In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 93: Card Club
Kristen grabbed the coffee pot Friday morning, lifted, and watched it pour the rest of it into her large travel mug. Heeding her own sign in the break room, she took out the top, dropped the filter into the rubbish, replaced it.
"Need something stronger?" asked Frank as he entered.
"I am the chief around here," Kristen said as she added more grounds, "I'm supposed to be the role model, yet, all the issues in town now seem to revolve around my house."
"On the bright side," Frank said, "Justifies our jobs."
Kristen glared at him.
"Sorry, bad taste," Frank said.
"Really bad," Kristen said as she pressed the button.
Percolation and simmering began. She added the creamer to her mug, the sugar, stirred.
"How bad were they?" Kristen asked.
"I've asked for recalibration," Frank said, "They ought to be dead, we'll find out when they wake."
"Drunk? That's it?" Kristen asked.
"Basically," Frank said, "Their newspaper…could've sworn it moved."
"Should check what you've added to your cup?" Kristen asked, moved for the door.
"Can't say I wouldn't drink after that," Frank said.
"You don't drink," Kristen said.
"I'd likely start," Frank said.
Kristen entered her office, a man already there. Graying light brown hair, the shabby suit, unsure if she ought to call a doctor for him, though she'd seen him before.
"Heard Harry got a bit…" the man said.
"Sorry, didn't catch the name," Kristen said as she set her mug down on the desk.
"Remus Lupin," Lupin said, hand extended for a shake. "Friend of Harry's parents."
"Who're dead," Kristen said.
"In their memory, I look out for their son," Lupin said, "Or at least try, like you do."
"Were those pictures accurate?" Kristen asked, "The funny ones?"
"Can't say anybody should be proud," Lupin said, "Punishments turned into a spectacle, their humiliation."
"I'm taking them out of that cult," Kristen said as she sat in her desk.
"Hmmm… cult works," Lupin said, hand to the desk, "Unfortunately there's no way to leave it, based on a certain talent."
"Pretend he doesn't have it," Kristen said.
She watched those sullen eyes, ones that seemed older for his age.
"He tried, is trying," Lupin said, "Not going to work that easily. Those after him won't let him."
"With his blood alcohol levels," Kristen said, "He might've found a way."
"Made of sterner material," Lupin said, "You'll want me around when he wakes up."
"He's in lockup," Kristen said.
"Your bars won't hold him there," Lupin said, "His respect for us will."
Kristen wondered about that.
Hermione woke up to a headache, on the hard pad, the concrete around her.
"Hermione," Gia said, nearby, "You are Hermione, right?"
"Think so," Hermione said, feeling up her soaked blouse. "Go for another?"
Hermione sat up, she was behind one set of bars, Gia behind the other. Footsteps. Kristen in her police uniform, entered, Lupin with her.
"Not exactly good," Hermione said.
"How would you describe it?" Lupin asked.
"Harry?" Gia asked.
"Still sleeping it off—maybe you should consider separate arrangements for the weekend," Kristen said, "Anyways, you've got school to worry about."
"Need to…" Gia started.
"We have a shower," Kristen said, unlocking her cell first.
"Mind escorting her?" Lupin asked Hermione.
"Releasing you on your own recognizance," Kristen said, "Means I'll want to talk about this at home, can I trust you there?"
Hermione nodded. A click of the lock, the door opened. Kristen pointed, and Hermione walked with Gia. Lupin followed. Hermione went with Gia, to the doors that went outside.
"Frank can—" Kristen started.
"Know the way," Hermione said.
A step outside, Hermione's wand out, the disillusionment charm, the SEP to herself, Gia.
"Boys have a lecture in store," Hermione said, "Trust them to come up with stupid ideas. Separate arrangements indeed, might be the best."
"I read enough," Gia said, "Can't say I blame them, or you for that matter, the self–medication was appropriate."
Harry felt the hard concrete beneath him as he woke, the coldness of his wet trousers soaked in urine, smelled the stale vomit puddles not too far away. Through the bars to the next cell, the red hair of Ron also on the floor begin to move.
"Jail?" Harry muttered.
"Hey Kristen!" came the shout, "One's awake!"
Harry's head throbbed as he sat up, placed his hand to his forehead, wondered if it'd be better to have his scar act up.
"My head…" Harry moaned.
Black boots to the other side of the bars, to the officer who stood watch. A door next to that man opened. Red hair moved, Ron sat up. More boots, the silver metal to her uniform, Kristen entered.
"Given your blood alcohol levels," Kristen said, "Surprised you're not vegetables."
Lupin followed her in, and Harry stood. Ron also stood in that other cell.
"Gia?" Harry asked, "Hermione?"
"Woke up in time for school," Kristen said, "Your being drunk, and underage for most of what you drank, that's my current concern."
"And mine," Lupin said.
"Read the paper," Ron said to Lupin, "You'd understand why."
Harry spotted it in her eyes, she'd seen bits of it, they hadn't exactly hid The Daily Prophet from anybody the previous night.
"Why'd you come?" Harry demanded of Lupin.
"Your godfather got worried when you weren't home," Lupin said, "So, I tracked down the son of James. Some people still do care about what happens to you."
Harry stared at him, though his feet didn't want to stay standing.
"As you're conscious," Kristen said, "Let you head home, where we'll talk this over. Do not make a fool of me."
Harry nodded, as did Ron.
"Let her use the key," Lupin suggested.
Harry caught it in her eye, not understanding he didn't need the door opened.
"Got a car—" Kristen said.
"They'll be home before you leave the room," Lupin said.
Harry caught the puzzled look, waited as she opened the cell for Ron. Ron and Harry went fast, out the other door, and disapparated.
"You two reek and area a mess," said Hermione as Harry and Ron apparated into the bedroom. "Seriously."
Harry glanced at her, sitting on the bed, a book that laid flat open in front of her, however, her hand wafted past her nose.
"Shower," Ron suggested.
Harry turned for the photographs, the one of him, and the squirming bit behind it.
"Suppose—put these back in," Harry said, "Gia'll like that."
"And a healing charm," Hermione said, "As to him—" she pointed at Ron, "Too much to do now, you'll have to wait."
Ron went for the shower, returned, Harry went and returned.
"Kristen's home," Hermione said, "She wants to talk to us."
An owl dropped a letter into Ron's hands, and he opened it.
"Percy's handwriting," Ron said, "But he didn't sign."
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Ron and Harry,
Overheard, legislation in the works to let the committee issue ASBOs that are legally binding. Umbridge wants to separate you, best have plans to not be cohabitating.
"Blimey," Harry muttered.
"After yesterday's show?" Ron said, "Bit of a break might be good, still friends."
"Yeah," Harry said.
"Kristen," Hermione said.
Harry went out, down the stairs. Ron and Hermione behind him, into the living room. Lupin in his usual tattered suit in one arm chair. Kristen with her police uniform, in the other. Both Lupin and Kristen had their eyes on Harry.
"Bit young to pick up a drinking problem," Kristen said, "A beer with the meal is acceptable, but you went into harder liquor and more beers than is reasonable for your age."
"Still needed it," Ron said, stood next to Harry.
Hermione sat on the sofa.
"Normally," Kristen said, "People regret their actions about now."
Lupin chuckled, Kristen glared at him.
"Sorry," Lupin said, "Padfoot defended James years ago."
"James?" Kristen asked.
"James Potter," Lupin said, "Though I can't disagree with the need to self–medicate, after…after that."
Kristen's eyes, ones that pondered the words, ones that remembered the sight of the paper, and Harry's bum on its front page.
"Manslaughter convictions?" Kristen said, "I pulled up your records."
"Without a proper trial," Harry said, "They're not bothering to investigate—girl shows up dead at school, and they decide to read the paper instead of doing any proper forensics."
"They were bribed," Ron stated.
"Bribery's very serious," Kristen said.
"Our…cult," Hermione said, "Misgoverns itself—I'd love to bring you in to investigate, you'd be far better than anything afforded to us."
Kristen sipped from a coffee mug.
"Thank you for that confidence," Kristen said, "While I can appreciate being misaligned, having convicted rapists, killers, beneath this roof isn't appealing."
"If you're investigating anybody," Harry said, "Start with Tom Marvolo Riddle—he's the man who murdered my parents, he's the man's that after me. He's the mastermind."
"Getting her killed?" Lupin asked Harry.
Harry realized the alarm in both eyes. Lupin's that was disturbed by a muggle prying in. Kristen's that worried about their confidence in the assertion. Lupin's searched for a distraction.
"I wish you didn't resort to drinking," Lupin said.
"Can you say you wouldn't?" Harry snapped.
"Unfortunately or more fortunately," Lupin said, "Nobody can say yes or no."
Kristen sipped at her coffee.
"Drinking does not solve problems," Kristen said, "Expect some community service from this. Wish you'd felt more confident in sharing things with me."
"Betrayal cost him his parents," Lupin said.
"I do care about those under this roof," Kristen said, "I can help."
"No offense," Harry said, "I wanted to leave that crap there, not bring it here."
"Please keep me up to date," Kristen said.
Lupin stood, approached Harry and Ron.
"About time to … nothing stressful," Lupin said, "Still, responsible adults can be had at my place."
"What's the fun in that?" Harry asked.
A snicker.
"I gotta… Gia," Harry said.
"We'll go," Hermione said.
Ron and Harry went up the stairs first, into Gia's bedroom.
"Know what she'll say," Ron said.
"After yesterday," Harry said, "Nothing else, please."
Hand to Harry's shoulder, a nod. Harry disapparated, he apparated into the corner of the classroom, Gia at her desk. Harry went over, the desk widened to fit him, and he leaned into her.
…
Ron stood there as Harry disapparated.
"Still think it was worth it?" Hermione snapped as she entered.
"We needed it," Ron said, "We truly did."
Ron grabbed the strap of his book–bag, the shoulder sore as he looped it over. Ron took out his journal, stuck the picture from the desk into it, and returned the leather bound book.
"Hopeful?" Hermione asked.
"You know it can't work otherwise," Ron said.
Ron took out his Portkey. Scarlet and yellow, Fawkes flew onto Ron's shoulder. Ron activated the Portkey, Hermione held on, a jerk behind the navals, they landed in Lupin's living room. Fawkes flew, landed next to the fireplace.
"Thank you," Lupin said, standing near the window, "Should've said it was at noon."
Hermione went to the window.
"Fine," Ron said, "We'll go back."
"Um…first," said Arthur Weasley, in a chair toward the other side, "Understand your Mother would be writing a Howler right about now."
"Read the paper," Ron snapped.
"You won the pool," Lupin said to Arthur.
Arthur stood, came over to Ron, put the hand to Ron's shoulder. Ron recoiled from the pain, those knuckles massaged into it.
"Ron," Arthur said, "Let's talk."
Ron understood that look, a rare one before his Mum had passed, one that'd become a bit more common. Ron followed him up the steps, into a small study. Ron's wand out, he cast his own Imperturbment Charm onto the door, on top of his father's. Arthur blinked.
"I'm of age!" Ron protested.
"Not what I meant," Arthur said, "Though it's good to see you've moved beyond enchantments."
Ron watched those blue eyes, similar to his brothers, ones that observed his stature.
"Getting drunk wasn't great—anything could've happened," Arthur said, "Don't want to see you compromise your principles now that you're under siege."
Ron glared, the concern obvious, though still working out his father's ultimate goal here.
"You've grown and there's never enough time," Arthur said, "Bit of family, Ginny's coming home for the weekend, and I'd love to see you a bit more."
"Plenty of pictures in The Daily Prophet," Ron stated, crossed his arms.
Ron kept his glare.
"Meant coming home, to the end of the suspension," Arthur said, "You and your lovely Hermione stay with us, your old man, your twin brothers, and Edward. A holiday with family."
"I, like, have studies, classes," Ron asked.
"Not saying to abandon those," Arthur said.
"Missing me?" Ron said, "Hmm…. Harry…"
"He can survive," Arthur said, "What do you say?"
"I'll ask Hermione," Ron said.
Ron kept his focus on those eyes, ones that judged him as a son, ones that reminded of another brother.
"Percy's staying in contact with you?" Arthur asked.
"Loads of fun auditing and playing by the rules," Ron said.
"At least he's talking to somebody," Arthur said.
"Even have the case file for MacDonald," Ron said.
"Let's see if Dumbledore is early," Arthur said as he turned around.
A breaking of the enchantments, the door opened, and they went down the stairs, into the living room. Dumbledore at an arm chair, the blue twinkling eyes. Hermione on an armless chair near the coffee table.
"Two Weasleys is a blessing," Dumbledore said.
"Could always be three," Lupin said, "Even four."
Ron blushed, the implication, his eyes to Hermione's, knew his face to be going pink.
"He's fixed," Arthur said.
"Not before yesterday," Hermione said.
"What?!" Ron stammered, "Thought you—"
"Pulling your leg," Hermione said, smile to her face.
"Not funny," Ron said, though Dumbledore chuckled.
"Ron," Arthur said, "That file?"
Ron went to his book–bag, pulled it out, Percy's letter, handed it over to the Headmaster.
"Thank you for sharing Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said.
Ron went over, stared out the window.
"History's repeating itself," Dumbledore said, "Unfortunately."
Ron watched the tug that moved along the inlet, the gray clouds above.
"Trend's the same?" Arthur asked, "Right?"
"Wish I could refute that," Dumbledore said.
"Minister's…" Hermione started.
"Like it's popular to say a Dark Wizard is coming," Ron said.
"Chertsey denied it," Arthur said, "Killing the messengers doesn't change the fact it's happening, in fact, makes it worse."
"A delay that's fatal," Hermione said.
"Possibly yes," Arthur said, "Chertsey hushed the attacks until he was forced to acknowledge it. A delay that cost him his job, his political career, and even his life—though You–Know–Who supposedly thanked Chertsey before killing him."
A ruffling of the parchment, Ron turned as Dumbledore glanced up from it.
"Autopsy conforms to Poppy's findings—though not to the culprit," Dumbledore said, "Allegations of bribery are disturbing."
"Arithmacy was always Percy's strongest subject," Arthur said.
"Did Percy say where the money's coming from?" Dumbledore asked.
"No," Ron said, "Though with so many people wanting us gone, could be anybody. Death Eaters, Voldemort, EM, Malfoy, or even what was stolen from Harry's vault. I trust Percy's working on that, takes him time."
Ron wondered if Dumbledore's mind was declining, the delay in the mental processing behind those blue eyes.
"Mr. Riddle's been good at recruitment, finding the right man for the job," Dumbledore said, "If the Minister was so concerned, could've sent us all straight to Azkaban, instead, went with the spectacle."
"Lucky," Lupin said, "Can train them easier here than in Azkaban."
"Keeps us preoccupied," Ron stated.
Dumbledore's blue eyes fixed onto Ron.
"We speculated," Hermione said, "Harry came up with it."
Ron stepped closer, hand to Hermione's shoulder.
"You," Ron said, "All of us, we're going on about safety, our impostors, but we can't recruit, not really. Voldemort's regrouping, rebuilding his ranks, and he's got an army wanting to execute Harry."
"You underestimate our ability to recruit," Dumbledore said.
Ron picked up The Daily Prophet from the table, the front page, Harry's arse.
"This ain't helping," Ron said, "Meanwhile, Finnigan's group has collection cauldrons on Diagon Alley calling for my head."
"Not everybody's convinced," Dumbledore said.
"Not everybody's willing to speak out," Arthur said, "Same thing last time, very few, in fact."
"Anybody who stood up to You–Know–Who gets murdered," Lupin said, "Happened then, happening now to anybody who sends in a supportive letter, this Eximo Macula's taken on the same role the Death Eaters held, enforcement with no accountability."
"Everyone else thinks Harry is—" Arthur said.
"The spoiled brat that he is." Snape stepped out of the fireplace.
Ron glared at the man, the man who didn't bother to hide the contempt for the red haired Weasley.
"Mr. Potter's never been spoiled Severus," Dumbledore said, "Far from it, considers rights to be luxuries he shouldn't have. Contrary to your opinion or The Daily Prophet, Harry Potter was neglected in his childhood. NEGLECTED, not spoiled."
"You knew?" Hermione snapped at Dumbledore.
She stood, her shoulders halfway up Ron's upper arms.
"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, "Even in hindsight, it was simply the best option I had available, a topic best discussed between me and Mr. Potter, at a later time."
McGonagall stepped out of the fireplace. She carried a rack of chips, three decks of cards. Tonks followed her. Fred and George stepped out a moment later.
"Everybody," Dumbledore said.
A motion, they moved toward the walls. A wave of the wand, the largish round table showed.
"Albus!" McGonagall said.
"Please," Arthur said, "How do we play this…it's a muggle game, right?"
Ron recognized the excitement in his father's hands.
"I've never played this ridiculous…game," McGonagall said.
"The point of a poker game is to play poker," Lupin said.
"Discussions are a normal feature of this game," Dumbledore said.
Ron sat next to Hermione.
"Alright, alright," Fred said, "I researched the rules, think we know how."
George took the cards, shuffled them, passed out cards. Ron unsure if Snape was simply pretending to be unhappy or not.
"I understand you're having some interest in the shop?" Dumbledore asked.
"Nothing we can't handle," Fred said, "Yeah, they're definitely watching us."
Talk continued for hours as the cards played, until the table had shrunk, a pile of chicken bones on the plate next to Ron. Fred and George to either side, across from Ron was Dumbledore. Ron's and Dumbledore's pile of chips high, almost as high as the one between them.
"Wow," Fred muttered, "He's…"
Ron stared at those blue twinkling eyes, his attempts to figure out the playing cards met by birthday cards. Ron felt the similar probe, went for another chicken wing. Dry rub of the flesh between his teeth, he nibbled, bared the whites between the lips.
"I'll raise," said the Headmaster said, putting out another chip.
Ron put one out.
"Get him a Firewhiskey," Ron suggested.
"Get you a beer," Fred said.
"You're cheap," George said.
Ron glanced at Lupin's eyes as the Headmaster checked the card.
"Raise you everything," Ron said, moving the rest of his chips in.
"Ouch," Arthur said.
Dumbledore moved his chips over.
"Mr. Weasley," said McGonagall.
"Which one?" George asked.
"I call," Ron said, turning his last cards.
"Four of a kind beats the straight," Fred said.
Ron grinned, took the chips to his pile.
"I think that brings this game to a halt," Dumbledore said, "Better luck next time."
Ron took the handful of bank notes and galleons, stuffed them into his wand holster beneath the table.
"Like they're reading minds," George said.
Ron stood, stretched. Ron went over to Hermione.
"Well?" Ron asked.
"I need a book," Hermione said.
"Here," Ron said, handing her the Portkey, "Get it."
Hermione activated it, vanished. Fred and George went into the fireplace, vanished.
"Yeah," Ron said to his father, "She needed…couple things."
Arthur Weasley went into the fireplace.
"Took Albus for a ride?" asked McGonagall.
"I learned fast," Ron said.
McGonagall and Tonks went into the fireplace, vanished. Dumbledore went slow, the tap toward Ron.
"We both had an advantage," Dumbledore said to Ron.
Ron smiled.
"It was fun to see what you've mastered," Dumbledore said.
Dumbledore went into the fireplace, which left Ron with Lupin.
"Well," Lupin said, "That was enjoyable."
"Yeah," Ron said.
Hermione appeared, backpack on her.
"Got it," Hermione said.
Ron gestured, they went into the fireplace. Ron dropped the Floo Powder.
"Fred and George Weasley!" Ron announced.
Together, him and Hermione spun together.
"Harry and Gia weren't there," Hermione said, "Guessing Richard's still at the Hospital."
Ron and Hermione stepped out into the greenish living room.
"It's our family exhibitionists," Ginny said from the armchair.
"Shut it git!" Ron snapped.
Edward grabbed Ron's leg.
"Children!" Arthur scolded.
"Not like we had a choice about that!" Ron snapped at Ginny.
George came down the steps.
"Should get your kink checked out," George started, before his knees wobbled. "Hey!" George lost his balance. "Jelly Legs? RON!"
Ron spread his hands.
"Never took my wand out," Ron said, "Besides, not allowed one outside Hogwarts, therefore—"
"Ron!" Hermione whispered.
"Same guest room?" Ron asked.
"If you're sure," Fred said, "I'd suggest the middle one, though Hermione can stay—"
"With me," Ron said, "Not like I'm a threat."
Hermione tugged on Ron's arm; they climbed the stairs. Second floor had three doors where there used to be two.
"Remodeled," Ron said as he opened that middle guest room.
"Magical geometry," Hermione said as she closed and locked the door.
Ron went to the double wide bed, in the middle of the modest room.
"I'm sure I'll regret this," Hermione said, "I need that picture."
"Yeah," Ron said.
Hours earlier, it was immediately after school when Harry grabbed Gia's book–bag, and they went out the back of the girl's locker room. A turn around, they went for the pull off in front of the school building. In a tattered oversized shirt, the blue dress slacks, stood Andy.
"You're a freak," Andy said.
"She's—?" Harry whispered to Gia.
"Kristen's taking us to the hospital," Gia said, "Or explain the faster way to her."
"Waste of time," Andy said, "All Richard's fault."
Kristen pulled up, her police uniform full of metal as she stepped out of the cruiser.
"In," Kristen said, "All of us, Andrea."
Andy grumbled, got into the back. Harry squeezed in between her and Gia. Gia closed the door, and Kristen got back in.
"Got your eloquent apology ready for when Richard recovers?" Kristen asked.
"Why should I?" Andy said, "His fault."
"You lit the cherry bomb," Kristen said.
Andy remained silent, her finger poked at Harry. Gia leaned into Harry.
"My cousin hates me," Harry said.
"Good," Andy whispered.
"I'll bust his arse," Harry said, "Won't kill him, maybe he'll learn."
"Dickface won't," Andy whispered, her finger poked Harry, again.
"He loves you," Harry said.
"Disgusting!" Andy snapped.
"Sure he also hates you," Harry said, "It's weird with family, can't stand them, can't hate them."
"Dickface's nothing but hate," Andy said, "Wish he were gone—forever!"
"Andrea!" Kristen snapped.
Kristen pulled into the parking lot, into the police officer parking in the front. Harry reached, opened the door.
"Hey!" Kristen snapped as Harry got out, over Gia.
"Gotta be a gentleman," Harry said, realized he'd broken her expectations to passengers in the back seat.
Harry reached, held Gia's hand as she got out. Andy climbed over the seat, got out. Harry closed the door; and the four of them headed for the visitor entrance. Andy loitered near the doors, Harry went with Kristen up to the counter of the nurses' station.
"Richard's still in room 35A?" Kristen asked of the nurse behind the desk.
A frown came across her face as the nurse typed into the computer. "I'm sorry—"
Harry caught Kristen as she began to collapse.
"NO!" Andy shouted, bolted.
Gia took over for Harry, and he ran after Andy headed out the door. Kristen now in chase. Harry made it outside, Andy already in the driver's seat to Kristen's police cruiser. Kristen next to him.
"ANDREA!" Kristen shouted.
Andy's answer, the blue lights flashed, the siren blared, as Andy pulled out, fast. Harry pushed Kristen to the side, the car missed them both as it raced out onto the road. Other cars honked, including the swearing from a truck driver. Kristen keyed up the radio on her belt, and Harry turned around. Harry reentered the hospital, Gia to the side, the tissue to her eyes.
"Hello," said Jen, stepping to the stand, she poured out a cup of tea, took a biscuit.
Kristen returned, her eyes toward Jen.
"When did he die?" Kristen asked.
"What are you talking about?" Jen asked, "He was fine a moment ago."
Harry walked toward the nurse, stared into those eyes, and he jumped the counter. On the monitor, the picture of Richard, however, he spotted it.
"Richard's not pregnant," Harry said, pointed.
"How could—?" Kristen started.
"Must be in error," the nurse said, "I'm so sorry."
"This way," Jen offered.
"Got a kid to catch." Kristen turned, left.
Harry and Gia followed Jen.
"What happened?" Jen asked.
"Ant bolted," Harry said, "Stole Kristen's car."
Harry entered the room. Richard motionless on the bed, surgical sutures that showed on his exposed chest, the monitors beeped, the ventilator breathed for him.
"Anything you can do?" Jen asked.
"Hermione's the expert on healing," Harry said.
"What did the doctor say?" Gia asked.
"I didn't want to wait," Jen said, "Think maybe today, tomorrow?"
Harry held Richard's hand, a wandless healing charm to him.
"As much as I'm willing to risk," Harry said, "Else he'll wake up with a extra leg or todger or something."
Harry went to the chair, sat.
…
Harry heard it, the familiar voice that echoed and reverberated throughout the hospital
"DEAD!?"
Harry disapparated, apparated near Kristen, a gurney being rushed in, Andy motionless on it, mostly covered in white, next to the older man in white with a nameplate of McCoy.
"Unresponsive," Doctor McCoy said, "No pulse, no pressure, no breathing, dead."
"NO!" Kristen yelled, "DO SOMETHING!"
A nurse whispered into his ear.
"Surgery," the doctor ordered.
"Finally," Kristen said.
"She's still dead," the doctor said, "Her baby—"
"What baby?" Kristen asked as Gia approached.
Orderlies in blue and white ran the gurney across the corridor, through a pair of double doors. Gia approached.
"Kristen," Gia said.
"Not sure I can get over her being pregnant," Kristen said, "Suppose with her history…"
"Silver lining," Harry suggested.
"What happened?" Gia asked.
"Andrea crashed the cruiser," Kristen said, "She made it home—somebody dialed emergency after she…guess they ran, but good they dialed."
Kristen puffed her eyes with a tissue.
"Kristen," an orderly said as he came out, "This way."
Kristen led the small procession, Gia and Harry behind her, through the double doors, a bit of blood on the floor. In white, the smile on his face, the doctor held a small bundle, made faces.
"Proud to present a baby boy," Doctor McCoy said, "Guessing close to nine months, seems vibrant to me." That doctor made another face, handed the baby over to Kirsten.
"Ant was HIV positive," Gia said.
"Already testing the blood," the doctor said, "We'll know shortly."
"Andrea?" Kristen asked.
"Her remains have been removed to the morgue," the doctor said, "Worry about the living first."
Harry didn't need to read Kristen eyes to understand the mix of emotions.
An order came over with a clipboard in his hands. "Birth certificate."
Harry glanced at the blanks, scratched his head.
"Father?" Harry asked.
"She never said a thing," Kristen said, "So I do not know."
"Pregnancies don't always show," the doctor said, "And given the shirt, think she knew and was hiding it."
"We do know about the mother," Gia said.
Kristen tried to juggle, Harry took the baby into his arms. Harry made faces at the boy, the wide eyes unsure what to make of the brightness.
"Funny thing," the doctor said, "The nurse who took the blood sample got an unexplained rash as she did it." He gave the baby a tickle.
A summon of his wand, Harry held it against the boy, spotted the sparks and banished his wand back.
"He'll have an interesting life," Harry promised.
Harry's grin on his face, showed to the boy, thoughts of his punishment faded fast at this new kid.
"James might work," Harry said.
"Already decided," Kristen said, "Paul, after my late kid brother."
Kristen wept a bit.
"Should have blood results soon," the doctor said, "I'd like him to spend the night given the rough delivery."
"My son's in room 35-A," Kristen said, "We'll be there."
Kristen took Paul, held him tightly in her arms, however, she shook as she walked.
"Can I?" Gia took Paul, held the boy as they walked.
Harry reached, held Kristen's shoulder, she leaned on him a bit, steadied her gait, and they moved. A couple of moments later, they entered room 35-A. Jen glanced up, the eyes from the bed, Richard's. Kristen grabbed Richard's hand tightly, sat.
"Mum?" Richard asked.
"Those shouts—" Jen started.
"Ant's dead," Harry stated.
"You're—?!" Richard stammered, the hazel eyes on Harry.
"Suppose she had a conscience after all," Kristen said, "Never know why she committed suicide."
"She—?" Richard asked.
"Can you do anything?" Jen asked.
"Nothing can bring back the dead," Harry said.
"But—" Gia started.
Harry shook his head, though he caught Richard's glance at Paul, the funny look.
"Ant's?" Richard asked.
Kristen glanced at him.
"She…I learned about it, her pregnancy," Richard said, "She…lit the cherry bomb."
"They saved her kid," Gia said she handed him over to Richard, "Makes you an Uncle."
"Small miracle," Kristen said.
"Dad?" Richard asked.
"At work," Kristen said, "He's coming."
Snuffles entered the room, laid beneath the bed.
If any reader is even contemplating on following Andy's choice, seek professional help!
Date: Thu Jan 4 09:53:35 2024
A/N: 2024-Jan-04. I see stats are back, so I'll test out with chapter 93. If they're working, I'll get FFN caught up with AO3.
