Solace of Slytherin; a grandson of Voldemort Story

Allies or Enemies? (This could be the death of me-)

A/n: chapter title inspired from the song Allies or Enemies by the Crane Wives, lovely band, and I hope this chapter will be just as lovely for you.

Harry had to do a double take, "pardon me, stranger that just pranced out of the walls, but what?", his tone came off much more snarky then he intended, but his nose is still clogged, and his patience is still thin. The one who spoke was a freckled teen about Harry's age with blonde hair and several heavy looking bags on him. Behind him, a dark skinned girl with curly hair had the same stunned expression, and leaning on her-

Harry forgot how to breathe.

A pale boy, maybe around his age as well, leaning on her with his dark hair obscuring his face, but the feature was familiar enough that made Harry's breath hitch painfully.

The blonde who spoke did a double take this time, embarrassment catching up to him and a speckle of pink dusting his cheeks. "Well, with the way you're holding your forehead, you most likely have a tension headache or something-" the silence that ensued only turned more awkward.

The new girl was finally the first one to snap into action and made a break for the front door, hauling the pale boy with her while her blonde companion grabbed Kreature, who looked like he was having the time of his life. Harry was stunned by the sudden motion, but Hermione's yell snapped him out of it, and both of them chased down the stairs to pursue the group. The three were walking through the mounted elf heads, towards the portraits, almost making it to the front door, if Harry could just grab unto his wand-

"Locomotor mortis, seriously, how many times are you guys gonna forget your wizards!" Ron shouted as he started joining them in the chase. His spell hitting on the sprinting girl, and her sudden inability to move would have caused her face to be caved in if the blonde hadn't dove and saved both her and the other boy. Harry almost pitied the way he still tried to get away from them, shuffling the two bodies and heavy bags. Kreature stopped smiling as well, Harry would have thought he looked rather panicked actually, close to tears even, but Harry was still having whiplash on the fact that Kreature could even feel.

Soon enough, the blonde's legs shook enough to cause him to collapse too, using his body to shield the other two from Harry and his friends. The sound of more footsteps could be heard descending the stairs, panicked shouting and wands being brandished and pointed at the three kids just a few steps away from the front door. Perhaps it was fear, or the way that he was clearly outnumbered, but the boy raised his hands up in surrender.

If you asked Harry, he looked resolved to his fate.

"Please, we've never done anything to you people, we just want to go home," his voice was soft, but Harry could hear the sentiments of it. He wasn't sure if others did, but he could recognize the words from somewhere. Perhaps a memory locked away deep inside him that he never thought he'd think of again. A closet, a squeaking animal, an angry uncle. Just as quickly as it came it left, and he came back to the present with Mrs. Weasley ushering them to dinner while the three strangers were left to the other adults.

His plate was empty before everyone else's, there wasn't much to begin with, and now he wasn't trudging up the stairs towards his bed. This summer was generous with the amount of stress he got to deal with. And now the stress was gracious enough to keep him up at night as he thought of the grandson of his parent's murderer right around the corner. Sighing for the upteenth time, Harry got out of the bed and lied down on the floor.

Which is where Ron found him because they shared the same room, and because they probably also share the same brain cell, he lied down with him on the other end of the carpet.

Maybe this could just be one long fever dream, and nobody was actually desperate enough to sleep with Voldemort of all people, even when he was known as Tom Riddle. But the three people that, as Ron overheard, were now being kept in the basement could prove it. Could prove that the grandson of Voldemort actually existed in this crack house of a universe where shitty uncles and shitty wizard fascists existed, and oh look, Ron's vocabulary has tainted him.

His barrage of thoughts were interrupted as a blanket was thrown over him, and another beside him as his newly appointed floor mate also threw a pillow straight to his face. "If you aren't going to sleep on a proper bed, then you might as well make yourself comfortable on the bloody floor, mate." Leave it to Ron to make the situation feel just a little bit better, he missed this in fourth year and he definitely misses it now, but he doesn't know how to accept the thoughtfulness when his thoughts where all over the place.

"Goodnight Harry."
"Goodnight Ron."
And even if it was already close to the witching hour, when Harry fell asleep, he felt more tired then he's ever had since the summer.

A/n:
Me: *curses in a fic*
My beta reader: *gasp in Asian* Caca!
Me: I'm rude now. *v*