Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

By the Full Moon	By : kmwell Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female Views: 1103 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (only my OC, Darcy) and do not profit off JK Rowling's work.

Chapter List
- 1-i.
- 1
'Tell me, what is it you plan to do / with your one wild and precious life?'
Mary Oliver
"You shouldn't have done that . . . oh, you really shouldn't have—just you wait—why would you—?" Her eyebrows furrow in deep concentration. "How did you . . . ? She was floating . . . that way . . ." She looks up at the dusky sky, not quite the inky black that she's accustomed to during summer nights, arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed. She searches the skies dutifully, but the sound of her trunk falling over makes her jump, and she picks it back up, chasing after her little brother. In a few long strides, she catches up to him again, slowing her pace and dragging her trunk noisily behind her. "All right—I won't say that I'm not impressed, but you really shouldn't have done that."
"I didn't do it on purpose," Harry counters, rolling his eyes at her. "I just got angry is all."
Darcy Potter scoffs, her eyes quickly roaming the sky once more for some sign of her aunt's distended silhouette. "Angry at what?" she asks casually.
Harry looks sideways at her, huffing, his nerves still jangling. "Were we at the same dinner table?" he snaps. "You heard what she said."
"Yeah, I heard what she said," Darcy replies. "A whole load of horse shite about mum and dad."
"It doesn't matter. She shouldn't have said those things."
"Harry, the Dursleys—Marge—they're bitter and jealous and don't like things they can't understand, that's all. We have nothing to prove to those people."
The words come easily to her, words that she's said to him so many times before, but she can't pretend that Marge's words hadn't hurt her too.
Harry doesn't answer.
Darcy smiles down at him. "Come on, Harry, you know that stuff wasn't true. What does Marge know about our mum and dad? I'll bet a whole lots less than we do." She shrugs, wondering if it's true. It's not like she remembers much about their mum and dad. "Don't let that stuff get you fired up. She was only doing it to get a rise out of us."
"And she succeeded, didn't she?" Harry hisses, scowling at the mere thought of their aunt. "So she got what she wanted and what she deserved. Just because she likes you better—"
"You know that's not true." Darcy purses her lips as she thinks. It's no secret that Marge openly despises Darcy and Aunt Petunia's attempts to make her appear more civilized, but to say Marge despises Harry is a massive understatement. "Remember when her stupid dog bit my arm and the entire drive to the hospital, Marge kept laughing about how I must have deserved it? I thought for sure I had rabies."
"Shut up," Harry says, chuckling in spite of himself. "You would have been dead already."
Darcy ignores him, raising her eyebrows. "Where are you headed anyway?"
"What do you mean, where am I headed?" he demands angrily. "Like you've got a plan?"
"Of course I've got a plan," she says, laughing a soft, tinkling laugh that seems to infuriate Harry. "I thought I'd just let you lead this time and see where you take us."
Harry sighs and stops walking, dropping his trunk and pushing it to the side of the road. He rubs his eyes and messes up his hair, breathing in the cool, night air as the sky darkens all around them, streetlights popping to life. "You know, you didn't have to come with me," he says coldly, sitting down onto the curb. "You're more than welcome to leave at any time."
"Harry, stop being so dramatic. I'm not leaving you," she teases gently. "Do you have any money?"
He shakes his head as if the idea is absolutely ridiculous.
Darcy holds out her hand to him, palm-up. "Not Muggle money, Harry."
He shrugs. "Yeah, in my trunk, I think."
"Good." Darcy swoops to his trunk and opens it before Harry can say another word. She digs around in his things, pushing the contents aside to reach the bottom. "Remember how much I took out last August? I spent it all before Easter holiday. Thankfully Emily bought me some of those little cookies I like on the train ride home. Oh, here—got some!"
She extends her hand to show Harry the thirty silver Sickles she's found. A broad smile crosses her face as she stuffs all of Harry's things back into place and closes the trunk with a snap. "What are you going to do with that?" Harry asks, adding quickly, "And you should really save your money next time so we won't have to use mine!"
But as Darcy opens her mouth to protest, she notices his lips are pursed and he's scrunching his nose. He's not even looking at her anymore, but past her, to the right. His expression, one of mingled fear and curiosity, disturbs her. Darcy turns on her heels quickly to follow his line of sight, but it's clear to her what he's looking at. She can see it, just barely glimpse it, in the shadows of a bush, a large black shadow with eyes that glow in the lamplight.
Darcy takes a single step forward, trying to get a better look at it. It has to be a dog . . . it has to be, but it's the size of a wolf, or even a small bear, and no one she knows in the area has a dog like that. If she could just get a little closer . . . close enough to really see it . . . but the dog takes a single step forward, almost as if marking the for prey, baring its teeth and emitting a low and ominous growl.
She gasps, fumbling for her wand, tucked in her back pocket, but before she can even attempt to Stun whatever it is in front of her, she's blinded by bright, white light, light that floods the streets to make it seem like daytime. She's distracted by a figure much, much bigger than the dog, and it barrels towards her with surprising speed. Darcy steps back out of the way just in time. Her heart pounds against her chest painfully, sweat dappling her forehead, but as she looks up at the magnificent, purple vehicle that almost ran her over, she tilts her head back and laughs out loud.
Harry looks at her, his eyes wide and his face pale. He's bursting to ask about what Darcy saw, clearly, but he hesitates when he sees what's parked in front of him. Both he and Darcy look up at the violently purple, triple-decker bus, headlights brightening the surrounding area.
Darcy's amused, shaking her head as a lanky boy exits the bus in a purple uniform, a crooked black bow-tie at his neck. His eyes find Darcy and he grins, baring yellow teeth and laughing incredulously, a flush spreading across his pimply face. "Back again, eh?" he asks Darcy, who sidesteps him to walk up the steps of the bus. "S'been awhile since I last seen ya!"
"Last summer," Darcy replies flatly, finding a seat amongst the many beds that crowd the first floor of the bus. "Same as always."
When the conductor and Harry linger a bit too long, she makes her way towards the front of the bus again, just in time. Harry has yet to move from beside his trunk, and the conductor is peering suspiciously down at him. She gives Harry a sharp look to keep quiet.
"This is my cousin, Stan. We're going to be spending the rest of our summer at the Leaky Cauldron."
"Ah," Stan sighs, sounding nothing short of disappointed. "I thought maybe you'd be going to meet that spoiled blonde friend of yours."
She rolls her eyes behind Stan's back. "Not this time, Stan."
While Stan struggles with Harry's overstuffed trunk, Darcy urges her brother onto the bus behind her, taking his hand and pulling him along. His eyes are wide with fascination, a slightly wary look about him. Several comfortable, if not unsturdy, beds are scattered throughout, some occupied by sleeping witches and wizards, but most empty. Darcy sits down on a bed in the back with Harry at her side, close enough to have a whispered conversation.
"What is this thing?" he breathes, looking around, observing Stan and the driver and bouncing for a moment on the mattress.
Darcy digs around in her pockets and pulls out twenty-two Sickles. She doesn't answer her brother right away, watching Stan walk slowly towards them again, a lopsided smile glued to his face.
"Hot chocolate this time?" Stan asks, clearing his throat.
She smiles sweetly up at him, but speaks to Harry. "Hot chocolate is normally extra, but Stan discounts it for frequent riders," she explains. "Doesn't he?"
"If once a year is what you call a 'frequent ride'," Stan jokes. His laugh is obnoxious, a high-pitched giggle, and Harry shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Darcy throws him another brilliant smile and Stan submits quite quickly to her. "Yeah, all right, I'll get you your hot chocolate."
"And one for my cousin, please!" Darcy calls after him. She turns to Harry again, her smile awkward. "This is the Knight Bus. You must have hailed it accidentally when you fell down."
"Where's it you're going again?" Stan inquires as he brings them two steaming mugs. Darcy's mug is overflowing with marshmallows.
"The Leaky Cauldron, please."
As Stan slinks away from them yet again, Darcy continues. "It's quite convenient, but I must warn you—"
Before Darcy can finish her sentence, the Knight Bus takes off with a bang!, the force of the acceleration moving the beds towards the back of the bus. Darcy lifts her legs to keep the bed frames from hitting her. Harry quickly imitates her, but spills his hot chocolate all down his front, burning his skin and hissing. He tries to find his balance again, but ends up being thrown against the wall, his mug crashing to the ground and shattering into several large pieces. Darcy sees him blush furiously when he realizes she's watching.
"I tried to warn you—honest!" Darcy laughs. "But it's not that bad after the third time. You kind of get used to it."
Harry yelps as his foot gets caught between two beds. "When have you ever had the time to ride this thing?"
"Emily and I used to use it when I would visit over the summer. Being underage presented itself with some difficulties," she says, bouncing on the bed as the Knight Bus rolls over some large bumps in the road. The bed creaks and groans underneath her, but Darcy composes herself with ease once more. "The biggest difficulty being a lack of transportation."
"Why didn't you just use broomsticks?"
"You know I wouldn't be caught dead on a broomstick. And Emily doesn't like flying."
"It's not that bad."
"Yeah, well unfortunately, dad failed to pass his broomstick prodigy genes to me." Darcy shrugs, taking a small sip of her drink, slurping at it and popping a large marshmallow into her mouth. "Anyway, Stan's been the conductor for a while, ever since he was real young. He thinks my name is Gemma, by the way, so don't say otherwise. And don't use your real name. And cover your scar." She fusses with his dark hair, flattening it against his forehead.
"Didn't Stan go to Hogwarts?"
"Dunno," Darcy replies, a slight smirk on her face, leaning into her brother. "I've never seen him around. Have you?"
Harry thinks hard for a moment and shakes his head. "I suppose not."
The Knight Bus continues to jump from destination to destination, knocking Harry all over the place, into windows and onto his hands and knees on the ground. He eventually ends up falling on top of the chips of his mug he'd dropped earlier, cutting up the palms of his hands. Darcy cleans his cuts as best she can and finishes her own hot chocolate, still sitting perfectly straight on the bed, her face tinged slightly green. Her stomach flips as they take a sharp turn, nearly tipping the bus onto two wheels.
"Done with that?" Stan asks slyly, sneaking up on them and smiling at Darcy. "I can take it if you want."
"Thanks, Stan," Darcy says with a small smile. "How many more stops until we get to the Leaky Cauldron?"
"Just a few," he answers. "Why? You in a hurry?"
As Darcy is suddenly jerked sideways, she laughs. "Something like that." She notices the newspaper folded and tucked away under his arm. "Do you mind if I borrow that?"
Stan hands it to her and she unfolds it, eyes scanning the stories for anything of interest. Harry studies the front page carefully, the one that's facing him, and he tilts his head in confusion, forehead creasing.
"Who is that man?" he asks suddenly, pointing at the front page. "Who is this? I've seen him somewhere before."
Darcy's brow furrows. She closes the paper to see who Harry's pointing at. She watches the moving black-and-white photograph closely, watching the man in it scream and fight the chains that bind him. A thin, gaunt man with long and stringy dark hair stares up at her, madness in his dead eyes. His teeth look to be off color, even without any color to go by. She knows who he is—Sirius Black. Darcy had seen him a few times on the Muggle news over the summer, and the Daily Prophet has kept a photo of him on the front page for weeks, urging others to be aware.
"Sirius Black," Stan answers for her, overly dramatic and leaning closer to both she and Harry. He raises his eyebrows to his hairline, his tongue darting out to lick his cracked lips. "Killed twelve Muggle and one wizard with just a single spell."
"One spell can do that?" Harry whispers, eyes growing large. "Just kill all those people?"
Stan grimaces as if the memory is personally painful. "He was a real powerful wizard," he explains. "He was real close with You-Know-Who."
Darcy takes another long look at Sirius' photograph, almost entranced by it. Finally, tiring of Stan's hovering presence, she shoves the paper back into his hands and he shuffles back off towards the front of the bus. When the Knight Bus gives another jerk, it leans suddenly to the right, balancing precariously on it's two side wheels, but after a moment it lands on all fours again and carries on through the dark night. Darcy looks out the window, rain beginning to patter against the now closed window. She's almost thrown forward as the bus comes to a sudden halt again.
"You saw the dog, didn't you?" Harry whispers, dangerously close to her ear. "Before the bus came?"
She turns to look at Harry, peering down at him. "Are you sure that's what it was? It was massive."
"That's what it had to be, right?" he asks again, his face looking anxious. "I mean . . . what else could it have been?"
Darcy shrugs, pushing the creeping paranoia to the back of her mind. Now that she really thinks on it, Darcy comes to the conclusion that it must have just been a stray, wandering around. "Well, whatever it was, it can't have followed us all the way out here."
The Knight Bus comes to a shuddering halt once more, followed by a loud bang! Darcy immediately stands up, long legs carrying her off the bus much faster than Harry. She waits on the sidewalk for him to exit. As Harry hustles down the steps, Stan carries both of their trunks out, not half as gentle with them as she would have liked.
The familiar smell of stale smoke and burnt soup lingers in the damp air outside the Leaky Cauldron. Darcy looks up at the place, smoke billowing from the high chimney, blocked by the pointed roof of the building. It's impossible to see inside through the grimy and cracked windows.
"Not bad, huh?" Darcy asks with a smirk as the Knight Bus's doors shut and it rattles away from them, leaving them completely in the dark. She crosses her arms and looks up at the swaying sign, faded and weather-worn. "I told you I had a plan."
"Yeah, well—"
"Harry! Miss Potter!"
Darcy and Harry jump, looking quickly towards the door of the Leaky Cauldron. It opens with such force that Darcy is sure whoever is behind it will knock it clear off the rusty hinges. But when she sees who it is that's greeting them, her smile is wiped off her face, the blood leaving her cheeks. Harry seems to share her misgivings.
"Was this part of the plan, as well?" he murmurs into her ear.
Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, stands before them with a broad grin across his red face, his arms wide open as if expecting a hug from each of them. Darcy remembers seeing him quite often during her fourth year at Hogwarts, the year Fudge had been elected as Minister for Magic. Frequently he had met with Dumbledore, who always offered his own advice to Fudge, and while Fudge had always been passing kind to her, his interest in her personal life had always made her slightly uncomfortable.
Darcy grabs hold of her trunk, sharing another look with Harry again, who's gone completely white in the face. However, Fudge is not mad, nor does he seem even slightly annoyed with them or the appearance they just made. Instead, he is cheerful and warm and inviting, and he holds the door open for Darcy and Harry as they walk inside. Just inside the entrance, after the door shuts behind Fudge, he looks them over critically, rocking back and forth on his heels.
The air of the Leaky Cauldron is thick with stale smoke, a seemingly permanent buzz of hushed conversation in the background. Almost every table is occupied, servers bustling around with drinks and food, laughing with the customers and shouting bawdy jokes across the common hall. The only light comes from the candles hovering near the ceiling, much like a more disappointed version of Hogwarts' Great Hall, and many tables are shrouded in shadow.
"Harry, I'm afraid we've never formally met before," Fudge says brightly, holding out his hand for Harry to shake. "Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic. I'm sure you've seen my picture in the papers."
"Oh, yes, sir," Harry replies, shaking Fudge's hand weakly. Darcy is quite glad he's chosen not to reveal that he's actually seen Fudge in person before, albeit beneath an Invisibility Cloak, under very private circumstances.
Fudge withdraws his hand and looks at Darcy now, offering her a short bow and then grasping her hand with both of his. "And I do believe I've already had the pleasure of meeting you, Miss Potter." He smiles, lightly kissing her knuckles. "But that was some time again. How have your studies been?"
"Wonderful, sir," she replies with a small grin, pulling her hand away. "I'm eager to start this year."
"Yes, N.E.W.T. year," he affirms, looking positively excited for her. "The Headmaster has spoken of your proclivity for Potions before."
Darcy smiles weakly. "That's very kind of him, sir."
"Excellent." Fudge sighs happily, clapping his hands together. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Potter, but I have some business to discuss with your brother . . . er—alone, if you don't mind. Now, we've already had two rooms made up for you, so Tom will bring your luggage up for you . . . good-night, Miss Potter . . . I daresay we'll see each other again soon enough."
As Fudge leads Harry towards the rickety wooden staircase that leads to the second floor, Harry throws Darcy an almost pleading look over his shoulder. She smiles sympathetically, but there's nothing she can do. It isn't long before Tom, the toothless landlord, approaches her with an oily smile on his face, grabbing for her trunk.
"Will you be taking supper down here tonight, Miss Potter?" he asks, his speech impeded by the fact that his teeth are missing.
"Um," Darcy stammers, looking up towards the second floor landing again, where Harry and Fudge have just disappeared from. She gives Tom a forced smile. "Actually, I think I'll take dinner in my room, thank you."
"As you wish, Miss Potter." He bows, gesturing with his arm for her to lead the way up the stairs. "After you."
- 1
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By the Full Moon