In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 13: Thump
Gusts blew Harry side to side, he entered through the window into the sixth year boys dormitory. Water dripped from every part of Harry, he dropped his soaked Quidditch robes to the floor. Ron watched Harry enter the other shower stall.
"I tried talking Hermione into here," Ron said, beneath the hot pouring water, "She didn't see the point as she wasn't wet."
"Try talking her into the Prefect's bathroom," Harry said.
"We're not Prefects," Ron said.
"So?" Harry said, "Borrow the map if you have to."
"Maybe after practice tomorrow," Ron said.
"I'll be skipping it," Harry said.
"Practice is in the morning," Ron said.
"Don't pull a Wood," Harry said, "Gia kinda got spooked, so I need to charm her, so it's a date tonight and more fun over for the weekend."
"You know the rules," Ron said, "It's not supposed to interfere with your studies."
"And you heard Madam Pomfrey," Harry said, "I'm not supposed to be practicing Quidditch until Monday."
"Think we need a talk with Dumbledore on this," Ron said, walking to leave the shower. Harry followed.
"Like that?" Harry asked as Ron reached for the door, "Besides, he'd be on board with this; McGonagall too."
"You've included her on this?" Ron asked.
Harry pushed Ron against the wall, leaned in close.
"Dumbledore is dying," Harry whispered.
"What?!" Ron stammered.
"Don't tell Hermione, not yet," Harry whispered, "Last spring was rough, really rough; the old man has a year, maybe three."
"Have they consulted—how can they be certain?" Ron replied.
"Dumbledore accepts his fate, wants to focus his efforts on the fight," Harry replied, "Professor McGonagall is effectively Headmistress, though Dumbledore is retaining the title until the end."
"What if, what if Dumbledore goes first?" Ron asked.
"Don't think about it," Harry said, "Anyways, I have to dash."
Harry went over to his trunk, fingered his Portkey, and activated it. Harry landed in Gia's bedroom; the bed was empty, though a bottle green dress laid on it. Harry went out of the bedroom, went to Richard's bedroom, where Jen was inking bit of pastel orange to the canvas.
"Gia's in the basement," Jen said.
"Ta," Harry said.
Harry went down the steps, found Snuffles laying in front of the fireplace. Harry squatted, petted the ears, belly. Snuffles yipped.
"Gia and I'll be going out," Harry said, "There's a show in London she wants to see."
Harry stood up, went down the next flight of steps, into the laundry room where Gia was busy with the sewing machine. A nice pair of jet black tuxedo trousers were on it, as she stitched. Harry leaned over from her backside, slid his hands down her chest, felt the knockers.
"Do you mind?" Gia said, "I need to concentrate on these alterations."
"What's wrong with them?" Harry said, "They fit alright…wish they were like Madam Malkin's."
"In a way, it will be," Gia said, "It'll be a few more minutes, I still need to iron in the creases."
"Didn't realize you knew how to sew," Harry said.
"I dreaded the lessons Mum taught me, got her to stop them," Gia said, "Wish I hadn't now, but I was young then, just a kid, I didn't realize she'd soon be gone. This is the first time I've used those lessons since she passed."
Harry kissed her on the cheek, left the room, returned back up the stairs, through the living room, and up again. He entered the bedroom; laid his wand onto the bed, and grabbed his wallet from the dresser.
"On second thought," Harry said to Hedwig as he grabbed his wand, "You keep an eye on this." Harry went to her perch, shoved the wand into the hiding place, the branch was hollow and his wand fit snugly within.
Harry sat on the bed. He'd rather go starkers with her, than do anything else, however, they were heading to London. Harry didn't want trouble in London, not when he was a student at Hogwarts, and would be expected to be staying in Scotland, if he were an ordinary student, but unfortunately, he wasn't ordinary.
"Ready?" Gia asked, coming into the bedroom, "Try these on." She handed over the hanger holding his tuxedo.
Harry put the tuxedo on, while Gia put the bottle green dress on.
"You're looking good," Gia said as she attached an bottle green clip–on bow tie to Harry's shirt.
Harry realized that Gia wanted them to match, his tie to her dress.
"Ready?" Harry asked as he put on the jacket over his shirt.
"Shoes," Gia said.
Harry put on black socks, and the polished black shoes; he put his wallet into his jacket pocket, put the top hat onto his head, and they went out of the bedroom.
"Can I see?" Jen asked.
Harry and Gia went into the bedroom. Harry adjusted his cuffs, while Jen checked them out. Gia stood there, with the low cut to her strapless dress.
"It's deliberate," Gia said.
"I figured that," Jen said, "Have fun."
Harry and Gia went out, down the steps, and left the house.
"Can we skip to the end?" Harry asked.
"Where's the fun in that?" Gia asked.
They came to the station for the express train, went onto the northbound platform. They stood. The train arrived, came to a stop, and they and Gia found a pair of seats that faced each other without a table; he sat and leaned back.
"Don't toss," Gia said to Harry.
Harry sat up.
"Just do it here," Harry said.
"No," Gia said, "I want us to act civilized until the end."
"Torture," Harry said.
Gia moved, sat next to Harry, the brim of his hat bumped against her head. Her fingers tickled his crotch.
"I matched your eyes because that's the color I see every time I look at you," Gia said, "I want you to be tempted."
"You're tormenting Harry," Harry said.
"You hate it?" Gia asked.
"No, no!" Harry said, "Just get up on the seat a bit more."
"The end!" Gia said, "At the end of the night, because you'll get wrinkles into that tuxedo!"
"Oh," Harry muttered.
Gia snickered. "You're funny." Gia leaned over, kissed Harry on the cheek. "I just need the night, alright?"
Meanwhile, Ron loitered in the dormitory after Harry vanished. He had questions for Professor Dumbledore, but Ron wasn't certain how to bring it up, because starting off with the terminal prognosis wasn't a very good way to start any conversation. Sure, Ron knew that Dumbledore was old, over a hundred fifty,[1] however, the mere thought that Dumbledore would die had seem abstract, but now, its more certain to be now, not some far distant future.
"You're naked Weasley!" Seamus shouted as the door opened.
"Can't figure that out for myself," Ron retorted, "Piss off!"
"Fred said you knew the way to sneak out of the castle," Ginny said, following Seamus into the room, "I wanted some Butterbeer."
"Firewhiskey," Seamus said.
"Like I was even planning to get dressed," Ron said, irritated.
"Oh, her," Seamus said, "Assuming she's not too busy, seen her with a couple of first years."
"Likely tutoring," Ron said. He hadn't really thought about it, but Hermione would be one to tutor.
"As she tutors you, I'm sure," Seamus said.
"Please," Ginny said, "It's a weekend, some butterbeer would be great!"
"Look, do this and…" Seamus thought for a moment. "We'll clear out the common room, after curfew, so you and her can do whatever, uninterrupted, by the fireplace. Guess you like the heat."
"You should try it," Ginny said to Seamus.
"You'll clear it out?" Ron asked.
"Yeah," Seamus said.
"Okay," Ron said, "You two are coming with me, so I don't have to haul it all back myself."
Ron found his T–shirt and plaid overshirt; put those on. Ginny and Seamus watched as Ron pulled his boxers over his left foot.
"Hold," Seamus said, "Ginny, see it?"
"I've seen his todger more times than I'd like!" Ginny said.
"It gets the job done," Ron said, pulling the boxers up. He found the blue jeans in his trunk, put those on. Socks and shoes, Ron grabbed his backpack before he went over to Harry's trunk.
"Doubling up on Harry's clothes?" Seamus asked.
"No, family secret," Ginny said, pushing in next to Ron as he pulled out the piece of parchment, "That's a family heirloom."
"If it's anybody's family heirloom, it's Harry's," Ron said, "If anything, Fred and George returned it to its rightful heir."
Ron took out his wand, held it to the map.
"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good!" Ron exclaimed.
"Watch out for Professor Snape." Ginny pointed to where Professor Snape was in relation to the statue of the one eyed witch.
"You two plotting?" Seamus asked.
"Yes," Ron said, turning around.
Ron's sneakers hit the floor as he walked out of the dormitory, clutching the map. Ginny and Seamus followed, out of Gryffindor Tower, down flights of stairs, until they came to a short ways away from the one eyed witch. Professor Snape was still paroling.
"Remember, Firewhiskey!" Seamus said to Ron. Seamus walked fast before he broke into a run.
"Stop!" Professor Snape barked as Seamus ran past. Professor Snape chased after Seamus, wand drawn.
Ginny and Ron moved to the statue, consulted the map, and whispered the password. The statue moved and they went in.
"Harry should have come with us," Ginny said.
"Why?" Ron said, "It's not like he's wanting Butterbeer or Firewhiskey right now."
"Where is he?" Ginny asked.
"He's…busy," Ron replied as they made their way toward Honeydukes.
"Where'd you get that?" Ron asked a bit later as Ginny handed over Galleons to Madam Rosmerta in The Three Broomsticks.
"You'd expect me to work in Fred and George's shop for nothing?" Ginny said, "They paid me. Besides, the Firewhiskey money came from Seamus."
Quickly, they shuffled the beverages, including the cases of Firewhiskey, into the backpack; and they returned to Honeydukes. Ginny loaded up with treats, and they slipped back into the basement, into the passageway, and headed back to the castle. Ron took out the map, and they saw Seamus leaving Professor Snape's office in the dungeon. Ginny tapped the back of the statue, they got out onto the third floor corridor.
"Dare I ask why you need a backpack Mr. Weasley?" Professor Lupin asked.
"No," Ron said.
"Good," Professor Lupin said.
"Just a few supplies for tomorrow's Quidditch practice," Ron said.
"Dedication is good in a Quidditch Captain," Professor Lupin said, "Behave."
Professor Lupin left.
"He's onto you," Ginny said.
"And he decided to leave it be," Ron said.
Ginny and Ron returned to the Gryffindor Tower.
"Got it?" Seamus asked, catching up to pass through the portrait hole just after Ron and Ginny.
"How bad was it?" Ginny asked.
"Ten points and a detention," Seamus said, "Best be worth it."
Ron placed his backpack on the table next to where Hermione was sitting.
"You did, didn't you!" Hermione said to Ron.
"They asked," Ron said, "Lets have some fun."
"Hmph!" Hermione sputtered.
Seamus, though, pulled out the top case of Firewhiskey, set it onto the table. Hermione glared at Ron, gathered her things.
"You're welcome in on the fun too," Seamus said to Hermione.
"I can only imagine what that'll be," Hermione said.
Seamus, though, grabbed the case of Firewhiskey.
"Join us," Seamus said to Ron.
"I'll see you later," Ron said to Hermione, "Bedtime?"
Hermione grinned.
Ron followed Seamus, up the stairs, into the sixth year boys' dormitory. Inside were Neville, Dean, and Ernie Macmillan.
"He's Hufflepuff," Ron said.
"I invited him," Seamus said, "Besides, I figured Harry is being Harry, hiding wherever he likes to hide. Where is he?"
"Busy, I suppose," Ron replied, knowing he couldn't divulge that Harry's with his girlfriend.
Seamus pulled out the rest of the cases of Firewhiskey, stacking them in two stacks of five each.
"Okay, the game is called Truth or Dare," Seamus said, holding a bottle.
"You're stocked up," Ernie said.
"Yeah, not planning on ten tonight," Seamus said, "A case at most." He popped the top. "One swig, each." Seamus took a chug, passed the bottle to Dean.
They played, laughed, and were merry for the evening. Ron stumbled down the stairs and up to the girls. He entered, the dormitory was empty. He tripped, fell onto the floor next to Hermione's bunk, and went to sleep.
Rumble! Rumble! Rumble!
"Harry," came Gia's voice the next morning.
Harry woke and realized their predicament. They were both laying on the cement as people were stepping over them. A delivery truck went by, only several feet on the other side of the metal railing, separating them from the road. Harry realized that he was in just his briefs as he sat up, Gia also in her knickers, and both on the little pedestrian island for the crossing at the intersection in the middle of the A1 highway, traffic alternated between the two sides. Wisps of clouds drifted above, while more pedestrians came by, an older man threw a coin at them, it landed in a takeout plastic cup, which was on the ground nearby.
"How did we get here?" Harry asked.
"Umm…" Gia said, "I don't remember, we're definitely not home."
"Feeling alright?" Harry asked as he stood up.
"Bit cold, otherwise okay," Gia replied.
Harry grabbed the plastic cup.
"Don't you have your thing?" Gia asked.
"No," Harry said, "Left those at home, didn't think we'd need them. We've got…not enough."
Harry and Gia moved in with the flow of pedestrians, crossed from the small island to the sidewalk. Gia grabbed the cup, glanced at the change.
"I think there's enough for breakfast," Gia said.
"We need to get home," Harry said. A thought came to him, it was London, but he didn't want to go to the Leaky Cauldron and advertise that Harry Potter was away from Hogwarts.
"Breakfast first," Gia said, "As a girl—I can get us train fare, I just need to ask. You certainly like me." She glanced at the tent pole of his briefs.
"Yeah," Harry said.
Gia pulled on his waistband, Harry followed her tugs. She led the way, along the street."Funny name you gave me last night, on stage," Harry said.
"Unless you want me blabbing Harry Potter—" Gia said.
"No," Harry said.
"Then you need a nickname," Gia said, "I had no time to think, so that's the first one that came to me."
"It's alright," Harry said, "Take a bit to grow on me."
"Lets get breakfast," Gia said, "I'm hungry and you need—let you play as we eat."
Harry walked alongside Gia as they continued; her left hand stayed curled around his erection, but his bollocks swung as they moved, until they came a small cafe near London Tower. Gia pulled Harry in.
"Not hungry," Harry grumbled.
"I want you around as long as possible, we're eating," Gia said. She went to the counter, ordered, and handed over the cup of change to the lady behind the counter. "Off to a rough start this morning."
Gia brought Harry over to a table, near the corner. Gia sat on the table. Harry pushed her legs up and apart, until her feet were on the edge. He reached for the apex in her panties\His exposed glans came close to her vagina, his fingers massaged around it.
"No, not yet," Gia said.
"Oh…" Harry groaned.
"I want the chase, the tease," Gia said.
Gia moved back a bit as the lady brought over the tray, set the full English breakfast down right between Gia's spread legs. Gia pointed to Harry, he sat on the seat right in front of her.
"Eat," Gia said, "Got you a nice appetizer."
Harry studied the protruding camel toe.
"You like doing this," Harry said.
"Are you eating?" Gia said, "Here, try this." She grabbed a sausage, rolled it between her fingers for a moment, before bringing it close to her panties. "Interested?"
Harry reached, Gia slapped the hand.
"Eat it," Gia ordered.
Harry leaned forward, his mouth began to bite down on the sausage that was still in the air. Harry crawled on his hands and knees, on the table, the plate beneath him.
"We'll always eat like this?" Harry asked.
Gia brought him back down to sit on the chair, she tried to share it with him.
"I shouldn't have to beg in order for you to eat," Gia said, "Though I'm certainly willing to make it fun."
Harry grinned.
"Besides, we could only afford the one," Gia said, "It'll have to last until we get home or beg. Here."
Gia grabbed a spoon, loaded it with the baked beans, and brought it up to Harry's mouth. He ate. She took a second scoop, at it herself. A fork divided the rest of the eggs.
"You're trying to fatten me up," Harry said.
"A bit," Gia said, "Not a lot, a bit of fat to cushion."
"Hmph," Harry said.
"You're not talking me into pouring the orange juice into my kitty," Gia said, as she handed him the cup, "Drink up, helps keep your piss yellow."
Harry drank a sip, before Gia shoved a strip of toast into his mouth. He ate, and before he had finished, Gia had another strip near his mouth.
"Full," Harry said as he took a gulp from the orange juice.
"And yes, it's totally selfish," Gia said, "Totally selfish to want you fed to be healthy and strong." She ran her right fingers down the middle of his chest, tickling as she dragged them along, around his naval, down the trail to the bulge in his briefs. "Very selfish to want to keep you as long as I can." She leaned in, kissed him on the lips.
"Feels forced," Harry said.
"Would you have bothered with breakfast if I hadn't?" Gia said, "Hope you understand—I love you, so that means, yeah, I'll push you when you need it."
Gia finished the the beans, the toast, and the rest of the breakfast.
Burp!
Harry grinned. Gia grabbed the empty plastic cup.
"Nothing left," Gia said.
"Told you, train fare—" Harry started.
"Couldn't have you hungry as we're running around—" Gia started.
"Running! Of course," Harry said, "Done?"
"Suppose so," Gia said.
Harry stood, tugged on her wrist.
"I don't get it," Gia said as Harry moved fast out of the cafe.
"Lets move," Harry said, "It's a way out of this."
Ron woke with the sorest of headaches; he was on the floor next to Hermione's empty four poster bed.
"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked.
"How the fuck would I know?" Parvati retorted.
"Fine," Ron said.
Ron left the girls dormitory and went up the stairs to the boys dormitory.
"Did I really—?" Neville started to mumble as Ron entered.
"It was awkward, different," Ron said, "Think nothing of it." Ron moaned as the headache came back, extra strong intensity. "Maybe ask Madam Pomfrey—"
"We'd get suspended," Neville replied.
Ron glanced at the cases of Firewhiskey still beneath Seamus' bed. Quickly, Ron dressed in a plaid overshirt and blue denim trousers, walked out of the room. Neville walked with him.
"Can you walk quietly?" Ron asked.
"I'm trying," Neville replied.
They entered the Great Hall.
"Where's Hermione?" Ron said, "Normally she'd be here."
"Keep it down," Neville muttered.
They walked over to the Gryffindor table, sat next to Dean and Seamus. Ernie came over.
"About last night," Ernie said, "I'm only going to say this once: it never happened."
"Second," Dean said.
"Motion passed," Seamus grumbled.
Ron ate his breakfast, left. He went to the Library, which was empty of Hermione. He began to enter each and every girls lavatories, stopped in the second floor.
"Hello, where's Harry?" Myrtle asked.
"Busy," Ron said, not really knowing, but did know that Harry and Gia always managed to keep themselves entertained together.
Harry and Gia crossed the Southwark Bridge over the Thames River.
"Which way to the Globe Theater?" Harry asked Gia.
"Is that where we're going?" Gia replied.
"Richard mentioned it," Harry said, "Figured it'd be worth a try."
Gia had them turn sharply on the south, took the stairs down to the path next to the river, turned left.
"Old building no longer stands," Gia said, "It's being reconstructed, so it's not open."
"I didn't think to ask him yesterday as I wasn't planning on this," Harry said, "Still, he said he'd be here."
"Oh," Gia said, "Alright."
They came to the large fence, a table on the stones right in front, with a sign Bard's Run; to either side, a crowd of adults from young to old, men and women, all scantily clad in underwear.
"Fill and sign here," the eighteen year old, bare chested, sitting next to the table in a pair of white briefs, said as he handed Harry a clipboard.
"What's this?" Gia asked.
"Standard release of liability," the man said, "You're here for the race, right?"
"What race?" Gia asked.
"The race, celebrating the morning after a Bard's stellar performance," the man said, "When they get caught in the bed of a fan, but that fan's husband and brothers, and you're having run like mad."
"Go ahead," said the familiar voice, "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Richard!" Gia exclaimed.
Harry decided against using his real name, instead, used the one Gia had given him, signed it Sparky, filled in the description to his underwear. Harry turned, Richard was there; wearing just the familiar blue and green plaid boxers.
"Hi," Harry said, "Bit relieved seeing you here."
"Are you going to run?" Richard asked Gia.
"No," Gia replied.
"Come to watch?" Jen asked. Jen was fully dressed, with a T–shirt and blue jeans.
They moved in the small crowd; a man in a fedora stood a few yards away, camera in hand, with the camera strap that read Daily Telegraph. Richard turned around, butt toward the camera.
"We didn't exactly volunteer," Harry said, "More like an accident, we came to London last night."
"And came home, right?" Richard said, "How else did your tuxedo make it onto your bed?"
"It's there?" Harry stammered.
"Yeah, I mean—" Richard started.
"We never made it home," Harry said, "We woke up in the middle of the A1."
Richard grunted for a moment.
"We don't have our clothes," Gia said, "Mind helping us get home?"
"Sure, after the run," Richard said.
Harry's eyes darted, the underwear seemed to be the uniform to the participants.
"Take it your Mum doesn't know," Harry said.
"She knows I'm in a race, I didn't elaborate," Richard said, "Ready?"
"I'll be fine," Gia said to Harry.
Jen and Gia walked back, as Harry and Richard joined the crowd.
"You certainly dressed the part," Richard said.
"Don't ask me why my tuxedo made it home without me," Harry said, "You're sure—?"
"It was on your bed!" Richard said, "Mum's talked about the tales from the drunks—yours takes the cake."
"We weren't drunk," Harry said.
"Didn't mean to imply that," Richard said.
"Greetings and welcome to the Bard's Run!" came the shouts from a man, standing on the railing to the Thames, small megaphone in hand, dressed with a nightgown, boxers, and bunny slippers. "You've just been caught in bed, make your escape!"
Pop!
Some cameras to the side took pictures as the crowd of several hundred began to move. The bloke from the Daily Telegraph took several of Harry. Harry's arms moved, controlled, while his buttocks flexed, and a couple of ladies behind him whistled.
"They definitely like you," Richard said.
"Figure?" Harry said, "Gotta be my feet."
"Yeah, right," Richard said as he gave Harry a quick glance over.
Harry's thighs kept flexing, his back held up.
"My, you're really in trouble, aren't you?" asked a mid–twenties lady to Harry's left.
Harry glanced to his left at the brunette, about his height, and with tan lines around her white panties and bra which hinted at much sun in a two piece bikini.
"If I'm caught in bed, then I was caught," Harry replied.
This girl kept pace with Harry, kept glancing at him as they both ran. Richard adjusted his boxers.
Ron made it down to the dungeons; and even though it was unlikely, he figured it was worth the shot. He approached the girls bathroom when the greasy voice called out.
"Weasley!"
Ron turned, Professor Snape was coming up from behind.
"You have no business in the dungeons," Professor Snape sneered, "Twenty points unless—"
"Kitchens," Ron blurted, "Going to visit an Elf."
"Pathetic," Professor Snape sneered, "Move along."
Professor Snape followed Ron to the kitchens; where Ron entered.
"Dobby is happy to serve friend of Harry Potter!" Dobby said.
"Trying to find Hermione—" Ron started.
"Weasley needs this!" Dobby snapped his fingers, a picnic basket appeared, and handed it over to Ron.
"I meant she's missing," Ron said.
"Weasley will find her heart," Dobby said.
Frustrated, Ron left the kitchens with the picnic basket in hand. Ron bemused that Dobby could find Harry faster, when the thought of Harry came back to Ron's mind, the map! Ron ran back up the stairs, climbing fast, went into the Gryffindor Tower, up the stairs, into his dormitory, crossed over to Harry's trunk, and opened it. He took out the map, activated it, and began to scan, searching all the names moving around.
"Find me Hermione Granger," Ron said to the map.
It scrolled to the edge, the edge of the Forbidden Forrest, but no further.
"Of course!" Ron exclaimed.
Ron reached, grabbed his cloak hanging nearby, before his feet moved quick, he ran back down the stairs. He left the castle into the overcast day, a bit nippy but bearable. Ron went fast, across the grounds, to the treeline, walked along the trees until he found the familiar rock, and turned inward. Ron gripped his wand, had it at the ready, as he treaded carefully along the lightly worn path; the crush of red and yellow leaves under his footsteps complimented the music of the birds. Ron turned at the large stump, ducked beneath the vines, and pushed through the bushes, to come to the huddled mass sitting near the tranquil clear water of the modest pond.
Red sullen eyes around the brown, bushy eyebrows and hair, Ron recognized Hermione, starkers as she sat there, on the old wool blanket, her right leg up. Hermione, though, did not look up, kept her chin on her raised knee, an occasional whimper accompanied the tears flowing down her face. Ron knelt and felt her cold skin, noted that she was not shivering.
"Haven't you done enough?" Hermione snapped.
"Wha—at—?" Ron stammered, "I'm sorry."
"Like an apology will fix things," Hermione said.
"I missed you and when you didn't show up to breakfast, I went looking," Ron said as he sat, "Took a while to find you."
Hermione grunted.
"Here," Ron said, bringing his cloak around her back, "I am sorry."
"For what?" Hermione asked.
"You're obviously upset," Ron said, "Dunno why, but you're upset, and cold."
Ron opened the picnic basket, there was a heated blanket on top, and he pulled this out, rested on Hermione's lap. He stripped starkers, pulled the blanket over them both.
"Thinking with your todger again," Hermione said.
"Don't dis it," Ron said, "It's telling me you're pretty, you're beautiful. It's reminding me that I do love you. It persuaded me to come and find you. Even without it, I do know you're my friend."
"Thank you," Hermione said, "It wasn't you, not directly."
Ron wrapped his arm around her back, held her right shoulder, felt the skin warming up.
"Too promiscuous," Hermione retorted.
"Oh?" Ron muttered as his arm retreated.
"Sorry," Hermione replied.
Hermione began to shiver. Ron moved backward fast, his right leg moved to the other side of Hermione, and moved forward. Ron's arms reached beneath the blanket, pulled her tightly to him, her back against his chest.
"Good enough to get to Madam Pomfrey?" Ron asked.
"Nothing she can do," Hermione said, "I thought I didn't want to feel again."
"Then what did happen?" Ron asked.
"If a boy, like you, sleeps around, chalking up girls like a Quidditch score, you're marked a hero, a stud," Hermione said, "If a girl does the same with boys, it's a demerit, a girl's considered a slut, a whore, or desperate."
"You've only slept with me," Ron said, "It happens when we date, that's a good thing."
"You're thinking with your todger again," Hermione said.
"Why argue with my todger?" Ron asked as he leaned in, "It says to love you and cherish you." He kissed her on the neck.
"Have to admit, you really are trying," Hermione replied.
Ron reached into the picnic basket, pulled out a flask, sniffed it to smell the Lady Gray tea, and handed it to Hermione. She sipped it.
"Thank Dobby for it," Ron said.
"It's just with all the rumors," Hermione said, "They ganged up on me—it's not like it was the first time. When I'm not with you, I've woken to mayonnaise smeared condoms being stuffed into my mouth, my shorts, or even littered about the floor around my bed. Parvati's taken to inspecting my knickers on a regular basis. Books go hidden or my pills get confiscated—it's frustrating, because I don't think it's Parvati, or Lavender instigating this, that they're strings are being pulled too. Last night, they gave me an impromptu inspection, threw me out here, like I'm…I'm…trash." She sobbed.
"Me and Harry both see you as a friend, first," Ron said, "You were my friend long before we became lovers."
"I know you care, and Harry does too," Hermione said, "It's just…this makes me want to quit Hogwarts."
"We're going to Madam Pomfrey," Ron stated.
"I meant it!" Hermione quipped, "If it were just this past week, I'd get over it, but thing's have been just happening, you understand? But it's bugs me that I'd be tossing all that studying, all that hard work, over this!"
"Tell you what we'll do," Ron said, "Start by getting you all warmed up."
Ron moved, the charmed blanket enlarged to cover them both as he laid her down onto the ground; he rested himself on top of her, though stayed mostly supported on his hands and knees. Ron smiled as he looked down on Hermione.
"You're just wanting to bang," Hermione said.
"Will it help you warm up?" Ron asked.
"How generous," Hermione snapped.
Ron held her, rolled them both over, and she was laying on top of him, her eyes faced him down.
"Better?" Ron asked.
"Much," Hermione said, sarcastically.
"When we get back, we'll report the assault," Ron promised.
"That'd make things worse," Hermione said.
"Alright, you move into my bed," Ron said, "That way they have to deal with me instead."
"Selfish?" Hermione asked, "Doubt it'd be allowed, I mean, Professor McGonagall's not that thick to not object. Like it'd really help."
"Or I move into yours," Ron said, "You ought to be able to be safe in bed."
"Hogwarts is supposed to be safe," Hermione said, "I shouldn't need a body guard."
"Nor should Harry need armor in the corridors," Ron replied, "But he did. You and me, we both know Hogwarts isn't always safe—never has been, never will. But you, our odds are better if I know you're safe, with me."
"Thank you for volunteering," Hermione said, "Suppose Gia's—?".
"Better believe Harry will make full advantage of the pills," Ron replied.
Harry watched the brunette as she ran between Harry and Richard; the crowd of runners had separated enough that there was clearance in front of them. As they approached neared the next pub, Harry heard the sound.
Click! Click!
Harry had only a couple of seconds to register, the familiar crocodile–skin handbag, the jeweled spectacles, the blond hair, of Rita Skeeter, and her photographer.
"My, my, Harry!" Rita exclaimed.
Harry blushed as he tapped the door handle; and ran as fast as he could. Richard caught up.
"You know her?" Richard asked.
"Yeah," Harry said, "Likely made the paper."
"How much further?" Harry asked.
"We're not even halfway," Richard said, "Dunno, twenty miles."
"Twenty?" Harry said, "How long's the course?"
"It's a marathon," the brunette said.
"Twenty six point two miles," Richard said.
"Gah!" Harry stammered, still, though, he kept running.
"Blimey!" Richard exclaimed, the other strap broke, the pouch swung back and forth.
"Take it off!" the brunette exclaimed.
Neville stood near the shore in the water of the lake, his trousers legs rolled up to clear. Luna sat on the shore, on Neville's shoes, in her opal dress, with a Quibbler upside down in her hands.
"Funny things are supposed to start this year," Luna said, "Dunno what."
"The sea urchin," Neville said, holding a purple one in his hand, "Can be found nearly anywhere where there's water, you know, all the time, so oceans, or lakes. Though you got to be careful, some can be venomous to the touch."
"Hear that?" Luna said, "Merfolk are warning us about the Nargles."
Crunch! Crunch!
Twigs broke beneath the feet as Colin came running, camera swung by his side.
"Neville!" Colin shouted, "Have you seen Harry Potter?"
"No," Neville said, "Why?"
"I mean it," Colin said, "When did you last see him?"
"Yesterday, I think," Neville said.
"Have you seen a Nargle before?" Luna asked Colin.
"No," Colin replied, "Seen Harry?"
"Maybe," Luna said. She held the Quibbler up, on the back, a large drawing with the title Where's Harry?
"Not that—as in Hogwarts!" Colin said, "Neville, Luna, mind helping?"
"I've just about found him," Luna said.
"Is it that urgent?" Neville asked.
"Yes," Colin said, "He's got an appointment."
"Have you tried Ron?" Neville said.
"I've searched for Weasley too, but it's Harry I need," Colin said.
"Alright," Neville said, leaving the lake.
"I'll keep your shoes safe," Luna said.
Neville shook his head, followed Colin.
"Where have you tried searching?" Neville asked.
"Everywhere," Colin said, "The house, Hagrid's, the Library, even the Quidditch Pitch. I even checked the Owlery, his bird's not there."
"Owls do hunt," Neville said.
They entered the courtyard, went through the oak doors, onto the first floor.
"Thank you," Colin said.
"Try the Hospital Wing, he might've shown up," Neville said.
"That's not the appointment I'm talking about," Colin said as they climbed stairs.
"Then what?" Neville asked.
"I setup a fireside chat with Doris Crockford," Colin said, "She needed ask him questions about his girlfriend—"
"He agreed to this?" Neville asked.
"I haven't asked him," Colin said, "Doris needs to get the article ready for Harry Potter Quarterly!"
Neville stopped them both on the third floor.
"Blimey!" Neville said, "Why the fuck didn't you ask?"
"He'd just say No," Colin said, "Figured it'd be better to surprise him."
"Did Harry make you his publicist?" Neville asked.
"No," Colin said, "But the public has a right to know—"
"It's his choice, not yours," Neville said, "I would've expected a Gryffindor…Harry?"
Colin spun, camera up, faced the familiar teenage boy with jet black hair, the scar on the forehead, the round glasses, with the classic black jumper over a blue shirt. One step, two steps, a fist hit Colin's camera, it went to the floor, and the boy stomped on it.
"HARRY!" Colin stammered.
A stomp to Colin's right foot, and Colin howled.
"Harry!" Neville snapped, hands tried to grip the arm.
The boy wrenched until his back was toward Neville, the foot came up backward, smacked Neville in the crotch. Colin tried to hold onto the boy, but the boy punched, Colin fell to the ground, and the boy kicked Colin in the ribs.
"HARRY!" Neville shouted as he tried to tackle the boy.
However, the boy spun around, a wand drawn, a flash of red, and Neville fell. Neville blacked out.
BURP!
Ron held the napkin in front of him.
"Useless," Ron said.
"Just because a savage like yourself doesn't know how to use one, doesn't make it useless," Hermione said.
Ron put it across his nostrils.
Pzzt!
"Gross," Hermione said.
"Had to be done," Ron said, "Feeling better?"
Hermione adjusted the blanket, wrapped around them both.
"Yes," Hermione said, "Thank you for looking out for me, it's appreciated."
They heard the faint two–o–clock chime from Hogwarts. Ron reached for his clothes.
"So soon?" Hermione asked.
"Well," Ron said, "I am Captain of the Quidditch team and we need to practice."
Ron handed her his boxers, his T–shirt, his socks, before he put his trousers and overshirt on.
"Thanks," Hermione said, dryly.
"Like you'd fit my shoes," Ron said, "Use my cloak too, keep people from guessing."
Ron folded the new blanket, put it beneath the log.
"You're not expecting this to happen again?" Hermione asked.
"It helped you out, right?" Ron said, "Help the next person out."
They began to rise, but Ron's hand pushed her, kept them both flat, as the sound of quickly approaching footsteps came to his ears. They laid low, slid beneath the dense brush, where Ron pulled the old blanket over them. From the Hogwarts side came the greasy black haired Professor Snape with his billowing black robes; from the forest side came the short balding Wormtail, his right hand reflected a bit of the sky above. They stopped an arms length apart, Professor Snape's eyes locked onto Wormtail's face, but Wormtail kept trying to duck the stare.
"I am incredibly busy," Professor Snape said.
"Master is no longer interested in Potter—"
"Liar," Professor Snape retorted.
"Do not get me wrong," Wormtail said, "Potter's death would still please him, it is no longer required."
"Potter's habit of sticking his nose where it does not belong—" Professor Snape said.
"Kill him, if you can," Wormtail said, "But you know where the focus must remain."
"Unless you have anything further—" Professor Snape said.
"Master does question your commitment—"
"Has he failed to read the The Daily Prophet?" Professor Snape asked..
"Surely you have opportunities—"
"Without betraying my position?" Snape said, "I have the confidence of the Headmaster—this conversation is terminated."
Snape spun around and walked for the castle. Wormtail transformed and the rat scampered off.
"That was interesting," Hermione said as she crept out of their hiding space.
Hermione brushed the dirt from herself and Ron.
"You're interesting," Ron said, his eyes traced her curves beneath the cloth before she pulled the cloak tight.
"I meant them," Hermione snapped.
"How?" Ron said, "We've always suspected—"
"I don't envy Snape," Hermione said, "Trying to keep his feet on both sides."
"His choice," Ron said, "I know mine."
Ron licked his lips, brought his mouth down toward her neck, but only got air—Hermione had taken a step and kept going. Ron grabbed the picnic basket, caught up, pulled her close as they walked.
"Womanizer," Hermione snapped.
"You're a woman?" Ron said, "Thought you're a girl—"
Hermione lightly jabbed Ron in the stomach. They poked and jabbed as they returned to the castle; entered through the front oak doors. Professor McGonagall came off the marble stairs, stopped them in their tracks.
"Mr. Weasley, Miss. Granger," Professor McGonagall asked, "Where have you been?"
Ron held up the picnic basket and grinned.
"There are rules," Professor McGonagall said, as the cloaked slipped open, the boxers plainly visible on Hermione.
"Sorry," Hermione said, as she cinched the cloak back up.
"And Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Elsewhere," Ron stated.
Professor McGonagall escorted them to the first floor and into her office; she stood behind her desk, faced them.
"Where?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"He went to Noigate yesterday evening," Ron said, "Seemed excited for some date last night, I didn't ask for details."
"Ron—" Hermione muttered to scold.
"Mione," Ron said, "McGonagall knows about the commute."
"That's Professor McGonagall," Professor McGonagall corrected, "Five points."
"Sorry," Ron muttered.
"Why are you so worried?" Hermione asked.
Professor McGonagall maintained her thin mouth and stern look.
"Neville Longbottom and Colin Creevey were found, beaten, on the third floor," McGonagall said, "While they were successfully treated in the Hospital Wing, you can understand our concern. Upon questioning, they were reluctant, tried to find another plausible explanation, but both clearly remembering seeing Mr. Potter as the perpetrator."
"That isn't like Harry," Ron protested, "He'd never do that."
"You loyalty is admirable," Professor McGonagall said, "However, Professor Dumbledore agreed with my assessment; we are certain that Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Creevey were not trying to deceive us with it. To their credit, they were looking for anything to avoid naming Mr. Potter."
"Impostors?" Ron said, "Costumes in Harry's likeness are sold from a store in Diagon Alley, there's even a catalog!"
"Professor Lupin and Professor Tonks combed the spot thoroughly, Madam Pomfrey checked both Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Creevey for clues during her examinations," Professor McGonagall said, "We found no shreds or other evidence of a costume."
"Po—" Ron said.
"Until we ask Harry," Hermione said, "We won't know where he was earlier, for we were otherwise occupied."
"Thank you for your cooperation," Professor McGonagall said, "I will want to speak with Mr. Potter as soon as he is available."
Ron and Hermione left the office; they returned the picnic basket, and went up the many flights of stairs to the seventh floor; entered Gryffindor common room.
"Where's Potter?" Seamus demanded.
"None of your business," Ron said.
"When my friend winds up in the Hospital Wing, it is my business," Seamus said.
"He's unavailable," Ron said.
Ron led Hermione up to the boys' dormitory. Ron removed his clothes, handed them over to Hermione; she put them on while he put on his Quidditch Robes. They left the dormitory, went down the stairs to cross the common room.
"Hey bitch!" Parvati shouted from a table, "Find a different motel, this one's full!"
"This ain't over!" Seamus said to Ron, "I need to teach Potter a lesson!"
"Just tell them where Harry is!" Ginny snapped as she followed Ron and Hermione, with her Cleansweep in her hand.
"No!" Ron said as they left Gryffindor Tower, "Stop demanding!"
"I have a right—" Ginny started.
"No," Ron said, as he glared at her, "You do not have the right to Harry's life—it's HIS!"
"Will he be coming to practice?" Ginny asked.
"How should I know?" Ron said, "Maybe? That's enough on Harry! We've got practice."
Hermione followed.
"What is Harry up to?" Ginny asked.
"Banging!" Ron said, "He's banging his girlfriend, all weekend long! You'd have to be mental to even suggest he'd stop that to beat up Neville and Colin."
"Stop lying Ron!" Ginny said, "He'd have to leave Hogwarts to do that!"
"Please drop it," Hermione said, "Harry's simply unavailable and he certainly wouldn't have done what he's been accused of."
"It's difficult to believe," Ginny replied.
"Hey!" Richard snapped.
The brunette, giggling, took her right hand away from Richard's boxers, while her left reached to grab Harry's briefs.
"Hey!" Harry snapped.
They went down the steps from Waterloo Bridge back to the Thames path, ran along. They passed the signage advertising the future location of the Modern Tate Museum, came to the ribbon marking the finish. The brunette was two steps behind as they crossed the wide chalk line. Harry felt the exhaustion, bent over, massaged his calf muscles.
"I'd love to ring you up," the brunette said, staring right at Harry's butt.
"Everybody loves a rebel Harry," Rita Skeeter said, coming over, "Only thirteen—"
"Thirteen!" the brunette exclaimed, quickly moved away.
"No! No!" Harry protested.
Rita, though, backed Harry against the bulwark separating the path to the Thames. Parchment and a quill came out, the quill began to write.
"When do you plan to tell your Headmaster about your little rule breaking?" Rita asked, her right hand gripped through the cloth onto Harry's stiffy, "Nice thing you've got going on."
"Back away," Harry said.
"Nice advertising," Rita said, her fingers teased, "Think your habitual flaunting the rules led to this little display today?"
"Let go of him!" Richard stammered.
"I'm a reporter Ronald," Rita said, "Now, unless you want your father to become unemployed—"
"Quit—!" Harry started.
"Over here!" Richard barked.
"He's thirteen!" shouted the brunette from earlier.
Several constables approached and witnessed Rita's hand on Harry's tent pole, when she gave one more tease. The short man, nearby, with a camera, took pictures. Harry felt the spasms as his sticky mess seeped into the white cloth.
"Mamm," the first constable said, with authority in his voice, "I need to ask you a few questions."
"I got the answers I needed," Rita said before Harry saw the tip of the wand in her cuff, "Obliviate!"
"Never mind, move along," the man said, before both constables left.
"Now you—" Rita started.
"Stay away!" Harry barked, pointed his finger at her, "I solemnly swear to swat every bug I see!"
"Come," Richard said.
Harry and Richard ran; Jen and Gia followed. They made it to Waterloo station; Richard made for the ticket machine, removed his wallet from Jen's pocket, and punched in.
"I need to use the loo," Jen said as Richard fed a twenty pound note in.
"Wait on it," Richard said as he grabbed the tickets.
They studied the board, made for the platform, and boarded the train. Harry found an open four seater, sat. Gia sat next to him, but against the window, as Richard came down the aisle, leaned in.
"So, who was that chick handling everything?" Gia asked, "Ran with you?"
"Didn't catch her name," Harry said.
"Dunno, it helped me stay running," Richard said, "I guess she liked what she saw."
"Good taste," Gia said.
"Excuse me," Jen said as she came in to sit, facing Harry and Gia.
In the suit of Southern Rail, the ticket inspector came by, Jen handed them over, and they were stamped before the man moved onward.
"Who was that other—lady?" Jen said, "The one that made you—?"
"A reporter," Harry said, "Best not to explain it, but we've crossed paths before."
"Evidently," Jen said.
Harry curled up on the seat, leaned over, put his head in Gia's lap, right ear down. He napped until he felt Gia tugging on him to wake. He was on his back.
"Come on," Richard said.
Harry stood; him and Gia followed Richard, left the train. Harry felt soreness with every step, his muscles protested, as they made their way back to 26 Oak. They entered, went up the stairs.
"Blimey!" Harry muttered as he entered Gia's bedroom. Nicely laid out on her bed, though wrinkled, were Gia's bottle green dress, and his tuxedo including his wallet.
"These are definitely them," Gia said.
"I know," Harry said.
The door closed behind them, Harry turned to see Sirius standing there.
"I wish you had let me know your plans," Sirius said, "I was expecting you back last night!"
"I haven't a clue," Harry said as he pointed to their clothes, "We were planning on coming back, guess we got a bit too tired."
"Your Portkey could've gotten you back," Sirius said.
"It was already here," Harry said, he pointed to Hedwig's perch on top of the bookshelf next to the window, the Hogwarts pin next to it.
"Or, head to the Leaky Cauldron," Sirius said.
"I'm the Harry Potter!" Harry said, "It'd get noticed, and I didn't want to be noticed. If you'll excuse me, I really need that hot tub."
Harry stripped, went through Richard's bedroom, Gia followed. They went out the back sliding glass door, onto the roof. Harry moved the cover. Harry stepped up, in, and the hot water began to soak into him, easing the tension in his muscles. Richard came out a couple of moments later. Gia lifted Harry, slipped beneath him, let his butt rest between her legs, as she began to massage his buttocks. Jen came out.
"Looks inviting," Jen said, "Mind?"
"Sure," Gia said.
Jen slipped in.
"Just didn't understand that copper," Jen said, "One moment, he was about to arrest that woman for child molestation—she said you're thirteen—"
"I'm sixteen!" Harry protested.
"She's quite talented in persuasion," Gia said, "Hopefully, that's that, the end of it."
"Where's Potter?" came the questions as Ron and Hermione entered the Great Hall Sunday morning for breakfast.
"How should I know?" Ron retorted.
"You sleep with him!" came Ernie's reply.
"I slept with Hermione!" Ron snapped.
Hermione glared as they sat.
"Well, it's the truth," Ron said to her, "We're steady, and it's fine."
An owl delivered the Sunday edition of The Daily Prophet to Hermione. She turned to five pages in.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
The Daily Prophet
Potter Alert
A reliable source indicates that Harry Potter was seen in London, participating in something called the Bard's Run, a marathon (twenty six mile run) to satirically commemorate an esteemed muggle profession. However, it is the consensus of the editorial board that this was merely an overenthusiastic fan using attire acquired from Diagon Alley.
Hermione skipped the article written by Rita Skeeter and turned the page. Both pages six and seven were full of photographs. Another flip, and pages eight and nine; again, page ten and eleven.
"Definitely looks like Harry," Hermione said, "All we need to do is—"
"And ruin his life?" Ron said, "No."
"It's the perfect Alibi," Hermione said.
"Of course it is, but he can't use it," Ron said, "I mean, sure, to destroy it, you'd have to be thick enough to swallow codswallop about…'Lemme stop this banging so I can go to Hogwarts and do fist banging!' At the same time, he'd lose his privilege, lose her."
"Then who else?" Hermione said, "Neville and Colin seemed rather confident it was Harry beating them. Too bad Colin's camera was destroyed and the film ruined."
"Yeah, rotten shame," Ron said.
"They fingered Harry, not you," Hermione said.
"Like Harry's going to miss the camera," Ron said, "Besides, that wouldn't last. I figure Colin's getting it repaired or replaced."
"Suppose Witch Weekly might buy it for Colin," Hermione said, "Harry doesn't like them, but they are juicy pictures."
"You like them?" Ron asked.
"I won't deny that," Hermione said, "But I prefer Harry to be in person."
Harry ran through the corridors of Hogwarts, went down the flight of stairs. He was wearing just his white briefs and carried his wand with the pin in his hand. He went along the first floor, entered Professor McGonagall's office. She and Professor Dumbledore were sitting around the round table, a couple of pancakes were on the Headmaster's plate. Syrup dripped onto the fork; a closed The Daily Prophet to the side.
"Attire!" Professor McGonagall scolded Harry.
"Your letter said it was urgent," Harry said, "I came immediately."
"Obviously," Professor McGonagall said.
"Gia and I—what's the matter?" Harry asked.
"Where were you … yesterday?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
"Um…" Harry started.
"This is serious," Professor McGonagall said.
"London," Harry said, "Gia and I…it was supposed to be a Friday date, turned into yesterday too, when we woke up—accidentally ran a marathon. Why?"
"Nothing," Professor Dumbledore said, "Dismissed."
Harry activated his Portkey, vanished.
"Two students assaulted and you lied to Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said.
"He will learn of it…soon enough," Professor Dumbledore said, "These are him."
Professor Dumbledore opened The Daily Prophet, with the full spread of Rita's pictures of Harry.
"What do we tell the students?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"The truth," Professor Dumbledore said, "We are confident…it was not Harry…this is a … school of magic, … other explanations exist."
[1]: Albus Dumbledore was known to be a hundred fifty or so when I first started the story, so it'll remain despite it being shortened in subsequent books and interviews.
Date: Thu Jan 4 09:53:35 2024