What Damocles Rowle had been thinking when he'd allowed the Dementors to remain when he'd initially chosen the island to be the new wizarding prison was completely beyond him. Couldn't anyone else see the escalating danger? The increasing numbers of Dementors, the higher and higher amount of them that were disappearing from Azkaban to who knew where? The signs were all there and they were a glaring red flag. Something needed to be done, and quickly, before it was too late.
Harry had excused himself just after dinner as Rhadamanthus had taken it upon himself to spend the entire meal alternating between telling him how ridiculous Harry and his thoughts were and belittling and shaming Rabastan.
He was so angry when he reached his room that he had to beat his pillow several times just to work through the rush of angry adrenaline.
He sat back up and he went to his trunk, taking out some of his sentimental things and putting them around his room, the most important of which was the framed photo of his parents that he put on his bedside table. With his room a little more homey, he changed into his pyjamas and climbed back into his bed with a book.
He didn't care what anyone said or did, he had his own mind and his own thoughts and feelings and he'd be damned if he let anyone tell him that they were wrong or childish, especially not Rhadamanthus, of all people. He really needed to do something about him, if the scant hour and a bit that he had spent with the vile man was any indication, then he was determined, committed and ruthless in his attempt to completely destroy Rabastan. Harry didn't know why Rhadamanthus wanted to hurt and possibly even kill his own son, but he would not let him do so.
He was only sixteen years old, he was limited in what he could do, he already knew that. Yet, that didn't mean that he was completely useless or that he'd stand aside and allow Rhadamanthus to destroy his budding family without even trying to do something about it. It did mean that he needed help, the problem was, where did he go for that help? He couldn't ask Rabastan or Rodolphus to kill their own father, he couldn't ask Xerxes to kill his own son. Draco was only a month older than he was and Lucius was an eternal diplomat and might have tried to talk him out of killing Rhadamanthus and trying to work things out instead. But Harry couldn't leave such a powerful threat to his family alive, not when he didn't know what was actually motivating Rhadamanthus' hatred towards his youngest son in the first place. Not when he didn't know if that hatred would spill over onto his and Rabastan's future children. So where did he go about finding someone to help him kill a man?
He was sure that he could pay someone to help him, but he only had one real shot at this, if anyone, especially Rhadamanthus, caught on to his plan, then it would all be over. The man would kill Rabastan, maybe Harry as well for good measure, as well as any children they had. No, he needed to do this right, even if it took a year or more of planning and another couple of years to implement the plan, he was adamant that Rhadamanthus had to be dead before he and Rabastan had their first child, at least. He needed to eliminate the danger as quickly as possible without risking his one and only shot at this and, preferably, it needed to be done before he fell pregnant and before he was married and before Rhadamanthus completely destroyed Rabastan. There was a lot to plan and a lot to figure out beforehand, he couldn't just jump in and start firing off curses, he was worried that it would be several years before he had a shot of eliminating Rhadamanthus and he was scared of the damage that could be done in that time to Rabastan and possibly even their children as well.
Harry was so tired now that he wasn't even feeling tired anymore. He cracked open the book he'd taken to bed and he hoped that reading it in a warm, cosy bed would help to lower his anger and help him relax enough to sleep as he pushed away all thoughts of planning to kill Rhadamanthus. It worked in less time than he would have thought it would as his eyelids started drooping after just five minutes. He put the book down and switched off his bedside lamp, snuggling under the covers and falling asleep very quickly, his mind playing around naughty thoughts of Rabastan. He'd been having these dreams for a while now and they always made him feel more relaxed. He only woke up when the Malfoy house-elf, Pimsey, insistently prodded him awake ten hours later, telling him that breakfast would be served soon and that 'Master' had said to get him up.
Sitting himself up, Harry stretched languidly and with a jaw-breaking yawn, he got himself out of bed, found an outfit and a set of casual robes in his wardrobe and he headed for his en suite bathroom for a shower. He took his time, but he didn't linger too long either, he wanted to see Rabastan again to reassure him that his going to bed early had nothing to do with him and had everything to do with Rhadamanthus making him overly angry and his almost all-nighter the previous day. Three hours was definitely not enough sleep to go a whole day on.
He dried himself with a quick spell and dressed as quickly as he could in dark jeans, a nice jumper and his matching casual robes. He made sure that he looked presentable in his full-length mirror as he brushed his naturally messy hair before he left his rooms and went down to the formal dining room where all the residents of the manor were already starting their breakfasts.
Harry sat opposite Rabastan, as was expected of him, and he grabbed a piece of toast and buttered it lightly.
"Would you like tea or coffee?" Rabastan asked him quietly. Harry smiled at him. "Good morning." Harry greeted him happily. "Tea, please. A bit of milk and no sugar."
The smile that lit up Rabastan's face made Harry's belly flutter and he found it difficult to swallow as he put his toast back on his plate.
"Make sure that you don't throw the tea over your suitor. We would hate for you to scald him." Rhadamanthus commented from a few seats down from Rabastan, sounding entirely like he would absolutely love for such a thing to happen.
Harry noticed the immediate change in Rabastan as everyone turned to watch him. Harry saw how his hand clenched the teacup tighter, straining his damaged, weakened muscles and making the cup shake ominously as he poured boiling water into it with his other, equally shaky hand. He reached out and cupped both of Rabastan's hands lightly, applying a bit of pressure before he pulled back, letting his fingers drag across the backs of Rabastan's hands.
"I'm sure he won't do such a thing." He said lightly. "Rabastan knows that pushing himself too hard will be detrimental to his recovery and I'm sure that he's smart enough to know not to push himself by now."
"He almost crushed your hand." Rhadamanthus sneered at him.
"Once, when we first met." Harry replied with a small smile. "Something I now look back on fondly. Rabastan has since held my hand a hundred times and we've never had a repeat of that incident. I trust him and I wouldn't care even if he did throw it over me, as long as it wasn't purposefully, of course. I would forgive him for such actions as I know that they are out of his control at the moment."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Do you enjoy reading? Visit my site on Tiendup! There you will find the advanced chapter in PDF format, ready for your convenience.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
https://fictiontopia.tiendup.com/