He was hot, and exhausted. After playing half a game of soccer, performing forensic work, police work, and finding out that his brothers had planned a surprise visit, all Harry James Weasley wanted to do was take a shower. Of course, that couldn't happen easily.
Draco's hair shone in the sun before him, "Harry, are we going to be suspects?"
"We won't know until the victim is identified. However, I don't think we will be. As far as I know, none of us are friends with a fifteen to eighteen year old male." Harry answered wearily.
"There are some who come by the restaurant regularly, but none of us really know them further then names, and faces." Ryan shrugged his huge shoulders.
"I doubt we're suspects." Harry looked up at the twins with his boss, "I need to go save them, and get to work."
"It's Saturday." Malcolm pointed out.
"The first forty-eight hours of a murder investigation are vital. We all know that." Draco answered, "Harry James is a full investigator now, and we have to adjust."
"I'm just an intern."
Draco pointed up at the trio, "Go, before I punch you again."
Harry trudged up the stairs with his hands in his pockets. More practice was needed for sure with how much his lower leg muscles ached simply walking up the flight.
"Like we said, Harry doesn't know that we're here." Fred was telling Booth.
"So we were hiding." George finished.
"I knew." Harry sat next to Booth, "You two stick out in a nonexistent crowd. Booth, are you done with them?"
"I guess." Booth sighed in clear frustration, "But neither of you are leaving the area until this case is solved."
"Yes, sir." Fred and George chorused with mock solutes.
Booth went to leave, but was stopped for a moment by Harry, "Agent Booth, I'm going to take them to my apartment, and shower before heading to the lab. If you need me for anything, just call."
Booth nodded, and left in a huff.
Green eyes bore into the twin pairs with piercing anger, and disappointment. It was almost as though Harry had been possessed by their mother for a minute to simply glower at them since it was the exact same look. Hands on hips, no blinking, mouth slanted to one side, and cheeks huffed up.
"Have we told you lately-" Fred began.
"That you're our favorite brother?" George ended.
"Oh, no! That is not getting you out of this! Just wait until I tell mum about this! I have no problem with you visiting, but you're suppose to tell me first. What if it was exam week, or I was working on an important case and you two messed something up?"
"But you weren't-"
"And we didn't."
"Plus, we're not here to see you. We're here on official business for The Order Of The Phoenix."
"Which wasn't suppose to take longer then a day. However, you're friend said we aren't allowed to leave until you solve the case."
"What official business for The Order?" Harry's interest had been peeked.
"We aren't saying-"
"Until you solve the case."
Their walk back to Harry's apartment was pure agony. The kept teasing him about Zack, his bosses, and anything else they could think of. Harry showered quickly, and locked them in. It wouldn't hold them, but his threats to "tell mum you almost cost me my job" would.
Sliding the smooth, blue lab coat on over his black vest was soothing to Harry. He loved police work, but science was his true love. The stainless steal table with their murder victim on it was in the middle of the raised platform. It was a macabre beauty.
"Have you found anything?" Harry jogged up to the body after stashing his skateboard.
"Angela is working on a facial reconstruction." Zack answered since he was the only one there, "Hodgins is testing his particulates. Dr. Brennen and Agent Booth are having lunch. Dr. Saroyan is suppose to arrive soon, and start the autopsy. Meanwhile, I've already x-rayed the remains. Look here at the clavicles, and corresponding vertebrae."
Harry gazed at the x-rays as asked for a minute, before realization struck, "There are marks; hundreds of them. What do you think happened?"
"Undetermined."
There was silence for five minutes, before Harry came to a conclusion, "Cat of Nine Tails."
"The whip? There are more then nine marks."
"He was beaten repeatedly in the same approximate area. It's impossible to hit the exact same place enough times to reach bone." Harry looked over at the body. It was covered in blood. His kind of thing. Each wrist and ankle had it's flesh pulled away from the bone, and there were deep marks on each side of his neck.
"I'm not sure hanging was the cause of death. The marks on his neck aren't from the rope. They're too far down. It's a colonial form of bloodletting that was common in Spanish settlements. Also, the skin being pulled back like that is a form of amputation from the same place, and time period. He was tortured, and judging from the amount and location of the blood, just prior to death."
Zack accepted Harry's experience in the area of blood, "Fill Dr. Saroyan in when she gets here. I want to go buy my lunch before their sold out."
Harry smiled, "That won't be needed. I made a huge vat of macaroni and cheese last night. Even with the twins here, it won't all get eaten. I brought you some."
Zack was beaming. He had admitted to missing a lot of things about Harry, but his cooking was a major one. The only thing Zack had missed more was the sex. That Mac'n'Cheese was created just for him. Unbeknown to Zack, Harry put fruits, and vegetables into the cheese that were so minute that Zack couldn't taste them, but they gave him nutrition.
When Dr. Saroyan arrived five minutes later, they filled her in, then settled down to eat. They chatted happily, until Angela sat down next to Harry, and stole a bite of his food.
"That's really good." She told him.
"Thanks."
"We have an ID. Liam MacIntosh, age fifteen. Foster child." She offered them her sketch of a boy with black hair, blue highlights, blue eyes, and Caucasian, "Booth wanted Harry to go with them when they talk to the boy's foster father."
"I can do that. Name and address?"
"They're coming to pick you up. His name is Hunter Green, he's in his forties."
Harry gawked at her. Trying his best not to tremble. Breathing had gotten difficult, his wrists and ankles ached in memory, and he could almost feel the anal burn again.
"Harry," Angela was calling, "Are you alright?"
"Just a headache." Harry murmured, coming back to them, "Do you have any pain killers?"
"Sure." She patted his shoulder comfortingly, and left.
"That is not a headache." Zack whispered, "Are you sure it's him?"
"I won't know until I see him." Harry answered, "Do you think we could talk Booth and Dr. Brennen into letting you come with us? I'd feel better if there was somebody who know with us if it is him."
"We can try."
