When The Unexpected Comes A-knockin': Part Two
Title: When the Unexpected Comes A-Knockin’
Author: Elle_S_Shadow
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry Potter doesn't like to have much to do with the wizarding world - not after he lost so much in the war. He takes comfort in hiding his life behind the excuse of his mysterious and secretive muggle roommate, Adam Coorfly. But when he starts to let himself live again, he uncovers secrets about his past and learns that sometimes fate can be right in front of you.
Beta: cynikal_lemon
Notes: I started writing this before Deathly Hallows came out. Then Deathly Hallows came out and I tried to throw in a few details from it here and there. So anything in my plot that you recognize from Deathly Hallows probably IS from Deathly Hallows. Lovely. Also, needless to say, but this goes AU after Half-Blood Prince. This fic is complete and will be updated every weekend.
Part One
Wednesday, April 12th
The next morning, Harry made his way down to Ragamuffins - he usually stopped there in the mornings anyway. He scanned the room. In the far corner, a woman with a toddler was trying to pry sugar packets out of his sticky fingers. A few tables over an elderly man was reading the paper.
Harry sighed and got in line behind two girls who were apparently stopping on their way to school.
"So I said 'No way, Nancy, if I'm doing this then you're going down with me'," One girl said animatedly to the other.
"Oh my god, what did she say?" The other asked, eyes wide.
"She was all like 'whatever', and stuff and then..."
Harry tuned them out as the bell above the door jingled merrily, and a young man stepped into the room, eyes scanning.
He looked about Harry's age. He was tall, and thin, very good looking, with auburn hair and blue eyes. He caught Harry's gaze and gave a tight-lipped smile.
Harry returned it, just as tightly, and went up to the desk.
"Hello, Amelia," he said.
"The usual?" She asked. Harry breathed a sigh of relief - she seemed to be on her best behavior today.
"Please," he said politely, and she turned to make his coffee: two sugars, one cream.
When she brought it back to him, he handed her the money and she smiled. "Did you get my message last night, Harry?"
So that's why she's behaving.
"I'm actually here to interview someone to take your old room. I told you, Amelia, it just doesn't work. We don't work."
She scowled at him, and he turned away, and headed to where the young man was looking on with interest.
"You certainly made her day," the young man quipped, watching Amelia blink back angry tears.
"It's all dramatics. She tried that the last three times I kicked her out. This time's for good," Harry paused. "Are you Mr. Coorfly?"
"Adam, please," Adam said, extending a hand, "And you are?"
"Harry Potter," Harry replied sitting down. "Alright. You're interested in being my flat-mate?"
"I need a place to stay," Adam allowed, "I've no where to go."
Harry wrinkled his brow. "Homeless?"
"Something like that," Adam nodded.
"Why? If you don't mind me asking."
Adam inclined his head. "Let's just say that I've fallen on hard times. I plan to look for a job as soon as I've found a place to sleep."
"You don't even have a job?"
"I'm fresh out of school," Adam lied, "and I've suddenly found myself on my own."
"You have no family willing to help you?"
"I have no family, period."
"I can understand that. I'm the same. So tell me about yourself, Adam."
Adam figured that 'Well, I was released from the hospital yesterday, where I had been in a coma for two months, and I remember nothing about myself' wouldn't work. "There's not much to tell. I'm quiet and I keep to myself. I'm a lousy cook. I'm rather partial to the colour green. That's about all there is."
"I'm sure there's more."
"We'll find out together, then," Adam muttered.
Harry was silent for a moment. "Right. I have a few... rules, I guess."
Adam nodded, leaning slightly forward.
"I... I value privacy. Very much. Most of the house is open. We have separate bedrooms and we share everything else. I just expect that my room be left alone, and I'll show you the same respect. Also, it is primarily my house. If you're going to have friends over late, they need to know how to be quiet. No wild parties - at least without my permission."
"You sound like a parent," Adam commented with a smile.
Harry shrugged. "If you can't agree, then it's not for you."
"No, no," Adam said, putting his hands up defensively, "I completely agree with all of that. Especially the privacy part. And you don't have to worry about my friends. It sounds perfect."
"Should I assume that you, being homeless, are currently unable to pay any sort of rent?" Harry asked.
Adam bit his lip lightly. "I plan to get a job immediately."
"I'd give you two weeks, tops, to get a job. I'm an understanding man, but I can't pay for this flat alone."
"I'll have a job by the end of the week. I promise."
"We can try it," Harry said, "When can you move in?"
"Now," Adam said, standing. "This is all I've got."
Harry looked at him. He was empty handed. However, he refrained from comment, and led the mysterious man out the door towards his flat.
Once inside, Harry gave him a quick tour. "Your room is through that door. Mine is across the hall. Remember what I said - do not go in there. I work down at the, er, some crappy old office buildings, actually. The number for my mobile is on that piece of paper by the microwave. You can call if you need me."
Adam didn't bother mentioning that he didn't know how to "call". Or what a "mobile" was.
"I'll be home at four," Harry said, opening the door, and peering at Adam closely. He had been positive for a second that his blue eyes were... different. But they were normal now, there was no question about that. Harry shut the door and headed down the stairs.
*****
"I've found somebody," Harry told Hermione as he passed her desk in the Ministry office.
Hermione counted to ten. Twice. "You don't need a flat-mate, Harry."
"It gets lonely."
"That's total crap, Harry. You used to bitch nonstop when Amelia was hanging around too much."
"She went in my room," Harry said, "And her damn friends would get drunk and be yelling all over my flat until four in the morning. And one time I came home and her friends Jack and Bethany were in my bed."
"Alright," Hermione agreed, "Amelia was a bit much. So tell me about her."
"Him," Harry corrected.
"Well?" Hermione prompted.
"His name's Adam Coorfly. He's our age. That's pretty much all I know."
Hermione frowned. "That doesn't seem very safe. What if he's an axe murderer?"
Harry laughed dryly. "As long as he's not Voldemort reincarnated, I don't give a shit."
"And he's a Muggle?" Hermione asked.
Harry nodded.
"Wonderful, Harry," she said sarcastically, "Just what you need. Another excuse to shy away from magic."
"I do not-"
"The only magical thing you do is your job here at the Ministry - and I have the funniest feeling that you're only doing that to appease everyone."
"I'm an Auror, Hermione! That's about as magical as it gets. It's not my fault they only let me do paper-work," Harry said angrily. He headed into his small, cramped office, and set about tackling the papers piling up in his "In" box.
*****
Back in the flat, Adam headed towards the bathroom to shower. He turned on the water so it could warm up and stripped off his shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror on the back of the door. He had an interesting scar on his chest, he noticed, probably from the accident. On his forearm was a faded tattoo. He couldn't make out what it was, but he thought it almost resembled a skull.
Funny... I didn't think tattoos faded that much...
He stepped into the water and washed quickly, hurrying to get out and dry off. He dressed again, and combed out his auburn hair. He frowned. It needed a trim.
He stepped into a jacket and wrote a short note to Harry, explaining that he was going to be around town searching for a job.
He made it halfway down main street before he saw a sign. It was an old antique shop, and it had a red and white "Help Wanted" sign in the window.
He entered the small shop, looking around. It was simply packed with almost everything imaginable. He was amazed that so much could fit in such a small space.
"Excuse me," he said politely to the man at the desk, "My name is Adam Coorfly. I'd like to inquire about the help wanted sign."
The man behind the counter seemed to be the oldest antique in the shop. He positively trembled as he moved, and his voice was thin.
"You'd like to work here?" The man asked, squinting up at Adam.
"What does the job entail, Mr...?" Adam asked, looking around.
"Mr. Fields. Desk work, selling, bartering, moving new things in and out. You look strong. Nothing you can't handle."
"And the hours?"
"Weekdays from seven til one. Saturdays from nine to two."
That was doable. "Wages?"
The old man grinned, and Adam noticed that he was nearly toothless. "It's open for discussion."
"I need to pay my rent," Adam said firmly.
The man cackled merrily. "Oh, it won't be a problem at all, not at all. Will you take the job?"
Adam sighed. He had to pay his half of the rent somehow, and this job was just as easy as any other. "Yes," he answered, "I will."
He noticed it on the floor on his way out - a 1940's Royal typewriter. "Does it work?" He asked Mr. Fields.
"More or less," he answered, "Take it. It's been sitting there for ages."
Adam picked it up. "It's heavy," he grinned, but he carried it all the way to the flat without breaking a sweat.
*****
Ten Things I Know About Myself
* My name is Adam Coorfly.
* I have red hair and blue eyes.
* I caught myself staring at five different men today at the cafe, and not a single chick.
* I've got a job at a local antique shop.
* I live with a man named Harry Potter.
* I'm fond of the colour green.
* I refuse to eat seafood, cherries, or caviar.
* I have no clue what caviar is, just that I won't eat it.
* I have music in my head, and when I hum it my fingers start moving like they're making it happen.
* Whenever I close my eyes and try really really hard to think about the car accident that did this to me, all I see is green light.
It wasn't perfect. It needed to be oiled badly, and he had to press very hard to get the letters to show, and sometimes he had to tug on the ribbon or it would stay in one spot until there was a hole where the letters hit, and the 'd' and 'y' keys stuck every single time, but it was something. For some reason, Adam felt fond of it.
He didn't notice Harry come home, but when he looked up the other man was leaning against the door frame to his room.
"What happened to privacy?" Adam quipped, before belatedly realizing that he was still in the 'smile, nod, and be polite' phase with his new flat-mate.
But, luckily, Harry smiled wryly. "Your door's open. Fair game. What's that monster?"
"A typewriter," Adam answered.
"Why not use a computer?"
"Much too complex," Adam said quickly, having no idea what a 'computer' was, and hoping his answer would work. Apparently it did.
"Typewriters are noisy," Harry pointed out.
"So are wild parties. Would you prefer that to my typewriter?"
"No," Harry said after a moment of thought, "I suppose not."
"Right," Adam said.
"What would you like for dinner?" Harry asked offhandedly.
"You don't need to cook for me."
Harry shrugged. "We'll split the grocery bills. The food in the house is for either of us. First come, first serve. If you're hungry, you cook. If there are leftovers, they're for the other person. Sound fair?"
Adam nodded.
"But tonight, I cook," Harry said firmly, "So what will it be? Chicken or pasta?"
"Whichever is easiest."
"Alright. Pasta. Why don't you go see if there's anything good on the telly while I cook?"
Adam bit his lip.
He didn't want to admit that he didn't know how to use the strange device. "I think I'll just type while I wait, thanks."
Harry nodded and went into the kitchen, taking a pot out of a cabinet and filling it with water. He looked over his shoulder to make sure Adam was still hidden away in his room, and pulled out his wand, muttering a heating spell. The water started to boil. Over in the next room, Adam's skin began to tingle, as if everything under his skin was suddenly coming alive.
After a few seconds, it passed, and Adam looked at his arms curiously. After his body remained normal for a few minutes, he sat down to type.
Ten Things I Don't Know About Myself
* What was I like?
* Was I nice?
* Did I have a family?
* Friends?
* Was I good at anything?
* Did people respect me?
* Even better- did people fear me?
* Was I rich?
* What was my job?
* Who am I now?
*****
"I got a job already," Adam boasted as they sat in the kitchen, eating the pasta.
"Already? Where?"
"The antique shop down the road," Adam said smugly, feeling very accomplished.
Harry nodded, and they ate in awkward silence for a few minutes.
"So," Harry asked, "Are you a writer?"
"Not really. It's more... personal." Adam took another bite.
Harry mulled over that for a moment. "Like a journal?"
"Something like that. I often find that my brain is holding too much. I feel like I need to let it out, somehow. Record it. So then I can have a few minutes of peace."
"I know how that is," Harry said.
They lapsed into silence and continued to eat.
After the meal, Adam rose silently and placed his dish in the sink. He headed back to the kitchen, where Harry was just finishing up.
Harry looked up. "I'll do the dishes tonight. Do you have to work tomorrow?"
"What's tomorrow?"
"Thursday."
"Yes. I have to be there at seven."
Harry nodded. "I've got to be at the office by nine. But I don't get home 'til much later tomorrow, so you're going to have to make yourself dinner or call for carry-out."
"That's fine," Adam said.
Harry nodded, and headed over to the sink, starting to run some water. Adam turned and headed into his bedroom, shutting the door and flopping onto the bed, closing his eyes. A few seconds later, his skin began to tingle, as if a thousand microscopic bugs were dancing around just out of sight. He felt alive, he felt as if he had power and it was just a little bit out of reach. And just as soon as it started, it stopped. Adam sighed and threw an arm over his eyes. Within seconds, he was asleep.
He didn't wake up until Harry knocked on the door a few hours later.
He groaned, and tried to sit up. He'd fallen asleep sprawled on his back across the bed, his shoes still on.
"Yes?" he managed to rasp, and the door opened.
Harry looked slightly taken aback by Adam's appearance - Adam figured his hair was probably sticking up all over, and he was sure he looked half-dead. He certainly felt it.
Harry handed him a small white box looking thing. "I figured your mental alarm clock would need some help," he said with a smile.
"Thank you." Adam said, wondering what the hell it was, and how to use it.
"There's an outlet next to the bed. You can just set it on the table."
"Thank you," Adam said again.
Harry nodded and left, shutting the door behind him. It was so strange, he thought, but in that low light, and sprawled out like that, Adam's hair had almost looked a bit less red. But when he'd sat up, it had been the same rusty color it always was.
Back in the room, Adam was staring at the plug in his hand and the outlet on the wall. Two prongs, two holes. It shouldn't be too hard, he reasoned. He pushed the plug into the holes, and to his surprise, the numbers on the front of the box lit up and started blinking.
He set it on the table and sat on the bed, glaring at it. "How do you work?" He asked it.
He read the buttons. "Time Set" one read, "Hour", "Minute", and "Alarm Set". And a little switch labeled "Alarm On/Off".
"You tell time!" Adam crowed, pleased with himself for figuring it out. He went to the door.
"Harry!" he called.
The door across the hall opened. "Yes?"
"What time is it? I have to set the time-teller."
Harry blinked at him. "The what?"
Oh shit. I don't know what they call it. What had Harry said before? It rhymed with cock, I think.
"The, uh, the... the crock."
"Clock?"
"That's what I said."
Harry glanced back into his room. "It's 10:08. And make sure it's on PM."
"How do I do that?"
Harry sighed, and stepped into the hallway. Adam backed out of his doorway to let Harry in. Harry sat on the bed and pushed a few buttons. "There," he said, and the clock blinked 10:09 PM.
"The alarm?"
"Will go off at 6:30. Is that enough time?"
"Plenty." Adam said.
"Great. Goodnight." Harry headed back to his room.
"Thank you," Adam said, but Harry was already gone. Adam shut his door and crawled into the bed, still not bothering to turn off the lamp.
*****
Draco had been given a bedroom near Harry's in Grimmauld Place, but no one ever saw him in it. In fact, no one ever saw him sleep. He was awake when the first person rose, and was still up when the last person went to bed. Charlie Weasley swore up and down that he'd entered the house at three in the morning one time and Malfoy had been sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly at his hands.
During the day he stayed in the library, tucked away in a corner. He moved only to use the bathroom and shower, or to take food when he thought no one was looking. During the first few months, someone would poke their head into the library every few minutes, gradually lessening to once every few hours, to make sure he was still there. After a few months, they just stopped checking. He never moved.
At breakfast and lunch, people sporadically entered and exited the house - everyone was always in perpetual motion, it seemed - so it was easy for him to breeze in and out unseen and steal a sandwich or bowl of soup. Dinnertime was harder, because whoever was in the house stopped to eat as a family, and often times other Order members stopped in. Draco always attended dinner, sitting between Tonks and Harry and never lifting his eyes from his plate or saying a word.
Harry heard Tonks, Remus, and Arthur Weasley discussing it in hushed voices one evening - saying how he never spoke, how he wandered the house like a ghost, how they got more reactions out of a plant, he certainly wasn't healthy. No one ever saw him sleep, no one ever saw him move, save for meal times. They said it must have been months since he'd felt alive. It must have been months since he'd seen sunshine, since he'd lifted his eyes and looked someone in the face, since he knew who he really was. They said he was broken.
"Don't let him fool you," Harry had mumbled, unheard and unseen.
Author: Elle_S_Shadow
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry Potter doesn't like to have much to do with the wizarding world - not after he lost so much in the war. He takes comfort in hiding his life behind the excuse of his mysterious and secretive muggle roommate, Adam Coorfly. But when he starts to let himself live again, he uncovers secrets about his past and learns that sometimes fate can be right in front of you.
Beta: cynikal_lemon
Notes: I started writing this before Deathly Hallows came out. Then Deathly Hallows came out and I tried to throw in a few details from it here and there. So anything in my plot that you recognize from Deathly Hallows probably IS from Deathly Hallows. Lovely. Also, needless to say, but this goes AU after Half-Blood Prince. This fic is complete and will be updated every weekend.
Part One
Wednesday, April 12th
The next morning, Harry made his way down to Ragamuffins - he usually stopped there in the mornings anyway. He scanned the room. In the far corner, a woman with a toddler was trying to pry sugar packets out of his sticky fingers. A few tables over an elderly man was reading the paper.
Harry sighed and got in line behind two girls who were apparently stopping on their way to school.
"So I said 'No way, Nancy, if I'm doing this then you're going down with me'," One girl said animatedly to the other.
"Oh my god, what did she say?" The other asked, eyes wide.
"She was all like 'whatever', and stuff and then..."
Harry tuned them out as the bell above the door jingled merrily, and a young man stepped into the room, eyes scanning.
He looked about Harry's age. He was tall, and thin, very good looking, with auburn hair and blue eyes. He caught Harry's gaze and gave a tight-lipped smile.
Harry returned it, just as tightly, and went up to the desk.
"Hello, Amelia," he said.
"The usual?" She asked. Harry breathed a sigh of relief - she seemed to be on her best behavior today.
"Please," he said politely, and she turned to make his coffee: two sugars, one cream.
When she brought it back to him, he handed her the money and she smiled. "Did you get my message last night, Harry?"
So that's why she's behaving.
"I'm actually here to interview someone to take your old room. I told you, Amelia, it just doesn't work. We don't work."
She scowled at him, and he turned away, and headed to where the young man was looking on with interest.
"You certainly made her day," the young man quipped, watching Amelia blink back angry tears.
"It's all dramatics. She tried that the last three times I kicked her out. This time's for good," Harry paused. "Are you Mr. Coorfly?"
"Adam, please," Adam said, extending a hand, "And you are?"
"Harry Potter," Harry replied sitting down. "Alright. You're interested in being my flat-mate?"
"I need a place to stay," Adam allowed, "I've no where to go."
Harry wrinkled his brow. "Homeless?"
"Something like that," Adam nodded.
"Why? If you don't mind me asking."
Adam inclined his head. "Let's just say that I've fallen on hard times. I plan to look for a job as soon as I've found a place to sleep."
"You don't even have a job?"
"I'm fresh out of school," Adam lied, "and I've suddenly found myself on my own."
"You have no family willing to help you?"
"I have no family, period."
"I can understand that. I'm the same. So tell me about yourself, Adam."
Adam figured that 'Well, I was released from the hospital yesterday, where I had been in a coma for two months, and I remember nothing about myself' wouldn't work. "There's not much to tell. I'm quiet and I keep to myself. I'm a lousy cook. I'm rather partial to the colour green. That's about all there is."
"I'm sure there's more."
"We'll find out together, then," Adam muttered.
Harry was silent for a moment. "Right. I have a few... rules, I guess."
Adam nodded, leaning slightly forward.
"I... I value privacy. Very much. Most of the house is open. We have separate bedrooms and we share everything else. I just expect that my room be left alone, and I'll show you the same respect. Also, it is primarily my house. If you're going to have friends over late, they need to know how to be quiet. No wild parties - at least without my permission."
"You sound like a parent," Adam commented with a smile.
Harry shrugged. "If you can't agree, then it's not for you."
"No, no," Adam said, putting his hands up defensively, "I completely agree with all of that. Especially the privacy part. And you don't have to worry about my friends. It sounds perfect."
"Should I assume that you, being homeless, are currently unable to pay any sort of rent?" Harry asked.
Adam bit his lip lightly. "I plan to get a job immediately."
"I'd give you two weeks, tops, to get a job. I'm an understanding man, but I can't pay for this flat alone."
"I'll have a job by the end of the week. I promise."
"We can try it," Harry said, "When can you move in?"
"Now," Adam said, standing. "This is all I've got."
Harry looked at him. He was empty handed. However, he refrained from comment, and led the mysterious man out the door towards his flat.
Once inside, Harry gave him a quick tour. "Your room is through that door. Mine is across the hall. Remember what I said - do not go in there. I work down at the, er, some crappy old office buildings, actually. The number for my mobile is on that piece of paper by the microwave. You can call if you need me."
Adam didn't bother mentioning that he didn't know how to "call". Or what a "mobile" was.
"I'll be home at four," Harry said, opening the door, and peering at Adam closely. He had been positive for a second that his blue eyes were... different. But they were normal now, there was no question about that. Harry shut the door and headed down the stairs.
*****
"I've found somebody," Harry told Hermione as he passed her desk in the Ministry office.
Hermione counted to ten. Twice. "You don't need a flat-mate, Harry."
"It gets lonely."
"That's total crap, Harry. You used to bitch nonstop when Amelia was hanging around too much."
"She went in my room," Harry said, "And her damn friends would get drunk and be yelling all over my flat until four in the morning. And one time I came home and her friends Jack and Bethany were in my bed."
"Alright," Hermione agreed, "Amelia was a bit much. So tell me about her."
"Him," Harry corrected.
"Well?" Hermione prompted.
"His name's Adam Coorfly. He's our age. That's pretty much all I know."
Hermione frowned. "That doesn't seem very safe. What if he's an axe murderer?"
Harry laughed dryly. "As long as he's not Voldemort reincarnated, I don't give a shit."
"And he's a Muggle?" Hermione asked.
Harry nodded.
"Wonderful, Harry," she said sarcastically, "Just what you need. Another excuse to shy away from magic."
"I do not-"
"The only magical thing you do is your job here at the Ministry - and I have the funniest feeling that you're only doing that to appease everyone."
"I'm an Auror, Hermione! That's about as magical as it gets. It's not my fault they only let me do paper-work," Harry said angrily. He headed into his small, cramped office, and set about tackling the papers piling up in his "In" box.
*****
Back in the flat, Adam headed towards the bathroom to shower. He turned on the water so it could warm up and stripped off his shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror on the back of the door. He had an interesting scar on his chest, he noticed, probably from the accident. On his forearm was a faded tattoo. He couldn't make out what it was, but he thought it almost resembled a skull.
Funny... I didn't think tattoos faded that much...
He stepped into the water and washed quickly, hurrying to get out and dry off. He dressed again, and combed out his auburn hair. He frowned. It needed a trim.
He stepped into a jacket and wrote a short note to Harry, explaining that he was going to be around town searching for a job.
He made it halfway down main street before he saw a sign. It was an old antique shop, and it had a red and white "Help Wanted" sign in the window.
He entered the small shop, looking around. It was simply packed with almost everything imaginable. He was amazed that so much could fit in such a small space.
"Excuse me," he said politely to the man at the desk, "My name is Adam Coorfly. I'd like to inquire about the help wanted sign."
The man behind the counter seemed to be the oldest antique in the shop. He positively trembled as he moved, and his voice was thin.
"You'd like to work here?" The man asked, squinting up at Adam.
"What does the job entail, Mr...?" Adam asked, looking around.
"Mr. Fields. Desk work, selling, bartering, moving new things in and out. You look strong. Nothing you can't handle."
"And the hours?"
"Weekdays from seven til one. Saturdays from nine to two."
That was doable. "Wages?"
The old man grinned, and Adam noticed that he was nearly toothless. "It's open for discussion."
"I need to pay my rent," Adam said firmly.
The man cackled merrily. "Oh, it won't be a problem at all, not at all. Will you take the job?"
Adam sighed. He had to pay his half of the rent somehow, and this job was just as easy as any other. "Yes," he answered, "I will."
He noticed it on the floor on his way out - a 1940's Royal typewriter. "Does it work?" He asked Mr. Fields.
"More or less," he answered, "Take it. It's been sitting there for ages."
Adam picked it up. "It's heavy," he grinned, but he carried it all the way to the flat without breaking a sweat.
*****
Ten Things I Know About Myself
* My name is Adam Coorfly.
* I have red hair and blue eyes.
* I caught myself staring at five different men today at the cafe, and not a single chick.
* I've got a job at a local antique shop.
* I live with a man named Harry Potter.
* I'm fond of the colour green.
* I refuse to eat seafood, cherries, or caviar.
* I have no clue what caviar is, just that I won't eat it.
* I have music in my head, and when I hum it my fingers start moving like they're making it happen.
* Whenever I close my eyes and try really really hard to think about the car accident that did this to me, all I see is green light.
It wasn't perfect. It needed to be oiled badly, and he had to press very hard to get the letters to show, and sometimes he had to tug on the ribbon or it would stay in one spot until there was a hole where the letters hit, and the 'd' and 'y' keys stuck every single time, but it was something. For some reason, Adam felt fond of it.
He didn't notice Harry come home, but when he looked up the other man was leaning against the door frame to his room.
"What happened to privacy?" Adam quipped, before belatedly realizing that he was still in the 'smile, nod, and be polite' phase with his new flat-mate.
But, luckily, Harry smiled wryly. "Your door's open. Fair game. What's that monster?"
"A typewriter," Adam answered.
"Why not use a computer?"
"Much too complex," Adam said quickly, having no idea what a 'computer' was, and hoping his answer would work. Apparently it did.
"Typewriters are noisy," Harry pointed out.
"So are wild parties. Would you prefer that to my typewriter?"
"No," Harry said after a moment of thought, "I suppose not."
"Right," Adam said.
"What would you like for dinner?" Harry asked offhandedly.
"You don't need to cook for me."
Harry shrugged. "We'll split the grocery bills. The food in the house is for either of us. First come, first serve. If you're hungry, you cook. If there are leftovers, they're for the other person. Sound fair?"
Adam nodded.
"But tonight, I cook," Harry said firmly, "So what will it be? Chicken or pasta?"
"Whichever is easiest."
"Alright. Pasta. Why don't you go see if there's anything good on the telly while I cook?"
Adam bit his lip.
He didn't want to admit that he didn't know how to use the strange device. "I think I'll just type while I wait, thanks."
Harry nodded and went into the kitchen, taking a pot out of a cabinet and filling it with water. He looked over his shoulder to make sure Adam was still hidden away in his room, and pulled out his wand, muttering a heating spell. The water started to boil. Over in the next room, Adam's skin began to tingle, as if everything under his skin was suddenly coming alive.
After a few seconds, it passed, and Adam looked at his arms curiously. After his body remained normal for a few minutes, he sat down to type.
Ten Things I Don't Know About Myself
* What was I like?
* Was I nice?
* Did I have a family?
* Friends?
* Was I good at anything?
* Did people respect me?
* Even better- did people fear me?
* Was I rich?
* What was my job?
* Who am I now?
*****
"I got a job already," Adam boasted as they sat in the kitchen, eating the pasta.
"Already? Where?"
"The antique shop down the road," Adam said smugly, feeling very accomplished.
Harry nodded, and they ate in awkward silence for a few minutes.
"So," Harry asked, "Are you a writer?"
"Not really. It's more... personal." Adam took another bite.
Harry mulled over that for a moment. "Like a journal?"
"Something like that. I often find that my brain is holding too much. I feel like I need to let it out, somehow. Record it. So then I can have a few minutes of peace."
"I know how that is," Harry said.
They lapsed into silence and continued to eat.
After the meal, Adam rose silently and placed his dish in the sink. He headed back to the kitchen, where Harry was just finishing up.
Harry looked up. "I'll do the dishes tonight. Do you have to work tomorrow?"
"What's tomorrow?"
"Thursday."
"Yes. I have to be there at seven."
Harry nodded. "I've got to be at the office by nine. But I don't get home 'til much later tomorrow, so you're going to have to make yourself dinner or call for carry-out."
"That's fine," Adam said.
Harry nodded, and headed over to the sink, starting to run some water. Adam turned and headed into his bedroom, shutting the door and flopping onto the bed, closing his eyes. A few seconds later, his skin began to tingle, as if a thousand microscopic bugs were dancing around just out of sight. He felt alive, he felt as if he had power and it was just a little bit out of reach. And just as soon as it started, it stopped. Adam sighed and threw an arm over his eyes. Within seconds, he was asleep.
He didn't wake up until Harry knocked on the door a few hours later.
He groaned, and tried to sit up. He'd fallen asleep sprawled on his back across the bed, his shoes still on.
"Yes?" he managed to rasp, and the door opened.
Harry looked slightly taken aback by Adam's appearance - Adam figured his hair was probably sticking up all over, and he was sure he looked half-dead. He certainly felt it.
Harry handed him a small white box looking thing. "I figured your mental alarm clock would need some help," he said with a smile.
"Thank you." Adam said, wondering what the hell it was, and how to use it.
"There's an outlet next to the bed. You can just set it on the table."
"Thank you," Adam said again.
Harry nodded and left, shutting the door behind him. It was so strange, he thought, but in that low light, and sprawled out like that, Adam's hair had almost looked a bit less red. But when he'd sat up, it had been the same rusty color it always was.
Back in the room, Adam was staring at the plug in his hand and the outlet on the wall. Two prongs, two holes. It shouldn't be too hard, he reasoned. He pushed the plug into the holes, and to his surprise, the numbers on the front of the box lit up and started blinking.
He set it on the table and sat on the bed, glaring at it. "How do you work?" He asked it.
He read the buttons. "Time Set" one read, "Hour", "Minute", and "Alarm Set". And a little switch labeled "Alarm On/Off".
"You tell time!" Adam crowed, pleased with himself for figuring it out. He went to the door.
"Harry!" he called.
The door across the hall opened. "Yes?"
"What time is it? I have to set the time-teller."
Harry blinked at him. "The what?"
Oh shit. I don't know what they call it. What had Harry said before? It rhymed with cock, I think.
"The, uh, the... the crock."
"Clock?"
"That's what I said."
Harry glanced back into his room. "It's 10:08. And make sure it's on PM."
"How do I do that?"
Harry sighed, and stepped into the hallway. Adam backed out of his doorway to let Harry in. Harry sat on the bed and pushed a few buttons. "There," he said, and the clock blinked 10:09 PM.
"The alarm?"
"Will go off at 6:30. Is that enough time?"
"Plenty." Adam said.
"Great. Goodnight." Harry headed back to his room.
"Thank you," Adam said, but Harry was already gone. Adam shut his door and crawled into the bed, still not bothering to turn off the lamp.
*****
Draco had been given a bedroom near Harry's in Grimmauld Place, but no one ever saw him in it. In fact, no one ever saw him sleep. He was awake when the first person rose, and was still up when the last person went to bed. Charlie Weasley swore up and down that he'd entered the house at three in the morning one time and Malfoy had been sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly at his hands.
During the day he stayed in the library, tucked away in a corner. He moved only to use the bathroom and shower, or to take food when he thought no one was looking. During the first few months, someone would poke their head into the library every few minutes, gradually lessening to once every few hours, to make sure he was still there. After a few months, they just stopped checking. He never moved.
At breakfast and lunch, people sporadically entered and exited the house - everyone was always in perpetual motion, it seemed - so it was easy for him to breeze in and out unseen and steal a sandwich or bowl of soup. Dinnertime was harder, because whoever was in the house stopped to eat as a family, and often times other Order members stopped in. Draco always attended dinner, sitting between Tonks and Harry and never lifting his eyes from his plate or saying a word.
Harry heard Tonks, Remus, and Arthur Weasley discussing it in hushed voices one evening - saying how he never spoke, how he wandered the house like a ghost, how they got more reactions out of a plant, he certainly wasn't healthy. No one ever saw him sleep, no one ever saw him move, save for meal times. They said it must have been months since he'd felt alive. It must have been months since he'd seen sunshine, since he'd lifted his eyes and looked someone in the face, since he knew who he really was. They said he was broken.
"Don't let him fool you," Harry had mumbled, unheard and unseen.