Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Seventeen
A/N: Okay, I promise you, the Nancy/George Saga will be resolved this chapter. So, Crawler, if you're still out there, chapter eighteen will get back to the original plotline. I feel kinda bad for abandoning it like that, for the sake of love. Ah, but what a sake. I WISH I HAD SOME!!!!!!!!!! (I'm not bitter.)
OK, what is UP with all the begging for me not to make this a Harry/Hermione fic? I happen to LIKE H/H fics personally, and you can't stop me even if I decide to make it one! *sticks out tongue* MEH!
Seriously folks, this is what I think J.K. Rowling's gonna do with book five. And, therefore, I shall not have really that much main character romance. Well. I'm gonna eat my foot later, but right now, NO! So just relax, alright? Ugh, you won't pull a Crawler on me and decide not to read my story anymore if I put them together, will you? PLEEAASE DON'T!! I don't think I can take any more rejection!
DISCLAIMER: The many voices in my head have aided in developing this plotline. and not ONE of them owns the idea of Harry Potter, either!
* * * * *
George was standing in the doorway of the Olive Branch Room, breathing heavily, staring at the rather stunned face of Butch Freeston. Harry was so stunned he could barely move.
"HARRY WILL NOT MARRY NANCY!! If anyone should, it's ME!!" George shouted.
Harry could tell the only reason the Colonel hadn't beaten George to a pulp yet was he was shocked. But he was fast recovering from his stupor, and getting redder and redder in the face.
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" he roared, his jaw looking as if it had come unhinged.
"George Henry Weasley, sir."
"And where the HELL do you get off interrupting me?" Mr. Freeston persisted.
"W-well, you see sir, I'm the one that's going with Nancy."
The Colonel's eyes popped out of his head like large, round gumballs with reddish veins etched all over the surface. "WHAT?!"
"It was a big misunderstanding between Harry, Nancy, and I, and everybody got the wrong impression. I've no idea how Witch Weekly got wind of the thing, but before you know it, everyone in the world's beating down poor Harry's door over something that never even happened." George rattled off in record time.
The man looked like he wasn't even breathing. Finally, after blinking rapidly a few hundred times, he turned to Harry and his eyes narrowed. "So you and Nancy were never."
"Nuh-uh." Harry replied, shaking his head.
"And this kid here's the."
"Yessir." George confirmed, though a bit shakily.
Mr. Freeston sighed deeply, then plopped himself down in a chair. "Explain yourself, boy." he ordered.
George seemed taken aback, but began stammering reasons nonetheless. "Nancy and I are both in Gryffindor House, and we really first met when she got hurt - we hit it off right away - both of us share a love for the entrepreneur business. I hid our relationship at first because I was afraid of what people would think, me being six years older than her and all."
"Some people might see that as a sign of cowardice." spat Nancy's father. The look of disgust on the man's face was enough to make Harry fall down, if he hadn't already been sitting. But George didn't bat an eye and seemed to get enraged.
"Look here, Mr. Freeston," George began, taking a step towards him. "I love your daughter, and I know she's in love with me. I may not be Harry Potter, but dangit I'm still a person! I've lived through the Acideratorr Curse, having to get prosthetic legs, and resigning my position as beater on the house quidditch team. And I'm going to live through this too, whether you like it or not."
The Colonel was dumbfounded. He was slouched down in his chair, running his hands over his chin stubble absentmindedly. "Beater, eh?" the man commented after awhile.
"Best one Hogwarts has seen in fifty years, besides my twin brother Fred. And probably my other brother, Ron. England's International Team wanted me for their beater, right out of school and everything."
This seemed to impress Mr. Freeston sufficiently, because he looked especially furious with himself. "I was a beater at Hogwarts myself, could've gone pro if I wasn't committed to the military. Tough position to play, beater. Takes grit, and strength." he conceded.
"Sir, I may not be wealthy, or famous, or anything special at all, but I promise to you that I will treat your daughter with the utmost respect and love until the day I die." George swore, walking over to his father-in-law and taking a seat next to him.
Mr. Freeston stared at the velvet box in his hand. "Promise, you say?"
(^*^)
It took a full half hour to explain the whole scenario to Nancy's mother. She kept shooting longing looks towards Harry and pointing at him, muttering incoherent words of confusion. "Shabadoo?" she questioned, pleading with her husband.
"No Denise, GEORGE is our little Nancy's boyfriend." the Colonel would correct, moving her finger so it pointed at the redhead.
She would then emit a loud, high-pitched squealing noise that probably shattered glass and the eardrums of small mammals, immediately followed by a long, contemplative silence. Then Mrs. Freeston would point at Harry yet again, and the whole exhausting process would repeat itself.
When the group finally did manage to beat it into the woman's head, she was all aflutter about George and how 'perfectly adorable' his glasses were, and his face being 'that of a perfect gentleman.' In fact, she claimed that many things about him were 'perfect,' and stressed the trait a bit more than was necessary.
At long last, at around noon, Colonel Freeston and his wife were ready to head out. "Have a nice term, pet, and Mummie will see you soon!" Mrs. Freeston cooed, embracing her daughter lightly.
"You take care of her, soldier." Nancy's father commanded George, punching him firmly on the shoulder.
"Yessir. And thank you." George answered, patting his breast pocket with a knowing wink. The Colonel had entrusted him with the heirloom engagement ring, which George had accepted with wide eyes and a grateful heart. The two actually looked as if they'd get along very well in the years to come, trading quidditch stories back and forth like old pals. Harry thought it was actually quite funny how George seemed more afraid of the bitty Denise Freeston, with her tiny frame and sharp tongue, than forty year army veteran Butch Freeston.
Nancy couldn't be more pleased with her parents, though. She thought it was amazing that George was still in one piece and in the country. "Don't worry about my mum George dear, she'll warm up soon enough. I'm sure she had the whole bridge club captivated with stories of mine and Harry's son uttering his first words or something. Honestly, the woman still entertains the medieval idea of arranged marriages."
"That breakfast wasn't half as bad as I was anticipating. Piece of cake." George declared triumphantly.
"Piece of cake, eh Greg?" Harry taunted, recalling the frightened look on the redhead's face when the Colonel's bulky frame meandered through the door, and how he scuttled out the door as fast as he could when commanded to do so.
The rest of that nice December Saturday would have been spent lazing about the common room, playing wizard's chess and exploding snap in front of the cozy fire, if it hadn't been for that pesky Angelina Johnson and her obsessive desire to win the House Cup. Never mind the fact that their next match wasn't for four months, or that it was below freezing outside as the sleet poured down by the cloudfull. No, instead she ushered the Gryffindor quidditch team onto the pitch from two till six, when they mercifully were allowed a warming dinner.
"What the - was she thinking?" Ron griped. Fortunately for him, at the precise moment he swore, Katie Bell let out a screaming sneeze. She'd had an unstoppable run of those ever since practice let out.
Alicia, usually her friend's number one supporter, even joined in on the complaining. "Angelina's trying to kill us the legal way. KILL us. She needs to be shipped off to Azkaban for misuse of authority."
"The dementors can't come soon enough." Fred put in, attempting to eat a bite of vegetable soup with his blue, shaking hands.
"Who elected HER as captain, anyways?" Hermione mocked knowingly. Sure enough, all faces of the team lowered as they conceded that they themselves had been the ones who proposed Angelina as the captain. Except for Ron, however, who hadn't been on the team at that time. But he wasn't taking any risks on pissing off the captain. He was only on the team because of her good grace, and wanted to keep it that way, no matter how much he agreed with his teammates.
Harry, whether fatigue or boredom induced, had a severe case of the daydreams. He was gazing absentmindedly at the staff table thinking about nothing in particular when his eyes suddenly snapped into focus. He realized with a jolt that he was staring at Severus Snape's vacant seat. The Potions Master was still holed up in the infirmary, recuperating from his wound by the Daltheius Dagger. Harry wondered if he had regained consciousness yet, or if he ever would.
Scanning the remainder of the staff table, Harry also saw that Professor Callahan was still out. Surely a bad case of drunkenness didn't constitute a week's stay in the hospital wing? Substitute teacher Professor Snott was still running the show during Defense Against the Dark Arts, and so far nothing had been accomplished. Hermione was positively throwing a fit about the lost time that could have been spent studying for the O.W.L's or N.E.W.T's.
"You're more than welcome to teach the class yourself, 'Mione." Harry chided after she complained about this for the twelfth time, more to get her to shut up than anything else.
"I just might." she replied huffily, tilting her head up high.
The next day after breakfast, Harry made up his mind to visit the two missing teachers in the hospital wing. Though he wasn't particularly fond of Snape, the man was in there because he tried to save his life. It was the least Harry could do.
Upon arriving at the white double-doors, Madame Pomfrey caught him and demanded to know what he was doing there. "Visiting the Professors." Harry stated innocently.
"They're doing just fine, if you must know, and it will do no good for you to go barging in there upsetting them. It's not your place, now shoo." the old nurse replied sternly.
"Shoo." Harry mumbled to himself, mocking the old lady, as he walked back down the corridor. It wouldn't hurt to just have a look.Fortunately for Harry and his mischievousness, out of the corner of his eye he saw Madame Pomfrey exit the hospital wing, bustling down the hallway to some undisclosed destination. Just a tiny peek, and he'd be gone.
Running stealthily, Harry crept once more up to the double-doors and stole inside. The room was startlingly white, as it always is, and it took Harry a moment to get his eyes adjusted. There, nudged in the far corner of the room, were two cubicles sectioned off with white sheets. The first was Snape's, Harry recalled, so he approached that one first. Pulling the curtain back carefully, the sleeping form of Severus Snape was revealed inch by inch.
He didn't look so menacing when he was unconscious, actually. No longer intimidating, just tired. Harry saw the crow's feet bunched around his forehead and eyes, having been forever etched into the skin by his usual scowl of pain and unpleasantness. There was a large bandage wrapped around his middle where the dagger had pierced the skin and secreted its poisonous insulin.
There, in that mind somewhere, was the very information that would save Harry's life. Through those neurons and logical pathways coursed the facts about Voldemort's plan. If only the man could express them, could somehow articulate the extent of danger and risk involved. It was like the information was locked up into a safe, and the key lay within it, unattainable until something broke the surface. Aargh, it was infuriating!
Well, standing here and staring at the poor guy won't solve anything, Harry thought to himself. As silently as he had come, he snuck back out through the heavy white curtains, drawing them closed behind him.
He didn't notice the Potions Master crack an eye open and gaze at the boy's retreating form, smiling slightly.
Now it was time to see how much the drunken form of Victoria Callahan had sobered up. Harry couldn't completely stifle the feeling of anger and blame that he felt when he thought of the Defense Professor. After all, it was HER fault Snape was lying in the cot mere feet from her, barely out of reach of death, hiding the antidote for the poison Voldemort hoped to kill Harry with.
But then he remembered the life she must have gone through. The scorn and ridicule the young woman endured when she pointed the finger at Reginald and Courtney Crinkle, and they came up innocent. And now, in trying to protect Harry, she had nearly killed the man who was also trying to protect Harry. She probably wasn't too pleased with herself. It was no wonder that she'd turned to the kind of relief only a bottle of Ogden's old Firewhisky could offer.
Harry was deep in thought when he reached out to pull the curtain aside to Professor Callahan's cubicle. So deep in thought, Harry was, that he completely neglected to notice that the woman was awake and walking around. Not only was she walking around, however, but she was walking around IN THE NUDE.
"GOOD LORD!!!" she shrieked, quite within her rights, and pulled the neighboring curtain up around her. Unfortunately, this meant that her naked backside was exposed to the sleeping Severus next to her. Upon realizing this seconds later, Professor Callahan shrieked yet again and put the curtain back in its place, grabbing the sheets from her bed and wrapping those around her instead.
Harry could just stand there and gape, having just seen his first naked woman.
"MR. POTTER!!" A voice from behind Harry jerked him awake. He ripped his eyes from the woman to see Madame Pomfrey standing just inside the doorway, hands planted firmly on her hips, chin jiggling with rage.
Harry whipped his head back once more to the startled patient, who wrapped the bedsheet more closely around her. His first instinct being to run, that is exactly what he did. Ducking under the nurse's outstretched arms, Harry darted out the door and down the hall, and he didn't stop running until he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Password?" she inquired cheerily.
"Orion's Belt." Harry stated, the painting swinging open. He darted into the common room and twisted his head from side to side, searching for Ron and Hermione.
Finally he spotted them near the fire, Hermione losing marvelously to Ron in a game of wizards chess.
"Why so flustered, Harry?" Ron inquired, looking up to see his friend panting hard, nursing the stitch in his side.
"Come - here, you've - GASP - got to hear - what I just - WHEEZE - saw." Harry expressed, motioning the two over into a corner. Shrugging, they stood up and followed.
"What's up?" Hermione asked, crossing his arms in front of him in a 'this- better-be-good-you're-breaking-my-train-of-thought' sort of manner.
After gulping down a few more mouthfuls of air, Harry took his hands off his knees, stood up, and stared at his friends importantly for a few moments before continuing. "I just saw Victoria Callahan naked." he declared impressively.
"Oh good grief!" Hermione exclaimed with agitation, rolling her eyes and turning her back to Harry.
However, Ron was positively captivated. "What did it look like?" he breathed reverently.
Hermione muttered something that sounded like 'boys' under her breath and took a few retreating steps away. Not enough to be out of hearing shot, mind you, because she still wanted to hear Harry explain himself.
"I went to the hospital wing to check on her and Snape, you know, to see how they were doing." Harry began.
"With, I'm sure, only the most wholesome intentions at heart." Hermione spat in a mocking tone. Ron kicked her, and focused his attention back on Harry.
"Anyways. so I had just finished checking up on Snape -"
"How's he doing, by the way?" Hermione cut in once again. Ron gritted his teeth and turned slowly to her, giving her a look that asked if she could be MORE annoying.
"Sleeping and whatnot. ANYWAYS," Harry accented in a way to tell Hermione that she'd better not butt in again. "I was going to pop my head in Professor Callahan's cubicle, and I guess I caught her undressing or something. She leapt up to cover herself, but not before I caught sight of something you'd be interested in."
"What, what??" Ron asked quickly, clearly on the edge of his seat.
"T&A, Ron, nothing your brother's magazines haven't shown you, I'm sure." Hermione explained, earning a slap-in-the-face glare from Harry.
"NO, Hermione, that is NOT what I was going to say." Harry argued, looking insulted.
"What were you going to say?" prompted Ron, as if nothing could ever be better than the previously mentioned T&A.
"I was SAYING," Harry began, stretching it out for effect. Right before he thought Ron might snap from all the tension, and Hermione from all the irritancy, he continued. "I saw, on the underside of Victoria Callahan's wrist, a tattoo of the Dark Mark."
* * * * *
A/N: Ooooh, likey likey?? I'm back on the original track I set this train on to begin with. George and Nancy live happily ever after, etc, etc, but the show must go on. Hoping this one will break the big six-oh in reviews, baby. Eeee, can't wait for responses! Review, review, review!!
Love from,
Saranimal
HaloGal5@aol.com (I've got a website now, check my profile. Pweese??)
A/N: Okay, I promise you, the Nancy/George Saga will be resolved this chapter. So, Crawler, if you're still out there, chapter eighteen will get back to the original plotline. I feel kinda bad for abandoning it like that, for the sake of love. Ah, but what a sake. I WISH I HAD SOME!!!!!!!!!! (I'm not bitter.)
OK, what is UP with all the begging for me not to make this a Harry/Hermione fic? I happen to LIKE H/H fics personally, and you can't stop me even if I decide to make it one! *sticks out tongue* MEH!
Seriously folks, this is what I think J.K. Rowling's gonna do with book five. And, therefore, I shall not have really that much main character romance. Well. I'm gonna eat my foot later, but right now, NO! So just relax, alright? Ugh, you won't pull a Crawler on me and decide not to read my story anymore if I put them together, will you? PLEEAASE DON'T!! I don't think I can take any more rejection!
DISCLAIMER: The many voices in my head have aided in developing this plotline. and not ONE of them owns the idea of Harry Potter, either!
* * * * *
George was standing in the doorway of the Olive Branch Room, breathing heavily, staring at the rather stunned face of Butch Freeston. Harry was so stunned he could barely move.
"HARRY WILL NOT MARRY NANCY!! If anyone should, it's ME!!" George shouted.
Harry could tell the only reason the Colonel hadn't beaten George to a pulp yet was he was shocked. But he was fast recovering from his stupor, and getting redder and redder in the face.
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" he roared, his jaw looking as if it had come unhinged.
"George Henry Weasley, sir."
"And where the HELL do you get off interrupting me?" Mr. Freeston persisted.
"W-well, you see sir, I'm the one that's going with Nancy."
The Colonel's eyes popped out of his head like large, round gumballs with reddish veins etched all over the surface. "WHAT?!"
"It was a big misunderstanding between Harry, Nancy, and I, and everybody got the wrong impression. I've no idea how Witch Weekly got wind of the thing, but before you know it, everyone in the world's beating down poor Harry's door over something that never even happened." George rattled off in record time.
The man looked like he wasn't even breathing. Finally, after blinking rapidly a few hundred times, he turned to Harry and his eyes narrowed. "So you and Nancy were never."
"Nuh-uh." Harry replied, shaking his head.
"And this kid here's the."
"Yessir." George confirmed, though a bit shakily.
Mr. Freeston sighed deeply, then plopped himself down in a chair. "Explain yourself, boy." he ordered.
George seemed taken aback, but began stammering reasons nonetheless. "Nancy and I are both in Gryffindor House, and we really first met when she got hurt - we hit it off right away - both of us share a love for the entrepreneur business. I hid our relationship at first because I was afraid of what people would think, me being six years older than her and all."
"Some people might see that as a sign of cowardice." spat Nancy's father. The look of disgust on the man's face was enough to make Harry fall down, if he hadn't already been sitting. But George didn't bat an eye and seemed to get enraged.
"Look here, Mr. Freeston," George began, taking a step towards him. "I love your daughter, and I know she's in love with me. I may not be Harry Potter, but dangit I'm still a person! I've lived through the Acideratorr Curse, having to get prosthetic legs, and resigning my position as beater on the house quidditch team. And I'm going to live through this too, whether you like it or not."
The Colonel was dumbfounded. He was slouched down in his chair, running his hands over his chin stubble absentmindedly. "Beater, eh?" the man commented after awhile.
"Best one Hogwarts has seen in fifty years, besides my twin brother Fred. And probably my other brother, Ron. England's International Team wanted me for their beater, right out of school and everything."
This seemed to impress Mr. Freeston sufficiently, because he looked especially furious with himself. "I was a beater at Hogwarts myself, could've gone pro if I wasn't committed to the military. Tough position to play, beater. Takes grit, and strength." he conceded.
"Sir, I may not be wealthy, or famous, or anything special at all, but I promise to you that I will treat your daughter with the utmost respect and love until the day I die." George swore, walking over to his father-in-law and taking a seat next to him.
Mr. Freeston stared at the velvet box in his hand. "Promise, you say?"
(^*^)
It took a full half hour to explain the whole scenario to Nancy's mother. She kept shooting longing looks towards Harry and pointing at him, muttering incoherent words of confusion. "Shabadoo?" she questioned, pleading with her husband.
"No Denise, GEORGE is our little Nancy's boyfriend." the Colonel would correct, moving her finger so it pointed at the redhead.
She would then emit a loud, high-pitched squealing noise that probably shattered glass and the eardrums of small mammals, immediately followed by a long, contemplative silence. Then Mrs. Freeston would point at Harry yet again, and the whole exhausting process would repeat itself.
When the group finally did manage to beat it into the woman's head, she was all aflutter about George and how 'perfectly adorable' his glasses were, and his face being 'that of a perfect gentleman.' In fact, she claimed that many things about him were 'perfect,' and stressed the trait a bit more than was necessary.
At long last, at around noon, Colonel Freeston and his wife were ready to head out. "Have a nice term, pet, and Mummie will see you soon!" Mrs. Freeston cooed, embracing her daughter lightly.
"You take care of her, soldier." Nancy's father commanded George, punching him firmly on the shoulder.
"Yessir. And thank you." George answered, patting his breast pocket with a knowing wink. The Colonel had entrusted him with the heirloom engagement ring, which George had accepted with wide eyes and a grateful heart. The two actually looked as if they'd get along very well in the years to come, trading quidditch stories back and forth like old pals. Harry thought it was actually quite funny how George seemed more afraid of the bitty Denise Freeston, with her tiny frame and sharp tongue, than forty year army veteran Butch Freeston.
Nancy couldn't be more pleased with her parents, though. She thought it was amazing that George was still in one piece and in the country. "Don't worry about my mum George dear, she'll warm up soon enough. I'm sure she had the whole bridge club captivated with stories of mine and Harry's son uttering his first words or something. Honestly, the woman still entertains the medieval idea of arranged marriages."
"That breakfast wasn't half as bad as I was anticipating. Piece of cake." George declared triumphantly.
"Piece of cake, eh Greg?" Harry taunted, recalling the frightened look on the redhead's face when the Colonel's bulky frame meandered through the door, and how he scuttled out the door as fast as he could when commanded to do so.
The rest of that nice December Saturday would have been spent lazing about the common room, playing wizard's chess and exploding snap in front of the cozy fire, if it hadn't been for that pesky Angelina Johnson and her obsessive desire to win the House Cup. Never mind the fact that their next match wasn't for four months, or that it was below freezing outside as the sleet poured down by the cloudfull. No, instead she ushered the Gryffindor quidditch team onto the pitch from two till six, when they mercifully were allowed a warming dinner.
"What the - was she thinking?" Ron griped. Fortunately for him, at the precise moment he swore, Katie Bell let out a screaming sneeze. She'd had an unstoppable run of those ever since practice let out.
Alicia, usually her friend's number one supporter, even joined in on the complaining. "Angelina's trying to kill us the legal way. KILL us. She needs to be shipped off to Azkaban for misuse of authority."
"The dementors can't come soon enough." Fred put in, attempting to eat a bite of vegetable soup with his blue, shaking hands.
"Who elected HER as captain, anyways?" Hermione mocked knowingly. Sure enough, all faces of the team lowered as they conceded that they themselves had been the ones who proposed Angelina as the captain. Except for Ron, however, who hadn't been on the team at that time. But he wasn't taking any risks on pissing off the captain. He was only on the team because of her good grace, and wanted to keep it that way, no matter how much he agreed with his teammates.
Harry, whether fatigue or boredom induced, had a severe case of the daydreams. He was gazing absentmindedly at the staff table thinking about nothing in particular when his eyes suddenly snapped into focus. He realized with a jolt that he was staring at Severus Snape's vacant seat. The Potions Master was still holed up in the infirmary, recuperating from his wound by the Daltheius Dagger. Harry wondered if he had regained consciousness yet, or if he ever would.
Scanning the remainder of the staff table, Harry also saw that Professor Callahan was still out. Surely a bad case of drunkenness didn't constitute a week's stay in the hospital wing? Substitute teacher Professor Snott was still running the show during Defense Against the Dark Arts, and so far nothing had been accomplished. Hermione was positively throwing a fit about the lost time that could have been spent studying for the O.W.L's or N.E.W.T's.
"You're more than welcome to teach the class yourself, 'Mione." Harry chided after she complained about this for the twelfth time, more to get her to shut up than anything else.
"I just might." she replied huffily, tilting her head up high.
The next day after breakfast, Harry made up his mind to visit the two missing teachers in the hospital wing. Though he wasn't particularly fond of Snape, the man was in there because he tried to save his life. It was the least Harry could do.
Upon arriving at the white double-doors, Madame Pomfrey caught him and demanded to know what he was doing there. "Visiting the Professors." Harry stated innocently.
"They're doing just fine, if you must know, and it will do no good for you to go barging in there upsetting them. It's not your place, now shoo." the old nurse replied sternly.
"Shoo." Harry mumbled to himself, mocking the old lady, as he walked back down the corridor. It wouldn't hurt to just have a look.Fortunately for Harry and his mischievousness, out of the corner of his eye he saw Madame Pomfrey exit the hospital wing, bustling down the hallway to some undisclosed destination. Just a tiny peek, and he'd be gone.
Running stealthily, Harry crept once more up to the double-doors and stole inside. The room was startlingly white, as it always is, and it took Harry a moment to get his eyes adjusted. There, nudged in the far corner of the room, were two cubicles sectioned off with white sheets. The first was Snape's, Harry recalled, so he approached that one first. Pulling the curtain back carefully, the sleeping form of Severus Snape was revealed inch by inch.
He didn't look so menacing when he was unconscious, actually. No longer intimidating, just tired. Harry saw the crow's feet bunched around his forehead and eyes, having been forever etched into the skin by his usual scowl of pain and unpleasantness. There was a large bandage wrapped around his middle where the dagger had pierced the skin and secreted its poisonous insulin.
There, in that mind somewhere, was the very information that would save Harry's life. Through those neurons and logical pathways coursed the facts about Voldemort's plan. If only the man could express them, could somehow articulate the extent of danger and risk involved. It was like the information was locked up into a safe, and the key lay within it, unattainable until something broke the surface. Aargh, it was infuriating!
Well, standing here and staring at the poor guy won't solve anything, Harry thought to himself. As silently as he had come, he snuck back out through the heavy white curtains, drawing them closed behind him.
He didn't notice the Potions Master crack an eye open and gaze at the boy's retreating form, smiling slightly.
Now it was time to see how much the drunken form of Victoria Callahan had sobered up. Harry couldn't completely stifle the feeling of anger and blame that he felt when he thought of the Defense Professor. After all, it was HER fault Snape was lying in the cot mere feet from her, barely out of reach of death, hiding the antidote for the poison Voldemort hoped to kill Harry with.
But then he remembered the life she must have gone through. The scorn and ridicule the young woman endured when she pointed the finger at Reginald and Courtney Crinkle, and they came up innocent. And now, in trying to protect Harry, she had nearly killed the man who was also trying to protect Harry. She probably wasn't too pleased with herself. It was no wonder that she'd turned to the kind of relief only a bottle of Ogden's old Firewhisky could offer.
Harry was deep in thought when he reached out to pull the curtain aside to Professor Callahan's cubicle. So deep in thought, Harry was, that he completely neglected to notice that the woman was awake and walking around. Not only was she walking around, however, but she was walking around IN THE NUDE.
"GOOD LORD!!!" she shrieked, quite within her rights, and pulled the neighboring curtain up around her. Unfortunately, this meant that her naked backside was exposed to the sleeping Severus next to her. Upon realizing this seconds later, Professor Callahan shrieked yet again and put the curtain back in its place, grabbing the sheets from her bed and wrapping those around her instead.
Harry could just stand there and gape, having just seen his first naked woman.
"MR. POTTER!!" A voice from behind Harry jerked him awake. He ripped his eyes from the woman to see Madame Pomfrey standing just inside the doorway, hands planted firmly on her hips, chin jiggling with rage.
Harry whipped his head back once more to the startled patient, who wrapped the bedsheet more closely around her. His first instinct being to run, that is exactly what he did. Ducking under the nurse's outstretched arms, Harry darted out the door and down the hall, and he didn't stop running until he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Password?" she inquired cheerily.
"Orion's Belt." Harry stated, the painting swinging open. He darted into the common room and twisted his head from side to side, searching for Ron and Hermione.
Finally he spotted them near the fire, Hermione losing marvelously to Ron in a game of wizards chess.
"Why so flustered, Harry?" Ron inquired, looking up to see his friend panting hard, nursing the stitch in his side.
"Come - here, you've - GASP - got to hear - what I just - WHEEZE - saw." Harry expressed, motioning the two over into a corner. Shrugging, they stood up and followed.
"What's up?" Hermione asked, crossing his arms in front of him in a 'this- better-be-good-you're-breaking-my-train-of-thought' sort of manner.
After gulping down a few more mouthfuls of air, Harry took his hands off his knees, stood up, and stared at his friends importantly for a few moments before continuing. "I just saw Victoria Callahan naked." he declared impressively.
"Oh good grief!" Hermione exclaimed with agitation, rolling her eyes and turning her back to Harry.
However, Ron was positively captivated. "What did it look like?" he breathed reverently.
Hermione muttered something that sounded like 'boys' under her breath and took a few retreating steps away. Not enough to be out of hearing shot, mind you, because she still wanted to hear Harry explain himself.
"I went to the hospital wing to check on her and Snape, you know, to see how they were doing." Harry began.
"With, I'm sure, only the most wholesome intentions at heart." Hermione spat in a mocking tone. Ron kicked her, and focused his attention back on Harry.
"Anyways. so I had just finished checking up on Snape -"
"How's he doing, by the way?" Hermione cut in once again. Ron gritted his teeth and turned slowly to her, giving her a look that asked if she could be MORE annoying.
"Sleeping and whatnot. ANYWAYS," Harry accented in a way to tell Hermione that she'd better not butt in again. "I was going to pop my head in Professor Callahan's cubicle, and I guess I caught her undressing or something. She leapt up to cover herself, but not before I caught sight of something you'd be interested in."
"What, what??" Ron asked quickly, clearly on the edge of his seat.
"T&A, Ron, nothing your brother's magazines haven't shown you, I'm sure." Hermione explained, earning a slap-in-the-face glare from Harry.
"NO, Hermione, that is NOT what I was going to say." Harry argued, looking insulted.
"What were you going to say?" prompted Ron, as if nothing could ever be better than the previously mentioned T&A.
"I was SAYING," Harry began, stretching it out for effect. Right before he thought Ron might snap from all the tension, and Hermione from all the irritancy, he continued. "I saw, on the underside of Victoria Callahan's wrist, a tattoo of the Dark Mark."
* * * * *
A/N: Ooooh, likey likey?? I'm back on the original track I set this train on to begin with. George and Nancy live happily ever after, etc, etc, but the show must go on. Hoping this one will break the big six-oh in reviews, baby. Eeee, can't wait for responses! Review, review, review!!
Love from,
Saranimal
HaloGal5@aol.com (I've got a website now, check my profile. Pweese??)