mhalachai | FIC: Inevitable 50: Overflow

~~My internet connection is going down like the Titanic tonight, so I won't get to respond to comments until tomorrow.~~ I had to tighten a cable connection. I'm a bad geek. I hope you enjoy the chapter! Ron V. Harry, Fight!

Inevitable Fifty: Overflow
by Mhalachai

~~~~~~~

Harry didn't know where he was going. It was late, probably almost time the students needed to be in their dorms. The library wasn't an option, any more than any of the study halls.

I should go find Voldemort, Harry thought, insides writhing with fury. I could rip him apart without even giving a fuck about his soul pieces.

Splashes of water under his feet startled him into glancing around. Without realizing it, he'd made it all the way the second floor hallway outside Moaning Myrtle's toilet. It seemed as if the petulant ghost had once again flooded the hallway.

Harry slowed. Why not? he thought rebelliously. It's late, it's not like anyone's going to be there. And no one will think to look for me there. Carefully, Harry picked his way across the floor and slipped inside the door.

The room was just as dim and dreary as Harry remembered from second year. "Hello?" he said nervously. No one, ghost or human, popped out at him, and he relaxed slightly.

Everything seemed smaller than he remembered it. Even the fake sink that was the hidden entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, seemed so... ordinary.

It's the entrance to Salazar Slytherin's secret lair, and it looks like a broken-down kid's wash basin, Harry thought. I can't believe Slytherin would climb down a gross old pipe to go see his pet basilisk.

Leaving the sink behind, Harry crossed the floor, past the stalls, to the wall with the high-set window. He hoisted himself up onto the stone ledge and let his head fall back against the wall.

Unmoving in the silence, broken only by the slow drip of water from the leaky faucet, Harry couldn't keep back the memory of what he'd done in the common room.

Ron won't say anything, Harry thought uncertainly. Hermione won't let him tell anyone that my mum's dad was a vampire.

Confidence in Hermione aside, an awful thing occurred to Harry. Ginny had been sitting right there. If the feeling in the wizarding world, about vampire children being monsters, was so strong, would Ginny react like Ron? Would she think bad things about Lily? About Harry? That thought felt like a shaft of ice through Harry's heart.

At least he'd still have Hermione, and Dumbledore, on his side. There had been times before, when everyone thought Harry was a lunatic, unstable.

But they thought that about me, not my mum. The anger began to press hot and prickly against Harry's eyeslids, and he had to close his eyes hard.

Even though he knew it was childish, Harry wanted to go back to St. Louis. Everyone there knew who he was; knew Damian. Not everyone was pissed off at him. And Voldemort's not trying to kill everyone there, either.

Eyes still closed, Harry heard a soft splash, as if someone had stepped in a puddle. His wand drawn before he turned his head, Harry looked around the room.

Even though the light was dim, Harry couldn't see a soul, but the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Someone was here.

Silently, Harry slid to the floor, wand at his side. Scarcely breathing as he faced the room, he tried to decide if he should wait for whoever it was to make the first move, or to go on the offensive.

The air by the sinks shimmered. Harry's wand was up and aimed before the folds of the invisibility cloak moved to reveal Ron's head. He glared at Harry. "What's the idea?"

Harry kept his wand up. "Going through my stuff now?" he demanded angrily. "What else did you take? Book or two? I'm sure I've got some Chocolate Frog cards you don't have yet."

"Shut up!" Ron shouted. He yanked off the invisibility cloak and draped it over a sink. "It was the only way I could come find you!"

Harry stared at him for a moment, then put his wand to his side. "Why did you need to do that? Couldn't wait until I got back to have another go at my mum?"

"I wasn't having a go at your mum! What are you playing at? If you makes jokes about this, someone's going to hear--"

"Shut up," Harry ordered. "This isn't--" He stopped himself, tried to take a deep breath to calm himself. "Just go away, Ron, before I do something Hermione's not going to forgive."

Ran gaped at him. "You can't be serious!" he said, horrified. "Your mum's father was a vampire?"

"What does it matter?" Harry demanded. "Does this suddenly make me a danger? Am I going to start slaughtering you lot in the night?" He sauntered closer to Ron. "What, are we vampire children dangerous? Bloody-thirsty animals? Like werewolves or giants?"

Ron's face flushed a deep red, and Harry knew he'd hit home. When Ron had found out Remus Lupin was a werewolf, in third year, he had reacted badly. The same thing had happened when they learned Hagrid was half-giant. Sure, Ron had gotten over it, but suddenly being on the receiving end of Ron's attitude was fueling Harry's rage.

"Maybe I shouldn't be at the school at all, is that what you think? Take myself and my unpure blood away? Is that it? God, Ron, you're like Draco fucking Malfoy talking about Hermione!"

"Don't talk about Hermione!" Ron shouted, getting in Harry's face. He was a head taller than Harry and much broader across the shoulders, but Harry was too furious to be intimated.

Harry's lip curled up into a smirk. "Why not? Are you afraid she'll agree with me?" He wasn't thinking any longer, just reacting. "Or maybe it's because of the same reason you don't want me talking to Ginny--"

Ron's fist lashed out before Harry could finish. Harry tried to duck, but the punch hit him hard on the side of the mouth. The pain roared into fury, and Harry tackled Ron, driving them both onto the flooded floor.

Ron rolled them over, trying to pull back to hit Harry again, but Harry wouldn't let him up, wrapping an arm around Ron's neck and putting him into a headlock.

As the cold water soaked into his robes, along with the ridiculousness of the situation, Harry stopped fighting. Gradually, Ron stopped struggling. The sound of their ragged breathing was the only sound in the room.

Sick of it all, Harry let Ron out of the headlock, and rolled to his feet. Ron lay on the floor, soaking wet, with a large bruise developing on his cheek.

Harry shoved his wet hair back with both hands. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded. "This isn't about Hermione or Ginny, you were like this on the fucking train!"

Ron staggered to his feet, favoring one leg. "You weren't here this summer, were you? You went away!"

Harry just stared at him through water-specked glasses.

"Don't you get it?" Ron said. He tried to pull his wet robes back into place. "Of course you don't, why would you?"

Harry ran his tongue over the corner of his mouth, winching at the pain and at the taste of warm coppery blood. "You know, Ron," he began conversationally, "You've gone completely mental. Why don't you just go away, and we'll have this conversation when you come to your senses, like in July."

Ron whirled around and kicked at a stall door. The splintering noise was like a shot in the room. "Do you know how many people died the last time this happened?" he demanded.

Briefly, Harry wished Hermione was there. She at least could usually translate what Ron was talking about. "The last time what happened?" he said wearily. "Is this about Voldemort?" Ron shrugged, which gave Harry his answer. "No, Ron, I have no idea about losing people to Voldemort. Why don't you tell me about that, will you?"

The sarcasm in Harry's voice cut through the air. Ron shook his head, lips pressed together so hard they were white. "Both my uncles died!" he said hotly. "And loads of others, too! Your parents, what happened to Neville's parents--"

"And now Voldemort's back, and he's been trying to kill me every bloody year since I was eleven!" Harry shouted. "Don't talk to me about Voldemort! He wants me dead, me! You're not even on his list!"

"This isn't about me!" Ron shouted over Harry. His eyes were open wide, and it took Harry a moment to realize what was barely hidden in Ron's eyes. Fear.

"I wasn't aware you cared that much about me, Ron," Harry said, righteous anger faltering. Ron was never afraid, not like that. Ron was one of the bravest people he knew.

"It's about Hermione."

Harry blinked. "What do you mean, Hermione?" Worry bubbled up in his chest, over the anger. "Did someone threaten Hermione? Is she okay?"

Ron pulled out his wand and dried his robes. "You know how she is! Just goes flinging herself into danger." He clenched his jaw, not looking at Harry. "Plus, she's muggle-born. She'll be one of the first they come for, if..."

"So you're worried about Hermione," Harry said dully. He was totally lost. What had happened between Ron and Hermione while he was out of the country?

Ron leaned against the wall, staring very intently at a spot on the wall. "I want to ask her to marry me," he said miserably.

"What?" Harry asked without thinking. "You didn't tell her that, did you?"

Ron buried his head in his hands. "Never mind," he said, embarrassed.

"No, not 'never mind,'" Harry said hotly. "Ron, you're seventeen! You can't get married!"

"Well, why not? My parents got married just out of Hogwarts, so did yours!" he said defensively.

"But none of them was Hermione!" Harry tried, and failed, to find words to explain to Ron. "You love her, right? Does she know that, at least?"

"Yeah," Ron muttered.

"So why get married?" Why change things, Harry wanted to scream, but he held his tongue on that.

Ron shrugged again.

Feeling a bit like as if he was reading a book, and he'd skipped a few chapters, Harry said carefully, "You don't need to be married."

"I know that," Ron said crossly. "It's not like we waited or anything, but it's just that I want everyone to know."

"Waited for what?" Harry asked. The instant the words left his lips, he felt his cheeks go red. Oh. That.

Ron gave him a look. "Don't tell her I told you, okay?" he said.

"No problem," Harry said, voice strangled. He really hadn't needed to know that, especially about his best friend, or about Hermione.

"Good," Ron said, ignorant of the uncomfortable turn Harry's imagination was taking. "I just... I don't want to lose her."

Harry shook his head firmly. "Hermione's the smartest witch ever," he said forcefully. "She's a lot smarter than the two of us. She knows how to fight, to defend herself." Making a decision, Harry crossed the floor and grabbed Ron's arms, made his friend look at him. "Besides, we're both stupid enough to jump into the fray in front of her."

Ron swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. He didn't say anything until Harry let go of his arms and stepped away. "She told me I was being stupid," he muttered. "About your mum."

Harry sighed. So they were back on this. Great. "Yeah, well, you are."

"What else am I supposed to think?" Ron demanded. "It's dangerous! Having vampire blood, it almost always goes bad."

"Have you ever heard your parents say my mum was dangerous?" Harry demanded. He tried to whip up some anger at Ron, but his mouth still hurt and he was just so tired. "I met him, my grandfather! So did Dumbledore, and he said it was okay."

"Dumbledore knows?" Ron appeared flummoxed. "And you met this vampire? How?"

"It was over the summer," Harry said. "He's in St. Louis with Anita and all them. His name is Damian."

Ron stared at Harry. "Are you sure it's not a trick? Maybe something Voldemort--"

"It's not a trick." Harry withdrew his wand from his sleeve and flicked the water off his robes. "He's got my mum's eyes and hair. Don't you think Dumbledore would have thought the same thing? And he never said anything."

"That doesn't make any sense," Ron pressed.

Harry flung his hands in the air. "What do you want me to say? I meet the only family member I have who doesn't detest the very sight of me, and you can't stand it? Damn it, Ron, this is my life!"

"But the stories--"

"Stories?" Harry paced across the room, wishing in the back of his head that he could just start running, run far and fast and leave all this behind. "How about the stories where Parselmouths are evil wizards? How about necromancers? Being born a certain way doesn't make you evil, it just means you're a little different."

"Being a necromancer isn't a little different," Ron scoffed.

Harry thought about what Anita told him of her childhood; about how Bellatrix tortured her; about everything she did and how she tried to protect everyone. "How is raising the dead from the grave any different from turning a writing desk into a pig?" Harry asked. "It's not like Anita deals in souls, not like she split her soul into little pieces so no one can kill her."

He closed his mouth with a snap. Ron was looking at him, horrified.

"Who's split their soul into pieces?" Ron asked in a quiet voice. When Harry didn't answer, he inched closer. "Was it... was it You-Know-Who?"

It was easy to forget that Ron was quick, under his usual appearance of being clueless. So much more so when Harry was mad at him. "We shouldn't talk about this here," he said.

Ron put his hand over his mouth. "That's..."

"Ron."

Ron swallowed. "Yeah. Sorry."

"We should go," Harry said. "Someone's bound to have heard us."

"Right." Ron picked up the invisibility cloak. "It's past curfew, if we get caught..."

Harry was still angry enough at Ron to take his chances. "We're not all right, Ron," he said. "This isn't... You can't be mad at me because of who I am."

"What, like you've been a saint for the last few days?" Ron said hotly. "Kissing strange women, not telling us anything, showing off for the girls, especially Ginny--"

"Oh, yes, Ron, let's talk about Ginny," Harry snapped. "First off, I'm not doing anything to Ginny, and second off, if I step a foot out of line, she'll hex me out the window!"

"Will she?" Ron tossed the cloak over his shoulders, leaving only his head visible. "She's had that bloody crush on you since her first year and you saved her life, she might not act rationally around you!"

Harry made himself count to ten, then to twenty. "I will never do anything to hurt Ginny," he said quietly, once he could guarantee he wouldn't start hitting Ron again. "She doesn't like me anymore, not like that, so don't worry. Now can we just go before we both get detention?"

Ron glared, then held open the side of the cloak. Instead of the offer of invisibility, Harry tapped his wand on the top of his head and said the incantation for the Disillusionment charm. The spell flowed over him, cold trickles running shivering down his body.

"Someone's going to see you," Ron said stiffly, flipping the hood of the cloak up over his head.

"It's dark."

In uncomfortable silence, they left the girls washroom. Harry thought he heard Filch once or twice, and they had to hide behind a statue to avoid Professor Sprout, but they got back to the Gryffindor tower without attacking any attention.

"Wolfsbane," Ron said to the Fat Lady's portrait.

The picture put her hands on her hips. "I'm not going to open up until I see who's there!" she said. "What kind of security do you think we have here?"

Harry sighed, and removed the Disillusionment charm with a tap of his wand. Ron flipped up the cloak's hood to show his face.

The Fat Lady gave them a disapproving look. "As you will." She swung the portrait open, and they climbed into the room.

It was later than Harry had thought. The room was empty except for Ginny and Hermione, and a couple of fifth years playing Exploding Snap on the far side of the room.

Hermione jumped up when she saw them, her hands clapped over her mouth. She waited until they were closer before she hissed, "Were you fighting?"

"Something like that," Ron muttered. He jumped back as she smacked him on the arm.

"What were you thinking?"

"It's not about thinking," Ginny said, closing her potions book. "It's just about being angry."

"Angry? Us?" Harry said sarcastically.

"Don't snap at me," Ginny said, popping out of her chair. She picked something up off the table and brought it over to Harry. He looked down to see his mother's picture in her hand. "Why didn't you tell us?"

He looked into her eyes, to see if she shared any of Ron's revulsion. There was something warm in her eyes, that eased the tight knot of tension in his chest. "I don't know," he mumbled.

Hermione shook her head. "You're both so stupid!"

Since Harry had said something similar within the last hour, he couldn't argue with her. "Are you mad at me too?"

"Of course not!" she snapped. "But you could have told us!"

Harry turned the picture of Lily over in his hand, so Hermione could see it. "I did."

"But not like this!"

Harry sighed, and plopped onto the sofa. Behind him, he heard Ron mutter something about bed, then footsteps moved away.

"I'm going to bed as well," Ginny said, shouldering her book bag. "I'll see you tomorrow, Harry."

Harry looked up. Her long red hair was loose around her face, brown eyes warm with concern and something Harry couldn't identify. Licking his suddenly dry lips, Harry made himself smile at her, then winced as his split lip pulled painfully.

"Good night," Ginny said, sounding as if she was trying not to laugh.

Hermione settled onto the couch next to Harry, staring at the fire. Harry tried to get comfortable, but a sore spot on his hip from his tousle with Ron made that nearly impossible.

They sat like that until the two fifth years wrapped up their card game and headed up the stairs. Into the silence, Hermione said, "Why do you two do this?"

"Do what?" Harry toed off his shoes and curled up into a ball on the sofa. "Fight?"

"Act like boys," Hermione said crossly.

"Because we are?" Harry said, just as unhappily.

"But you're supposed to have grown out of that!" Hermione frowned deeply. "This was supposed to get easier, not harder."

Harry sighed. "Hermione, pretend for half a minute that I can't read minds, and tell me what you're talking about," he pleaded.

"Growing up!" she said as she pulled her feet up onto the cushions and rested her chin on her knees.

"Growing up's just getting older," Harry said. He laid Lily's picture on the edge of the cushions. "It never gets easy. Just more complicated."

"It's not supposed to be this way," Hermione said faintly.

Harry looked at her as she gazed into the dying flames. He should really tell her about the Horcruxes; maybe she'd have some kind of idea he'd missed. He'd opened his mouth and was about to speak, when some fragment of Ron's angry words came back to him.

Was Hermione in more danger than him or Ron? Would the Death Eaters want to kill her more than Ron? She was the proof that all their pure-blooded crap was wrong. Was that the danger?

Hermione caught him staring at her. "Is everything all right?" she asked. "Are you and Ron still fighting?"

He forced a smile. "We dealt with most of it. Promise."

She didn't look as if she quite believed him. "You better. I don't know if I can deal with the two of you being like this any longer." She scooted over on the couch and surprised Harry by giving him a hug. "I have enough to worry about."

The feel of her arms, warm around his back, startled him badly. It wasn't until that very moment that he realized how cold everything was at Hogwarts. No warm hugs, no friendly slaps on the back or lying against someone as warm as he was.

That's what Reece meant about it all being too cold, Harry thought. He hugged Hermione carefully, his hands smoothing down her robes chastely, his cheek against her hair.

She gave him a squeeze then pulled back; Harry let her go immediately. With a smile, Hermione said, "I'll see you tomorrow morning. And don't sleep in, we have Defence Against the Dark Arts after breakfast."

"What, and deprive Snape of the chance to eviscerate me in front of the whole class?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Good night."

" 'Night," Harry said as she left. Only when she was gone, and he was alone in the room, did he let out a shaky breath.

Nothing like almost groping your best friend's girlfriend, not an hour after he told you he's in love with her! Harry thought angrily. What the hell is wrong with me?

Pushing himself roughly off the sofa, Harry scooped up his mother's picture and stomped toward the stairs. He hoped with all his heart that he was too tired to talk in his sleep. Otherwise, Ron might find yet another reason to kill him before morning.

... to be continued

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

From:

sorceress-death.livejournal.com

*squeal* First an update from winterd, and then (half a minute later) an update from you, I so like this night! ^^

Hmm, this ficcie just keeps getting more interesting. At least Ron and Harry don't seem to be fighting as bad now. Hopefully, one of the main things I like is when he's in a sarcastic mood. ^^ Luvs it much.

From:

mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com

I'm glad you're having fun... I had to call tech support and they are like, "Check to make sure the cable's all screwed in." It wasn't. Le sigh.

They've dealt with the immediate problem. There are some underlying issues that have not been dealt with. All in time. I hope.

mhalachai was here

FIC: Inevitable 50: Overflow

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