The Meredith Series

Title: Arguments.
Author:sa_kun On LJ
Rating: PG-13
Prompt Set: 50.1
Prompt: 035, severe
Word Count: 917
Summary: Harry & Meredith talk.
Warnings: Arguing.
Notes:

Severe | 035 

-Damaging consequences.

 -x-

 “Sorry, Harry,” Meredith muttered, insincere but sheepish. “I didn't mean to.”

 Harry sighed and looked away. “You never do, Meredith. You never do... I don't know why I still get disappointed.”

 “Harry—”

 “No.” Harry shook his head. “Not this time. Straight to bed, no story, no dessert, and your sleepover at Severus' is cancelled.”

 Meredith's pale eyes flashed. “That's not fair!”

 “It is not supposed to be,” Harry returned snappishly. “Magic is something to treasure, not flaunt and use to taunt and belittle those without it! Until you learn better, I will continue to place restraints!”

 Huffing, the boy declared, “I'm too old for stories, anyway!”

 -x-

 That night, Harry curled up in his ratty old armchair in front of a crackling fire. He hadn't thought of his childhood, his...'destiny' in such a long time. He had almost forgotten how to. Meeting Charlie, discovering love, being treasured and wanted and wanting someone in return. Then Meredith arriving, and taking all of his attention. Like a normal human being, Harry had let himself be swept away by all that was happening and efficiently locked away his past and the feelings he associated with it.

 Meredith was nine years old.

 Meredith was a sweet boy, Slytherin through and through, like Charlie used to joke. Like Severus had said, he had been able to incorporate the magical components Harry had given him as an infant. And Meredith was a very magical child, he had an affinity for 'wish magic', and he had been able to bend it to suit his purposes from an early age.

 But recently, Meredith had developed a penchant for blackmailing other children in the neighbourhood. Muggle children. Subtly threatening them into doing what he wanted them to do. Harry didn't even know when the boy had got so out of control, or how he could have missed it, but he...

 Harry swallowed harshly. The fact that Charlie had left had probably something to do with it.

 There really was no way around it, and Harry was hurt, betrayed, disappointed. Because he couldn't help but feel that even though the child he had taken in had both his name and his magic, there was still that cruel 'Dursley streak' in him.

 -x-

 The next night, Harry sat down next to Meredith's head on the bed and cleared his throat.

 “When I was a student at Hogwarts, the Headmaster of those days once told me a story of another boy...”

 And Harry told him. Told him about a little boy called Tom Riddle, who had lived at an orphanage, bullied and pushed the other children around; stole from them, collected their treasures to be made his, gathered snakes and made them his guards and messengers. How he had opened the Chamber of Secrets, and caused a student to die, and managed to get another expelled because of it. How he schemed, plotted and assassinated to gather objects once owned by the Four Founders; how he split his soul into these objects.

 How he became the Dark Lord Voldemort. How he killed, slaughtered and destroyed; even Harry's own parents, and then it became painful. Because after that...after that it was Harry's history, and Harry hadn't spoken of that since Charlie had been the one patiently waiting and listening to him.

 How he had been bullied, belittled, mistreated and abused by the other children in his neighbourhood.

 Meredith's eyes were wide and childish.

 “Do you see, Meredith? If you continue on like this, then you will end up being no better than the Muggles who raised me.”

 -x-

 It was a gamble, telling Meredith, and Harry knew that, because if Meredith felt slighted, or took it the wrong way...thought Harry was patronising him...

 Not wanting to think about it, Harry picked up a quill and began writing.

Dear Charlie,

I love you.

Did I ever tell you that, when you were still here, living side by side with Meredith and me with that patience that never wore thin? I don't think I ever did, and now that I look back, on the time since you've been gone...why did you leave? Why did you go when I told you to? You never listened to me, and I loved that.

I don't really know why I'm writing. I don't even know if what I'm trying to say.

How is Romania?

Love, Harry.

PS. I shouldn't have sent this, should I?

When the response came, a week later, Harry's heart shattered all over again.

No, Harry, you shouldn't have.

Then, on the backside, I'll be home for Christmas.

When Meredith snatched it straight out of his hands, Harry didn't even try to stop him. His eyes large and watering, the boy murmured, “...I didn't think you talked...”

 Unable to face him, Harry turned away. “We...don't. Not so much.”

 “Is...is it okay that I do, Harry?”

 Harry nodded. “Of course it is. Our idiocy has nothing to do with you.”

 -x-

 Even though he had over two months to think about it, Harry never was able to figure out if it was because of what he had told Meredith about the Dark Lord and his past, or if it was because Charlie was coming home, and that the boy finally knew it was okay to talk with him, and that he shouldn't feel guilty for doing so: for craving it. But regardless of that Meredith's behaviour took a turn for the better.

Next>>>