Past of Bonds
Harry idly wondered if it was too late to kick the vampires out. The look on Cedric’s knock-off was the only answer he needed. He sometimes regretted ever opening his door whenever there was a knock. Well, the first time didn’t count, Hagrid quite literally burst the door down when he knocked— not to mention that Harry didn’t even really answer it in the first place.
In the first place, he says. Technically, he thinks. All I’m hearing is bitching.
Hm, all Harry heard was a parasite.
Parasite!? Of all the things that could’ve possibly ran through your head, PARASITE!?
He supposed a whiny bitch also fit, but Harry didn’t want to seem like he was copying from a lesser brain.
How is it that you’ve driven me to the point where I RELATE TO MORTALS!?
“You know,” Cedric’s doppelganger spoke up, “I’m honestly not sure what concerns me more. The fact that you two end up just having conversations by yourself inside of his head, or the fact that an entity feared by many bows down to the whims of a child.”
Harry tilted his head, yes, he could see how either were concerning. Well, both if he were to be completely honest with himself. However, it completely sounded like a problem that wasn’t his. If he was being entirely, one hundred percent, transparent with both himself and Death, well. The vampire could just go fuck himself with his concerns.
He really could, I mean, did either of us ask? Or anyone for that matter?
No one asked for that opinion either.
Why, we were bonding, we had a thing going, why must you do this?
Harry sipped his tea.
“Cedric,” Harry finally spoke. “Was many things. A friend, a companion, a competitor, a mentor; hell, even a bloody crush at one point in my life. Dark times, very dark times indeed. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he was kind and smart for his year. Good at Quidditch as well, but he was simply someone on a pedestal in the end. Unfortunately, no one quite lives up to that vision.”
The young immortal could still remember the fallout when everything came to a head, it was brutal, and he was truly surprised that nobody ended up with a broken bone or some sort of injury. Well, it ended with more emotional scars than physical ones.
They had both been seen as some sort of being, a prize of sorts, or perhaps a character would be a more accurate descriptor. Harry fell into that trap of seeing the other as nothing more than a kind, hardworking boy.
Just the same, Cedric couldn’t see past the ‘good and stable’ boy-who-lived.
Their friendship was quick to crumble when neither of them could quite grasp that the other wasn’t the vision they held. Harry had been quick to move on from that vision, Cedric however… he was never quite able to shed the skin others had donned unto him. It certainly didn’t help when the ‘golden boy’ had praised him the way others saw him. It had been far too late by the time Harry realized. The pedestal had risen, and the weight had grown heavier.
If that were all there was to their story, Harry wouldn’t have felt as near guilty as he did.
A debt of love, as ironic as it was.
They had competed, bonded, became friends, and then breached the line of emotions that probably should have never been crossed between the two of them. It became a tale of heartache once the two of them lost the excitement of something so new.
Cedric needed stability and the maturity of someone his age. Harry was beginning a war and was fourteen. He had barely even thought of anything past holding hands at that point, let alone thinking about how best to coordinate a long-distance relationship. Neither of them understood the other, and both fell into the trap of expectations that they weren’t quite ready to be expected of.
If only it had ended with a simple farewell.
If only someone hadn’t come across their fallout.
If only Harry’s reputation didn't quite have the kickback to other people as it did.
Harry owed Cedric many things, but the other would never call upon those debts. For all of the man being beyond his image set in the eyes of others, he truly was kind. He understood, perhaps far more than he should’ve, and he never blamed Harry a bit.
“Well, it matters little now. If Cedric ever comes across this state and we bump into each other, then we’ll just get ourselves a drink and bond over shared history.” Harry tilted his near empty cup, wondering what the politest way he could say ‘fuck off’ would be. “Any more questions, or is my evening finally going to be free of you?”
“You’re hostile to us.” The one blonde that was said to have a southern charm to him, what was his name again? Jared? Jack? Jasper? Jasper sounded right.
“That’s not a question.”
Really, how droll.
Like Death was one to talk, Harry could still remember how many hours he had to spend listening to the deity drone on and on about one specific event in history because he didn’t like how someone died. It was over six hundred years ago, the woman didn’t choose to be stabbed, get over it!
She could’ve had a grander death if she had just turned right instead of left! She could’ve died under a collapsing building two days later!
“SHE WAS BLOODY ON THE WAY TO GET GROCERIES, STOP WHINING ABOUT HOW SHE COULD’VE DIED AND JUST BE HAPPY THAT SHE STILL MADE THE NEWS! GODS BLOODY FUCK, YOU’RE WORST THAN A BLOODY CAT THAT THINKS IT’S BOWL IS EMPTY!” Harry threw his hands in the air, not caring as his cup flew out of his grasp and shattered on the ground. “FUCK IT! EVERYONE OUT!”
Harry waved his hand, the wards forcing all of the vampires out of his house as he stomped his way to his bedroom. He was set to go to school tomorrow, he could handle the resident blood addicts then, but for now he was turning his brain off and going to bed.
The collapsing building would’ve made a better headline.
“I DON’T CARE!”
It was a long time before Harry was actually able to get any sleep that night.
“I swear to everything unholy, if one of you bulldozes their way into my house during my evenings or stalks me during my classes, I’m leaning how to neuter you.”
Sam blinked heavily, “Hi Harry, nice to see you, Harry. What the fuck, Harry?”
“That’s my name, unfortunately for you, if you say it three times then I won’t disappear.” The teen plopped onto one of the many tables sitting outside of the wannabe werewolf’s house. It was decently built, despite its appearance. The foundation was solid, and there were no leaks or drafts. “I’m your problem now, there’s no return receipt. Unless you want to do something like my headmaster and leave me out on someone’s doorstep in the middle of the night.”
“Many things to unpack there, not touching them.” Sam, very smartly, ignored the young boy’s dramatics in favor of continuing whatever woodworking that he was doing.
Harry watched as the man whittled a small handful of wood. “How do you make vampires uninterested in you, or better yet, how do you kill seven well known people and get away with it?”
Sam paused, staring at Harry with an unamused face before actually thinking about the meaning behind his questions.
“Those leeches,” It was a term Harry didn’t think he would use toward a vampire, it sounded far too much like mudblood in his books. Then again, he had absolutely zero knowledge in either culture, so for all he knew it was a bloody compliment. Or at least the better insult to use. “They won’t leave you alone?”
Harry hummed glancing at the woman who entered and hid her face. “Who’s that?”
“Emily, I mentioned her when we first met. Don’t avoid the question,” Sam made a face, it was similar to the one Remus used to make whenever Sirius would tell a story about a past prank. A little guilt, but mostly love. “Brat.”
Ah, he’s settled on brat. You’ll never be rid of that name now.
Fuck off, at least it’s better than the name you tried to introduce yourself as, Mort.
I detest existing. How. How have you made Death hate its existence?
Harry rolled off of the table, marching himself over to Emily and summoned the pie he made last night. He wasn’t expecting to meet the lady today, but at least he made a nice dessert the night before, and it was untouched.
“Greetings.” Harry held out his pie. It was a good pie. Strawberry Rhubarb with a chocolate drizzle over the top. “It tastes best cold with a scoop of ice cream.”
Emily looked up briefly, before ducking her head with a soft smile, still hiding her face. “That’s very kind of you, will you be staying for dinner?”
Harry tilted his head; the scar wasn’t too horrendous. It wasn’t something that a quick salve wouldn’t be able to fix. Hell, it wasn’t even pulsing or bleeding anymore, it healed quite nicely.
“I’m going to be blunt.”
Harry could hear the scraping of the Sam’s chair as he stood, and the tense breath that Emily quickly took.
“Do you want that healed? Cause otherwise if you’re trying to hide it for my comfort or anything, then I think it looks badass as fuck.” The reluctant Master of Death set the pie on the counter, “I don’t know how it happened, you don’t even have to think about telling me if you don’t want to, but I can get you a salve that’ll have it healed in about ten to twelve hours. Might itch a little bit, don’t scratch it though. If it doesn’t bother you though, then let me just say that I’m not going to freak out about it. I’ve been given and seen far worse; you don’t need to hide if you think I’ll be scared of it.”
Emily shudders, an attempt not to sob outright, and she grasped his hands into hers. “You can make it go away?”
“Like it was never there in the first place.”
Harry wasn’t prepared for the woman to nearly crush him in bear hug from the front, nor was he prepared for the absolute bone crushing hug he got from behind courtesy of Sam. He was never offering anything to anyone again, and he was taking his pie back.
If that’s true, then say it out loud.
…
That’s what I thought.
Harry hoped that Life stole him from Death.
DO NOT GIVE THEM IDEAS!