friends out–"
"Oh, come on, Marcus. Distract her with reason! Neither of them got hurt, so they must have worked on that mock fight before it actually happened, right? So using real weapons wasn't insane," Harry tried as they walked out together, Dumbledore chuckling behind them.
"Except I know for a fact that they didn't practise that routine beforehand."
"No one got hurt," Harry helpfully pointed out.
Marcus snorted. "You just want me there so Miss Weasley has someone other than you to focus her ire on."
"Maybe a little," Harry agreed, grimacing.
Marcus shook his head, amused. "Very well." He turned to Harry, expression warning of a plot being hatched. "However, I request a favour in return."
"Oh, dear Merlin." Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay. What's this favour?"
Marcus opened his mouth to answer, paused and looked troubled for a moment, then forged on, "Spend the day with me."
Harry blinked in surprise. He'd half expected the Dark Lord to ask him to do something embarrassing. "Okay," he agreed simply.
Marcus relaxed minutely. "Good."
Harry smiled and shook his head. "Did you actually expect me to say no?" he had to ask.
Marcus grimaced. "You always spend the weekend with your friends, working on homework."
"Sociopath," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes. Marcus snorted as he pushed the hospital wing doors open and they strode in. "Good morning, Gin, Nev!" Harry called to his friends. They had both been changed into hospital robes, but Ginny had managed to keep her eye patch and was wearing it.
"Have you come to free us?" Neville wondered, eyes wide with hope.
"The wicked witch is in her office, debating what other potions she should pour down our throats," Ginny added, looking irritated.
Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to come out of her office. "Miss Weasley, there is no debate needed; I know exactly the cure for you."
Harry coughed to cover a laugh. He'd always liked the mediwitch, for all that he was usually as desperate as any other student to leave her domain when stuck in a bed. "Good morning, Madam Pomfrey. The Headmaster sent me to release your captives. Something about their homework not doing itself?" He smiled winningly.
"So bring their homework here," Madam Pomfrey retorted.
"Wouldn't you rather release them willingly than have to keep an eye out for escape attempts?" Harry tried, widening his eyes adorably.
"I'm expecting Marcus to keep you from assisting them," the mediwitch replied drily, glancing at the wizard behind Harry. "And they usually fail if you're not helping."
"Oh, that reminds me," Ginny said, leaning forward on her bed. "What's this I hear about you and Professor Brutús finally going out?"
"Seamus was in here last night, telling her all about your kiss," Neville explained when Harry raised an eyebrow at the two.
"Couldn't you have trapped him in here, too?" Harry asked the mediwitch.
"Was there something the matter with him?" Madam Pomfrey asked, moving over to her potions cabinet.
"Just the usual Gryffindor madness," Marcus supplied, then looked over at Ginny. "And yes, Miss Weasley, Harry and I are officially 'dating'."
"Finally," Ginny said, lying back on her bed and looking pleased with the world.
Harry rolled his eyes and looked at the mediwitch. "Come on, Madam Pomfrey," he pleaded.
"I will release them for lunch, Mr Potter, and not a moment sooner," Madam Pomfrey replied, giving the teen a stern look. "Nothing you say will change that." She glanced over at Marcus, who raised an eyebrow at her. "Take him out of my infirmary before I assign him a bed."
Marcus chuckled and gently took Harry's arm to lead him from the room. "Come on, imp. We had a deal."
"You didn't help me at all!" Harry complained, even as he let himself be led out; he had no intention of getting stuck in the hospital wing until Madam Pomfrey decided she'd given him enough potions, not even to rescue his friends.
"I agreed to help with Miss Weasley, not Poppy," Marcus retorted just before the doors closed behind them.
"Help with me?" Ginny repeated, frowning thoughtfully. "Why would Harry need help with me?"
"Seamus probably said something stupid and Harry didn't want to chance you doing the same thing," Neville said, shrugging.
Ginny huffed. "I'd never do something to upset Harry!"
"I'm not even going to bother," Neville muttered. Ginny tossed a pillow at him in retaliation, which brought Madam Pomfrey over with more potions for the redhead. Neville relaxed back on his extra pillow and settled in to count stones on the ceiling for another few hours.
"Hey, Tom?" Harry called, looking up from the essays he was marking and glancing at the clock on the mantle. About another forty-five minutes until lunch.
"Hm?" Tom replied from his desk, where he was leaning over his own pile of essays.
"Aren't the Death Eaters getting a bit twitchy? I mean, I'm sure you had them causing trouble over the summer, but I haven't heard anything about them so far this year."
Tom sighed and set his pencil down before turning to the teen who was spread out over the couch. "I left Lucius with some instructions and told him I'd be out of contact for a while," he admitted. "Why so interested?"
"Just curious," Harry replied, setting down his own pencil and turning on the couch to face the Dark Lord. "Why Lucius? Specifically, I mean?"
Tom smirked. "Lucius is my second. He handles things I can't – or won't – handle myself. He doesn't know where I am or what I'm doing, but he has a way of contacting me if he needs to."
"Does Lucius have a second?" Harry asked, intrigued. From what he'd heard Mad-Eye and other Order members say, Voldemort shouldn't have had any form of hierarchy, other than what the Death Eaters created amongst themselves, but it sounded like Tom had actually made the elder Malfoy more important than any of his other Death Eaters.
Tom snorted. "No. He has the Inner Circle directly under him, and then the rest of my people are under them. Again, why so interested? Planning ways to infiltrate my side?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Not on your life. No, I'm just curious, and I knew you'd give me an honest answer." He shook his head. "Well, mostly honest. I'm sure you're leaving things out, like where Wormtail or Snape fall in the hierarchy, but whatever."
The Dark Lord chuckled as he moved over to join Harry on the couch, shoving the teen's legs out of the way and receiving a grin. "Imp. Wormtail is a regular Death Eater, but I keep him around for torturing purposes. And you clearly already know Severus is a spy."
Harry resettled himself against Tom's side, smiling when the older man's arm wrapped around him. "Kind of hard not to notice, you know? It's a matter of public record." He snickered. "There's a bet going around in Gryffindor about which side he's actually on."
Tom sighed and shook his head. "He's on his own side," he offered. "He informs on both myself and Dumbledore, but I don't think either of us trust him to be completely honest. That's the problem with a double agent, you never know what they're not saying, but he's useful enough at the moment."
Harry furrowed his brow. "You don't care that he's not actually working for you?"
Tom snorted. "I'd happily see him dead for his treachery, Harry, make no mistake, but what he can tell me about the Order is better than not knowing anything at all. Because of Severus, I know who is in the Order and I can keep my eyes on them. I may not know all their plans, but I know who to watch."
"I suppose that's a good point," Harry agreed. "Get to know their regular schedules so when they change them you know something's up."
Tom nodded and rested his chin against the top of Harry's head. "It's been a while since last I asked you something, and I was wondering if your answer has changed."
Harry blinked in surprise. "Okay. Ask."
The Dark Lord smiled just the slightest, then asked, "Where are you, in this war?"
"In school," Harry replied promptly.
Tom poked the teen in the side. "Don't be cute."
Harry snorted. "Sorry." He took a moment to consider the question before pulling away and turning to face Tom, who was watching him with a faint frown. "I don't know," Harry admitted. "I believe you, when you preach about how much trouble muggles could cause, but I don't really see the point in genocide. I mean, there are good muggles out there, you know?" He sighed and rubbed at his scar. "I don't want to fight you," he admitted quietly.
The Dark Lord grimaced. "I know."
Harry offered him a faint smile, then turned to the fireplace and recited, "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."
They were both silent for a long moment while Tom thought over the prophecy.
"I am reminded of the story of Oedipus," Tom finally said, scowling, "wherein his and his father's attempts to avoid a prophecy, in fact brought it about."
Harry snorted. "Yeah, really. You trying to avoid the prophecy is what set it moving."
Tom sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "We could consider the 'death' as a metaphorical one, I suppose..."
"The death of our hatred?" Harry suggested.
Tom cocked his head, considering that. "Your power would be to make me look beyond my hatred of yourself simply because I was curious, which brought about the 'death' of my need to kill you. It could fit."
"Yeah, okay. What about the live and survive bit?"
Tom snorted. "That's so easy: the act of survival is often defined as having continued on after a tragic event, while living is simply the act of continuing to exist on this plane of existence."
"So that muggle tripe about living life to the fullest–"
"Exactly." Tom nodded. "Think of surviving as the act of having lived through a terrible experience and refusing to move past it. Whereas living is simply that."
"I don't think I have enough fingers to count all the terrible experiences I've 'survived'," Harry offered drily.
Tom sighed. "Do you let the terrible experiences in your life guide what you'll do next?" He paused while Harry thought about that. Then, when Harry looked back up at him, admitted, "I do," and grimaced.
Harry smiled. "Yes. But it's hard not to let past experience guide us to some extent, right? I mean, I'm not about to forget that the Dursleys treated me like dirt for most of my life, and I'm not about to forgive them that, either. But, I think, maybe we need to stop reacting as if those bad experiences were our entire life, right? So, you killed my mum and dad, but my life shouldn't revolve around that fact."
"Even if it sort of does," Tom muttered, but there was a light of laughter in his eyes. "Don't focus on the crap, focus on the good things. Your obnoxious friends – would you even have them if your parents were still alive?"
Harry considered that. If his parents hadn't died, he probably wouldn't have been famous, so he would have grown up knowing some other magical children before Hogwarts. He wouldn't have needed Hermione to help him so much, and Ron would have been too busy being a prat about Harry's obvious wealth to make much of a friend. He probably would have been friends with Neville, but his Gryffindor friends were mostly muggle-raised, so he wouldn't have met them until Hogwarts. Any friends he'd had would have been in other Houses.
"I came to Hogwarts without friends," Harry said quietly, "so I wasn't too picky about who I befriended on the train. From what I know of my dad, though, I think I would never have made friends with Ron. I'd probably have known Nev, and I might have made friends with the rest, but our dynamics would have been completely different. Like, Dean and I are so close because we're both muggle-raised, and Nev and I are close because our families were abusive."
Tom nodded. "If I hadn't lost my body for thirteen years, perhaps I could have had the wizarding world by now, but, then again, perhaps not. Yes, I was winning at that point, but the students coming out of Hogwarts were good with their wands and more inclined to follow Dumbledore. And maybe..." He grimaced. "Maybe there's something to not committing muggle genocide."
Harry let out a mock gasp. "Tom, did you just agree that killing all the muggles might not be the way to go?"
"Shut up, Harry."
Harry chuckled and moved back over to rest against the Dark Lord's side.
Tom pulled the teen a little closer and sighed. "I told you before that I'm not so much for killing them all; I just want to separate us, keep our two peoples from coming in contact with each other at all."
"Okay. How?" Harry asked.
"Muggle repelling charms," Tom decided.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
Harry covered his mouth to try and keep his laughter quiet, but Tom heard him and used a well-placed hand to tickle the teen's side, which made Harry laugh helplessly and squirm to get away from him. "Mercy!" Harry gasped, half off the couch. "Mercy, you bastard!"
Tom stopped his attack and raised an imperious eyebrow. "I am the Dark Lord and I will not be laughed at. Understood?"
Harry snorted, then let out a cry and fell off the couch when Tom started tickling him again. "I'm sorry!" he cried, scooting under the coffee table and peering around one of the legs at Tom, who was smirking down at him. "You're such a bastard."
"Thank you for noticing."
Harry snorted again, then rolled under the coffee table to avoid hands looking to tickle him some more and came up on the other side, tongue out. "Ha. Tickle me now."
Tom chuckled and relaxed back on the couch. "I'm comfortable here, thanks."
Harry rolled his eyes and waved a chair over for him to sit in, not yet certain it was safe to return to Tom's side. "Bastard."
"Imp," Tom retorted, amused. "We'll just have to keep thinking about a way to separate the muggle and magical worlds."
"We?" Harry wondered.
"You are the one who keeps laughing down my ideas," the Dark Lord replied drily. "I want to see you come up with some of your own."
Harry leant forward in his chair, looking thoughtful. "Okay," he agreed. "I'll think on it."
"Good."
They were silent for a long moment, then Harry said, "So, I guess this means I'm on your side."
Tom blinked, surprised, and said, "Hm?"
Harry smiled. "You asked where I stood in the war? If it's between merging our world with the muggle world or keeping things as they are and separating the two worlds completely, I'm more inclined towards separating them. So I'm on your side."
Tom let out a breath and smiled. "I'm glad," he admitted.
There was a knock on the door to the room and they both turned towards it, surprised. After a moment, Hermione called, "Is Harry in there? We were going to head down for lunch."
Tom sighed and shifted back to his Marcus form as he made his way over to his door. "He's in here," he agreed upon opening the door. "Come on in."
"Oh, uhm, thanks..." Hermione, the other Gryffindors, Luna, and the four Slytherins all filed in.
"Hi!" Harry called, waving from his chair. "We were grading essays."
"What happened to you?" Malfoy demanded, taking in Harry rumpled appearance.
Seamus grinned. "It looks like someone–"
Marcus settled a heavy hand on the Irish boy's shoulder. "Don't complete that sentence, Mr Finnigan, or I'll assign you detention for the next month with Professor Snape. Am I clear?"
Seamus swallowed and nodded.
Harry snorted. "Marcus tickled me," he explained, laughing at his friends' disbelieving looks. "Would you prefer if I claimed he'd been trying to get me into the oven?"
"Let's avoid that line of thought," Ginny decided, walking over and tossing herself into an open chair. "Madam Pomfrey finally let Neville and me out, as you can see. Did you want to come with us to lunch, or does your 'deal' or whatever with Brutús require you to skip it?"
"You have a deal with him?" Parkinson asked as Marcus walked back over to his desk and papers, leaving Harry to deal with his friends. "What about?"
"Long story," Harry replied, shrugging. "And I think we were going to eat lunch in here, right, Marcus?" He looked over at the Dark Lord's back.
"You can go to lunch with your friends if you want," Marcus replied without turning back to look.
Harry blinked, then frowned. "One moment," he told his friends and hurried over to the older wizard. "What is it?" he whispered.
Marcus shrugged. "I didn't do a whole lot for my end of the deal, so there's really no need–"
"You're an idiot," Harry said fondly. "I would have spent the day with you even if we hadn't made a deal about it. Idiot."
Marcus scowled. "Brat."
Harry rolled his eyes and looked back at his friends, who were either leaning forward hopefully or rolling their eyes. "I'm staying here for lunch, sorry. I'll meet up with you all for dinner, if that's okay?"
"Whatever makes you happy, Harry," Hermione said, reaching out and pulling Ginny out of the chair where she'd made herself comfortable. "Enjoy the rest of your day. You, too, Professor."
Marcus nodded and absently waved over his shoulder, attention caught by something in the essay on the top of the pile.
Harry rolled his eyes again, then walked over to see his friends out, promising he'd spend the next day working on homework with them and, yes, he really did need to work on these essays and, no, Ginny couldn't stay and help.
Finally, he closed the door and leant back against in with a sigh. "Dear Merlin. Do you see, now, why I didn't want to tell them right away that we were dating?"
The Dark Lord snorted and finally pulled himself away from the essay he'd been reading. "Yes, I see. What do you want for lunch?"
Harry smiled and shrugged. "Whatever the house elves have is fine."
"Alright. Let me call down to the kitchens. Clean off the coffee table, please?"
"Sure thing," Harry agreed and moved his essays over to the other's desk. When he saw whose essay was on the top of the pile, he grinned and picked it up. "Seriously?"
"Harry, put that back," Tom ordered.
"But, seriously?" Harry looked up at the Dark Lord, grinning. "Seriously?"
Tom sighed and walked over to take the paper from the teen, glancing at it briefly. "Ah, Miss Brown's essay. Yes, she actually went there."
"Are you going to fail her for it?"
Tom snorted and set the paper back on his pile. "Fail her? I was going to give her an 'O'."
"But she wrote a paper on the Perfume Charm!"
"She made it into an offensive spell," Tom replied, herding Harry toward the food that had appeared on the coffee table. "Tell me you could have done better."
Harry shook his head. "No. No, I never would have..." He snorted. "I want to see her try that, though."
"Perhaps I'll ask her to come forward next class and show her idea off," Tom decided.
Harry grinned. "I'll remember to bring a clothespin."
Tom laughed.
-0-0-0-0-0-
A/N: OMG, prophecy!talk sucked. It didn't want to happen. And then I forced it to happen and had to rewrite it, like, seven times. *tears out hair*
On the other hand, while I was dissecting the prophecy, I had this amazing mental image of Tom and Harry throwing dice at each other to symbolise the 'one must die at the hand of the other' bit. I need someone to draw that for me. Seriously.
Also from dissecting the prophecy: my dictionary defines vanquish as to 'defeat utterly' and one of the definitions of defeat is 'thwart, frustrate', so now I want to write a fic where Harry 'vanquishes' Voldemort by utterly frustrating him. Possibly in the sexual sense. It would be amazing. ADMIT IT. *stare*
Right. No more sugar for the author.
~Bats ^.^x
Spell Explanations:
- Obolui [...] -- meaning 'to smell of' in Latin. Perfume Charm
An older light spell that's since fallen out of usage, which will bring a certain smell to those it's cast on. Usually used on ladies and lords in the same way modern witches wear perfume, but also used with an insult, such as saying someone is no better than dung and then causing them to smell like it.
The brackets contain the smell you wish to impart, so if you wanted something to smell of roses, you'd say "Obolui rose".
Abandon the Prequel: Sixth Year
Abandon chapter 01
Reclaim chapter One
Abandoned Chapters:
One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten
Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Fourteen ||
INCOMPLETE
.
