Anger
As expected, talking to Snape wasn't a great experience.
Harry was wandering around the school, things that he had heard just a few minutes ago were stuck in his head and didn't intend to leave it.
Over my dead body, Potter. You won't stay in this school and I will personally take care of it. This time next year you will be rotting in the juvenile centre and, let me tell you something, noone will feel sorry for you.
Harry wasn't even sure why he felt so bad about it. As if he
wasn't hearing the exact same words from Snape every few days. Or as if he really did something so bad that he could expell him for it.
He was supposed to be at maths classes, forced to listen to Ron rattling on how much he hates math.
And Harry did as well, to be honest. Or at least he didn't understand anything from it. That could make anyone hate it.
Maybe this was the reason why his legs led him somewhere else than to the classroom, and maybe that was the reason why he was later standing in front of the white, plastic door.
THE LIBRARY.
Harry came in, quietly walking towards his regular place. He threw his backpack down and dropped on the floor, closing his eyes and taking some deep breaths.
He loved the smell of the books.
As always, he wasn't able to just stay in this position, without doing something, something pointful and useful.
He delved into his backpack, looking for his notebooks. He grabbed the first one that came into his way and opened it at the random page.
'The definition of love', til tommorow.
Obviously, the essay Lupin wanted them to write. The same Lupin that wanted to talk to Harry after their lesson and never got a chance. For a moment Harry started wondering if Lupin will be mad, that he didn't come to his office after talking to Snape, but then he remembered that he didn't care about this sort of things.
He looked at the essay's topic once again. There couldn't be more basic topic. More boring one.
But since he didn't have anything to do here anyway he could at least try to write something. And so he did.
The words were coming to him somehow naturally, he was writing fast, almost scruffily, his hands quickly became dirty from the ink. He loved that for just a brief moment he didn't have to think about anything other than his essay; not about Snape, not about Lupin, not about Hermione-
- Good afternoon - Harry heard someone's whisper near the librarian's desk.
He suddenly dropped his pen and hided his essay behind his back, breathing heavily. Harry curiously looked at the new visitor and grimaced at what he saw. There was only one person in this school with this bushy hair.
Hermione didn't seem to notice him, as she turned into one of the aisles, looking for a particular book. And Harry wasn't sure what has gotten into him and what made him want to do that, as he was very much sure he didn't want to spend any more minute with that Hermione. But he stood up, following the girl's footsteps with trained silence.
She seemed to be looking for one particular book and Harry followed her gaze, scanning the titles at the top of the shelf.
What would it be, that she would be looking for so bad.
Anna Karenina? Way too simple
Some poetry? That didn't seem to fit Hermione
Or maybe...
He quickly reached his hand and grabbed the book that caught his attention, only seconds before Hermione managed to do that. It wasn't the first time he thanked God for his quick reflexes.
Hermione sighed in surprise and turned her head towards Harry.
- Hey, I was here first! - she said, sending him a fiery gaze.
- And I was the first one to grab it - Harry answered softly, feeling satisfaction when seeing her annoyed look.
‐ Well, that's just not- it isn't - Hermione seemed to have trouble with expressing her thoughts. - It's not fair! I really need it.
- And what if I need it too? Have you thought about that?
Hermione sent him unbelieving look. ‐ It's not funny. Give it back.
- I can't give it back, because it was never yours - he answered. - Don't you have any more arguments?
- Harry, I really need it...
- Yes, you've already said that.
- Well, ladies first? - she finally asked.
- Oh, and what happened to your fight for equal rights and emancipation, hm?
Hermione sent him an unpleasant look, taking a few steps forward.
- Listen to me... you don't even know what it is, you grabbed it only to annoy me, you do everythi-
- This is Anger - he interrupted her. - The most recent book of Benjamin Coldroth, almost impossible to find in any library. And it cost some horrendous amount of money. I'll give it to you when I'll read it.
Hermione didn't seem to be impressed with his knowledge. - When you'll finally finish reading it, I will already graduate from this school.
- You don't know that - Harry shrugged, quickly grabbing his backpack and heading towards the exit. - And besides, you shouldn't be reading this book anyway. I've heard he's a sexist. And a mysoginist. Benjamin Coldroth, I mean.
And without looking back at the girl he left.
Leaving his essay as well.
***
- Was this fucking bat keeping you in his office this entire time? - Seamus asked, when Harry finally came back to his friends. Their classes had already ended. - Cause that sounds like some, what do they call it... child abuse or something.
Harry laughed and jokingly hit the other boy's arm. He threw his skateboard onto the ground and started slowly riding it alongside his friends.
- Yeah, you know Snape - Harry shrugged. - He does it all the time.
- What did he tell you? - Neville asked with a little frightened expression on his face. - They're not going to expell you, are they?
- Not yet. They'll have to deal with me for at least a few more months. Till the end of the semester.
The boys laughed, but Harry could see how the atmosphere has changed. Ron sent him a worried look and seemed to gather all his thoughts, before he asked:
- What about your social worker? She's not gonna help you? I thought it's her job to-
- Well, I think she's had enough of me - Harry cut him, trying to smile at him. - You know, I was probably interesting at the beginning, but now it's time for her to start looking for another troubled kid.
- Hey, she actually seemed to care! - Ron answered, sending Harry a confused look. - At least from what you told us. She was the first one to start asking you about your family life and then she tried to help you with your uncle.
- She didn't try to help, she just called my aunt and then I had the worst-
Harry stopped suddenly. He remembered the day Mrs. Granger interrupted their history class to take him to her office. That wasn't anything new, but the talk he later had with her and Aunt Petunia in the same room was worse than any other talk they've had before.
He was always careful when she wanted to talk about his relatives. He didn't want to repeat his elementary school mistakes, when he had been stupid enough to believe, that if he tells everything about how Dursleys treat him, he will be taken away from them, they will find him a real family and he'll finally have a normal life.
There was no way he told Mrs. Granger anything about it, she had to be talking with other people from school or maybe even with some of his previous social workers and teachers. That made him so angry, that he almost felt the blood buzzing in his ears, drowning out the Aunt Petunia's shrill voice. But he didn't need to hear it to know what she was saying.
That boy was a trouble since the beginning, even when he was a little boy.
My husband and I, we truly wanted to raise him as our own, we still try, but you see how he turned out.
Vernon? He would never do that, ask anyone you want! Don't tell me you believe in any of these things the boy is making up.
My husband couldn't come, he's got a very important job. But if you'd have only seen him, he wouldn't hurt a fly.
Before he knew, the talk has ended and Mrs. Granger was giving him a strange look. Almost as if she was... apologising?
But he didn't have time to think about it, as Aunt Petunia dragged him out of school and into the car, squeezing his arm tightly with her bony fingers. She kept saying things like "just wait until we get home", "you're gonna regret it", "you really tought you could get away with that?" and "just wait until Vernon comes back from work"
She had a habit of saying all this things even if he didn't do anything, but now he knew she was telling the truth. He was doomed.
During normal days with the Dursleys his life was almost normal. Maybe sometimes they would lock him in his room for a longer time, or they would make him skip couple of meals and there were a few times when uncle Vernon was drunk and hit him a little harder. He had some bruises on his face for couple of days, but that was all, it didn't even hurt. And uncle Vernon would never left bruises on his face if he wasn't drunk.
It wasn't like he was abused.
But then, after that talk Aunt Petunia had with Mrs. Granger he was almost scared. He remembered staying in his room for the next few days, feeling like in some fever, when he couldn't even tell the difference between the day and the night, spending it all waiting for Aunt Petunia to slip a small glass of water through the cat flap in his door, flinching everytime he heard heavy steps on the stairs, thinking about-
- Hey, Harry! - he suddenly heard Ron shouting into his ear. - You're drifting away, mate. Are you ok?
- Yeah I'm... Sorry I... I'm ok.
The boys were looking at him with worried faces and Harry speeded up, he wasn't able to stand their worry and he didn't want them to pursue the topic of his family.
- I just meant that... - he started, trying to keep his cool tone. - Mrs. Granger doesn't really get anything about my life. She thinks it's all so simple, that she can say a couple of complicated psychological sentences that noone would understand and it will solve all my problems.
Dean Thomas released a small laugh and Harry breathed a sign of relief. He smiled at his friends and kept talking:
- You're an antisocial element with a dissocial personality, incapable of establishing closer interpersonal relationships - he said, imitating Mrs. Granger's posh accent. - That's what she told me today.
- Say it once again and two times slower - Ron looked at him confused. - What does that even mean?
- Basically that I don't have any friends.
- What?!
- Bullshit!
- And what about us?!
Harry smiled, as he felt the pleasant warmth, spreading around his chest. He looked at his friends and shrugged:
- Now you see what I mean. She doesn't really... she doesn't get it.
His friends nodded with understanding. Harry smiled once more and moved his gaze at their surrounding. They finally made it to the eastern part of Little Whinging, full of square, grey blocks, covered with graffiti. It was full of factories back in the days, but with the huge modernization the companies moved them to some bigger aglomerations. However, the huge vacant buildings stayed, becoming homes and places of meetings to all kind of drug addicts, homeless people and everyone else, who wouldn't be welcomed in a regular society. It was this type of place, that would put Aunt Petunia into a coma - that's why Harry loved it.
- Hey Harry, wanna fag? - Semus has already passed him a cigarette.
- Sure - he answered anyway, putting it in his mouth and rammaging through his pockets for a lighter.
- What about you, Ron?
- Nah, I can't - the redhead boy shook his head, speeding up on his skateboard.
- What do you mean you can't? - Dean gave him a confused look.
- Listen, I don't want to fight with my mum. She's still a little mad at me for that party we went to last weekend.
- Oh, stop it - Seamus joined, waving the pack of cigarettes in front of Ron's face. - She's not here, she won't know.
- I wish... She has like this fucking sixth sense for all these things. She'll smell it from my breath right away...
- Gosh, you're such a cissy. Even Neville's not afraid to have a little fun.
- Give him a break, Seamus - Harry suddenly said, looking at Ron's red ears, wondering for how long will he be able to stay composed. - You know how it is sometimes-
- Well I don't think he does, actually - Ron interrupted him. - You do realise not everyone comes from this grey hole, where everyone does this shit, Seamus?
The other boy laughed at his words, but Harry could feel the tension, growing between them. - And what would you know about it, oh great prince?
- It's actually Harry who lives in the nice part of the city and I don't see him complaining - Dean added.
- To be honest my situation is a bit different-
- Fuck you, Seamus - Ron interrupted him, speeding up even more. - And fuck you, Dean. I'm going home, I need to help my parents in the bakery, because some people here actually have to work sometimes.
- Don't forget to inform on us to Snape tommorow! - Seamus shouted to his back.
Harry sent him an unpleasant look and followed Ron, trying to keep up with his friend. - Wait! Hey, stop! Seamus sometimes says stupid things, his tongue works way faster than his brain, that's all! And sometimes his brain just stops working at all, you know that, right?!
Somehow Ron seemed to skate even faster and was now taking a huge turn on a maximum speed.
- Hey, mate, I'm serious, wait for me-
Harry stopped, looking at a black sportster, emerging from the nearby street. Ron wouldn't see it from his current position on the turn, not with the speed he currently had. He was about to crash into it.
- Ron, stop! You need to brake, there's a ca-
But before he could finish, he heard a squeaky tire sound and rushed into the place of the accident.
Ron was lying right in front of the car with a dent on its bonnet.