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Biding My Time: Our Way	By : watchyerback Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 9795 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter
and company are the creation and property of JKR.

CHAPTER ONE:

“Have we
got everything?” Harry Potter glanced at his friends as they
walked along Diagon Alley.

Hermione
Granger peered at the list she was holding. “Almost. Well, just
one more thing, really.”

“What?”
Ron Weasley raked a hand distractedly through his red hair. Bloody
shopping!

“Our
gift to Bill and Phle – I mean, Fleur,” she quickly
amended. “We have to hurry, too. Your mum’s going to want
these things soon.”

“I can’t
believe they forgot so many things at the last minute!” Ron
complained. “We barely have two days to go.”

Harry spotted the annoyance
on Hermione’s face. Ron hadn’t exactly been a great help
on this trip. He’d been complaining non-stop since Mrs. Weasley
had sent them off to run some errands. “I’ll take care of
it,” Harry volunteered, handing his shopping bags to Ron. “You
guys go ahead and give your mum this stuff.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a
look. Typically, it was Ron who actually said it. “Er, maybe
that’s not such a good idea ...”

“Oh for pity’s
-!” Harry nearly swore. It didn’t take a lot to set him
off these days, not since the loss of Dumbledore. “The Death
Eaters are not going to attack in the middle of Diagon Alley! There
are probably more Aurors than shoppers around.”

“Harry, we’re
just worried,” Hermione said reasonably.

The dark-haired teenager
sighed. “Look, just go, okay? I promise I’ll be right
behind you. Can’t take that long to find something.”
Besides, this was probably the best chance Harry had to spend some
time by himself. There were precious few days left between now and
the tasks he had set for himself. Find the horcruxes. Find Snape.
And somehow, kill Voldemort.

Thankfully, Hermione
acquiesced. She nodded, grasped Ron by the wrist and led him
protesting through the crowd. Right before they disappeared from
sight, though, Harry noticed that Hermione’s hand had slipped
lower, so that his friends wove their way through the alley holding
hands.

He frowned. Well, it had
only been a matter of time, really. He didn’t know why he felt
so surprised. Shrugging, the young wizard turned and headed in the
opposite direction.

Behind him, a rough-looking
man in a cloak peeled away from a shop window and followed in his
wake.

Contrary to his prediction,
it took Harry awhile to find a likely-looking shop. He realized at
that point that he’d never really shopped for a wedding gift
before, and that it was a whole different undertaking from buying
gifts for his friends. He’d known Ron and Hermione for years,
and had a clear sense of what they would find interesting.

Harry liked Bill Weasley
well enough, but he was pretty much clueless as to what Bill actually
liked. As for Fleur, he had no idea at all.

So the young wizard started
looking for a generically suitable wedding present, which is a harder
task than it sounds. He was finally down to a starter set of fine
silverware versus a group of crystal goblets, when it happened.

The attack came out of
nowhere. One moment he was standing quietly in front of a display,
waiting for the shopkeeper to show him some wares of a different
design. In the next there was a stabbing pain in his right side.

Harry’s
Quidditch-honed reflexes enabled him to whirl away just as his
attacker moved to stick him again with what looked like a silver
icepick. Instinctively, he kicked at the stranger’s shin. The
man howled and tried to grab him.

The teenager attempted to
run past his attacker while reaching for his wand, but a hard shove
from behind caused him to sprawl headfirst into a table full of
crockery. The wand flew from his fingers.

The stranger lurched
towards the dazed boy, closing the distance fast despite his
lumbering gait. The slim icepick gleamed maliciously in his hand.

Harry scrambled for his
wand, but knew he’d run out of time. He was moving too slowly,
and the man was coming on too fast. A large, meaty hand grasped him
by his shirt.

“Impedimenta!”

Suddenly the man was flying
off his feet. The bulk of him crashed into a wall and slid down into
an unconscious heap on the floor.

“Harry! Harry, are you
alright?” Hermione ran forward, her wand still at the ready in
case the attacker was faking. She had shouted the spell aloud, as
much to distract the would-be assassin as out of sheer nervousness.
When it looked like the man was out for good, she turned her full
attention to her dazed friend. She helped him to his feet.

“Hermione? What’re
you – you didn’t go back, did you?” Harry realized
in an aggravated tone. He knew he should be thankful, but for some
reason he was annoyed, too. He picked up his wand.

For her part, the girl
looked suitably apologetic. “I did. I was almost at the floo
when I got this bad feeling. I shoved the packages at Ron and ran
back. Here,” she said as the tall boy stumbled, “lean on
me a little.”

“Sorry, I’m
still a bit ...” Harry grimaced as he placed his right arm
around her shoulders for support. Hermione placed her arms around his
middle to steady him, and suddenly Harry realized that he was
practically embracing his best friend for the first in what seemed like a
very long time. Hugged, yes. Hermione was a girl and she was a lot
more demonstrative than the two blokes who were her best friends. A
sustained contact like this, though, the last he could remember was
when she had literally rushed into his arms when the three of them
had first been reunited at Sirius’ house, back when Harry had
first found out about the Order of the Phoenix. But there hadn’t
been so many curves to her then.

He cleared his throat,
suddenly feeling embarrassed and awkward. “Maybe I should sit
down for awhile.” He grabbed a stool and gratefully sank down.

“Are you hurt? Oh
Harry, you’re bleeding!” the girl exclaimed.

“I am?” He
looked down at himself but couldn’t see anything. Oh yeah, he’d
been stabbed.

“Not there,”
Hermione said, “here.” She lightly touched a spot on his
right side near the back, just below his ribs.

Harry tried to crane his
neck, but couldn’t see it. “Is it bad?” It wasn’t
painful, at least.

“I’m not sure, I
can’t see it.” Hermione frowned. “Take off your
shirt.”

“You’re joking.”

“This is no time to be
modest! All I can see right now is the blood on your shirt. I need to
look at,” she swallowed, “the damage. I’ll just
lift it, okay?”

He nodded, and felt a sting
as the girl tugged his shirt upwards. Hermione carefully prodded the
area around the wound. He heard her sigh in relief. “It’s
trickling blood but not badly. We should get you back home so the
others can take a look at it and stop the bleeding.” Because
of their peculiar situation, Hermione didn't even think about St.
Mungo's. “How do you feel?”

“Woozy, but that’s
probably because the guy knocked me down.” Harry grimaced as
she pulled his shirt back in place. “Who is he, anyway?”

“Probably a Death
Eater,” the girl surmised, “but I don’t understand
how he got past the Aurors.”

“Merlin’s beard,
what happened here?!” The shopkeeper, newly returned from the
storeroom, gaped at the mess in front of him. He nearly dropped the
boxes he was carrying.

Hermione immediately pointed
at the culprit, who was still unconscious. “That man came in
here and attacked my friend.”

“But why would ...?”
Harry could practically see the shopkeeper’s eyes bugging out
of its sockets as he slowly put things together. Teenage boy. Scar
revealed by mussed up hair. Sudden outbreak of violence. “You,
you’re - oh this is horrible!”

“I’m sorry,”
Harry said quickly. “I’ll pay for any damage -”

“No, no, not at all!”
The balding man was shaking his head emphatically. “Mr. Potter,
sir, it’s an honor! But to have this happen to you in MY shop,
it’s just, just ...” he stammered. “You must not
think badly of us, sir! We really do have good security. I don’t
understand how this could’ve happened.”

He sounded so distressed
that Harry found himself trying to reassure the man that of course he
didn’t think badly of the place, could’ve happened
anywhere really. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Hermione
turning away to stifle a grin.

Finally, she took mercy on
him and interrupted. “I’m sorry, sir, but we have to get
this looked at. If you could do us a favor and explain what happened
to the Aurors? I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”

“Of course, of course!
But please, you must let me do more than that! Here,” the
shopkeeper pushed the boxes he was still holding into the startled
boy’s hands, “take these, free of charge. Is there
anything else you’d like? Something for your girlfriend, maybe?
We have some lovely pins.”

Harry flushed. “She’s
not -”

“I’m not -”
Hermione squeaked.

“There has to be
something,” the shopkeeper waved their protests away. “At
least let me give you a token for your trouble. Here, it’s from
our new line for Hogwarts students.” He grabbed a small velvet
box off of a display table and opened it.

Inside was a platinum
replica of a rampant Gryffindor lion. Even to Harry’s
unschooled eyes, the emblem was exquisitely made. Every line of their
House symbol was etched in precise miniature. A tiny ruby flashed at
the point where the eye was supposed to be. “I don’t
think ...”

“Please.” The
man sounded near tears. “It’s the least we can do for
what’s happened here today.”

When her friend looked like
he was going to protest again, Hermione bent near his ear and
whispered, “Harry, take it and let’s get out of here!
We’ll be stuck here for hours if the Aurors catch us. And we do
need to have your wound looked at.”

Because he was still dizzy,
Harry gave in. The last thing he wanted was to spend hours being
grilled by the Ministry. The shopkeeper happily pinned the Gryffindor
lion on his cloak as Hermione took the boxes of silverware and
crystal from him. As quickly as she could, she ushered her wounded
companion through the shop doors and away.

The shopkeeper stared after
them for a bit, nonplussed at the speed of their exit. Then he turned
his attention to the slumped figure on the floor. His eyes went wide.
Where was the icepick?
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Biding My Time: Our Way