In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 73: Camping
Albus Dumbledore heard the alarm, his bed tilted itself until he was in the upright position. His hand to the cane in the stand, a lift, and it tapped as he made his way.
"We'll get to the bottom of this," said the Minister, on the ascending staircase, flanked by two Aurors including Cearo Tebworth.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
A mixture of black and sky blue, the brunette witch drew her wand.
"One charm," Tebworth said.
The minister snorted.
"Unfortunately," the Minister said, "Hogwarts is a listed property. Know the penalties for unauthorized alterations?"
Albus Dumbledore waited for his lift to carry him to the bottom. A slow tap, he came to the desk, grateful the charms on the door finally recognized unfriendlies. Albus moved the quill on his desk, read the note in loopy handwriting.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Do not cooperate.
"ENTER!" the Headmaster bellowed.
Sky blue robes came first, swaddling the pin–stripe suit, while Tebworth and Buckland followed.
"This has gone too far," the Minister said, "Dark Marks…I need Harry Potter's location."
"I do not understand what you expect from Hogwarts," the Headmaster said, "You suspended him on Monday."
"You are the Headmaster," the Minister said, "You know the location of every student."
McGonagall and Snape entered the office.
"As Headmaster of Hogwarts," Albus Dumbledore said, "I am satisfied that Mr. Potter is not at Hogwarts nor on its grounds while on a penalty of out–of–school suspension. I have also advised him that dwelling in Hogsmeade would not be in his best interests—if any there would have him."
"I expect cooperation," the Minister said.
"In the spirit of cooperation," the Headmaster said, "I shall refrain from throwing you out for causing disruption even though your presence clearly warrants it."
"I know you too well," the Minister said, "One of your lackeys is undoubtedly trailing Potter at this very moment, lending him assistance. This is official business, in case you're mistaking this as a friendly request."
"Even if I had…servants," Albus Dumbledore said, "Ministry has more resources to spare to such a search."
A glare, from those eyes, ire of the Headmaster redundant, a hint to being a puppet, and the stress of a pending inquiry. The Minister turned.
"You know where Mr. Potter is?" the Minister asked Professor McGonagall.
"I'm the Deputy Headmistress," McGonagall said, "My concern is with Hogwarts and the possibility we may have missed a breeding pair of snakes in our emergency on Monday."
The Minister turned again, toward Snape.
"Have you recently seen Potter outside Hogwarts?" the Minister asked.
"Once," Snape said.
"Where?" the Minister asked.
"I was never on the outside," Snape said, "Based on the architecture, it was certainly not Hogwarts."
"So you do know!" The Minister turned to the Headmaster. "How else would he have found Potter?"
"Accidents have been known to happen," the Headmaster said, "Now, please be civil, and depart this office before that occurs."
"Is that a threat?" the Minister asked.
"This is a very old castle," the Headmaster said, "Before the floor caves in."
The Minister spat, turned, and left the office.
"You bought us—at most, a day," McGonagall said.
"Severus," the Headmaster said, "See if somebody simply decided to rebrand their followers."
"Unlikely," Snape said.
"Minerva," the Headmaster said, "This evening, after the you–know, see if that somebody recently placed an order for these new robes."
"Understood," McGonagall said.
Snape and McGonagall left the office. The Headmaster glanced back at The Daily Prophet on the desk.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Potter Strikes!
Fears of a new Dark War were validated last night by the Minister of Magic who confirmed that a Dark Mark was spotted rising over two Muggle towns last night. Potter has evidently altered the Dark Mark to include a yellow lightening bolt resembling the infamous scar, this new mark is dubbed the Potter Mark.
Ministry officials confirm responding last night to reports of the Potter Mark; they found the Muggle family of four murdered by use of Killing Curses. Muggle authorities swept in, yet they refuse to consider Potter, the obvious, a suspect in the matter.
Later that evening, a second Potter mark was seen rising above Portsmouth. Again, Ministry officials investigated and found that a Muggle family of six was found murdered with Killing Curses after a lengthy torture session.
Clearly, Potter is rising in his performance of the Dark Arts.
In one picture, bottle green robes with lightning bolts adorned to their sleeves. Albus knew this to be staged as Death Eaters of old didn't hire out photographers, but knew this was also the picture to greet his students once they wake up.
Hoot
Harry rolled as the bird nibbled his ear Thursday morning. Over Ron, Harry tried to climb out of bed. A second nibble followed by her wings flapping, the brush of air, and Harry stumbled off the bed. Foot stepped onto his clothes on the floor, and he set an owl treat beneath her pedestal. She hopped over, waited until Harry stroked the feathers, and she nibbled at the treat. A squawk as Pigwidgeon came over. A push, the puff of feathers began to tumble.
"Hey!" Harry quipped as he caught the wayward owl, "Let Pig in."
"Ready?" asked Richard, from the door.
Harry grabbed his green T–shirt, carried it out the door.
Harry made it down the steps.
"Yeah," Harry said.
Harry went out the door. Shirt up and over his head, the T–shirt' elastic coller bit into his neck as he ran. They moved along in the growing light of the morning, until they came along the row, the house in the middle, gone.
"It fucking happened!" Richard stammered as they came to a halt.
"Yeah," Harry grumbled, staring at the black soup of ashen wood, dead embers.
"Brian first—now his family," Richard said, "Ain't right."
"Nope," Harry said, turning to the makeshift memorial of flowers that piled up.
A glint of green cloth on the ground, reminded Harry, and his thoughts turned to Gia, when he realized the danger.
"Gotta…" Harry started, however, his feet moved. Only a few seconds later, he entered 26 Oak Street. A blur up the stairs, he ran into the bathroom, where Gia was in the shower. She smiled.
"Quick run," Gia said.
"Sorry, panic," Harry said.
"Mind saying?" Gia asked.
Harry leaned in, kissed her.
"Not an answer," Gia said.
Harry held her tight, the bosom against him.
"You're going to have to wait," Gia said.
Harry frowned, she laughed, and left the shower. Towel flew into Harry's hand, and he dried himself as he left, followed her into the bedroom.
"I'm coming with you to school," Harry said to Gia.
"Can't," Hermione said from beneath the covers, "Professor McGonagall's—"
Harry pointed at The Daily Prophet spread out on the desk.
"This is why," Harry snapped.
"Hmm…" Gia's arms wrapped behind Harry, "Maybe leave your dark mark on me?"
"Not funny," Harry grumbled, the modified dark mark on the front page.
Red hair, Ron peeked out from beneath the covers.
"Get him," Ron said to Gia.
"Ron!" Hermione snapped.
"Not saying I'd skip," Harry said, "Only I'm walking her to school."
"Best hurry," Hermione suggested.
Harry moved to the wardrobe, pulled out the usual Hogwarts shirt, the slacks.
"Oh," Gia said, "Exotic."
Black shoes on, Harry followed Gia. He studied her light blue blouse, the school jumper, and the slacks down, as they left the house as Richard returned.
"Feel overdressed," Harry complained.
Harry walked with Gia, onto the footpath. He grabbed her hand, held it.
"You are worried," Gia said.
They crossed the zebra crossing.
"Maybe I'm making more out of it than I should," Harry said, the dark mark of the previous night in his mind, "Still…"
Harry worried a bit, that he was being the too over–protective boyfriend. Noigate wasn't the wizarding world, his troubles laid there. They made it to the footpath over the stream behind the school, Harry and Gia turned off, crossed over the path, between the trailer classrooms, to the main building, and into the theater. Inside, otherwise empty of people, however, the spotlights of the stage still on, focused onto a courtroom bench. They went down to that stage, walked on it.
"Thanks," Gia said, "You can—"
"Got a few minutes," Harry said.
Lights heated up his clothes, as effective as a heating charm. Harry took Gia's hands, both of them, his eyes on her.
"This court's called to session," Harry said, "Gia Marie Prescott, you've been accused of loving Harry James Potter. How do you plead?"
Ron dove back beneath the covers as Harry left.
"Maybe Madam Pomfrey had the right idea." Hermione pressed her wand him. "Ask Harry for the charm…take me a moment to find it."
Ron sprang forward, slipped and tumbled over the foot of the bed. He entangled in the covers as he fell onto the floor, crashed halfway into the trunks. Hermione laughed.
"Don't joke about that," Ron said as he stood.
"Who said I was joking?" Hermione asked.
Ron read the humor behind her brown eyes.
"Don't," Ron said, "Spare em, like you did Harry's."
"His doing," Hermione said, "I merely finished the deed."
"Boys ain't bright," Ron said, "Attack our nards—"
"Sorry," Hermione said, "Didn't really mean it."
A hoot from Hedwig.
"Let's get dressed," Ron said.
Ron gave Hedwig an owl treat, stroked her feathers, and Pigs. He grabbed a pair of underwear.
"Think that's Harry's," Hermione said.
"Like he wears em," Ron said, "Still, keeps your wand away from my bollocks."
"Sorry," Hermione said, patting Ron on the back.
"Threatening them is a step too far," Ron said, pulling his undershirt on.
Hermione put her hand on Ron's shoulder.
"Relax," Hermione said, "I'm not doing anything to those—it's the thing that makes you dateable."
"Um…thanks," Ron said.
"You can't think without them," Hermione said.
"Let's go," Ron said.
Ron pulled out his Portkey, activated it. Hermione held on.
"That's two," said Professor McGonagall, in her emerald green robes, "And Mr. Potter?"
"Along shortly," Ron lied, unsure to Harry's schedule.
"He should've traveled with you," Professor McGonagall said, "I trust that Professor Dumbledore advised you to keep Portkey use to a minimum as they are unregistered."
Ron swallowed.
Pop!
Harry appeared as he landed. Clothes, including his slacks, well wrinkled. His shoes dumped water.
"Smarten yourself up Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, "We have much to cover and little time to do it in."
They went downstairs, and into the Room of Requirement.
"You've all studied the theory," Professor McGonagall said, "Miss Granger's competent with stretchers—"
A nudge to Ron's leg, a yellow Labrador dropped a green tennis ball, puppy eyes up at Rom.
"Scram!" Ron snapped at the dog.
Dog stepped forward, nudged Ron's trousers, and took a step back. Eyes returned to Ron.
"Whose dog?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Dunno." Ron gave a sharp kick toward the dog. "Scram mutt!"
This dog stepped back, avoided the kick, whimpered, before it went back to nudge Ron. It's puppy eyes returned to Ron.
"Alright!" Ron snapped.
Ron reached down, picked up the ball, and threw it across the room. A tag wagged as the dog bolted after the ball, clinched it with his mouth, and ran back to Ron. Harry snickered as the ball rolled against Ron's feet.
"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall asked, "Did you conjure up the dog?"
"Yes," Harry said.
Both the dog and ball vanished.
"I am trying to teach things that you may very likely find of use," Professor McGonagall said, "Please take this seriously, for I have very limited time to spare for tutoring."
"Yes," Harry said.
"Not funny," Ron thought to Harry.
"Yes it was," Harry replied.
Professor McGonagall took out her wand.
Mid–morning on Friday, Hermione left the lavatory in Lupin's manor, when the greasy voice called out.
"Granger!" came Snape's voice, his dark eyes bore down on Hermione.
"I'll get—" Hermione started for the door to the Room of Requirement.
"Stop," Snape said, "Upstairs."
Hermione climbed the stairs into the living room.
"We do not have to like each other to help each other," Snape said, "I shall get to the point."
Hermione stood there, felt the same twinkle that Ron and Harry now bore.
"You may be aware of a knack of insight that Potter has with the Dark Lord," Snape said, "Similarly, the Dark Lord performs the reverse."
Hermione thought of Harry's scar.
"Over the holidays," Snape continued, "While Weasley interfered with our attempts to locate Potter, the Dark Lord was within miles. Another six hours at that place of ill repute, and Potter would have been captured, his muggle killed. Do I need to stress the implications?"
"No," Hermione said.
"Clearly safety is not a quality that neither Potter nor Weasley possess," Snape said, "Are we in agreement?"
Hermione remained quiet, though she did see the logic.
"Cooperation with the Headmaster is in your best interests," Snape said, "Yet, they refuse it. Does any of this concern you?"
A moment of silence, Hermione turned, watched the boat sail along the inlet.
"A certain skill can be taught," Snape continued, "One that can help Potter regain the sanctity in his head. However, ever since the Headmaster brought this to Potter's attention in October, months before that dreadful incident in December, Potter still refuses to be taught."
"A lesson," Hermione said, "When we're at Hogwarts."
"Except it is restricted," Snape said, "Cannot be taught within Hogwarts, if you even had the chance."
"What's this skill?" Hermione said, "Get me a book—"
"It requires one who is proficient," Snape said, "Only three outside the Ministry are capable of providing the training required. I trust no explanation is necessary for why the Dark Lord is unsuitable."
"Obvious," Hermione said.
"The Headmaster is frail," Snape said, "That leaves me."
Hermione understood the hesitancy, unsure to the skill.
"Harry doesn't learn from you," Hermione said, "He learns in spite of you."
"Only other option is to remain vulnerable," Snape said, "In weeks, your friend will become another puppet of the Dark Lord. Is this what you want?"
Hermione remained silent.
"Answer is obvious," Snape said, "Persuade Weasley to drop his interference, persuade Potter to accept the help that has been offered to him, for the benefit of everybody's well–being."
Hermione kept quiet.
"Best if you do not repeat this conversation to either of them," Snape forewarned, "Need not head down, today's lesson is about to end."
Footsteps behind her, as Snape drew out of sight. Hermione wondered what the skill was, she needed a list of forbidden subjects, a list likely forbidden to see. More footsteps.
"Should've guessed," Ron said.
Hermione turned, his red hair, the blue eyes that focused on her, the grin.
"A book for a wand is a fair trade for her," Harry said as he entered the living room, "Ready?"
Hermione touched the Portkey as Harry activated it, a jerk to the naval and they were pulled back to Noigate. A moment after they landed in Gia's bedroom, Harry vanished.
"One guess," Ron said.
"We need the spell," Hermione said.
"It's not in any book," Ron said, "For good reason."
Hermione grabbed Ministry: Transport.
"Not exactly well organized," Hermione said as she thumbed through it.
"Likely a spell for that too," Ron said.
"THAT'S MY DECISION!" came Kristen's voice.
"But MUM!" Richard pleaded.
Ron led the way, Hermione followed, to Richard on the stairs, Kristen there.
"Where's Harry and Gia?" Kristen said, "Can drive you as soon as you're ready."
"You're taking them?" Richard asked.
"A nice weekend camping?" Kristen said, "Be a shame to waste the planning, but seeing as you're grounded, I'll be driving them. And you get to explain to your father when he gets home."
A frown on Richard's face. Kristen turned to Ron.
"Harry went to get her," Ron said, "Bit early."
"In–service half–day," Kristen said.
"Best to get ready." Ron turned for Hermione, his twinkling blue eyes on her.
"Good," Hermione said, turned for the closet, reached for the two backpacks.
"Oh, yeah," Ron said, "Definitely what I meant."
"What else would you mean?" Hermione asked.
"Um…nothing," Ron said.
Ron went over, added another owl treat to Hedwig's perch.
"Ta," Harry said as he entered the bedroom, Gia behind him.
Hermione went to her book–bag, wondered about slipping an inkjar into the backpacks.
"This isn't a good idea," Hermione said, "We have studying—"
"You can stay here if you want, don't have to come along," Ron said, "I'm going with them."
Hermione dropped a few books in, and her book–bag. Ron lifted his Firebolt, began to put it in one of the backpacks.
"Ready?" Kristen asked from the upper landing.
"In a few moments!" Gia shouted back.
"Could use this instead," Harry said as he put his Firebolt into his backpack.
"Yeah, sure," Ron said.
"Want to explain brooms?" Hermione asked, "Without saying the word 'magic'?"
Gia added a few things to Harry's backpack.
"Food," Ron muttered.
Hermione followed Ron down the steps into the kitchen, backpack on his strap on his shoulder. Ron turned to empty a few things into the backpack. A side profile to Hermione. Hermione wondered if she ought to talk to him about her discussion with Snape. A twist of the hips, the pelvis where the bollocks should lay beneath the trousers, she thought he might be mature enough to handle it.
"We need to…" Hermione started, only to stop as Harry came into the kitchen.
"Gia says we need…stuff," Harry said, going to the same cupboard Ron was raiding.
"Sure we can get…stuff," Ron said, "Think the electric kettle would be useful?"
"Muggles can't use those on these sort of trips," Harry said.
"Fascinating," Ron said, "Wish my Dad…"
Hermione focused on Harry, wondered how much Voldemort was really listening to them.
"Ready?" Harry asked Hermione.
Hermione followed Harry and Ron, out the front door, into the car in the driveway. She took the front passenger seat, while Harry and Ron got into the back, Gia between the boys.
"Think she's mad?" Ron asked Harry as the car began to move.
"She's your girlfriend," Harry quipped.
"And your friend too," Hermione snapped.
"Bit tight to bang up there," Gia said.
"Think we can manage," Ron offered.
"What's eating her?" Harry asked.
"Hermione?" Ron asked.
"It's…nothing," Hermione lied.
Hermione let her eyes defocus, sort of watched as the signs, trees, off–ramps passed them by. Instead, she'd scratch a bit at her T–shirt beneath her jumper as the car moved along. Her mind mulled over Snape's words, unsure how to ask Harry what was meant without divulging the conversation; if only she knew the subject, she could do research into tutors. She figured she'd have to ask Lupin, or McGonagall, or Tonks if they knew.
"How'd you get a sixteen year old to treat his sister better?" Kristen asked, toward the end of the drive as they approached the hills in the dwindling daylight.
"If you find out, teach it to my cousin," Harry said.
"Dunno," Gia said, "No siblings."
"Me neither," Hermione said, "Ron?"
"Always treat Ginny nice," Ron said.
Harry snorted.
"What?" Ron said, "A reminder I'm paying attention, to keep her from getting into too much trouble."
"You have that big family," Kristen asked.
"Yeah," Ron said, "Mum kept watch, enough to know Fred and George won't go too far, at least not intentionally."
"You'd fight with Ginny?" Kristen asked.
"Sure, we had our disagreements," Ron said, "You can bet Ant's not innocent."
"I grounded them both," Kristen said.
They came to the small parking lot, and Kristen stopped the car, light rain in the headlights. In near unison, three doors opened; Hermione, Harry, and Ron got out first.
"The boot?" Harry asked.
"Sure about that outfit?" Kristen asked.
Harry stood there in a T–shirt and shorts, bare feet on the wet gravel.
"In the backpack," Harry said, "When we get cold."
"Worst case," Ron said, "We start a fire."
"Getting a bit dark," Kristen said.
"Got torches," Harry said as he gripped the door, "We're fine."
"If anything goes wrong," Kristen said, "Don't hesitate to call."
"Will do," Gia said as she helped sling Harry's backpack up to his shoulder.
"Somebody's got a fully charged phone—?" Kristen asked.
"Got it," Hermione lied.
"Thank you," Harry closed the car door.
A rev, the car left the parking lot.
"You're…overdressed," Ron said to Hermione.
"Only if she wants to," Harry replied.
"Suppose you want to strip and sport everything to the top," Hermione sneered.
"Can't afford the wrong party spying anything," Harry said, "Ron could—"
"Not at these temperatures," Ron said, hand across the goosebumps of his neck.
Harry's wand came to his hand as the darkness began to overtake them. However, their pupils contracted fast as the parking lot flooded with the light from Harry's wand, transformed the coming night back into day, birds chirped.
"To heck with a torch," Gia said.
Harry and Gia went first for the trail.
"Coming?" Harry asked.
"Go ahead," Ron said, "Hermione and I—"
"Brave," Harry said as he moved fast.
Light dwindled back to twilight in the glow of the moonlight. Hermione stared at him.
"Where's the sorting hat now?" Hermione worked her hands between Ron's jacket and T–shirt. "Obvious you you need it—no thinking's being done on your part."
"You're ticked," Ron said.
"Really?" Hermione shoved Ron backward, he fell with his butt to the ground. "How'd you figure that out?"
"Calm down!" Ron's eyes focused up at her. "Figured we could talk."
Ron stood.
"Can we talk?" Ron gestured, they walked onto the trail, "What's eating you?"
Hermione followed him.
"You," Hermione blurted.
"Me?" Ron spun around, stopped. His blue eyes twinkled in the deepening twilight, the moonlight swept the tops of the trees.
"More to life than keeping your bollocks happy," Hermione said.
"They…" Ron said, "They do help me think."
Hermione snorted. Ron turned around, and they continued.
"Know Harry's got problems, we all do," Hermione said, "You—you're putting him first, before me, more concerned with his vanity than safety."
"If he falls, we all do," Ron said.
"Sure—his gonads need some attention," Hermione said, "But you're being reckless, putting that before any concern with safety, safety you're ignoring."
Ron stumbled over a root, regained his balance.
"Snape talked to me this morning," Hermione said, "He's more concerned about Harry's safety than you are."
"There's more than one type of safety," Ron said.
"Safety of his bang—can't make do with a wank," Hermione said, "Claimed Death Eaters were minutes away from capturing him over Christmas."
"Snape hates Harry," Ron said.
"Doesn't mean Snape's wrong," Hermione said.
"Doesn't mean he's right either," Ron replied.
"I shouldn't be agreeing with Professor Snape," Hermione said, "But I am, because Dumbledore and Sirius were also right, Harry running off with her. Zero protection…for his cock? That's irresponsible."
Ron shrugged his backpack laden shoulders, kept walking.
"Well?" Hermione asked.
"I'm listening." Ron stopped, turned around, his blues seemingly glowed to her.
"More to life than pleasing your bollocks!" Hermione snapped.
Ron spun, kept walking.
"It's not the meaning of life," Hermione said.
"Then what is it?" Ron asked.
"To him—it's giving Gia her daily dose of bop," Hermione said, "That's why he likes her."
Another twist of the foot path.
"Maybe I shouldn't have put them back in for him," Hermione said, "It'd help his studies immensely to not be so…distracted."
Ron sighed.
"And before you give me this issues crap," Hermione said, "Harry's fine. A bit stressed, we all are, but he's always fine in the end. He can put up with it, boppings not required."
Ron paused, watered a tree. "Keep going."
"Got nothing to say?" Hermione asked.
"It'd involve you taking your clothes off," Ron said.
Hermione smacked his backside.
"Do that again," Ron said.
Ron shook his hips, and resumed walking.
"Your cavalier attitude AGAIN!" Hermione said, following Ron on the twists of the trail, "Give a damn his scar acts up?"
"He's got it under control," Ron stated.
"Ha!" Hermione said, "What's he done since being possessed by Voldemort? Nothing, except to claim that shagging helps."
"It does," Ron said.
"When Snape offers to tutor, you know it's serious," Hermione said, "Supposedly approached Harry in October. Yes, before Halloween! Not only has Harry been neglecting this for MONTHS, you've been encouraging him to reject help! What'd you say about that?"
Hermione glared at Ron in front of her, the foulness came to her.
"Well?" Hermione demanded.
Ron turned around. His blue eyes twinkled.
"Letting you finish," Ron said.
"More concerned about the Chudley Chaser lineup five hundred years ago?" Hermione asked.
"Snape laid guilt into you really good," Ron said.
"That's your only serious thought?" Hermione said, "You're more concerned with getting him laid, like he needs help with that! Like Monday, he puts us through that nightmare, frightened all of us, and you ran after him to service his todger."
"Scared me too," Ron said. He turned back forward, they continued to hike.
"He blew you instead?" Hermione asked.
Ron spun back to her, stopped and his blue eyes laid into her.
"I needed you and you chased him," Hermione said, "I know your priorities, and it ain't me. You go after Harry first, determined to scuttle our relationship…for…for no good reason. And you're not answering me. I want a response."
"You deserve one." Ron pulled Hermione in close.
"Not like that!" Hermione snapped.
"Making me choose between you two?" Ron asked.
"You've already chosen," Hermione said.
"You're getting things wrong," Ron stated.
"You called me an idiot," Hermione said.
Ron's blue eyes twinkled, seemed to encourage her to wait. She wondered if she went overboard, to realize his bollocks weren't capable of complex thought.
"You're not," Ron said, "I…maybe my todger's picked up a bit more on Harry because, well, it's a todger. To me, Harry's made his case, to me, having Snape tutor is a disaster in the making. To me, Harry's better off with her playing with his todger than anything else. What you call a lack of concern, I assure you, it's quite the opposite."
"Funny way of showing it," Hermione said.
"I'm doing what I think best for Harry," Ron said, "And you. But, I'm not going into the details, I'm not going to explain it, not even to my Mum."
"Ronald Weasley," Hermione seethed, "You're talking in riddles and covering it up! Can you honestly expect me to believe in your load of codswallop without any shred of evidence?"
"If you love Harry as I do," Ron said, "Don't question me as proof would come too late to save him."
"Explain it or I'm clearly second rate to you!" Hermione jerked out of Ron's grasp. "You'll want to catch up to him—you're clearly more interested in him!"
Hermione moved forward faster than him.
"I've got the sleeping bag!" Ron said.
"Good," Hermione said, "Seeing as you can't conjure one up!"
Hermione spotted the light, turned left, a good three miles up from the parking lot. Ron followed. She hiked along the creek on the lesser trail for a bit until they reached the rock face at the end of the forested valley. About a hundred feet high, small rock faces helped to form a steep embankment, bending about six hundred feet wide, water trickled in small waterfalls into a pool below. By the shore of the water, on a flat surface, a light–blue four–person tent brightly illuminated from within.
"Ron's—?" Gia started.
"Coming," Hermione said, pointed to the red head a hundred feet behind her.
Hermione came to that tent, ducked as she entered, and closed the zipper. Only then did she notice Harry, sitting cross–legged on his sleeping bag. His wand stuffed and propped between the netting, flooding the tent with its daylight–like illumination. Hermione sat.
"Ron?" Harry asked.
"Can I use your sleeping bag?" Hermione said, "You and Ron could—"
"He's—?" Harry asked.
"Biggest prat ever," Hermione said, "His only interest in me is to bang, or auto–essay–quill."
"You do those well," Harry said, "RON!"
…
"She's…" Ron started, unsure how to explain this to Gia.
"Argued all the way up?" Gia asked.
"What else?" Ron asked.
"RON!" came Harry's voice.
Ron walked, opened the zipper to the tent. Bottle green eyes stared from Harry, the displeasure behind them clear.
"Under no circumstance, break Hermione's heart," Harry said, "Rectify your spat, because I'll be cold until then, and your sleeping bag might get wet outside."
Clear Ron swallowed hard.
"Even prats deserve a second chance," Harry said to Hermione.
"Well?" Hermione demanded as she turned, "Got the sleeping bag or not?"
Ron dropped the backpack from his back, his shoulders grateful for the relief. He massaged his left shoulder.
"Be back in a bit." Hermione left the tent.
Ron followed her, a bit further to a log away from the tent. She sat on it, Ron straddled and faced her, stars above them through the tree canopy.
"Like I'm perfect and never botch things," Ron said.
Hermione snorted.
"I'm trying to keep you both," Ron said, "I love both of you and I don't want to have to choose, thought we were better…guess I was wrong."
Ron didn't like the tone.
"Sorry," Ron said, "Clearly goofed as you're feeling like this."
Her head turned, the glare of those eyes, the ire clear.
"Understand my point?" Hermione asked, "No sensibilities. When you do part from Harry long enough to notice me, you flatter to bang!"
"Don't mean it like that," Ron said, "Not flattery and shiny beads. I'm trying to make you happy, but do I need to sacrifice Harry?"
"Not saying to kill him," Hermione said, "Shouldn't you first focus on me?"
"Our fates are tied up with Harry's," Ron said, "Asking to trash my friendship with Harry?"
"No," Hermione said, "Tell me."
"Giving me an ultimatum?" Ron said, "I can chose to date you, lose Harry. Or keep Harry and lose you. It's coming to that."
"Not it's not," Hermione protested.
Ron stood.
"Split second decisions!" Ron said, "Who do I sacrifice? Who do I keep?"
"Don't do this!" Hermione warned.
"Said so yourself!" Ron said, "Protect him—choose him over you! Choose you and we lose him! Either way, I lose both of you."
"Why'd you even think this?" Hermione asked.
"This loser awaits your decision in the tent," Ron said, "I'll be the bloke in the sleeping bag."
Ron headed for the tent.
Ron woke alone in the sleeping bag Saturday morning. Gia in the other. A wiggle, Ron crawled through the open zipper. Hermione wedged on the outside of the tent, in her own conjured sleeping bag. Harry's feet pressed in the cool, spongy dirt, the water lapped.
"Going for a swim?" asked Ron, now walking for Harry.
"Care to explain her?" Harry asked, pointed.
Harry glare obvious.
"We argued about you," Ron said.
"Me?" Harry asked.
"Snape paid her a visit at Lupin's while we were practicing below," Ron said, "Wanna guess the topic?"
A glance, and Harry knew.
"That again?" Harry spat.
"Determined," Ron said.
"I'll say," Harry said, "They won't give up!"
"How do I tell her that you're taking it seriously?" Ron said, "Without showing her what's hidden beneath your Invisibility Cloak?"
"One look," Harry said.
"If you thought Dumbledore's persistent," Ron said.
"Hermione'd be worse," Harry said.
"We love you," Ron said, "She doesn't want you to fail either."
"Ta," Harry grumbled.
"Getting worse?" Ron asked.
"A bit." Harry rubbed at his forehead.
"Lets go find a great big snake," Ron said, "Get you another buddy to talk to."
"I get the point," Harry said.
A moment later, the light hair, Gia walked over.
"Wait for her," Gia said to Ron.
Harry slung the strap of the backpack to his shoulder.
"Good luck," Harry said to Ron.
Harry moved to the right, went up to the top of the rock face along the edge.
"Ahem," Hermione's voice came to him.
"Well?" Ron asked as he approached her.
She went for the tent.
"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked, rummaging for the backpack.
"I'd guess Gia," Ron said, "Don't go for that."
Ron reached in, grabbed the strap of the backpack. Hermione glared as she turned for him.
"Harry'll keep," Ron said, "Mind a walk?"
Ron lifted his backpack, slung the right strap over his shoulder.
"Oh," Hermione said, her eyes up, "That's where."
Ron took the distraction, swallowed the toffee from the pocket of the backpack, kept the wrapper in his left hand. Then he glanced, at Harry dangling from a rope on the rock face. Gia waved from the top.
"Lets go," Ron said.
Hermione followed, as Ron made for the main trail. A turn, and they continued where they had departed the previous night. Though this time, the light of the clouds above, damp mist around them.
"You turned him down?" Hermione asked.
"Yep," Ron lied, "Spend the day with you and you and you and you and you and you and—"
Hermione jabbed him in the stomach. Ron stopped as he doubled over, for a moment.
"I'll bungle things again—we both know that," Ron said, "Sorry, but Harry's not one of them."
"I fail to see—" Hermione started.
"Hermione," Ron spun to her, his hands with curled fingers to her shoulders, "You expect me to keep your secrets, even to Harry, right?"
"Can I trust you?" Hermione asked.
"It's not like you're stupid—far from it," Ron said, "Harry's confided—enough to make you wrong because you don't know it. I'll nag, see if he wants to spill, maybe you'll think better of me, but I'm not pushing him away."
"You're more concerned with friendship than the friend," Hermione said.
A glance to the shrubs separating her from the field beyond, a return to those brown eyes.
"My concern for him trumps friendship." Ron's mind searched for a distraction. "Um…wanna fly instead of walk?"
"And it's—?" Hermione started.
"Backpack."
"Of course."
Hermione rolled her eyes, she turned to walk.
"No?" Ron asked, following her.
"At least you figured one thing out!"
"Two—because you've become so damn irritable."
"Really? I'm FINE!"
"No, no you're not."
Hand to her shoulder, spun her around, Ron's hands to her jacket, tickled. She giggled for a moment.
"Trying for a bang?" Her eyes flashed. "Or permanent bachelorhood?"
"Okay," Ron said, "Punch me."
"Pardon?"
"Know where it hurts most, punch me."
Hermione punched Ron in the crotch. Ron clutched his crotch, bled profusely from his nose as he rolled onto the ground.
"Sorry…" Hermione started, "Didn't mean—"
"Didn't mean what?" Ron asked as he stood back up, blood dripping over the decaying leaves on the trail.
"Sorry," Hermione said.
Hermione pointed her wand at Ron's nose, blood streaming down his lip.
"Funny," Hermione said, "Should be healing."
Ron opened his left hand over hers, placed the small wrapper, the one bearing the marking of WWW.
"Bloody Nose," Ron said.
"You prat!" Hermione shoved him.
"Grin!" Ron exclaimed, pointed at her face that bore it. "Great!"
Hermione groaned as they waited for the bleeding to stop.
"Something died here," Hermione said.
Ron glanced down with her, the trail covered in red, from stone to pebble to dirt to root, up and down a good ten or twenty feet.
"Yeah," Ron said, "Something's in real trouble."
Hermione chuckled.
"We needed a break," Ron said as they moved forward, "This was a good idea."
"After Harry's three week holiday with her," Hermione said.
"Have you noticed what's happened since then?" Ron said, "Murders, that Potter Mark, me in a coma for a week! All because we continue to live, refuse to die."
"Don't be gloomy," Hermione said.
"Essays be damned!" Ron said, "Your irritability is need enough for a break. So, for today, forget all of that, enjoy things, today."
"Sit on the sorting hat?" Hermione asked.
"I prescribe at least one full goof off day per week," Ron said.
"I'll keep that in mind Dr. Weasley," Hermione replied.
"So Hermione Weasley—"
"What did you just say—?"
"Trying out the name."
"Premature, very premature."
Unsure who he spooked more, Ron walked along with Hermione, both kept their lips idle.
Several meadows and miles later, after the third set of hikers, silence broke.
"So," Hermione said, "We get Harry to ask Snape for help."
"Sure," Ron said, "Let's bang on Snape's desk, see if he'll award points!"
"That's between us!" Hermione snapped.
Ron turned toward her, his hand touched her nipple.
"What you're asking is more intimate than that," Ron said, "Starkers doesn't even begin to cover it."
"You've talked about this with Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Enough," Ron said, "Our interests, our best hope, is keeping them from interfering with Harry and Gia."
"You're skirting—" Hermione started.
"And betray his trust?" Ron said, "Forget it. We'll keep arguing if we keep the subject. I'd rather not argue any more today, please?"
Her eyes blinked at him. Ron dropped the backpack, reached in, pulled out a beer bottle.
"Bit of help," Ron said.
"Beer?" Hermione stammered, her eyes wide, "You're proposing—"
"Could ask you to marry me?" Ron asked.
"Never," Hermione snapped.
"Split this one?" Ron asked.
Ron opened the bottle, took a swig, and handed it to Hermione. She sipped, returned it. They alternated until the bottle was empty. Ron threw the bottle up into the air, his wand aimed, and the curse destroyed the bottle.
"Trying to summon the Ministry?" Hermione asked.
"Screw em," Ron said, "Sending us to Azkaban, next month?"
"Don't give them a reason," Hermione said.
"They're not looking here," Ron said.
Ron pulled her close, kissed her.
"Sex!" Hermione stammered as she stepped back, "Knew it!"
"You're still stressed." Ron pulled an ale out of the backpack. "Have another."
Ron opened the bottle, handed it over to her, however, she hesitated, her flashing brown eyes at Ron. Ron didn't need Legilimency to understand the anger behind that glare.
"Trying to get me drunk!" Hermione said, "Ought to be ashamed!"
"Funny that I'm not." Ron finally letting go of the bottle after she grabbed it. "Drink up."
Ron pulled another ale out of the backpack, opened it, and chugged it down fast. He threw the bottle to the side of the trail.
"Littering?" Hermione asked.
"Sorry." Ron turned, aimed his wand, blasted and destroyed the bottle.
"Drink up," Ron said, "Waste of a good ale otherwise."
"You drink half," Hermione said.
"Alright," Ron said.
Ron grabbed her bottle, chugged a bit more than half, returned it. Hermione drank the rest of it, put the empty bottle into the backpack.
"You've got more body mass," Hermione said.
"Hey!" Ron exclaimed, "I'm not fat! But I love you!"
"You might want to stop with the drinking," Hermione said.
"I love you," Ron said.
"Sex?" Hermione said, "Is that—you're a boy and you'll suffocate without it."
"I do love you," Ron said, reaching to hug her tight.
Light had already begun to fade as Ron and Hermione approached the fork with the brook, the tent off to the right. They stopped, faced each other.
"Surely thought you'd bang," Hermione said.
"You want to?" Ron asked, spotted the uncertainty and doubt. He reached, held her hands. "Remember, friendship first."
They went up the stream, to where Harry and Gia were, sitting on camp chairs around the fire by the water.
Sunday, Ron watched as Kurt drove the car back along Oak Street. Where plywood was before, blocking off the study below Andy's bedroom, was floor to ceiling curved triple paned glass sticking six feet out from the orange firebrick, the study now visible. Ron got out first.
"Won't tell you the bribe to get them to work the weekend," Kurt said, "Likely not the last of the remodels inspired by Andrea. Should've seen the one that gave us that roof deck with the hot tub."
"It's safe?" Gia asked, getting out.
Ron approached the front door.
"Tempered glass," Kurt said, "Even droppng things from her window shouldn't harm it."
"Or gets another car," said Richard standing in the open front door.
"Need a shower," Hermione said, pushing past Ron.
"Dibs on the hot tub," Harry said.
Ron entered, followed Hermione up the stairs. He grabbed his book–bag from Gia's bedroom, went down the steps, and entered the study. Glass extensions held plants whose leaves traced down to the floor. More along the floor beneath the window.
"Wonder how long until it's stained?" Hermione asked, two steps behind Ron.
Ron pulled the sliding doors closed.
"Wish you'd encourage Harry to study properly," Hermione said, "He does have this Dark Wizard after him!"
Hermione sat on the dark brown leather sofa, sideways with her feet halfway.
"She's important too," Ron said.
Hermione pulled out her Transfiguration book first, Arithmacy second.
Monday morning in Gia's bedroom, Gia lifted her jumper above her head. A hoot from Hedwig.
"He's out running," Gia said.
Gia lifted her book–bag, and left the bedroom.
"Hermione!" came Ron's bellow, below.
"Hi!" came Harry's voice.
Richard came up first. Harry turned as Gia passed her.
"Um…" Gia muttered.
"What?" Harry asked.
Gia loitered, the several steps between them put crotch at eye level. Outline of the tent pole in his shorts hinted to his arousal beneath. She hesitated to speak, for a moment, knew those eyes to be peering into her.
"Thought you're trying to keep it secret," Gia offered.
"Oh," Harry muttered.
Gia heard the curse, twice, before it began to mellow. Harry followed Gia out the door.
"Need the charm?" Harry asked.
Cold air beneath the cloudy sky, the feeling of impending rain, she secured her jumper.
"I'll manage," Gia said.
"It's not snow," Harry said.
They stopped fast, as a black car with tinted windows ignored its red light, drove across the zebra crossing.
"Maybe tell Kurt the truth why you were late yesterday?" Gia asked as they crossed the road.
"Sure," Harry said, "He'd have me committed."
"Think they'd give us a room together?" Gia asked.
"Got a room, here," Harry said.
A right into the park, the cold dormant grass, the trees devoid of their leaves.
"We need a castle," Gia said.
"Going to clean it?" Harry asked.
"Hire a maid?" Gia asked.
"Then we gotta buy stuff for it," Harry said.
They walked along, came to the foot bridge behind the school, where they stopped.
"Would it even have a swimming pool for you?" Harry asked.
"Sure you could come up with something," Gia said.
Harry turned for her, Gia's butt against the handrail.
"Don't need all that," Harry said, "Go starkers—for life."
"Can't go starkers for school," Gia said.
"True," Harry muttered.
"You look better starkers," Gia said.
"Ta," Harry said.
"Seriously," Gia said, "I mean it."
Harry unzipped her jumper, let his hands in. She reached, held his hips. Both bottle green eyes fixed onto her eyes, and his hands massaged over them. He leaned in, kissed her, warmth came over her.
"You…" Gia muttered.
She felt the arousal pressed against her.
"Here?" Gia asked.
"Can't…" Harry muttered.
Gia knew the reasoning. Gia ignored the others that walked past them, the light breeze that tried to cool them. Their lips together, breaths shared between them.
Ring!
"Faster so you're not late," Harry said.
"I'd try starkers," Gia said, "Except I'd be cold when you're not around."
"Wonder…" Harry grabbed her hand, kissed at the ring of gold. "I'll ask Hermione."
"Starkers would be good," Gia said.
Harry grinned.
They kissed. Gia turned, entered the classroom, and heard the pop of Harry vanishing. No sooner than she sat that the intercom crackled to life.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
"Will Gia Marie Prescott please report to the office, you have an important message waiting for you."
"No mobile?" asked Lisa.
"Guess they didn't try," Gia said as she stood.
Gia left her book bag by the desk, went for the door. Clouds still above, a few breaks of sunshine a welcome relief from the dreary gray. Bird fluttered above, the distant rumbling of the motorway, and a couple of tardy students hastily making their way toward classrooms. A breeze, and Gia sneezed as she walked in front of another, frames of white around glass panes.
As if wrenched by the ring on her finger, Gia doubled over.
Whiz! Crack!
Small hole with many concentric rings of cracks paled to the screams from within the classroom. Gia took another step, a force to her feet and she fell, landed on her butt.
Whiz! Crack!
Another small hole formed, new concentric rings of cracks added to an intricate pattern on the glass. More screams came from within the classroom. Halfway back up, as if a kick, Gia fell forward, rolled onto her side.
Whiz!
A hole appeared in the timber of a nearby handrail. Gia rolled over to another portable facing the one with holes. Reflections of a man near the road, moved as he held something aimed.
Whiz! Crack!
A hole appeared in the window with the reflection, that man moved fast. Gia moved three feet to her left.
Whiz! Crack!
Another hole to that window, the screams within. Another three feet, this time the man had moved with a direct line of sight. Ring on her right hand flashed hot, she felt pushed to her right.
Whiz!
A hole to the to the left sleeve of her jumper. Man with the sniper rifle dropped magazine, reached for another. Gia went into the portable to her right. Though not really familiar with students within, being a year or two her junior, she recognized the teacher behind the lectern, with equations on the board. Mr. Williamson, her former chemistry teacher, now lecturing physics, turned his head to her.
"Mine—?" Mr. Williamson started.
"Someone's trying to kill me," Gia said.
Date: Fri Jul 21 08:40:23 2023