Chapter Six
Original Chapter by Bittersweet Alias (with additional content by Excentrykemuse)
desire something: to feel a need or desire for something
Need
When morning came, Harry was cuddled up to Micah. He was vaguely aware of what had occurred the night before and that he gave into the months of pleading from Micah. Oh, how simple it was for Micah to take him in that moment in time. If Graham Micah Montague only knew.
Harry sighed inwardly, he couldn’t fight it. He wanted it and what better way than to have Micah take it then? He was a lot more – well, not masculine, but more forcefully masculine – and demanding. He took no shit and he allowed no one to fuck with him. Harry liked that. He was… well, dominant. But Harry knew that this was a onetime thing, Micah would now be bored, the chase was gone, he won, and there was no reason for Micah to keep on.
That was kind of sad. Harry rather liked his company. And he pointedly ignored the small voice in the back of his head saying that that wasn’t all it was.
Micah’s eyes fluttered open and he was in absolute awe about what had happened with Harry. What made Harry agree to such? He could have refused, Micah would have backed off, but for some reason, he hadn’t.
Harry followed suit and he shifted until he was sitting up. He winced at the pain he was feeling after it had all been said and done. He heaved a sigh and ran his fingers through his tangly hair.
Micah came up, arms curled around him the entire time. Lips met his neck and Harry’s eyes widened momentarily, and he shivered at the touch of his neck. “Where are you going for Christmas?” The older teen rasped out gruffly.
Harry glanced sideways at Micah, he really did have a gorgeous face, didn’t he? “Remus Lupin and…. my godfather.”
Micah didn’t bother to comment about that godfather being an ex-convict and instead he nodded.
Harry didn’t ask what he was doing. The young teen knew very well where he was going and what he was up too, considering Harry had been part of the plans for the young Death Eaters. For one Micah would be taking the Dark Mark and another, Azkaban would be compromised very soon. Harry wondered briefly why Micah would even care.
He got what he wanted, right?
Gasping, Micah’s hands went south, gliding along Harry’s thin stomach causing his body to react immediately.
Harry relaxed against his bare chest. Micah wrapped his fingers around Harry’s erection and sank his lips into the boy’s mouth.
“Mmm…..” Harry kissed him rigorously before letting go and shifting until he was able to bend down and take Micah in his mouth, getting an unearthly groan from the wolf-like Slytherin.
“Oh, fucking hell!” Micah hadn’t expected that and placed his hand on top of Harry’s head and clenched his mass of black hair.
Harry knew how to suck cock. He may have been a virgin but he wasn’t all innocent. Bill had seen to that before Harry had found out Bill was two-timing him with Fleur. Or rather cheating on Fleur with him. The entire situation was just too confusing.
Harry made sure to get the moans he desired from Micah by deep-thrusting him the best he could. Micah squeezed and pulled on Harry’s cock with the rhythm of what his mouth was doing to him.
Micah easily came first, yanking Harry’s hair and holding him down until all the hot white liquid swam into his mouth. It was salty and nasty but there was something within all this that triggered Harry’s own orgasm, causing him to whimper and squirm as he released all over Micah’s pumping hand. Harry gagged and spluttered, hand coming up to hold his mouth as he quivered and peered into Micah’s eyes.
The Slytherin was still foggy and trying to recover.
A cloth was conjured and Harry coughed into it, when Micah’s mouth brushed against his ear and nibbled on his lobe, otherwise nothing was said between the two of them.
Micah left Harry’s room quickly, and the raven boy was up and staggered to the bathroom with a sheet wrapped around his body. He took a quick shower and was dressed scandalously. No matter how much his arse was burning he wouldn’t show it, although he dreaded sitting down on the wooden benches in the Great Hall. He cringed inwardly at the thought. Perhaps he shouldn’t have wanted it so hard by the time he’d gotten used to it.
He sighed as he reflected over what happened. Had he been in heat? He frowned deeply. Perhaps he had been and if he was… oh dear.
He was one male in two hundred thousand that could have a child and it all had something to do with the blood adoption that occurred. That was one of the biggest side effects, you could be the carrier of a hormonal gene that would cause a male to become pregnant. Because of the complexity of male genetics, only three out of four fertilized whatever-a-pregnant-male-produced-that-wasn’t-a-female-egg would be viable pregnancies. Two out of three would be male, due to the fact that both parents had an XY chromosome. If two a YY chromosome was formed, it would result in a natural miscarriage and the expecting parents would be none the wiser.
That was the biggest reason that Harry kept pushing Micah away. He could not ruin Voldemort’s plans now. Not with a pregnancy. And that didn’t even get into the convoluted rituals and rules concerning pureblood legitimacy. A pureblood, if its pureblood parents weren’t bonded less than two months after its conception, would be considered a half-blood and usually illegitimate. And Voldemort, the man he had come to see as a father, would not accept an illegitimate heir who would be considered the product of a pureblood only by blood adoption and a “Muggle” (as all unknown sires were considered).
He sighed and slipped into a pair of blood red dragon-hide trousers that were flared out and laid against his hips molding his skin together into something spectacular, and a flashy satin red button up with black buttons. Harry had it tucked in and his hair brushed out and flying down his shoulders. He was wearing black heeled boots, unconventional really but Harry really enjoyed being able to dress flashy. All those years in Dudley’s old hand-me-downs. He was now a little spoiled. He had a silver bar dangling down in one ear while the rest of the mini rings locked on the top part. He strapped a silver bracelet to his wrist and walked out.
He flicked his hand sending everything he owned into his trunks and bolted it shut. After a flurry of wards and spells to keep bastards like Dumbledore and his lackeys out of his trunk he made to leave the Prefect Common Room when he was stopped.
“Harry?”
Spinning around, Harry’s eyes narrowed when he saw Hermione. “What?” He asked turning his voice to neutral.
She was floundered. “Uhm, are you really leaving?”
What kind of question was that? He thought in disgust. Harry didn’t bother to answer her and instead he walked away.
He met Luna and Neville and sat between them.
“Harry!” Hermione squeaked. “Stop ignoring me!” she practically shrieked getting the attention of those around the Great Hall.
“Hey, Luna, pass me the French toast?”
She smiled sweetly and did as he asked.
“Well, if you won’t talk to me, then I’ll do the talking and you can listen!” Hermione said sitting down in front of him.
He glared nastily at her before going back to his breakfast. So much for a good breakfast, he thought to himself. He had tried to remain neutral with her and not get into it but she was now going to test him and he had a grand feeling that Dumbledore put her up to this. If she was the intelligent witch that everyone thought she was, she’d leave well enough alone.
Obviously, everyone was wrong.
“Really, Harry, this is getting out of hand! We said we were sorry and you should accept that. We’ve been through a lot together and you can’t just give it up for this.”
All of Gryffindor house was watching curiously. No one had any idea what was going on. They’d never been informed, Ron’s ears were pink and Ginny was watching him, hoping that he would listen to Hermione, who was evidently right in her opinion, but Harry simply gazed at her once without any emotion in his eyes before turning back to his breakfast.
Hermione was left gaping and Ron was scowling out loud.
Micah’s morning would have been nearly perfect, catching sight of Harry had immediately sparked a possessive twitch inside of him. A demand told him to go straight to him and claim him even though he knew that wasn’t possible. But to see him walking in those damn tight Muggle things drove him irrationally wild.
It was nice to watch, and he knew he wasn’t the only one watching. No, this was not what ruined it. It was that stupid disgusting little Mudblood believing she had a right to demand Harry. What he wouldn’t give to torture her for a few good hours.
How dare she even converse with what was his! That Muggleborn rubbish.
… Wait… his? Did he consider Harry his?
Something inside of him demanded that the answer was obvious. Harry was his, had been since the moment he laid eyes on him the Prefect’s compartment on the Hogwarts Express, and no other person would ever touch the beauty. But another part tried to wave it off, attempting to admit that he was just a nice plaything… but Micah couldn’t say that. Not anymore. Harry was no waste of time and he was no toy.
The instinct inside of him, werewolf or no, was calling out. Micah didn’t think he possessed such traits that could be so strong and for once he realized how wrong he was.
“Harry, come on! Be reasonable!”
“Fuck off,” Harry said finally having had enough. He finished his breakfast with an earful to boot. How fucking annoying.
Ron growled at him. “You think you’re so great, Potter!”
Harry smirked and looked over his shoulder. “Greater than you’ll ever be, you pathetic sycophant.”
His mouth gaped open. “Wh- what? How dare you!”
“HARRY!” Hermione admonished. Harry however continued to ignore her and left the hall, Neville and Luna having followed. “I demand you stop it with this pettiness! It’s gone on long enough, you’ve punished us enough!”
Harry, Neville, and Luna were already up.
Cormac McClaggan was watching the byplay with a shrewd suspicion. “What did you arseholes do?”
Hermione flinched, Ginny glared, and Ron scowled. “We didn’t do anything!”
Harry passed Cormac by, placed a hand on his muscular shoulder. “You’ll find out soon enough.” He squeezed it and walked away, leaving Cormac to stare after him along with most of the gay or bisexual wizards and all of the witches in the hall.
This caused Micah’s eyes to narrow dangerously. What was that all about?
Harry boarded the train with his two real friends. “We’ll get a seat in the back for us,” Neville said grinning. “We won’t let Ron and Hermione sit with us.”
Harry smiled. “Thanks, guys!”
“Go and play with the dark wolf!” Luna chirped hugging him and rushing off.
Harry froze and glared. “What do you know?”
“That the dark wolf won’t stop staring at the darker angel?”
He wanted to blush but instead he stuck out his tongue. Harry had no actual reply to that. It was kind of nice to know, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up.
Neville blushed and chuckled. “Come on now!”
Luna beamed and squeaked. “Right o!”
Harry shook his head good naturedly. He wished he had been friends with Neville and Luna years ago. The teen headed toward the Prefect’s Compartment in deep thought. The door jerked open before he could open it himself and he was face to face with Micah, whose gaze bore right into his own.
Harry cocked his head to the side and gave him a sweet smile before moving past. Micah followed his movements with a domineering sort of expression that sent a chill up Harry’s spine.
“Hey, Potter-Black, you can sit with us if you don’t want to sit with that Muggleborn riff-raff!” Adrian Pucey called out, interrupting Harry’s amused thoughts and Micah’s gaze.
“Thanks, Adrian.” He took a seat between Blaise and Draco.
Everything was quiet between the lone Gryffindor and the rest of the Slytherins. Micah however caught an exchanged glance from Blaise to Harry.
“Going to your father’s for Yuletide?” he asked, a look in his eye.
Wait, what? Harry was an orphan, and … How did the two know each other?
Harry laughed openly. “Of course, he said I would be there, didn’t he?”
Blaise winked at him and Harry flashed him one of those innocent smirks. This didn’t please Micah in the least little bit.
Hermione came in and her eyes widened when she saw Harry with Draco and the Slytherins.
“Stop goggling and sit the hell down,” Micah snapped from behind making her jump like a frightened cat..
Claire frowned at Micah. “You don’t have to be so mean.”
“I don’t have time to be nice,” he said sourly. “Let’s get started, I will not repeat myself.” He slammed the door, literally making all the houses but Slytherin jump, Harry being an exception. “Being nice wastes time and so does this conversation.”
The Prefect Meeting was over ten minutes later. Micah was the first to leave the compartment, no surprise there. Harry was up and Hermione was staring at him wondering whether she should cross over to him or not. Harry turned away from her and thanked the Slytherins and left before Hermione could make up her pathetic mind.
Harry felt Micah’s movements before it happened, and he allowed the arm to wrap securely around his waist and the strength to pull him back into the clear compartment. Harry smiled and looked up at Micah as he slammed the door shut. He was glared at and Harry snickered before responding with a kiss to the side of his mouth, which made Micah’s eyes soften.
“Hi to you to.”
Micah scowled. “What was that all about?”
“What? Sitting with the Slytherins?”
Micah shook his head. “No, I know why you want to do that… you and that Gryffindor blockhead!”
Harry blinked. Oh! Micah was jealous! Oh my, Harry wanted to laugh at him but instead, he took sympathy on Micah and nipped him on the chin. “Cormac asked me what they did and I said he’d find out soon enough.”
“Did you have to touch him?” Micah growled hotly.
“Well… no, but I wanted the effect to sink into him. It got his attention.”
Micah glared. “I don’t like it!”
Harry brought his hands up and cupped Micah’s cheeks. “What are you saying, Micah?” It was the first time, Harry had ever addressed him as Micah and not Romeo, except for when they were making love. Could he even call it that? He pondered. To him it was making love.
The Slytherin hissed. “I’m saying that I don’t like anyone touching you!”
“Why is that?”
Micah snarled and squeezed Harry closer until their bodies practically melded together. He ran his hand up Harry’s side, getting a hesitant giggle as a reward. He snagged the ends of Harry’s black hair and nothing was said for a few minutes.
Harry simply rested in Micah’s arms, wondering what was going on. “You’re warm,” Harry murmured randomly as he placed his nose into Micah’s neck and breathed him in.
Micah resisted the urge to shiver, not from being cold but from Harry’s mere actions. Instead he brought his hand up through Harry’s hair and placed his lips against the boy’s ear. “You – are going nowhere.”
Harry hummed and then bit Micah on the neck playfully. “Is that your way of telling me that you want me?”
Micah growled. “What the hell do you think?”
Harry laughed and brought his mouth up Micah’s neck and nipped his ear. “That’s all I wanted to know, but be warned, Remus Lupin loves to hug me as does my godfather.”
Micah scowled again and thrust him back by his hair and crushed their lips together in a rough and sensual kiss of demand.
He was sitting between Neville and Luna when the train began to slow. Peering out the window, the cold mountains and dead greenery had disappeared completely and was replaced by the platform concrete and a hundred or more parents standing and waiting for their children.
Putting away the shield book Severus had given him; he stood, stretched, and ducked down to peer through the window as the train came to a full stop.
Remus was already there and Harry couldn’t help but notice a significant difference in him from the first time he had ever seen the werewolf. His dark brown hair was shoulder length and pulled back by a leather band. The scars from his past that usually riddled his face had diminished greatly and they suited him, giving him a rather handsome characteristic rather than the former nasty looking marks that might have haunted him for life. He was tall, broad shouldered, and had put on a lot more weight.
Sirius and Remus were doing better since they switched sides with Harry. They followed him… for him and not because he was James Potter’s son. Both men had always leaned toward the dark but for the love of their friends they remained Light or, rather, neutral.
It was why everyone had been suspicious of Remus during the first war. He had no interest in the Light or Dark but because of his friends, he chose their side by default.
It was just like that, Remus chose his side because of him and Sirius followed along. It also helped that Dumbledore was a lying conniving bastard.
It was freezing when Harry stepped off the train. The wind picked up, spiraling around and whipping through his hair and down his neck. The satin shirt he was wearing was terribly thin and it made him shiver.
Remus was already on him, curling his arms around Harry and drawing him close.
“Rem!” Harry chirped, burying his face into the man’s shoulder.
“Merlin! You’re freezing,” he hissed in horror.
“I need a leather jacket,” Harry said. “Cloaks look like shit with this!”
Remus chuckled and shook his head as he took a step back to look at Harry. “You look gorgeous!”
Harry blushed. “Thanks.” It was nice to be complimented by someone who didn’t have a sexual instinct in mind.
It was then that something soared in the air; instinctively Harry caught it with one hand much like the Seeker he was and peered over to see Micah staring at him from where he was by the luggage compartment.
“Who’s that?” Remus whispered as Harry fingered the material once before sliding it on. It smelled just like Micah.
“I will tell you later,” Harry murmured barely audible.
Remus nodded, cupped Harry’s cheek and winked. “I’ll get your stuff.”
Harry smiled and watched him go, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of the cloak Micah had thrown at him. Their eyes met again but it was very brief because Micah was now with his parents, Draco and his parents were with them.
“Hadrian!” a gruff voice called and he turned again to see Micah staring directly at him. He couldn’t help but gulp slightly, wondering what the Head Boy was doing calling out to him. Before he knew it, a stern looking Micah was standing in front of him, pulling the cloak more tightly around him. “You’ll catch your death,” he said by way of an explanation.
“Are you concerned about my health?” Harry couldn’t help but quip, smiling brightly. He peeked over Micah’s shoulders to see if Remus had returned, but instead was greeted with the entire group, which had followed his – well, whatever-the-hell-Micah-was.
“What’s with the Muggle clothes anyway?” Micah continued, not answering.
“They drive my father insane,” he answered off handedly, not realizing that he had referred to the Dark Lord as his father.
Lucius Malfoy was looking at him speculatively, clearly not recognizing the boy of fourteen who had attended the Quidditch World Cup.
“Your father?” Draco asked, voicing the surprise he had felt at Blaise’s earlier comment.
Harry nodded. “Yes.” When Draco only stared at him, he laughed slightly. “Look at my face. Only being blood adopted by two people could completely supersede a person’s magical and biological features.”
Micah was staring at him now, quite openly.
“I think I’m even technically a pureblood, come to think of it. Are you Micah’s father?” he asked as he looked at a startled looking Caelius Montague.
The Montague patriarch, however, didn’t have a chance to answer as Remus had emerged from the train, his eyes searching the emptying platform frantically.
“Hadrian Muliphein Gaunt!” he called in exasperation, using the name Voldemort and Sirius had officially given Harry upon blood adopting him. Of course, he couldn’t use it at Hogwarts. Dumbledore’s hands were a little too sticky when it came to Voldemort, and he would know that the last living Gaunt was in fact, Tom Marvolo Riddle.
“Gaunt?” Lucius queried, his eyebrows shooting up. He had thought the Gaunts, the last straggling line of Slytherin’s line, had died out decades before he was born. However, this wizard before him was a Gaunt, of all things. His lips thinned, his mind racing at all of the possibilities. Where had this heir been hiding for the past fifteen years?
Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m over here, Remus!” he called to the Werewolf.
“I turn my back for five seconds, and you go wandering off just like your godfather. You’re a Black through and through if I ever saw one.”
The boy couldn’t help but beam at him, though Remus sobered when he took in the sight of Harry’s death eater companions. An uncomfortable silence fell over the group, only Harry and Remus being aware that they were all members of the Dark Sect.
“Well, it helps that I am a Black, then.”
“And practically a Slytherin like the lot of them,” Remus added in.
Draco gasped, clearly startled. First Potter was a Black. Now he was a Gaunt, and a Slytherin on top of it?
“Father claims I have too many self-deprecating Gryffindor qualities to be a Slytherin,” Harry responded, desperately trying to break the tension. “Was Andromeda Black a Slytherin?” he inquired, looking directly at Lucius, who he knew was her brother-in-law.
He inclined his head. “I believe she was, Mr. Gaunt, but I haven’t spoken with her since before she married a Muggle-born.”
Harry nodded sagely. At Remus’ confused look, he stated, “Tonks was asking after you, by the way, a few weeks ago.”
Micah just looked confused. “Cousin Andromeda’s daughter. Hufflepuff. More annoying than Granger, and that’s saying something.”
Narcissa Malfoy, who had just finished saying goodbye to Mrs. Nott, had now approached the group in time to hear her husband inquire, “And which line of Blacks do you hail from?”
Narcissa’s deep blue eyes turned her eyes toward Harry and took in his form. He was tall and graceful, a seeker build, which was not completely unusual for Black men. His hair was black and fell in waves past his shoulders, his face heart shaped, his eyes an unusual dark green, and his nose –
She gasped. “You look almost like Regulus when he was about Draco’s age.”
Harry smiled sadly. “He was my blood uncle; I never knew him.”
“Of course not,” Narcissa murmured. “Sirius blood adopted you, then? I never saw him being paternal, but—“ She glanced at her husband, who took the hint.
“Narcissa, may I introduce Hadrian Muliphein—“ he glanced quickly at Remus for confirmation, not wanting to confuse the name of the star that was undoubtedly his adopted Black heritage, “—Gaunt, Heir to the House of Black.” Although his eyes didn’t show it, his mind was whirring away. Sirius had clearly performed a dark, albeit a legal, blood adoption on this child, along with an unknown Gaunt. Not matter if he was a Muggleborn before, which Lucius sincerely doubted as a Gaunt would never lower himself to even look twice at a half-blood unless they were the Heir to an ancient family already, his bloodlines were now impeccable. It was unfortunate that he was dressed in Muggle clothes, although Lucius could clearly tell they were expensive, but apart from that, he was a companion to his son and Micah Gaunt.
Who was this boy? And who had he once been?
“We’ve already met,” Harry responded politely, “but it is a pleasure, of course.”
Narcissa smiled kindly at him, and Harry realized that she was possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. “Well, whatever my family’s past differences with Sirius, know that we would be proud to consider you family.”
“Toujours Pur,” Harry responded, stating the family moto and her smile widened.
Draco just looked between his mother and his once-school enemy completely in shock.
“Are you seeing my cousin over Yule?” Mrs. Malfoy inquired again. When Harry nodded his head, she added, “Be sure to give him my best wishes and please inform him that I would hope that in the near future we could mend our differences.”
Lucius looked approvingly at his wife, clearly wanting to cultivate ties to a dark family as ancient as the Gaunts.
“I’ll see you both the start of next term,” Harry broke the silence, noticing that Caelius Montague was the only one who hadn’t really spoken to him and wondering what sort of wizard would have raised Micah. “Keep my secret, if Dumbledore found out—“ he shivered at the thought.
“Keep warm,” Micah growled, “otherwise that Weasley will cry and we’ll never hear the end of it.”
Harry couldn’t help but choke back a laugh. “Maybe I’ll knock off just so I can come back as a ghost and see the reaction,” he joked, trying to picture Ginny’s supposedly heart-wrenching sobs. Served her right, he thought. “Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, Mr. Montague,” he said in farewell, before turning from the now dispersing group, Remus staying behind briefly to contemplate exactly what he had just witnessed.
However, the silence was not to last.
“Harry!”
The boy’s eyes narrowed suddenly and he whirled around to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley staring at him with confusion, most likely witnessing him talking to the two dark families. Ron was glowering at him from behind and Ginny was blushing and looking anywhere but him.
“What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be out of the castle,” Mrs. Weasley squeaked. “And, dear, what in the world happened to you? You changed! Your hair, it’s awful!”
In those few seconds, Harry wanted nothing more than to slap her. She was pathetic, honestly. “It’s called Blood Adoption and I am going home with my godfathers,” he said as neutrally as he possibly could.
She looked scandalized, her eyes widening. “B… blood adoption?”
“That’s right,” Harry said wondering if she made the connection that she now had no more funding from him. Mr. Weasley was staring in confusion like he had no idea what was going on. “I like the way I look, definitely not so boy-who-lived-ish.”
She looked like she swallowed a lemon. Yep, she definitely knew now that she was cut off. She forced a smile. “But Harry, you were never given permission to do this! Do you think it was wise to go behind the Headmaster’s back?” She reached out for him but Remus purposely stepped in front.
“Ah, Molly, Arthur, nice to see you two again. Harry’s Blood Adoption is perfectly legal and why should the Headmaster have a say in his happiness?” Remus queried innocently.
“It’s the right thing, Remus,” she said wide eyed. “Do you have any idea the danger he is in?”
“I think Harry knows well enough, probably more than you. Now then, Harry and I will be on our way it’s cold and he needs out of it,” he said lightly.
Mrs. Weasley gawked at him for a moment and Mr. Weasley sighed as if Remus‘ words had suddenly aged him. “Perhaps we should take him home with us, it’s a bit safer.” He was looking torn between his wife and Remus. Wondering what was with the false cheer.
During this time, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. Weasley was in the dark about everything. He wouldn’t be at all surprised.
“That’s quite enough. He’s mine, Arthur,” Remus said pleasantly. “His godfather would be very angry if I didn’t show up at the cottage with him.” He turned to Harry, held out his hand. “Let’s go, Harry, Padfoot is probably bouncing off the walls.”
Harry snickered. “I’d like to see that!” He curled his hand into Remus’ and quickly disappeared.
“WOOHOO!” Before Harry could even touch ground, he was lifted in the air by welcoming arms and spun around.
“Oi! Siriiiii, dizzzyyyy!” Harry groused but he couldn’t help but laugh at his hyperactive godfather.
Remus chuckled. “There, I brought him home. Not without a run in first with the Malfoys and Montagues and, if that wasn’t enough, then the Weasleys.”
Sirius squeezed Harry and scowled at Remus. “Those backstabbing traitors!” he exclaimed, and Harry hoped he meant the Weasleys.
“I think we’re the traitors now,” Remus mused.
“Their fault,” Sirius said dryly. Finally, he put Harry down on his feet beamed. “Gorgeous!” He said cupping the boy’s cheeks. “You can’t get any more beautiful and it’s all because you look like me now.”
“Full of yourself!” Remus teased as Harry snickered and beamed up at him.
Harry poked him in the belly, where he was ticklish.
“Oomph.” He was grabbed again and hugged for his tease.
Remus was smiling wide, his golden eyes twinkled. “I’ll be fixing dinner!”
“Narcissa Malfoy actually thought I looked like your brother,” Harry offered and noticed the sad glean that entered his eyes. “She sends her best wishes and hopes that she’ll be able to mend bridges with you, now that you have a Gaunt as your blood adopted heir,” he snickered.
“How?” Sirius queried and Remus popped his head out of the still-Muggle kitchen.
“My fault. I thought Hadrian had left the platform and I called out his full name. I don’t really think of him being Harry Potter, or even Harry Potter-Black, at all.”
Sirius sighed.
“I like my name,” Harry offered. “You and Tom gave it to me,” he smiled softly.
“That we did,” Sirius answered, tapping his very-Black nose. “Hadrian Muliphein Gaunt of the House of Black.” He sighed, eyeing his godson’s hopeful expression. He knew Harry didn’t like playing a lie at Hogwarts, how he reveled in the Dark Arts in private, how he wanted to be wanted for himself and himself alone.
He pondered Harry a little more. Yes, he was a Black and Narcissa was the last Pureblood Black not currently in Azkaban. She was family, and family was the one thing Harry had always wanted, a group of people who would accept him at least, and perhaps grow to know him and care for him in time. “Narcissa Malfoy, eh?”
Harry nodded.
“I’ll write her a letter after dinner,” he conceded and Harry tackled him in a large hug.
It was nice to be home. Sirius, Remus, and Harry lived in a two bedroom cottage in the back of Tom Riddle’s gardens of his manor. It was a sea green with cookie cutter windows. The inside had so much wild colour. It was Sirius’s doing, but Harry knew Remus enjoyed it, as well.
Harry guessed he couldn’t blame Sirius, all those years in a damp dark cell of Azkaban would probably kick the colour into you. Harry’s bedroom was royal purple and black. It was much bigger than it looked on the outside. His room looked as though it was the whole entire cottage when he entered. He had a walk-in wardrobe that you could get lost in, a beautiful French Style bathroom. There was a mini library that revolved. Being Voldemort’s Heir definitely had its value when it came to the materialistic, and with magic and an army of house elves to act as carpenters, the former gardener’s cottage was no less resplendent than a small manor.
A small house elf named Narny took care of them and their needs.
Harry pushed his trunk into a corner and plopped down for a moment on the king sized bed. He closed his eyes, relishing the fact that he was now home and away from Dumbledore. The tension had been released from his body and he felt so much better.
If truth be told, Harry missed Micah and his solemn presence in his room. He was so different from anyone he had ever known, and Harry blushed to think that he reminded him of Voldemort and maybe that was why he liked him.
Shaking his head, Harry sat up, breathed out, and rolled his head around his neck. No Dumbledore, no Weasleys, and definitely no Hermione Granger.
The holiday began and it was a damn nice start. Although he knew what was lying ahead.
There was a tap at the door. “Little Cub! The Dark Lord wants to see you before dinner,” Sirius told him.
“Ooh.” Harry propped himself up on his elbows. “I suppose this has to do with the Death Eater Markings?”
“I think so; he didn’t tell me. I don’t know all this stuff. You’re the one who knows it all.”
Harry snickered. “Alright, give me five minutes.”
He knew what Tom wanted and he scowled. It was going to be rather hard to keep up a façade around them and he hoped that he didn’t get found out before he revealed himself. He didn’t want to spoil the plans.
Ah, well, the only one who would recognize him for anything was Micah and he was going to mask his scent to make it harder. No need to give himself away that easily.
Hmm, seeing Micah’s personality around the Death Eaters and most importantly the Dark Heir would be an amusing task. He couldn’t wait.
Excentryke's Musings 