Make Light
!
Chapter Two: Little Secrets
Harry would have thought more of the strange boy-man in pink boxers had it really been all that strange. Considering he'd seen worse, Harry just sort of shrugged and picked up his clothes, shoveling the rest of them into another, more applicable looking washer. This one didn't even have mold on the sides. A couple of charmed lint pieces turned into quarters and the thing was chugging along as if there was never an issue in the first place. If one could overlook the massive spillage coming from the unhinged machine two doors over, that is.
Pootie Tang was watching him from her seat slouched on the far side of the Laundromat, as her pee-child rubbed his hands over most of the chairs.
Harry decided to stand.
"Tackle an ocean there, did you?" Charlie chuckled, rubbing at the back of his copper colored hair, and tossing Harry a water.
The wizard caught it, before sinking into a couch and trying to shake out the water in his hair. It didn't work.
"Tried my hand at the Laundromat today." He said conversationally.
"How'd it go?"
'Terrible. It exploded." As Charlie got a great laugh out of this, Harry took a swig of his water. "Yeah, it happens a lot apparently. That's what the guy said, anyway."
"What guy?" Charlie tilted his head.
Harry shrugged. "Oh, just some other kid I met." And then, with a pause. "Strange bloke. He was wearing a really thin pair of pink shorts… and nothing else."
"Exciting." Were Charlie's intense word's of wisdom, before he changed the subject. "Anyway, why don't you come in today? Help me and some of the new guys out with the Ironbelly?"
Harry blanched. "Isn't that one of the more… temperamental breeds?"
Charlie laughed. "Hell yeah. But you can handle it." For extra effort, he gave Harry a loud shoulder clap, before getting up and swaggering to the other side of the room. Harry could tell he'd had a couple drinks that evening, as he veered to the left when he walked.
He took a moment, before remarking, "Sounds fun."
The sarcasm was lost upon the inebriated Charlie, who continued onwards to his room, laughing loudly.
The dragon tamer's housing was rather expansive, and mostly empty. As most dragon tamer's were solitary creatures of the wild, they mostly slept in tents around the reserve. For example, old Whethersprout, who wasn't really old at all but looked to be about thirty-eight, hardly ever came down from the mountain range.
Harry supposed Dragon Tamers were just like that, though. Did what they wanted, moved where they wanted, working in solitude.
He mused that maybe he'd learn to prefer the profession.
.
.
.
The following day found Jacob legitimately freaking out.
"I must've looked like such a tool!" The shifter kicked a tree. Climactically, it groaned and keeled over, falling into the brambles with a resounding thud.
Anticlimactically, Paul seemed absolutely unmoved by his gesture of profound disturbance.
"Yo, calm the fuck down." The guy flipped a page in his car magazine.
Jacob howled in what could have been considered rage, but was mostly depression.
"Fuck! He probably thinks I'm a dumbass. How could I just run out like that?" And then, with great remorse, "Where the fuck did my balls go?"
Paul finally looked up, laughing aloud. "Dude, they've been gone."
Jacob tossed upturned dirt at him.
The two had finished patrol, and had found a clearing to wait around in as they waited for Sam and Seth to finish up. Seeing as though it was Seth's first time round the perimeter, Sam wanted to make sure it was something of a group effort. They'd all meet up and make the final stretch home as a pack.
Commemorative gestures, or something like that.
Jake didn't really care. He was more upset over the fact he looked like a total douche in front of his imprint.
His imprint, for god's sake.
"I'm gonna be with him for the rest of my life!" He said, more to himself, but with his head tilted to the sky it sort of looked like he was praying in disbelief to god. "And I've already fucked it up."
"Obviously not for life then, huh?"
This was why Jake didn't like Paul.
He was an ass.
He didn't just look like one on the off occasion without meaning to (ahem, like some people), he was just a vindictive dick in general.
"You're still freaking out about this?" Quil emerged from the trees, pulling on his pants. "You'll have tons of other times to make a better impression. Calm down."
"That's what I've been saying!" Said Paul.
"No, you've just been constructively mocking me." Pointed out Jacob, with much sarcasm.
Embry followed soon after.
There wasn't much else Jake could do besides plop onto the ground, legs crossed and hands supporting him from behind. Beside him, Paul didn't seem to understand his dilemma at all, the fact only made marginally more acceptable because the shifter had yet to experience imprinting yet anyway. Sam would know, but quite honestly, Jake couldn't see himself having a heart to heart with Sam, of all people.
"He doesn't even know who I am." Sighed the Quileute. And then, with growing degrees of horror, "Or shifting, or imprinting."
Not knowing how to console him, the clearing went quiet.
Jake shifted his head into his hands. "I'm so fucked." He said, with feeling.
Again, no answer.
"I don't even know where to find him." The wolf muttered miserably.
What the hell was wrong with him? When had he turned into such a pansy? Seriously, this was getting ridiculous. He'd met some kid at a Laundromat for a total of a minute and a half and suddenly it was like a cornerstone of his world had been ripped out and he was now standing on the lilted axis of what was once his reality. And it sucked. Sucked bad.
"It'll be okay, Jake." Embry spoke up, though he looked like he wasn't quite sure of the words himself. "He's gotta be around here somewhere, right? Kids don't just make vacations to Forks." What was incredibly ironic was that, there were some who did. One of them being the boy in question. "Generally, they're here for the long haul."
"This isn't exactly a five star restort." Quil agreed wryly, gesturing to the dense forest around them.
Jake sighed. "Or he could just be stopping on his way to Port Angeles, or Seattle, or like, Vancouver or something. Maybe he was a hippie on a road trip? Or in some shitty bar band? Or—
"Well let's not get ahead of ourselves." Embry interrupted quickly, looking more stricken by the moment. It was completely unlike Jake to get so moody and emotional.
And then he remembered Bella Swan.
And quickly amended his statement.
When it comes to matters of the heart, Jake couldn't be any more of a sappy romantic puppy. And that was really the heart of the issue. Because this wasn't some infatuation for some girl with a suicidal streak. No, this was imprinting. And this was serious. This was someone that Jake had no control over, someone he was destined to love with the utmost adoration. The worst part was, it was never guaranteed if the imprintee would do the same.
"Why don't we head into town tomorrow? Ask around or something. I'm sure its probably all the rage with the high school kids if there's some new kid around here."
It went unsaid, but they were all remembering the waves Bella had spread on her first move to the dreary town of Forks.
.
.
.
The reserve was ridiculous.
There was no other word to describe its inordinate vastness. Who needed so much space? Dragons, obviously. This whole thing must cover the entirety of Vancouver Island, considering how much it spread over mountainous terrain and sloped hills, dusted with snow at some points and frosted grass.
Harry snuggled further into his enormous winter jacket, lined with charmed fire-ferret fur that brushed against his cheeks. The three of them, he Charlie and one of Charlie's dragon tamer friends, all wore similar outfits of dragon hide boots, denim and thick jackets.
Harry was glad he took the offered clothing, because it was so ungodly cold he could have attempted to cast thirty warming charms and they all would fizzle out of existence in mere moments.
In the distance, there was a clot of smoke rising over the waves of hills, to which he assumed Wethersprout had made camp at.
"There it is." Charlie pointed to the thin tendril of smoke climbing into the air some distance away. "Wethersprout's there. Prolly found the nest by now."
"Nest?" Harry echoed, voice rising.
Doris, the man who was accompanying them, looked to him, confused. "Well o' course!" His voice held a thick Scottish accent. "What do ya think we're here for? The Ironbelly's laid eggs, she has. Got to check on 'em."
Harry's already disturbed face may have gotten paler, descending into varying degrees of horror. He'd had his fair share of encounters with maternal instincts and fierce protective dragons. It wasn't an event he'd like to relive.
"Well come on you two!" Charlie called from quite a ways ahead of them, where he'd already trekked down the hill and was making his way over to the camp. "We've got a long way to go from here!"
Doris jogged up to his pace. Harry sighed.
This was going to be a long and tedious day.
His assumptions were correct.
Dragon taming was a romanticized career. Girls swooned over the thought of rugged, handsome men in their dragonhide boots and flame-repellant gloves, camping out in the wilderness among the stars, picturesque bonfire brightening the campsite. Perhaps Harry had sort of been under that illusion as well. While the rugged handsome men part was sort of a hit or miss—and in Charlie's case, direct bullseye—the perfect campsite and perfect job were completely off the mark. It was a perfect job for those who enjoyed singed eyebrows and being a hairsbreath away from being roasted, enjoyed being slammed into rock walls and eventually being chased out of a dragon's den, forced to retreat into the bitter cold.
This wasn't exactly Harry's idea of a vacation, but when faced with the thought of his silent apartment, of Ginny turned to the window, breath frosting the glass and looking like she'd conquered the dream, and now lingered in the bitter aftertaste, of the rug which was always crooked and the soap which was always wrong; he decided this was the better option.
Though perhaps there was something romantic about camping out among the stars.
It wasn't like Britain, where very few of them twinkled past the smog. They were a kaleidoscope of bright lights, glowing until the sky was lit and the ground was darkened.
Harry spent the majority of the night staring into the slow, spinning galaxy.
And come morning, he was blessedly thankful for the hot coffee placed before him.
The three ended up in a local Forks diner, of which had certainly seen better days, Harry pressed into the end of the window booth as the rest of the seat had been taken over by their enormous coats. Charlie looked disturbingly chipper this morning, and Dorris' blonde hair stuck straight up, as did his beard.
"I think we made some progress." Charlie mused pleasantly around his toast. "We should head back up there tomorrow to check on them."
Harry wondered if everyone in the profession was slightly suicidal, or just Charlie.
Doris, at least, seemed to be having second thoughts. "The hatchlings are a little young, don't you think?" He asked hesitantly. "Maybe we should go a bit later. Wait 'till the mums cooled down a bit."
Charlie looked like he agreed, and Harry stabbed fruitlessly at his pancake.
Legally insane—all of them.
Harry had nothing against dragons. He adored the Ridgebacks, who all seemed to adore him as well, and the Peruvian Vipertooth really was a work of natural beauty—but there was something incredibly stupid at the thought of willfully entering a dragon's den, a mother with recent hatchlings, at that, and not expecting to get fried to hell.
.
.
.
"So…" Embry held it up to inspect. "This is the only lead we've got?"
The three of them, Jake, Quil, and Embry, had made their way back to the rundown Laundromat where it all began. It was woefully sparse of any 'imprint-boy' clues, aside from his sock which had been left on top of the washer for a full day now. It officially smelt more like the pee-scent of the Laundromat then anything else.
"This was the machine." Jake gestured to the still unfixed washer in front of them. "So I hope to god it's the right one."
Quil sniffed the sock. "It smells like a human male, alright. There's something… spicy about it, don't you think?"
"Exotic?" Embry asked aloud. "Huh. You sure this guy wasn't like, an Asian monk or something? I've never smelt anything like this."
"I didn't really notice at the time." Jake shrugged. "The water from the machine was masking his scent. He looked like a regular kid to me though."
"Well there's no point in thinking about it now. I'm going to head down Cedar Avenue and see if I can pick anything up!" He turned to Jake. "You take Campbell Street, and Embry'll take Division. We'll all meet up and comb the rest of the town, okay?"
Jake nodded wordlessly, though he looked even more dejected then he had been before. Most likely because this entire effort was looking more futile by the moment.
As the three split up, none particularly expected to find the lead they were looking for.
Which made it incredibly more amusing that, after a long hour of searching to no avail, they found the object of their morning lounging in the back booth of the Forks diner. Jake could have cried in relief.
The three had grown incredibly hungry after hunting around the small town of Forks for so long, and had decided upon gorging themselves on the enormous portions of cheap food.
There was very little that Jake could completely pinpoint about the boy, aside from the vivid, unimaginable green of his eyes and askew dark hair, but it was almost like he'd subconsciously traced every detail from their ninety second encounter. He looked worn out, like he'd been fighting a rancor for the better part of the morning, wearing a long sleeved shirt and hair windswept. It was his eyes though, that really perfected the image. They were glowing so brightly that Jake could make the emerald of them out from his spot at the bar.
He choked on his milk, and Embry turned to him questioningly.
"Heimlich maneuver?" He questioned jokingly, most likely wanting to break a couple ribs.
Jake waved him off. "No its—its—…" He sputtered a little more, sort of at a loss for words. It was weird, almost frighteningly so, to sit a few feet away from the boy who haunted his dreams for the better part of the week. Like finally meeting the object of your desires after so long preparing yourself for it, then finding they're so much… greater in person and getting impossibly nervous in their presence.
At this point, Quil had turned around as well, following Jake's gaze. "No way—is that—?"
"What?" Embry spun around. "Where? Where!"
Jake made a vague noise in the back of his throat, like he was slowly having a nervous breakdown.
Embry eventually found their gaze, and the three stared blatantly from across the semi-crowded early-morning rush.
He looked… normal.
But there was something entirely off about him.
The tall redhead imprint-boy was with turned to their waitress—she looked familiar—and flashed her a smile as she handed him the cheque. Jake's imprint attempted to grab it first but the redhead had maneuvered it successfully away from him. He eventually was able to throw the tip down, before they all stood and grabbed their coats.
Jake looked like he was going to bolt over there and tackle him straight into the window.
Embry did a double take at his friend, who was already half-lunging out his stool, and held him back with a strong arm. "Hey—whoa! Calm down there Jake. You're not thinking about this."
"Yeah." Quil agreed, and Jake wondered when the two of them had got so smart—or he so stupid. "What are you gonna do when you get over there? Freak him out? He's human, Jake. He doesn't know anything about your more… special qualities."
The large boy took a deep breath, inhaling slowly before slumping back into his chair. "You're right."
There was a depressing note in his voice that had never been in their before. Quil gave him a sympathetic look, rubbing his friend's shoulder.
"But when will we see him again?" Jake looked miffed and upset all at once, speaking to both of them. "It was like, a fucking miracle we even saw him today."
Jake had a point. They spent the better part of the morning combing the streets on a barely-there lead of a musty, dripping wet sock. It was by a miraculous stroke of luck that they ended up taking a break at the same place the boy was eating his breakfast. It was impossible that their luck would ever turn out the same.
He blinked, before smiling ruggishly. "Don't worry Jake, I got this."
The shifter looked up, questioningly, but Embry was already swaggering to the computers, where their waitress was closing their cheque.
"Hey!" He called to her, and she spun around. "You're Jessica, right?"
The girl looked confused that Embry could possibly know her.
"Yeah," Embry was saying, as one hand quickly swiped something off of the counter. "You're Bella Swan's friend, right? You guys came down to La Push once—
It took Embry about three seconds flat to get the girl from cautious to jumping in ecstatic joy. "Really?" She was gushing. "You guys are Bella's cliff diving friends? That's so amazing…"
Eventually Embry swaggered back to them, plopping down beside a moping Jake and curious Quil, as he dropped something in front of the shifters.
Coins.
Jake sniffed at them. They smelt a bit like burnt bacon and Embry's hand… but mostly…
"They're his." Jake breathed in, and there it was, that perfect, tingling smell that he'd never quite smelt anything like before.
Embry nodded with a smirk. "You can kiss my feet now."
.
.
.