In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 74: Crack
Ron flushed the toilet, stood in front of the mirror, and admired himself.
"I'm definitely a Weasley," Ron said to himself.
Ron left the bathroom, went down the steps, back down to the living room. Harry cross–legged, reading into the potions book. Hermione lying on that sofa, her head into Harry's lap across his leg. Ron laid back down on the other sofa across the coffee table, his back on the cushion, his head braced on the armrest.
"Need a cleaning charm?" Harry asked, "Hermione'll—"
"I know the muggle way," Ron stated.
Ron watched Hermione. A glance to those bottle greens, Harry snorted.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Imagine being at school," Harry said, "And not knowing Ron's being horny."
"Maybe there's something better on the telly," Hermione said.
A ring, she reached into her book–bag on the floor, brought her mobile phone to her ear.
"Hello?" Hermione sat up. "Say again?"
"Who is it?" Ron asked, unable to see those brown eyes, unable to snoop.
Hermione put her hand up, and Ron understood the hint. Though he studied her expression, the frown creeping over her face as she listened.
"Slow down." Hermione said, "What? … That's serious. … I'll tell him. … See you."
"Well?" Harry asked
Ron caught a glimpse of those brown eyes as Hermione spun, enough that Ron sat up, and her posture worked over to face Harry.
"That was Gia," Hermione said, "Somebody tried to kill her at school. They caught the sniper who had a picture and a contract on her—"
Harry stood and began to rush toward the door. Ron gave chase.
"Lasso!" Ron bellowed, his wand aimed as Harry was already out the door.
Ron felt the tug, the pull, running faster than his bare toes wanted to on the cool pavement. A left, into a park, and Harry slid beneath the large evergreen hedge. Harry's wand aimed at his own head, the words started.
"Avada—" Harry muttered.
Ron threw himself, plunged himself toward that hedge, and knocked Harry's wand before Harry finished uttering the curse. A bead of green struck the hedge, disintegrating it into a fine mist of ash.
"You had no right—" Harry seethed, his glaring bottle green eyes locked onto Ron's.
"My duty—" Ron started as he stood.
"Don't stop me!" Harry warned, still on his knees.
Again, the tip of the Holly wand began to saturate in green as Harry began to repeat the curse.
"Ventris autoodium!" Ron snapped, wand aimed at Harry.
Harry doubled over, hurled, the vomit wrenched out of him as he puked. Ron confiscated Harry's wand, banished it into his own holster. Harry's eyes tried to glare back up, instead, he went back to his hands and knees, and vomited again.
"What did you do?" Harry demanded.
This time, those bottle green eyes made it to Ron's, locked on, the anger, the wrath, apparent, before Harry doubled back over, puked a third time, gushing liquid onto the ground.
"What I had to do," Ron said, extending his hand down to Harry, "Please come back."
Ron squatted, his left arm beneath Harry's armpit, helped lift Harry up to a near standing posture. Harry's legs shook.
"The ground," Harry said, "it's spinning."
"Want me to try another curse?" Ron asked.
Harry stumbled to the ground, back to his hands and knees, puked again.
"I'll carry you," Ron offered.
Ron squatted, brought Harry's stomach to the right shoulder, and stood; lifted Harry into a fireman carry, Harry's legs in front.
"You can be really mean," Harry whispered, "You know that?"
"I…" Ron went quiet as he carried Harry back, knew his Mum would approve.
Ron carried Harry back into the house.
"What happened?" Hermione asked.
"Took ill," Ron lied.
Ron carried Harry up the stairs, into Gia's bedroom. Ron laid Harry down on the bed, went and closed the door.
"What the fuck did you do?" Harry asked, groggy and soft in the voice.
"It'll wear off," Ron said, "Better to sleep it off, discuss things later.
"Why thank you Dr. Weasley!" Harry snapped.
"Sleep or do I need to curse it?" Ron asked.
Harry threw himself a bit on the bed, pulled the comforter, and gave a snore. Ron understood the fake snore, still, Ron left the bedroom. He heard the conversation from below as the door opened.
"What happened?" Hermione asked.
"Where's Harry?!" Gia demanded.
Ron started down a couple of steps.
"Shh," Hermione said, "He took ill after hearing—"
"A bloody nightmare!" Gia exclaimed, "Got shot at—"
"Sorry," Hermione said.
"It's a freaking school!" Gia said, "I'm supposed to be safe!"
"They caught the sniper?" Hermione asked.
Ron picked up on Hermione's attempt to steer the conversation.
"I'm supposed to be safe!" Gia said, "Harry promised I'd be safe, but if this is the mark of a good relationship—"
"Harry told you the risks," Hermione said.
"Bit different when I'm in the crosshairs of some sniper!" Gia exclaimed.
"You accepted—Gia!"
A door slammed, sobs came from the study below. Ron climbed down the stairs, passed the glare from Hermione, and entered the study. Gia on the sofa, back toward the door, jumper in her hands as her face lifted up from it.
"Scram Hermione!" Gia demanded.
"Got gender identity—" Ron started, "I'll stay on this side."
Gia didn't twist, her gaze forward, the empty plant holders beyond.
"Sorry there Ron," Gia said, "She sent you, right?"
"No." Ron turned, sat on the hardwood floor behind the sofa, leaned into the leather. "Do you love Harry?"
"Of course," Gia said, "What kind of question—?"
"One that needed to be asked," Ron said.
Don't get me wrong," Gia said, "Harry's a great guy. Cute and super caring."
"His honey," Ron said.
"Sensitive, handsome," Gia said, "Harry warned me. He pestered me, tripled asked. Six shots, one got my jumper, not sure why I…like something pushed me."
"Weird," Ron said.
Ron understood. Ticks of the clock filled the air for the several moments it took Ron to make his thoughts coherent.
"Words cannot prepare for the first time," Ron said, "You thought it weird he hesitated like he did. Harry knew the threat, what's in store for you. And it's now a threat that'd likely persist regardless of what you do now. Harry knows the danger he's put you in, that's why he's upstairs sulking—"
"Sulking?" Gia asked.
"He's…" Ron said, before he thought to mind his words, "He's not taking it well."
Ron heard her stand up, Gia came around, and she left the study. Hermione turned the corner, her flashing brown eyes were trained on Ron.
"She's going to catch—" Hermione started.
"She won't," Ron said, "Thought she'd cheer him up."
Hermione sat down on the hardwood floor to Ron's left.
"Suppose I can fathom how she'll cheer him up." Hermione reached, grabbed Ron's crotch. "Sure that'll cure Harry."
Ron bit his tongue for a moment, turned his head toward the bushy brown haired friend.
"I cursed Harry," Ron admitted.
"Why?" Hermione said, "He's your friend."
"Had no choice," Ron said, "We have to protect them no matter the cost!"
"Oh, you're trying for sympathy?" Hermione said, "Help him meet his daily dose of bop?"
Ron unsure if she was using hyperbole or was being serious.
"What don't you understand?" Ron said, "They need each other. It's more than lust, it's the only thing they have to live for. Something the Death Eaters nearly stole away."
"Mind sparing that thought on us?" Hermione asked.
"We…" Ron said, "Know what we can do!"
Ron leapt up.
"Ron!" Hermione shouted.
Ron passed by Gia on the stairs, dashed into her bedroom, and closed the door. Ron grabbed quill and parchment, wrote three notes on the desk, before attached one to Pigwidgeon and two to Hedwig. Ron opened the window, sent the birds on their way.
"You could've asked," Harry said.
Ron spun around, Harry's sullen eyes returning the gaze.
"Sorry," Ron said, "Didn't want to disturb—sorry."
"Just what did you hit me with?" Harry demanded.
Ron cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door, reached and locked it. Ron sat on the bed near Harry's feet, turned to face Harry.
"You want to talk?"
"You attacked me!"
"Could've tried weeping, could've given yourself the Cruciatus Curse," Ron said, "Know that sniper hit you hard—but once you try suicide…Sorry Harry, I put my foot down. Know it wasn't your first try, suicide won't solve a bloody damn thing."
"Got Death Eaters after her—like I'm the one with the problem?"
"It's me." Ron moved a bit closer to Harry's midriff. "I've seen how life's being unfair to you, but depression's a problem. If you think suicide's the answer? Leave it to everybody else to find out how dead wrong you are."
"You're seeing it totally wrong," Harry said.
"Really?" Ron said, "With a curse that destroyed a bush? Suppose the Ministry's investigating."
"Them?" Harry asked.
"Killing curse in a muggle town?" Ron said, "I know what I saw."
Ron inched a bit closer to Harry's head.
"Been my friend since that day on the train." Ron focused on those eyes that tried to avoid his gaze. "Not letting you go, not like this."
Ron rested his hand on Harry's chest.
"Like Dudley would bother to help," Ron said, "We're your family, and you definitely need the help. Gotta talk about this, either me or I get Dumbledore—"
"That's extortion," Harry said.
"Glad you recognize the obvious." Ron stood. "I am not letting this slide, so I insist you talk."
"Need to take a piss," Harry said.
While Ron figured it to be a lie, he aimed his wand, summoned the unused chamber pot from the closet. Ron removed the note, placed it onto the floor next to the bed.
"Ask Hermione to transfigure it into a bed pan?" Ron asked.
"What?" Harry stammered.
"I haven't told her—yet," Ron said, "You've got mo excuses not to talk."
Harry closed his eyes, turned to his side, pulled the duvet over him, and tried to snore. A loud, fake snore permeated the room. Ron stood there as he watched, imagined the conversation.
"Ronald Weasley!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, "What on earth do you think you're doing?"
"Helping Harry," Ron said, "Bars on his window are trapping his mind."
Ron gritted his teeth, wished for even a scolding from his Mother. Also knew one word to Dumbledore and even more bars would ensnare Harry.
Ron kept his watch, kept his stand there, as Harry tossed and turned with his face buried into the pillow. About twenty minutes after he started to sleep, Harry sat up fast, bolted for the door. Harry the door knob, glared at Ron.
"There." Ron pointed at the chamber pot.
A shove of Harry's hands, pushed Ron backward onto the bed. Harry doubled over the chamber pot, puked.
"You cursed me!" Harry exclaimed.
"Funny curse." Ron had it memorized, the description in the book hadn't done it justice.
Harry scrambled onto the bed, straddled Ron on the hands and knees, those bottle green eyes peered down.
"Remove this jinx," Harry said, "NOW!"
Ron squirmed, stood, faced Harry and those eyes.
"Can't," Ron replied, "Not until…you figure it out."
Harry's right fist punched Ron in the stomach, the left struck Ron's shoulder. Ron stood there, kept himself from fighting back. Another to the chest, a kick to the shin, and to Ron's ribs. Bruises began to show, ones that Harry's pupils twitched as they focused. Harry ran back to the chamber pot, puked into it.
"You're supposed to fight back!" Harry snapped.
"That'd make you feel better?" Ron asked.
Harry puked again.
"I'm taking it," Ron stated.
Harry's hands pushed fast, Ron stumbled and fell his arse onto the floor, laid there. Harry's leg swung fast, a quick kick to Ron's crotch. Ron gritted his teeth, his hands moved and shielded as the second kick struck.
"I want my wand back!" Harry demanded.
Harry turned back to the chamber pot.
"And if I did?" Ron asked, his voice squeaked an octave high.
"Get out and see Gia!" Harry exclaimed. Ron spotted the lie behind those bottle green eyes.
Harry came back over, punched Ron. Ron blacked out.
Nothingness.
Harry shook Ron's shoulders as Ron came back to. Harry kneeling over Ron.
"Sorry," Harry said, "I shouldn't have—"
"Care to talk?" Ron asked.
"Should see what's growing in the pot," Harry said.
Ron went over, glanced at the foul stew, the odors invaded his nostrils, and Ron puked into the pot. Harry laughed. An aim from Ron's wand, the cleaning charm, and the pot emptied, the stench faded. Ron laid down on the bed, his hand rubbed at his crotch, massaged the throbbing away.
"Sorry about that," Harry said.
Harry laid down, next to Ron but opposite with heads at the other's feet.
"Think to ask Madam Pomfrey to come here and check those?" Harry asked.
"Having me castrated?" Ron asked.
Ron felt the extra set of fingers on his crotch, ones that rubbed at his briefs.
"No, sorry," Harry said, "Didn't mean to use you as a punching bag."
"It..it'll pass," Ron assured.
"It's…" Harry paused. "We knew this'd happen."
"Yep," Ron said, his mind unable to count all the hours he'd spent on research.
"She said she accepted it," Harry said.
"Coached her earlier," Ron said.
"It's different when it happens, and this time…" Harry said, "I…"
Deep breaths, Harry's bottle greens latched onto Ron's, over their bare chests.
"Go on," Ron said.
"They shot at her because she's my girl," Harry said, "It's an attack against me."
Harry laid his head back down.
"Yep," Ron said, "So you're trying to help them?"
"No, just thought…I thought…" Harry idled for a moment. "If I were gone, it'd spare her, spare you."
Ron knew the excuse, read about it, stayed quiet.
"It's why I tried to…" Harry paused. "You know… suicide."
Ron smelled it, Harry's green jockey underwear soaked fast around the bulge.
"Interesting," Ron said.
"Cursed a confession out of me?" Harry asked.
"That's not the curse," Ron stated.
"What'd you curse me with?" Harry asked.
"It turned your emotions into … well you know," Ron said, "I used it because I'd rather you puke yourself silly than suicide. I at least gave you the chance to reconsider."
"What if I don't reconsider?" Harry asked.
Ron lifted his head, elbows propped him up.
"You're fucking worth it!" Ron said, "You're worth knowing! Ever really stop to think what happens when you're dead?"
"Attacks would stop," Harry quipped.
"Stop being so delusional," Ron said, "Of course they'd continue, you're today's target. Tomorrow, it'd be me cause I'm a Weasley, we've been feuding with them since before you were born!"
"Sorry," Harry said, "I might get killed."
"You might, so might I," Ron said, "Don't rush in and volunteer for it! Don't make it easy for them, because we still want you around."
"Why?" Harry asked.
Ron sat up, moved, and knelt to straddle Harry's right arm, knee into the ribs. Ron waited for a moment.
"Doubt you'll ever truly understand family," Ron said, "You've always showered me in friendship, compassion, and understanding. You're a refuge from my brothers. You give without thought of return and reward. It'd tear me up if you had succeeded."
"You're being mushy," Harry said.
"So deny this talk to Hermione," Ron said, "It's just… you're the twin I wish I had, I love you."
Harry snorted, sighed. His eyelids began to droop.
"Talk later," Ron said.
Harry's eyes closed, the snores began. Ron pulled the duvet over Harry, and wedged a pillow beneath the raven black hair covered head. Ron left the bedroom, went down the steps.
"Ron baffles me," Hermione said, her voice came from the study, "He's blind as a bat to me, but he's some expert on your issues? I wanted to talk to the bloke—not the first time it's Harry before me. Like it's easy for me to hear about you getting shot at?"
Ron turned into the dining room, the door to the study open. Gia stood on the other side of the leather sofa. Bushy brown hair as Hermione was sitting on it.
"Maybe you're misjudging Ron?" Gia said, "I think his heart's right, trying to explain it to me."
"Maybe Ron could spend time with me?" Hermione said, "We're supposed to be dating!"
"Dunno," Gia said, "Doubt I'd have stuck it out with Harry if it weren't for Ron."
"Still," Hermione said, "When I needed friends—they ran off!"
Ron stepped toward the door of the study.
"Maybe Ron felt Harry needed the help first," Gia said, "In both of your interests?"
"Cursing him sick?" Hermione stammered.
Gia's blue eyes glanced upward, at Ron.
"Speaking of the devil," Gia said, "Ask him yourself."
"Get him to LISTEN!" Hermione snapped.
"I promise to ignore any screams I hear," Gia said, "Go easy, blood on a new floor?"
Gia went around the sofa.
"Good luck," Gia said to Ron.
Ron jumped over the sofa, sat cross–legged, and faced the witch sitting on the other end.
"You," Hermione said.
Ron leaned over, puckered up to kiss, however, got air as she leaned to her right to duck it. Ron returned to sitting, and her eyes focused on him.
"Lemme see." Hermione started to count on her fingers. "Gia gets shot. You curse Harry. See Gia. Consort with Harry. This little piggy gets none."
"Triage, urgency first!" Ron said, "Yes, Gia got shot. Harry… you would've regretted me not doing so. I'm here now."
"Too late," Hermione said, "It isn't the first time I've had to make do with a teddy bear."
"I'm sorry," Ron said.
"Then think of me," Hermione said, "Don't go cursing Harry sick."
"I…I know how to make amends," Ron said.
Ron leaned forward, whispered into her ear.
"You're serious?" Hermione asked.
"Already written a couple of people," Ron said, "I—"
Front door opened, the voices came through.
"You wouldn't believe what happened!" Richard entered the dining room, he turned for the study.
"Entire school on lock down," Jen said, a step behind Richard, "Some accident—"
"It wasn't an accident," Hermione said, "Shooting, hitman barely missed Gia."
"Shit," Richard stammered, "No wonder school's canceled to the end of the week."
"How'd you know?" Jen asked Hermione.
"She's upstairs with Harry," Hermione said.
"A sniper missed?" Richard asked.
"She…" Ron stopped himself, his eyes focused on Hermione's silver ring, his ring on the finger, as his mind worked it out. Pushing on Gia to duck, Harry's protective magic bound to Gia's ring might've been her luck. "She's upstairs, talk to her."
Richard left and Ron stood.
"Excuse me," Ron said to Hermione.
"What's with him?" Jen said, "Why'd you put up with him?"
Ron took a step out of the study into the dining room.
"Good question," Hermione said, "Never had an answer myself."
Ron turned, up steps, returned to Gia's bedroom. Richard nearby. Gia sitting on the bed, coaxing Harry's earlobe.
"He's out," Gia said to Ron.
"Don't leave him alone," Ron said to Gia.
"You're heading out?" Richard asked.
"Had to check in," Ron said, "Later."
Ron went down the steps, pulled out his Portkey, and tapped it. Jerk behind the naval, he landed in Lupin's manor.
"Back already Moony?" asked the voice of Sirius.
Ron crouched as he ducked into the kitchen, waited for those footsteps to come up into the living room. A sniff, Sirius turned around.
"Ron," Sirius said, "You wrote—"
"Yeah," Ron said, pointed.
They went into the living room.
"How's Harry?" Sirius asked.
"You should go and ask him yourself," Ron said.
"He's not interested—" Sirius said.
"Yes he bloody is." Ron leaned back his buttocks rested on the glass windows. "If you were there—you'd sniff out the sniper yourself?"
"Lousy shot?" Sirius asked.
"Know Harry wants to do things himself," Ron said, "I think we need the help."
"What made you change your mind?" asked Lupin as he stepped out of the fireplace.
"My mind has not changed," Ron said, "Harry tried to leave the Wizarding World, it won't let him. At least this contract's over."
"What makes you certain there aren't others?" Lupin asked.
"Oh," Ron muttered.
"Still," Lupin said, "I'll take you up on your invitation."
"Good," Ron stated.
"Padfoot?" Lupin asked.
"Alright!" Sirius said, "Chance for Harry to apologize."
"Best if you let us haggle this out," Lupin said to Ron.
"Mind if I used your fireplace?" Ron asked.
Dumbledore turned as Lupin vanished in a puff of green flame in the fireplace of the Headmaster's office.
"Albus?" asked Professor McGonagall.
"Young Ronald Weasley was prompt in informing me and asked for our assistance," said Dumbledore, "How can I refuse?"
"A month overdue—if I understand it," said Professor McGonagall.
"How right you are," Dumbledore said as Severus Snape entered, "About time."
"Understood," Professor McGonagall said.
"Keep the list short and curated," Dumbledore said, "I will not miss this."
"Headmaster?" Severus Snape said.
"If you excuse me," Professor McGonagall said, "Grading, can't let Oliver Wood have all the fun."
Snape turned his head, his eyes at the witch in green leaving the office, before he returned his gaze to Dumbledore.
"You sent for me?" Snape asked.
"I need you to brew this." Dumbledore slid the sheet of parchment over.
"This is…complex," Snape said, parchment in hand, "At least a month and a half to gather all the ingredients, three to brew."
"I understand the Weasley twins have some of them," Dumbledore said.
"That urgent?" asked Snape.
"I do not expect Harry's predicament to get any easier any time soon."
"Two months if I acquired all the ingredients today and skip the counter potion," Snape said, "Effects could never be reversed without it."
"Afraid we don't have the time to spare," Dumbledore said, "Do it."
"Understood," Snape said.
Snape's robes billowed as he spun; he marched out of the office. Dumbledore turned to the two rolls of parchment, side by side on his desk; copied the note to talk to Snape from the tattered faded one on left to the newer roll on the right, the script identical, the date and time matched.
"Another day," Dumbledore grumbled, "Wish that hat were here."
Purr
Hermione's left fingers flipped the page to another theorem, she was already on the sofa in the living room, her chest above Crookshanks on his back. Her right hand stroked beneath his ear, the tail swayed against her. Clock above the mantle ticked off the seconds of the afternoon, the fireplace warmed her toes first.
"Figured," Ron said as he entered.
Hermione glanced up at Ron, packages, some bore the words of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. Hermione snorted. Ron set the packages down, went to the sofa, laid down on her back side. Ron's hands worked into her shirt, toward her front.
"Don't squish—" Hermione started.
"Crookshanks," Ron said, "Mind if we shared her?"
"I didn't say you could," Hermione said, "If you want to keep your most treasured package, I suggest you get back up."
Ron's feet to the carpet, he leaned forward with his knees against the seat cushion.
"Studying?" Ron asked.
"Geometry," Hermione said, "Gia's textbook."
"It's muggle stuff," Ron said.
"Muggles have brains too," Hermione quipped.
"I—" Ron started.
"Need advice?" Hermione said, "SCRAM! I'm still mad at you."
"Oh," Ron said as he returned to a stand, "I'll go, freeze outside."
"You do that," Hermione said.
Ron went for the door, left the house. Hermione rubbed Crookshanks' belly.
"Sorry about him," Hermione said to Crookshanks, "Ron's really thick and stupid."
Hermione glanced at the exercises, realized she'd need parchment, and stood.
"I'll be back," Hermione promised Crookshanks.
Hermione's toes used to the creak of the steps, went up the stairs. A strong odor curdled her nose as she entered Gia's bedroom. Gia sitting at the desk, working at the homework on top of it. Harry, asleep on the bed, moaned.
"Why?" Hermione asked as she closed the bedroom door.
Harry turned over on the bed, leaned over the pot, and puked.
"Richard's joke gift ages ago," Gia said, "At least somebody's using it."
Harry laid his head back down onto the pillow. Hermione's wand out, aimed at the pot, and her cleaning charm scoured it empty.
"Where's Ron?" Harry asked, his voice warbled.
Hermione sat on the corner of the bed, right leg folded to tuck her ankle beneath her left thigh, that foot on the floor, as she peered at those bottle green eyes. Her fingers traced Harry's toes, felt into the soles of his feet.
"Finding more mischief, I suppose, as he can't seem to find enough," Hermione said, "Cursing you did not earn him any points or favors with me."
"Cursed?" Gia asked.
Hermione turned her head for the blond haired girl, glanced at her blue eyes.
"Ron confessed to it," Hermione said, "I fail to see how it's in Harry's interest. Suppose next thing we know, Ron'll be prescribing Killing Curses for acne."
Harry twitched and scrambled, squatted over the chamber grabbed the can of air freshener and sprayed.
"There's a bathroom." Hermione pointed at the wall.
"Too far," Harry said, "Comes really quick."
Harry finished and dove back onto the bed.
"Ron defies logic and reason," Hermione said.
Gia stood, went for the window.
"Maybe that's why you like him." Gia opened the window, motioned to get the cold winter air in. "Case study that's full of surprises."
"Some surprise," Hermione said, goosebumps on her skin.
Harry groaned.
"It's not a prank of Jelly legs either," Hermione said, "Can't fathom—I'd release if I could."
"Ta," Harry said.
"It's Ron's curse," Hermione said.
Harry leaned over, puked into the chamber pot. Hermione aimed her wand, another cleaning charm. Harry shivered.
"Mind?" Hermione stood, went for the window.
"Spray only covers so much," Gia said.
"Sorry," Harry muttered.
"Not your fault Harry," Hermione said.
Hermione slid the window, left a crack, and squatted. A scan of the book titles, found 101 Things Every House Witch Should Know, and pulled it out. A leaf through the pages, aimed her wand at the chamber pot, and cursed.
"Should be self–cleaning now," Hermione said.
"Ta," Harry muttered.
Harry stood next to the chamber pot, back toward her.
"Doing better than Ron," Harry said.
"Why'd he curse you?" Hermione asked.
"Ask him," Harry replied.
"He's going to get an earful," Hermione promised.
"Do that," Gia said to Hermione.
Harry turned around.
"Your charm works," Harry said.
Harry yawned, climbed back onto the bed, stretched his arms.
"Bit weird," Harry said, "Sleepy but not tired."
"Been doing that for hours," Gia said.
A door slam below. Hermione opened the bedroom door, stopped before the steps down.
"UNFAIR!" Andy shouted, stormed up the stairs.
Hermione took a couple of steps down.
"What'd you want?" Andy pushed Hermione to the side.
"Nothing." Hermione kept going down the stairs.
"Hi," Ron said from a bit outside the still open door, packages in his arms.
Though he was standing in the gloom of the cloudy winter day, Hermione raised her right hand, middle finger extended, and flipped Ron off.
"Enough!" Kristen snapped at Hermione.
Hermione turned, Kristen stood there in her police uniform, the glint of metal insignia affixed to the points of her collar. A hand motion, Ron entered the house, his bare butt pushed the front door closed.
"Can you imagine my day?" Kristen said, "Andrea thinking I'm too distracted to notice her five finger discounts across town? Also, I need to talk to both of you."
"Understood," Hermione said.
"Please help me make sense of this," Kristen said.
Kristen's hand motioned, and she went to sit on one of the sofas. Hermione sat closer to the fireplace on the other sofa, across the coffee table. Ron set his packages down on the coffee table, sat to the far other end of the sofa.
"Everybody at the station's appalled by this," Kristen said, "Still, somebody was willing to pay fifty thousand for her death. And while trying to come up with real leads, we're being badgered by this group calling themselves 'EM' advising that Harry ordered it."
"If they—no," Ron said, "I can tell you EM are a bunch of arseholes, whoever they are."
"I got that part," Kristen said, "She have any enemies you know of? Harry?"
"Death Eaters," Ron said, "Every single one."
"Names," Kristen said.
Ron stood.
"It's not some fabrication!" Ron said, "I'd start with Death Eaters if I were you! But please be careful, they'll kill you on sight."
Ron grabbed his small stack of packages, headed for the study.
"Can you get through to him?" Kristen asked Hermione, "While these Death Eaters—"
"They…have a bone to pick with us." Hermione stood. "Maybe they didn't take out the contract, but they'd definitely be willing to help those who did. If you'll excuse me—I've got an arse to chew out."
Hermione marched to the study, the door shut as her eyes bore down on Ron, him sitting on the dark brown leather sofa within.
"Can I interest—?" Ron started.
"Your todger ain't getting you out of this mess," Hermione said, "You cursed your supposed best friend!"
"You'd be cursing if I hadn't!" Ron snapped as he stood, his eyes glared at her, as if he was peering into her soul. "Maybe you're right, we oughta call it quits!"
"Didn't mean—" Hermione stammered.
"Anywhere else would be better," Ron said, "Bye."
Ron left. Hermione turned to the potted fern.
"I don't get him," Hermione muttered to the disinterested green strand with green twigs of leaf to either side.
"Don't work your knickers into a knot over him," Gia said.
"Not wearing knickers," Hermione said.
"Still," Gia said, "Less flinching and I wouldn't have remembered"
"Guess there was that," Hermione muttered.
"As dumb as it was," Gia said, "Ron did help."
"He cursed—" Hermione started.
"He distracted," Gia said, "Spent all day worrying about Harry, not some stupid contract over my head."
"Guess there's that," Hermione said, "Have to admit, me too."
"Ron volunteered to take the blame," Gia said, "Maybe tomorrow we'll worry about somebody wanting me dead."
"Still not sleeping with Ron, not tonight," Hermione said.
"Fair," Gia said.
"Can we switch boyfriends?" Hermione said, "Ron's more your type."
A snort.
"Save a serving for me and I'll let you sleep with Harry tonight," Gia offered.
Hermione ladled out two helpings of chowder into two bowls on a rubberized plastic bag. Added tea bags to two cups, poured in the hot water.
"I can always sleep with Harry," Hermione countered.
"See?" Gia quipped.
Spoons, a pile of saltine crackers, Hermione carried the tray out of the kitchen, into the living room.
"For Harry," Hermione said to Kristen.
"Boys first," Gia said to Kristen.
Gia sat down across from Kristen, while Hermione went up the stairs. Across the upper landing, into the bedroom.
"Oh?" Harry asked, sitting up.
Hermione set the tray between them, sat cross–legged herself.
"With your day," Hermione said, "I figured you needed a refill."
Harry snorted, grinned. His bottle green eyes beneath that raven black hair returned the stare. His fingers trembled as he lifted the bowl, he brought a spoon to it.
"Give Ron a break," Harry said.
"He…he cursed you," Hermione said.
"I…needed it," Harry said.
"He assaulted you," Hermione said.
"And I hit him back," Harry said.
"Curse?" Hermione asked.
"Mostly gone," Harry said, "Eat."
Hermione lifted her bowl, ate at the white chowder with her spoon. Harry put his spoon down, slurped at his bowl.
"You're being an animal," Hermione said.
"I know," Harry said.
Hermione simply watched the smile on his face, wondered if she ought to do as he suggested, forgive Ron. Still, she'd have to wait.
Date: Fri Jul 28 22:04:13 2023