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Theatre ch.1
🕑 Added 2024-06-02 22:05:22 +0000 UTCThe sun had risen. A small beam of light fell on the top edge of Harry Potter's television. He paused his game, set the controller down, and stood up to adjust the makeshift curtain made of a blanket hanging over the window. In doing so, he knocked over an empty soda can and nearly stepped on a plate with half-eaten food.
Harry's legs were half asleep, and a painful tingling spread through them as blood rushed back into his muscles. He began to pull one edge of the blanket higher. The other side tore, allowing bright sunlight to burst in. He winced, squinted, and tried not to compare himself to a vampire. Bad memories from the war had turned these usually romanticized monsters into nightmares for him.
He had two weeks of vacation behind him, and all the days were starting to blur together. Harry planned to play video games and stay in his room for the entire duration of his vacation. His cell phone was turned off. He had delayed turning it back on to the point where the thought of checking texts and voicemails seemed akin to self-harm.
After securing the blanket back in place, Harry returned to his spot on the floor, leaning his back against pillows propped between him and the side of the bed, and resumed his game.
Harry was busy searching for the orc boss. He had read online that it was hidden a short distance from a beaten mountain path between two towns in the game. If he could find and kill it, the sword he would receive as a reward would become his new weapon.
The television was loud enough that Harry didn't realize his stepmom was at the door until she started knocking. He didn't respond. The door was locked, and he had no intention of getting up to let her in.
"Harry! Sweetheart, did you hear me?" Narcissa's voice was worried, authoritative, and a bit desperate. "Please, just open the door."
He tried to ignore her. Of all the people in his life, his stepmom was the one he couldn't push away. She still cooked his meals, did his laundry, and cared for him as best she could after he saved her from an unwanted marriage in his second year at Hogwarts. Narcissa had taken over the care of Harry, fully dedicating herself to him after Draco's death in the Chamber of Secrets.
As Harry learned, Narcissa had been a part of his life shortly after his birth and was the only family he had ever known. Along with his adopted sister, she had essentially raised Harry alone, given the long periods when Harry's father, James, was away for work and new romantic pursuits.
"I'm coming in!" There was a click in the door mechanism, and stepmom entered, holding a plastic gift card in one hand and looking slightly pleased with herself. She began reaching for one of the blankets on the window but then changed her mind and instead turned on the overhead light.
"What do you want, stepmom?" Harry asked. He frowned and paused the game to look at her, blinking twice as his eyes focused on her features.
Harry was, at this moment and generally, very aware that Narcissa was like a mother to him. She was the authority in the house and managed to discipline him and get her way more often than other parents, as far as he could see.
But that didn't stop his red-blooded, 18-year-old hormones from flaring up when he looked at her. She was a petite woman, a head shorter than him now that he had crossed into adulthood.
She had shiny white-blonde hair, slightly longer than shoulder length. It was wet and tucked into the collar of her white cotton robe. Her eyes were a deep, crystalline blue and matched her beautiful oval face like gems set in expensive jewelry.
Moreover, Narcissa had a body that even Playboy stars would envy if they existed in their small town. Her breasts were large and firm for a woman in her thirties. The soft curves of her hips and buttocks were eye-catching and absolutely mesmerizing in the right outfit.
All this meant that his stepmom was the center of attention wherever she appeared. Men desired her. Women hated her. And all the while, Narcissa smiled politely, seemingly unaware of the true extent of her attractiveness. She was the type of woman who legitimized definitions of concepts like "beauty," "sex appeal," and "drop-dead gorgeous."
Harry realized he had been staring at her blankly for a few seconds, not listening to what she was saying. He looked away, reminding himself that she was his stepmother and tried to blame his reaction on the fact that it had been over a week since he had seen another woman in person. She was just a woman, like any other. It just so happened that she was somewhat attractive and also his stepmother, and Harry reminded himself that none of these facts were that significant.
"Harry? His stepmom folded her arms across her chest and frowned. "Are you listening to me?"
"Oh, uh..." His voice was hoarse and weak from not using it for a few days. "Sorry, what did you say?"
"I've scheduled an appointment for you this morning, sweetheart," she said. "Listen, I know you're still unsure about this kind of thing, but I researched this therapist in advance. Her name is Dr. Apolline Delacour. She specializes in cases like yours."
"Cases like mine?" Harry shook his head and frowned. "What does that mean?"
"Sweetheart... His stepmother leaned forward, the opening of her robe slightly parting to reveal some cleavage. "You know exactly what I mean. You're a young man with your whole life ahead of you, and you're withdrawing from the world."
She placed a hand on his cheek and slowly turned Harry's face to meet hers. Then she slowly leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. The contact of her lips with his skin was much warmer than it should have been.
"I'm just tired, stepmom," Harry said. "I'm just decompressing from the end-of-year stress."
"And I've been helping you as much as I can," Narcissa said. "But this..." She gestured to the room around them. "It's not healthy after a certain point."
Harry took a deep breath. His stepmom placed a hand on his chest as if trying to transfer some of her own energy and will directly through his heart.
"Okay," Harry said after a few long seconds. "But I'm only going so you'll stop bugging me about it."
"I don't mind. His stepmother smiled at him, looking very pleased with herself.
A strange, irrational fear began to form in Harry's stomach as he approached the door. Over the past two weeks, his room had become his entire kingdom, and every time he stepped out, whether to get food or drop off laundry, he felt exposed and a bit anxious.
He forced himself to walk through the sunlit hallway, which was almost too bright for his eyes. Harry stopped by the bathroom, stepped inside, and closed the door behind him, regaining a bit of his sense of control.
The face looking back at him in the mirror was disheveled, downcast, and hard to recognize. Harry brushed his teeth, shaved, and then stepped into the shower, trying not to think about how long it had been since he had last done these three things.
The water pleasantly caressed his hair and face. He took a deep, calming breath. Maybe seeing a therapist would help, he thought. A small part of him wanted to return to normal life, with a normal sleep schedule and normal habits. The rest of him wasn't sure if he knew how to do that and wondered if therapy might be what he needed to bridge that gap.
Harry's mind wandered. He thought about all the things he missed in the outside world: the smell of summer air, feeling the grass under his bare feet, and women strolling in thin, flirtatious dresses. He began to get aroused, both mentally and physically.
"Harry?" A knock on the door accompanied by the voice of his caretaker, Narcissa, brought him back to reality. "One of your friends is calling."
The door started to open, and Harry quickly turned off the shower. He hastily wrapped a towel around himself as Narcissa stepped into the bathroom.
"Jesus, Narcissa!" He shook his head, trying not to blush, hoping she wouldn't notice the bulge under the towel. "You could have told them to call back."
Narcissa frowned and looked like she wanted to say something, but then she changed her mind. She handed him the phone, and as Harry took it from her, his towel loosened, allowing his erection to spring into view. He winced and turned aside. "Hello?"
"Harry, man!" Ron's voice was clear on the other end of the line. "I thought you were dead or something."
"Sorry," Harry mumbled. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Narcissa was still in the bathroom. She looked like she was waiting to take the phone back but was blushing, her eyes fixed downward.
"I've called and texted you like a hundred times, no joke," Ron said. "Are you avoiding me or what?"
"No, it's not that," Harry said. "I just..."
He trailed off, feeling clumsy in conversation and more than a little distracted by Narcissa's presence. He squatted and reached for the towel, managing to lift it and hold it up to his face like a shield.
"We're on our way to you," Ron said. "We'll be there in about five minutes."
"Ron, wait," Harry said. "I—"
"Nope, not taking no for an answer! See you soon!"
The call ended. Harry frowned and looked at his phone, then at Narcissa. She was staring at the bathroom wall, her whole face red.
"Thanks, Narcissa," he said, handing her back the phone.
"Anything I can do to help, honey." She left the bathroom without looking at him.
Harry finished his shower as quickly as he could, then went back to his room to get dressed. A strangely compelling voice in the back of his head urged him to stay, to forget about Ron and his friends. Nothing good could come from their meeting, and everything good could come from playing and getting a new sword.
He pushed those thoughts aside, finished dressing, and returned to the hallway. A morning walk around the house was something he hadn't done since the start of the holidays. When he entered the kitchen and smelled the breakfast Narcissa was making for him, the scent was almost too intense.
His caretaker smiled at him. She had changed into one of the thin, flirtatious dresses he'd been thinking about earlier, and it fit her well, though Harry tried not to notice.
"We're leaving in about fifteen minutes," she said. "I hope that doesn't interfere with your plans to meet your friends."
Harry shook his head slightly.
"It's fine," he said. "Really. Don't worry about it."
A car honked outside. Harry walked to the front door, opened it, and stepped outside. He felt awkward and a bit scared. Ron's bright red sedan was parked on the street in front of the house. A couple was pushing a baby stroller on the sidewalk, and another man was jogging in athletic shorts and a tank top. Harry felt like everyone was staring at him, waiting for him to make a fool of himself, and although he knew it was irrational, he couldn't shake the thought.
Ron honked again, and Harry blinked a few times before starting to walk over. All the windows were down, and Harry could see Seamus and Dean in the passenger and back seats.
"Hey," Harry said. "What's up?"
"We're getting ready to head to the university," Ron said. "There's a special open campus event this afternoon. I thought we might as well check it out since we'll be spending the next few years there."
A lump formed in Harry's throat. He felt like hitting his head against something hard. Magic London University, or rather not getting into Magic London University, was what had caused him to withdraw from the world. "I..." Harry tried to speak, but the words were hard to form. "I... can't."
"Why the hell not?" Ron asked.
Harry hadn't told him. He hadn't told anyone except Narcissa.
"I didn't get in," he finally managed. Everyone in the car looked at him as if he had just revealed he was an alien.
"You didn't get in?" Ron raised an eyebrow, smiling. "That's ridiculous. Everyone I talked to who applied got in, and you were in the Battle of Hogwarts. They didn't accept you, brother?"
"I didn't get in," Harry repeated.
Seamus laughed from the back seat. Another jogger, this time a woman in her twenties, slowed down as she approached the sidewalk where Harry stood, seemingly assessing the situation based on Harry's distressed expression.
"That sucks," Ron said. His expression didn't change. If anything, it had a bit more humor in it, as if an unkind joke had been played on Harry that he couldn't help but find amusing.
"Yeah..." Harry said. "I should probably..."
"Wait, what are you planning to do?" Seamus asked. "For the next few years, I mean."
Harry bit his lip. His heart felt heavy, and his stomach was in knots.
"I'm going to Magic Trade School," he said.
"You're seriously telling me you're going to be stuck in this small town?"
Those words hit Harry deeply, even though he knew Ron didn't mean it that way. He forced a smile, though more than anything, he wanted to retreat back to his room.
"Like I said," he repeated. "I didn't get in."
This time Seamus and Dean started laughing. Ron looked like he wanted to join them despite the empathy he apparently felt for Harry.
"Well," Ron said after regaining his composure. "I guess you wouldn't enjoy coming with us then."
Harry shook his head, not wanting to talk anymore.
"See you later!" Ron drove off, the car making a loud noise as it sped through the neighborhood.
