TBGCTBGC
He Defines Me
Chapter Sixteen
Harry's POV: Three-Years-Old
Master says I have a memory like a video recorder, of course, he then refuses to tell me what a video recorder is. I think it means I remember things well. My absolute earliest memories are of the Singing Lady. The aren’t clear, I don’t even know what she looks like, but I remember her.
I also remember Lady Narcissa. I have an image of her from when I was really small and she was holding me with this utter look of contempt on her face. I suppose that’s why I don’t like her very much. In truth, I hide when I hear her coming down the hall.
Then there’s Mister Malfoy, he’s just confusing. I can never tell what he’s thinking. Most of the time he ignores me, unless I draw attention to myself, the rest of the time he seems to be evaluating me. It’s unnerving to have someone sizing you up every time you see them, but I suppose I’m used to it. Although, I still wonder sometimes what he’s comparing me to.
Mister Pettigrew was a constant in my life until thirteen. I wonder what happened to him. He was nice to me even if he seemed perpetually nervous. The man was afraid of his own shadow. I would hide and wait for him to pass by so that I could jump out at him. It looked like he was having a heart attack and I really don’t know why I found that so amusing.
Mister Lestrange came on rare occasions, but I’ve never liked him. He unnerves me, stares at me. I don’t run from him like I do from Lady Narcissa, but only because he’ll find me and make me stand out in the open until he leaves. He doesn’t like things to be hidden while he’s around. My fear of him is irrational and I know it, he would never hurt me, Master would never allow it. It’s just... he smells like blood.
And of course, there’s Master. Master is everything comforting and familiar. He’s always there, always holding me. He never lets me feel truly lonely. When I’m scared, when I’ve had a nightmare, or I’m hurt I just want to curl up in his lap and listen to him breath into my hair. It doesn’t even matter that he’s cold because he’s all I’ve ever wanted, all I had ever known to want.
The Singing Lady is different from them all. There’s no face to go with the voice, just a soft, melodic tone that I never remember after waking up. I can’t even describe how she makes me feel, it isn’t just comfort, it’s more. It’s something I don’t think I had even come close to feeling until Severus, but it isn’t the way I feel for him, it’s so... different. Sometimes, when I haven’t heard her voice in a while, I like to hope that I’ll dream about her when I sleep. I think I miss her.
In my earliest clear memories I am three years old. The room was much larger to me then, it was like a palace. The carpets were a deep green that looked black at night, the walls were pinstriped in the same green and a shining silver, and the bed was fitted with silk black sheets, and a thick silk, goose feather comforter of, again, the same green. Master had an obsession with green; I had heard Mister Malfoy say so, and though I don’t remember exactly what happened, I do vaguely recall the distraught look on his face as I clapped my hands, repeating ‘obseson’ over and over as loud as I could.
The room looked so different then. There was no amour, as it wouldn’t be bought until I was six. Instead, that wall was occupied by a changing table, dresser, and an out of place plastic toy chest. The toy chest was the bane of my existence as I could never figure the latch out. Eventually, after several minutes of attempting to open it I would resort to making loud, annoying noises until either Master or Tibby did it for me. I strongly suspect it was charmed to keep me out.
There were few books and no bookcase at the time, only a small stack of old volumes next to a drafting table in the right hand corner that the large plush chair would later monopolize. The only things that never changed in the room were the large four poster bed and my cage. They sat together as they always would.
I never felt animosity towards my cage, never before. Looking back at the memory it seems to glare at me, taunt me. It’s hard to tell if the emotions are brought on by what Severus has taught me or if they were always there and I just never noticed. Maybe I always hated the cage, maybe I just didn’t understand what hate was.
The bedroom was in stark contrast to the bathroom which had been strictly under the control of Lady Narcissa. The tiles were stark white, the walls painted a bright, gleaming yellow. The large bay window had been fitted with a bench seat that opened to store towels and sheet, and enchanted so that it could not be seen from the outside. Due to the fact that Master hated sunlight it was usually covered by the stiff flower curtains he had insisted she put up; well, the flowers had not been his decision. The bathroom was divided into two parts. The first was a smaller room with a wide sink, wall sized mirror, and the window. The second part was slightly larger as the giant tub had to be fit comfortably inside of it with room for the toilet. There was little else, only a rack to hold two towels for when Master or I finished bathing.
One particular day stands out in my mind from back then. Through the bathroom window I could tell it was bright. Master had left the curtains partially open as I became distressed when he shut them. I don’t think I so much wanted to see the sun as I wanted him to pay attention to me.
Tibby had been minding me for some hours. Master had been at the drafting table, and while I didn’t know what he was doing at the time, hindsight allows me to surmise he was planning some attack or another. I was mostly bothered by the fact he had ignored me the better part of the day, waking me up and feeding me for only a few moments before passing me off to the house elf and he hadn’t looked up since.
Tibby had bathed and dressed me, and was trying fruitlessly to get me to build something with the giant blocks laying at my feet, but I just stared at Master, hoping he would notice and come pick me up. I could sit quietly on his lap and even fall asleep if it pleased him, I just hated being ignored.
For all this, I made no noise, just stared. It had been my experience, however miniscule, that if I cried Master was less likely to pay me mind. I was just beginning to give up and set about the task of systematically knocking down the towers Tibby had erected when I heard the clap of boots on the hall floor.
By then I had become familiar with the variant sounds of people walking down the hall. Lady Narcissa’s shoes clicked, quick and precise. Mister Pettigrew shuffled as though he were nervous. Master never wore his shoes inside of the house, making soft thuds as he marched through the halls. Mister Malfoy always wore his boots. In retrospect I have only seen him take them off when he plays with me, and he’s always sure to put them back on afterward.
I stopped the destruction of the building blocks to look up as the door opened. Until then I had never had the inclination to walk. Master woke up in the morning and carried me around till Tibby had breakfast set up, at which time he would feed me, and hand me over to be bathed. Most days I spent sitting in his lap, and should he leave the room he would always pick me up upon returning. I didn’t need to walk.
Mister Malfoy was different. He always regarded me with an air of detached curiosity, especially at that age. As I got older he would touch my cheek or ruffle my hair, most especially when he began ‘playing’ with me, but as a small child he seemed reluctant for physical contact. I, however, wanted the attention rather badly, that day in particular. So, as he closed the door behind him, blond hair hanging around his shoulders, standing perfectly straight to report whatever it was he had come to report, I decided that if he would not come to me, I would go to him.
Pressing my hands firmly against the floor I pushed myself up, rocking on the balls of my feet as I sought to steady myself. Both men were far too wrapped up in conversation to notice my awkward steps towards the tall blond until I had thrown arms tightly around his leg.
Hearing that the voices had stopped I looked up and into Mister Malfoy’s face, to see it wrought with the strange mix of curiosity and confusion that I had come to identify with him. Smiling broadly, I couldn’t help laughing as he became even more perplexed, "Mister Malfoy!"
His expression wavered for a moment, but I had no time to think on it as Master’s voice came from behind me, catching my attention, "Pet."
I looked back and saw him hunched over in his chair, arms extended in my direction. Letting go of Mister Malfoy I made my way slowly through the room, falling only once before reaching the safe and sought after arms of Master. He picked me up and sat me on his lap, staring down at me with neither pride for my having accomplished the task nor frustration that it had taken me so long, just mild relief and disinterest as I sat there, content to now have his attention.
He sighed and almost seemed to smile, though not quite, "Finally."
It didn’t occur to me then that he should have been proud, that he should have smiled, I was just so relieved that he was holding me. Perhaps I was as relieved as he was.
-tbc-