A/N: Heya all, this is the next chapter of Denarian Knight, well long overdue. Christmas, New Years and then just general stuffing around delayed it somewhat. This chapter is half getting the Sirius issue out of the way and half trying to explain Harry's beliefs. We know he's an arsehole, yeah, but this is more at why he's an arsehole.
From the moment Harry had informed Dumbledore what he had seen, it had been a whirlwind of fast-paced movement, hysterical talking and a few snappish comments as Harry was carted away from Hogwarts (Dumbledore feeling the need to remove the ones that kept Harry restricted to the castle).
As night passed into early morning, Harry found himself sitting at the kitchen table of one of the gloomiest houses he had ever seen the next morning, poking at a bowl of dried cereal with disinterest. From what he had seen, the place could have easily passed as a haunted house in any amusement park in the world, with its ominous atmosphere, large, dusty rooms and the row of distorted heads (which, Harry had to admit, was also kinda cool). But the novelty of the house wore of soon.
Harry poked at his food again and frowned. Apparently it was the Weasley Mum was the one who did most of the cooking around the dump, but she had carted herself and her flock of brats off to the wizard hospital to see the fool of a husband/father who had gotten bitten by a snake.
'So this is the headquarters of the Order of Phoenix,' Meciel mused within his head, and Harry felt her taking a detailed analysis of everything he saw for future reference. 'I will admit, it is not what I expected.'
“The heads were cool,” Harry said, taking a spoonful of cereal and shoving it into his mouth. His face scrunched up in disgust and he dropped his spoon with a loud clatter. Despite Meciel's manipulations to his taste buds, the mere feel of the probably six-month-old cereal was enough to make him lose his appetite.
'If you're into that sort of thing,' Meciel murmured, just as footsteps could be heard from the hallway outside.
Harry looked up as the door opened, his bored expression never changing as a tall, gangly man, who looked as if he had been half-starved at one point, walked in. His eyes, hollow and dull, met Harry's and a wide smile broke over his face. The smile was a little unnerving, even to Harry, and it looked as if the man was slightly unhinged. After a few moments, the man ran a hand through his long, shaggy dark hair and visibly calmed himself down.
“Hello Harry,” the man said quietly. He was fidgeting on his feet as Harry inspected him, absently noting that the man's wand was tucked into his left pocket and the robes he was wearing was absent of any bumps that might signify weapons.
“Hi,” Harry said in a bored tone, quite disinterested in getting to know anybody here. As much as he hated being at Hogwarts, the beds there were just great and he was missing his at these early hours of the morning.
“I…um…was a friend of James and Lily,” the man said, his face scrunching up into a reflexive wince and sadness passing through his hollow eyes.
“Who?” Harry asked and the man gaped at him, looking dumbstruck.
“Your parents, Lily and James Potter,” he repeated slowly, eying Harry strangely. “Don't tell me you've never heard of them.”
“Oh, that Lily and James,” Harry said with dawning comprehension. He gave a snort and eyed the man derisively. “Do I look like I care who you are? Go away and leave me to this crap you call breakfast.” He pushed at the food with his spoon and sighed. “I just saved a man's life- you think the fuckheads could give me something a little better.”
“You're a nasty little shit, aren't you?” The man responded cheerfully, his mood swinging from cautiousness to humour far quicker than what should be normal. He pulled out one of the chairs out and sitting down at the table with him.
“I try,” Harry said dryly, his irritation flaring as the man placed his feet on the table with a loud thump. He narrowed his eyes and sighed. “Tell me who you are and give me three good reasons why I shouldn't turn you into frog.”
“My name is Sirius Black,” the man said, chuckling wryly and not looking at all disturbed by Harry's threat. “And from what I've heard, your transfiguration skills are a little lacking for that.”
“Exactly,” Harry muttered sourly. “That means that when I try to turn you into a frog, you could end up as half-ooze and- wait, Black!”
“Heard of me?” Sirius asked, blinking a little at Harry's sudden exclamation and the vehement expression that appeared on the younger boys face.
“Yeah, I've heard of you,” Harry said frostily and he pushed his cereal away from him. “You're the little son of a bitch that took the credit away from me when I attacked the Leaky Cauldron. You fucked up a perfectly good plan, you know.”
“I can't help it what the Daily Prophet says about me,” Sirius protested, eying Harry with a roguish grin. “Dumbledore told me that you had a hand in that, although he kept it quiet from everybody else. I'll warn you now; Tonks didn't take her defeat to well, so watch out for her.”
'One of the Aurors
“Yeah, it'll take more than an Auror to take me down,” Harry muttered then paused. His head shot up at Sirius and he was frowning, as if he were trying to place something. “Hang on, didn't you kill a whole bunch of people.” He paused. “Not that I care or anything.”
“That's what they said when they sent me to Azkaban,” Sirius said and a bleak shadow passed over his face, making him appear much more frail and weak than usual. His eyes went distant for a few seconds, before he growled and shook his head, his good move vanishing as quickly as it had come. “But I didn't do it.”
“Sure you didn't,” Harry said slowly, and he gave Sirius a cheeky wink. His face sobered a moment later and he looked annoyed once again. “Okay, this was a nice chat. If you could just leave…”
“Hey, it's my house,” Sirius said defensively.
“You make it sound like that's a good thing,” Harry snorted, gesturing to the shabby walls
Sirius scowled angrily, but blinked and rubbed his eyes. He paused and then seemed to remember why he was there. He opened his mouth, paused, closed it, and then opened it again.
“Look, Harry,” he started, looking as if he were struggling to speak. “I was…I was a very good friend of your parents…and they asked me to look after you if anything were to happen to them. Now, I'm not saying that you drop what you've got, but if you're interested in learning about your parents or….any of that stuff, I want you to know that you…you can come to me, alright?”
“For the record, I'm not interested in 'any of that stuff',” Harry said dryly, not moved at Sirius' heartfelt speech at all. He paused and regarded Sirius speculatively. “I am interested in learning how you escaped Azkaban though. That place would even give me a bit of trouble, although it did take you twelve years- not your best work, really.”
“I'm an animagus,” Sirius said proudly and for a moment he looked a decade younger, a wild and daring look coming into his eyes.
'Animagus- a wizard who can change into an animal,' Meciel explained quietly.
'Thanks for telling me something I already knew,' Harry muttered.
“I became one with your father, actually,” the gangly man continued, a wistful smile on his face. “I was a dog- he a stag. I slipped past the Dementors when they came to feed me- they don't have real eyes, you see.”
“It took you twelves years to turn into a dog?” Harry asked sceptically. He rolled his eyes and idly scratched his head.
“You know, I could teach you,” Sirius offered hesitantly, ignoring Harry's barb and looking a mite awkward. “If you wanted to learn.”
'I doubt you could,' Meciel said. 'My presence here has tainted a few of your natural wand-magic abilities. That said, I don't think you were ever capable of an animagus transformation to begin with.'
Harry took this in at the same time he snorted in amusement. A vision flashed through his eyes- a tiny little poodle being squashed by a demonic bone-wrym- and he shook his head in amusement.
“What's so funny?” Sirius suddenly demanded, his face flickering with annoyance and his eyes narrowing. He folded his arms over his chest.
“You wouldn't understand,” Harry dismissed easily, a smile still tugging at his lips.
“Try me,” Sirius said flatly, and Harry blinked at the man's sudden change of mood. He was looking dangerous now, radiating an air of madness that almost made Harry believe he was capable of mass-murder. Harry wasn't impressed, considering that he had killed more people than he could remember over the last eight years.
“I know all about you,” Sirius said and smiled thinly. “We've met before. Remember me?”
Suddenly, the tall, skinny wizard was gone, replaced with a large dog with shaggy black fur and glinting yellow eyes. Harry narrowed his eyes, his mind racing furiously as he tried to recall where he had seen the dog before. In the end, it was Meciel who prodded him in the right direction as Sirius changed back into a human.
“The office,” Harry breathed and his eyes were wide with surprise. He eyed the man carefully, his wand not to far away from his hand. “Last year.”
“Yeah,” Sirius said flatly, displeasure flickering over his face. “Remember when you inadvertently attacked Dumbledore with dark magic?”
“Inadvertently my arse,” Harry mumbled. His raised his head and leaned back in his chair, watching Sirius closely. “What do you know?”
“Dumbledore told me everything,” Sirius said quietly. “I know all about Mecial..”
“Meciel,” Harry corrected absently. “And? What do you think about it?”
“And…” Sirius said and paused. His eyes were conflicted, several different emotions battling for supremacy, but in the end, it was a solemn and serious look that won. “I don't care about, Harry, as long as you're happy.”
“Bullshit,” Harry snorted, easily seeing through the man's lies.
Sirius sighed.
“Alright,” he conceded. He leaned forward and the next words came out as if he had wanted to get them off his chest for a very long time.” I care a little. I mean, Harry, it's your soul for God's sake!”
“God has no place near my soul,” Harry deadpanned and grinned when Sirius rolled his eyes.
“It's something you need!” He said urgently. He slammed his hands down on the table. “Dammit, Harry, you need your soul!”
“I'm not using it,” Harry said carelessly with a shrug. “So she can keep it for all I care.”
“Look, I don't know about religion and all that, “Sirius said, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself down. “But won't you go to hell?”
“Probably,” Harry answered easily, not looking at all upset. “But only if I die- and I'm not planning on dieing. Ever. Besides, I've got the sword- it's got to be some kind of leeway or something.”
“Yeah, I heard you were one of these knights,” Sirius said and scratched his head, the frustration draining from him as quickly as it had come. Harry frowned at the sudden mood swings- clearly Azkaban had loosened something that was probably meant to be screwed shut. “What does that mean for you?
“Huh?” Harry asked, looking puzzled.
“Well, you've got the…” Sirius said slowly and paused, struggling to recall the name. “What do you call it, that coin…?”
“Denarius, “Harry offered amusedly. “It's a blackened denarius.”
“So you've lost your soul but now you've got the sword,” Sirius summed up, frowning in thought. “Does that mean God…or whatever…is looking after you or something?”
“How the hell would I know?” snapped Harry, a touch angry. “I haven't spoken to the prick in years. I'll tell you though, Meciel thinks God is trying a redemption trick on me- yeah, like that's going to work.”
“A redemption trick?” Sirius repeated slowly, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“Yeah,” Harry spat out. The idea still annoyed him- almost a decade after he had followed through with his rejection and God might still be trying to get him to jump back to His side of the fence again.
“I see what you think of that,” Sirius noted carefully.
“Look, I don't care,” Harry grumbled in annoyance. Irritation flowed through him and a small part of him was just itching to raise his wand and smite Sirius back to the damp, dark hole he had came from. “The sword is a useful weapon. It lets me do some pretty cool shit when it's not hauling my arse around trying to get me to save people- and it hasn't done that in a while. If I ever get sick of it, I know how to destroy it.”
Sirius sat there in silence for a few moments while Harry pulled his cereal back towards him and took a mouthful, his face set in a perpetual scowl. After a few more moments, Sirius, with a contemplative expression, spoke up.”
“If it came down to it,” Sirius started and paused, frowning. “Harry, what would you choose? The sword or…” Here he tapped the side of his head meaningfully.
“What do you think?” Harry said coldly, his lip curled derisively. “Azkaban dented a few holes in that little brain of yours. Didn't it?”
“Look Harry, your parents made me your Godfather…”
“Godfather?” Harry exclaimed, a flash of real surprise flooding through him.
“Godfather, yes,” Sirius repeated. He was talking in animated tones, looking far twitchier than before as he wrung his hands nervously in front of him. “I was meant to look after you if anything happened to them….
“Good job,” Harry muttered in a low voice.
“…But, Merlin,” Sirius continued, sighing and looking wearied. “You're making it hard, Harry.”
“Why would I need you to look after me?” Harry scoffed and grinned arrogantly. He held up his wand and gave it a lazy flick. “I've gone up against Voldemort twice now, kicked his arse the first time and didn't even get hurt the second. I don't need you to look after me.”
“Lily and James…” Sirius began.
A flash of pure anger shot through Harry and he was barely aware when sulphur began to cloud in his nose as he reflexively grasped Hellfire. His eyes glinted and he slammed his hand down on the table, a loud thump that shut Sirius up. He leant forward with malice in his voice.
“Fuck Lily and James,” he hissed coldly, the warm buzzing sensation of Hellfire causing blissful sensation of power to burn through him. “I am sick of hearing about them.”
Sirius gaped and Harry saw anger in the other man's eyes. He smiled in satisfaction and pressed on unrelentingly, his voice remaining even and cold.
“I don't know my parents. I've never known them and frankly, I don't care to know them,'” Harry said softly, but not sadly. He leaned back in his chair, keeping his eyes on Sirius, whose face was swirling with emotions. “They're dead, Black. Memories are nice and all for sappy morons but not for me. I don't need them and I never have. I have Meciel now, and she's ten times greater than they could have ever been.”
“How dare you!” roared Sirius, his eyes ablaze with rage. He jumped to his feet, looming over Harry as if he were going to strike him, but the Denarian just smiled insolently. “How dare you insult their memory like that? They brought you into this world!”
“And the taxi brought me to the airport,” Harry replied flatly, not looking impressed with Sirius' temper-tantrum. “But the poor Indian driver isn't the person flying the plane, is he?”
Sirius' face was flushed with indignant anger.
“So you would choose that demon bitch over your own parents?” Sirius snarled, and Harry's lazy smile disappeared. “That is sick, Harry!”
“Watch your mouth, Black,” Harry spat out, his eyes frosty. “I am exceptionally good at killing things.”
“Your parents loved you!” Sirius ranted, pacing the kitchen with a furious expression on his face. “They cared for you!”
“Meciel loves me,” Harry said, restraining the temptation to turn the man into a small pile of steaming ooze with some degree of success. Perhaps Umbridge had been teaching him a few things after all.
“She's a demon!” Sirius snapped, waving it off dismissively.
“She still loves me,” Harry said frankly, and was pleased when it seemed his calm manner was better at fuelling Black's temper than anything else.
Certainly, Sirius seemed to rage for a few more moments, but he stopped and paused, taking deep breaths and staring at Harry with a heartbroken expression. His next words were delivered quietly, almost too quietly for Harry to hear properly.
“Is that enough for you then?”
“More than enough,” Harry answered crisply. He scratched his head and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Now unless you have an argument that doesn't boil down to love, I suggest you piss off. I'm trying to eat here”
“Your parents would have raised you,” he said after a moment's pause, and he seemed to be desperately struggling to hold ground.
“Meciel raised me, “Harry said, peering up at Sirius and grinning when a red flush began to cover the man's sickly, pale features.
“They…they would have taught you,” Sirius continued, his hands wringing together as if he didn't know whether to cry or wring Harry's neck. “Important things, about….stuff…”
“Meciel has taught me more than anything my parents could have, “Harry responded lazily, absently twirling his spoon in his hand and feeling quite bored.
“So it's like that,” Sirius said harshly. He stopped pacing and loomed over Harry's seated form, desperation giving way to twelve-years of repressed anger.
“Yeah, it's like that,” Harry agreed and gave Sirius withering look, assessing the man and finding him lacking. “Your problem, you worm-infested neutered stray, is that you don't want to care about me because you love me. You want to care about me because you loved my parents.”
“That's not true,” Sirius shouted angrily.
“…and now you're a liar,” Harry added and shook his head in mock-disappointment. “You don't have a lot going for you, do you?”
Sirius twitched, flexing his fingers madly, but he seemed more hurt than angry.
“I loved you the moment your dad let me hold you…” he began.
“And now we're back to my parents again,” Harry interrupted callously.
“What does it matter?” Sirius suddenly roared, his face flushed with anger. “I love you regardless!”
The kitchen was suddenly silent; the only sound being Sirius' harsh breathing and Harry's incessant tapping of the spoon on the table. He had stopped twirling it in his hand and was regarding Sirius was disgust and contempt. Some part of him- a very small part but still a part- was stung by the other man's admission.
“It matters to me,” Harry said coldly after a moment's beat. “But, hey, what do I care? Meciel's all I want and all I need.”
“You sound like a lapdog,” Sirius said, but the anger had drained out of him and he looked very tired and sick. He pulled out a chair and sat back down at the table. “You're not going to get very far in life thinking like that.”
“You don't comprehend- nobody comprehends what she gives me,” Harry said with a sudden burst of anger. “I have skills and powers that far outweigh most of this puny Order. I'll be the first to admit, Dumbledore is better than I am, Voldemort too, but it won't stay that way forever. One day, I'll be the most powerful wizard in the world.”
Sirius was shaking his head in disgust.
“This isn't boasting, Black, this is cold, hard truth,” Harry snapped, Hellfire threatening to send him into a temper. He stopped, took a deep breath, and calmed himself down. His next words were softer, but no less harsh. “So do yourself a favour. Stay on my good side.”
“There's more to life than power,” Sirius said quietly, staring at Harry with haunted eyes.
“Like what?” Harry asked witheringly
“Friends,” Sirius responded quietly, but passionately. “Friends you would fight and die for, family to hold onto, and the decency to do what is right! Any of them!”
“Says the weak,” Harry said and Sirius shook his head. Harry sighed, irritated and annoyed but feeling compelled to elaborate. “I'll admit, I once believe in all that crap, Black. But I found out soon that the world doesn't work that way for everybody. I didn't have any friends that would fight for me; they all cowered away when somebody tried to hurt me.” Dudley Dursley's face popped in his mind and Harry winced, trying to suppress hurts long past.
“Harry…” Sirius began.
“I didn't have a family that loved me, or even liked me,” Harry continued, ignoring Sirius, and his voice rose and rose with every word. “Hell, whenever I tried to do the right thing I got spat on! Whenever I tried to make myself happy, all I got was pain! That's when I found out, Sirius, that the world doesn't care about that sort of crap. The world runs on one thing- well, two things, but oil is pertinent to this conversation. The world runs on power. To be happy, you need to have power.”
“It sounds like the Dursley's weren't the nicest people,” Sirius said softly, looking at Harry with sympathy and pity- something that made Harry twitch with anger. “But not everybody's like that.”
“Oh, but they are,” Harry said and stared into Sirius' eyes. “Do you want to hear a little theory I have? It's sort of a joint work of philosophy by Meciel and me about human nature.” At Sirius nod, he continued. “I think that God made it so that all humans are born evil, right from the get go, and they spend the rest of their lives striving to suppress that evil.
“God made babies evil,” Sirius repeated slowly.
“Yeah,” Harry said, feeling pleased and nodding his head. “It could be because He has a twisted sense of humour or because He likes it when we struggle to be good people.”
“Is that why you shacked up with her?” Sirius questioned carefully, gesturing to his head and nodding in Harry's direction. “Because you hate….God?”
“I don't hate God,” Harry said with a snort. “Meciel hates God, sure, but hell; He threw her out of paradise and into eternal darkness. She's got a grudge against him. Personally, I believe that God doesn't give a two-bit fuck about me, or anybody else, and the feeling is reciprocated. Besides, He promotes weakness- all that crap that you were talking about- and I despise weakness.”
“Of all the wizards who hold onto those, I would hardly say that Dumbledore is weak,” Sirius said, a hint of triumph in his eyes.
“Yes, you're right,” Harry said slowly and gave Sirius a thin smile. “So, where's his family?”
Sirius blinked.
“What?” He asked in confusion.
“Where's his family?” Harry repeated. “Where's his wife, or husband, if he swings that way? Where are his children? Where are his friends? Sure, I've seen a lot of acquaintances, maybe, but not anything like you're describing.”
Sirius stared at Harry, completely dumbfounded.
“He fights for what's right…” he began weakly.
“Does he?” Harry asked seriously. He shook his head wryly. “Do you know the exact reason why Dumbledore stands up to Voldemort? It could be for a number of reasons, Voldemort hates Dumbledore- that might make it self defence. Dumbledore might not want to lose power…”
“You sound like a Death Eater,” Sirius spat in disgust. “You sound like Voldemort. You know Dumbledore is not like that.”
“Don't be too trusting in your little leader,” Harry warned, throwing the spoon to the table with a loud clatter and folding his arms over his chest. “He made a choice once, a choice between family, friends and all that crap, and power. Guess what he chose?”
Sirius was silent.
“He chose power, Black,” Harry said softly, his voice taking on a seductive edge. “He chose raw, surging power and he crushed his enemies with it. I don't know what the price was for it but I'm sure he has no regrets.”
The kitchen was silent once again, Harry smiling triumphantly and Sirius' face completely blank. When the fugitive spoke again, his voice was flat and lacked any form of emotion.
“Go away, Harry,” he said softly. “Just…go away.”
“With pleasure, “Harry said and rose to his feet.
He turned to leave and was at the door when Sirius spoke up, his voice a mixture between disgust and sadness.
“You're a disgrace to your parents.”
Harry paused at the door, not even looking back as he responded.
“Somebody like Amanda might protest that she's not,” Harry said slowly. “Somebody like you might rage against that statement. Somebody like me, Black, doesn't care.”
“Frendo!” Harry snarled, his wand flicking expertly in the complex movements of the spell.
A blinding flash of sapphire light blasted from his wand and reduced a dusty armchair into a smouldering pile of ash. Harry glared at pile, almost as if it were its fault for the fury he was feeling, and he raised his wand again, ready to blast the ash into something smaller and a hell of a lot less distinguishable.
“You seem agitated,” Meciel noted calmly, her illusion dressed in prim silver and white robes.
She stood in a gloomy corner, watching Harry tear the large unused bedroom apart without any real concern. Apart from the armchair, an old, dusty bookshelf and half a queen-sized had already fallen victim to Harry's frustration, rendering them into smoking piles of charred debris.
“Wow, you're quick,” Harry snapped sharply, but he lowered his wand and sighed. The anger burning brightly in his veins was dimming and a sudden tiredness was overtaking him. He felt drained.
“You know, without the extraordinary magical skills you possess or my influences, your temper tantrum here would have been nothing more than kicking a few chairs and whining about how your life isn't fair,” Meciel observed lightly.
“I doubt I'd have ever gone down that road,” Harry muttered, but a grin tugged at his lips. He shook his head with a snort. “Man, I'd make one fucked-up teenager, wouldn't I?”
“I live in your mind,” Meciel deadpanned with an amused glint in her eyes. “Trust me- it's worse than you know.”
“It usually is,” Harry muttered. He flicked his wand and frowned when the pile of ash remained a pile of ash. “Ah well,” he remarked. “I hope Black was attached to the chair…or the bookshelf…or that table.”
There was a sudden knock on the door and Harry tensed, quickly spinning around as derision flickered over his face. He was prepared to let out a biting retort, fully expecting to see Black at the doorway, but he stopped when he realised he was wrong. It was a woman, quite dumpy and aged with stringy red locks and a motherly air about her.
“Harry Potter?” she asked hesitantly, her eyes sweeping over the room and picking out the ruined furniture with surprising ease. But, if what Harry had heard was true and she had already popped out seven kids, she would probably be used the occasional row or two.
“Weasley, right?” Harry asked gruffly, lowering his wand.
“You can call me Molly, dear,” the woman said with a beaming smile. “I've just come to let you know that we're back from the hospital. I've started making lunch for all of us. You're welcome to join us.”
“I'm not hungry,” Harry muttered sourly, waving Molly away with his hand. He turned back to the room and sought out something else he could blow up.
“I also want to thank you,” Molly said, making Harry look up with a puzzled frown. “Arthur would have died if you hadn't warned Dumbledore. Our children will all agree that we owe you a lot for keeping him with us.”
“Ah,” Harry uttered. He frowned, scratching his head and suddenly feeling quite awkward. Almost out of habit, an arrogant expression crossed his face and he let out a wide smile. “Well, it probably won't be the last time I save one of you Order wizards, given that I'm definitely the better wizard amongst you. I'm just hoping that Dumbledore will pay me for it.”
“Oh, well if you want a reward…” Molly began hesitantly, licking her lips and looking as if she were doing a mental tally in her head. “We don't have a lot of gold, but I suppose we do owe you a life debt…”
“No, not from you,” Harry scoffed, and Molly blinked. Harry continued, a vindictive smile crossing his face. “From Dumbledore, I'm pissed off at him, you see, so my ego could handle the sight of him handing me a sack of gold himself.”
Molly didn't say anything. She smiled one last time and backed out of the room, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts- and somebody else.
“You almost had me worried there for a moment,” Meciel remarked quietly, her illusion springing back into existence. She observed Harry with an unfathomable look in her silver eyes.
“Huh?” Harry frowned.
“For a moment, I thought that something that Black had said seemed to strike a chord,” Meciel said. She strode forward as Harry made a loud noise of disgust.
“All he said was a bunch of emotional hippy crap,” he muttered sourly, idly tucking his wand back into his robes. He scratched his head and leant back against the wall.
“I seem to remember you sprouting a lot of that 'emotional hippy crap' when I first met you,” Meciel noted and seemed to suppress a smile when Harry's face twitched.
“Yeah, well, I was a kid,” Harry snapped loudly, then sighed and lowered his voice. “I didn't know any better. I do now.”
“Good,” Meciel said after a moment's pause. But something in her face had softened as she reached Harry; she surprised him by wrapping her arms around him and drawing him into her warmth. Harry frowned, although he accepted her blazing warmth into his mind to lift his spirits and wash away his tiredness.
“Okay, not that I'll ever dislike the feeling of breasts pressed up against me, but what gives?” he asked after a few moments.
Meciel drew back, looking at him with resigned amusement and shaking her head. Clearly she knew better a lost cause when she saw it and let the comment slide. Her eyes were soft- softer than usual, and there was an unusual glint to them that Harry had only seen a few times.
“I was touched by what you said about me,” she said softly. “I promise you, beloved, that I will be all that you will ever need, from here to the end of time.”
Harry's face softened and he let a genuinely affectionate smile cross his face. There was a beat as affection rolled off both for their mental presences, before Harry sighed and shook his head in mock disgust.
“Sook,” he muttered affectionately.
“Pervert,” Meciel shot back.