|The world is not beautiful, therefore it is. (dorrie6) wrote in emotionalperil,|
@ 2006-01-16 07:47:00
|Entry tags:||browse:fanfiction, character:harry, fandom:harry potter|
Something Small, Harry Potter, Harry
Original poster: dorrie6
Title: Something Small
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13 for darkness
Disclaimer: The characters and universe presented in this story belong to JK Rowling.
Note: Four drabbles strung together, 400 words. Originally posted 3/19/04.
"Do you ever think about it, Potter?" Draco whispered, his lips at Harry's ear.
Harry stepped away, brow furrowed. "Think about what?"
Draco followed. "Power. Destruction. Being a Dark Lord."
"I'll never be like Voldemort,"
Draco smirked. "Voldemort was an idiot. That's not what I mean."
"What do you mean, Malfoy?"
"I just-." Draco licked his lips. "It could be... beautiful. All that destruction." His voice was low and thick. "Holding the world in your hand, knowing you could crush it with a word." His eyes burned. "Haven't you ever thought about it?"
"No," Harry snapped, turning away.
Sometimes when Ron is talking, Harry wonders what it would be like to reach out with his mind and press on the side of his head. Gentle at first, no more than a feather's touch to Ron. He wonders then how it would feel to push a little harder, to watch Ron's temple indent gracefully until the pressure finally cracked his skull. He wonders how Ron's face would look... horror mixed with fascination... adrenalin so strong he couldn't tell fear from pleasure.
His hand reaches out to brush Ron's face, and he grins, laughing as Ron's eyes squint in confusion.
"I'll do it."
Draco tilted his head. "You'll do what, Potter?"
"You know." Harry frowned.
"Just." Harry looked away. "Small. Something small."
Draco laughed. "Potter, there is no small. Do you think the universe knows the difference between a flobberworm and Weasley?" His nose wrinkled. "Perhaps that's a poor example..."
Draco sighed. "Don't fool yourself, Potter. You're either in-"
"I'm in. But still. Something small. Small to me."
"Okay." Draco's eyes glittered. "So, what's the spell?"
"I don't need a spell."
Looking back, Harry thinks he should have gone slower. It hadn't felt right at all.
Sometimes when Hermione looks at him, Harry wonders if she'll ask, and what he'd say if she did.
It started slowly... the Malfoys, then other former Death Eaters, some who'd only been suspected. The Prophet had suggested some sort of plague left by Voldemort to punish his followers in the event of his death. When the Ministry ordered the families of the victims into custody, nobody objected. Better safe than sorry, they all agreed.
Harry takes Hermione's hand, smiling shyly, feeling her questions wash away with his touch. He closes his eyes.
"What are you thinking about, Harry?"