In the Crosshairs

Dragon Voldemort

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction written for personal enjoyment and entertainment. Harry Potter, its character, and its respective elements are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling.

Disclaimer II: This fanfiction includes some minor elements from another fanfiction, When Things Start to Change, as that was the inspiration to the prequel to this story.

This story is an AU ending to the series, as it was started before the release of OotP, it treats as canon books one through four (SS/PS, CoS, PoA, & GoF); some character, spells, and other elements are taken from OotP, HBP, and DH. Differences from those later books will become apparent. It is the sequel to my first fanfic, Red and Green Patches, however, it should be otherwise enjoyable.

WARNING: Contains Language, Sex, Nudity, Violence, and Drug Abuse.

Summary: Death Eaters strike BACK! Order of the Phoenix is declared a terrorist organization. Can Harry and his friends survive the viscous onslaught of slander, frameups, death, and destruction? Can they even hope to fight it? Post–GoF 6th & 7th year R/Hr, Rated R for LSNVD

REVISING: (Sept 2018) I'm rewriting/revising this story; the plot should be the same as before, with minor enhancements/tweaks, and hopefully a much better read. I've elected to keep the older draft up, slowly nibbling away at it as I progress; these chapters are labeled with (old) before the chapter titles. In the process, I will be splitting those very long old chapters into smaller bite size pieces.

Chapter 1: Chasers

"Every guest in this Hall," said Dumbledore, and his eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, "Will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again—in light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can only fight it by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open." [ GoF, Ch37 ]

Upon the stone dais, without benefit of support, stood a stone arch; an arch, from which, was draped the Veil of Death, within the Department of Mysteries, in the basement of the Ministry for Magic. An unnatural invisible smoke, a smoke that any living soul would feel like fingernails scraping across a chalkboard, a smoke that offended every hair in the nostrils, drifted upward from the curtain, for beneath it, perched on the edge of death, was a simmering cauldron over black flame. Floating in the foul smelling and boiling goo were a pair of gray eyes, both blinking and staring at Hermione, as if pleading for a life fleeting away. Hermione, bound, gagged, and tied to a stone column, only gave a look of scorn, of judgment against those eyes, before moving her eyes away. Also bound, beside Hermione, was her best living friend, love interest to another good friend, Gia, who paid no attention to the eyes in the cauldron, but instead, at the snake like red eyes of the figure beside the cauldron, the one scooping out the green acid–like substance into a goblet. He swirled the cup.

"Behold!" Voldemort exclaimed, "The Elixir of Immortality!"

Two years earlier…

It started all so innocently, that hot summer after their fifth year, the heat of the day was just beginning. Instead of Harry going to the Dursleys, he had decided to tap his inheritance, treat his friends to a trip across Europe, to travel to Romania and back.

We start on this Monday morning, the first of July, in the county of Devon, just outside the village of St. Ottery, at a dilapidated and impossible building of the Burrow. Outside this building, Crookshanks chased a rat around the pond. Smoke billowed out of the kitchen window instead of the chimney; an open window framed Fred's blackened, soot covered, face. Bees buzzed as they went among the flowers and foliage of the garden. Gnomes frolicked in the garden. Dressed in emerald green robes, Professor McGonagall apparated and approached the front door.

However, in the uppermost bedroom, just below the attic, were four teenagers still asleep on the pair of beds. A glow was illuminating the bedroom in spite of the best efforts of the faded Chudley Canons curtains to shield the occupants from the Sun that was in the sky and threatening to pass them by. A breeze came through the window and moved the curtains, which let rays of light reach inside, their tendrils hitting the occasional metal. Pigwidgeon's cage was empty as the bird paid more attention to the start of the day than any of the four sleeping teenagers. On one bed were Ron and Hermione; the other was Harry and Gia, a Muggle girl and Harry's girlfriend. [1]

An uncomfortable tug, and Ron was the first to open his eyes. Naked and on the bed, he pulled the sheet from Hermione, leaning on him from his left, covering them both; his firm tent pole remained even though Hermione's fidgeting hand kept grabbing at his red curly pubic hair.

Snorts and moans came from the other bed in the room; as that couple turned, dragging their white sheet cover, until only Harry's left leg was left to the imagination and Gia was behind him. Harry's teeth chattered as he wet the bed, her left arm moved over his shoulder, her fingers stroked his ear, and he calmed down. Above them, the rays of the early morning sun helped the myriad of Chudley Canons posters continue in their fading.

Creaks from the door, and it opened, rapidly, revealing Ginny, with her wet red hair and a towel in her hands that did nothing to hide her knickers. A quick glance at Harry and study of his soft todger, before Ginny's eyes met Ron's staring back, with her shrewd guess to the state beneath the sheets, which wouldn't be a surprise as she had seen Rita Skeeter's photograph, the one that had caught Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Gia all skinny dipping in a hot tub.

"Twat—" Ron started.

"Dickhead—" Ginny replied.

Hermione snorted, turned, pulled on the covers a tad.

"Bug off—no butchers—" Ron said.

"Dishy bollocks—" Ginny's eyes darted at Harry's full monty before they returned to Ron.

"Not of your concern," Ron said, "Scram—" He threw some old stained boxers at Ginny.

"Banging bobby!" Ginny dashed in, tripped to the floor, stared from inches away at Harry's growing—

"You'll pay!" Ron threatened, "We're trying to sleep—fuck off you gormy—"

"It's time to—" In a quick action, Ginny pulled Ron's cover off, and snapped her towel, hitting Ron in the bollocks.

"Ow!" A quick recoil, then Ron sprang up, holding his bruised bollocks under his stiffy, darted as fast as he could after Ginny. "Beastly arse—you're dead!"Ron used his hands against the walls, leapt stairs after stairs, as he chased Ginny.

"He's coming!" Ginny shouted.

"What—?!" Ron stammered as he came out into the living room.


Despite the floating spot from the bright flash of light, the entire room came into focus faster than Ron could respond.

"I was hoping for Harry," Colin said, his camera sank down from his bare chest toward the elastic of his white briefs.

Professor McGonagall, who was just talking to Arthur Weasley in his pin strip suit, turned toward Ron. Her wits fought to balance etiquette with curiosity, as her eyes flickered across the pink skin, and she brought her eyes to the trembling blue eyes on the face blushing with embarrassment.

"Showing your talent off?" Fred whispered at Ron.

With all the other eyes on Ron with his firm display, only Ron saw Fred part the front of the bathrobe enough for the wand tip to come out, for Fred to mutter as the surge started. Ron's volcano erupted. Professor McGonagall stood there patiently until Ron's business stopped.

"The Hogwarts Board of Governors has elected to reward your efforts in freeing the school at the end of last term, please extend their gratitude to your friends," Professor McGonagall said, "I have given your father the details of their generosity. I will look forward to seeing you in the fall."

Professor McGonagall turned around and went out the door.

"Oh," George said, "She'll definitely look forward to seeing you after this display—"

"Whatever's left," Ginny said, grinning.

Ron turned around for the stairs.

"Get his ass!" Ginny said.


"Ginevra—" Arthur said.

"Family photographs," Ginny said with a fake tone of innocence.

Ron climbed the stairs. He couldn't believe it, ready to bang and spewing in front of Professor McGonagall, of all people! With the thoughts of that and that camera, Ron reentered his bedroom, closed the door, and slid down it. He glanced around at the friendly faces. First it was Hermione, with her busy brown hair, her brown blinking eyes, her knockers, the firm midriff, and the petals between her legs denoting her femininity. Then Gia, with her blond hair and blue eyes, her voluptuous knockers that ensnared his other friend. Finally, Harry, the scrawny figure whose skin was too tight for his bones, with the green eyes looking back at Ron. All three returned the glances, kept their eyes on him, as he sat on his arse, back against the door, knees in the air and spread.

"Exciting—" Harry muttered.

"Shove it," Ron snapped. "That git…"

"You ran after her like that," Hermione said, "What'd you expect—"

"Cameras? Fred or George? McGonagall? Dad?" Ron said, "Can't believe—"

"I'd like a copy of those snaps," Hermione said as she sat next to Ron, she gripped him.

"What—?!" Ron exclaimed.

"Wank for them—" Harry asked.

"You camp," Ron snapped.

"Likely thinking about McGonagall—" Harry said.

Ron snorted. "No way! She was appreciative about our last adventure." Elbows to the knees, he looked down. "Mum won't find out, she can't—"

"Being dead…" Harry started, he stopped, figuring it wasn't good to talk about the recently deceased Mrs. Weasley.[2]

Ron glared at Harry before the eyes got caught up in watching as leopard spots formed and danced on Harry's skin.

"Hmm," Gia said, "I could dig this."

"Went on the pull 'arry and—" Ron said.

"Watch it," Hermione said, "She's my friend too, so don't demean Harry's girlfriend—"

"Or what—" Ron demanded.

"Hey shirty," Gia said, "Hermione'll likely stop being yours. Swot your stuff if you need to understand what you'd be wanking solo."

"What do you think?" Ron said, "Like always, Mr. and Mrs. Founders of your stupid unofficial fan club wanted your signed starkers photograph along with your perspective on shagging—that twerp diddled her boyfriend onto me!"

Ron blew off.

"We do need to get moving." Gia grabbed Harry's bum.

Harry groaned and got up. Gia sat up.

"One at a time for the khazi," Ron said.

"That's your Mum's—" Hermione said.

"She may be dead," Ron said, "but this is still her house—we need to abide."

"Never cared before—" Harry said.

"I do now," Ron stated.

Harry gave Gia a nudge; she grabbed a towel, waited for Ron to move aside, and went out.

Downstairs, the kitchen table was already prepared much earlier; however, the food was being kept warm, by Dobby, who was on loan for that summer, for Professor Dumbledore thought it would help the Weasley family cope with the sudden and tragic loss of their matriarch, Molly Weasley, several weeks earlier.

Charlie was already sitting at the long table, no plate in front of him; instead, he was reading Students Rid Hogwarts of Dark Squatters in the prior day's Daily Prophet that was up in his hands. Fred was hunched over the sink, his hands were busy, when Harry and Ron came into the kitchen. Harry adjusted his glasses as he and Ron sat down.

"At least you'll be able to properly floss with your curly—" Fred said to Ron.

"Shove it," Ron said, "Like you're up to anything good—"

"I don't hear Mum complaining," Fred said.

Harry snorted.

"That's because she can't," Charlie said.

"Dickhead had something to do—" Fred said.

"It's not his fault," Charlie said, "Impressive what they accomplished, single handedly vanquishing You–Know–Who and lot from Hogwarts—"

"Where's George?" Ron asked.

"Getting ready to prank your room," Fred said, smiling.

Ron glared.

"Pass the syrup," Harry said.

It flew down the table into Harry's hand.

"Dobby happy to serve Harry Potter. Dobby hopes Harry Potter is pleased with meal."

"Yeah, Ta," Harry said.

Dobby vanished.

"Mum dies and you take off—" Ginny exclaimed, coming into the kitchen.

"Haven't you done enough—?!" Ron demanded.

"Family comes—" Ginny said.

"Shove it!" Ron snapped.

"Ronald Weasley," Arthur said, coming into the kitchen, "Mind your manners!"

Ginny crossed her arms, her ears went green, her face went red.

"This is family," Arthur said, "However, if Ron wishes to spend his summer like this, that's his decision to make."

"You have to excuse her Ron," Fred said, "She wanted more pictures—"

"Definitely not!" Ron exclaimed.

"Stay safe on the trip," Arthur said, "All of you."

"Thank you Mr. Weasley," Harry said.

Arthur Weasley returned to the living room, where he was keeping an eye on Edward Weasley, the latest addition, born to Molly and Arthur back in April. In the meanwhile, Fred took a quick step back from the sink.

"Trouble?" Ginny asked.

"See for yourself," Fred said, grinning.

Ginny turned on the tap, and then fell. Out of the faucet, instead of water, streams of butterflies came out, swarming and filling up the room.

"Hello Mr. Finnigan," came Arthur's voice, "Come on in."

Harry and Ron looked to see Seamus Finnigan coming through the door.

"Late morning, eh?" Seamus said, looming over the table.

"Why should they stress themselves out?" Ginny said as she left the room.

"Happy couple," Seamus said, his eyes followed Colin and Ginny climbing the stairs.

"Especially when they're ambushing others," Ron said.

Seamus snorted and glanced about.

"There is plenty of room," Charlie said, "And even more outside."

"Weather's decent," Seamus said.

Ron shrugged. He and Harry stood; Seamus followed them outside for a bit.

"Killer Daily Prophet photo," Seamus said.

Ron snorted.

"Any advice for us poorer bastards?" Seamus said, "Dean is absolutely livid. Suppose Professor McGonagall came to see you about OWLs—"

"She saw a bit more—" Harry said.

"Shut it!" Ron said, "I'll kill—"

"How does Hermione like your double dating—" Seamus asked.

"We already have full OWLs—" Ron said.

"What—?!" Seamus exclaimed.

"We tested after the little affair…" Harry said.

They continued chatting for a bit around the pond. A bit of horseplay ensued before Seamus started to leave.

"I would've loved to see Snape's face with your Order of Merlin, First Class," Seamus said. He then left.

Harry and Ron returned to the Burrow.

Noigate[3] was a community south of London, where Hermione's parents lived, where she called home during her days away from Hogwarts. Inside one of these homes, the four teenagers, two at a time, stepped out of a fireplace, into the living room. Harry and Gia went up the stairs, came back down a few moments later. Harry had a white T–shirt with yellow shorts, wand tucked underneath the collar; while Gia had a two piece, with a top sports bra and shorts. Sandals were on both pairs of feet.

"Going out like that?" Hermione asked.

"Need to see my Dad," Gia said, "We'll be back some time later."

Harry and Gia left Hermione's house, and walked. They passed through a number of neighborhoods, going through parks, over streams, along the paths, to cross the odd street here and there.

They turned onto James Lane, the street of Gia's family residence. Only, there was no real house on the lot, the house that her father, Kevin Prescott, had inherited from her grandfather, as they could not have afforded that detached home otherwise. Now, though, the house was missing, even as the birds among the trees did not know the difference. For the house had been demolished, destroyed, by Death Eaters several months earlier. In its place was a small RV parked in the driveway.

"What the—?!" Gia exclaimed.

"Hi Gia," said a jogging man as he approached and came to a stop.

This man was Bob Johnson, the neighbor across the street. The remaining wisps of his hair were combed over attempting to masquerade his near baldness.

"Thought Dad was crashing at your—" Gia said.

"Had to kick him out," Bob said, "Another relapse—it endangers us."

Gia rolled her eyes. She had seen her father kick his drug habit off and on through the years. To her, he would drink on occasion, that had been forever, but the pot and beyond, those started with the death of her mother so many years ago.

"You're welcome though," Bob said.

"Going on a trip for the summer," Gia said, "Might take you up come school."

"Brace yourself, Harry," Gia said.

Harry and Gia approached the shaking RV. She knew this meant Dad was drunk after getting fired for the umpteenth time, it wouldn't have been the first time. Gia reached for the door, but it swung hard and fast, just missing her. In the doorway was Gia's step–mum, Ane, shaking with a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other, she glared fiercely at Gia. Harry stepped in front of Gia, attempting to shield, as Ane flicked a burning ember at Gia.

"Blimey! Another whore?!" Ane shouted, "You stink! Fucking accident! Think your Mum even wanted you? Old man wants a bang—"

Ane stumbled, lunged for Gia. Harry reacted, moved Gia as he replaced her spot, moving her to the side. Ane grabbed at Harry as she fell, her fingernails snagged his shorts, pulling them down as she hit the pavement, leaving him half naked.

"Fucking John!" Ane said, "He's saving you for himself! What'd he offer? Place in the beggar queue?"

At first, Gia's attention was drawn into the RV, where her Dad was busy banging some young meat. As Harry turned, he stepped on a discarded needle, breaking it; his hand gripped Gia's shoulder, turned her away.

"You don't deserve that," Harry said, "Let's go."

"Can we see Richard first?" Gia asked.

Harry reached down, grabbed his shorts, and used it as a shield in front of him.

"Um…" Harry muttered as they left.

"Just avoid a copper," Gia said.

They meandered, first through a park, before making their way to 26 Oak where they chatted with Richard, one of Gia's schoolmates before returning to Hermione's house.

It was late when Harry slipped into the bathtub in the upstairs bathroom; lavender from the burning candle on the shelf filled the room. Harry laid back in the tub, laid below the bubbles. It was slightly childish, but made Harry feel better as he soaked in the water. Gia came in, closed the door. Even without his glasses, Harry could make out her blonde hair.

"Could've done the hot tub," Gia said.

"Thought it was going to be a shower," Harry said, "Changed my mind."

Gia brought over a small tray of bottles, set it on the edge of the tub.

"Well, this'll make you tougher to spot," Gia said, "It'd be a whole different you."

"Is that what I think it is?" Harry asked.

"You're supposed to have black hair," Gia said, "This'll stop that, besides, I want to see it on you, please? Pretty please."

"I guess," Harry said.

Gia pulled the plug, the water began to drain.

"It'll take time to reheat," Harry said.

"According to the directions, it can start out wet," Gia said, "But, it'll wash out if you're in the water."

Gia grabbed a brush from the first bottle, began to apply it to Harry's hair, the blackness of it started to leach out.

Thump! Thump!

"Wake up!" came the holler as Ron was shook into a lucid wakeful state Tuesday morning, "Wake up!"

Ron slightly cracked his eyelids to Hermione shaking him; a backpack already on her back.

"It's—" Ron protested.

"We're about to miss the train—" Hermione said as she pulled his arm out of the bed.

"Another—" Ron started.

"And ruin all our plans?" Hermione asked as her other arm yanked the covers off.

Goosebumps ran across Ron's suddenly exposed body.

"Come!" Hermione snapped.

Ron stood up only to have her pull his arm toward the door.

"Your Dad—" Ron protested.

"Come!" Hermione yanked Ron into a mild jog out the bedroom door.

"I'm—" Ron started.

"In a bit!" Hermione snapped as they bolted down the stairs.

Hermione, fully dressed with trousers and a short sleeve shirt, pulled Ron down the stairs and out the front door. Gia followed, also fully dressed in shorts and a tank–top shirt, with a backpack, and she was pulling Harry. Ron had barely any time to register, to see that every strand of hair on Harry was bottle green, including the pubic hair. They ran, both Ron and Harry showing off more than they had bargained to, behind the dressed girls, along the roads of Noigate.

"Can we—" Harry started.

"No time to talk. Hurry!" Hermione snapped.

The train was already at the station loading passengers when they rounded into the station. The doors slid shut right behind them, edging Harry's buttocks as they closed.

"We need to sit—" Ron said.

"Sorry for the change," Hermione said, "You two wouldn't wake and we realized there was maintenance. Miss and everything would be fouled—"

"We do need to—" Harry started, his eyes behind his glass frames roamed the overcrowded train, searching for a spot to sit.

"Then next time, don't oversleep!" Hermione snapped.

Several people yielded their seats to Gia and Hermione, while Harry and Ron got mixed up in the crowd standing in the aisle.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered as he and Harry used their hands to guard their dignity.

"Yeah," Harry muttered as they stopped at the next station.

Crowds moved, forcing Harry and Ron a bit further, into the middle of the car. Giggly teenage girls to either side made no secret to their stares to where Ron and Harry were attempting to shield.

Harry and Ron blushed as these teenage girls kept trying to peek, all the way to Waterloo. Crowds shifted, pouring them off the train, hands unable to shield, and Ron's todger was up. Hermione and Gia caught up as they started to leave the train.

"I don't blame you a bit," Hermione said as they stepped off the train.

"Neither do I see you—" Harry started as they jogged for the escalators up to Waterloo East.

"Don't" Hermione snapped.

"Should we go back—" Gia asked.

"No!" Harry whipped as he ran down the ramp to the platform where the train was already waiting.

They made it onto the 1042 express train, which was nearly empty. Hermione stormed for the other end, Harry followed.

"Hermione!" Harry said.

She returned the glare, her eyes kept darting at bottle green pubic hair.

"In case it escaped your attention," Harry said, "Boys do have—"

Hermione snorted.

"Unless you think we don't," Harry said.

"I think I might have read something like that in a book somewhere—" Hermione said, dismissively.

"Have you considered that it might be like a tail or Hagrid with a three headed dog?" Harry said, "There's only so much that can be done!"

"Then he would have—" Hermione said.

"And you—you could have woken us up earlier—" Harry said.

"I tried—" Hermione said.

Harry sat down next to her on the seat.

"Did you even think that Fred's or George's prank might have lingered—" Harry started.

"That was yesterday—" Hermione said.

"And years ago I got a scar—" Harry retorted.

"I…I…" Hermione started.

"Look," Harry said, "…. if he weren't starkers…"

"If he weren't getting excited at every girl—" Hermione said.

"And you wouldn't know it if he were dressed," Harry quipped.

"I'm sorry," Gia said as she approached, Ron behind her, "We should have tried to wake you—"

"And if all we're going to do is fight—" Ron started.

"Now that we've got some time," Hermione said, "You could get some clothes from your luggage—"

"Do you see any luggage—" Ron asked.

"Did you mean to say that you forgot—" Gia asked.

"I thought you two—" Harry started, his eyes glancing between Hermione and Gia.

"If you expect us to dress you—" Hermione started.

"Did you pack any—" Ron asked.

"Have you compared your waist to ours—" Gia asked.

"Can we?" Ron quipped.

Hermione sighed.

"What do we have?" Harry asked.

"I overslept too, we all did," Hermione said, "Fortunately, I think I did accidentally grab…"

She opened her backpack and uncovered their wands and several wallets. Harry grabbed one of the wallets and opened it.

"Mine—" Harry said, "Keep them as I don't have pockets."

"What'd you expect me to do?" Hermione said, "I was expecting you to pack your own stuff!"

"Gotta run around starkers?" Ron asked.

They sat in an open four seater. Ron and Gia took the window seats; she looked forward, while he was on the edge of his seat, and glaring as Harry sat next to Gia. Harry brought his feet up to the edge of the seat as Hermione sat.

"Can we not start this?" Harry said, "We'll get to Devon, I think we'll have time to buy something before the ferry departs."

"Money money!" Ron snapped.

A gray cloud lingered over them. Ron kept glaring at Harry; while Harry watched Hermione get up and walk around as she feigned an interest in the emergency instructions posted about. Hermione came back, sat on the seat, and stared at Harry's bottle green arm pit hair. Gia made no secret at her hand playing below the green pubic hair. Hermione watched Gia's foreplay with Harry. Ron glared and glared at Gia. Harry grabbed Gia, and stood up, pulled her down the corridor into the next carriage.

"That prat!" Harry exclaimed, his voice drifting back into their primary carriage, "Of all the ego–centric—"

"Sit and spin," Ron muttered.

"Ronald Bil—" Hermione started.

"Not you, too!" Ron snapped.

Hermione glared for a moment.

"You're doing this to yourself," Hermione said.

Ron continued his mood for some while. In the meanwhile, the train arrived at Dover and they got off.

"I've got your wallet," Hermione reminded Harry, "We can—"

"No," Harry said, "Go with Gia—"

"You're—" Hermione said.

"And Ron's angry," Harry said, "I'd rather—"

"Just remember that people won't appreciate you peeing in the gutter—" Hermione said.

"Is pooping okay?" Harry asked as a mild chuckle came from his mouth.

Hermione shook her head, took Gia with her toward the waterfront. Harry, however, dragged Ron up to Dover Castle, not noticing the small paper in Ron's hand. Ron kept both a frown on his face and his distance from Harry as they poked about, eventually making their way into a tunnel leading from the keep to the outer gate guard shack.

"Blatantly gallivanting his rubbish…" Ron muttered.

Harry's small hands grabbed Ron by the shoulders, magic flowed as Harry pushed him against the wall. Ron did not resist, but instead, slouched until their eyes were level.

"Belt up you sour puss!" Harry said, "Gutted but this is supposed to be fun, all right? Or would you rather spend the summer with Ginny watching your arse?"

"Ew, Sick!" Ron said.

"I need a friend that I can be seen naked with, I need you," Harry said, "Alright?"

"Yeah," Ron sighed.

"And what's this?" Harry released Ron, grabbed the paper from Ron's hand.

"Don't," Ron pleaded.

Harry, however, opened it anyways, it was from the morning's copy of Witch Weekly, which Harry rotated it to view the centerfold upright.

"She sent it in!" Ron snapped.

Harry recognized it as Ron, taken the day before in the moving picture. Harry snickered.

"It's not funny!" Ron protested.

"I didn't realize exactly what Fred and Ginny captured—" Harry smiled as he said that.

"Try it sometime—" Ron snatched the magazine "—and see how you feel—"

"At least you're out of the Burrow for the summer," Harry said, "No more of these pictures for her."

Ron grimaced.

"Gia's got you by the bollocks," Ron said.

"Ya think?" Harry asked as his hands motioned to his lower front side."Think Hermione's got the blue if you want."

"What's wrong with red?" Ron demanded.

"Nothing," Harry said.

They continued down the corridor.

"Barmy," Ron said.

By the end of the day, all four had caught the ferry to Calais, then onto a train before coming to a doze on their way to Brussels, Belgium.

[1]: Harry's and Gia's relationship was solidified in the prequel; she's a muggle and a childhood friend of Hermione's.
[2]: This is pre–ootp, remember? At the time, there was a rumor, and Mrs. Weasley was my guess to the fan who died. Even though OotP has been released, I'm sticking with Mrs. Weasley for this story, so Sirius is currently alive.
[3]: Canon, through HBP, simply describe Hermione as living in a suburb south of London, so I fabricated a name, Noigate, for it, and it'll remain so for the purposes of this story.

As always, reviews are appreciated. I dare 'ya to press that button, go ahead, press it!