In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 62: JFF
Ron stepped closer, Harry's butt went up as he doubled over and vomited. Ron spotted it too, in Kristen's weak flashlight, the pale eyes, the emaciated body, the weakness within the boy he'd known, the handful of maggots that seemed to find enough warmth to survive in the frozen corpse of Justin Finch–Fletchley.
"You know him?" Kristen asked, their breaths billowing out.
"Went to our school," Ron said, his stomach wanting to join Harry's, "Been missing for weeks."
"It's now a crime scene," Kristen said as she pulled out her mobile, "Go home."
Ron grabbed Harry, pulled him back up. Gia and Hermione followed as they returned to the path. Ron's wand came out, lit up the path, as sirens blared from the emergency vehicles converging to where Kristen had remained.
"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed, "Never thought…"
"We'll get blamed," Harry said.
"You had nothing to do with that," Gia said.
"Truth doesn't matter to them," Harry said.
"Wish I could argue otherwise," Hermione quipped.
They made it back to 26 Oak Street. Ron followed Harry inside, up the roughly boarded steps, into Gia's bedroom. Harry wrote onto parchment, signed, before he rolled it up and attached it to Hedwig's leg.
"Good girl," Harry said to Hedwig, as she took off.
Harry stepped up on the bookshelf and jumped. Ron scrambled up, through the window, pinned Harry to the bush below. Ron's gaze was on those bottle green eyes, eyes that couldn't hide the self–loathing, the self–hatred behind them.
"He died because of me!" Harry said.
"Wasn't your knife, was it?" Ron asked.
"May as well have been," Harry said, "Couldn't get me, so they grab him because Justin testified against us!"
"Trust Kristen to do her job," Ron said, "Muggles will want answers and she appears to be decent, right?"
"Guess so," Harry said.
"Should also know, it takes a higher jump to kill a wizard," Ron said as he stood, "Easier ways to scratch your back."
Harry snorted, accepted Ron's hand, and stood with Ron on the icy grass. They walked around the house, over the ruts, past the boarded up wall of the study, and back in through the green door in the orange firebrick. Back up the stairs, Harry dove onto Gia's bed, buried his face into a pillow. Ron knelt, massaged a bit into Harry's back.
"Would a spanking help?" Ron asked.
"No," Harry muttered.
"Tea?" Ron asked.
Ron waited a moment, went out the bedroom door, and down the stairs. He heard the spoon stirring against a mug from the kitchen.
"But which Death Eater?" Hermione asked.
Ron entered the kitchen, Hermione leaning against the sink, Gia against the counter next to the stove. Gia added sugar into her cup, stirred, and held it between her hands in front of her.
"How many are there?" Gia asked.
An urge, and Ron reached around Gia, hugged. Ron turned, hugged Hermione, heard the grunt.
"Love you," Ron said to her before he let up.
Gia snorted as Ron put herbal tea bags into a couple of cups.
"Hundreds, thousands, during the first war," Hermione said, as Ron poured the hot water into the cups, "And many more who cowered, aiding because they wanted favor regardless of the victor. While they are hierarchical overall, it was tough to crack because groups were their own cells, leading to chaos and the desire to replace one another."
"One might be able to trust their friends," Ron said, "Nobody else."
"And threats leveled during a kidnapping have no teeth if victims never end up dead," Hermione said.
"Why stab?" Gia asked.
"Gruesome and undignified for our kind," Ron said as he put two biscuits on a tray with the tea cups.
Ron carried the tray through the living room. Ron heard soft moaning as he climbed the stairs, realized it was coming from the bedroom, so he reached, pressed the switch to shutter the light on the upper landing. Ron's toe pushed the door open, spotted Harry sitting on the edge of the bed, next to the shelves.
"Crucio!" Harry muttered, wand aimed at himself.
Ron watched as Harry twitched, the wand dropped to the floor. Harry cradled bits as he fell backward onto the bed. He focused on the ceiling as he moaned.
"Rather I crucify your bollocks?" Ron asked as he set the tray down.
"I didn't," Harry protested, splayed out on the bed.
"Tea and biscuits help," Ron said.
"Does it help Justin?" Harry asked.
"You're the one I can help," Ron said.
Dumbledore couldn't stop the one tear that traveled down his face as he read Harry's short letter, early Friday morning. Grim news always hurt, especially when it involved youngsters under a hundred twenty, so much potential life that's eviscerated in the blink of an eye. Dumbledore grabbed an owl treat from his desk, handed it to Hedwig.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said to the bird, "I'll be sending a reply."
Dumbledore took his quill to the parchment, the simple act of writing let him regain his composure.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Harry,
I appreciate the prompt notification, thank you.
Albus Dumbledore
Dumbledore used the pen knife, cut it down to size, and attached it to Hedwig's leg.
"Good girl," Dumbledore said, a stroke of her feathers.
Hedwig hopped, her wings stretched, and she flew.
"Albus," said Minerva McGonagall as she entered the office, in her night robes, accompanied by Pomona Sprout.
"Justin Finch–Fletchley's body has been discovered," Dumbledore stated.
Sprout held onto Minerva, took a moment to borrow the shoulder.
"Might I inquire to the cause?" McGonagall asked.
"He did not elaborate," Dumbledore said, "I'll inform the students … give them several more hours of sleep before I must disturb their dreams."
Gia passed Ron as she stepped out of the bathtub, he got in and went beneath the water showering down. She began to dress herself.
"Time for you to head out?" Ron asked.
"Yep," Gia said, "Think Harry mind if I slipped out by myself?"
"Wake him," Ron instructed.
"I want to let him sleep," Gia said, rubbing the gold ring on her finger, Harry's ring.
"He'd be pissed," Ron replied.
"Justin was a friend?" Gia asked as she finished getting dressed.
Ron grabbed a towel after he turned off the shower, stepped out.
"Classmate," Ron said, "But the message was clear. Harry's impostor abducted Justin, killed Justin, and dropped the body here. We're not as safe here as Harry'd like to pretend."
"You do care about him," Gia said.
"Absolutely," Ron said, "Parents come and go, but siblings and friends are for life."
Socks to her feet, Gia left the bathroom, turned the sharp left into her bedroom. On the bed, Hermione was curled on her side next to the window. Harry on his side next to the side where Gia standing. Gia pushed on Harry, waited a moment, pushed again, until a bit of flutter came to the eyelids over those bottle green eyes.
"Harry," Gia said, "Harry!"
"Huh?" Harry grumbled.
"School," Gia said as she stepped into her shoes.
"Run…" Harry muttered.
"Richard already ran," Gia said.
Gia didn't like disturbing Harry, she'd gotten so used to Sirius tagging along she hadn't considered the burden, one she'd accuse a normal boyfriend of being overly protective. However, she understood that Harry wasn't as normal as he wish he was, that it made her a mark, and thus it was unwise for her to travel, alone. She watched Harry's butt move as he rolled off the bed, his todger dangled as he stood. Her eyes latched onto his arching eyebrows.
"If it's too much—" Gia started as she grabbed her jumper.
"No, it's fine," Harry said as he pulled on a pair of shorts.
Harry followed her down the stairs. Gia worried a bit as Harry's bare feet hit the plywood of the stairs, hoped no loose nails would jab them. They went out the front door, into the cold, dark, and cloudy morning. A sharp turn, they took the footpath that ran along the house. Gia glanced at the goosebumps around his nipples.
"Warm?" Gia asked.
"Warm enough," Harry said.
"He went to your school, right?" Gia asked.
"Sixth year, like me," Harry said, his breath billowing out steam in the frigid air, "Seen him, many times before. He even got petrified our second year."
"Snake, right?" Gia asked.
"Yeah, that," Harry said, "Him, like the others, wasn't liking me given the shit that's going on—not his fault, but he likely paid the price."
"Don't blame yourself," Gia said, fearing he's doing exactly that.
"That's hard," Harry replied.
Her left hand grabbed his right as they came to a halt by the zebra crossing, the light not in their favor and cars driving past. She turned to him. Her right hand reached around and held his butt as she kissed him. It took a moment for his arousal to press against her.
"I'm serious, don't," Gia said, noticing a bit of a twinkly in his bottle green eyes, like he's eavesdropping.
"But the impostor took him," Harry said, "And he's … dead."
Her right hand moved upward, held between his shoulders, kept them tight. She kissed again, and turned back out. They walked across the zebra crossing, kept on going.
"Focus on me, alright?" Gia asked.
"Guess so," Harry muttered.
Harry sighed, walked with her. Her left hand clutched and held his right as they kept moving along, his fingers wrapped around the ring on her finger. He seemed a tad colder than usual, she wondered if he was even bothering with a warming charm, but knew he was more than capable of remedying that.
"Everything alright?" Harry asked a short while later, as they crossed the bridge over the creek by the two schools.
They walked down the small embankment, to the portable classroom.
"You tell me," Gia replied.
Harry turned to her, his chest against hers, his lips to hers. Her hand reached down, massaged into his shorts. She's mastered the topology beneath her fingers ages ago. Her fingers worked their way around. She understood that if Harry were a cat, he'd be purring about now. Instead, she knew he needed the support, and the new warmth reflected that as he stood there. She withdrew her fingers as the fabric became sticky. She focused on the brief grin that came to Harry's face, a moment to help him ignore the troubles that had been bestowed upon him.
"Til tonight," Gia said.
Harry turned as he stepped back. Gia blew him a kiss. Harry ran for the footpath. Gia turned, entered the portable classroom, when she heard it behind her.
Click!
Overhead lights were out, every student desk empty, before the lights turned on. No students were there, neither was the teacher. Instead, Kristen waved her over to the round table in the corner.
"Excuse me?" Gia said as she came over.
"This is Frank," Kristen said to the man in a suit sitting beside her, "Detective."
"Um…" Gia muttered, her eyes went to the reflections of the fluorescent light in Kristen's metal livery on the police uniform.
"Please," Kristen said, "Have a seat, we need to talk."
"Where's my class?" Gia asked.
"Study hall in the library," Kristen said, "Please have a seat, we'd like to keep this civil, alright?"
Gia slouched into a chair, removed her jumper.
"Please confirm who you are," Frank said, pen in his hand over a pad of paper on the table, "And address."
"Gia Prescott," Gia said, "26 Oak Street."
Frank wrote this down on the paper.
"Frank," Kristen said.
"You'd be surprised," Frank said, "Gia, I understand you have a boyfriend."
"Fiance," Gia said, showing her hand with the ring, "Harry."
"Last name?" Frank asked.
"Harry Potter," Gia said.
"And," Frank said, "I need to know where you've been for the past month."
Frank's brown eyes focused on Gia, the pen at the ready.
"Why?" Gia asked, rubbing the ring on her finger.
She spotted him appear behind both Kirsten and Frank. Harry, bare chested with both nipples, and bottle green eyes, brought a finger to his lips.
"While this is a voluntary interview," Kristen said, "It is official. If you'd want to reschedule to find a solicitor, we can do that, for a short while."
"So," Gia said, "Why do you need to know where we've been for the past month?"
Frank snorted.
"Know that boy we found last night?" Kristen said, "We've gotten some anonymous tips, and so we need to know more about you and Harry, what you were doing."
A quick flick of the wand, Harry came around the table, sat next to Gia. Gia's right hand reached, held his left knee, gave her confidence. His left arm reached around her waist, held.
"A month ago, you were reported missing," Frank said, oblivious to Harry's presence, "You returned earlier this week. May I know the location?"
"We eloped," Gia said, "Honeymoon, sort of, winter holiday and all, nothing better to do."
Kristen snorted.
"We'd been getting stressed," Gia said, "Needed him to focus on me. So, we banged, every chance we could get. I played with his todger in bed, in the shower, in the hot tub, for breakfast, for lunch, for dinner, and think I'm missing a few times."
"I get the point," Frank said.
"Not sure if I borrowed it to write his name in the snow or not," Gia said.
"You'll get the chance," Kristen said.
"Snow," Frank said, "This means this place was…?"
"Skiing, a nude swinger's ski retreat," Gia said, "A couple of tricks and we didn't freeze. Harry's absolutely gorgeous when he's skiing and his…wedding tackle's hanging free."
Frank took a moment on his pen, wrote this down.
"Don't show these notes to my wife," Frank said.
Kristen snorted.
"Where was this place?" Kristen asked.
"Art…Ark…?" Gia said, "Not sure, Germany, I think."
"You think?" Frank asked.
"It's not like Harry stopped to ask for directions," Gia said, "Nor was it a big place…a dozen rooms, maybe. Had a hot tub, a sauna, we hung out in those a lot, when we weren't skiing or sleeping or banging. Think it did good for my skin."
"He's got a debit card, right?" Kristen said, "Perhaps we could check—"
"Harry paid cash," Gia said, felt the fingers that went down her back, rubbed.
"Receipts?" Frank asked.
"Like we'd bother saving those," Gia said.
"Plane tickets?" Kristen said, "You said you flew—"
"No tickets," Gia replied, not sure how to explain the Firebolt to them.
"Passports?" Kristen said.
"Didn't bring those," Gia said.
"Not giving us much to work with," Kristen said.
Harry muttered.
"We wanted to be undiscovered," Harry said, "Guess we were thorough."
"Thought you locked the door," Kristen said to Frank.
"I did," Frank said.
"Save him the embarrassment," Harry said, "Won't say how."
Kristen's eyes focused on Harry's, scrutinized.
"Don't jinx her," Gia said.
Frank snorted.
"So," Frank said, "You must be Harry?"
"I am," Harry said.
"You knew who the body was?" Frank said.
"Justin Finch–Fletchley," Harry said, "Went to my school."
"And this school is?" Frank asked.
"I'm sorry, not allowed to say," Harry said.
"Headmaster?" Frank asked.
"Albus Dumbledore," Harry replied.
"Have you told anybody about the body you found?" Frank asked.
"Yes, him," Harry said, "He needed to know."
"Got what you needed?" Kristen asked Frank.
"For now," Frank said.
"Thank you," Kristen said to Harry and Gia.
Harry stood. Gia put on her jumper, stood.
"Could've asked tonight," Harry stated.
Harry led, Gia followed, and they left the portable classroom, returned to the frigid cold of the morning.
"She—" Harry started.
"Surprised me with that," Gia said.
They went to the library, entered.
"Be alright?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Gia said.
Gia went over, sat down across from Lisa.
Harry shivered as he walked away from the library, his toes felt the ice cold pavement with each step. He came back to the portable classroom, lights still on, showed Frank and Kristen talking as they wandered toward the door. Harry waited.
"You're freezing," Kristen said as she came out.
"I'll be better once I'm running," Harry said, "There was more, wasn't there?"
Harry trained his eyes on hers, watched as she sifted through the memories, the surprise at already getting tips and leads implicating Harry.
"Don't you have school?" Frank asked as he came out of the classroom.
"Which is where?" Kristen asked.
"I wish the school were in your jurisdiction," Harry said.
"I appreciate your confidence," Kristen said, "I can get authorization—"
"Wish you could," Harry said, "Later."
Harry turned, ran. Harry's muscles threatened to cramp in the cold, a rain shower from above seemed to follow him, but he kept running. It felt appropriate, for Justin Finch–Fletchley had been out here in the same, for the days Kristen's eyes hinted at. Water froze at the tips of his hair, turned for the park.
"Hey!" came one holler, "Warm up!"
Harry ignored the man. Harry ran past the officers guarding the scene, where the body had already been removed, one surveying the scene. Harry stuck to the slippery mud path for a moment more, until it came to the stream, when his foot fell out from beneath him.
"Whoa!" Harry muttered, his cold feet refused to stop his slide on his arse.
Vines tangled around his legs as he moved through them, the thorns dug into his skin, and ripped gashes. Harry tried to spin to right himself, the vines went along his back.
Splash!
Harry fell into the moving water of the stream. He sunk, until his knees bumped the rocks of the bottom, and he managed to stand. Harry shivered a bunch more as he climbed out of the bank, pushed up, and tried to run again. His toes complained before they went numb, and he moved a tad faster. Things became a bit more muddled and a blur until he came back to 26 Oak Street, and entered.
…
Hermione curled her legs a bit more, on the sofa by the roaring fire, with Arithmacy and Calculus in her lap, and Crookshanks resting against her thigh. Her fingers crossed the text, when the front door opened. She glanced up at Harry coming into the house. Frozen hair, soaking wet shorts, his skin pale with water and sweat beading down it, and drips from his bangs, along with the scratches. Harry sneezed twice as his feet forced himself next to the fire.
"Trying to freeze?" Hermione asked.
"Talk to the stream about that," Harry said.
"What happened?" Hermione asked as her eyes darted across his scrapes and bruises, bits of blood thawing. She reached as he turned toward her, felt the hard and cold skin of his stomach—the skin went pink under her contact. "Maybe frostbite—"
"Tripped in the park," Harry said, "Thicket of vines lack their leaves but not their claws."
Hermione put the book to the side, stood.
"Come," Hermione said.
Harry walked with her, went up the stairs, into the bathroom. She grabbed the rubbing alcohol from the cupboard, dabbed it across Harry's cuts. Harry tensed but bit his lip. His skin turned a mild red.
"You may think it's hot but you're not," Hermione said, "Use warming charms or cover up!"
"Risk getting heat stroke?" Harry asked. Hermione unsure if Harry was joking or not.
"We can store the perishables—outside!" Hermione snapped.
Harry dropped his shorts and stepped into the bathtub, turned on the water to let the shower pour down hot water.
"I know how to—" Harry started.
"You're hypothermic," Hermione said, "Making sure you recover—gotta finish reading for my essay."
Hermione stood there, watched the hot water course over Harry's skin, turned it pinkish, before it went normal. And she left the bathroom.
…
Ron was laying front down on Gia's bed, on top of the comforter spread out. He brought the quill back to his journal.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Sure, Harry found the right medicine, three weeks with her for the holiday, only to have the Death Eaters…one step forward, two steps back—frustrating. May Justin Finch–Fletchley rest in peace.
Chirp!
"Get your own treat," Ron said to Pigwidgeon.
"Lets read what you're writing," Harry said as he entered the bedroom, towel in his hands drying his head of hair.
"It's cursed," Ron said as he closed his leather bound tomb, "You'd loose two inches if you tried."
"Yeah, right," Harry said as he went over to Hedwig's perch.
Harry dropped the towel as he grabbed the two letters.
"Read those," Ron suggested, "Or, I sketch your arse."
Harry turned backward, bent to show the arse at Ron.
Pfffpt!
"Lovely," Ron said.
Harry stepped back, sat on the bed, curled his left foot beneath his right, letters in his lap. Harry opened the familiar green ink.
"Dumbledore?" Ron asked, spotted Hermione standing in the doorway.
"Who else," Harry said, "Appreciates me giving him—it's not like I had a choice there."
"Of course not," Ron said. Though, he suspected Dumbledore was playing the long game, as usual.
Harry put Dumbledore's letter to the side, examined the second letter. Gold writing, addressed to Harry James Potter, and he flipped it over. A wax seal on the back, bearing the likeness of a lightning bolt, kept the sheet of fancy parchment with pink edges closed. Harry tore at the seal, it gave way, and the letter read itself in a woman's voice, Umbridge's voice.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Dear Mr. Harry James Potter,
Under the order forming this committee, you are required to reimburse the Ministry for the operating costs. Enclosed is an itemized listing of services rendered by this committee and their respective costs. You are required to sign below to authorize the regular removal of this fee from your vault, and to relinquish control of your Gringott's vault to our custodial care. Your key will be confiscated at a later time. Keeping costs under control, the fee for this past month is a mere 1,500 Galleons.
Sincerely, Dolores Jane Umbridge, Chair of the Harry Potter Guidance Committee.
"Blimey!" Harry exclaimed, "The nerve—insults upon injuries!"
"Don't pay," Ron recommended.
"You have to sign—" Hermione started.
"No I don't!" Harry said as he crumpled up the letter and the form, "That's the point of signatures, right?"
As soon as Harry tossed them to the floor, the letter flew back up, uncrumpled itself, as it leapt back into Harry's hand.
"You are required to sign," the letter said, "Pursuant to Ministry regulations—"
"SHUT IT!" Harry shouted to the letter, his fingers unable to tear it apart.
Ron followed as Harry ran, out of the bedroom, down the stairs. Harry threw the letter into the roaring fire in the fireplace, but the letter jumped back out, back into Harry's hand.
"I will be signed and signed right now!" the letter demanded.
Hermione's quill flew up from the coffee table, fixed it's point to the letter, where it started to sign Harry's name to the letter.
"Try parseltongue," Ron said as his eyes roamed the room. His wand out, he summoned a fake rubber snake from the other side of the living room. "Tell it to buzz off."
Harry focused as the signature neared completion, the hiss came out his mouth. Quill dropped as the parchment engulfed in flames, the bill turned into powdery ash that floated down onto the carpet around Harry's toes.
"That's…" Hermione muttered as she finished coming down the stairs.
"I'm already a liar, thug, thief, killer, and cheat," Harry said, "Deadbeat rounds it out."
"You're both animals!" Hermione snapped as she came across the room. Harry walked over, climbed the stairs.
"So are you," Ron said, stepped closer to her, eyes focused on her, "Animal—can I?"
"I have a headache," Hermione said, "Move before I tattoo 'Malfoy' onto that thing."
"You wouldn't—" Ron started.
"Ask JJ," Hermione said as she took her quill, brought the tip within an inch.
Ron moved, went up the stairs. A glance to the empty bedroom, a missing hat, Ron pulled down on the rope to the ladder. It dropped and he climbed up. Harry was already up there, sitting cross–legged, with Advanced Legilimency and the Sorting Hat laid out on the mat. Ron closed the trap–door, sat in front of Harry, their knees touched.
"Funny you'd think of parseltongue," Harry said.
"Legal documents are soaked in snake venom," Ron explained, "So being a parselmouth—"
"I'm not the only parselmouth around," Harry said.
"I know," Ron said, before he explained his trip into the Ministry, auditing Arthur Weasley's case file.
"Voldemort infiltrated—" Harry started.
"Not directly," Ron said, "As the sorting hat here pointed out, through somebody else's tongue, not his."
"That means…" Harry said.
Ron reached, briefly touched Harry's nipple.
"My Dad's innocent," Ron said, "Dumbledore's trying to get him released, but I don't know when that'll happen."
"Minus a house," Harry said.
"He was staying with Fred and George," Ron said, "Think they'd let him stay. Anyways, nice hat."
Ron picked up the sorting hat.
"We both know that's no ordinary hat," Harry said.
"Which can give us Quidditch tips," Ron said, "Unless you want to let Hermione in on this little secret, the mind games."
"Alright, alright," Harry said, "You're paranoid."
"And I think You–Know–Who ain't going to give up," Ron said, "Let's go."
Ron flicked his wand, his eyes penetrated into Harry's, before Harry's wand confiscated Ron's. And they continued practicing.
Gia cinched her jumper as she walked along high street shortly before noon. She wish Harry was with her with one of his warming charms to make things easier. Instead, she walked past the pharmacy, turned, and entered through the arched doorway, headed inside, into a stairwell. She went up this flight, did a hard right, and entered the Solicitor Offices of Andrew Haller.
"May I help you?" asked young woman behind the desk.
"He messaged me," Gia said, waving her mobile phone.
"Andrew!" the woman yelled.
A chubby balding man came out of the other door.
"Yes, this way," the man said.
Gia followed the man into the small room.
"Could've waited to after school," Andrew said.
"Sorry, didn't read that in the message," Gia said.
"My mistake," Andrew said, as he handed over a couple sheets of paper, "Final details for your father's estate, authorize a deposit to your bank, or you can deal with a check—I recommend the deposit."
"Will this do?" Gia asked, pulling her debit card out of the wallet.
"A bit of an advance, if you need it," Andrew said, "Otherwise, you should bring me the numbers when you get a chance."
"It'd be nice to take Harry out," Gia said, "Always seems to go the other way around—not that he minds."
"See he proposed," Andrew said.
"Yep," Gia said.
"Best of wishes," Andrew said.
Gia signed on the papers, left the office.
Ron kept peering into those bottle green eyes. Fresh as the corpse they saw the previous night, that of Justin Finch–Fletchley, kept the emotions on the surface. Each one flashed over and lingered; the disgust, the rage, the self–loathing, that Harry had felt, still felt, and zapped Harry's will to resist.
"Come on!" Ron snapped.
"You're—" Harry started.
"Think Voldemort's letting you have it easy?" Ron asked as the trapdoor squeaked, opened
"New Quidditch strategy?" Hermione asked as she came up a few rungs. "Moon your opponents?"
Ron got onto his hands and knees, aimed his butt toward her.
"I'll distract!" Ron quipped, "Sheer perfection alone—"
"Your arse? Those? Perfect?" Hermione snapped.
"You like them," Ron said.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Ronald," Hermione said.
Harry laughed.
"Harry!" Ron snapped.
"Think the teachers will take you flashing them in lieu of finished essays?" Hermione asked.
Harry chuckled.
"You both should be doing your essays," Hermione said, "Don't want you expelled or held back, I'd have to face Malfoy alone!"
"It's alright," Harry said, "I'll manage."
Ron pivoted, followed Hermione down the ladder.
"Despite being suspended and in the same house," Hermione said as Ron followed her down the stairs, "You two managed to isolate me!"
"Thought you were having fun," Ron said as he slouched onto the sofa, "Reading and doing your essays."
"Is it asking too much to have somebody around?" Hermione asked.
"Guess not," Ron said.
"Care to get Harry?" Hermione asked, "You can do your Quidditch strategy—
"Alright, a confession," Ron said, "Guy things, inappropriate in front of girls."
Hermione glared, her brown eyes flashed at Ron, he didn't need Legilimency to understand.
"Raunchy—better to be ignorant of it," Ron said, before he decided to force the conversation, "You do like us around?"
"Yes," Hermione said, "Even if you're pretending to be productive."
"Guess I best get my things if I'm to pretend to study," Ron said as he stood.
Hermione glared, and Ron went for the stairs.
"Get Harry," Hermione said.
Ron climbed the ladder, his bare feet on the rungs, as he peeked inside the attic. Sorting Hat to the side, Harry with his back to the ladder, his holly wand aimed at his thigh.
"Livorem!" Harry uttered.
A bruise formed on his thigh, and Ron went back down. Ron entered Gia's bedroom, gathered his book bag, gave an owl treat to both birds, and went back down the steps.
"He's…busy," Ron lied as he sat on the sofa, cross–legged, across the coffee table from Hermione. Crookshanks curled up on the cushion next to her.
"Got anything to help Harry with his scar?" Hermione asked, her eyes upon his.
"No," Ron lied.
"It's not like it'd be in the Standard Book of Spells, now, is it?" Hermione said, "While I'm glad he's found something to leverage to fight Voldemort, as he's clearly turned up his sex drive, he shouldn't have to. What I need is a proper library to dig through."
"Got just the book!" Ron announced.
"Don't tell me," Hermione said, "The Romantic Wizard?"
"How'd you guess?" Ron asked.
Hermione snorted.
Ron read the book in his lap, him laying on the sofa in the living room, his right knee pressed against the back cushion. Outside, the sky was darkening in preparation for the evening.
"Not if they're really being attacked!" Ron exclaimed, reading up on paranoia.
"Attacked?" Hermione said, "Rough Quidditch game?"
"Yeah, very rough," Ron lied, as he shuttered the book around a slip of parchment, the outer jacket advertising it to be Chudley Canon Tactics 1856-1857.
"You've only gotten two essays done," Hermione said, "Should switch back—"
"It's…" Ron glanced at the clock, well past four.
Ron swung his legs up, spun, his back on the seat cushion, his legs up into the air, and he leaned back, his head went over the edge, as he stared at Hermione and her chest. His hand held his crotch.
"Interested?" Ron asked.
Hermione glared.
"Hermione!" Ron stammered, as the front door opened.
Richard pulled his jumper up and over his head, his shirt came off with it as he entered.
"It's cold out there," Jen said as she came in.
"Not in here," Richard said, fingers to his belt.
A push, Richard's trousers dropped, his boxers stayed on.
"You hate being dressed," Jen said, her jumper off, but blouse still on.
"Yes," Richard stated.
"Could you not block the doorway?" Gia asked.
Richard went up the stairs. Jen moved to the side.
Gia pulled her jumper off, set it on the sofa next to Ron, stood behind the sofa, between his feet. She leaned over, faced her eyes at Ron, while her hand held Ron's crotch.
"Where's Harry?" Gia asked.
"Likely in the attic," Ron said, "Why?"
"Wasn't he supposed to meet back up with me?" Gia said, "Thought he wanted to protect me."
"You did get home," Hermione said.
"Walked with Richard and Jen," Gia said, "But you know they can't deal with…threats."
"I'll find out," Ron said, not really wanting to move.
"Want to treat him to dinner and a movie," Gia said, "Heard it's good to have a boyfriend along to snog for comfort."
"I'd be up for this," Ron said as he rolled, stood.
Ron walked around Jen, went up the stairs.
Whir! Whir!
Ron stopped at the top, on the upper landing. Richard had a cordless drill in his hands, large bit augering into the door jam to his bedroom.
"Better lock," Richard grumbled, "Cause Mum let Ant out."
"After that?" Ron asked, thumb casually aimed backward.
"Because Ant has rights that even Mum can't override," Richard grumbled.
Richard pressed the trigger, and the bit continued for another moment. Richard brushed at the wood shavings, while Ron went for the ladder.
"Using the attic?" Richard asked.
"Gotta study things without Hermione at times," Ron said.
"Aw," Richard said, "Think she knows about your bollocks by now."
Ron grabbed, tried to adjust, the bulge beneath his briefs for a moment, climbed the ladder. He heard the tremor of flesh pounding against the mat, glanced at Harry, on his back, shaking. Harry's briefs stained in shades of previous distress. Harry stopped, sat back up, back toward Ron, his wand came out, and he pointed it at his left leg.
"Crucio!" Harry said.
Ron watched Harry's left leg spasm, the heel of the foot knocked against the mat, for a moment, until Harry brought the wand to the left arm.
"Crucio!" Harry said.
Harry's flesh twitched, spasmed, while Harry gritted his teeth. Harry brought the tip back down to his crotch, when Ron cleared his throat.
"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, startled.
"We want to go out…you know, a date," Ron said, "Interested in banging Gia?"
"Can't—too many essays," Harry said, "Rather…I'd prefer if I weren't disturbed."
Ron picked up the lie, the conflict within Harry, but Ron figured it better to not drag Harry along.
"Have fun," Ron said, before he climbed back down.
"At least he's taking those essays seriously!" Hermione said as Ron closed the trapdoor, "About time he showed some responsibility."
Ron sighed, stared at those brown eyes beneath that bushy hair, wished to confide to her, but figured it'd betray Harry. Even one mouth was too much risk for the secrets he was bearing. He also picked up on her staunch desire to be proper, her usual one, along with the hidden desire.
"Let's not call it a date," Ron said, seeing the reduction of stress in her eyes as he spoke, "A group of friends, dinner and a movie."
Ron wasn't certain if he'd accidentally suggested it, but Hermione hugged him. Ron kissed and she grinned.
"Can I come?" Jen asked, standing there, "Either that or watching Richard get ready for Ant's pending siege of his bedroom."
"Sure," Gia said as she came out of her bedroom, dressed in a skirt with her purse over her shoulder.
They went down the stairs, left the house.
Ron and Jen walked along the sidewalk, turned onto the footpath at the first chance as they returned from the movie.
"What were you two arguing about back there?" Jen said, "Sounded more ominous than being in that museum in the movie! That body—"
"Justin testified against us at trial," Ron said, "Hermione's from this town, her parents were buried last week. My guess is the people framing us then, dumped Justin's body here, so we'd get blamed for it. That's how things are going from bad to worse."
"Oh," Jen said, "Kristen—she always gets to the truth."
"I hope so," Ron said, "But doubt truth would set us free at this point—not like they need proof, unless you're rich and bribing."
"Who are these people blaming you?" Jen asked.
"Just about everybody," Ron said.
"I'm not," Jen said, "You didn't have anything—?"
Church bells in the distance chimed off the late hour as Ron and Jen reached 26 Oak St. Gia and Hermione came from the footpath by the house instead, joined as Ron entered, went up the stairs. Hermione pulled Ron to the side, in the living room, the coals of the fireplace warming his back.
"I'm sorry," Hermione said to Ron, "I've been—absent."
"Think about what's going on," Ron said, "You know what's going into The Daily Prophet, right? It's simply the latest, and it's aimed at us. Harry's been…" Ron realized he had to soft peddle. "Crying all day over it, he's not taking it well."
"Oh," Hermione said, "You've let us—"
"Gave him a chance to let it—we knew Justin," Ron said, "As much as he hated us, we haven't hated him. Harry still loves his classmates, even though they've turned against us."
"I'll speak with him," Hermione said.
"In the morning," Ron said, "I'm guessing he's a bit exhausted, would rather wait for the morning."
Hermione kissed Ron.
"Ta," Hermione said.
Hermione went up before Ron, followed Jen and Gia up. Ron waited in the upper landing, watched as Jen went into Richard's room, Gia and Hermione went into the usual one, before he pulled down the trapdoor, and climbed. Ron spotted Harry, still on the floor, the underwear completely stained, as Harry aimed his wand at his right hip.
"Crucio!" Harry muttered.
Yellow dribbling seeped off the underwear, as Harry twitched and his teeth grimaced. Ron went all the way up. Harry aimed the wand to his own head.
"STOP!" Ron barked.
"Obliviate!" Harry said as his wand flicked toward Ron.
Ron dropped onto the mat, ducked the curse. Harry didn't flinch, didn't protest, as Ron confiscated the wand. Ron rolled, sat with his knees up, next to Harry.
"Why?" Ron asked.
"I'm warning—" Harry started.
"I lost count," Ron said as he turned his head to focus on Harry's, "How many times have you used the Cruciatus Curse on yourself?"
Ron stared at those bottle green eyes, ones filled with rage, shame.
"Unable to count?" Ron asked.
"Got this big bad Dark Wizard I'm supposed to kill," Harry said, "Maybe you've heard of him?"
Ron snorted.
"Had to start somewhere," Harry said.
"Hogwash!" Ron said, "Doubt you could ever cast a Killing Curse, not properly. You lack the mean bone required, and that's a good thing."
"Then what am I supposed to use?" Harry asked, "A mirror?"
"A piano?" Ron blurted.
"What?" Harry asked.
"You ask You–Know–Who to politely stand over the big mark on the pavement," Ron said, "Levitate the piano really high…"
Harry began to laugh, a grin began to return to his face.
"You skipped a date to practice this," Ron said.
"Oh," Harry said.
"Next one, I'll bind you in ropes if I have to," Ron said, "Drag you along."
Harry snorted, before his fingers flinched at his scar.
"What?" Ron asked.
"That place Gia and I—we spent the winter holiday," Harry said, "It's under attack, destroyed."
"Fuck!" Ron muttered.
"Fuck," Harry said, "Kristen wouldn't listen!"
Harry got up, Ron followed, turned out the light as they climbed down the steps, left the attic. Ron closed the trapdoor.