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Because We Are Snakes	By : Setsuna24 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 44500 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 19
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any recognizable characters or materials I make no money from this story and its just written for fun

Chapter List
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Unedited
Still dont own HP... or The Prophecy 3 for that matter.
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Because We Are Snakes 27 – The Holidays

If there was one thing that could drive someone to murder, it would probably be the inability to have a moment of their own in a loud house.

As he had predicted the house was about to burst with the quantity of people coming and going as well as the amount of people living in it and therefore always there. It seemed the only Weasley not there in any given day was Percy and that only because he was siding with the Ministry and being a general ass and subbing his family. Even Charlie and Bill had made it for a couple of days to see their recovering father. The constant influx of order members was making him dizzy with their comings and goings and their dragging of unfamiliar and sometimes downright foul –in the case of Mundungus Fletcher- scents into the house.

‘Disgusting.’

Sometimes he had to fake a headache to escape to the bedroom he shared with Ron for an hour or two, just to find some quiet. Most of the time though the headache was very real and he needed to get the fuck out of the main living areas.

Finding a way to sneak out and have a good run in the park across the street where he could hunt something decent to eat was a near impossibility as there seemed to always be someone walking about at odd hours of the day and night. He was really starting to hate this holiday.

During one of his fake headache moments, Ginny decided to interrupt his ‘me time’ with her idiotic drama.

‘As if she didn’t already know what she had to do!’

He was well and truly done with this particular strain of annoying.

She was halfway through her sentence when he just raised his hand to stop her mid word and told her to “Hold that thought.”

Then, proceeded to walk out of the room, leaving her rooted to the spot in outraged confusion. Harry came back five minutes later with the twins in tow and blatantly informed them “Ginny’s Dark now and suffering the effects of The Sickness. You take care of this because I’m done.” Then he walked out of the room again closing the door behind him and directed his strategic retreat to the attic because he’ll rather be in Buckbeak’s company than anyone else’s at the moment.

‘At least the hippogriff doesn’t try to talk me into a fit of rage.’

And no, he was definitely not hiding, even though he stayed there for almost the entire afternoon until Hermione ventured into his solitude to call him down to dinner.

Late in the evening he was aware of the twins sneaking out Ginny to find her a safe place to practice some minor Dark magic to counteract the effect Light magic was having on her Dark core. He found himself sighing in envious resignation, if only people paid less attention to him… but it seemed Dumbledore must have told the adults to keep an eye on him or something because wherever he went eyes followed him.

The next morning they got roped into cleaning for the festivities, they would spend the week doing such according to Mrs. Weasley, and he got internally offended on behalf of the Black family history that their books and heirlooms were being put on bags and set outside to toss later. All those hundreds of years of family history, knowledge, and treasures being carelessly thrown out because they were deemed too Dark by a too Light family invading a Dark home.

He took a moment to seek out the creepy house elf who served the Black family and after enduring the crazy thing’s complains about his apparently questionable blood, tossed it a shrunk expanded trunk and told it to recover all the Black treasures, books and any other Black family things that had been taken out of the house since Walburga’s death and put them in there for safe keeping.
“Use any method necessary short of murder to recover the items.” He had told it.

He could do this for Sirius at the very least, because at some point that man had to come to his senses and realize these things could become useful in the future and knowledge should never be carelessly tossed aside.

The mad little beasty looked at him suspiciously, grabbed the shrunk trunk, and disappeared out of the hallway in which he had been ambushed by Harry. Harry was momentarily surprised that Kreacher had actually complied but chalked it up to the house elf having actually been wanting to save the possessions of its previous masters or it having to do with his being Sirius’ godson. Whatever it was the elf was not seen in the house for five days straight and on the sixth day Mundungus showed up to the house beaten up and left as soon as he came in when a house elf with a rolling pin hit him in the knee while he was standing too close to a display cabinet in the dining room.

His Dark Lord induced door dreams continued presenting themselves though increasing in number and detail as the days went by. It was almost blatant how Voldemort continued to bait him to go in search of whatever was hidden at the Department of Mysteries, at least to him. Harry was smart, he had some common sense, and after he opened his eyes to the world around him the summer his life changed along with his species he could spot a trap when he saw one. And this was so obviously a trap he would have found it funny had it not involved a supposedly great weapon that could be used to end the war with the Dark side on top. To be honest, the only reason he was leery of that outcome to the war was the fact that the Dark-siders wanted him dead for whatever reason Dumbledore didn’t see fit to share with him.

And the mass genocide, he supposed, that too was a reason he didn’t support the other side of the war… maybe.

‘Genocide, it happens now and then.’ He thought, and then chuckled like a loon because Dudley’s taste for American cinema was starting to rub off on him in the worse way.

One of these days he would have to go get professional help, before he lost what little of his sanity was left.

Or not, he quite liked himself these days.

It was during one of his nightmares nights that he woke up to the itch he had been dealing with for days having reached unbearable proportions. Of all things he did not want to be doing in a house full of people, shedding his skin was at least number two on the top of the list.

Thankfully it was late enough in the night that hopefully even the ones who stayed up until ungodly hours must have gone to bed already. The lack of privacy was really starting to get to him if he was willing to spend three hours kneeling behind a large desk in a dirty study peeling his skin off his body, just so in case someone looks in they don’t catch him mid process. Because seriously, how in hell would he explain himself?

At least he had plenty of resistant and fireproof hide for later, he was going to use some to cover the outside of Egg’s pouch and replace the cord it hung from around his neck. Merlin forbid he spontaneously set himself aflame in a moment of distress and had to run away only to later find out the cord burned off and he left Egg behind somewhere. Plus, with its magic resistance it would provide better shielding for the pouch if he ever found himself taking another blasting curse to the chest at point blank range as he did with Umbridge.

Two more days passed and Harry was in the middle of another crisis, because obviously his life did not have enough of those already. He had hunted the day before leaving for Christmas break and had though he had enough meat under preservation charms hidden in an expanded sock in his trunk to last him the break. However, he had not counted on developing Stress Eating due to the incredible amount of control he had to exercise in a daily bases to not go into a murderous rage and kill everyone in the house just to find some peace. Before he even realized it, he had eaten through his stash and was starting to go from peaky to starving rather quickly.

Between himself and Buckbeak, they had decimated the pigeon population in the attic so thoroughly they were no longer coming back.

It stands to reason that once his hunger reached a certain level of severity, Harry would be twitch as fuck and easily irritable. The fact that every time he set about with an escape plan he found either Remus or Sirius and sometimes both awake in the front receiving room brooding, drinking, or a combination of the two was not helping his sanity at all. It was as if they knew he wanted to bolt and leave the place… or as if they wanted to leave and couldn’t so they sat as close to the outside world as they could. Whatever it was, it was certainly starting to piss him off.

He missed the thrill of the hunt already and could not even eat the preserved meats Mrs. Weasley had in the house because the one time he did so the woman had commented there was some meat missing. Thankfully, the twins had stepped up and proclaimed they had fed it to the hippogriff.

Very reliable those two.

The day before Christmas Harry woke up cranky and proceeded to get progressively bitchy and snap at everything and everyone all through the day. He almost blew up at Ron during dinner, and would have too if Hermione would not have discretely stomped on his feet to get him to settle down.

The twins showed up with topper-wear containers at three am that day. Where exactly they found topper-wear much less learned what it was not important to Harry at all. What he did find important was that the containers contained two rabbits each and one had the internal organs of someone’s cat.

Confused, he just had to ask.

“Why is there just the internal organs on this one?”

“We ate it.” Said Fred... or George? Whatever. He was not even going to try to keep track of who was who. The headache was not worth it.

“You ate the cat?”

“After watching you eat a couple of times and seeing the look of utter satisfaction in your face along with the noises you make. We started to wonder, what is it like to hunt like a real fox and eat what we capture?”

“So we chased the neighbor’s cat all over the park and neighborhood until we finally caught it ten blocks from here.”

“And?”

“It was alright.”

“It was more than alright George! It was actually pretty good Harry. There is something about chasing down something weaker than you and feeling the life drain out of it in your jaws and then eating it. I can’t explain it; it was just so… exciting? Wouldn’t want to eat it as a human but as a fox? Blimey Harry, it was something else. George just doesn’t want to admit it out loud but I know he felt it too. It’s just hard to explain.”

“No need to explain, I get it. Trust me I know what you mean.” Harry responded and they left it at that.

Harry ate as the twins recounted their hunting trip. They had cleaned and saved the pelts in case he wanted them but had stashed them in their trunks and would give them to him later.

The next morning Harry came to the kitchen for breakfast in the mother of all good moods. It confused the fuck out of everyone present that was not aware of Harry’s particular needs. He was inordinately cheerful and in such a good mood that it prompted Mrs. Weasley to wonder if whatever was making him pissy the day before was just a severe case of teenage hormones. According to her “They are so moody and strange at that age.” which prompted a story about Percy during the height of puberty that Harry would have rather not known, at all. Ever.

Fred and George welcomed the blackmail material however. Not like they would get to use it any time soon anyways, what with Percy ditching his family in favor of MoM. But you never know, so Harry too filed away the information away for the future just in case the need to use it ever presented itself.

Christmas Day passed without a hitch, Harry’s good mood survived the day, miraculously.

Later in the afternoon he came to the drawing room to ask Sirius about some names in the Black tapestry only to find him sitting on a wingback chair by the fire reading the a recently published novel –with names changed of course. The cover proclaimed to be called ‘A Slythindor Affair’, Harry nearly had conniptions when Sirius told him McGonagall recommended it but limited himself to warn Sirius not to let Hermione see him reading it.

“Why?” He had asked

“Just don’t.” He warned, knowing that the immature man was liable to tease Hermione about it if he told him the reason behind his warning.

Sirius, predictably, didn’t head his advice and continued to read his book in the open. The day after Christmas, Hermione caught him reading the book when Mrs. Weasley had sent her to let people know dinner was ready. The girl’s hair was practically standing like an irate cat’s hair with the static produced by the crackling magic her outburst had released.

She yelled at him like a banshee from hell at the perceived slight against her person –never mind that Sirius had no idea the book was based on her and false events- and even Mrs. Weasley stayed out of that situation. The woman had a sense of self preservation it seemed, because Hermione was out for blood.

Harry found it all to be hilarious and quite entertaining but in the end dragged a screeching Hermione out of the room and into the hallway which unfortunately had the side effect of setting off Mrs. Black’s portrait.

Shortly after things had calmed down and they had sat through a rather awkward dinner, Order members started to arrive for another one of their meetings. Harry, who had been waiting to catch Tonks on her own for days on end finally cornered her in the sitting room and took a chance to put his plan in action, hoping that he would have enough time to get what he needed before someone decided to show up and catch him red-handed.

He had first learned about this little trick when he had suddenly convinced Dudley to stop hunting him to beat him up with his friends during the summer before fourth year. He had been so pissed and just looked at his cousin in the eyes and told him to just go find some other sob in the neighborhood to amuse himself with instead of bothering him every time he felt like beating up someone. Incredibly, Dudley had blinked with empty eyes and walked away. He had been practicing this skill ever since. Mostly on Ron but sometimes on Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia.

“Wotcher Harry!” She had greeted

He went for it.

“Hey, Tonks. Would you do me a quick favor?”

“Depends, what do you need?”

“Nothing bad, I promise. I just have something in my eye and was wondering if you could help me out.”

“Sure thing, let’s see it then.”

As soon as her eyes locked on his, Harry’s eyes seemed to glow in an entrancing kaleidoscope of green and golden which had her sway to an unheard tune. Her eyes went glassy as he spoke softly to her, with a fair bit of hissing yet in a non-threatening voice.

“You trust me Nymphadora Tonks, we are friends.”

“I trust you, we are friends.”

She was perfect for this, weak willed.

“I care about you.”

“Yes, you care.”

“You want to help me.”

“I do.”

“Tell me, tell your friend, where is Azkaban? What is the security of the island like? Tell me about shift changes.”

She told him everything he needed to know to set about the next part of his plan. Hopefully since Christmas has passed things will ease up and people in the house will be more lax with watching him so he can escape for some hours in the night to put his plans in motion and not have to delay them.

Pleased, he hissed at her to forget ever telling him about Azkaban but to remain feeling trust toward him. Then, the swirling color in his eyes stopped and she blinked coming out of her trance.

“Well?” He asked “Is there something in my eye?”

“I’m sorry Harry but I don’t see anything there.” She responded, not even realizing he had essentially hypnotized her.

“Must have come out then.” He said and walked away with a self satisfied smirk on his face.
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Because We Are Snakes