In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 97: Decision
Hoot!
"Sorry," Gia muttered.
Gia laid there on the bed, unsure to exactly how long she'd been under the covers, except the window wasn't utterly dark as morning was creeping in by the time Harry slowly warmed in front of her. A push against his skin as she ran her hand up his abdomen, the chest, no fat beneath; however, the warmth was there.
"How?" Harry muttered.
"Not the first time you've wound up mysteriously in my bed," Gia said. She kept her hand on his stomach.
"Thought you hated—" Harry started.
"Attitude, behavior, yes, not you," Gia said, "Thought you were mature enough to understand the difference, thought you could handle being scolded when you need it."
Harry fidgeted a bit against her, his back still against her chest.
"Rude to Lupin, rude to me," Gia said, "So I gave you a timeout and you ran!"
"Sorry…" Harry muttered.
"We've dated long enough that you know better," Gia said, "I need more, need to know why you ran off, why you're neglecting yourself, why you've been such a pain."
Harry squirmed, his hand bumped against hers.
"Calm down," Gia said, "Answer the damn question."
"Sorry, I…" Harry said, "Needed to think."
"More," Gia said, "After your stunt, more's needed."
"Wasn't…" Harry grumbled, squirmed.
"Shouldn't be tough," Gia said.
Harry wrenched a bit, pulled himself forward out of her arms, turned as he sat on the edge of the bed. Gia moved, sat next to him, a view over his chest.
"Do you still love me?" Gia asked.
"What sort of question's that?" Harry asked.
"One you should be able to answer," Gia said.
His head turned, those bottle green eyes.
"Of course I love you," Harry said.
"Show it, dammit!" Gia said, "Tell me what's going through your head, unless you're lying."
"I do care," Harry said, "I do care a lot about you."
Gia understood the shift, but went with it, and put her right hand on his shoulder.
"Show it," Gia said, "Or, do you plan to profess love, to care, only to off yourself the next moment? Suicide says the total opposite."
"Never said I tried that!" Harry protested.
"Really?" Gia said, "Do you even care about yourself?"
"What kind of question's that?" Harry demanded.
"One that's got to be asked," Gia said as she stood, "You tried it—again! Suicide's a problem, one you must discuss if you're as open as you claim to be."
"When?" Harry demanded, clear he was trying to deflect.
"I know!" Gia snapped. "Tell you what."
Gia glanced at Hedwig, the snowy white owl, knew the next bit to the toughest road she's traveled, hoped it to be the last time. She turned to the desk, his eyes in the mirror on her.
"I'm tired of the bullshit," Gia said. She grabbed the wand, the knife, on the dresser. "Tired of your arsed attitude, the omissions, the half truths, the lies. It's unfair to you, it's unfair to me, to spend any more time here just for you to sabotage it later today, tomorrow, next week, or whenever you feel like it."
"We're…?" Harry started.
"Out of respect for what we've had together," Gia said, "I'll make this easy, even for you, and give you choices."
Gia turned, tossed the wand, the knife, onto the bed next to Harry.
"Two ways to kill yourself, Ant demonstrated one," Gia said, "Wait until I return if you want to see me cry and agonize over it. I won't try to save you."
Harry glared at her as she removed the ring on her finger.
"Or, if you'd rather live without me," Gia tossed the ring on the bed, "Leave and never return."
Harry's glare continued.
"Or…this is the hardest one," Gia said, "If you're serious in your word, and you care about yourself, me, then you may stay and we'll continue. I expect full disclosure and cooperation from you, no protests."
"We're through?" Harry asked, his eyes blinked.
"We are if you say we are or intend to break your promises," Gia said, "Think it over, but that door's one way, so if you leave, we're history."
Gia grabbed the egg timer from her desk, began to twist it.
"You have thirty minutes to choose," Gia said.
Gia felt the tears already flowing as she closed the bedroom door, set the timer to thirty five minutes. She opened the lavatory door, Richard already there at the toilet. She set the timer on the counter, ducked behind Richard, and sat in the bathtub.
"I was about to use that!" Richard snapped.
Gia closed the drain, added the syrup, and turned the knobs. Cool then warm water transitioned to hot, the bubbly bath began to foam around her as the water level raised, immersing her in the warming water. Richard turned away before he stopped.
"Everything alright?" Richard asked.
Gia stared at him turning back, those hazel eyes watching her.
"Always be honest with Jen," Gia said, " "Tell her anything and everything—I don't really want to go into it."
"Can you hurry up so I can use that?" Richard asked.
"I intend to soak—read the timer," Gia said as her mind entertained the next thought, "Shower's open." Gia pointed to the end that was, with a foot of water in the basin.
"And if Ant barges…" Richard wept. "No longer have to worry about her."
"You hated her guts," Gia said, "You still loved her, in a way."
Richard bumped the timer.
"That's for—" Richard said.
"Harry's got a choice to make," Gia said, "I'm butting out until that dings."
"What type of choice?" Richard asked.
"Only choice there is," Gia said, "Sorry, want to … never mind."
Richard left the lavatory, and Gia let everything try to settle in her mind.
Ding!
Gia turned the tap for the hot water, tried to warm it up, a charm would be nice, and remained soaking in it. She hoped Ron and Hermione would understand what she left Harry to do.
…
An hour after the soak, Gia refilled her tea cup, hot water that took in more of the leaf juice. She stayed standing there in the kitchen, in front of Kristen in her police sweats.
"Harry's slick at the lies," Kristen said, "Well rehearsed, how'd you know he's not going to take you for another ride?"
"I don't think he wants to hurt me," Gia said, "Quite the opposite, but I'll need witness protection if he leaves, fake identification, passports, everything, try Australia or Canada or something."
Another ding of the timer.
"Suppose I can't keep putting this off," Gia said. She put the cup down.
"I can—" Kristen started.
"Stay," Gia said, "It's between me and him."
Gia went out of the kitchen, across the living room. Butterflies came to her stomach as she went up the stairs. Her fingers trembled on the door knob, uncertain the spectacle that laid beyond, the realization of whatever his choice was to be. She opened it.
"Hi."
She shut the door. Harry hadn't moved from where he'd sat earlier on the bed. Wand next to him, the hilt of the knife in his right hand, the hand against his left wrist, and the tip bloodied.
"Made your decision?" Gia asked, "A person downstairs is more than capable of evicting you."
"Death seemed so…seductive," Harry said, "One slice, no more Voldemort in my head, I'd meet my parents, end the pain I'm bringing everyone I know, and it still feels like the right answer, because announcing my death would save you. If I had managed it before, it'd save MacDonald, Hermione's cousin…but it's too easy. Also, it fucking hurts to stab myself."
"Killing curse?" Gia asked.
"Killed my parents," Harry said.
"How about what you did to those two last month?" Gia said, "When you turned their organs into vindaloo."
"Haven't a clue to what that is," Harry said, "Suppose Hermione might help me figure it out. Suspect it hurts…does it?"
"Internal organs tend to not have nerves like that," Gia said, "Guess we're wired to worry about our skin first."
A smirk.
"Cyanide," Gia said, "Might have some rat poison."
"Now you're suggesting ways to kill myself?" Harry asked.
"You haven't told me your decision," Gia said, "So, I'm assuming its suicide until you tell me otherwise."
Harry sighed.
"Not today," Harry said.
"Not ever," Gia said.
"I can't promise that," Harry said, "Could get way, way, worse—you've not seen it."
"Seen what?" Gia asked.
"Dunno what it was," Harry said, "Not a dream, like everything changed, everything dead or dying, and it was my fault."
Gia glanced at him, those bottle green eyes returned the watching to her.
"I flew…thought it'd help," Harry said, "Dunno, like they pulled me in, had to see it, everything dead or dying. The nightmares…it's tough to want to live when everybody wants me dead."
Gia moved, sat down next to him, took his left hand. Wrist cut across, though only a slow ooze.
"If suicide's out," Gia said, "You're leaving?"
Harry stared down at the dresser, the floor.
"No life if I did," Harry said, brought the knife to his left wrist, "I'd finish this by tonight."
"Staying?" Gia asked.
"I'd like to," Harry said.
"Agree to my terms?" Gia said, "Talk to me if you even think of suicide, allow me to help, and talk to me about everything?"
Harry nodded.
"I can't do this alone either," Gia said, "Willing to work with Ron?"
A glare.
"Or somebody else?" Gia said, "Kristen's got contacts."
Harry turned his head forward again, the concave chest with the ribs that about showed in the skin.
"That'd be worse," Harry said, "Start by explaining a big bad wizard's out to get me?"
"Ron?" Gia asked, again.
"Alright, alright!" Harry said, "Yes, better than Dumbledore."
Gia pressed on the cut, the drop of blood came to her finger. She lifted and tasted it, the metallic taste.
"You seemed to have some to spare and I was curious," Gia said, "Does it give me magic?"
Harry shook his head. She held his wrist, the pressure against his wound.
"I know your life's not easy with him attacking, picking on you," Gia said, "Do understand I'm willing to help, I'll stand with you, so will Ron and Hermione."
"Voldemort's after me," Harry said, "Killing, think about all those that've died, all those that'd be alive today if Voldemort had been successful that first time."
"You're focused on the past," Gia said, "Those lives…they're already lost."
"Not helping," Harry said.
Her right hand moved to his crotch.
"Focus on the future," Gia said, "The one you plan for yourself, and the lives that you can save, today, tomorrow. Focus on that, and I think our relationship has a future, understand?"
Her right hand massaged inward.
"It's still dangerous," Harry said.
"I know," Gia said, "If you're killed, let them have a hard time at it. If I go, it's unlikely a world I want to live in. I've already accepted the risks, that's not changed. I trust you to keep me safe as best you can, but I know it can still fail. If you fail and decide to fall on your blade after my death, that'll be your decision."
Harry's bottle green eyes, still turned, with the twinkling that assessed her words.
"But, to break off a relationship to spare my life?" Gia continued, "You're spare if you think for a moment that's you're that important to their plans, that they'd actually stop altogether if you're gone? I don't think it works like that. I have already placed my life into your hands, that means that your problems are also my problems."
Harry sighed, glanced forward.
"Your behavior made me uncomfortable," Gia said, "Intimacy has to wait. Understand?"
Harry nodded, focused forward.
"Voldemort laughed," Harry said, "He wants to steal even more, maybe he's the one pushing me."
Gia rotated, turned herself toward Harry. Her hand went up to his chin, brought his head back to face hers.
"Resist and focus on me," Gia said, "Make…him…work. Make him pay, for everything he's stolen, for everything he intends to steal. Do not surrender and hand him victory on a silver platter."
"Defeat?" Harry asked.
"Sure," Gia said, "You can certainly defeat him with a silver platter. Can you whack him over the head with it?"
Harry snorted, snickered. Gia massaged his back between the shoulders.
"When you're feeling down, remember this," Gia said, "You're worth it to me. You're worth it to that red head that's dragged you back time and time again. You're worth it to the witch treating your hypothermia, didn't she help you save your balls?"
"She did," Harry said.
"There's many more," Gia said, "Hagrid? Dumbledore? Sirius? Lupin? Moody? Fred? George? Percy? What about them?"
Harry sighed.
"I can't count all those that love you," Gia said, "You're more wanted than you realize."
Gia's hands held both his shoulders from behind.
"And I'm happy to give you the sales pitch any time you need it," Gia said.
Harry snorted.
"And I'm more than late for school," Gia said, "Even skipped yesterday."
"Sorry," Harry said.
Gia stood, put on her protective vest, began to dress.
"Walking?" Harry asked.
"Thinking of asking Kristen," Gia said.
"Fly?" Harry asked.
"Maybe," Gia said as she dressed.
Harry grabbed the simple gold ring, stood.
"Please put this back on," Harry said, "It…I think it's what lets me know when you do need help."
"It does act weird at times," Gia said.
"Does more than I realized," Harry said, "Still, want to know if you're alright or not, you know, in case they come after you, which is likely."
"You're able to handle this?" Gia said, "Telling me everything? Because I'm not a witch, I have to rely on you to tell, I have to trust you for my protection." She fingered the ring. "Doubt it'd go away with a breakup, they'd still kill me, right?"
"About guaranteed," Harry grumbled.
"I fell in love with a boy, we couldn't keep our hands off each other," Gia said, "I don't want them telling us we can't. Do you?"
Harry shook his head.
"That's my point," Gia said, "Work on what you need to so this doesn't have to come off."
Harry nodded.
"Alright," Gia said as she slipped the ring on.
Harry grabbed his wand, banished that in, grabbed his broom from the desk.
"I do better when I fly," Harry said, "And they ain't looking up."
"For now," Gia said.
"For now is better than nothing," Harry said.
Gia slung the bookbag over her shoulder, got on behind as Harry mounted the broom. She held on. The window opened, his wand out, and she felt the tingle from the charm, and he flew them both out. Up over the trees, she spotted the yellow dots below, the ones that would've made it an obstacle course to travel.
"Any in flight meals?" Gia asked.
"Sure," Harry said, "You catch it."
Ashton lane beneath, over the footbridge, they landed in the football pitch behind the school. Harry pulled, they went between the white portable classrooms. To the door, Harry opened it for her, and she slipped in, the history lesson that never seemed to end. Harry left, and her disillusion broke the moment she sat in the back. Richard in the next seat, leaned over.
"Psst," Richard whispered, "Found this for Harry."
Gia grabbed the yellow and black book, the title, Yoga for Dummies.
"Might help with Harry's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder," Richard whispered.
A stern glance from the teacher, Gia tried to pay attention, but instead, found herself skimming the book, that is until the fatigue started to catch up with her, and she began to drift in and out of a nap, dreaming of Harry and her worries about him.
…
Harry renewed his disillusionment charm before he flew back up, from the school, and headed south by south east. Unsure to the speed, the trees and pastures went fast beneath him, the late morning sun, not threatened by a few wisps of clouds, threw the welcome heat against his skin. Minutes to the water, and he pressed forward.
A seagull flew, and Harry slowed down, watched the bird that flapped its wings, turned around, headed for the shore. Harry pressed forward, across the English Channel. Minutes later, the beaches returned, the land. A vague desire, Harry flew until the civilization returned beneath him, spotted it in the distance.
Cars, trains and the roads and tracks beneath him, the river Seine that snaked back and forth, Harry went for it. Between the first and second platforms, Harry flew between the four pillars of the Eiffel Tower. A fast renewal of his Disillusionment Charm, Harry dove for a second pass, beneath the arches, and headed north.
Harry flew between the pillars to the Arc de Triomphe, and kept flying. Harry kept his eyes wide, scanned to the horizon as he flew, no sign of what he'd seen the previous nights. Back across the English Channel, he pushed forward, spotted the Thames. Up the river, underneath the tower bridge, Harry flew along the river, a normal flight to Waterloo, when he pulled up.
Honk!
Cars below. A curse that flew, and Harry renewed his disillusionment. Past Buckingham Palace, Harry turned right around, before Kensington Palace, back for Charing Cross. A rise, a spot, the aberration, and Harry entered it. Below, Diagon Alley, sirens that began to blare, and he pulled up, out. Harry continued on, in front of Whitehall, a left toward Waterloo, and he headed south.
Harry felt the sense of disappointment, almost, unable to see any of those threads of the previous nights, unable to explore them, unable to determine if they were important or not. Fast, Harry returned to Noigate, found Oak Street, and entered the open window.
Hoot!
Harry spun around, stroked Hedwig's feathers, gave her an owl treat. A banishment of the broom back to his holster, Harry reached for the knife still on the bed. Desire still there, he took it, threw it underneath the bed. A clang before it stopped. He grabbed his book–bag, left the bedroom.
"Everything alright?" asked Kristen in the living room, Paul in her arms, the bottle to the side, as Paul cried.
Harry lifted Paul up, into his arms, grabbed the bottle, and nursed him, the smile. A smile Harry needed, and he put Paul back down into her arms, stuck the bottle there, and went into the dining room. Books out, the sorting hat out, Harry sat down, and began to go through his homework.
That afternoon, Harry carried Paul up the stairs, Kristen with him, and a hard right into the green bedroom, the one that used to be Andy's, to the changing table in the bay window, rain outside. Harry laid Paul down on the table.
"Pretty simple," Kristen said, "Remove the old nappy."
Paul struggled a bit as Harry worked the tabs. Harry pulled the nappy away, rolled it up, dumped it into the trash.
"Clean," Kristen said.
Harry took a wipe, wondered if a cleaning charm would go amiss here.
"Bit of powder for good luck," Kristen said.
Harry dusted it down from the bottle.
"And the new one," Kristen said.
Harry opened the wrapping, lifted Paul as he slid it beneath. Harry pulled it through, worked the tabs together.
"With that new skill," Kristen said, "You'll make Gia very happy when your time comes, because it's way better spreading the job around, so long as it doesn't hit the fan."
"It'd be a blessing if this were the worst thing in my life," Harry said.
Harry picked Paul up, glanced at the clock, and handed him over to Kristen.
"Need to get her," Harry said.
"I can drive!" Kristen offered.
"You have him." Harry tickled Paul's cheeks. "Besides, I can get there and bring her back faster, safer, than you can."
"How?" Kristen asked.
Harry went out, took the left down the stairs. A thought, Harry disapparated. Into darkness, mostly darkness, of the auditorium, empty of everybody except for one other. Harry walked the steps, to the seat with the blonde hair. Gia's eyes closed, head slumped to the side. Harry reached, felt the pulse.
"Gia?" Harry asked, his hands shook her shoulders.
"What?" Gia stammered as her blue eyes opened, "Harry!"
Her eyes on him.
"Slipped in for a short nap at lunch," Gia said, "Guess I overslept."
"Sorry about that," Harry said, understanding why she was tired, it was him.
Gia stood. Harry leaned in, kissed her. A glance to the blue eyes.
"If we can't kiss," Harry said, "We've got big problems."
"Careful," Gia said.
"I'll take your sales pitch anytime," Harry said, his eyes downward toward her chest. He grinned, leaned in, hugged her. "Mean it, every time."
"You're not going—?" Gia started.
"It's likely not going to go away, not in full," Harry said, keeping the hug tight, "I'd love the reminders."
"You're definitely trying," Gia said.
"Remember the boy you couldn't keep your hands off?" Harry said, "Lets stay there, if we can."
Gia smiled, kissed back.
"Nobody's here," Harry said, "The stage."
Gia lifted her bookbag. Harry led her down the aisle, up the steps. A wave, the pair of sofas, facing back to back, appeared. Harry laid down on the one toward the audience, Gia laid down on the other.
"Doctor, doctor," Harry said, "This big evil madman's after me."
"Have you tried yoga?" Gia asked, handed the book over, the Yoga for Dummies.
"Yoga?" Harry said, "He's killing everything, and we're going to…"
Harry flipped through the pages, the positions.
"A consultant," Gia said, "Dr. Richard suggested it."
"Consultants, great," Harry muttered, "Enough of those."
"All that killing," Gia said, "Might give you Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, some people swear that yoga helps with that. Worst outcome, new positions to experiment with while banging."
Harry glanced at the contortions, wondered how that'd work, though some seemed good for advertising the important bits.
"Dr. Richard suggested a studio, not too far," Gia said, "They can supervise, help us learn, and not injure ourselves doing so."
"Hmm…." Harry muttered.
Ring!
"Should go out, show my face," Gia said, "So they know I didn't slip in the locker room."
Harry stood, handed the book back to her, and waited. Both sofas vanished and she picked up the bag. Up the aisle, they went outside, the rain that poured.
"Nobody's looking for us in this," Harry said.
Water that drenched them both. They headed for the path.
"Go the quicker way," Harry said, "Go home."
"Know where the studio is?" Gia asked.
Harry shook his head. Gia waved. Harry's wand out, the rain that dripped from it.
"No!" Gia snapped, "Tired of being invisible."
Gia pointed at the other students going for the footpath.
"We're targets," Harry said.
Harry pulled her into the shelter of a porch to a classroom. His eyes on her, and his hands to her shoulders.
"You made it clear, you're accepting the risk, trusting me to protect you," Harry said, "Then let me, might not work, but let me do my dammest to protect you. We are targets, so if anything strikes while we walk with them, it's casualties."
"Don't think so negatively," Gia said.
"I have to," Harry said, "You insist on walking, that's fine, but this rain doesn't feel right. We've got prices on our heads, and nobody's giving a damn about the bystanders."
Harry flicked the wand in his hand, the disillusionment charm shrouded them both. Harry kept his wand out in his hand as they walked. Between the classrooms, their feet sank into the soggy grass, and returned to the footpath toward the footbridge.
"That was a lot of rain," Gia said.
Ahead, the creek swollen, the waters threatened the footbridge, trees along the side ready for a swim.
"As long as it holds," Harry said.
Harry focused on that other bank of the creek, a worry came to him. A whistling filled their ears, though Harry couldn't find its source. Feet on the pavement slowed as they approached that footbridge, and a second whistle.
"Accio Wand!"
Harry's wand flew out of his grip, the disillusionments failed, and the holly wand flew across the bridge, into the grip of a boy in matching canary yellow trousers and jumper, the boy twirled the new wand as he stood there.
"Violation of the SDWCA," that boy said, "Enforce it."
Harry lunged, about to apparate, instead a trip to Harry's feet, a second boy appeared to the side. Gia moved into a run, and a third boy grabbed her.
"Hold them still!" the first boy said, "Very still Brisley, Bastwick."
Harry's wand aimed at Harry, the words to the lips.
"With pleasure Oxwick," said Bastwick, his grip hard, the pain that came to Harry, the Cruciatus.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Oxwick, that first boy shouted.
Harry wrenched before the curse finished, slipped the grip, apparated to the ground. Green struck Bastwick.
SNAP!
Harry heard it, from Brisley, folded Gia's upper right arm, the bones that started to protrude. He felt her pain inside him.
"Imperio!" Oxwick, that first boy, shouted at Harry.
Harry bolted after Brisley dragging Gia along the footpath.
"Accio!" Oxwick shouted.
Gia flew out of Brisley's arms, across the bridge. Harry ran toward Oxwick, Brisley tripped Harry, and Harry flew over the side of the bridge into the creek.
BOOM, WHIZ
Blades flew from where Harry tripped, an explosion that tore the bridge in the middle. Several blades impaled themselves into trees, and cut them down. Another blade flew, missed Gia and severed Brisley's neck. Brisley fell, his head rolled. Another blade flew at Oxwick, that right arm severed, the wand carrying hand dropped. Oxwick collected the bloodied arm, disapparated. Harry swam toward the Ashton Lane edge of the creek, climbed onto the bank.
"Please, please," Harry said as he ran toward her, Gia on the ground.
"Gia! Gia!" Harry shook her as she moaned.
"Harry?" Gia asked, "Bloke busted my arm."
Harry grabbed his wand, summoned over the two from the others.
"Have you to the hospital, get it set there," Harry said, "Hermione's the healer, so she'll fix it after that."
Sirens in the distance approached fast. Harry held her, closed his mind, focused, focused hard, and they apparated into the maintenance closet and stumbled over the mop. Harry opened the door, brought her as fast as she could run to the Accident and Emergency, to the triage nurse.
"Broken arm," Harry said, to her, pointed to the bloodied spot of the bone that protruded.
"Name?" the nurse asked.
"Gia Whitefield," Harry said.
"Please have a seat," the nurse said.
Unsure to the ire behind her eyes, Harry figured it best to go along. He brought Gia to the chair, sat her down, and waited in the near empty room.
"Alright!" Gia said, "You were right. We should've taken the fast way."
Harry stashed the wands into his holster, as an old man in white came out. Harry recognized the doctor, McCoy.
"Compound—why's she sitting?" McCoy asked, "Come with me."
Harry lifted Gia, helped her up, and they walked with the man back into an examination room. Gia hopped up onto table. A wand out in the doctor's hand, Harry's in his.
"I had hoped you wouldn't mind the faster way," the doctor said.
Harry studied those eyes.
"Hogwarts class of 1887, Hufflepuff," McCoy said, "I subscribe to the Hippocratic Oath and ignore orders of non–treatment."
Harry relaxed, his hand down.
"Sorry about that," Harry said, "Enough money to make me jumpy."
That doctor took the wand, ran it over Gia's right arm, the bones began to go back together.
"I sympathize," the doctor said, "I've seen the filth in The Daily Prophet. The young and naive might be convinced, but not an old healer who's witnessed campaigns of the past."
"Thank you," Harry said, "Didn't realize…"
"With the price on your head?" the doctor said, "Don't know who to trust, except when a muggleborn baby arrives. I recognized that reaction."
"Kristen and Kurt have their hands full," Gia said, "Weren't expecting that."
"It's…nice," Harry said.
Harry unsure to Gia's glance.
"So what?" Harry said, "Changed his nappy."
Doctor McCoy ran the wand again over the arm.
"Seems good," the doctor said, "Didn't delay on seeking treatment, nor did you do anything stupid like apparating here with her, that'd be fatal."
Harry glanced at those eyes, the ones certain that it would be.
"And," the doctor continued, "Tell the muggles it was a hairline fracture, if you need an excuse. Expect some soreness for the rest of the evening, if it's not better in the morning, come back."
A knock to the door.
"Busy," the doctor shouted.
It opened, the nurse of before, two men in canary yellow. Harry pulled Gia off the table, behind him, wand in his hand.
"You!" Harry snapped at the doctor.
"Leave," the doctor barked.
Harry spotted the wands in hands and heard a snap. Wood of the door moved off it's hinges, went toward Harry, grew as it wedged him and Gia into the corner. Flashes of green.
"NO!" came a shout.
Harry held Gia's hand, disapparated. Through the tube, a contortion, Harry struggled for a moment, focused.
"Ouch," Gia muttered as they apparated into her bedroom.
Cut to her finger, Harry's wand in hand, aimed.
"Restitue Salus," Harry said.
Skin returned.
"Harry," Gia said, her hands to his shoulders, her eyes on his, "You did as you had to do, you kept me safe, alright?"
"That was close," Harry grumbled.
"Safe," Gia said, "Focus on that—those blokes got what they deserved, almost, one got away, right?"
"Yeah," Harry grumbled.
"Kept mentioning apparation isn't safe," Gia said.
"I know," Harry said, he went for the leather backpacks.
Harry opened them, went down, grabbed Apparation Theory from the shelf, went through it as Gia climbed down.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
What can Apparate? Not Muggles.
A common dilemma with Muggleborns or mixed marriage, is the realization that Apparation can provide a simple and effective means of transportation. Simply put, Muggles cannot Apparate, nor can they use Floo Powder or Portkeys on their own. Apparation causes stress and trauma on any object, which is sufficient to kill any living being. However, the magic used during Apparation binds a protection onto the wizard or witch thereby permitting the Apparation to commence; when the wizard or witch is weak (ie. sick, injured, etc), the binding magic may fail resulting in a splinch.
In the cases of Floo Powder and Portkeys, the stresses are survivable by a Muggle, but these methods may only be initiated by a wizard or witch.
"Damn!" Harry exclaimed.
Gia leaned into him, her hands to his shoulders, and she massaged.
"Introductory," Gia said, "Anything more authoritative? Those Ministry handbooks?"
Harry turned around, those blue eyes, sometimes the simplest answers were the best. He glanced at the ring on her finger, wondered if that did something, let him take her along, however, that wouldn't explain being able to do it with Richard. Harry put Apparation Theory back to the shelf, moved over to the bigger ones, and grabbed Ministry: Transportation. He thumbed through it.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Apparation of Muggles
Muggles cannot apparate in the strictest sense, but there is a technique that mimics the effect. Usage of this is strongly discouraged and is prohibited to be taught outside of official Ministry affairs. Usage is not encouraged, however, there are occasions where an evacuation of the muggle (law enforcement, etc) is necessary and no other methods are available.
The trick involves turning the wizard or witch (you) into a sticky Portkey allowing the muggle to accompany you during the Apparation. The enchantment, "portaviscos," must be stated just prior to your Apparation, the muggle must hold onto you, and the effects wears off immediately upon arrival.
Update 1825: Splinching is fatal to the Muggle.
Update 1890: Memory Charm must subsequently be used on the muggle.
Update 1970: Prior approval from the Minister of Magic is required.
Update 1972: Usage is prohibited.
"So it is possible," Harry said, "My magic—it must be doing that. Ron keeps saying the rules don't apply to me, likely the case here."
Harry put the handbook back, and they went up the ladder, back into the bedroom.
Hoot!
Harry went over to Hedwig, stroked a couple of her feathers, when a familiar cry came.
"I'll get it!" Harry shouted.
Harry walked fast, into the green bedroom, to the crib with Paul in it. He lifted the boy, summoned the bottle over into his hand, applied the warming charm, and lifted it. Harry watched the suckling from the teat, his smile to both their faces.
"Have to teach you to get your own milk," Harry said to Paul.
Paul stopped. Harry lifted the boy to the shoulder, the skin against skin, and gave a fast tap to the back.
Burp
Gia snorted, watched. A giggle, the cry returned. Harry sniffed, understood, put Paul down on the changing table. Harry undid the tabs, disposed of the old, wiped, and put the new one on. Harry lifted, held Paul until the eyes drifted asleep. Harry laid Paul back down into the crib, onto the back. A tap of the mobile that dangled above, it moved; Harry wondered if the muggles would notice a magical one, or where that was even sold in Diagon Alley.
"Gotchya," Gia whispered.
Gia pinned Harry to the wall, next to the crib, those blue eyes on his, the lips that came together.
"Got a dream for you," Gia said, "After Voldemort's gone, we go in, you give what was denied to you. Be a Dad."
"I…" Harry started, a tear to his face.
"Every time that devil puts that bad idea into you," Gia said, "Think of being a father to a family, make that your goal. Think that'd work?"
"Yes," Harry said.
Harry kissed Gia.
Date: Thu Jan 4 09:53:35 2024