Run || Harry Potter FF

xviii || warehouse

We stood amongst a jungle of bricks and concrete. Shattered windows were covered sparingly with plywood, effectively setting the atmosphere of our little exchange.

"Sit tight, Lay. Gotta call 'em and let 'em know we're here," Jackson said, giving me a small smile before walking down the sidewalk to make the call.

I crossed my arms over my chest uncomfortably just before George snorted from beside me. "Can you even breathe?" He laughed.

"Go ahead, laugh! I don't care!" I said defensively. The clothes I had borrowed from Jackson's sister were a little tight. Actually, the red dress fit me like another layer of skin. I was so out of my comfort zone. "Besides, shouldn't you be more focused on what's about to happen?"

George shrugged. "I like to live in the moment."

I groaned, wishing I could have that mentality. He didn't even seem scared. Meanwhile, my stomach was doing more flips than an Olympic gymnast. I narrowed my eyes. "Yeah, well, aren't you lucky then?"

"Ouch," he said, grabbing his chest in mock pain.

I sighed. "Sorry. Fear makes me grumpy."

"Don't be afraid then," he said, opening up his jacket to reveal the wand in his inside pocket. "They won't even know what happened. Trust me."

"Believe me, I'm trying. But I can't help but wonder--"

"Look, worst case scenario, we die. And then what will it matter? That's the thing about being dead--you don't even get a chance to be upset about it." The same painful look crossed his face but in an instant, it was gone.

"So, that's what you think? When you die, that's it? You don't exist anymore?"

"Yeah. Unless you're a ghost, of course."

I laughed incredulously. "Ghosts?"

His face was serious. "Uh huh. I know a few."

I was about to ask him what he meant, and question the consistency of his beliefs, when Jackson approached us. "They're sending someone down. Shouldn't be long now. You got the cash?"

I nodded my head. I couldn't bring myself to actually say the lie, even if I already had before. If I was going to die in there, I wanted to go out with a smidge of integrity. "And Lay?" Jackson said.

"Yeah?"

"That dress suits you." He smiled that crooked smile again and my heart fell. Not because of how self-conscious I felt, or because I liked him. If he died in there, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Despite all the criminal activity, he had a good heart. He didn't deserve this.

The truth was on the tip of my tongue. "Jackson, I need to tell you--"

An ominous creak sounded, chopping my confession in half with the swiftness of a sword. A man stood in the doorway, middle-aged and balder than a newborn. He had an earring in his left ear, which seemed misplaced. He said nothing to us and instead, turned around and walked back into the warehouse. Jackson motioned for us to follow.

It was smelled of damp rust and it was freezing cold--so cold it chilled me to the bone. But that wasn't the reason I was shaking. It was dark as we walked down the hallway. The echo of my shoes hitting the ground sounded like gun shots. Every shadow I saw looked like a monster. I was uneasy to say the least.

The hallway finally opened up into a large room where five men stood, arms crossed over their chests. There were two large boxes, one of which was overflowing with heavy duty firearms. They were like nothing I'd seen before. I wasn't sure I would know how to operate them.

Jackson touched my arm lightly, signaling it was time to stop. I faced them with my head held high, though I felt sick on the inside. "So which one of yous ordered this bunch?" the man in the middle asked, accompanied by the dripping of a pipe.

I struggled to speak up. I was so afraid that I could barely make out the facial features of the men in front of me. They all looked the same. Bulky with an air of danger. Much like the Death Eaters, though they didn't scare me nearly as much.

"This is Layla. She's the one who asked for 'em," Jackson spoke up for me. I wanted to thank him for taking the lead but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

A chorus of laughter broke out. "Her? Really? These?" the middle man cackled. "Using them as props for a photoshoot, are ya?"

The fear I'd been feeling began to evaporate, replaced by a roaring fire. My hands clenched into fists at my sides and my breathing accelerated. There was nothing more infuriating than being underestimated because of your gender. "How much then?" was all I said, though I had a mouth full of words threatening to spill out.

They all started laughing again. Now I could see that the middle man was missing a few teeth and had an ugly scar above his eyebrow. I could imagine his breath smelling like he hadn't brushed in ages.

I gritted my teeth, stepping closer and closer to the edge of my resolve. "How much?"

They laughed again. I was about to lose my sanity. "Nice try with that one, eh. You got us," he roared. "Now who's really here to buy these?"

"Watch it," George whispered in my ear. He knew I was about to do something stupid.

"I'm here to buy the damn guns. Now tell me how much they are so we can get on with it," I said, at my wits end. The atmosphere changed abruptly.

The middle man stepped forward slightly and spit on the ground. "You come in here with your tight little dress, expecting us to take you seriously? Why don't you wiggle your way outside and let the men do business. Alright, love?"

That was it. With a swiftness that I could only attribute to adrenaline, I pulled my own gun and pointed it straight at him. "Are you taking me seriously now?" I shouted. My aim was steady and the widening of his eyes gave me more satisfaction than I could have imagined.

But when I heard another gun being pulled, I knew it was a bad idea. "Shit," I heard from my side. Then came the tunnel. The men disappeared from in front of me and all sense of my surroundings were lost. My back hit the ground hard.

I groaned. My back was aching and breathing was difficult. Slowly I opened my eyes. It was dark and voices surrounded me--more voices than I was expecting. I sat up. Everyone from camp was there, eyes wide and waiting for some sort of explaination. "What happened?" I asked. "Where's George and Jackson?"

"You don't know?" Harry asked. "What do you remember?"

Everything came flooding back. George must have gone back for the guns and Jackson. "Oh no." My hands went straight to my mouth. Where were they?

A crash sounded. The ground surrounding us was in chaos. The two boxes had spilled out. Guns and ammo were scattered everywhere. But that wasn't nearly the worst part.

My breathing stopped. I saw red and knew immediately. I had fucked up. I had fucked up supremely. George and Jackson both struggled to breath as the blood drained out of their bodies right in front my eyes.

--------

I am terrible at updating. My apologizes. But I am definitely getting back into writing so expect another chapter and hound me until I do it. Thanks (: x