Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Distance In Your Eyes	By : Pfeifenkraut Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Fenrir Views: 30080 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: Nothing of the Harry-Potter-universe belongs to us. It's the property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury. We do not make money out of this. See full disclaimer below.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Chapter 11

“Fred! George! I'm gonna KILL you!” Ron screamed in a rage, already having jumped up from his seat on the comfortable couch and pursuing the snickering twins.

He had felt that something was off as soon as the toffee they had offered him hit his tongue and made his face itch all over. Immediately trying to spit it out, he had cursed as he realised it was too late. The toffee had already dissolved and thickened to some sort of sticky substance, sliding down his throat.

It was his own damned fault for being so stupid!

He had happily accepted the offered sweet and it had disappeared faster than anyone could say Quidditch, which wasn't all that surprising considering that his stomach was larger than his brain.

He should have known by now that anything offered to him by his brothers – especially if they didn't want anything in return – would most likely have drastic consequences.

Yanking the door open, he paused as a wave of nauseousness hit him. Not only his face was itching but now he felt a tingling sensation in his eyebrows and on his head. It was as if every last one of his tiny hairs was growing rapidly, joined by new ones sprouting everywhere. In addition, he felt his eyebrows thickening and soon parts of them started to hang so much that they obscured his eyes.

Gritting his teeth, he dashed into the dimly lit corridor, chasing after them. “You bastards! Come back here!”

Running at full speed, he nearly missed the abrupt turn of the corridor and crashed into the wall, barely able to brace himself.

Black spots danced across his vision when he suddenly felt a strange sensation in his chest. Looking down, he watched in terror as two THINGS sprouted from his chest.

Circe's tits! Where once a manly chest had been, he now sported two very female, but hanging, breasts.

For a moment he was too weirded out to react, but as soon as the twins' hysteric laughter registered in his mind, he snapped.

Roaring, he charged after them with renewed vigour.

“Oh my fair maiden!” Snickering. “Your beauty makes even the stars look pale in comparison!”

He would make them pay for doing this to him! He was a man, damn it! Not some ugly hag with disgusting, old and wrinkly breasts, hanging down to his navel! Just thinking about them made his skin crawl and his stomach turn. He didn't even feel the slightest need to touch them!

If they had been young, firm and taut, then it would have been a different matter – he did like them like that, every boy his age liked them! – but because they were old, wrinkly and wobbling with every step he took, he was disgusted even THINKING of them as a temporary part of him.

“Ronnikins, you're such a hottie!”

Oh god! What if they weren't just temporary?

A flash of his life as a revolting wench somewhere between masculinity and feminity – because he hadn't felt his most important bit shrivelling back up into his body – ran across his mind and he almost faltered in his pursuit. He didn't want to live looking like this! He was a sexy young man in the prime of his youth! He still had to push his broom through masses of Quidditch goal loops!

Determined not to let his life end like this, he redoubled his efforts to catch the twins. If this was not reversible, he would do more than just simply kill his brothers! He would somehow make their remaining lives a living hell!

There! He could see one of them standing still in the middle of the hallway! If they thought they had beaten him just because they had split up they were sorely mistaken! First, he would take care of George, and then, as soon as he was done with him, he would take up his revenge again and look for the other missing twin. They would NOT get away!

Jumping at George, he was startled when he suddenly tripped and fell face first to the floor, sliding a few feet because of his high speed. Grimacing in distaste at the strange and uncomfortable feeling of his breasts scraping over the old floor boards, the air was knocked out of him.

His nipples were almost driving him insane, because apparently they were sensitive as hell, even though they were all wrinkly.

Merlin's balls! That hurt like a bitch!

Was it possible to rip off your own nipples while sliding over the floor?

Gritting his teeth in pain, he swallowed the lump constricting his throat.

He was a man, for Merlin's sake!

He would not show any weakness!

Furiously blinking, he lifted his face and was met with the feet of George. Turning his head to view what had tripped him, he saw a rather smug looking Fred standing a few feet away whose foot was still stretched out.

Bastards, they had done that on purpose!

Growling angrily, Ron was about to voice his sentiments when a hand suddenly closed over his mouth and prevented him from talking. George's face appeared in his line of vision, mouthing him to keep quiet.

What the hell?

Beginning to struggle, he was in the process of tackling George when he felt himself being held down by Fred.

“Shhh.” Fred whispered into his ear and sat down on top of him without further ado.

A muffled groan escaped Ron's lips as the sensitive tips of his breasts were being scratched by the rough shirt and were pushed into the hard wooden floor even more.

How could one be so unlucky? He wondered silently.

“There's an Order meeting in there.” George whispered from his spot, nodding towards the door.

Getting George's line of thoughts immediately, Fred rummaged through the pocket of his jeans for a pair of Extendable Ears and handed one side of them to his twin.

Ron's eyes narrowed in irritation.

The nerve of them!

Planting his elbow into a strategically well chosen place, he heard Fred cursing and after a few moments, a pair of Extendable Ears was handed to him, too.

Snorting to himself, he joined the eavesdropping.

“Can we really believe that information?” They heard Mad-Eye Moody ask. “I don't trust that little rat.”

“We have to at least keep it in mind and don't dismiss it completely. After all we did receive some information that Greyback is not completely sane any longer.” Their father said, and added, as though an afterthought. “Though it is debatable how sane he has been before.”

“Still, to trust Mundungus of all people?” Bill questioned.

“Yes, and to trust information gotten from the scum that's hiding in Knockturn Alley?” Mad-Eye said.

“I can understand both of your views but I do believe that if Knockturn Alley's rumour has it that Greyback has finally lost it that there is at least some kind of truth to it.” Tonks reasoned.

“That would at least explain why he has turned on his allies. There are quite a few kills that can put on his slate.” Shacklebolt said.

“A few? What is the meaning of this, Kingsley? I thought we were talking about two deaths?” McGonagall said. “I believe we can all imagine that it isn't uncommon to be a bit rougher in the circle of the Death Eaters. And we all know that Greyback's interpretation of 'to be a bit rougher' differs from the rest.”

Ron could almost picture the stern look on her face.

“Ah, of course. I can see where you're coming from, Minerva, but about now there are more dead Death Eaters that clearly bear the marks of Greyback.” Shacklebolt stated.

“What?! Why don't we know anything about that?”

“That's because Malfoy's doing all to keep it hush hush.” Shacklebolt explained. “He – or more likely, he-who-must-not-be-named – does not want the public to know it was one of his most loyal and vicious followers.”

Mr. Weasley said. “If it became common knowledge that it was one of the Death Eaters of he-who-must-not-be-named, it would undermine his power and he can't have that.”

Obviously, Shacklebolt must have nodded because he said. “I've just come across this bit of information but apparently there are at least 5 more dead Death Eaters so Malfoy has to do some sort of damage control. But of course, he's not doing it very overtly – that would not be his way of doing things – but very subtly, which is also the reason why it took me a while to get to the bottom of it.”

“But wouldn't it be better if they just said that Greyback betrayed them?” Their mother asked.

“No, because then the public would start wondering about the why. ” Their father said.

“And the public – at least some – would be able to come up with possible fights and friction.” McGonagall caught on.

“So what? They're actually fighting amongst themselves? Somehow I don't think he-who-must-not-be-named would put up with that. He'd just kill anybody and everybody who's a pain in the arse.” Tonks interjected.

“What if...” Charlie started to wonder. “What if he-who-must-no-be-named punished Greyback because he lost Harry. And now Greyback is on some sort of personal vendetta against those unfortunate ones that cross his path?”

“But to kill his own allies?” McGonagall asked. “That is so barbaric!”

“He's like a damned animal. Of course the bastard is barbaric. I don't have a problem if the damned Death Eaters kill each other off without our help. That means less work for us.” Moody growled.

That was it. Ron had heard enough. He had to go and tell Harry and Hermione.

Bucking off Fred who had still been sitting on top of him, the youngest Weasley boy ran down the corridor towards the stair that would lead him to Harry's room.

Amused, Fred and George watched their little brother run away to find Harry. Both of them wondered if he knew that the effects of the toffee hadn't worn off yet.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Poking around in his porridge, Harry held up his spoon and looked listlessly at the grey substance. Then he tilted the eating utensil and observed how the thick liquid fell back down into the porridge with a dull squelching noise.

He wasn't really that hungry. The porridge didn't really look that appealing anyway.

“Mornin'.” Ginny said after she had suddenly appeared in the kitchen entrance. Out of the corner of his eyes he noted that she lazily strolled over to the kitchen counter to prepare some cereal, his eyes still focused on his food. Then she came back to the kitchen table, plopped down into the chair opposite of Harry and sighed sleepily.

This close, he noticed her dishevelled hair and the bags under her eyes. He smiled slightly and replied a good-natured “Good morning” before he returned to his own food.

For some reason the porridge looked worse the longer he stared at it. It seemed some of its liquids were settling on top while the slobbery parts were gathering at the bottom, giving it a slimy, greyish tinge.

“Is this from today?” Ginny asked, munching on her cereal, and ripped him from his musings. Following her pointing finger with his gaze, his eyes came to rest on the Daily Prophet that was lying on the table.

After a quick nod of his head she grabbed the paper, opened it and started to read, leaving Harry to his own thoughts once again.

Returning his gaze back to his slimy porridge, Harry suddenly wished for steak. Or anything that was remotely meaty and didn't look like someone had vomited into a bowl. Even one of those steaks Greyback had cooked – or rather burned – for him would be nice and if he was lucky something like that was somewhere in this very house. All he would have to do was ask Kreacher. Because in hindsight, those steaks really hadn't been that bad after all... Though maybe that was just his hunger speaking and he would eat about anything as long as it contained some sort of meat.

“This is a load of utter crap! The Prophet has outdone itself again! Don't you think?” Ginny exclaimed. She pointed to the headline on the front page and raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Huh?” He asked intelligently.

She made a face. “The Prophet – did you read it?”

“No. They only write what they want so it's not worth it.”

“You really should this time. Listen: 'It is rumoured that the famous Harry Potter, commonly known as the-boy-who-lived, has gone missing and that a search party, specifically assorted for this incident, has started its desperate...'” Her monotonous voice blabbered on, reciting the newspaper.

To be honest, he couldn't care less what the Prophet had to say this time.

Stifling a yawn, he tried to focus on her voice but his mind kept wandering back to the steak. It would be just wonderful to have one about right now.

He noticed only in passing how she lowered the Prophet.

“Harry! You aren't listening!” Ginny exclaimed indignantly.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Why was it so hard to focus today?

She rolled her brown eyes dramatically and said. “Just the Prophet making hot assumptions about your whereabouts.” Her attempt at teasing failed miserably. When she continued, she wasn't able to conceal her concern. “Why do you keep spacing out? Is there some sort of big tragedy I've missed?”

“No...” He mumbled not meeting her eyes. Instead he started to balance the spoon between his fingers and continued to stare into his bowl of porridge.

He didn't really feel like talking, either.

The spoon slipped from his fingers and landed with a loud splashing noise in the bowl's content, causing ripples on its ugly, watery surface and disturbing the awkward silence.

Receiving a disbelieving look from her, he saw her opening her mouth but before she could say anything, the door opened and Mrs Weasley bustled into the room, shortly followed by Hermione. They were about to make breakfast when Mrs Weasley noticed the pot of porridge on the stove.

“What's this supposed to be?” She wanted to know after lifting the lid and looking into the pot.

“Not steak...” Harry mumbled under his breath and thought he had spoken too quietly for her to hear but apparently she had caught it because she asked. “Do you want some bacon, dear?”

Harry looked up sharply, his delighted eyes shining with hope and he nodded eagerly.

“Yes, please.” He said reverently, receiving a strange look from both Ginny and Hermione before they exchanged a glance.

Humming to herself, Mrs Weasley started to make breakfast by pulling out pots and pans and putting them on the stove.

Slowly the rest of the house occupants started to fill the room and every single one of them walked over to the kitchen cupboards, grabbed some cutlery or other and set the table.

“Ginny, are you ready to go to Diagon Alley after breakfast?” Mr. Weasley asked after he had sat down at the table, ready for the food.

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Ginny hurriedly left the room.

“Huh, I guess that means no.” He said and reached for the abandoned paper. Meanwhile, Mrs Weasley loaded the table with toast, bacon, beans, eggs, jam and more.

“Girls. They always block the bathrooms for about a thousand years.” Ron said and started to fill his plate, only to get an elbow into his side from an indignant Hermione.

Chuckling at their behaviour, Harry grabbed the bacon, its delicious scent penetrating his nose and making his mouth water. He heaped a huge pile of meat on his plate and absent-mindedly enquired. “You're going to Diagon Alley?”

“Oh yes, dear. Your letters have arrived this morning.” Mrs Weasley said over her shoulder, still occupied with her cooking.

“And we need to...”

“...stock up on our supplies.” The twins said, grinning at each other mischievously.

“Oh no, you will not!” Mrs Weasley shouted and spun around to point her ladle at them that was dripping with red tomato sauce. “Not as long as you live under this roof!”

Watching the exchange with an amused gaze, Harry stuffed his mouth with bacon and revelled in the meaty taste that exploded on his taste gums.

“Having strange cravings, Harry?” Tonks joked from across the table, ignoring the typical Weasley chaos. Confused, the-boy-who-lived stopped his fork in mid-air and looked down at his plate. Realising that he had hogged most of the bacon, he grinned apologetically at her.

“I guess...” He answered and scratched the back of his head. Then he stuffed the food into his mouth for good measure.

“So... Diagon Alley...?” He asked hopefully after swallowing his mouthful. His eyes turned from Tonks to the Weasleys and he took another bite. “Can I come?”

“No Potter.” Mad-Eye Moody answered immediately, having just entered the kitchen. “Too dangerous. Constant vigilance.”

Gritting his teeth, he asked. “Then why can Ron and Hermione go? They're almost as much of a target as I am.”

“It's already settled.”

“But I have to get my stuff, too!” He argued, looking from one adult to the next.

“Oh Harry dear, we'll get your things for you.” Mrs Weasley intervened. “And if you want anything besides the things for school, then just write them down and give the list to Ronald.”

“But-”

“Now now, no reason to be so hot-headed.” Mr. Weasley said and looked over the top of the newspaper at the others before fixing his gaze on Harry and putting the Prophet down. “By the way, Harry, don't you miss something?”

Confused, Harry focused his attention on Mr. Weasley.

He had no idea what the older man was talking about.

“Your wand, Harry, your wand.” Mr. Weasley said and reached into his jacket to pull it out of the coat's folds and to hand Harry his wand.

Surprised, Harry enclosed the piece of wood with his hand almost lovingly and stored it back in the pocket of his jeans. “Thank you, Mr. Weasley.”

How he had missed the absence of his wand was beyond him. He was a wizard for Merlin's sake! He was dependent on it! Without it he was nothing! So why hadn't he realised it sooner?

Not that it would've done him any good against Greyback. He was no fool, he had realised that his spells had done as good as nothing against the large werewolf.

Now that he thought about it, maybe he should've summoned a solid and long branch and slammed it over Greyback's head during their brief fight in the fields...

If he had been lucky that would have been more effective than any curse he could have come up with.

“We found it in the fields.” The Weasley patriarch added as way of explanation.

Harry frowned. He clearly recognised Mr. Weasley's diversion attempt for what it was. As they had said, it had already been decided beforehand. He felt utterly disregarded and although it was for his own safety, as they always claimed, he was so frustrated that he was now, more than ever, treated like a precious wax doll.

And of course that also meant that trying to argue any further was pointless.

“I'm in my room.” He said, clenching his hand to a fist, and left the kitchen.

Moving up the stairs and into his room, Harry cursed under his breath. He knew he was being childish but right now he couldn't care less. Why did everyone feel the need to control his life? He was his own person and he wasn't stupid! He knew that right now he didn't stand a chance against Greyback and while he would face him again if it meant saving a friend, he would, for once, try to get away as fast as possible. And if he was powerless against the werewolf then how was he supposed to defeat Voldemort? Did they honestly think he wanted this kind of life? With two maniacs out of their minds after him? The only thing he ever wanted was to have a normal life!

Sighing, he let himself fall onto his bed.

He would just be doing his exciting summer assignments while the rest of his friends would be having fun. What a nice teenage life...

Frustrated, Harry reached for the Defence Against the Dark Arts book.

Just when he was about to grab it, blood started to rush in his ears, drowning out the faint noises from downstairs. He couldn't hear a thing. Not the sound of the creaking stairs, Kreacher's mumblings, the closing of doors somewhere in the house or the insults from Mrs Black's portrait. Neither the occasional car driving by nor the permanent background noise of someone moving around and speaking which seemed to be part of the house ever since it had been declared as headquarters.

Bolting upright in his bed, his eyes opened wide, he shifted his weight and waited for the familiar creaking noise of his old four-poster bed.

Nothing.

He hadn't even heard the rustling of his blankets, pillows or mattress.

Panicking, he touched his ears. What was happening? Why couldn't he hear a thing? Had he injured his eardrums at some point?

“TRAITOR! You defile the honour of the most noble and ancient house of Black!”

“Shut up, you cunt!”

“RONALD WEASLEY! Watch your mouth!”

Harry clutched his throbbing head in pain while his eyes closed on their own and his face distorted into a grimace. Leaning his head on his knees, he covered his head with one of his pillows and a silent cry escaped his lips.

It hurt! He felt as if a sledgehammer had hit him right in the head, causing it to spin like mad while pain was coursing through his brain!

Cautiously peeking his eyes open in hopes of getting rid of the dizziness, he was shocked when his vision blurred, making him feel nauseous. Bile was rising in his throat and he knew he was about to vomit when his eyes failed him completely. For a moment he couldn't see anything at all.

What was happening to him?

Rubbing at his eyes, he looked around frantically but nothing changed.

What was the meaning of this? What was going on?

Clenching his eyes shut tightly, his frenzied heartbeat thundered in his ears. A distressed whine escaped him and if he hadn't been so distracted he might have been surprised at how animalistic it had sounded.

Suddenly his hearing came rushing back to him. Faint voices could be heard downstairs. Someone was moving around in the kitchen. A key was dropped on the floor. Curses. Someone was running around.

Was he supposed to hear all of that?

Carefully he opened his eyes and his bedroom came into focus. Squinting his eyes close again, he winced at the sudden sharpness and intensity of the room.

Taking a few breaths, he tried to calm himself. Had he just imagined that his eyes had become even better than before? Opening them again, the room was surprisingly normal.

What the HELL was going on? That conversation just now had been as loud as if somebody had screamed right into his ears! And why had it been possible for him to catch all of those noises?

And then that freaky vision problem of his of just now. What had been up with that?

And downstairs in the kitchen during breakfast that meat craving had been really strange.

And the day before, after encountering his deformed friend... he blushed furiously and could barely suppress a mortified groan... when he had run into Charlie …

He hid his face in the pillow, embarrassed.

He had run into a muscular human brick wall and stumbled. In a moment of déjà vu a mop of red hair flashed in front of his eyes and strong arms tried to steady him but before Charlie could be of any help he tripped over Harry's foot. Twisting their bodies in mid-air, the redhead cushioned their fall and Harry landed unceremoniously on top of him.

All air was knocked out of him, forcing him to take large gasps.

Underneath him, Charlie grunted.

“Sorry...” Harry mumbled into the redhead's strong neck. He smelled of wild and open fire, burned wood and the faint aroma of freshly ground coffee.

Muscles shifted beneath him into a more comfortable position.

“No problem. My fault.” Charlie said and his words resonated in Harry's chest. Moving to sit up, Harry paused when suddenly an unfamiliar smell rose to his nose. Confusion marred his face and he cocked his head to the side in curiosity. Leaning in again, Harry sniffed along the other's throat. Strangely enough the unfamiliar smell spiked at that.

Hit by mortification he flushed a bright red, scrambled off of Charlie hastily, and fled as fast as his shaky legs could carry him to his room.

Why had Charlie smelled like THAT? Was he interested in him?

Shaking his head, Harry tried to get rid of the lingering thoughts. And why had HE reacted like that?

He wasn't even gay for god's sake!

And how could he even be able to smell something like that? Was that even humanly possible? And even weirder was that he had known instinctively what that smell had been.

Groaning, he let himself fall back onto the mattress, hugged the pillow to his chest and stared at the white ceiling, lost.

Arousal.

Groaning again, he rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the crook of his arm.

Seriously?!

Could his life get any weirder?

First, a strange obsession with a shirt that was still not thrown away.

Second, the fact that he could suddenly see without his glasses. And just now it had become even better than ever before!

Third, craving all sorts of meat, no matter how bad they had been prepared. He snorted to himself at that one.

Forth, that hearing problem that made the noises of the house almost too loud.

Fifth, apparently a guy – namely Charlie – found him sexy...!?

And finally, he had strange instincts telling him all kinds of things he didn't really want to know and hadn't been aware of before. For example, CHARLIE finding him SEXY...?!

When had his life turned upside down and become like this?

His holidays had been as normal as they could have been up until the fight in the fields.

He startled. Now that he thought about it, everything had gone downhill from the moment Greyback had charged at him and had bitten him at the junction of his neck.

He paused. Sitting back up, he moved into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. Wide eyed, he stared at his reflection. His eyes were unusually green in his pale face but maybe it was just his imagination.

Shaking his head, he gingerly pulled away the collar of his shirt to look at the wound. With his breath held, he probed at the scar left behind by the injury.

Could it be...? No, it was not possible. It hadn't been a full moon.

But it had scarred really fast. Abnormally so.

Abruptly, his heart beat pounded like crazy. Pulling the collar of his shirt back up forcefully, he hurriedly left the bathroom and came to a halt in his bedroom.

Distressed, he took in lungfuls of air and stared at the rumbled bed, unfocused.

But what if...?

He ruffled his hair, making it an even bigger mess than it had been before.

What if it was true...?

What if there was a possibility that he could be...? Or was it possible that he was already...?

Maybe he should go to the library and see if there was even the slightest chance...

Hell, he sounded a lot like Hermione...

XXXXXXXXXXX

“Is everyone here?” Mrs Weasley asked and looked around for all the children. After she had made sure that everyone was there and hadn't landed somewhere else – distantly she remembered Harry's first floo travel – she shooed them out of the Leaky Cauldron and to the entrance to Diagon Alley.

“So what do we need besides the things for school?” The Weasley matriarch asked.

“Rights and judicial loopholes for the modern magical creature by Mr. Eugene White. Flourish and Blotts.” Hermione piped up.

“Owl treats.” Ginny added, looking knowingly at Hermione.

“Sweets.” Ron interjected, oblivious to it all.

“Potion's ingredients...”

“...lots of potion's ingredients.”

Mrs Weasley glared at her twin sons. “I swear, Frederic and George, if you use those on any of your siblings again you will not be happy in the near future.” She threatened.

“We swear, Mother...”

“... we won't.” The twins answered and grinned at each other.

Suspiciously, their mother regarded them a moment longer. Nodding to herself as if coming to an internal decision she let it slide and asked. “You still haven't told me what you are going to do in the future. Are you sure you don't want to go back to school for your N.E.W.T.s? I'm sure Professor Dumbledore wouldn't mind letting you return.”

“We are sure, Mother...”

“... we are not...”

“... the scholarly type...”

“... as we've told you...”

“... countless times before.”

They looked at each other and their grins became even larger, if that was possible, and they said. “As for our future...”

“... we plan...”

“... to open...

“... a successful business...”

“... endeavour and we already have...”

“... a silent partner...”

Looking at them doubtfully – her sons were only 18, after all – Mrs Weasley turned to the rest and said.

“Ok, let's go children. Fred and George will do their own shopping while we will do the school shoppings. After that we can split up. Let's meet up in the Leaky Cauldron again at lunch.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Do we have everything now?” Mrs Weasley asked, leaving Flourish and Blotts, carrying lots of bags.

“Harry still needs a new broom kit.” Ron said.

Shortly before they had left Grimmauld Place the redhead had gone to his best friend to see if he needed anything from Diagon Alley. And indeed, he had received a short list.

He was a bit concerned because Harry had seemed out of breath and his hair had seemed even messier than usual. But upon asking if everything was okay, his friend had replied that everything was alright. Of course, he hadn't really believed him, but he hadn't really wanted to pester him any further. He could very well imagine that his friend was pissed. He would probably feel the same if their roles were reversed.

“Anything else?” Mrs Weasley asked.

“Owl treats for Pig and Hedwig.” Ginny said and then looked at the other girl. “And I'm sure Hermione could get something for Crookshanks.”

Hermione nodded and said. “I need a new collar for him.”

“Okay then let's go to Broomstix first and then to the Magical Menagerie.” Mrs Weasley said and turned into the direction of the first shop. She started to make her way surprisingly agilely through the masses of bustling witches and wizards. Hurrying after her, they had problems keeping up with her fast pace so that they bumped into someone every now and then.

Momentarily losing her out of their sight, they felt relieved when they spotted her talking with Seamus Finnigan's mother in front of Broomstix. They rushed over to them and stopped next to their school mate who instantly fell into ramblings about his stay in Italy and his encounter with local pyromaniacs.

Torn between listening to the animated tale and getting the broom kit for his best friend, Ron hesitated for a moment, but then made a mad dash into the store to get the kit so that he would miss as little as possible of the story.

Only seconds later, Ron came back with it, grinning from ear to ear, and was about to join in again when Mrs Weasley noticed the purchase and hurried them along.

Defeated, Ron grumbled under his breath as he saw the twins coming out of the apothecary. He turned his attention to his mother and asked. “Why can't you just force them to tell you what they're going to do?”

“I am their mother, Ronald, not their keeper.” Mrs Weasley answered.

“But I really want to know.” He said.

Exasperated, Mrs Weasley said. “Even if I tried to, they probably wouldn't tell me the truth. You know how they are.”

“But-”

“Get a grip, Ron!” Ginny growled. “Stop being such a whiny child.”

“I didn't ask you, Gin.”

Ginny was about to retort something but Mrs Weasley said. “Stop it, you two.”

Glaring at each other for a moment longer, they dropped the conversation and turned their attention back to their surroundings, not noticing the dark alley they passed.

They didn't need long to reach the Magical Menagerie and after a short while the girls were done with their shopping. On their way back to the Leaky Cauldron Ron was just complaining about the lack of food when he noticed someone standing in the shadows.

“What a weirdo.” Ron mumbled to himself.

“Who are you talking about?” Ginny asked her brother.

“Don't you see him? That guy over there.” He said and pointed to a man who was standing in a dark side road, facing a wall.

“It's rude to point at people!” Hermione admonished.

“But Hermione! Just look at that guy!”

“Maybe he's not feeling well.” Hermione argued. “No reason to stare just because of it. Or would you like people watching you when you're feeling ill?”

“Well, I guess you're right.” Ron admitted a bit reluctantly.

“Then let's get going or Mum is going to throw a fit if we don't hurry up.” Ginny said.

“Yeah, I'd like to get back to Harry. He didn't seem all that happy.” Ron said and left the previous conversation behind.

“Oh? Why's that?” Ginny wanted to know.

“He wanted to come but wasn't allowed to. What do you expect, Ginny? That he's happy that he's the only one left behind at Grimmauld Place?” Ron explained.

“When have you gotten so sensitive all of a sudden?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Hey! Just because I tend to be thick doesn't mean I'm completely ignorant to my best friend's feelings!”

Hermione smiled at him and said. “I'm so proud of you.”

Ron's face flushed and he mumbled. “Well, it's just that I'd be pretty pissed if I'd be him and were the only one back there.”

Uncomfortable, Ron picked up his speed and followed his mother who was already far ahead. A few feet behind, a pleased Hermione and an amused Ginny strolled after him.

None of them noticed the human shaped shadow subtly following them. Neither did they notice the creepy grin that spread on its features nor did they hear the silent “found you” that formed on its lips.

“Still, I'm glad that Harry's not with us.” Ginny said, her gaze still on her retreating brother's back. “It's a lot safer for him at Grimmauld Place.”

“I agree, but you have to look at it out of Harry's point of view.” Hermione said. “He sees us, allowed to do almost everything we want while he has to stay at home. You know that all he ever wanted was to lead a normal life, and that is taken from him. Not only because of you-know-who and now Greyback, but also because now the Order takes even the smallest bit of normalcy by forbidding him from going to Diagon Alley.”

“I think I can understand that.”

“Not to be rude, but I don't think you can, neither one of us can, because we're not 'The-boy-who-lived'.”

“That may be true, but I still feel better with him at Grimmauld Place. And even though I know that he's completely safe there, I still feel worried.”

“You know you don't need to. There are countless curses and spells on the place to incapacitate intruders but they would only need to work if the enemy knew a way to bypass the Fidelius Charm that is placed on Grimmauld Place and everybody knows there's no way.”
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The Distance In Your Eyes