Harry Potter was furious. For a number of reasons. One: Ron and Hermione were getting on his nerves. Like bloody crying babies. Hermione wouldn't shut up about how his comment at dinner last night was uncalled for, and that he needed to just go apologize to Ron already. Which wasn't going to happen. Despite the fact he had told her repeatedly that he wasn't going to, she still wouldn't shut her trap about it. Ron was just being his usual, immature bratty self. Obviously ignoring him, but openly, making it a point to point out that he was ignoring Harry.
Two: He had woken up in soiled boxers on the Astronomy Tower. Granted, he had been the one to fall asleep there, and it was his fault that he forgot that the Dark Lord loved to tease him in his sleep. Still, he knew that Tom knew where he was. He had done it intentionally, of that he was sure. Oh, just thinking about that man... it set his nerves on fire. If he could get his hands on him at that moment... He'd punch him so hard in his face he'd fracture his jaw. He'd hex him into the next decade, and make sure he stayed there! Then... he'd grab his face and crash their lips together, and kiss him like there was no tomorrow.
Probably not in that order.
Three: Voldemort still refused to tell him what that mark on his neck was. First chance he got, he was researching it in the library. It irritated him, that Voldemort wouldn't tell him the meaning of something on HIS body. HIS body! Not Voldemort's, not Tom Riddle's, not Jack down the street's. His. Harry bloody Potter's. That man dared leave a mark on him on not tell him the meaning of it? Dismissing it, is more what he did, or promising that 'all would show in the near future'. God, that infuriated him.
Four: He was late. For Potion's. Snape's first class of the year and he was going to be late. Still, he would rather show up late than show up on time without his essay. It took him the better part of three weeks to write it, to make sure everytihng was correct. He damn sure wasn't going to show up without it. Might as well decide to flunk the entire year. Well, he probably was going to do that anyway. He wasn't going to be liked any more by Snape now that he was Lord Voldemort's... what was he to Voldemort again?
Ugh... I don't even know... Via their mind connection he could feel the man's smug attitude, but continued to ignore him. Far too pissed at him, he didn't even want to ask him. Not what he was to the man, not what the mark meant. Didn't even want him in his head, but he wasn't good enough at Occlumency to keep the man out. So, instead, he ignored him.
Darting into his dormitory, he lunged across the beds in his way, using them as springboards in order to reach his own. Dropping to his knees, rushing so quickly he bruised both kneecaps, he threw open his trunk, digging into the contents to find his rolled up parchment that had his Potion's essay on it. Fuck... Snape's gonna kill me! Anxiety rumbled in his stomach, at the thought of what Spane was going to do if he was late. Shit! He darted back out of the dormitory, sprinting as fast as he could back to the dungeons, ignoring the furious feeling he was receiving from Voldemort.
He won't do anything to you. I see not why you are so fearful. The Dark Lord couldn't understand how the boy could fear his follower.
Keh, the boy replied, quite forgetting his resolve not to speak to the wizard. I see him every single day. He can make my life hell. He's like a thorn in my bloody side. He clutched at his side while he ran, a stitch forming from how fast he was running. You don't make my life hell. Quite the opposite, really. The teen could feel the man's pleasure at the words via their link, but ignored it, biting his lip as he ran into the dungeon just as Snape entered the room, signalling that if he would have been a have second later, he would have been too late.
"Whoo..." he said aloud, wiping sweat from his forehead. The only empty seat was beside Neville, and he plopped down beside him, grinning over at him. Harry had nothing against Neville, nothing at all. Though a little slow at times, he didn't cause any harm, really, and he had a good heart. That always counted for something in Harry's book.
