A/N: Hi everyone. Just as a warning, this story will have blood, swearing, murder, sex, and references to drugs. Just so you know what you're getting into.
I love me a dark comedy. Enjoy the inner workings of my somewhat twisted mind.
December
I paced around the room frantically, trying to come up with a plan.
Alright, Mika, think. There are at least six psychopaths out there, and they've all proven they're capable of murder. You have no wand, no tricks, and no real fighting ability. What do you do?
Run like hell?
Can't do that.
Why the fuck not?
They've got Al.
Shit. This is why I don't date.
I ran my hands through my hair in frustration, tugging through the tangles.
I could really use some dry shampoo right now, honestly.
My inner thoughts were interrupted when I heard footsteps outside the empty classroom. Cursing inwardly, I threw the cloak over my head and moved to the corner of the room.
The door opened, and two people stepped inside.
"I'm telling you, I heard something over here," one of them said. I scowled as I realized who it was.
Traitor, I thought, seeing his Gryffindor tie. What an arse.
"Potter was caught on the other side of the castle," Arse #2 said. My heart skipped a beat at the name. "If they were together, I doubt she'd have made it all the way here without getting caught." He was swinging a machete around in his right hand- how the hell did he sneak a machete into Hogwarts, anyway?
"I heard something."
"You think it was her?"
Arse #1 shrugged. "Not sure. Could be someone else, to be fair. We can't be sure we got everyone."
"Are we meeting back at the library to deal with Potter or do we go up to the Astronomy Tower with the others?" Arse #2 asked. Library. Al's in the library.
"I think we go upstairs," the first one replied. "Cook has Potter, he doesn't need our help. Hawke couldn't take Cook on her best day."
I watched the two tall blokes open cupboards and check under desks. "No one's in here," Arse #1 shrugged eventually.
"Told you," his friend rolled his eyes. Now that they were a little closer, I noticed the blood that had dried over the blade of his machete. He ran a finger down the blade, a trace of blood evidently getting on his hand, because he quickly wiped it off on his robes.
Now that's just unsanitary, and definitely going to stain.
"What time do we need to meet back up with the others?" Arse #1 asked.
"Apparently we need to be done with everything by sunrise," Arse #2 said. "So we have about eight hours to go."
"Shit. I need some coffee or something."
"Same. I don't know how Cook has been so energetic about all this," the other frowned.
"It's called coke energy," Arse #1 snorted.
"That's probably true. Do you reckon he'd share?" Arse #2 looked hopeful.
"Doubt it," Arse #1 said as they headed for the door. "He's possessive. He almost lit me on fire for trying to kill Jones before he could."
His mate laughed, and started to say something back, but by then their voices were muffled by the wall, as they'd turned the corner and were out in the corridor.
I listened for a few more moments as their voices and footsteps faded the further they got down the hallway.
Once I felt satisfied they were gone, I pulled the cloak off and went to sit on one of the desks. I needed to get my head on straight.
Al is in the library. That was great to know, but what was I supposed to do about it? He was probably tied up, literally, with a round-the-bend-psycho-dickhead holding him hostage. Those guys were right- I couldn't take Simon Cook. He had at least a foot of height on me, and probably a good eighty pounds of extra muscle.
And, as I'd witnessed firsthand, he could snap an arm like a fucking toothpick.
Think, Mika, I thought harshly. You don't have time to dick around in here all night.
I reopened my tiny backpack, evaluating what was left of the contents. I had a single dungbomb, a chocolate frog, one of those wizard's whoopie cushions that blasted people off of them, and the lighter I'd nicked from Glover earlier.
Aside from the chocolate frog, which I would definitely eat later, they were all pretty potentially helpful, to an extent, but I wasn't sure how I'd get myself into a position to use them at all.
I did have the cloak. But if the library doors were shut, then I'd have no chance at getting inside without a distraction of some sort. None of these would work for that.
Unless…
I grimaced when I realized my only remaining options.
I threw my pack back on and pulled the cloak over myself once again. Deep breaths, Mika, I told myself. Time to fuck some shit up.
I took a few more breaths, bouncing in place a little to pump myself up. I slapped my arms and legs a little too, the way swimmers do before races. I may have been averse to hard drugs, but I needed to match Cook's aforementioned "coke energy" if I was going to survive this.
Alright, I sighed. Let's do this.
First, I took my shoes off and stuffed them into my bag. The heels were making my footsteps far too easy to hear, hence the pricks finding me earlier after my pacing.
I set off down the hallway, a little cautiously since the two arses had gone this same direction. I was pretty sure they'd be going down to the kitchens, since they'd mentioned wanting coffee. The library was on the main floor, so as long as they stayed preoccupied down in the basement, I could eliminate those two as threats. Glover was obviously out of the picture.
Shit. Who else is in on all this, though?
I shook the thoughts out of my head. I'd just overheard them mention that Cook would be the only one guarding Albus. The thought was sort of eerie- it was probably a trap. In fact, I felt near certain that it'd be a trap. But I couldn't very well abandon Albus Potter.
My internal panic continued all along my walk downstairs. If the plan didn't work, I would more than likely be dead within the next twenty minutes.
And if it did work, the best case scenario was that Albus and I would spend the next eight hours running for our lives.
Don't panic, Mika, I told myself again. You got this. Think positive thoughts. Puppies. Marshmallows. Roller coasters. Albus Potter, shirtless, on a broom. Simon Cook's head on a spike.
I moved quickly, my socks masking the sound of my footsteps despite the fact that I was almost running.
After a few more flights of stairs, I reached the library corridor. I paused, looking around, and trying to listen for voices or any signs of someone approaching. I heard nothing.
Shit. Okay. Here goes.
I took the chocolate frog out of my backpack as quietly as possible before unwrapping it and placing the frog down on the floor, just outside the Invisibility Cloak.
I stepped back and waited for it to start hopping and croaking.
It just sat there.
"Fucking move," I hissed at it. Nothing. Not even a tinny ribbit.
Are you fucking kidding me, the one time my stupid frog doesn't try to get away-
I broke off from my internal fuming with a heavy sigh, pressing my hands to the sides of my head.
I had a backup plan. It was just one that I really, really didn't want to have to resort to. Sadly, I pulled my shoes out of my pack. My lovely, dark, heeled ankle boots that I loved so damned much.
I hugged them close for a second. Forgive me, my babies.
And then, gathering up the cloak enough to reach my arm out, I chucked them at the wall on the far end of the corridor, as hard as possible, one by one.
In the quiet hall, the sound seemed to echo about the walls after each thud.
I had just pulled my arm back under the cloak when the library door was thrown open. I turned with wide eyes, almost screaming before I remembered I was invisible.
Simon Cook was a massive bloke, nearly six and a half feet tall. His arms were each fucking trees, and I found myself wondering why he'd never played Quidditch. He'd have made for one hell of a Beater.
Blood still stained his white button-up shirt, and his eyes were underlined by dark circles. He looked bloody scary.
Cook stormed down the hall toward the wall at which I'd thrown my shoes, and I took the opportunity to sneak past him into the library. As he investigated, I pulled out the whoopie cushion and placed it at the foot of the door just inside, pulling the entrance way's rug over to cover it up a bit. It stuck out a bit, but someone as tall as he was probably wouldn't notice it.
Turning around, I scanned the area quickly. I didn't see Albus off the bat, and ran forward, darting down the halls.
Finally, I found him. He was tied up in a chair near the back of one of the halls of book stacks. My stomach lurches a little at the sight of him- the shadows under his eyes made the ones on Cook look bright, and the corner of his lip was coated in dried blood. His messy dark hair was tousled even more than usual, a few strands hanging down his forehead.
Is it sick to think he looks hot right now?
I crept up to him quickly yet quietly. He was looking down the next nearest hall curiously, craning his neck.
I pulled the cloak off enough to show my face. "Al!" I whisper-shouted.
He jumped, sucking in a breath. "Fucking hell, Mika, you scared me."
"Are you alright?" I demanded in a whisper.
He nodded. "I'm fine. Get out of here though," he whispered back, his eyebrows drawn together. "They know I was with someone- they have me here as bait."
"Well, I'm getting you out anyway," I whispered back urgently. "He'll be back any second, so shush."
The ropes they'd used on him were thick, and I couldn't get them untied. I pulled the lighter out of my pocket. "This might get warm," I warned. "Hold still."
"Mika," Albus said quietly. "I need to tell you something."
"It'll have to wait," I said as I held the small flame to the ropes. It burned them, but it was working far slower than I would have liked.
"You're going to want to hear it," he said, looking worried.
"Not now, Al," I shook my head. "Come on, rope, burn faster."
"Mika," he insisted.
I glared at him. "Would you shut it and let me save you?" To my relief, the rope burned away from his wrist. I quickly moved to the other side.
He looked frustrated. "You need to know-"
His words were cut off as we heard the distinct sound of shouting coming from not too far away, probably from just outside the library.
"Shit," I cursed, waving the flame desperately. It was so close, just hanging by threads.
"Fuck it," Albus muttered, and drew his arm up aggressively. He pulled through a few of the threads, though it must have hurt, because he hissed slightly. Still, this was life-or-death, so he pulled again, and then his arm was free. He went to work on one of the ropes around his left leg while I started burning away the one on the right.
"You know, any other day I would have loved to have you kneeling in front of me while I sit tied up in a chair," he mused.
I resisted the urge to punch him in the dick, instead pulling at the rope as more strands gave away under the fire.
A large bang startled us both.
"Oh gods, that's the whoopie cushion," I whispered sharply, pulling at the ropes persistently.
"Whoopie cushion?"
"No time," I said frantically. He was nearly free, so close now.
He'd gotten the knot on his left side undone. One more, just one more.
"Hey Mika," came a voice from behind me.
My shoulders tensed. I'd almost anticipated being caught, but the voice that called my name so casually wasn't from Simon Cook.
I turned around reluctantly. My stomach dropped.
A/N: Okay, it was short, I know. It was just a prologue, the rest will be full-length chapters. I realize this story will likely get significantly less attention that my other next-gen ones that'll I'll be cross-posting soon, but the idea was too intriguing to not write out. I'm just having some fun with it. I'm a few chapters in writing-wise, so first few updates will be quick! Let me know what you think.
If you're confused as to what's happening, and full of questions, good. ;) The first few chapters will sort of intro how they wind up in this situation and probably answer any questions you have.
Feel free to leave a review!
-K
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize isn't mine, it's all JK Rowling.
