CHAPTER 6:

THE FIRST STEP ON A SLIPPERY SLOPE

"…You miss her a lot, don't you?"

Pamela nodded as Harry contemplated the photo of Harley, back when she was Dr Harleen Quinzel, and Pamela in an Arkham Asylum jumpsuit. "I didn't have a photo of you. And I miss her, miss who she was…hell, even as she is now, she'd be great if she wasn't the Joker's mistress, and one whom he left to rot in Arkham."

"But why?"

Pamela looked to him. "Why do I miss her?" On his nod, she turned back to the photo. "…Because she's still smart, it's just being around the Joker lowers her IQ by at least half," Pamela said. "Besides, do you know how many of the female supervillains of Gotham I actually trust enough to talk about my feelings? Selina isn't quite there, and that's partly because she's a kleptomaniac with a bat fetish. And like I said, I had a bit of a crush on Harley until the Joker sunk his claws into her."

"I can see why. A blonde with such smarts…I did have a bit of a crush on Hermione for a while. I mean, she's not blonde, but…I guess after she went to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum, and then after getting pissed with her about keeping me in the dark…" Harry shrugged. "And I've seen Harley in that jester outfit. I think we can both agree she looks great in that, just as you can pull off…well, almost anything. Hell, you look good even in a prison uniform."

"Oh, that's so sweet of you. As for Harley, I know. If it weren't for the fact that it's basically the Joker's fap material, I'd be a lot more appreciative of that. But…well, that's what she is: basically the Joker's fetishized lover, a hybrid of sex doll and henchwoman. She wears that outfit because it's what he wants. It should be the wearer's choice or a mutual thing, right? No wonder some idiots call her the porn clown. She's made herself into a fucking bimbo because of him. And…well, to tell the truth, I am a little scared of her. I'm worried that if I ever met a Boggart, it'd turn into her."

"…Wait, what?"

"Look, hear me out. I want to be friends with her, but even if she was free from the Joker, she's so impulsive and chaotic, I'm worried she'd screw me over, even if unintentionally. I mean, she'd want to join the Legion of Doom, and those assholes don't treat their female members well. I mean, they have one female senior member, and Barbara Minerva got in on account of being one of Wonder Woman's biggest foes, and to tick boxes."

"Who's that one again?"

"Cheetah! You know, the one who looks like a cheetah girl!"

"Oh, right. I see what you mean, she's almost always in the background during press conferences."

"Yeah, you see what I mean! Luthor's been trying to rope me into the Legion of Doom for years, but again, it's a political correctness, box-ticking thing. If I'm in there, he'd probably show me the same respect as, well, Arkham's staff did to me." Pamela sighed. "And…if I'm honest, I'm worried about the glass ceiling."

"…Supervillains have a glass ceiling for women?" Harry asked with a flat look, one which she returned.

"Eco-terrorist, remember, but the public doesn't give a crap. And yeah. Before either of us were born, back in the 80s, there was this woman, the Queen of Fables. She fancied herself the American rival to Voldemort, from what I've managed to gather, and this was during Voldemort's first war against your government. Anyway, she used her magic to make the characters from various fairytales and nursery rhymes come to life. Reading what she did, I'm honestly pretty glad the Justice League stepped in."

"And what did she do?" Harry asked.

"Look, it ruined all my childhood tales for me, okay? I don't like talking about it. Suffice to say, she and Voldemort would have gotten along like a house on fire…or tried to kill each other to remove rivals. She steamrollered over MACUSA's forces too, but the Justice League managed to stop her. It was one of their first big events, too. It's why magic users who are part of the Justice League, or become supervillains, are tolerated, despite breaching the Statute. I only learned about this from Hermione a little while ago, the details involving MACUSA, anyway. Female supervillains are tolerated, but if we get too big for our britches, then what they do to us would be worse than Arkham. Then again, given what the Queen of Fables did, what the Justice League did to her was karma."

"And what did they do?"

"Imprison her in a hard copy of the US Tax Code."

Harry laughed. "You what?"

"Hey, it was the most unimaginative, boring book they could find to starve her of her power," Pamela said, though she smiled too. "Should've used Atlas Shrugged, but hey. Voldemort was at least smart enough to keep what he did hidden from the Justice League, and their mandate is mostly in the US anyway."

Harry nodded morosely, but he had to wonder…if the Justice League had bothered to look to Britain, would his life be in the mess it was now? It was now nearly two months since Pamela rescued him, and she had done more for him than any of those so-called heroes had. It's not like they could have saved everyone, but could they have done so for him, and for all those people in Britain? Would Remus or Tonks be alive? Fred? Cedric? His parents? Hedwig?

"Hey." On Pamela's voice, Harry turned to her. "Are you getting mopey again?"

"I'm always mopey," Harry snarked back.

"Yeah, but there's mopey and then there's mopey," Pamela said. "Believe me, I've lived that, I know there's no easy way to cure that, no magic pill. I mean, fuck, a good night's sleep is one of the best ways to help your mood, I speak from experience. At least for me."

"I know, and you're a good friend, Pamela. I don't have many of those, and most of them are in this city. I just…get caught up in these moods."

"And it's like looking into a mirror," Pamela said. "Hermione wants me to keep your ass safe, and not just from others. I mean, I am genuinely surprised that after all you went through, you haven't jumped off the roof. Not that I particularly want you to, but…"

"I'm not doing that anytime soon, Pamela," Harry said quietly. "I've been dead once already. I don't recommend the experience. Limbo looks like King's Cross Station, believe it or not."

"And I'm glad to hear that. And King's Cross Station, really?" Pamela asked with a raised eyebrow. On his nod, she said, "Wow…that's…I dunno what to actually make of that. Then again, my life is ridiculous. Hearing at least part of the afterlife looks like a train station, I shouldn't be surprised. I'm also pleasantly surprised that you're not suicidal."

"Well, even if I did try, your plants would probably catch me in mid-air."

"Well, they like you. You can't talk to them…" Frank cleared his throat pointedly from his pot, and Pamela shot him a glare. "…You can't talk to most of them, but they like the way you tend to them. Of course they would. Hell, I've had them give you massages, and you can't complain about that. If people weren't afraid I'd kill them, I'd make a less literal killing doing massages via vines."

"I just feel…again, it's like there's nothing I can do with my life, other than help around this house. I want to do something more."

Epiphanies may seem to come on suddenly, like a bolt from the blue. In truth, many come to be over a longer period of time, and it's only when they come into being that a sudden revelation occurs. Such it was for Harry. The past weeks had challenged his preconceptions, and honestly, he was resigned to not being a hero again. But while Pamela made it a point not to bring him into her lifestyle, it didn't mean he didn't want to participate per se. It was less about being a criminal, and more about helping Pamela.

"Well, if you want to do more, then maybe you could…" Pamela began, only for Harry to finish it.

"Help you with your next job."

"…Wait, what? No, Harry, I…"

"Just let me finish, Pamela, okay?" And to her credit, she did stop her angry admonishment. "Pamela…Hermione showed me your record, especially compared to other supervillains in this city, and yes, I know you call yourself an eco-terrorist, but…you get my point. You're part of what the press call Batman's Rogues Gallery, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"You're better than most in this city. Years ago, I wouldn't even consider this, but now…I'm a little jaded, to say the least, and while I can't say I'm happy about your bodycount, at least most of them were people who deserved it. And I want to help, even in a little way. I'm not saying I go with you to your heists or assassinations. I'm not sure I'm ready for that. But…if you ever want a sounding board, someone to keep you from going too far or something, or to stop you from making bad mistakes…I'm here. As a friend. As your friend."

For a time, Pamela just stared at him, her green eyes glistening suspiciously. "…Holy shit, that has to be…the sweetest way anyone has offered to be…well, not a henchman or a goon, but…oh my God, I…Harry, are you sure? I mean this technically makes you an accomplice."

"Wouldn't living here with you make me one in the eyes of Gotham?"

"…Given how fucked up the legal system is here, you're probably right. Okay…honestly, I can't forbid you from doing this, or anything else. But just so you know, you're taking a step onto a very slippery slope, even if you're only acting as a sounding board."

"Then I might as well throw my hands up and go 'WHEEE!' as I slide down," Harry said.

Pamela laughed. "Oh God, that's a hilarious image you just gave me…"

The feeling Pamela had was bittersweet as she embarked on her latest crime. She was raiding another one of Roman Sionis' backers. The mobster known as Black Mask was on the out with the Legion of Doom for calling Black Canary a 'cacophonic cunt in fishnets' (this was during an operation where Green Arrow and Black Canary were assisting Batman, to the grim vigilante's chagrin), and while Luthor was himself misogynistic, he at least was less so than Black Mask or, heaven forbid, Dr Psycho. Legion of Doom members weren't people Pamela could target with impunity, though outcasts from that organisation were another matter. Plus, Black Canary and her lover Green Arrow were all right. Pamela donated to many causes Oliver Queen helmed. And while Black Canary did dress in fishnets with a rather saucy leotard, honestly, she did pretty well for herself, and Pamela found herself insulted.

Really, the choice was between which of Black Mask's operations she was going to target, especially while he was out of town for meeting with other mobsters. There was that rusting shithole of a derelict smelting plant, of course, one that he used as a warehouse for his goods, and a loan shark business that was pretty tempting. But Harry suggested something on the list of targets, and while she was sure she would have thought of such a plan herself, it was nice to know he knew what she liked. She'd gotten one or two items from Hermione and Luna, but otherwise, she was going in alone.

The place in question was a clandestine drug factory, filled with hydroponics and the like, for growing marijuana, as well as refining harder drugs like amphetamines, party drugs, and so on. Now, most would probably burn the plants, but Pamela hated that sensation, and besides, this was analogous, in her eyes at least, to farm animals being kept in tight pens. So, she had something else in mind.

As she entered the drug factory, she formed one plant into a loudspeaker system, which could receive wi-fi signals. Specifically from her iPhone, which was currently playing A Left Foot Trapped in Sensual Seduction from the Hellsing soundtrack. As drug plants formed into plant monsters around her, a group of Roman's thugs gathered around, raising guns.

This part, specifically, she could blame Luna for. She was the one who got her into that damned Abridged Series. "So guys, how's your health plan?" she asked.

At least one of the goons knew what was coming, and began running. But Pamela had to dodge out of the way of gunfire, and she sicced the plants onto them. "Apparently it's GREAT!" she yelled from behind cover, as the plants attacked them.

Now, taking a leaf (heh heh) from Yakoff Smirnoff rather than Team Four Star, she emerged just as the gunfight died down, along with most of the goons, and said, to their corpses and the survivors, "In most of America, people smoke dope. In Gotham City, dope smokes you."

"…That joke physically hurt me," one surviving goon groaned, clutching his ribs.

"Okay, I haven't exactly had the practise," Pamela said with a shrug. One of the plants that had been turned into one of her minions came back with a suitcase full of money. "Thank you. Now, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to torch this place once I get my minions out. If you want to go back to Roman, be my guest, but remember, he won't take being beaten by a girl lying down. If I were you, I'd go back to UTI or something, and beg to have your contracts annulled."

"Fuck you, bitch!" rasped one man, unwisely, as he got to his feet with a gun in his hands, only for Pamela to blow some pheromones into his face. His eyes clouded as a goofy smile came across his features.

Self-defence, Pamela, she thought to herself. You're not seducing him, you're taking control of him to chlorinate the gene pool a little. Out loud, she said, "Okay, genius, you can give your gun a blowjob. Can you do that?"

"Yeth, mithtreth," he said around the gun he was already shoving into his mouth, before pulling the trigger.

As the rather pitiful contents of his skull painted a nearby wall, Pamela turned her glare to the others. "Anyone else feel like mouthing off to me?" They shook their heads. "That's what I thought. Get out of here, and get away from Sionis before he gets back from his little Mafia circle-jerk. He's on the out with the Legion of Doom, and honestly, I for one wouldn't think badly of you guys fleeing this particular sinking ship."

These goons were clearly smart enough to agree. "Always did like Black Canary," one of them muttered. "Why she's banging Green Arrow, I'll never know…"

Uh, because he's a better type of man than you? Seriously, Oliver Queen is what I'd look for in a CEO, Pamela groused in her head. She then held out a rope-turned-Portkey to her animated plants, who took it with a mental command from her. They vanished, to a cannabis farm in California that Luna had contacts at. Legal, of course, and Luna would be letting them know not to harvest the plants, though letting them breed would be allowed.

Several minutes later, she was watching the drug lab burn down from afar, the flames reflected in her eyes. Again, she felt bittersweet about this. Because, like it or not, Harry had taken his first steps into a life of crime. And, like she had indirectly with Harley, she'd led another person into that life.

But it felt good to nut things out with him. It was, despite everything, a bonding experience. That they were growing closer.

When Pamela lost her faith in humanity, from a combination of seeing her father's affair, and the abuse he put her and her plants through, as well as Harry's correspondence ceasing, she closed off her heart to all but her plants. Harleen Quinzel had opened a chink in that armour, and no matter how much she tried to reseal it after Harleen became Harley, she couldn't. And she was grateful.

Compassion towards humans, in the end, was not a weakness. Or rather, it was a double-edged sword, a strength as well as a weakness. Bonds with others could be exploited, but sometimes, they made life worthwhile, and people were stronger together.

It was at that moment, watching the burning drug lab, that Pamela Isley began letting Harry into her heart. Time would tell if he would reciprocate. After all, he had been burned once. Would he be able to trust her again?

CHAPTER 6 ANNOTATIONS:

Again, a little more angst, but with Harry having a minor epiphany and beginning to slide into a life of crime. And now, we have Ivy beginning to fall for Harry.

No numbered annotations this time.