When A Slaughterhouse Becomes A Home (selfcest/tomarry)

fifthteen

Potter has been whispering something into Harry's ears. He's like a little devil on Harry's shoulder, judging his actions and guiding him, leading him toward a more and more Dark path. He's still the toxic, degrading man Harry has always known, but he's been more outright about it now at least. "I've a lot to worth through," admits Potter one evening. "I want to die, and I'm taking it out on you. It just isn't fair."

Harry shifts uncomfortably. "You want me to kill myself," he states, and it isn't a question. It is a blatant statement of fact. "So you yourself an die. How can you expect me to ignore that?" He's put all this together from their conversation on the Astronomy Tower, and it's only taken being apart from him to think about it as a whole. It is not only that Tom and Potter are hiding things from him, it's also that they are destroying his mental wellbeing for their own gain.

"Simple," says Potter. "You just don't kill yourself."

Harry wants to disagree, wants to refute this, wants to repeat his earlier statement of I'd rather be alone, thanks, but...

He cannot find it in himself to. He thinks about writing suicide notes and discarding them, as if practicing for the real one, for the time that it'll really matter, and thinks that with or without Potter sticking around, this is how he is. He's edging on suicidal and somewhere between full on depressed and close to it. And the truth is that he needs everyone he can get.

He is still avoiding Ron and Hermione, still pushing them away, and though only now is he regretting that... he thinks that too much time has passed for any remorse to matter. He has no one but Potter, and perhaps Tom -- Tom, who's diary keeps appearing in Harry's bad no matter how many times Harry throws it away. Tom, who is not yet forgiven because he hasn't apologized and Harry has yet to stop needing him to.

Harry takes a deep breath. He remembers he and Potter's shared hug in the common room, and feels a little more at peace with this decision.

"Okay," says Harry. "I forgive you. But be more open with me, okay? Don't hide stuff from me."

Potter smiles a shark like grin. "When it matters," he says, vaguely. "I will be open with you when it matters."

Harry frowns but accepts that this is the best he'll be getting out of someone with the nature of Potter. They hug and Harry feels something warms stir in his gut.

Potter is still whispering in his ear. Harry still cannot make out the words.

But he will.

Harry is assaulted by visions of his godfather being tortured when he is in Umbridge's class.

He is sitting squarely between Ron and Hermione, through no choice of his own -- the two of them plopped down beside him just as class began, giving Harry no time to move. Potter is standing behind him, still invisible to everyone but Harry, giving him notes and tidbits on the lesson. The lesson, of course, is total horseshit. Harry is thoroughly unimpressed with Umbridge's idea of a 'good education' but he's only recently gotten out of detention with her and he's not interested in undoing that.

They are reading chapter twenty and Umbridge answers questions occasionally as well as asks them, and it is then when Harry groans, doubling over, hands pressed to his lighting scar. Images flash him by. The Department of Mysteries; Sirius Black; screaming. It's not a pretty picture.

Hermione and Ron pester him quietly, and Harry tries to keep his moaning to a low. But it obviously it isn't working because Umbridge clears with throat with that obnoxious Hum Hum, and asks, "What is it that your find so important that you would interrupt my class, Mister Potter?"

And Harry does not have the self control to help himself: "Voldemort," he utters.

Umbridge looks like she got slapped in the face. "What did you just say in my classroom, Mister Potter?"

Ron and Hermione look horrified. The pain has subsided now but the urgency hasn't; Harry needs out of here. He stands from his chair and glances at Potter, which makes him pause.

Potter looks particularly alarmed.

He remember thst Umrbidge said something to him. Perhaps it's a little late to back down now, so he says, "Voldemort has kidnapped and tortured Sirius Black."

"... You mean the mass murder who, need I remind you, is dead? Why must you spread such obscenities in my classroom? I must say, this calls for a de--"

"Shut the fuck up," Harry snaps, swinging his book bag over his shoulder. Umbridge gawks at him, appalled. "No more. I'm not taking it."

He walks down the stairs between the ales of desks and stops at the front of the classroom, where Umbridge has also stood from her seat. It feels a bit like a dueling ground, with Potter by his side and Ron and Hermione trailing after him. It seems that through all his efforts to push them away, they still stand beside him.

Harry loves them strongly. He will talk to them after this, and apologize. He is in dire need of real friends.

"No more detentions. No more Blood Quills. No more obscene rules -- I'm tired of it, and of you." Harry stalks forward, toward her, wand gripped at his side. "Do you know what your problem is? You're afraid. You're terrified -- you think that Voldemort being back is so scary that you'd do anything at all to ignore his existence. But let me remind you," and he turns toward the class now, "all of you, that Voldemort is no boogeyman; he will not disappear if you do not believe in him. He's real. He's solid. And he's more dangerous than you ever thought to contend with -- and despite all of this, he is not your childhood monster; he's just a man. A man with life and blood and flesh, begging to be challenged. And I'll do it, you know. I will challenge him. I will kill him, because he can be killed."

He points his wand at Umbridge. "Close your eyes, Dolores Umbridge, and see if he disappears. I dare you."

He speedwalks toward the door, listening to the heavy silence int he classroom, ready to break out of Hogwarts.

But Umbridge.

Umbridge stands in his way.

"I will not allow you to leave my classroom," she declares, even though she appears a little shaken up from his rant.

Ron and Hermione pull out their wands at his side.

Harry cracks his neck. "Okay," he says. "We'll see about that."

They begin to duel. Behind them, Potter smiles.