I'd like to give many thanks again to my betas MPotter77, MollyMoon and Abigail89, for all their help polishing this chapter and for feedback on the overall structure of the story. I especially want to thank every who has left comments on the previous chapters. I'm always thrilled by any feedback, even as brief as "Thanks for sharing" or "I liked it".
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August 12, 2002
They were at the Leaky Cauldron today. I saw her come in around twenty past twelve, while I was eating lunch at the bar. She didn't acknowledge me, of course. She talked with Tom the bartender for a moment, then he nodded toward one of the back rooms and she marched over there and shut the door after she went in. Five minutes later, Potter walked in and did the same thing. They were in that back room at least 20 minutes before the waiter even knocked on the door with their food. I can only imagine what they were doing in there. Probably shagging each other's brains out. They're so disgusting. They even do it in a pub! Ten points to Gryffindor for not doing it right at the bar, I suppose, but still. Shagging in a public house. It's just nauseating. I took rather a long time finishing my lunch because I wanted to see them when they left that room. They were both red in the face, like they'd been exercising. I don't want to think about what or how they were exerting themselves in a back room of the Leaky Cauldron. Did he take her on top of the table? Under it? Up against the wall? Did she bend over for him or did she make him lie on top of her and shove it in? I bet she didn't even wear knickers under her robes today. She's a nauseating little hussy and he's just as bad. Mr. Stud-Wizard. Probably goes commando and lets Little Mr. Potter hang free and stand up straight whenever the mood takes him.
They both infuriate me. And they didn't even respond to that note I sent with Salazar on Saturday morning. He came back to me with empty talons. I just don't think Potter and Granger are paying attention. I specifically said I know where they live, I know what they do and they disgust me. I would have thought that would make them restrain themselves a bit in public. But no, they're still going at it like bunnies, even in a public house at midday. They probably placed silencing charms on the room but I could still imagine what they sounded like. I've heard people doing that. It's loud and embarrassing and disgusting. She was probably moaning while he pounded her, then he probably grit his teeth and pushed as hard as he could and she probably screamed his name or "Sweet mother of Merlin" or some other exclamation people make in the throes of passion. Don't they KNOW that people can tell what they've been doing? Nobody cares about them shagging each other twice a day. Or more. They should keep their hands and lips and bodies to themselves and not subject the rest of us to their tawdry displays of excessive sexuality.
I'll give them one more chance to behave themselves. Then if they haven't promised to mend their ways, I might have to teach them a lesson.
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After his little lunchtime tryst with Hermione, Harry went back to the Auror Division and did his best to get some work done. Checking the assignment board, he was relieved to find no new cases were assigned to him while he was out of the building, so he spent the remainder of the day plowing through several thick files full of parchments devoted to cases he was already working on. With Hermione abroad, he reckoned he would have time to get some work done at home that night, so at half past five in the evening he stacked up a couple of files, performed a shrinking charm on them and packed them into his slender briefcase. Then he Apparated back to the flat, heated up some leftover takeaway food and spent the evening catching up on his paperwork. Many people in the Wizarding world, including his own friends, seemed to think that being an Auror was all glamour and danger, the wizard's version of the Muggle character James Bond, but that was far from the truth. There was certainly plenty of danger, but it only came in spurts. The rest of the time the job involved a lot of tedium, ranging from interviewing witnesses to staking out suspects to writing reports. The times when Hermione was away on business, not around to distract him, were tailor-made for getting work done. When he went to bed that evening, he felt like he'd accomplished a lot. Hermione would be proud of me, he thought. I'll tell her about this when she gets back.
As he slowly came to consciousness the next morning, he reached to his right reflexively, then remembered that Hermione wasn't there. She was off in France somewhere, doing something he couldn't know about with people he could never meet. Instead of her soft, warm, curvy body he found a large, furry lump on the bed.
"Crookshanks," he mused, petting the cat behind the ears, "she's off in France for a few days. So I guess we'll have to miss her together." The ginger cat purred loudly; apparently he didn't miss Hermione nearly as much as Harry did. Crookshanks rubbed the side of his face against Harry's hand, his purrs getting louder. "Can you smell her on me, mate?" He pulled his hand away and leaned his face on his palm, inhaling the scent of his own fingers. "So can I. Damn but I miss her. She won't be back till Thursday though. Better make the best of it."
Swinging his legs out of the bed, Harry got up and took a shower. The warm water streamed over his body, working out a few of the kinks in his muscles that Hermione would usually work out with her talented hands. He missed all of her right now but her hands had special talents. She did something with her thumb and forefinger that drove him wild. Whenever she went away he missed that special treatment, and this morning was no exception. He turned to face the shower head, warm water sluicing down the front of his body, washing over the most sensitive parts of him, and tried to use his own thumb and forefinger exactly the same way Hermione used hers…His attempt at imitation was clumsy but eventually effective. He realized that he couldn't remember the last time he'd had to do that. Since they'd cross the line from friends to lovers two years ago, she had done her very best to satisfy his physical needs, which were fairly typical for a young man his age. Whenever she wasn't there to help him meet those needs, he realized just how good she was at what she did for him.
Two more long, lonely days, he thought as he dressed and grabbed a piece of toast for breakfast, then Apparated to work.
Hermione's first full day away went very slowly for Harry. Around ten o'clock Remus Lupin approached him to go out with Nymphadora Tonks and re-interview several witnesses in a robbery in Bury St. Edmunds. Harry and Tonks conducted the interviews in a very thorough and professional fashion and returned to the Ministry of Magic around four o'clock. Tonks walked Harry to his cubicle, then proceeded the ten remaining feet to Lupin's office, where she knocked twice on the door before entering. Harry noticed a twinkle in Lupin's eye as he opened the door and silently let Tonks in. The voices of the two older Aurors mingled and blended through the office wall so that eventually Harry stopped trying to hear what they were saying, which was all about the robbery investigation anyway and not terribly interesting. What he did notice was that Lupin's office suddenly went completely silent, even though Tonks hadn't yet left the room. The silence lasted about fifteen minutes, during which Harry fumbled with the papers on his desk in a vain attempt to appear to be working while he trained his ear toward his supervisor's office, hoping to hear…something…
All he could hear was an occasional "thud".
Suddenly Harry heard scuffling noises coming from Lupin's office, then the door opened and Tonks reappeared, her hair and clothing completely different than they'd been when she returned to headquarters, a wicked grin on her impish face. As she left the office, Tonks and Lupin shook hands, but something about the handshake was not on. Lupin's fingers slid up to Tonks' wrist and lingered there a few seconds, and there was a glint in his eyes that Harry hadn't seen before.
In fact Harry found the whole scene quite confusing. Unless…NO! It can't be…it's not… his supervisor and surrogate godfather couldn't possibly be involved that way with Tonks… Could he? But she's only about seven years older than I am, and Lupin's over forty… And she's a very attractive woman and he's a very unattached werewolf… I mean, man… Oh bugger. He reached an inescapable conclusion. Tonks and Remus are together.
In the few seconds it took for Harry to make this realization, Tonks sidled over to his cubicle and plopped her bum on the edge of his desk.
"Wotcher, Harry," she smiled brightly at him, crossing her legs so that a long expanse of inner thigh showed below her denim mini-skirt. Harry glanced up toward Tonks, trying not to think about what was under her mini-skirt. Intellectually he knew it was probably pretty much the same equipment Hermione had under her skirt, but Harry did not want to think about how Tonks might have been using her equipment in Lupin's office just a few minutes earlier.
"Shouldn't you be going home about now?" he blurted out. Bugger, he did NOT want to be this close to any attractive woman in a mini-skirt right now. Not that he had any interest in Tonks that way. She was definitely an attractive woman but she just wasn't his type. Besides, he just wished it were Hermione wearing that skirt.
"I will, soon enough," Tonks replied, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at him. "Somebody's a bit tetchy today. Sounds to me like you need a diversion, something to keep your mind off Hermione being gone."
"And what would you suggest?"
"How about Ron?"
Harry almost spat out the water he'd just sipped from his mug. Tonks immediately struck an apologetic note.
"Not that way, you daft git! I just meant he's been your best mate for a long time. With your lady away, now's a great time for the two of you to do some male bonding."
Harry looked up at her over his glasses. "Well, we had a falling out almost two weeks ago. I haven't talked to him since then…but I sure do miss him. Maybe tonight is the right time to get in touch with him and mend fences."
"Bloody well right about that," Tonks insisted. "You should go home, clean up and give Ron a Floo call, see if he's up for some bloke time tonight." She slid down from the edge of Harry's desk and made to leave.
"Thanks, Tonks," Harry said. "You're a pretty good friend yourself."
"Ah, I'm just a bit older and more experienced, that's all. And that's what friends and partners are for, innit? You've got my back and I've got yours."
"Right. Well…I'm off then. And Tonks" - Harry couldn't resist winking at her - "tell Remus he's a cruel surrogate godfather, shagging his girlfriend not fifteen feet away from me while mine is out of the country."
Tonks turned three shades of red, none of them by choice.
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Harry went to a Chinese takeout place and brought home some General Tso's chicken for dinner. Although she had spicy tastes in other areas of their life, Hermione didn't like seriously spicy food and Harry did, so he indulged his taste for the really hot stuff only when she was away on business. After dinner he tossed the leftovers in the fridge and went into the living room to get comfortable. He moved his wizard chess set from the top of the armoire to the coffee table and set up the pieces. Then he screwed up his courage and approached the fireplace so he could invite Ron over. Several opening lines went through his mind.
"Ron, about that spat we had on my birthday…"
"Ron, I don't really think you're a slut…"
"Ron, Hermione really loved what you gave me for my birthday, and so do I… I miss you…"
The last sounded best, so Harry grabbed some Floo powder, tossed it into the fireplace and called out "Ron Weasley!" As green flames sprang up, amid them floated the ginger head of Harry's best friend of eleven years.
"Hey, Harry…long time no see," Ron began with a quizzical look.
"Hey, Ron…look…" - he stammered -- "about my birthday present…and all that."
"Yeah."
Harry rolled his eyes; he and Ron still were as inarticulate about their friendship as they'd ever been. "I mean, I'm sorry about what I said. I've been really busy with work lately, and I should've come by to say hello and, well, I just didn't."
"Yeah. Well, I've been pretty busy too. So…"
"So anyway," Harry took a deep breath, "I was wondering if you were busy tonight. If you're not, would you like to come over and play some wizard chess?"
Ron eyed him appraisingly and tried to look around the flat. "Won't Hermione mind? She's probably got plans for the two of you tonight."
Harry shook his head. "She won't mind. Actually she's off in France on assignment for the DoM. And…I miss you…we haven't hung out together in ages. Please?"
Ron thought for a moment. "You got any firewhisky?"
Harry smiled. "Absolutely. And the chess board is already set up the way you like it."
"Pretty confident I'd say yes, were you?" Ron laughed.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "No…not confident…just wanted to give you enough of an incentive, was all."
"Just hanging out with you isn't enough incentive? Don't underestimate yourself, Harry. Besides," Ron sighed, "I don't have anything interesting to do tonight."
"Oh?"
"Really, I don't. Siobhan and I broke it off last weekend. Or more accurately, she broke it off with me. First she comes on to me like a hag in heat, then she gets all shirty with me because I happened to notice some other bird in the Leaky Cauldron. Women!" he snorted. "Honestly, it's easier being unattached."
Harry waited until he thought Ron had finished venting. "So…you want to come over or not? I'll set up a bottle of firewhisky and two glasses for us."
A wide grin crossed Ron's face. "You bet. Just let me grab my wand and I'll be there in two shakes." Ron's head left the fireplace and thirty seconds later, he stepped out of the fireplace and into Harry and Hermione's living room, dusting soot off his jeans. Harry walked up and clapped Ron on the back, then pulled him into a bear hug. The heat coming off Ron's face hinted at his embarrassment.
"What's the big deal, Harry?"
"Just don't let me go two weeks without talking to you ever again. You know you mean the most to me of anyone in the world…well, maybe except Hermione…You're still my oldest and best friend," Harry finished, giving Ron a mock-punch on the arm.
A smile crept across Ron's face and he mock-punched Harry back. "I know, Harry. And you're still my best mate too. Now where's the firewhisky? Get ready to have your nuts busted on the chess board."
"Yes, master. Whatever you say," Harry chortled like an obedient house elf as he poured two small glasses of firewhisky while Ron settled down on the sofa.
Half an hour later Ron was about to put Harry's king in check, and Harry knew it. Sitting in a chintz armchair at the corner of the coffee table, he wracked his brain for another move that might keep Ron at bay. Apparently he took too much time deciding because Ron called him on it.
"I'd like to finish this game before tomorrow," Ron said snidely. "Are you going to move again or not?"
Harry pursed his lips in concentration. "Yeah…sure… just a min-" As he bent over the chessboard to move his knight, he heard a rapping sound at the living room window.
"Owl post at this time of night?" Ron wondered aloud.
"Hmm… wonder what it's about?" Harry said, opening the window. It was another tawny owl, this time with a larger parchment scroll than the last time a tawny owl had appeared outside the flat a few days earlier. Harry took the scroll from the owl, patted its back and shooed it off the window ledge. As he unrolled the scroll and examined it, an uneasy sense of déjà vu settled in his stomach. The message on this scroll was identical to the one from Saturday, but with a chilling coda:
I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE.
I KNOW WHAT YOU DO.
YOU MAKE ME SICK.
WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME?
"Bloody hell," he muttered as the parchment shook in his hands.
Ron looked from the parchment to Harry's face and back again. "Something wrong?"
Harry frowned, trying to make sense of what he was reading. "Maybe so. We got an owl post like this a few days ago, on Saturday morning. The wording was identical to this one but it stopped with the third line." He showed the parchment to Ron, who lifted an eyebrow questioningly.
"You're right. This is not on. Do you have any idea who sent this to you?"
"No, neither message was signed, but it's obvious to me that they came from the same person. That last line is new and that's what worries me." He sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair as he started pacing the room. "It sounds like I have a stalker."
"Bloody hell."
"Yeah, my feelings exactly."
"Does Hermione know about this?"
"She was here when the first message arrived. We talked about it and decided we would try not to worry about it."
Ron sat back and chewed on his upper lip, deep in thought. "Well, it seems like you might really have something to worry about. Too bad you let that owl go so quickly just now. Don't suppose you saw which way it headed off?"
Harry shook his head and sighed with exasperation. "No…not tonight…" - his face brightened - "but now that you mention it, that's probably the same owl that brought the message on Saturday. I remember noticing that it flew off toward St. Paul's Cathedral - you can see the dome from our kitchen window…"
Leaning back on the sofa, Ron continued to think. "It's not much to go on," he admitted a moment later, "but at least it's something. One tiny clue. You're an Auror, Harry. You're trained to investigate suspicious occurrences. This could be nothing at all, just a prank by someone… well, I don't know who would play a prank like this but I'd rather think it's a prank than something worse…"
Ron's words sank in, giving Harry another chill. Someone was stalking him. Whoever it was seemed upset. Harry had ignored the first message, which made the stalker angry. Now he'd just inadvertently ignored the second message, which would probably increase the stalker's anger and frustration. Not good, Potter. Definitely not good. "I'm going to get my notebook and write this down," he told Ron as he left the living room and went into the study. Returning a few minutes later with the notebook and the eagle feather quill Hermione had given him at school, he found a fresh leaf of parchment and jotted down the words from the latest message.
"You gonna tell Hermione when she gets back?" Ron asked.
"I suppose I'll have to."
"What about Lupin?"
Harry frowned. "No…not yet. No sense bringing him in when I'm not sure there's even a real problem."
Ron looked skeptical. "So how will you know when it's a real problem?"
"That's a good question. Probably not until something worse happens."
"You're not going to sit around and wait for something worse to happen, are you?" Ron asked, sounding worried.
Harry chuckled grimly. "I've never had to sit around and wait for bad things, Ron - they always seem to find me pretty well on their own. As long as we've known each other, have you ever known me to just sit back and take the shit that comes my way?"
"Course not."
"And I won't do that now, either. But I don't really have any idea what or who I'm dealing with, and I need a clear, logical mind to help me with this."
Ron smiled. "You need Hermione."
"Well…that would've been true a couple years ago - certainly before we ended up in bed together." Ron snorted. "Seriously, Ron…she's not nearly as clear-headed and logical as she used to be, at least not where I'm concerned. Not that I can complain much about how things have changed between us." Harry smiled to himself, his mind drifting to how Hermione gave 100 percent to all sides of their relationship.
Ron's ears turned red. "Erm, that's okay, Harry. No need to say any more. I've already figured out that you two shag like bunnies," he muttered, suddenly seeming very interested in the carpet next to the coffee table.
Blushing, Harry decided he was very lucky that Hermione's sex drive was so well-matched to his own. Then a pained expression settled on his face. "And now she's gone until Thursday and I really, really miss her," he said morosely, hoping Ron caught his draft as the familiar tightness increased below his belt.
Ron nodded and continued staring at the carpet. "I see…You know, I might have something that could help you with that. Let me go back to my flat for a minute," he offered. Before Harry could ask what he was talking about, Ron crossed over to the fireplace, grabbed some Floo powder and stood inside the fireplace, then tossed the Floo powder around himself and announced, "Fred and George Weasley's flat!" Since Ron had said he would be back soon, Harry decided to stay put. He started examining the chess board, trying to puzzle out -- again -- what his next move should be. Before he could think on it much, Ron appeared from the fireplace again. Approaching Harry, he opened up his clenched right hand to reveal a small blue vial.
"What've you got there?"
"Something Fred and George gave me. They're branching out a bit, trying to add a line of adult products" -- Ron coughed -- "some are funny, some are just useful. I'm not sure which this is supposed to be. It's called Pintle Popper." Ron read the label to Harry, who started blankly at him. "Ingredients: Verbena oil, verbena flowers, purified water from Hogwarts Lake, witch hazel. Reduces lust when no appropriate outlet is available. Splash Pintle Popper on one hand, rub both hands together, then gently rub hands exactly once up and down the length of your pe--"
Harry could feel a flash of heat emanating from his face; apparently all the blood below his waist had risen to his head. "That's enough, Ron. I get the picture."
"No, there's more. 'When used according to instructions, this potion will prevent erections for up to six days.' " Ron's face fell almost as much as Harry's did. "Six days?"
"SIX DAYS?" Harry bellowed. "Why the hell would I want to do that? Especially when Hermione is coming back in two days?"
Ron blushed. "Bugger, I don't know. That sounds pretty…boring."
Harry cocked an eyebrow at him. "Especially since I was hoping to spend a few hours …erm…alone with her Thursday night before we go to sleep. Sorry, Ron, I know you meant well, but I am not using this Pintle Popper stuff now. I guess I'll just have to deal with being randy the old-fashioned way."
"Well, at least I know you excelled at that," Ron laughed. Harry shot him a murderous look. "You weren't that good at Silencio in school, mate, not to mention it doesn't work very well on bed hangings. I could hear you buggering your pillow at least every other night during fifth, sixth and seventh years."
"And all that time I thought I was the smart one for figuring out what you were doing behind your bed hangings," Harry snickered. "We were pretty pathetic back then, weren't we?"
Ron's smile left his face. "Yeah, we were. We were kind of distracted by other things. Look…don't throw the stuff out. Just save it for a rainy day. Who knows, maybe Hermione will get sent away for a week or two and you'll need to use it…"
"God, you know how to wound a bloke. I think two weeks away from Hermione would kill me."
"Sorry, mate. It's not my fault you're whipped. You are whipped, aren't you?"
Harry smiled. "Totally and completely, and loving just about every minute of it. But if you say one more word about Hermione being away I'll have to forget to invite you to come with me-"
Ron perked up. "Come with you where?"
Harry reached into the armoire, pulled out a green envelope and opened it for Ron to see. "To the Quidditch World Cup. Hermione gave me a pair of tickets for my birthday. Top Box, too. Isn't she brilliant?"
"Always has been and always will be," Ron laughed. "And she definitely knows how to make you happy."
"In every way," Harry snickered
"I'm glad for you, mate. Really. I don't know what took you and Hermione so long to figure it out. Everyone else had you pegged as a couple ages ago. Now stop mooning over her and let's finish this game. I'd like to get out of here before she comes home and starts jumping your bones."
Harry blushed. "Err, right. And Ron - finish your firewhisky."
"Sure, Harry." He moved his queen. "Checkmate."
"Whipped again," Harry sighed, draining his glass of firewhisky. Then he realized he didn't want Ron to go. The evening was still young and there was still half a bottle of firewhisky and a lot more to talk about. "How about best two out of three?"
"You are a glutton for punishment, my man."
"I vanquished Voldemort. I ought to be able to beat you at chess…at least once in my life."
"Guess you can't be great at everything…"
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