Of Ows and Gits

A/N; Thank you for reviewing people! Only now that I’m on this side of fanfiction, writing, do I realize the value of this kind of recognition, really. Glad to know my work is appreciated, even if I have bad grammar and the flow is odd (I heard that of my other story) you stuck with me, thanks.
Also, I’ve just realized that when I named Malfoy’s owl Alastor I seem to have completely forgotten Moody’s existence. Oh, well.

Important: Remember that this is AUish so you’ll see some parts where I clearly ignore cannon (cough*lupin*cough).
------------------------X-------------------------

Hedwig sat at her perch in the owlery thoughtfully after a tasty meal of plump, baby rats. She’d been feeling quite torn in her little owl heart recently. The responsibilities and affection she held for her master, Harry, fought against her own – er – desires and needs. Oh woe, what was she to do to make it right? But Harry was confusing too, what was the problem of her and Alastor together? He was strong and very fast and efficient in his deliveries, and all that long, dark brown and black feathers…she flushed inside with the knowledge that she’d gotten the best male around – even if now all the other female owls sent constant murderous glares at her.

And, of course, the shiny-haired master was quite a good one too – the boneless Egyptian Jerboa treats were really something – and it was hard to understand the weird tension she detected between him and her Harry. Hedwig nibbled the rest of her, previously fluffy and cute, food and brooded on the matter. The discovery of their home in the castle’s wall had been a pity – the view had more than made up for the slightly chilly nights – but Alastor’s master had provided them with a nice new alcove near Green House 3, spacious, warm and, most importantly, well hidden behind a tall bush of Strangula.

And that’s where she was heading now, after clearing the stone perch of any lasting bones, to meet secretly – oh, the feel of adventure! – with Alastor. As Hedwig dove expertly through the night sky she regarded a last thought to her human that just didn’t know better, when the proud eagle-owl so alike his master came into view.

Harry’ll forgive me.

-----------------------------------------

Harry’d never forgive Hedwig! He’d been sitting in the cold grass for hours – as the rising sun seemed to attest – and now, after finally coming out of his shocked stupor, concluded that it was all her fault.

All that stuff that had been sitting around, thrown carelessly inside a hole in the wall, could very well have been seen by someone! What if Malfoy had seen it? He knew where the owls were – unless he’d gotten there that day following Harry, what kind of made sense – and could have easily recognized the nest’s material for what it was. But then, Harry thought, if he’d seen it – shudder - he certainly wouldn’t have left it there to rot and house feathers and eventually…eggs. God.

Shaking his head Harry tried to focus again. He’d already gone through everything he’d found and – thankfully, for after the contents of that box he didn’t know how much more he could take – most of the letters were just that, letters. Very innocent as all should be. But some – he looked down at the small pile he’d formed securely away from himself – not so much. It looked like the person that had sent The Drawing wasn’t alone in their crazy delusions, and other such nefarious pieces of fanart had also tainted his poor suffering eyes until he could get them far, far away enough.

That was another matter, what would he do with the stuff he’d found? Burying or burning was a solution but Harry was sightly afraid that they could be magical somehow – he refused to look at the box where the Snape Doll had been stuffed, that thing had scared the bejesus out of him and he wouldn’t be surprised if it rose from the earth the haunt him in his sleep – so, Harry found himself at a crossroad. He’d never show The Stuff to his friends for he wanted to keep some of his honor, where he to survive Voldemort – as if adolescent life didn’t have enough challenges –, and live it down.

It’s not that he needed someone to tell him what to do – a good Gryffindor never thinks too much before they act – but Harry was honestly frazzled. The Stuff was dangerous from it’s sheer power to humiliate him and Harry shuddered to think what could happen were it to fall in the wrong hands. More specifically a certain blond’s well manicured ones.

So, as he wasn’t going for anyone in his House for help – and he didn’t know if he‘d be able to face Ron or Hermione before he enlargened Margarette the Midget’s statue a good deal first, anyway –, it left the teachers and Headmaster if he decided to seek aid in freeing himself from the evil fans’ deeds. Dumbledore was too busy and, also, Harry didn‘t want to wonder how the twinkling eyes would be if they saw The Drawings or The Box. From the teachers, McGonagall was a possibility, but she probably wouldn’t approve of him corresponding with strangers in the first place…

That left Professor Lupin. Good, calm, and surprisingly knowledgeable in the matters of life, their teacher that had managed to come back this year – how, exactly, Harry couldn’t tell for the life of him – would surely know what Harry should do. With that thought in mind, the slightly pertubed boy quickly gathered everything under his invisibility cloak – at arms length – and ran back to the castle.

-----------------------------------------

–Harry! To what do I owe this visit so early in the morning? – Lupin smiled amicably, genuinely surprised by the sudden visit.

–Professor, sorry to intrude – Harry shuffled inside when granted permission and silently cursed his dumbness to go looking for him even before breakfast –, but I wanted to ask you for some advise…

–Oh, what is it, Harry? Please sit down. – a look of worry crossed Lupin’s eyes. For Harry to come looking for him at the crack of dawn…the werewolf now noted discreetly his pupil’s even-more-than-normal mused hair and blue and pink bear pajamas. He motioned for Harry to sit on one of the wingback chairs before the fireplace, settling himself on the other – So what is it you wanted to discuss? – He said slowly, as if approaching a skitish animal.

–I, I`ve been corresponding with some girls and, well, you know, from that time Witch Weekly wrote my perfil or something. They’ve sent me some stuff… – it was harder to say than Harry had anticipated, now he fidgeted awkwardly and looked down, hoping that Remus could somehow guess all he wanted to say.

–I see, – Lupin sighed, relieved. So, it was only girl trouble – tell me, then, what happened?

Not wanting to venture an explanation again, Harry decided to cut the chase and just show it. Professor Lupin would understand, he had to. – and he would not laugh at him, either – Harry grabbed the bundle he`d brought and carefully parted his invisibility cloak to reveal The Drawings and Box of Doom.

Confused, Lupin reached out to the odd offering – uh, did Harry want him to read his love letters? – and slowly picked one of the folded paper, pretending not to notice Harry’s gulp of apprehension. For a minute, after he’d opened what revealed to be a drawing, he just stared. Is that a…

–Ah, professor?

Snapping out of it, Lupin looked back at Harry and smiled reassuringly. Then it was boy trouble. He wasn’t expect it, really. But Harry was a special boy and if he followed on his father`s footsteps #cough# it wouldn’t be surprising that he would be adventurous enough. And that Malfoy boy…he sure could understand the appeal for Harry – if the drawing was anything to go by.

–So, Harry, you and Malfoy, – Lupin began, assuming he`d gotten what all the fuss was about.

–What?! No! It`s nothing like that! – Harry flushed, shaking one hand before himself in an attempt to expunge the idea out of his teacher`s mind. What if it made sense and and the universe #gasp# . No better not to think on these lines – It’s all these crazy fans. They’ve sent me this stuff, I, look!

Without the right words to describe just how far that people had went on trying to cause him brain spasms – wait! What if Voldemort had something to do with it? It certainly was evil enough – Harry just thrust The Evil Box of Doom at Lupin.

Exasperated at having a box nearly hit his head, Lupin sighed for the nth time that night. What was wrong with liking another boy? Harry didn’t need to be so nervous, it was alright. Lupin prepared to sigh again but suddenly couldn’t, for all the air in his lungs escaped when – after absentmindedly opening the small, seemingly innocent box – his hazel eyes gazed upon it`s contents. A Snape Doll. A small soft body and clay head and limbs. Black hair and eyes. The nose. Oh!

Lupin could tell he was drooling.

Harry was slightly freaked out.

What the hell, the boy thought, seeing his calm and collected teacher acting like that. Then the doll was cursed! Following that – as if the night hadn’t been tumultuous enough for Harry`s poor heart – he watched in horror as Lupin began to nuzzle the thing!

–Professor Lupin?! – old habits died hard – What are you doing?! That’s Snape, you know!

–Ah? Oh yes, Harry. You wanted to ask something right? Maybe you wanted to dispose of this doll? You could give it to me. I wouldn’t mind it, you know.

–Wha, how did you know I wanted to get rid of it? – Harry halted on his way to hysterics – But are you sure you want it? It seems to be having some weird effect on you. – He said uncertainly, the worry for his dear professor warring against the desire to be free of The Doll.

–Of course I can keep it safely, my boy! Don’t worry yourself. Now, why don’t you go get ready for class? You don’t want to be late, right? – Lupin got up, a clear sign that the talk was over, and, still holding the doll, led Harry out uttering a cheery good luck and see ya.

Harry stood a minute outside after the door had closed behind him. Somehow that didn’t seem to have gone as he`d planed. And – although he`d gotten rid of The Freaky Doll – he still had all the other stuff! No!

-------------------------------------

Breakfast time met a sleepy Harry sitting slumped at the Gryffindor table, not even Ron and Hermione`s brave attempts to offer him their chocolate éclairs got him out of his dark mood – it didn’t help that a certain bruise on Hermione’s neck was very suspicious and made him unable to look directly at them the whole time.

Earlier, Harry had agreed with Lupin’s words and gone back to his dormitory to get ready for the day, as there wasn’t time to hope for a nap anymore. So he got out of his sleeping clothes – he couldn’t believe he’d walked around on his bear pajamas! – and went to stock The Stuff somewhere unplotable, just until he decided how best to dispose of them.

But that was when Harry made the mistake of looking at them again as he stuffed everything inside his pillow – come on, is there a better hiding place? – and stared. In the drawings it was his and Malfoy’s heads alright, but the bodies…unless they both were really twenty and secretly worked out everyday…what do those fangirls think? Harry settled down on his bed to examine them.

At night, when he’d found them, he didn’t really look at it properly – not that it deserved to be looked at, but he was slightly curious now – and, purely out of respect for proportions, Harry decided to pay closer attention to it now. The problem was that, as time passed, Harry found his gaze less drawn to the oddities of the drawings but to the, well, actual picture.

One of them – the one he spent, completely normal, 20 minutes on – was magical, so it was animated. How exactly the person got something done with pencil to move didn’t seem to matter much. All Harry could see was that Malfoy`s unnaturally defined biceps shone with sweat as they circled Harry`s six pack, and Harry’s scar almost glowed when he bended back to--

Ron – the perverse being who could learn to mind his own business – had, then, called Harry through his bed’s hangings to wake him up.

And that that got Harry close to being the first sixteen years old wizard to die of heart attack was the only reason he was so sullen now at breakfast.

Finally accepting an éclair from Ron – he owed him! – Harry decided to forget it. His behavior was making people suspicious, although it was good to see his friends – confused – worried about him for a change it wouldn’t be good if they found out what was going on.

Harry, trying to musted an appearance of normalcy, raised his head from the table top and went about his usual survey of the Great Hall. But just as he passed over the Head Table he spotted Professor Lupin sitting next to Snape. They were apparently talking, as Lupin was turned towards Snape and their lips were moving, even though the Potions Master was mostly only glaring at his scrambled eggs. Harry observed curiously for a moment, only to hurriedly tear his gaze away when Lupin smiled and leaned in a bit closer to the other. He could swear that, for a terrifying instant, Snape blushed!

But, accidentally, while he was trying to avoid the, oh so wrong, scene at the Head Table, Harry’s gaze fell and locked with a certain Slytherin’s. Malfoy looked as healthy as ever and Harry silently admonished himself for thinking that a little curse and the subsequent collision with a hard stone floor could have done any lasting damage.

This assumption about Malfoy’s state was suddenly contested – maybe he’d had a little concussion after all – because Malfoy smiled amicably at him and waved as if they were old friends. God, what was Malfoy planning now? It seems that it was too much to hope that after that ‘talk’ in the dungeons the git would give up whatever he’d been scheming. But no, there was still something going on below that smiling façade.

And Harry would figure out what it was even if it possessed him!…I mean, killed him! No matter that Hedwig was already set to the right path again, now it was a question of honor. Who did Malfoy think he was to smile at him like that? Or to make that moaning face and writhe like that? Oh, no, wait, that was the drawing!Malfoy.

Just as Harry was deciding that he definitely would not stand it – he couldn’t even think to go down that dark, dangerous, but weirdly alluring road – the mail time came and a flock of colorful owls flew from the windows towards the tables. Looking around, Harry concluded that, as of recently, Hedwig was absent. But he didn’t note in time that another owl, one that he unfortunately knew well, came in his direction, and Harry could only jump startled when a envelope dropped on his lap.

Piking it up carefully, aware of both his friend’s curious stares and a certain blond’s across the Hall, Harry examined the elegant, clear envelope. It didn’t have a name on it but he knew all too well who it was from – Harry doubted the Malfoy owl delivered for anyone else – and made sure not to open it in front of anyone. Who knew what that guy could have written – blush –, no, he wouldn’t…

Just as he prepared to thrust the thing inside one of his big, parchment pockets, the envelope jumped from his hand and skipped across the plates on the table to stop in the middle of it. To Harry’s increasing horror and sensation of doom, the folding opened and from inside came a mean sized piece of paper with flowery writing all over it. Then, from nowhere , came a voice reading loud enough to the whole Great Hall to hear.

Love Spell

Every time I look at you
my heart skips a beat
I wonder if you know, my love,
that my heart is at your feet
I leave it there for you to do
whatever that you wish
You could take my heart,
and love me,
Or just leave me in this bliss.

Somehow, managing to keep his wits about him and look through all the laughing heads in the Great Hall – even professor Lupin was barely holding a smile –, Harry spotted Malfoy sitting at the Slytherin table.

And then, the git just went and blew a kiss at him.

--------------------------X--------------------------
-WIP-

PS: I don’t own the poem ‘Love Spell’, it’s from someone called Ana Martinez. I`m too bad at poetry to have risked blinding you people.