Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Waiting	By : SpiralBreeze Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 6664 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I make any money from this.

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Thank you to JayDee once again for the reviews... wish some more people would review... perhaps if I ask nicely. Please review. Thanks.

Checking his watch again, swearing under his breath, he noticed, for perhaps the hundredth time that it was broken. Why did he still have it? It was stuck on 7:22, but he could have sworn that five minutes ago it had said 7:17. The second hand was twitching, but not trotting forward like it should be. Any minute now, and the Knight Bus would be coming abruptly into view with a bang. 7:30, on the nose. The sun set in the west, behind that old brick warehouse, so it was already dark in this particular alley. Harry began to get nervous. What would he say when he got there? Who would he see first?

“Spare some change sir?”

Harry whirled around, heart racing, hand grabbing at nothing in his pocket.

“I ain't mean ta scare ye, just wanna cupa tea, thas all. Got anyfing ya could stand ta part wit?”

Harry shook his head no, vigorously, snatched his bag from the ground and ran across the alley.

“No English eh? No one speaks the Queens English no more, thas fer sure.”

He needed to have a pee. He spun around to make sure no one else was around and moved to a corner between two buildings to mark his territory. Relief. He could have pissed himself when that woman scared him, asking him for change like that! The nerve of some people! Didn’t they know who he was? The Chosen One! Harry Bloody Fucking Potter, and Potter didn’t give change to anyone. No. No, no, no, no, no,... and finally no.

He needed his money, every single cent of it. It’s not like he could just waltz on into Gringotts ever again and make a withdrawal from his vault. He was a wanted man... those goblins would kill him, if they ever saw his scarred face again.

But that would be a welcome end wouldn’t it? To be dead. Back in that safe place again at Kings Cross. He could board a train and go, move on just like Dumbledore has said. No. Harry shook his head. No, no... no, no, no. This was good, right here was good. What he had was good, right here, right now, waiting for the Knight Bus. The Knight Bus! He almost forgot! He checked his watch ten after seven, good, he still had time. No, he reminded himself, “I have to stick out my wand.”

“Yer wand is stickin’ out lad, button up them pants, ‘fore the crows get at it!” The beggar woman was back, pointing at his crotch with one bony finger.

With horror Harry looked down to see his flaccid penis dangling out of his boxers, pants still unzipped. He quickly righted himself, then ran again, across the street to the corner he had moments ago just vacated. He double checked his clothes. Everything in place. He was so embarrassed. But he reminded himself that it was only a beggar woman, she couldn’t hurt him. He was Harry Potter after all. A wizard, with a wand. He could do it, could just whisper, Avada Kadavra and it would be done with. He pictured that flash of green in his mind. Green. Bright Green, blinding his eyes, flashing, bright green, and she would be gone, still on the pavement, and no one would care because she was a filthy beggar.

He checked his watch, 7:39 pm. Time for him to hold out his wand. Yes. He needed to go. Needed to get back and do whatever it was that he was supposed to be doing at that very moment, if he hadn’t come back to the muggle world. No this wasn’t the muggle world. This was his home, it had always been. Why was he waiting here, this was his home, where was he going to go? To some war torn world, still licking it’s fresh wounds? Well weren’t his wounds fresh too? Weren’t they fresh every day? Didn’t they heal, then bleed, then heal, then bleed, and then heal again, only to bleed again when he brought the razor blade across his arm? Yes, he had fresh wounds too! They weren’t the only ones! He drew the wand from his pocket and tapped it against his thigh. He needed to heal too. He wanted his wounds licked. He tapped a different rhythm now. And checked his watch. 7:32.

He should have stolen that Armenian man’s watch. It was nice. Better than the piece of shit he wore now. The Armenian watch said Rolex on it, but Harry didn’t think it was a real Rolex, nevertheless, it was still nice, and it worked. Oh Harry knew, because he had watched it, counting seconds in his head, making sure the watch ran smoothly. He could have had it, he wouldn’t even have had to use magic. Just slipped it on, and walked out, while Armenian man slept, his hairy chest rising and falling with each breath, his hairy, dry cracked feet, stinking up the entire room, Armenian man didn’t wear socks with his leather loafers, but Armenian man had a nice bloody wrist watch.

It was cooler out this evening, as he sat there waiting. He sighed, and breathed in deeply. This was a good wait. The kind of wait that you just didn’t mind waiting for, not at all. He placed his wand back in his pocket. Tomorrow would be a nice day for waiting too, at another corner of course, he didn’t want to run into the beggar woman, and he would have a new roommate to look forward to, Armenian man would be gone, and so would his watch, Harry thought bitterly. He might as well just get it over with and wave down the Knight Bus. It was getting late. 7:22 already! Oh no! Harry thought, it’s much too late. “I’ll just head back home then.” He spoke out loud.

“You do that hon, you’ll catch yer death out ‘ere.”

Harry snatched his bag and ran all the way back to the hostel. He could wait there. It'll be safe until tomorrow when he goes back to magic. Tomorrow will be a much better day for traveling on the bus, and waiting outside.

To be continued...
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