Loss
By BlackPotterGrl
Chapter XXI – Don't Drink and FlyHe had lost all feeling in his body. It hurt terribly to retch, but he couldn't control it. He was crouched over the toilet, tears streaming from his face from the force of his sickness. He flushed the toilet, laboriously getting to his feet.
He couldn't stay there. He knew he couldn't. Sirius would go looking for him, and he wanted nothing to do with Sirius at this moment. If he ever saw him again, there was a definite possibility that the consequences would be less then satisfactory on Sirius's behalf.
So he ran.
He didn't know where he was going, and he really found no reason to care. He was out of the building before he realized where he was.
He ran towards Hagrid's hut because that seemed to be the only thing that was being filtered through his blurry eyes. If anyone had been near him, they would have been on the ground in a moment. He didn't take the time to breathe when he arrived there.
He circled the place, looking for something to break. His vision met a tree stump and he assaulted it until he could feel the blood saturating his sock. He whirled around to look through the fence where Hagrid kept his animals. It was currently empty, but he was headed toward the shed. The lock flew open upon him reaching it and Buckbeak gave him a strange look. He found what he wanted, hidden in the back.
Upon first glance, Harry had the overwhelming urge to trash it. However, the need just to get as far away from Hogwarts as possible besieged him. It was getting later, and Harry would have to be quiet while taking it, knowing how much noise it made.
He walked the bike to the front gates before taking off like a bullet, putting on his helmet, and letting the road lead him to the place he wanted to go. The turns were a bit harder to handle since he had never rode a bike on the ground before, but he managed.
Deciding against Hogsmeade, he rode into a small muggle town and stopped in front of a small pub. Any place was fine as long as it was far away from where he had been.
His hair slightly wet from the entire ordeal, he pulled off the helmet, - and his Hogwarts robe on second though – and walked inside of the pub. He could have rode on for hours, but the harsh November wind was cutting through his clothes like butter. He had had no way of getting a cloak in his haste.
The first thing he noticed walking in was that it probably wasn't the most respectable place in this little muggle town. The lighting was a bit dim and some of the people there looked a bit shady.
He sat down at a table brooding. He knew he would have to go back. Sirius was probably worried sick about him by that point.
"Fuck Sirius!" He muttered. "And fuck Murphy!"
"What can I do for you kid?" A waitress asked him.
"Oh." He looked up surprised. "I guess you don't accept galleons." He said under his breath.
"Oh, sure we do!" She smiled, flashing her yellowing teeth. She continued at his widened eyes. "Don't you know anything kid? There's at least one pub in just about every muggle town that takes both. You just have to know where it is." She winked.
He raised his eyebrows. "Oh really? That's very interesting. In that case…" He questioned how smart this would be. "I'll have a beer."
"Coming right up kid."
He had a little money on him. What was the point of letting it sit in his pocket?
She came back with a beer. He stared at the amber liquid with some unease. He's never drunk before. Actually, he'd never tasted anything heavier then a butterbeer except for what Fred and George had slipped into his cup.
"Beats a razor." He thought lifting the mug.
It tasted like horribly bitter, and it burnt his throat. But the next sip wasn't quite so violent to his taste buds.
He drank it down and the room seemed to tilt. He shook his head and it came back in focus.
The waitress was back again. "What'll it be this time kid?"
"Got anything a bit… stronger."
"Depends on if your driving or not."
He thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"Okay then. We have vodka, gin, whiskey… what will it be kid?" She smiled again.
"What'll get me drunk the fastest?" His brain seemed a bit foggy.
"Oh! I know what you want. I've got just the stuff. Considering your wallet can handle it." She winked.
"Sure!" He waved her away. He sat impatiently for her to get back. She didn't have a glass when she returned but a large bottle of something that smelled putrid.
"I hope you know what you're doing kid." She said walking away.
He lifted the bottle and took a big swig of it, and almost gagged. It took him almost a minute to swallow it, and when he did, it hit his stomach like a brick.
He didn't let this stop him however. The more he drank, the less the thoughts of Sirius's engagement plagued him. The less Murphy's sickening smile haunted him. The less the nauseating ideas of what his summers would be like bothered him.
His finger swirled around the rim of the bottle. He drank another sip and noticed the burning sensation wasn't quite as sharp.
He choked on his laughter as a shrill hiccup erupted from his stomach. Colors seemed to blur, and his perception was hindered.
He was aware that someone else had sat down at his table. He concentrated hard on the person's face.
"What happened to you kid?" The man – probably a regular to the bar – was smoking a cigarette.
"My gofather's getting married." Was he slurring already?
"Why isn't he here with you then?" The man seemed to be smiling.
"He's probably back shagging her… I don care though. He can have the evil-" He suddenly couldn't remember what he was going to say. He shrugged to himself and took another chug of alcohol.
"Ah- I've had those problems. My mother got remarried."
"I'z hatez her." He put his head down on the table.
"You should go home kid. This ain't no place for you." If he was trying to sound nice, that wasn't how Harry took it.
"I'll go home when I'm hell ash drunk." He swung the bottle around and managed to get his shirt covered in alcohol. "And shef is in hell." He wasn't even aware of what he was saying. "I'll tell you one fing! I'm not doing her homework."
The man's eyebrows rose. "How much of that stuff had you had to drink?"
"Boutsh thish much." He moved his fingers to show most of bottle.
"You don't drink much do you?"
"Not till now." The room was getting blurry.
"You can't drink this stuff if you've never drank before!" The man exclaimed.
"I'ma do watz I want." He stood up shakily, and noticed the room spinning.
He swigged down another couple of mouthfuls before he headed towards another table. It seemed like no time at all before the bottle was empty and he was tipsier then ever.
He ordered another big bottle of sickly smelling alcohol in spite of the waitress's reluctant look.
The next bottle went faster then the previous did. He hadn't even realized it when the entire thing was empty. By then, he was completely hammered. His brain was swimming in alcohol, but he was too stupid to notice it.
Once or twice, the waitress would come over to voice her concern for him. The man he saw earlier returned, each time, less and less recognizable.
"Kid, why don't you go home? I can give you a ride."
To him, it sounded as if his voice was coming through water. He had trouble focusing on his face, and once it took him a couple moments to regain control of his stomach.
The only word that seemed to come through, though, was home. Home was the last place he wanted to go. He moaned loudly. "Iz gon see her ta shummer!" He realized. This thought brought about a couple of gulps of alcohol until he couldn't remember what was wrong.
He obviously must have realized that he was too drunk to figure out what he was trying to convey, so his next action was to grab his arm.
His initial response was to wrench it out of his hand. "Na. I wonz go!"
How drunk was he supposed to get before he stopped thinking about the shit going on that seemed to be gathering. He was so drunk. He took a gulp. How would he get home? He took two more gulps. Was Sirius going to be mad? He took another four gulps. Was he even looking for him? He took another three. He was marrying Murphy! He finished the bottle.
He had such a huge headache! Wasn't whatever crap the waitress had given him supposed to make that go away?
A bizarre thought struck him. What if this all was a plot? What if the waitress was a Death Eater? He had thought it suspicious that the bar accepted galleons. He didn't even know what the waitress had given him! He hadn't asked. Maybe it was poison! Maybe they were getting him drunk just so that they could capture him and he couldn't escape.
What if the man was Voldemort! He had offered to take him home. What if he was going to put him in a cell like the one where Ron had been kept. His blood was probably still on the floor.
But wouldn't they have killed him as soon as he came in? Maybe they wanted to torture him for information!
He drained the bottle and the thought was almost instantly replaced by the wonderment of how they managed to get the ship into the bottle like the one sitting over the fireplace. He wondered why werewolves were considered dark creatures, and not vampires. He started to question whether the room was actually spinning, or if it was just him.
Maybe if he stepped outside, everything would still be spinning. Maybe he was experiencing the spin on the earth.
Wasn't alcohol supposed to make him feel happy? He was supposed to be loud, and singing, and stupid. He was just sitting there, swaying in his seat.
The waitress came by again. This time with his bill. He took time to keep the slurring out of his voice. "I'll have one more srink. Fors Ron."
"That's it kid. You've had enough. I'm cutting you off."
"Just ones more?" He pleaded. His thumb and forefinger wavering to measure various different sizes.
"No. You're drunk enough. Now go home." She told him. Her kind and happy demeanor was gone. "It's past midnight. We're closing."
"Closing?"
"It's Sunday."
"Oh." He shook his head, ignoring the pain it brought.
"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"
"'s"
"You should be in school, shouldn't you?"
"I don care."
"I'm sending an owl to the school. They'll have a teacher pick you up."
"NO!" He shouted.
He struggled to stagger out of the bar as if he were fighting a hurricane.
He saw her shrug her shoulders out of the corner of his eye. "You forgot to pay!" She called out the door as he left. He ignored her, concentrating on getting out.
He then promptly threw up in a bunch of hedges.
He noticed the bike parked on the side of the pub. Where was he supposed to go? He was drunk. He had no idea how he had gotten there, and he wasn't even sure of what this town was called. Maybe he should have let the waitress call Hogwarts. But what if Sirius came?
He wasn't even thinking about it as he clambered onto the bike, and, after a few failed attempts with his wand to start it up, the engine turned over.
He backed up clumsily, almost launching off of the bike as he backed off of the curb.
He heard the metallic sscccrraaatcchhhing sound, and winced with horror. Sirius was going to kill him. Hell, he was going to kill him anyway.
As he drove shakily, the noticed the Hogwarts robe still wrapped around the handlebars, and stopped to put it on before continuing. The night air was cold and he found it sobering; something he desperately didn't want.
The street lights became blurs of yellow light, and he couldn't distinguish the different signs on the road, or the traffic lights, or the cars. His vision matched that of which he would have without his glasses on. He could scarcely tell the difference between pavement and sky. He stopped when he noticed a red light, and figured he was in an intersection. He noticed no other cars around him, so he stayed where he was until he could determine his surroundings.
He almost broke into tears right where he was. He didn't know where the hell he was. He didn't know where he was going. Maybe he should just check into a motel for the night. But they wouldn't accept galleons and that was all he had.
He wouldn't be able to find the pub again. He didn't know what it was called, he had been so preoccupied that he didn't notice. He was so drunk! Where the hell should he go?
He heard a loud honk echoing behind him as he came out of his stupor. Should he pull over? Should he keep going? The horn just kept on going and he didn't have time to think about it rationally. He launched forward, even though he recognized that the light had turned red again.
He tried to recognize anything, but he couldn't. Maybe he should fly. That way he wouldn't hit anything. He was in too much shit to see which way was up. Didn't this thing have an autopilot? He couldn't make out any of the abbreviations. He realized that one of them had to take him to Remus's house, but he couldn't go there. There were muggles around. He couldn't risk them seeing him.
Maybe he should ask for directions? But no one would no where Hogwarts was, would they?
The way things were looking, he would be driving around in circles, getting himself more lost then ever if things went on like this. He was so tired. He just wanted to fall asleep. He could call the knight bus, but what would he do with the bike?
He pulled to the side of the road as he helmet started to get steamy from the hot tears going down his face.
He dried his eyes, and wiped off the plastic, and put it back on. He had to stop acting like an idiot, and do something. He rode off once again, not even caring where he was going now.
It struck him about a half-an-hour after he had left the pub that he had broken the law. What was he up to now? He was drinking underage, he was driving underage without a license while drunk. He had run a red light. He had stolen a motorcycle, scratched it up, and had run probably more then one red light. He also hadn't paid his bill. That could get him time in prison! He could be sent to Azkaban!
The revelation hit him like a ton of bricks, sending his spiraling into to sobriety. He had pretty much lost the cloudy feeling in his head. Thoughts had come clearer. His vision had been pretty messed up, but up until then, he had been drunk. At the point of those thoughts assaulting him, he stopped in the middle of the road, and fear flooded through him like a river.
In the memories of that night, he was pretty sure that was the moment that he recalled becoming sober. Of course, he didn't remember much after that.
It could have been being flown from the seat of the bike, over the handlebars, and into the side of a building, which he recoiled off of and fell unconscious on the sidewalk as the car behind him
The last sight he saw was of Sirius's motorcycle making its last fly… right into a traffic pole.
"Oh my God!"
"Is he bleeding?"
"He doesn't seem to be injured."
"He flew in to the side of a building!"
"He just stopped right in the middle of the road! I couldn't stop in time!"
"He's so young. Does he even have his license?"
"I can't pay for that bike!"
"What was he thinking?"
"Shouldn't someone call his parents?"
"The police will be here soon."
"Stupid kids. He was probably drunk."
"How do you think he survived?"
"What does it matter? When his parents get through with him, he'll be as good as dead."
"If he were my son…"
His eyes fluttered open to see a world of bright lights, and blurred colors, worse even then the peak of his intoxication. He closed them tightly. What had he done? Whoever had been talking had been right. He was dead. Walking dead.
He could hear the sirens. He heard the ambulance pull up, but he decided to sit up just to prove he was okay. Everything was still blurry. He suddenly realized that the reason was that his glasses were at the bottom of his helmet. He pulled the helmet off from his head and put them right.
He didn't think he had ever had a worse headache before in his life. The pain inflicted by his scar wasn't even this intense.
He felt something being forced inside of his mouth. The noises reverberated in his ears. He couldn't even think. Whatever had been in his mouth was jerked out.
"How old are you?"
"fiten." He muttered incoherently.
The words he had heard so often on TV echoed in his ears. It wasn't like he wasn't expecting them. Of course he was going to jail. Where else would he go? He would be prosecuted, convicted, and sent to Azkaban forever. He would never see Sirius, or Hermione or Remus, or any of the Weasleys ever again. He didn't even find it unfair. He was an idiot. He deserved whatever punishment that he received.
He felt the cold metal assault his wrists, and with surprising compliance, he got into the car.
If he hadn't had his wrists bound, he would have placed his head in his hands. He didn't have that option. He managed to put his head as close to his knees as it would go.
"What's your address?"
"I go to a boarding school."
"You mean Hedgeworth?"
"Yeah." He said, not even thinking about the question.
"That's a nice school. I wouldn't expect a school like that to accept a delinquent like you. I would expect you to be expelled for something like that."
"Probably." He hadn't even thought of that! Well of course! He was going to prison. He would obviously be expelled. He would never finish his education. What about Voldemort? Who would defeat him if he was in Azkaban?
Dumbledore would be disappointed. He hoped he wouldn't have to face Sirius after this. Maybe he would be thrown in prison before he even saw his Godfather.
"What are the charges against me right now?"
"Charges? We'll, you'll get a DUI, and the fact that you are under the drinking and driving age will make things a lot worse. You should just be thankful you're alive. You realize how lucky you are? You pretty much defied the laws of physics according to people around you."
"Imagine that." He said sarcastically. He was lucky that he was smart enough to put on a helmet though. He definitely would have died if he hadn't been wearing it.
"Was anyone else hurt?"
"No. Lucky for you. What made you stop, anyway?"
"I don't know. I guess it was the realization that I was breaking the law."
The cop muttered something that sounded pretty offensive.
"Kid, I almost pity you. What will your parents say?"
"I don't care. He can go to hell." He said.
"Why do you say that?"
"He's getting married."
"What's your point?"
"She's a bitch. I hate her. He didn't even tell me he was dating her until he got engaged!"
"Ouch. That's harsh. Is that why you got drunk?"
"Yeah, I guess. It was his bike."
He heard the officer laugh scoffingly. "You're dead, kid."
"I know."
He didn't notice the silence, he was too caught up in his own thoughts.
They arrived at the station, and with a lurch of impending doom, everything came into perspective. He was going to jail in handcuffs! The cell he would be in grew closer and the metal clank of the bars echoed in his ears.
The fact that they had no means of calling the school became apparent to him and the dread in his stomach expanded like marshmallows in a microwave.
He sat down in the corner, hiding behind the bench. He curled himself up as tight as he could and promptly fell asleep.
End Chapter XXI – Don't Drink and FlyNotes: So… That did take too long, did it? And the good news… I've finished the next chapter as well. It shouldn't take long at all for me to post the next one.
And something that my beta, SP-in-Sirius-Denial (Who you can thank for this chapter not being a mess) mentioned, is what Harry said in the begging of the chapter, "Beats a razor." If you didn't get that, what he meant was that getting drunk would beat cutting himself.
So, thank you everyone who reviewed, and especially my beta.
Responses:
paradox01: Thanks a lot. Could it be her sickening smile? Maybe that's it.
Katiani Petitedra: Sorry about that. Not a big fan of volleyball, myself. Not to brag, but I made one hell of a goalie in floor hockey. Undefeated, actually. Couldn't get a thing by me. Of course, that was four years ago, though. Oh well.
MalletWeilderofDoom: *laughs* Well, where would the plot be if there was no evil force out to destroy the sacred bound of Sirius and Harry? No, can't call it paradise, but as close as you can get to it. From experience, springing it is just as bad as having to deal with them for years prior to their marriage. Sorry. Got a little carried away there. In my own little world.
Aalikane: Thanks. That would be funny. I can just picture it in my mind.
FroBoy: Wait, did it suck, or did you like it? Or did you like the chapter, but not like what happened in it? Thanks anyway.
SP-in-Sirius-Denial: Did I say that? What I meant was that I wouldn't write a story revolving around Sirius's relationship. This is just the effect of the relationship on everyone around it. More nagging huh? My head is spinning with all of the stories I'm currently working on, so don't push me too hard, or I'll lose it.
Sailoranime: Oh my God! What a review. My eyes lit up when I saw it. So lets start from the beginning. Thank you for signing in. You write your stories with a pencil? I wouldn't dare. What if someone found my notebook? Yikes. GO! Read them. No, I'm just kidding. Just don't start screaming at me because I haven't written anything in months until you have. I don't find it odd at all. I'm not big on real life fluff myself, actually. I use fanfiction as an outlet for all that hugging and junk.
If we weren't such good friends, there probably would have been that silence. I guess I can see where you are coming from with your reaction to that situation, actually. Now, I'm actually laughing at the idea of someone doing that.
The quidditch thing was supposed to appeal to you. You and you alone, actually. I knew no one else would get it. I'm just kidding. And of course you wouldn't accuse me of being lazy. Someone with such a bad tract record of unbelievably short chapters, calling me lazy? Yes, it was to heighten the impact.
Yeah, I know, lots of cursing; there won't be too much more to come, I don't think, but I can't guarantee that. I'm pretty sure you don't mind though.
You wish she was Voldemort, don't you? And you're still calling her 'the Brunette' I see. Well that sucks. It was suppose to be the moment of truth. You could here your heart beating. Bu-bump bu-bump bu-bump. Then suddenly, "I have to go potty." And thank you. I'm glad you thought so. Yes, I do go over my fics a couple of times. Why, did you notice mistakes? This chapter was beta'd. So thanks again for your LONG review. (and that's a good thing)
Shawn Pickett: Urm, thanks. You had a very interesting response to Harry's reaction towards Murphy. To tell the truth, I don't find Harry's behavior odd at all. It's pretty common for kids to hate their potential stepparent. Especially for Harry, who isn't even really Sirius's son. The fact that she's not really nice doesn't help things. No, I think you misunderstood. Harry actually jinxed Murphy's alarm clock, not Hermione's. Thanks for reading anyway. There will be a better explanation for his actions next chapter.
Horsecrzy: Thanks a lot.
Star-prancer: Thanks. I'm glad you like it so much. Yes, unfortunately, he is. Sorry to say it. Oh, you like 'The Price of Love' as well? That's great. I'm working on that at this time now.
Alastormadeymoody51: Sorry. *cringes* I'm going to explain later.
Kiki: Sorry. I hate her too. Thanks for reviewing though.
Savoy Truffle: Thanks. I will really soon.
Eternally*Mine: Hi. Nothing is shaking, sorry to say. Well, to tell the truth, I did it for plot. Well, I don't know what you mean by Ron. He's missing. He'll come back – or he won't. Yes, it was suppose to find of funny, actually. Thanks a lot.
Notes: So thanks everyone, for reviewing, though some of you didn't have the best of reactions towards the situation. All I can say is keep reading. It will get better… or it'll get worse. You'll just have to find out yourself.