The Idiot and The Heir

Confron-Train-tion

I will apologize that the title ever occured to me, but not for including it.

I was stupidly tired at the time, because I laughed for ten straight minutes at it.

Some mention of blood and implied injuries, nothing gruesome.

Early in the morning of september first found Harry awake before the rest of Malfoy manor's inhabitants; before the sun had even lightened the horizon.

Ever since their visit to Diagon Alley, Harry had slept horribly, his head filled with endless noise as he replayed what had happened in Flourish and Blotts'. He confided in Tom, and had even told him how uncomfortable he felt about being famous. Had told him how Lockhart had made such a show of it all, and how it made Harry feel sick. The only thing Harry didn't tell his newest friend, nor anyone else, about, were the fresh bandages that adorned his arms, which were freshened almost twice a day the whole week following the incident, straight to today.

Harry's head was nearly pounding from the thoughts running through it. Nothing really silenced them, but the sharp sting of metal on flesh focused his attention, creating an island of distraction in the sea of unending noise. He had been so distracted over the past month with his friends that his arms had healed quite well, considering. Yet now lines of red leaked past faded pink and white, not showing through the bandages yet but making a determined effort.

"Famous Harry Potter," he muttered listlessly to himself, "can't even go into a book shop without making the front page."

He pressed his thumb against where the worst cut lay beneath cotton.

"How I wish he was dead."

But how would that be, to repay the Malfoys with such a gruesome sight first thing in the morning? And so many people judged them harshly, how would they react if it got out Harry was found dead in their home? It was a poor way to repay everything they'd done for him.

The painful sting from his tight grip quieted his thoughts enough for him to take a deep breath. It was an umbrella in a flood, but it was all he had.

He ended up changing the bandage on his left arm again before heading down for breakfast with the rest of the house. Morning greetings were exchanged, and everyone dined quietly.

When everyone had ate, the boys hurried back up to their rooms to get dressed and pack whatever was left out. Harry double checked his pocket, where he'd taken to carrying his diary since Dobby tried to take it, and was satisfied to find it hadn't moved during breakfast.

Mrs. Malfoy made rounds to check they hadn't forgotten to pack anything, and that they were dressed in their school robes, as they would be flooing straight onto the platform from Malfoy Manor. Harry was a bit nervous about that part of the journey, since he had only ever flooed twice so far, and didn't enjoy the sensation in the least.

It was a quarter to ten when they all left, Mrs. Malfoy preceding the boys, who went through in pairs, as they had going to Diagon Alley. This time, Harry went through with Blaise, who managed to keep Harry upright upon their exit, if only just. Theo and Draco were next, with Mr. Malfoy bring up the rear. As they all brushed the soot from their cloaks, Dobby appeared with a deafening crack! bringing their trunks. With a low bow to the Malfoys, and a worried glance at Harry, Dobby vanished back to the manor.

Mr. Malfoy hovered their trunks aboard, while Mrs. Malfoy fussed over them one last time.

"Have a good year, boys, and try to stay out of trouble. Don't forget to write, Draco. You as well, Harry." She pulled them each into one last hug, embracing Harry longer then Theo or Blaise, and not letting go of Draco until he made a show of complaining she was smothering him, though he was equally reluctant to let go. When Mr. Malfoy returned, he made his own, less personal goodbyes, giving them each a handshake, and resting his own on Draco's shoulder.