Diagon Alley.
Harry crept through the crowd of shoppers, discreetly scratching his wig and adjusting his false mustache. The flimsy disguise would have to do, for he was out of polyjuice potion.
He finally got to the door of George Weasley's little shoppe, which specialized in designer robes. (He had given up the joke shoppe after the death of his brother Fred.)
A little bell tinkled as Harry entered, and he closed the door softly.
George eyed him from behind the counter, his face still drawn and puffy with grief.
"That's a shit disguise, mate." he said.
Harry patted his mustache. "Er, wha..?"
"I can see your scar through that ruddy wig."
Harry cursed.
"Please don't tell anyone, George. The Ministry is looking..."
"Yeah, yeah, I heard all about it."
Harry walked to the counter, looking back over his shoulder every few moments.
"What did you hear?"
George smiled. "Luna? Moaning Myrtle?"
Harry smacked his forehead.
"It's fine, mate. We all get a wild hair up our arse sometimes. No worries. I won't grass on ya."
A woman entered the shoppe and started perusing the cloaks by the door. The boys lowered their voices a bit and leaned closer.
"So what do you think about your brother, you know..."
George raised his eyebrows. "Becoming a Death Eater? Well, since You Know Who is dead, (good job on that by the way), along with the rest of them, Ron is by himself on that one. Mom thinks he'll come to his senses after a while."
"I'm not so sure." Harry muttered.
George smiled again. "Well, that's for you blokes to work out amongst yourselves, innit?"
The woman found nothing of interest, and went back out to join the crowd. They watched her go.
"Speaking of our troubles," Harry said, "have you seen Hermione lately?"
George laughed, loud and heartily.
"I knew she would cause you lot to come to blows sooner or later. What is it about her, huh? It ain't like she's got big knockers, is it?"
Before Harry could speak George waved his hand dismissively.
"Whatever you blokes see in her, it don't matter to me."
"But have you seen her today, or heard anything about where she might be?"
George shook his head.
"Nah. Haven't heard anything, mate. Don't get as many customers in here as the joke shoppe used to get. Fred would roll over in his casket if he knew I was selling robes now."
Harry cast his eyes downward.
"Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?" he asked.
George laughed.
"Yeah. Buy a fuckin' robe."
2
Harry left the shoppe, looked around furtively, and slipped back into the crowd. The old couple in front of him doddered and limped and perused every window they passed by, so Harry took the time to ponder his next move.
Tracking down a pissed-off Hermione seemed a daunting task. Where would she go? Not to the Weasley's, or George would have known. Maybe to Hogwarts, to help clean up the damage. Or maybe to her hero and lover Ron.
He was so deep into his thoughts he almost missed the flash of bushy brown hair ahead of him in the crowd.
No, surely not.
He craned to peer around the old couple but they proved a wide and unmoving obstacle.
There, he saw it again. The hair.
Harry pushed past the couple, knocking the woman to the ground with a surprised yelp.
Other people called out after him angrily, but he kept moving. He could almost...see......
The fleeing form turned a corner and disappeared from view.
Shit.
"MOVE!" he yelled, elbowing his way past the people in front of him with enough force to knock a few over. Angry rebukes chased him around the same corner that the girl took.
He didn't care. He tossed the wig and ripped away the mustache.
There.
In the small alley ahead was Hermione. She smiled and disappeared again like a chipmunk down a hole.
"Hermione WAIT!"
He chased.
Harry skidded to a stop at the mouth of the alley, panting.
"Please...Hermione, just listen.."
She had stopped at the other end, a stone wall blocking any further retreat. She turned to face him.
He held his hand out pleadingly, as if to catch her like a firefly. A curious grin parted her lips, and she beckoned him closer with a wave of one hand, and parted the helm of her robe with the other.
"Herm....what..."
One round breast met the air, and for the second time in his life he marveled at how perfect the pink nipple sat upon it. Harry swallowed.
And kept walking.
Her other hand swept her robe fully open, and it dropped behind her like a conquered flag. The smile stayed on her lips.
Speaking was lost to Harry now, and he wondered how he was ever able to turn vibrations from his throat into communication. Or impulses from his brain to his leg into locomotion.
She slid one bare foot away from the other almost imperceptibly, turning the stubbly cleft below her belly straight on to Harry.
At that point he gave up trying to understand her motives, or anything at all for that matter. He was only a burning comet on a vector of collision with a planet of pinks and greens and oceans of ecstasy.
He reached her and kissed her on his preferred choice of lips.
A brief taste of musk and puppy breath.
Then
A hand caressed his hair briefly, then yanked it back harshly. A man's strength.
A wand pressed to his neck.
Ron's voice from behind.
"Cant believe you fell for the trap, mate."
"I told you it would work." Hermione added.
Ron's voice blew hot in his ear as he leaned in.
"I told you I'd get you, chosen one."
Harry swallowed dryly.
"Ron, please man, don't.."
"AVADA KEDA-"
A blinding green flash washed over him, quickly swirling to black.
Harry felt himself falling, he braced for an impact that would never come, twin laughs echoing above him.
Hermione reached down to the body and removed his glasses, still foggy with perspiration. She dropped them at her feet and stamped them, crushing the lenses to shards.
Then the lovers ran away, hand in treacherous hand.
