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| THE LIGHT ENTHRALLED BY THE DARKNESS | | | | | | | | |
| Chapter 2 - "Barely breathing" | | | | Translation: Christine & Mary
Beta Reader: Aislin Avalbane
2. Barely breathing
I'm falling apart
I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart
That's still beating*
Harry raced through the corridors of Hogwarts as if he wanted to escape from himself. He got into the first lavatory he came to, bent over the sink and vomited. Only when he ceased vomiting did his body finally stop shaking. He rinsed his face and mouth and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Watching his pale face, he heard the echo of his own words, which came back to him with increasing force and intensity, hitting him even more painfully every time:
While you take me.
He tightened his hands the sink’s edge, his knuckled becoming white.
Take me, Severus.
The Gryffindor hit his terrified reflection on the mirror with his fist, shattering it into pieces, and broke the silence with a hoarse scream. Pieces of glass tore his hand and shattered to the floor. Ignoring the blood and the pain, he fell from the sink onto the icy floor, where he curled up and started sobbing desperately.
This can’t be true! It can’t! This is insane! Snape must have added something in Hermione’s potion. He wanted to humiliate me, to denigrate me. He had planned this from the beginning. He always hated me.
The Professor’s face appeared before Harry’s eyes, expressing the same surprise and astonishment the Gryffindor felt. However, he quickly drove that vision off.
Yes, I’m sure that he wanted to humiliate me. And he did it. At last! How cruel can he be? What kind of person must he be to do such a thing? He finally found a way... to break me.
Harry curled up even more, leaning his head on his knees.
I don’t want to see him! I don’t want to know him! I’ll never look him in the face again! He doesn’t deserve it! From now on, Severus Snape will no longer exists to me!
Everybody saw it… What a laugh they must have had. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, whose deepest desire is the hated by all students, greasy Potions Master. Maybe it’ll even be published on the Daily Prophet. Knowing Malfoy, he probably rushed off to tell all the Slytherin’s who hadn’t witnessed it, and even to his father, which would, no doubt, lead to the papers.
Harry felt, once again, like he will vomit.
Oh, Merlin, how they looked at me… Even Ron and Hermione. Now how can I look them in the eyes again? How can I explain? No one will believe me. No one. This is the end of everything. Of all I am.
The young man stared at a spot on the wall. His eyes were empty and unseeing, as if he was sailing in a sea of memories now, watching the images that brought him this far. After a moment a sad shadow of a smile appeared on his face.
Me and Snape? This must be some kind of sick joke. I hate him! I always hated him! Even the fact that he saved my life doesn’t change the fact that he’s the most disgusting, the nastiest, and the grossest bastard in the world!
You have the most beautiful eyes in the world.
Harry, desperate, covered his ears with his hands, wishing to drown out the echo which kept coming back to him and gave him no peace. And every time it came back it meant only misery and pain.
No, it never happened. It couldn’t have! It was only a dream! In a few moments I’ll wake up and everything will be as it was before. I must be dreaming!
His mind, in order to alleviate the suffering, began to deny all that happened. But it did not help at all. The pain of his injured hand was all too real. The tears sparkling on his cheeks were as real as the cold, stone floor on which he was sitting. Everything was true. Unbelievable and fucked up, but still true.
He hid his face in his hands, wanting to drive off the striking images and words plaguing him; wanting to hide them in a dark, quite, safe corner of his mind, in a place where no one would ever find them.
He started. He heard footsteps in the corridor.
Classes were over and the students were filing into the corridors in masse, the hum of their laughter bringing Harry back to reality. He immediately jumped up from the floor, quickly wiping away the tears with his bloodied hand.
He looked fearfully at the door.
They couldn’t catch him. He had to hide somewhere where no one would find him!
He looked around the room, desperately, and then, slipping on some of the broken glass littering the floor, he rushed into one of the lavatory stalls and shut himself in, right at the moment when the bathroom door opened with a quiet creak and someone came in.
“Harry, are you here?” It was Hermione’s voice.
Harry, sitting on a toilet lid with his legs drawn up, closed his eyes and held his breath.
“Mate, we know you’re there. We have your stuff.” Ron’s voice was quiet and nervous. “If you want, we can leave them here for you to take ... or something.”
“Ron!” Hermione scolded him with a whisper, then turned to the locked door behind which Harry was hiding. “Listen, Harry ... What happened in class … “ She stopped for a moment, looking for the right words. “I’m sure it must have been a big mistake. I must have boggled up the potion.”
“But you never bog ... Ouch!” Ron made a sound like someone has stepped on his foot, and then fell silent.
“Harry?” Hermione uttered, standing close to the door, as if she were leaning on it. “Come out, please? We know it’s not your fault. You didn't know what you were doing. We’ll go to Professor Dumbledore and tell him everything.”
Suddenly the door opened. Hermione stepped back, losing her balance, and fell on Ron, who caught her just in time.
“Don’t. You. Dare.” Harry growled, clearly emphasizing every word.
When his friends looked at him, Ron opened his mouth in shock and Hermione gasped.
“Harry, what ... ” Her voice faltered as she gestured, with a slightly trembling finger, at Harry’s face and hand. Harry glanced at his reflection in the mirror and saw streaks and spots of blood on his face. He looked at his bloody hand. He studied it, surprised, as if it didn’t belong to him, then turned to his friends:
“I’ll be fine. It is not important now.” For a moment he stood thoughtful, as if trying to make a decision. “You have to promise not to tell any teacher about what happened in class today.”
“But Harry... Dumbledore has to know about this! Snape was not allowed to do that. It’s completely illegal!” Hermione was, clearly, angry. It was obvious from her posture and hardened features. Ron moved away from her, keeping a safe distance. “You must go to Professor Dumbledore and tell him everything!”
Harry tried to imagine the conversation in his mind.
“Headmaster, I have to tell you something. Professor Snape made me drink a potion that reveals one’s deepest desires and then it turned out that what I desire the most is... Professor Snape. I wanted him to take me, and in that very thought, I got hard. And everyone saw it ... ”
“Oh, this is really a serious problem. Perhaps you’d like some lemon drops?”
“Harry? Harry, can you hear me?” Hermione’s voice broke through Harry’s thoughts, bringing him back to the present.
“No!” He shouted suddenly. “I won’t tell anyone about this! Neither will you!”
“But Harry …” Ron tried to say something.
“If you want to betray me, than please, go and tell everyone you meet. But don’t you ever come near me again if you do!”
Ron, embarrassed, looked away.
“Snape probably had a great laugh when I left. What … what did he say?” Harry could feel a note of hesitation in his voice.
“Nothing.” Hermione looked sadly at her friend. “He looked pale and stayed at his desk, staring at the door.”
“Honesty, he looked strange,” said Ron. “When Malfoy snickered, Snape just turned his back at the class and ended the lesson and told us all to leave.”
“Reckon he wanted to revel in his victory alone,” said Harry, bitterly, gritting his teeth a little. “The famous Harry Potter finally destroyed and humiliated by Severus Snape.”
“Harry I don’t think so,” started Hermione, but was cut off by a sharp glare from Harry.
“Snape is a nasty bastard, and nothing can change that. He finally won! Oh, how proud must he be!” His voice trembled with rage over which he prevailed with great difficulty.
Just then the bathroom door opened and a first-year student entered.
“Can’t you see that I’m USING it?!” Harry shouted and the boy went deathly pale and ran back out without a word.
“Calm down, Harry,” Hermione whispered. “We only want to help you.”
“Good. Then you can bring me my invisibility cloak. Here.”
***
Harry crossed the corridors in his cloak, trying not to bump into any of the students wandering about. He wondered how they could laugh so carefree and joke when the whole world was in ruins.
Every now and then his ears caught pieces of sentences:
“Potter... Show... Snape... Shock... Fun … ”
So the rumors have already started spreading, Harry thought angrily. Brilliant. Just bloody fucking brilliant …
“… and then Potter started crying. You could actually see his erection through his trousers when he began to walk through the class towards Snape!” At the sound of Draco Malfoy’s voice Harry abruptly turned around and saw his hated enemy describing, to the audience around him, the incident in class. Everyone roared with laughter, including Malfoy who, while describing the incident began to imitate Harry. After taking on a ridiculous expression, he stretched out his hand and moved towards Goyle, stumbling and looking at him with adoration dominating his dreamy face. “You have the most beautiful eyes in the world … ” he said snuffling and sobbing. “Take me, Severus …”
The Slytherins burst into laughter so loud it made Harry’s eardrums hurt. Malfoy was laughing so hard that he had to hold on to Crabbe so he wouldn’t fall over!
Harry was overtaken by rage. He wanted to pounce on Malfoy and rip that stupid smile from his ugly, smug, face.
“If Potter shows up at dinner,” Draco giggled, trying to catch his breath, “he will regret that he was born!”
Cold drops of sweat appeared on Harry’s forehead. Repeating to himself that he should keep his temper, he stepped into a corner, closed his eyes and covered his ears.
He had to calm down. He couldn’t reveal himself now. They would eat him alive. His desire to tear Malfoy’s grin off his face was now nothing compared to the shame he felt, and remembering his lamentable performance played a major role. He was too weak to deal with this. Yes, it was true, he had come face to face with Voldemort four times, but he was just one wizard who threatened Harry and his loved ones. Now, Harry would have to fight not only with the entire school, but with his own shame and humiliation. His completely shattered self-esteem was too strong an opponent.
He wanted to disappear, dissolve into the air. Become invisible forever.
He could never show himself to anyone ever again. He imagined he’d have to leave Hogwarts. But go where? Hogwarts was his home. He couldn’t leave it. He had no place else to go.
He took several deep breaths, trying to control the raging storm inside him, and then opened his eyes. The Slytherins, reeling with laughter, moved towards the Great Hall. Harry sighed and dragged himself to the dormitory.
***
“Harry? You here?” Ron’s whisper was heard in the silence that prevailed in the bedroom.
Harry gently touched the curtain of his bed. Ron let out a sigh of relief and went to his friend’s bedside.
“I brought you some food, mate.” Ron held a plate out. Harry’s hand appeared, grabbed it and pulled it back under the invisibility cloak. There were sounds of smacking lips and gulping. Ron sat on the bed, waiting patiently until his friend had finished. When Harry gave him the plate back, muttering a thanks, Ron cleared his throat and asked, “How are you? Okay?”
For a moment there was silence.
“Besides everyone thinking that I’m gay and a sick pervert, everything’s fine.”
Ron blushed and then quietly said, “Hermione’s trying to stop people talking about this, but they won’t.”
“Thanks, Ron. That was comforting,” Harry’s voice was unusually blunt.
Ron tried to think of some cheering words to say, but he couldn’t come up with any. Hermione was always better in these situations, but right now she wasn’t here and Ron was at a loss. After several minutes of awkward silence, he said shyly, “We’re with you. Hermione and I. And a few other people. Not all are such tossers, like Malfoy and his gang. And like Seamus and Dean, who are constantly making fun of you. If I could, I -- “
“Okay,” Harry interrupted him. “You don’t have to comfort me. You don’t have to sit here with me.”
“We’re mates. I can’t leave you here alone.” When Harry didn’t answer, Ron asked, “How’s your hand?”
“Pretty good,” Harry quietly replied. “The bleeding stopped and it doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”
“Well, Hermione knows something about healing spells. But maybe it would be better if you went to -- ”
“No!” Harry interrupted with a sharp voice. “We've talked about this already.”
Suddenly the door creaked quietly.
“Who are you talking to?”
Neville came in the room. Ron hastily jumped off Harry’s bed.
“To no one,” he answered quickly, pretending that he was looking for something on the floor. “I can’t find my Wizard’s Chess.”
“Harry’s here, isn’t he?”
Ron was petrified.
“What makes you say that?” He tried to make his voice sound indifferent and perfunctory, but Neville wasn’t listening anymore. He stood and stared at Harry’s bed, as if he was pondering something.
“Harry, if you’re here, I want you to know that I believe you. Snape just wanted to humiliate you. He probably put something in that elixir, you… you know …” A blush appeared on his cheeks. “He always hated you. You should have seen how intensely he was staring at your empty place at dinner. Surely he wants to keep picking on you. But don’t worry,” Neville smiled embarrassed. “You have us. I believe you. Luna believes you. And a few other people do, too.”
Neville stood for a moment, as if he wanted to say something else, but then he turned around and walked towards the exit.
“Thanks, Neville” whispered Harry.
***
Harry raced through the corridors of Hogwarts.
He did not want to be late for class. He tried to run as fast as he could, but it seemed like there was an invisible barrier that was stopping him in his place and was not allowing him to move on. His movements were slow and limited and he felt like he was underwater. But he knew that he could not be late! He had to make it no matter what!
He moved his feet as fast as he could, but it felt like he was moving at a snail’s pace.
Suddenly, just before him, a huge, stone wall grew. The wall went from one end of the corridor to the other and blocked his way. Knowing that there was no other way, he jumped and grabbed at the edge. Then, grunting from the effort, he began to climb. When he jumped down on the other side, he saw a void beneath his feet, a dark bottomless abyss over which hovered a shaky bridge, laced with a few ropes. He went to it, clinging to the ropes, knowing that these were the only things holding him from being swallowed up by the gaping abyss beneath him. Slowly, he began to wade across. When he was in the middle, he felt a gust of hot air and, after a while, right next to him suddenly appeared a pillar of fire. He cried out, horrified, grabbing the ropes tightly and closed his eyes as the bridge began to sway dangerously. Then a huge, terrifying and roaring Norwegian Ridgeback Dragon flew out of the abyss. Harry froze in horror and stared into the eyes of the beast. The moment the dragon opened his mouth to breathe out fire and turn him into a pile of hot ash, Hagrid’s voice was heard from above:
"Norbert! Where are you, you naughty beast!"
The dragon’s mouth shut as Norbert spread his enormous wings and flew away. Harry sighed with relief. As soon as classes were over, he would have a talk with Hagrid and would insist that he really should not keep a huge fire-breathing dragon in the castle!
He crossed the rest of the bridge without any major surprises but, at the end of the road, endless stairs that led down and disappeared somewhere into the dark were waiting for him. The moment he set his foot on the first step, the stairs turned into a flat, sloped surface and, with a scream, Harry slid on his butt, straight down into the darkness. He landed with a scrape and a thud on the floor in a dark room. The only light was coming from a torch hanging on the wall.
He was in the dungeons. What was he doing here? He should hurry to Transfiguration.
The moment he thought of that, a figure materialized behind him and someone’s hand covered his mouth. Harry tried to scream, but no sound came out. He felt strong hands lifting him off his feet and throwing him into a wall. An extremely cold body clung to him from behind and then Harry realized that he was naked. He groaned when a second hand clamped firmly around his cock and started stroking him. At that moment he felt as if his body exploded into millions of sparks, tingling and burning all his nerve endings, taking away all of his strength, leaving him weakened. He felt his legs bending under him, but he hung on to the crevices in the stone wall with his fingers before the fell. Suddenly, he felt a hot breath on his neck and a painful bite on his collarbone. He moaned silently, while his cock shuddered violently. He gathered all the strength inside him to try and break free, but he was unable to. He felt weak and helpless, and the hand, which was moving faster and faster over his throbbing erection, was giving him violent chills up and down his spine, which he couldn’t control. It was as if a current was flowing through his body, paralyzing him and taking away all his willpower.
He began to whimper and keen with pleasure. He leaned his forehead against the cold wall of the dungeon and tried to control the alternating hot and cold waves. He felt as if he was plunging deeper into the sticky, stifling darkness, forgetting everything that was ever important to him. And the only tangible thing was the cool hand stroking quickly on his cock and setting his body and mind in an unimaginable state of intoxication. The man behind him tortured him with slow licks, exploring the space behind Harry’s ears, his neck, and his shoulders. Each touch of the hot, wet tongue was like a red-hot poker, a burning wound on his skin. He was unable to do anything. He felt like a puppet, led by the hands and lips of a stranger, completely helpless in his arms.
And then he heard a low, ominous whisper in his right ear:
"When I finish with you, you will be nothing more than ebbing coals."
Harry thought that it would take only one more moment and he would explode in this man’s arms, and the power of this explosion would be so great that the castle itself would be shaken off its foundations. He moaned softly when the body behind him shifted slightly, and the hand clumping his mouth moved to the back of his head. Long, cool fingers slipped into his hair, and Harry gasped with delight, his was trapped between the man's cold skin and the cool stones of the wall, and the heat, which overwhelmed his chest, slowly prevailed in his entire body. He felt teeth digging into his neck, his hair was pulled strongly and his head was violently tilted. It caused him pain, but he felt the unimaginable pleasure that struck him like a whip and threw him against the wall.
“I see that you like pain.” It was not a question, but Harry instinctively nodded, enjoying the sharp, intense feeling that ran on like a drug. It was even better than pleasure. No, it was, in itself… pleasure.
“Perfect,” continued the dark, husky voice as the cool hand that was still stroking his erection, suddenly froze and tightened around him with great force. “Because I’m going to cause you a lot of pain.”
Harry moaned, feeling another strong pull on his hair and, in that same moment, he was turned around and pushed, roughly, back into the wall. When he looked up, he saw before him demonic black eyes --
-- and woke up with a loud groan. His heart was beating fast, as if trying to tear itself out of his chest. His entire body was shaking as the waves of pleasure in his chest slowly disappeared. He groaned for a moment, burying his head into the pillow, Trying to stop the feelings from assailing his body. When he was able to finally calm down, and the burning sensation of delight subsided, he opened his eyes and looked down at his pajama bottoms. He saw on his crotch a huge, sticky stain. When he lifted the hem, he saw that his abdomen as covered with semen.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!!!” He cursed silently, staring with disbelief at the mess. “This can’t be happening! It’s impossible! Damn it!”
He looked around the dorm at his sleeping housemates, who were peacefully slumbering, and thanked God that he’d thought to put a silencing charm around his bed before going to sleep.
He fell back on the pillow with a sigh and closed his eyes. In his mind, images of that dream began to appear.
He remembered the stairs… and the dungeons… and the black, bottomless eyes…
His heart sped up.
No, it can’t be true!
***
“Harry! Harry! Wake up!” Harry felt a slight shaking on his arm and heard Ron’s voice breaking through the milky, dense fog of sleep, enclosing his sleepy mind. “We all went for breakfast. Get dressed and go.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” said the Gryffindor, pulling the covers over his head.
“Don’t be silly, man. After all, you have to eat something.”
“Bring me food here, like yesterday.”
“But Harry -- ” started Ron, but then Harry said in a forceful voice:
“Ron, please!”
The redhead shut his mouth and nodded. Before Harry had a chance to get up from bed, his friend had disappeared.
While he was getting dressed, Harry reflected on the way in which he would have to live from now on. There was no way in the world he could walk freely around the castle anymore. For all classes, he would walk with the cloak on and remove it at the last minute around the corner of the classroom, just in time to be admitted by the teacher for class. Ron and Hermione could provide him with meals. And Quiddich… This was Harry’s biggest problem. Quiddich was his greatest passion but now, how would he look anyone on the team in the eye? He would have to come up with something. Maybe if they thought he’d caught a cold and wouldn’t be able to participate in training in the near future? And until the next match the situation could calm down and then he could play. Unless, of course he wasn’t expelled from the team because they think he wants to fuck the most hated teacher in the school. But maybe the missed trainings would be a reason too expel him.
Harry sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed.
It was all Snape’s fault! That greasy son of a bitch completely buggered up his whole life! He wouldn’t ever forgive him for that! He would find a way to get back at Snape, and then Snape would regret every vicious word, every nasty comment he ever threw Harry’s way over the years. No one could ever cause Harry such raw, seething fury as Severus Snape! Just hearing Snape’s name caused Harry’s blood to boil! The very thought that he could ever desire such a vial human being as Severus Snape was ridiculous!
In Harry’s head appeared an image of two dark, fathomless, demonic eyes that he saw in his sleep… The mere recollection of it made him feel hot, and a flush crawled on his face.
It couldn’t have been him.
No, it certainly wasn’t.
Besides, the memory of the dream was so vague that when Harry woke up, he wondered if he had really dreamed it, or just thought it. Anyway, apparently every young man his age sometimes wakes up in this state… and it doesn't matter what he was dreaming… right?
Footsteps on the stairs interrupted Harry’s thoughts. Frightened, he quickly threw the invisibility cloak over himself, but it was only Ron, who was returning with breakfast. Harry ate in a hurry, and then marched to Transfiguration with his father’s cloak tightly wrapped around him.
He couldn’t say that he was not nervous, or even scared, before his first encounter with the other students, but decided not to give them the chance to trouble him. The moment Professor McGonagall appeared, Harry quickly took off his cloak, put it in his backpack, took several deep breaths and then jumped out from behind the corner and ran into the class just as McGonagall closed the door behind the last student. The professor looked at him, surprised, but did not comment on his sudden arrival. However, among the students, his appearance caused a considerable sensation. Everyone stared at him and whispered things among themselves, covering their mouths and occasionally bursting into laughter.
“What’s going on?” Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice interrupted the murmurs assailing the classroom. “Silence! Sit down and take out your books.”
For the first time in his life Harry was grateful that McGonagall was a severe professor and did not tolerate discussions in the classroom. He sat next to Ron, trying not to look at anyone in particular, especially anyone sitting at the Slytherin tables. He knew that if Malfoy tried to provoke him with something, he would end up losing his temper and doing something stupid. The memory of what Malfoy had said yesterday in the corridor was still quite fresh in his mind, and Ron told him that during dinner and breakfast the Slytherins were competing in coming up with “funny” songs about him and Snape. Harry didn’t want to know what they had come up with.
During the rest of the class Harry wondered how he could quit Potions. He would sooner die than go to ask Snape. He didn't want to have anything to do with that bastard. The best would be if he never had to see that hook nosed tosser and his thin-lipped twisted and sarcastic smile ever again.
But he knew he needed potions class to become an Auror. But there are many other careers in the wizarding world in which he could be great at. He could become a professional Quidditch player… For that he definitely wouldn’t need Potions.
The biff that Ron gave him then pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced up to see McGonagall was looking at him with a stern expression on her face.
“Maybe Mr. Potter could stop swinging from the clouds and return to the lesson?”
“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, lowering his eyes onto the desk. Malicious whispers were heard around him.
“Potter, are you dreaming of Snape?” It was Seamus’ voice.
“Shut up!” hissed Harry. Seamus and Dean began to giggle and Harry ended up blushing furiously.
During the Transfiguration lesson, changing snails into towels – of which he could see no practical use, really – Harry found himself too distracted to properly concentrate. The buzzing that accompanied the practical exercises was an ideal opportunity for the students to talk to Harry, and every now and then various disgusting and disturbing comments reached him. Ron and Hermione took their seats on either side of him, like personal bodyguards, and refuted any provocations on the part of their friend. Harry was grateful to them. With every vicious remark delivered to him by his former friends, he felt a growing frustration. “Snape’s lover”, “Snape’s slut” – these were some of the milder terms they were insulting him with.
Harry’s hands were shaking as he tried to transfigure his snail.
“Harry, tell McGonagall,” Hermione’s voice was almost pleading. “She’ll end this.”
“No!” Harry hissed, trying to focus on the spell.
He dreamed that class was over and that everyone finally gave him peace. He just wanted to run away and hide back in the dormitory. He decided he wasn’t going to go to any other classes. He didn’t want to give the other student’s any more opportunities to humiliate him.
The sound of a knock on the door broke the hubbub that prevailed in the classroom. McGonagall went to open it, talked briefly with the person standing behind it and then told the students, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Keep to your lessons. ” She shot a sinister look at the class, then went out.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Harry tensed and groaned. “Oh, no …”
“Potter!” Harry froze, hearing Draco Malfoy’s voice from where he was sitting on the other side of the classroom. “Where have you been for so long? Hiding in Snape’s dungeon?”
“Shut up, Malfoy!” yelled Ron, but the blonde completely ignored him.
“What were you doing?” continued the Slytherin, smiling maliciously. “Did Snape satisfy your perverted fantasies?”
Harry felt a surge of shame and hatred. He saw around him the amused faces, drawing pleasure from this, as the Slytherin humiliated him.
“Tell us how it was when he took you,” continued Malfoy, his every word was like a stab in Harry’s heart and gut, heating his desire for revenge. “Was it like in your visions? He fucked you and you looked into his black, arousing eyes, begging for more?”
The laughter around him became louder, and Malfoy just smiled, pleased with himself. The only thing Harry felt for him at the moment was hatred.
“Potter, tell us, how is it when you suck Snape’s cock? Does his come taste like potions?”
Everything went dark before Harry’s eyes. Harry heard nothing outside of Malfoy’s voice, and saw only him. The rage, which was growing inside him, made his body shudder. He felt burning at the corners of his eyes. Ron and Hermione watched him with concern.
“Potter, show us how you moaned his name,” Malfoy closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Oh, Severus, fuck me… just like that… harder! Ah!”
The laughter, which broke out over the whole classroom, was nothing compared to the screams of rage that conquered Harry’s mind and escaped his mouth. Driven by instinct, and completely forgetting everything else, he jumped up and left the bench, took a few steps, and leapt at the blonde Slytherin. Malfoy shrieked in surprise as he was knocked off the bench, landing on the floor with Harry on top of him. Harry was blinded by burning hatred. He didn’t feel anything now, apart from the desire for murder. He wanted to destroy Malfoy, crash his skull, take out his eyes, break his bones! He fought on blindly as the beast inside him roared, enjoying the fear and pain coming from Malfoy. The wounds on his hand reopened when he hit the Slytherin’s nose, from which thick blood gushed. At the same time, Malfoy’s fist hit Harry in the jaw in defense, and Harry now had the bitter taste of blood in his mouth. Around him, he heard shouts and screams, but they only seemed to reach him from afar. Malfoy grabbed his hair at the moment when someone’s hands seized him from behind and tried to pull him away from his target.
“Harry, stop it!” Hermione’s terrified shout came to him.
Harry writhed and escaped from the grip, then jumped back in the direction of the blood-drenched Slytherin, but then a barrier was created between them that Harry could not surpass.
Sudden silence reigned in the class.
Harry got up from the floor, gasping, and looked at the door. At the entrance stood Professor McGonagall with her wand outstretched and an expression of terror mixed with rage on her face.
“Everyone except Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy leave immediately!” Her voice trembled with indignation. “Go!”
The students, without a single word, picked up their belongings and hurried out of the classroom. Harry’s breath slowly went back to normal as the adrenaline in his system subsided. It was then he felt a horrible pain on his right hand. He also felt blood running down his lips. Malfoy, holding his nose that was bleeding profusely, slowly got up from the floor.
McGonagall walked stiffly to her desk, sat beside it and gazed at the two students with a menacing look.
“Can someone explain to me what happened?”
Harry looked at the floor and clenched his fists.
“Bodder is ibsabe” said Malfoy. “He threw hibself add be for doe reasob add tried to kill be.”
“Really?” McGonagall looked sternly at Malfoy as if she doubted his innocence. “Potter, explain your attack on Mr. Malfoy.”
Harry stayed stubbornly silent, trying not to look into her eyes. He could not think of any excuse, and indeed, McGonagall probably would not believe any lie he could conjure. He threw himself at Draco and broke his nose. No excuse could get him out of the trouble he was in.
“Potter, I asked you a question!” McGonagall’s voice was sharp as a razor. When Harry remained silent, the professor pursed her lips. “Very well, if you do not want to explain I will not force you to. However, this is hardly the soft of behavior I expect from sixth-year students. What happened today in my class, it is reprehensible and unacceptable behavior! Especially in my absence! The two of you have broken at least five school rules and should be ashamed! Fifty points from each of you! Mr. Malfoy, please go to the hospital wing, and then you will arrange an appointment with Professor Snape for your detention. You are exempt from classes for the rest of the day.”
Malfoy turned around, shooting an angry glance Harry, as if telling him ‘I’m not finish with you yet…’ then left the classroom.
“As for you, Potter,” McGonagall’s voice became a little less severe. “I don’t know what pushed you to such despair as to throw yourself at a student in my class, but regardless of the reason, you behaved shamefully and you’re actions were a disgrace to the House of Gryffindor.”
Throughout her speech, Harry was staring with a steady look at a place on the carpet.
“Now,” the Professor went on, “go to the hospital wing and then report to Mr. Flitch and ask him about your detention. Understand?”
Harry nodded slowly, and turned to leave. Then an idea came to him.
“Professor…” he said quietly. “Can I ask you something?”
McGonagall looked over her glasses. “What?”
“I’d like to quit Potions,” Harry said. “Could you go to Professor Snape and convince him to give me permission to get an exemption from his class?”
McGonagall’s eyebrows furrowed before one arched. “You don’t have Potions until Monday. Until then -- ”
“No!” Harry interrupted her. “I mean, I don’t want to take it anymore, at all. I’d like to replace it with another subject.”
For a moment there was silence.
“I’m not going to ask why you’ve come to this decision, Potter, because I suspect I will not receive an answer. However I want you to realize that if you abandon Potions, you will not be allowed to become an Auror. Are you sure you want to do this?"
Harry nodded, gritting his teeth.
“Are you sure you don’t want to give this a second thought?” There was a hint of hope in McGonagall’s voice.
“No, this is my final decision.”
The Professor wondered for a moment, examining Harry’s eyes, then said quietly, “Very well, I will speak with Professor Snape. You may go.”
***
Harry did not go to the Hospital Wing. He wanted to avoid uncomfortable questions about his mangled hand. He spent the afternoon and the evening in his dormitory, except for when he had to report to Flitch for his detention. Harry was appointed by the janitor to cleaning all the cupboards in the school over the weekend, once his hand had had time to heal a little.
During lunch, Hermione visited him, and told him that Hagrid was asking what had happened and why he failed to show up for meals.
Ron appeared in the evening after dinner, informing him that McGonagall wanted to talk to him.
Harry threw the invisibility cloak on himself and ran for the teacher’s office with his heart pounding.
He hoped that Snape had agreed. After all, he has always hated Harry and wanted to get rid of him. He was probably very pleased that his dream had finally come true.
Harry took off his cloak at the door and knocked. The Head of his House invited him inside and told him to sit down.
“I spoke with Professor Snape,” she began, looking at Harry over her glasses. “He was very indignant at the news that you wanted to quit his class and denies categorically his consent.”
“What?” Harry was speechless. When he looked at McGonagall he saw that she, too, was surprised.
“Well, Potter, I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can do for you. If you wish, you can try and convince him alone. Professor Snape did lead me to understand that he wants to see you and talk about it.”
Harry tensed at the idea of meeting Snape alone.
Never!
He dragged himself back towards the dormitory, trying to sort things out in his head.
Why didn’t Snape let him resign from his class? He always wanted to get rid of him.
He stopped for a moment.
Well, of course. It was so obvious! Next he wanted to harass him in the classroom. Humiliate him even more. And why not?
He'd never be able to see that man face to face. Not ever again. Harry blushed with shame and embarrassment. How, after what happened in class, could he even talk to Snape normally? He would rather let the Weasley twins try their untested merchandise on him than meet with Snape alone.
At just the thought of the meeting Harry felt weak and his heartbeat sped up.
He had to continue attending Potions. He had no other choice. He had go to the class and just deal with it.
CDN
* "Broken" by Lifehouse
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dnia stycznia 09 2011 21:29:17
kurczę, to ma specyficzny klimat po angielsku nigdy nie odda się w innym języku tak do kończa oryginału, ale i tak mi się podoba^^ |
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