Summary: AU, set during OOTP. Harry is locked inside his bedroom by his own hand and in a fit of boredom decides to write a full length letter to the Godfather he has secretly started to admire. One-Shot!
Disclaimer: *sigh* no nothing's changed in that area…
Warnings: boredom, depression, sexual frustrations, SLASH, teenage angst
There may be references to things which do not comply with the Harry Potter timeline.
Hi there, other crazy locked-up person who at least shows a bit of care for my sanity. How have you been?
Harry snorted and resisted the urge to tap with his quill point on his parchment. In the end he made a grab for the ballpoint, chucked the quill in the corner and continued to write.
I've been making a list for my birthday since it's coming up soon. I thought of it while I was in the shower. Those two minutes of hot water really makes my head go into overdrive. It happens at night as well. Just as I plan to go to sleep I get struck by an idea and run with it. I got annoyed with it at first because it made for less time sleeping until I realised the less I am able to sleep the less I am able to dream. So it's a win/win situation there.
His pen hovered over the words ready to cross them out when the raven head snorted. It was a testament to his boredom, so instead of crossing out the embarrassing things and the hints at his unfair treatment in the Dursley household Harry left the message as it was. There was no real point to this letter anyway – he was never going to send it – it was just a way to relief himself of his boredom and stress. Maybe he could throw in a few hints… Harry felt his cheeks heat up and quickly shook his head. No, it was bad enough that he dreamed of those things. Confessing to the man starring in those dreams was just… no.
So, with a blush on his cheeks and a burning in his stomach, Harry put pen to paper once more.
Tell you what, hot showers in summer: best thing ever! Especially when a stream of cold water quickly follows to catch you of guard. Either that or midnight bath's. I only managed that once so I can't say I'm an expert but the Prefect's baths, the thrill of anyone walking in on you. Hiding a large egg under the invisibility cloak while's you're still wet is a disaster though, especially if you're trying to check the map at the same time. That just doesn't work. I was sure Filch or Snape were going to catch me right at that moment. I cursed Cedric all the way back to the common room.
Harry chuckled softly, his eyes sad as he stared at the name of his fallen comrade. "I'm sorry Cedric," the raven head mumbled. "I can't remember if I said thank you for the hint. Even if it was a rubbish one."
Lost in thought he realised too late that he was doodling on the edges. Harry stopped to stare at the tiny picture, squinting to figure out what it was. It took him about five minutes to figure out that it was a drawing of a cartoon Dudley used to watch as a child. It wasn't very good – it was him drawing after all – but it did resemble 'something'. He debated about removing it but found that he couldn't really care either way so Harry left it with a small smile and set his pen down to write again.
I still feel bad for Myrtle and just can't understand why she would want to haunt the toilets and sewers. There must be more interesting things in death than floating around the u-bend. But then she startled me right good appearing in the bathrooms. I guess that's how she gets her pleasures in death. Compared to Nick and his ambitions to join the Headless Hunt, Myrtle's mischievous adventures seem a lot more fun. Think about it, should you ever be stuck as a ghost I don't think either of us could settle anything else.
It reminds me of something I caught a glimpse of once; I think it must have been around the time of your Great Escape. There was a story on television about a mischievous death, the spirit of Halloween. I hadn't been able to watch the entire thing – Aunt Marge was coming to visit and there is no way I am going to spend more time with 'them' than necessary – I got the gist of it and I guess it stuck. It makes me wonder, does the Wizarding World believe in any festive spirits? I know we have ghosts and we celebrate Halloween and Christmas, but does that also meant that the Wizarding World children go trick or treating? Do they light candles to greet the dead and to send them on their way back? Did children ever believe in Father Christmas and his elves, or does the Wizarding World have a magical equivalent? Do they even have the Easter bunny?
He didn't know where the sudden influx of questions came from but a burning need to have them answered flamed away inside of him. Petunia had taught him well and it caused Harry to be slightly lazy to squander away the burning need to ask questions because he had known that they would never be answered. But now he found that he couldn't stop. It was why the need for solving mysteries burning away inside of his blood. All the questions he was never able to ask…
"Maybe I should write a letter to Hermione," he muttered biting his lower lip before sighing and shaking his head sadly. "It won't do. She won't answer me with anything but 'I can't tell you anything Harry' or 'just stay safe and you'll be with us soon'. Like that's such a great help."
But he wasn't really angry at his friend. Not really.
Maybe I should pay more attention in class to see if the professor's will speak of it. Can you imagine professor McGonagall explaining Muggleborns and Muggle-raised teenagers about Easter eggs! It'll be like explaining to Mr Weasley about the 'function of a rubber duck' all over again! It'll be something to see.
But I think I strayed off topic. What was my topic anyway? Right, Christmas while it's still clearly summer beyond my window. At least I don't have to worry about anyone seeing my state of undress while I'm in my room. It does help that most of the clothes I own are so far gone that I'm quite cool in all this hot weather. Say is that why our dear old Snake-face not really care for causing any scenes? It's simply too hot for anything but lazing about and watching yourself get burned when you get kicked out of the house without a shirt on.
Don't worry, that hasn't happened.
"Not in a while," Harry added in a low mutter. He yawned and stretched lazily, flicking his pen on his desk before standing. Taking a short toilet break was all he needed and Harry wandered back and forth across the landing before returning to his bedroom. He stared out of the open window his mind conjuring up dark clouds to go with his turn in mood.
At some point he noticed the neighbour at number sixteen walk past with a horde of dogs behind her. Number five was mowing the lawn and as number seven returned from wherever they had been, Harry absently noticed the ongoing conversation between the two neighbours. Wooden logs travelled between the car and the house and Harry looked on curiously. The raven head often didn't care what the neighbours did as long as they kept away from him so this was something new.
With a frown Harry made his way back to his letter.
I don't know what to do Snuffles. Dudley hangs out with his friends, chasing the neighbourhood children around and threatening them to let them know whose boss. Even Aunt Petunia often goes out with Uncle Vernon during the summer months. I watched our neighbour from across the road – the Peterson family moved in about three years ago now – they were bringing in what looked like firewood, but who uses the fireplace in this heat? But then they have bonfire night as well so does that mean that they will build one in their garden? It sounds exciting doesn't it? Standing around the fire waiting for the first stars to show.
I guess I couldn't talk you into building a bonfire with me? I could just see the Dursley's reaction now, you standing in the backyard between Aunt Petunia's neatly kept rose bushes. That would be a scary sight indeed. Then have you ever seen the Dursley's? Just be happy that you haven't.
Let's leave the Dursley's for what they are and move on. It depresses me just to think that I will probably have to spend my entire summer here. That I won't be allowed to see you at all this summer.
Harry felt the depression take hold, rolled up the unfinished letter and moved from his chair to his bed only to drop down. He wanted to sleep away the rest of the day, to dream of his Godfather in all his unashamed teenaged fantasies. And that was what he did.
Now Hedwig was a relatively smart owl. She knew when her Master was distressed; when he wanted a letter send without telling her or even where to take it without him knowing the address. She was very loyal to her Master and would protect his affairs with all her intelligence.
Now when she returned from her flight and noticed that her Master was sleeping, she clicked her beck at the sight he made. Never would her chicks ever be as irresponsible as her Master was being at the moment. She hovered carefully and picked up the blanket which was halfway falling off the bed and draped it across the naked body of her Master.
It was as she flew to her cage that she noticed the letter on the desk. While she couldn't read, she could understand the scrawl of her Master. This was for her Master's Godfather, the one he often mumbled about in his sleep. As the letter was rolled up and addressed, Hedwig assumed her Master wanted it send.
Harry moaned, mumbling Sirius's name just as Hedwig flew out the window with the letter he had never intended to post.
A/N: yes, I was bored and very into Sirius/Harry stories at the moment. Now it is a bit short and I guess I could make another chapter after this, but that is up to you. Let me know and hopefully I won't make another One-Shot out of boredom :P Or maybe I will…