Part 2 folks--57 read, 1 review. Come on, get those fingers typing a few words.
As usual, nothing belongs to me!
"Absolutely not, Harry!" screamed George. His beefy face was turning red from either anger or pure frustration. No one in the room knew. But everyone knew never to be in the warpath of George Peuric. It means instant death. Even the most zombie-like of them all, Harry Potter, cringed in fear. "You are not taking this assignment. No questions. No, don't defy me— " raising his hand to stop a probable 'but' from the young agent, though the said agent is having a hard time breathing. "I'm putting you on company leave," George continued. "Get your arse out of here and don't report back in two weeks. God damn it, Harry, you're a fucking walking ghost out there. I can't have you literally dying on the job. It isn't worth it. Tickets are ready for you outside. Get a goddamn vacation. Trust me, it'll do you good."
With a small wave, the other two men in the room quickly guided the again-shell shocked captain out of the room. Outside, he was handed a plane ticket and was soldiered out of Deniables.
With the rain pouring again outside, Harry went through the motions: walked to the apparition point, apparated to the front of his flat, inserted his key, and went in. Not bothering to strip out of his wet clothes, He took up a glass of scotch and gunned a few glasses in him. Feeling very much-alive from the recent swim in London and the fire burning liquid, he returned to normality. Or as normal as he can get. Tahiti? Why the hell is George sending me to Tahiti. No phones, no magic folks, no work! Damn those enforced vacations anyway. The assignments are the only thing keeping my dreams away. Keeping me alive for the past three years.
As part of the mergence with the non-magical world, the Council of Magic has decided to set up Deniables. An ultra-secret, or Black, community that is tasked to detect and take down evil sects like the death eaters. Included in their mission was the pledge to protect the community at large, and worked very much like the K section in Muggle-England's Military Intelligence (think special forces with CIA). The worker drones are deniables. Their work always classified as Black Secret (the highest classification in the Wizarding World), and they work for something that is, naturally, denied by the government. In a word, Deniables replaced the Dept. of Mysteries. Harry Potter was a special case. Having plucked from a huge net of potential agents by men and women who are given none of the potential agent's name, nor of their history, but only of their skills and the scores from a battery of tests ranging from OWLS, NEWTS, Muggle Law Enforcement and Military examinations. In fact, it was a surprise for George Peuric when Harry Potter's name was on a list. This was three years ago. Peuric personally talked to the international hero in a bar filled with unwanted people. He found Harry drinking like a mad man. Just saying his name and whom he worked for, Harry just asked, "When do I start?" From that moment, Harry Potter's employment and life became a secret.
The first forced vacation was a killer for Harry. With nothing to do in Canada, Harry merely went through the motions of life, bringing Hedwig and Crookshanks (a parting gift from the Her, along with a necklace) along. Never leaving the rented hotel room for some fun. Always dreaming, and writing letters that will never be read nor send to the addressed name. Coming back to Deniables and placing a more cheerful face than what he left, though the Chief could see the through the façade and into the hollowed eyes, Peuric could only hand Harry another assignment to begin Deniables' work day.
The plane ride was smooth, silent, and uneventful. Watching the two movies and listening to the 11 different radio stations while in the air, Harry caught up with the real world, if just for a short time. One of Deniables travel agent/operater met Harry in Tahiti and drove him to a hotel with a clear sky, (clearly a blessing from the pouring English weather) crystal clear blue water, and white beaches. A luxury for anyone but Harry. No, for Harry instantly spot a tuft of red hair along the beaches. A child no more than four years of age. A tug in his heart and Harry had to turn away. Locking himself up in the room.
Never one for spinning up an extravagant fee for anything (even company paid), Harry slowly sauntered down into the hotel's restaurant. Asking for a table with a view, he was quickly seated. Ordering the house wine, he returned to his private thoughts and the famous thousand-meter-stare many veterans of the war developed.
"Oh. My. God! Harry, is that you?" a feminine voice asked. A glance and Harry was blown out of his mind. Never thought that I would finally meet her. There she was: a radiant angel with a child. Following this ever-so-lovely angel was his childhood best friend. When did I lose the innocence? "Hello, Hermione," Harry answered.
"Harry! When did you arrive?" This question was voiced by the red-head who gave the now-standing Harry a large hug and a slap at the back. Still friends. "Just today." He answered.
Still with a cheery grin, Ron whistled up a waiter and asked to bring Harry's table set to his own. Making an effort to begin a life-long reunion after three years of absences. Joining them, Harry was whisked away to a history of a person who has his name, but was not him now. Joking like good times and reminiscing on memories of a bygone era. While all three were heavily in the War, Hermione and Ron were together during the long war of five years. Searching for the Horcruxes brought new emotions that had to be dealt and expressed. For Harry, it was a time to bring his "secret weapon" of love against Voldemort. Vowing never to allow their kids to be brought up in a land of terror. His love for the then not-even-conceived child was, and still is strong. A promise to her (unbeknownst to her) Harry has placed in his will, all his property and funds from his vault to the child of Ron and Hermione Weasely.
"So how about visiting the sights together, Harry?" a pause. "Harry? Mate? You inside?" Ron asked. "Yeah. Sorry. Just remembering the past," a partial truth. "What was it you said?"
"How about visiting around this b-e-a-utiful archipelago of islands, eh"
"Sure. Just tell me the time and I'll be there"
The rest of the time was filled with fake, but to the untrained, quite real, laughs and jokes of times of old. Retiring as soon as the courses were over (three courses) Harry bid them goodnight and patted the little carrot-patch and waved goodbye.
Author Note: Chapt 2 is done. Thanks for the support from 1 (one) person who reviewed. It kept me going. I promise (though it will be belately done) this story will go to a more cheerful note. Until next time