HARRY POTTER AND THE UNFORGIVEN
A Sixth Year Harry Potter Fanfiction
BY
Jayiin Mistaya
"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus."
...never tickle a sleeping dragon
COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to Harry Potter. Those rights are held, exclusively, by JK Rowling, and any other entities, corporations, subsidiaries, or groups not named here possessing legal rights to the aforementioned books and/or trademark.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Awesome responses on the last chapter. Thank you very much!
Thanks to everyone who has been reading, even if you haven't reviewed, and especially to those people who have me on author alert or favorites.
More information on Harry Potter and the Unforgiven can be found at my website, which is linked in my Author Profile.
Feedback of any kind is always appreciated. Remember, the more reviews I get, the faster I post.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:Thanks to Elusive Evan for making me continue to post this and to ElvenLaughter for support and reviewing every single chapter to date. Thanks to Seritha for giving this chapter one last once-over.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Shopping
The bus took Harry and Gracie to Little Whinging's major center of commerce. The Afternoon Market was really nothing more than several strip malls, restaurants and the cinema clustered in one corner of town. The obligatory historical marker said that the Afternoon Market used to only be open late afternoons and odd Saturdays, but as people needed more jobs and wanted to buy more things, the Afternoon Market was soon an all-day, every-day market, but no one felt like changing the name.
Harry had lived in Little Whinging most of his life, but had never been to the Afternoon Market before. In its own way, it was as exotic and fascinating as Diagon Alley. Muggle teenagers were all over the place, dressed in all kinds of strange costumes. Some of the girls left Harry staring rather rudely – not even Parvati or Lavender got away with wearing so few clothes!
He followed Gracie as she perused from shop to shop, not paying too much attention to what she bought. When he noticed that some of it was obviously for him, he tried to get her to stop. She'd already bought him several shirts and pants, and to his extreme embarrassment, several packages of boxers and socks. As with the clothes she'd already given him, it was all black.
I guess she really isn't all that great at fashion, but at least everything matches.
"Gracie, you don't need to..."
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "No, I don't. But I am anyway. Someone's gotta take care of you, kid, and I'm volunteering for the job."
He wanted to try to talk her out of it, but knew it was hopeless. When I get a chance to get to Gringott's, I'll find a way to send her money for all this stuff.
With that in mind, he kept his silence until she dragged him into an optometrist's shop. He started to protest, but she didn't let him.
"How long have you had those glasses?"
He shrugged. "Ten year or so, I guess. A while."
"Too long. That's bad for your eyes, and probably doesn't help your schoolwork." She looked at him hard. "Don't argue with me about this. I have the money, and more. And your National Health Card works for stuff like this, too."
"I'm sure it does." Harry answered quietly. "But I don't have one. The Dursleys never bothered with it for me."
Gracie's face darkened, and she nodded. Harry tried to remain as unobtrusive as he could while Gracie haggled with the man behind the counter. Eventually, they reached some kind of agreement.
The man from behind the counter took Harry to a back room and ran him through a gamut of vision tests, cumulating with a large metal apparatus with multiple lenses. The process felt awkward and was another reminder to Harry that he had never really been a part of the Muggle world.
"Now, pick out new frames." She gestured around at the selection, and Harry blanched. He had no idea where to even start.
"What do you think would look good?"
She rolled her eyes. "You're hopeless, kid."
He couldn't help but grin. "Yeah, probably."
Gracie helped him pick out a pair of black wire rimless frames, and they agreed to come back in a couple of hours to pick up them up. They walked back into the afternoon sunlight, and Harry watched teenagers around his age laughing and talking with friends, couples holding hands...he saw two guys, one of them with dyed blue hair, teasing a shy girl who gave as good as she got.
There was a hollow ache in his chest as he walked.
"Missing your friends?" Gracie asked softly.
"Yeah." Harry nodded. "I probably won't get to see them until September first, when we all catch the train to school at King's Cross."
Gracie smiled at him. "I bet they miss you too, kid. You're really not half bad, you know." She paused just long enough for a mischievous twinkle to appear in her eyes. "Anyone special?"
"No, not really." Harry shook his head, remembering his disastrous relationship with Cho Chang. Strangely, his stomach no longer did flip-flops when he thought about the Ravenclaw Seeker – and in fact, it hadn't since the embarrassing afternoon at Madame Puddifoot's. "Almost, but it wasn't meant to be."
Gracie frowned. "Why not?"
Harry looked up at her with those shadowed eyes, as if considering something. "Honestly?"
"I think I can handle it, kid."
Harry closed his eyes. He wanted to tell her, but he couldn't. "I'd rather not get into it. It was messy, and I should have known better than to get involved with her when I did."
Gracie shrugged. "Fair enough, I suppose. But you can talk to me. I won't judge, and I won't send you away."
Harry could see in her eyes she wanted him to be honest. "I'll try."
"Right then," she said, "what about whoever you thought said your name?" At his surprised look, she grinned. "Oh, come on, kid, I saw your face light up. Who is she? And does she know who she is?"
This time, when Harry laughed, it was honest amusement – the first she'd heard from him all summer.
"Hermione? And me?" He shook his head and grinned widely. "Not hardly. Ron – my best mate – and her, maybe. You should hear how they bicker. Bloody hell, if they don't get it sorted out soon I'm going to lock them in a broom closet somewhere until they do!"
Or I would if Hermione wouldn't hex me into next year...
Gracie laughed with him. "Anyone you got your eye on?"
Harry shook his head, looking down at his feet. "No, no one. It's not really something I think too much about these days."
...And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives...
There wouldn't be anyone for a long while – maybe not ever. He sank back into silence.
But Gracie's question had sparked thought; he didn't want anyone like Cho Chang. That kind of drama was best left for guys like Michael Corner. Nor would someone like Hermione suit him; her need to understand and analyze him would make him climb the walls.
So what did he want?
He wanted to be comfortable with someone he was 'with' like that; be able to just sit in silence. They would have to be comfortable with Ron and Hermione too. There was no way he was allowing a possible romance get in the way of his friendships with those two.
They would have to be able to stand up to him; to do what Ron and Hermione did and tell him when he was wrong, and force him to face what he did and didn't do. Hold him accountable. And be honest; not hide things from him for his own 'protection'. He didn't want to have to wade through a quagmire of hints or games to figure out where he stood with someone he was dating.
She would have to want – need – family as much as he did. Someone like Molly & Arthur Weasley, who made you family, willing to adopt the stray kid abandoned at King's Cross without knowing who he was.
Most of all, that person would have to know him as Harry Potter. A person; not a hero, or a savior or a wizard playing a predestined part.
None of this will matter...until the Prophecy is fulfilled it's useless to try. I can't leave someone like that to live on after I die. Ron and Hermione will be bad enough, but they'll have each other. And if I don't die, then I can go out and romance anyone I damn well please.
Gracie saw his face, and she wondered. There was something he wasn't telling her. But like she had said at the beginning of summer...there were some things she wasn't going to ask about.
Like the scar on his hand, where someone had carved the words 'I will not tell lies.'
- 0 -
They stopped for lunch at an outdoor café and she bought them both sandwiches. While she was ordering, she leaned back over her shoulder, noticing how well black suited him. He was a slender shadow against the bright sky. With his pale face and green eyes and his natural quiet, had the wounded and vulnerable look many would-be Goths spent hours trying to fake.
She smiled, watching him as he looked up at the sun, his face softening as his eyes half-closed. He had grown at lot since she'd first met him, and she was glad to see him finally relaxing a bit.
She saw he'd slipped the glove back on at some point – probably when he'd seen her sneaking glances at his hand. To his credit, he'd tried hard to hide it, but Gracie had been trained to see things others tried to hide.
"Whatcha' want to drink, kid?"
Harry blinked and turned away from the sun. "Whatever you're having."
"No favorites?"
Shaking his head, Harry thrust his hands into his pocket; she watched his fingers move under the fabric touch the strange piece of polished wood he always carried, reassuring himself it was still there.
What the hell is that thing, anyway?
"Not really." He didn't want to tell her he hadn't tried all that many Muggle drinks. The Dursleys had let him have water, occasionally treating him with milk or juice. "Besides," he gave her a crooked half-smile, as if sharing a secret with her, "I don't think you can get pumpkin juice around here."
"Pumpkin juice?" She mouthed silently, and pointed to two bottles of Dr Pepper. "We'll take those."
She paid for lunch, and walked over to a table, where they deposited their purchases. The muscles in Harry's arms relaxed, and he looked down at the dozen plus bags at his feet, realizing just howmuch she had bought...and that more than half was for him.
Gracie sat down with a groan and a sigh.
"I miss America at times like this...an honest mall would have made this easier."
Harry looked up. "You're from the states?"
"Yeah." Gracie sighed. "From Texas, actually. Haven't been back since I was kid. I finally lost my Texas drawl sometime back during my stint in Scotland Yard."
"Oh." Harry forced himself to take a bite of his sandwich, and washed it down with a swallow of the fizzy dark cola. He blinked in surprise. "This is good."
Gracie grinned. "My father had a saying: nothing can't be made better with Dr Pepper and chocolate. Since I'm allergic to the latter, I stick to the former."
"You're allergic to chocolate?" Harry stared at her in abject horror. Merlin, if someone sends Dementors this summer...
"What?" She asked. "It's not like it's a matter of life and death, kid." She took a long pull from her drink and sighed in satisfaction. "So, where are you from?"
Harry looked at her blankly, as if he had never really considered the question. "I was born in Godric's Hollow...but my parents died when I was a baby. My Aunt and Uncle took me in...they had to, I think." His voice had grown a little distant, and he had set his food down, but was toying with the condensation on his soda. He took another swallow.
"I grew up in Little Whinging, with my cousin. But I've spent the last five years away at school, except the summers."
Gracie polished off both her sandwich and soda, forcing herself not to push too hard. It was hard. She wanted to ask him so many things. About who in his family was beating him. How much he got to eat. And some pointed questions about where he really went to school. But she knew better; she knew if she pushed things, he'd clam up and run away.
But damn it all, I like this kid. If I can get him to open up, I can get him out of there. Maybe while he's in school I can get a few of my friends from the Yard to look in on those relatives of his...
He'd said he went back to school on September first. That gave her a little over a month to work on him, ferret out what she needed to know to get him removed from his relatives' custody. Still, there were some things she could do in the meantime. Watching how he ate slowly, savoring every bite, not wasting a crumb confirmed her suspicions about how well he was eating.
Gonna have to start bringing lunch for the two of us. I haven't been in the habit of eating lunch since I was a rookie, but a teenage boy needs a lot more food than an old woman.
At least he was finally talking to her, at least a little.
"So, where's school, kid?"
Harry looked up and met her gaze steadily. "St Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys."
Gracie snorted. "I told you before, you're not much of a liar. No such place exists, kid, and I would know."
He took a small bite of his sandwich, but didn't say anything.
"Let me guess." She leaned back in her chair with a sigh. "That's your story, and you're sticking to it."
He shrugged self-consciously. "'Fraid so."
"Hmph. One of these days, I'm going to figure out your damn mystery, kid, and then, we'll just see."
Harry didn't blink. He just looked at her. "Please don't. I don't want you to get hurt."
Or lose you to an Obliviator.
Gracie stretched, her back popping. "Kid, I'm the most tenacious, stubborn old woman you're ever going to meet. I've taken a liking to you; you don't make a big deal out of having the crap kicked out of you every night by your family, and you don't whimper at me when I make you work hard. You're brave and strong, and I get the feeling you're gonna be brave and strong until it kills you."
The boy actually chuckled. "People tell me that a lot. And you're all probably right. But it's the way things are, for now."
Her voice softened. "I'm also damn patient. I can wait until you're ready."
He looked down at his hands and whispered. "Thank you. For everything...and I wish I could tell you. I want to, so much. To tell you everything. You're the only one I think might be willing to listen and understand. But I can't."
She could hear the desperation in his voice. He really did want to tell her, and really felt he couldn't.
Sensei would be proud of me right now...not only taking a student, but taking care of him the way he did me.
Gracie put her hand over his; she hid her own wince as he flinched.
I wish he would stop doing that. But she knew he wouldn't. It was pretty typical for an abused kid to react that way to physical touch.
"Kid, no matter what, I'm here, all right? 'Cause someone has to be. Trust me, if you need me, I'm there. Just call me. My number's in the backpack – outside pocket, with a prepaid calling card. Anytime. You got that?"
Harry looked up in shock, blinking away sudden tears. "You don't have to..."
Gracie shook her head. "No, I don't. And I mean it. Call me anytime, day or night. If you need money for school, someone to talk to, an adult to sign a form, or just a shoulder to cry on. Anything. Now, come on. Eat."
Harry dutifully took another bite of the sandwich.
- 0 -
After lunch, she insisted on buying him a new pair of boots to replace his worn trainers.
He couldn't argue with her reasoning. "Boots last longer, hold up under wear and tear better."
Iwill pay her back, every pound, as soon as I can. He didn't want her to buy him anything else. He didn't like accepting charity, and it chafed at him that he knew he had the money to pay her back, and more, but couldn't get to it.
He drew the line when she tried to buy him a new watch and wallet.
"No, Gracie. I can't accept any more. I'll be fine without a watch, and I've never needed a wallet. Nothing to put in it, anyway." He saw her set her jaw determinedly and sighed. "I appreciate it all, I really do. It'll be hard enough just getting what you've given me past the Dursleys."
"All right, kid, all right," she relented. "But there's a couple of other things I'm gonna give you later that I won't let you say no to. One of 'em, you'll need later today, and there's one other thing I'm gonna buy for you today. Okay?"
"Deal," Harry said. "Just one more thing, though. I've got as much as I can carry, anyway."
When they left the store, Gracie looked at her watch. "We've got just enough time to take you to get a haircut and get a proper shave. Whoever taught you didn't do a very good job."
Harry looked down, ashamed. "No one taught me. Today was the first I've ever tried. I just did the best I could."
She took his chin into her hand, wishing for the millionth time he didn't flinch when she touched him. "Not bad, then. But I think I'll have to make sure you learn properly, otherwise you'll slit your own throat." She dropped her hand. "Come on, then. I know just the place."
She took him to an old fashioned barber shop hidden away behind a pub, and greeted the proprietor by name and with a hug. The stout, balding man grinned at Gracie and slapped her back hard.
"Gracie, old girl, you should stop by more!" He pulled away from her and looked down at Harry, before thrusting out his hand. "Ken Morrison."
Harry shook his hand firmly. "Harry Potter."
"Right then." He gave Harry a cursory once over. "I'm wagering you brought the boy in for a haircut?"
Gracie nodded. "And I was hoping you'd help me teach the boy to shave. I figure between the two of us we can help him get it right."
He snorted. "Woman, I have been shaving this face for as long as you've been alive! What makes you think I'd need help teaching a boy how to perform a man's most delicate art?"
Gracie held up her hands in amused surrender. "Fine, fine, I'll leave you to it." She wandered over to the waiting area and picked up one of the outdated magazines.
Ken stroked his graying blonde moustache. "You want to learn the easy way, or the right way?"
Harry was definitely confused now. What kind of question was that? "Sir?"
Ken pointed at a barber's chair positioned in front of a mirror and what looked like a dresser with a built in sink. "Sit."
Harry complied, awkward and nervous all over again.
"There are two or three ways to shave. Electric razors cost a pretty penny, at least if you want a good one, and usually do a piss poor job. Safety razors are cheap and easy to replace and do a decent enough job. But a good old fashioned straight razor is something you can buy once and keep for years if you take good care of it, and will give you the closest shave you can have."
Ken pulled out an assortment of things that wouldn't have looked out of place in Snape's potions dungeons. "Shaving cream is damn useful, and'll keep you from scraping your face off. There are a couple of options. Aerosol spray foam works just as well as a bowl and brush, but lasts a tenth as long. A bowl and brush, like a straight razor, are an investment in proper grooming. You just need to replace the shaving soap itself when it runs out."
Harry's nervousness grew as the Ken ran hot water into a steel basin and flipped open a straight razor, running across a leather strop. "I'm gonna give you a proper shave, but I'll show you how to use any of the options I've talked about."
Swallowing hard, Harry looked back at Gracie, who just shrugged. "Don't look at me. It's a guy thing."
Harry thought fast. The electric razor sounded like the least dangerous option, but Hogwarts didn't exactly have electricity. He had no idea how he would go about replacing aerosol shaving cream or safety razors at Hogwarts, which left what Harry was sure was the most dangerous option.
Great. Now I can kill myself shaving, too.
- 0 -
Gracie was still laughing at him when they got back to the gym.
"I thought your eyes were gonna bug out of your head when Ken tilted your head back and came at you with that razor!"
Harry just sighed, and adjusted his new glasses. The new prescription was better than his old, but he wasn't used to them yet.
I am so glad Ron wasn't there. Or the twins. I'd never hear the end of it.
She patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about, kid. You made Ken a happy man today, going with the 'proper kit for a young man'."
The aging barber certainly had been pleased when Harry had let Gracie buy him a straight razor, strop, wood bowl, brush, extra soap, polish and whetstone, and a leather case for the whole lot, but he winced every time he thought of the price. He'd been even more surprised when Ken had thrown a small sewing kit, comb, brush, and fingernail kit into the case, followed by what looked to be a very fancy toothbrush and tube of toothpaste.
"Everything a young man needs to stay well groomed!" Ken had said. "It's not every day someone your age buys the proper kit, and I'll be good and damned if I'll let you walk out of my shop with it incomplete!"
Harry had just sighed and thanked them both.
I'm sure the Gringotts goblins have a way to send money to the Muggle world. Or Dumbledore will know.
"I guess you got away with buying me more than one thing," Harry said.
"Nope!" Gracie said cheerfully. "A toiletry kit is just one thing!"
Harry rolled his eyes, uncomfortable with how much Gracie had bought for him, but not sure telling her would be the best way to show his gratitude.
They walked around behind the gym, where Harry saw a large motorcycle tucked into a corner near the rear exit.
"My baby." Gracie patted it with proprietary pride. "Let's get loaded and out to my place."
Harry had no idea how she did it without magic, but she managed to fit everything they'd bought into the saddlebags and storage on the bike. She produced a pair of helmets and a pair of leather jackets. The one she slid on was bulky and black with polished silver studs and looked well-worn. The other she threw to him.
He caught it, surprised at how soft and supple the leather was. The jacket was far more streamlined than she one she threw to him, but was cut in a similar style and had a multitude of discreet pockets. The leather was a muted silvery blue, and when he looked at it closely, he could see patterns of what looked like tiny scales. When the fading sunlight hit it, it seemed to ripple and shimmer iridescently.
It feels like dragonhide...but why would Gracie have a dragonhide jacket?
"I know it's hot, but you want to wear the jacket. It'll protect you from flying road debris and the wind."
"Thanks," he said, pulling it on. Unlike what he expected, the jacket wasn't hot at all. The leather seemed to breathe well, a lot like his glove.
"An old friend of mine, a crazy hippy named Wulfric, wore that when he went riding with me. He left it with me when he went off on some kind of walkabout fifteen or sixteen years ago. I haven't seen him since, so I reckon there's no harm in your having it."
Harry nodded, muttered his thinks, and fastened it up like she had done hers. After she'd helped him adjust the helmet, he awkwardly climbed onto the small back seat.
"Arms around me. Hold on tight."
Harry barely had time to grab hold of her before she peeled out of the back parking lot.
End Chapter
Revised 12-25-07
