Huurre - Frosty

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Harry argues with Sirius. A lot.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, armed with the charm and ingenuity of Tom Riddle is able to sway Fudge and in time, Sirius's name is cleared.

And joy of joys, Harry gets to move in with Sirius. He's ecstatic! Both he and Tom Riddle had yearned for a parent to come, take them and care of them. But just like Tom, Harry has grown bitter.

No one came; Remus is a coward and Dumbledore thinks his plans are above a child's safety. Harry knows how to take care of himself. He's independent, proud and stubborn, with a witty mouth and too much resentment to keep it shut.

Harry is, in fact, a lot like Sirius had been at that age. Sirius may not have hidden behind masks as easily, or perhaps had an equal desire to sharpen his tongue to the enticing silver, but he was a bitter rebellious boy; a product of desire to become independent and escape both his heritage and his parents.

But then the years in Azkaban dulled the memories, the idea of James, of Harry have become idolised; unreal expectations built on blurry memories.

Expectations, that Harry doesn't fulfil.

That's where clash comes from. Harry is the blood son of James Potter, he should be the very same man, just smaller, but he is not. He's half Tom Riddle, he's been raised in fear and with survival at all costs in mind, he's killed a man with his bare hands once and no one wanted to try telling the Minister exactly how Peter Pettigrew got decapitated.

James Potter at Harry's age would've barely tolerated Harry and only because he was a Gryffindor.

And so Harry and Sirius clash. They argue, they scream at each other and it takes all of Harry's will not to hunch as if to mellow the impact of an incoming strike.

The day Sirius draws his wand during an argument, unthinking and blinded by ire, Harry runs.

He has long known Wizards could harm each other in manu vicious ways, he wasn't about to risk his chances whilst still under the Trace.

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And he should run into Barty Jr, please! T-T

"Fuck, you're so wet."

Draco roughly pushed Harry away. "You literally saw me crawl out of the pool! It's not my fault I still have to cover from the sun to heal properly and you deciding to hug me out of nowhere."

Modesty

There are many rules about pureblood society that Harry has had to learn to properly fit in. Which functions and occasions requires long robes and a collar high to cover his entire neck, where it is appropriate to wear nothing but a tunic, and where his place depends only on the words of a select few.

This time, the layers upon layers of robes aren't for modesty, as isn't the mask in his hand. They're for protection. He knows Draco will recognise him, both intimately familiar with each other's duelling style. 

Harry pecks a quick kiss on Draco's cheek before his face, too, is covered by a mask turning him into a faceless threat. 

"Don't die on me, will you?" Harry asks, hoping his worry wouldn't show.

Draco gently cradles his face. "You've already killed Dumbledore and Moody, there isn't that big of a threat to me left."

With this sentence to You were mine before you took your first breath, I broke the streak of 500 days of writing.

Happy Birthday to @hikarimeroperiddle one of the sweetest and most talented friends I've ever made in fandom!

Mob Boss Tom for @huurreauthor 's upcoming fic! I've read some snippets and can't wait to read it all

No text version under the cut

Harry couldn't remember when it started appearing so, but it was stark clear when he finally noticed it right in front of his eyes.