43 - Judgement
Harry was being stared at. This was nothing new for the wizard but hadn't happened that often in this world - not when he wasn't doing anything particularly strange, but just going to the shops for some groceries.
He assumed that the group who was nudging each other and following him with their eyes might be Wesen, might have seen something in his eyes to make them assume he was a Grimm, but if any of them had shifted for a moment into their more animal looks, had Woged, then Harry had missed it.
Despite his past, his fame and how accustomed he'd gotten to being stared at and judged from a distance, Harry had never actually learned how to do anything about it.
He wasn't Nick, who despite his policing and skills in fighting with medieval weapons somehow also managed to present a friendly front to frightened Wesen – who could make them trust that he was there to help them. Or Rosalee, who was warm and kind and could assure almost anyone that things would be better. Still, despite himself, Harry looked at the small clump of people and tried a reassuring smile and a nod of acknowledgement, only to see their eyes widen and one of the younger men actually recoil.
The wizard's lips firmed and turned away to face the direction he'd been going in. With a tense frame, he ignored the eyes on him as he continued on - his regular, boring trip to the grocery store now suddenly a trial to go through. It wasn't just the stares of the people here he was trying to force himself past, though, but also the many unpleasant memories that were suddenly right there at the front of his mind. Of his second year at Hogwarts, of the Triwizard Tournament, of that farce of a trial at the Ministry about the dementors.
All the scrutiny he was always under and even here, a world away, he still couldn't escape it.
He halted, abruptly not in the mood for spending the rest of the day in the company of his own thoughts. Never mind the bloody groceries, Harry turned instead towards a bus stop, digging out his mobile phone as he went.
"Hullo, Monroe," he started after the man picked up. "You mind having a guest over for dinner?"
"Uuh, no? I mean, no of course not, there will be plenty of food. You know you can come over any time, yeah?"
It had taken him a while to know that. Harry had grown up independent and had always been very certain that he was unwelcome, unwanted, until Ron and Hermione had taught him differently.
And while Monroe was not a friend who he'd fought a troll and a war with, he was a friend and Harry had slowly become more and more certain of his welcome. He knew that when he showed up at Monroe's, there would be awkward rambling, a bit of fussing, vegetarian dishes and a complete lack of judgement.
Right now that sounded just about perfect.
(Word Count: 510)
