Chapter Six:
"Got a cigarette?"
Harry turned around in confusion, "Me?"
"No, the guy next to you. Of course I'm talking to you." A boy with red-streaked, black,
chin-length hair leaned against the brick wall of a small shoe shop. He looked like he was just
about Harry's age. He wore a black leather jacket, despite the warm weather. His lip was
pierced, as well as his eye brow. The skull earring he wore reminded Harry of Bill Weasley. But
this stranger's eyes were cold and distant, an expression never found on Bill.
"I...er..uh...no."
"What's wrong, kid? Lost? I've never seen you around here before."
"No, new. I'm new."
This guy looked intimidating.
"Just moved in?" the stranger asked.
"Er, something like that."
"Right. Well, you got a cigg or not?"
"No."
"Oh, ok," There was a pause. "Say, how old are you anyway?"
"Sixteen. Well, almost. Anyway, I have to go. See you around, I guess."
"Right."
Harry had only taken five steps when the boy spoke again.
"You live in that worn-down looking house two streets down?"
"Uh, why do you ask?"
"Friend of mine used to live there."
"Oh, sure. Well, bye."
"Right, see you around."
* * * * * * * * * *
The sun had set a long time ago. Harry stuck his arms inside his tee shirt to escape some
of the wind's bite. It felt cold for a summer night. His watched beeped twice to signal it was time
for midnight. After twenty-some minutes trying to get comfortable on the hard park bench, Harry
fell asleep.
* * * * * * * * * *
The wind threatened to throw him off the summit of the tower. He stood shivering in a
pair of jeans and green tee shirt, the wind blew his hair back, exposing his scar. Remus sat on the
stone surface, his back to Harry. It was apparent he was sobbing into his hands.
"Come back! For the love of Merlin, come back!"
"Remus? Are you ok, Remus?"
"Am I ok?! You left us. It's all your fault!."
"What? I- I'm right here. I didn't leave."
The wind grew stronger as Remus stood up. He turned around and glared at Harry with
red, blood-shot eyes.
"You're gone."
And with saying that, Remus let the wind whisk him away off the tower.
"Remus? REMUS!" Harry ran to the edge and kneeled down. Remus's limp body was still
falling to the ground. "I'm sorry, Remus. Don't leave, please. Come back. I'm right here.
Remus, help! No, don't go!."
A sudden jolt shook him awake.
"You ran away, didn't you?" The stranger from the day before stared down at him.
Harry wiped away his tears, embarrassed to find himself screaming in a park in Muggle
London in the middle of the night.
Harry nodded.
"Come with me. There's loads of creeps that come through here at this time."
"Are you suggesting you're one of them?"
"I don't fucking know what I am anymore, ok? But if you want food and a place to stay
come with me. If you want to be raped or something you can stay here. Not my problem."
Making sure his wand was safely in his pocket, Harry stood up and followed the stranger.
* * * * * * * * * *
"So, let me get this straight. You fell in love with a twenty-year-old prostitute when you
were fifteen, dropped out of school with the intent of chasing after her to France, some guy saw
you with her, beat you up, and now you're back here."
"Sounds just about right, yea."
"Where were you're bloody parents?"
"Mum died when I was seven, Dad was a drunkard. You know, the usual sad story."
"Oh..."
"And I saw you on that bench, pathetic-looking thing really. Whimpering about some
Remus-guy."
"Don't you fucking dare say anything-"
"Did I? No. I was just thinking you reminded me sort of like myself. I felt obliged to do
something."
And so he had. Ian Penn, age eighteen, took Harry to what looked like an abandoned
house. But once they had stepped inside it was clear that the house was inhabited.
"So, you live here?"
"Technically, no. No one knows this place belongs to anyone. It's not very welcoming, so
I have no trouble keeping people away. Here," Ian threw a blanket at Harry, who was sitting on a
musty, brown couch, "You can sleep here. No fucking sneaking around, got it? I don't know
why the hell I'm doing this anyway. Must be mad."
"And I must be worse for actually coming here but I don't suppose I have anywhere better
to go."
"Sure you do."
Harry threw him a questioning look.
"Wherever you came from. You belong there, not on the streets of London."
Harry cursed at him and pulled the scratchy-wool blanket over his still-shaking body. Ian
walked out of the room. Judging by the sound of his footsteps, Harry guessed he had gone to a
room upstairs.
A/N:
Yea, so there's my new creation: Ian. At first I thought he wan an asshole. But now that I've written up to Chapter Eleven I've realized he isn't. I took Hunta's suggestion and converted Chapter One to a prologue. That explains why there are two Chapter Six's. I'll have to change that sometime but at the moment I'm too lazy to.
I'm sorry to those who don't like angsty fics. This is turning into one. It happened unintentionally but I'm not changing it out of the angst genre. It is what it is. Well, I'm almost positive I'll have another chapter up before the end of Easter break.
"Got a cigarette?"
Harry turned around in confusion, "Me?"
"No, the guy next to you. Of course I'm talking to you." A boy with red-streaked, black,
chin-length hair leaned against the brick wall of a small shoe shop. He looked like he was just
about Harry's age. He wore a black leather jacket, despite the warm weather. His lip was
pierced, as well as his eye brow. The skull earring he wore reminded Harry of Bill Weasley. But
this stranger's eyes were cold and distant, an expression never found on Bill.
"I...er..uh...no."
"What's wrong, kid? Lost? I've never seen you around here before."
"No, new. I'm new."
This guy looked intimidating.
"Just moved in?" the stranger asked.
"Er, something like that."
"Right. Well, you got a cigg or not?"
"No."
"Oh, ok," There was a pause. "Say, how old are you anyway?"
"Sixteen. Well, almost. Anyway, I have to go. See you around, I guess."
"Right."
Harry had only taken five steps when the boy spoke again.
"You live in that worn-down looking house two streets down?"
"Uh, why do you ask?"
"Friend of mine used to live there."
"Oh, sure. Well, bye."
"Right, see you around."
* * * * * * * * * *
The sun had set a long time ago. Harry stuck his arms inside his tee shirt to escape some
of the wind's bite. It felt cold for a summer night. His watched beeped twice to signal it was time
for midnight. After twenty-some minutes trying to get comfortable on the hard park bench, Harry
fell asleep.
* * * * * * * * * *
The wind threatened to throw him off the summit of the tower. He stood shivering in a
pair of jeans and green tee shirt, the wind blew his hair back, exposing his scar. Remus sat on the
stone surface, his back to Harry. It was apparent he was sobbing into his hands.
"Come back! For the love of Merlin, come back!"
"Remus? Are you ok, Remus?"
"Am I ok?! You left us. It's all your fault!."
"What? I- I'm right here. I didn't leave."
The wind grew stronger as Remus stood up. He turned around and glared at Harry with
red, blood-shot eyes.
"You're gone."
And with saying that, Remus let the wind whisk him away off the tower.
"Remus? REMUS!" Harry ran to the edge and kneeled down. Remus's limp body was still
falling to the ground. "I'm sorry, Remus. Don't leave, please. Come back. I'm right here.
Remus, help! No, don't go!."
A sudden jolt shook him awake.
"You ran away, didn't you?" The stranger from the day before stared down at him.
Harry wiped away his tears, embarrassed to find himself screaming in a park in Muggle
London in the middle of the night.
Harry nodded.
"Come with me. There's loads of creeps that come through here at this time."
"Are you suggesting you're one of them?"
"I don't fucking know what I am anymore, ok? But if you want food and a place to stay
come with me. If you want to be raped or something you can stay here. Not my problem."
Making sure his wand was safely in his pocket, Harry stood up and followed the stranger.
* * * * * * * * * *
"So, let me get this straight. You fell in love with a twenty-year-old prostitute when you
were fifteen, dropped out of school with the intent of chasing after her to France, some guy saw
you with her, beat you up, and now you're back here."
"Sounds just about right, yea."
"Where were you're bloody parents?"
"Mum died when I was seven, Dad was a drunkard. You know, the usual sad story."
"Oh..."
"And I saw you on that bench, pathetic-looking thing really. Whimpering about some
Remus-guy."
"Don't you fucking dare say anything-"
"Did I? No. I was just thinking you reminded me sort of like myself. I felt obliged to do
something."
And so he had. Ian Penn, age eighteen, took Harry to what looked like an abandoned
house. But once they had stepped inside it was clear that the house was inhabited.
"So, you live here?"
"Technically, no. No one knows this place belongs to anyone. It's not very welcoming, so
I have no trouble keeping people away. Here," Ian threw a blanket at Harry, who was sitting on a
musty, brown couch, "You can sleep here. No fucking sneaking around, got it? I don't know
why the hell I'm doing this anyway. Must be mad."
"And I must be worse for actually coming here but I don't suppose I have anywhere better
to go."
"Sure you do."
Harry threw him a questioning look.
"Wherever you came from. You belong there, not on the streets of London."
Harry cursed at him and pulled the scratchy-wool blanket over his still-shaking body. Ian
walked out of the room. Judging by the sound of his footsteps, Harry guessed he had gone to a
room upstairs.
A/N:
Yea, so there's my new creation: Ian. At first I thought he wan an asshole. But now that I've written up to Chapter Eleven I've realized he isn't. I took Hunta's suggestion and converted Chapter One to a prologue. That explains why there are two Chapter Six's. I'll have to change that sometime but at the moment I'm too lazy to.
I'm sorry to those who don't like angsty fics. This is turning into one. It happened unintentionally but I'm not changing it out of the angst genre. It is what it is. Well, I'm almost positive I'll have another chapter up before the end of Easter break.