Dried Leather and Withered Flowers

Chapter 7

Harry can't decide if he preferred it when his sister didn't like their brothers. On the one hand, Lea tiptoed around the other occupants of the house and argued with Dean most of the time. On the other, she didn't know how to handle a gun before the siblings had called a truce.

" YOU SHOT ME !" Honestly, Harry is surprised he's still conscious, though the black spots in his field of vision make him think that that won't last long.

"You told me to!" His twin crouches over him, prying his hands away from his bloody calf. "Fuck, Har', why the bloody hell did you think being a human target was a good idea?"

Through his pain, Harry registers how pale his sister suddenly is. She tugs her wand from where it has been stuck in her ponytail for the last few hours. Watching closely, Harry follows her wand movements as she waves it over his throbbing leg, murmuring latin chants under her breath.

"Your spells usually miss me!" He's screaming through gritted teeth, fingernails scrabbling at the dirt and gravel underneath him. His scream grows louder when his vision whites out with pain.

"Got it." As his gaze clears, Harry notices the blood covered bullet now hovering over his leg. His arms collapse from where he had been holding himself up, causing him to lay flat on the dirt and blink up at the blue sky.

"What the fuck is going on?"

The pain is his leg leaves as if it was never there at all, leaving Harry able to sit up once more. He looks up into the eyes of his tallest brother. Sam flicks his eyes between the twins before his gaze settles on the bloody hole in the leg of Harry's jeans.

"What-"

"Nothing!"

The twins cut their brother off in tandem, Lea flicking her wand. The blood stain disappears and the hole sews itself together.

"When the hell did you take my gun?" Dean stands a few meters behind Sam, holding up the offending pistol with a scowl.

"What gun?"

Harry slaps a hand to his forehead. No wonder Lea's not a Slytherin, she possesses no cunning whatsoever. Both Winchesters stare at their sister with an unimpressed expression. "Dumbarse."

Apparently he wasn't quiet enough in his mutterings. Lea jerks her head around to glare at him. "And you're such a Ravenclaw? Mr. 'Let's-Play-Human-Target?'"

He has enough sense to look ashamed. Though, really, he never actually expected Lea to shoot him. He's always been quick enough to dodge her curses. He's not Malfoy . The thought of the blond wanker is enough to make him grimace.

"Back up. Why the hell would either of you be the damn target?"

Harry glances at Dean as Lea shrugs. He takes a moment to clamber to his feet, dusting himself off before answering his brother. "The tires got boring."

"He was supposed to dodge." His sister rolls her eyes as she sticks her wand back in her hair. "But, all's well that ends well."

"Shooting each other is not well." Sam stresses the words, looking exasperated.

"I'm not going to shoot him again!" Lea holds up her hands. "Not now that I know he can't dodge."

Harry shoves her shoulder. "Have you not seen me dodge bludgers?"

"Seems like bullets are your weakness." She sticks her tongue out at him before stepping out of the way of another shove.

"Cool it, brats." Dean sighs, tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans. "Let's just say that neither of you have unsupervised gun privileges."