Damn Car
Viopathartic
A/N: Okay, this chapter is a bit odd. I'm not sure if you will think it's funny, but I'll just post it anyways.
I have finally settled with an ending that will fit quite nicely with the randomness that I built this story on. But you'll have to wait until the next chapter.
I will make sure that Damn Car will be my first multi-chaptered story to be finished. I'm gonna do it.
You. Will. See.
Chapter 7:
Oh, what a lovely thing called freedom! Since the Grangers had already paid bail, Greg released Harry and Hermione. A regular convict would have run out of the jail and would have immediately headed to the local fast food restaurant to scarf down burgers. However, the two teenagers wanted to spend their first minutes of freedom in the same place that had taken it away from them.
First, they visited Brett in the medical center.
Brett screamed and Harry smiled.
Second, the two met Dr. Kern as she was picking up her stuff and leaving her job for good.
Kern ran away and Harry smiled.
The two wanted to have lunch in the cafeteria but apparently, the convicts needed to be fed.
So the two found sanctuary in some guy's office. Hermione shook her head disapprovingly after entering the disastrous office. Every item in the room was out of place. But Harry made her forget by grabbing her by the shoulders and planting a big one on her lips. As a result, the whole OCD issue was forgotten as the two continued to snog by the door, on the desk, and by the windows.
Later, the two got down to business.
"A little to the left."
Harry nodded and moved the picture frame on the mahogany desk in that direction.
"Um…a little forward."
Harry did as he was told.
His friend tilted her head and squinted. She held her hand up and pressed her thumb and index finger together. "Just a bit more."
"Hermione!"
Hermione put her hands on hip, appearing to be affronted. "I'm suffering from OCD. What else do you expect, Harry?"
Bradley Feruton needed to pick up a case in his office. He expected the door to be locked, but to his surprise, two teenagers appeared to be messing around in there. With closer inspection, he realized that-
"What are you two-hey, stop moving my picture frame around!"
"You're right. No matter how much we move it, she's still going to look ugly," Harry sighed in a defeated manner.
"Hey! That's my wife you're talking about!"
"I know," Harry replied, unperturbed. Meanwhile, as her friend and Bradley, Hermione listened to their conversation, frowning. What a sleazebag! Wasn't he flirting with me the other day?
"…not as if she loves you!" Harry explained, causing Feruton to go red in the face.
"That's it! Officer," he called, strolling to swing his door open. He poked his head out, trying to gather a nearby officer's attention.
"What? You're arresting me? Under what circumstances? Annoying the hell out of you?"
Bradley scowled, closing the door. "What are you doing out here anyway? I thought you were supposed to be in your cells."
"Yeah, well, Hermione and I needed a…uh, bigger place to snog-oh, I don't think you should sit in that chair by the way," Harry advised.
Feruton, who was just about to sit his bottom on his computer chair, suddenly leapt up. "…what did you do?"
"Nothing," Hermione replied innocently. And they were innocent…but Feruton did not know that.
"Whatever. Just get out!"
The two shrugged and left the man's office.
Not even a second later, Harry poked his body back in and quickly straightened one of Feruton's crooked diplomas that was hanging on the wall. He backed up and made a box with his hands, clicking his tongue with approval. "Right. Now it's perfect," he muttered to himself.
Then Harry turned to Feruton who was looking at him oddly. "OCD. Can't help it."
"You know," Greg said as he munched on some of his Chinese takeout, "I let Potter and Granger go."
Patricia, who joined Sanders for lunch at his desk, swallowed and took a sip of soda. "Really?"
Her partner nodded casually. Patricia scoffed, "It was that easy to get rid of them?"
"Yeah. They went home already so…"
"Hey, chump." Harry nonchalantly came into their view and sat down behind a vacant desk. Hermione followed his move and waved.
Greg's eyes widened. "Potter! What are you-"
"Visiting." he answered casually. "That Feruton kicked us out."
Hermione, being OCD, set to work and began to clean up the mess that the two officers created.
"What are you doing?"
"Cleaning. Honestly, I can't stand the messes you guys make," Hermione replied.
"What do they have this time?" Patricia asked with uncanny casualty as she scraped the last of her rice from the carton.
"From my observations, OCD. And put that back," Greg ordered when he saw Hermione start to pick through the confidential folders.
"Well, they're unorganized," she said defensively.
"What's next, I wonder," mumbled Patricia.
"You see," Harry began, his fingers quickly moving across the desk to straighten the pens and pencils, "We suffer from all of them…"
Patricia scoffed, not seeming to care.
Harry threw a pencil at Sanders who automatically caught it and glared at the teenager.
"Why are you spending time here? You can go anywhere else now, yet you choose to torture us."
Hermione gave Harry a look, and this one movement changed their behaviors. He leaned forward, appearing to be extremely serious. "Hey…um, we might leave soon so we just wanted to give you an explanation to our behaviors."
Greg stared with opened mouth while Patricia curiously cocked an eyebrow.
"Actually, Harry, I don't think we should," Hermione advised gravely. Harry shook his head. "We have to. They must know."
The two officers glanced at each other, believing that whatever Harry was going to tell them was going to be a groundbreaking discovery.
Hermione nodded and sighed, "Okay then. Tell them."
Harry took a deep breath and somberly said, "See...me and Hermione here...we're magical."
Greg blinked.
"Oh boy! Okay," he said as he stood up and placed both hands on the table. "I'll be right back. I just need to get a few of...er...my friends."
He patted Harry's hand sympathetically, whispering, "They're going to take you somewhere safe."
As Greg walked to his office to call the Psychiatric unit, he couldn't help but laugh. Of course, his fellow officers gave him odd looks, but he didn't care. He finally understood Potter and his little friend Granger.
So that was why Potter was so strange! He was not weird as in the-guy-nobody-likes. He was insane like the-person-in-a-straitjacket. It all made sense!
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER
The fellows from the psych unit finally arrived and quickly set to work.
Hermione and the patient to be collected were unaffected by the sudden intrusion.
Harry was quickly contained and was currently being strapped to the retractable gurney.
"I'm rather tangled and well, I, uh," said Harry and he started twitching. "I don't like being tangled."
"Tough," one of the fellows said, followed by an, 'OW!"
He turned around as he massaged his left shoulder, only to find a teenage girl smiling "sweetly" at him while holding a paper weight.
"Sorry, there was a bug."
Greg Sanders sighed with relief as he walked to his office. Potter and his friend were being taken care of by the people from the crazy unit. Things at the jailhouse finally go back to normal.
He reached the door to his room and twisted the knob, already thinking about putting on some tunes. He was in a mood and he loved it. However, once he was inside, his good, jolly feelings were ruined.
A petite lady who had dark brown curly hair stood up from the seat behind Greg's desk. She straightened her black suit and smiled politely.
"Good evening, Mr. Sanders."
"Er...good evening," Greg said unsurely. This woman looked like a person with authority, someone who was higher than him. "Pardon, but who are you?
The mystery woman reached into her jacket pulled out some sort of badge. Greg, who was quite confused, leaned forward and squinted, then felt his mouth go slack.
"Sumer Skont, Secret Intelligence Service."
So, do you know who this "Sumer Skont" is? If you don't, take a closer look at the name.
Also, I need your help. Yes, you.
I want you guys to suggest some "current" rock songs that Harry and his band might be able to sing in A Club. So far, I have pieces from Linkin Park and Dashboard Confessional because that's how I imagine Harry's singing voice.
The next chapter is nearly done; I just have to work out a few kinks.
If you guys haven't already, check out my new one-shot In the attic. \
Thanks and until next time,
Viopathartic