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Future Lost	By : Wolfiekins Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Ron Views: 1767 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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
- 1-Future Lost
- 1
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, never will be. All HP characters belong to JKR and Warner Brothers, etc, etc, etc. Everything else, mistakes included, belong to me.

There are so many sources that are drawn upon as the basis for this fic that it would be impossible to list them all. Needless to say, hours of Star Trek, Star Wars, Farscape, The Butterfly Effect and the like have all contributed elements.

I’m deeply grateful to Evil Auntie Snape for her undying support, encouragement and initial beta, and to my dearest Thevina for her spot on and amazing final beta. Without you both, I’m nothing.

For Koshie...

Written August 2006. This story has been honoured by being TWICE selected as a featured story at THE QUIDDITCH PITCH. I can't even begin to say how awesome that is...

~~~~~ FUTURE LOST ~~~~~

Record: dsc_100mcf1138/potter731/d:mystuff/memos
16 Sep 2016 00:07:53 GMT
Mode:wide Security:public
~*rec*~

The Future.

Bright, shiny, filled with happy, smiling people.

Everything’s fine and everyone’s great.

Sure it is.

Right.

Right load of bullshit, that.

Trust me, I know. I’m there. Here. Whatever.

And I’ve been where you are, in the not so distant past, all happy and snug in that little house of yours. Enjoy it while you can. Suck it up, mate, ‘cause it’s all going away a lot sooner than you think.

Sorry to rain on your parade, really I am. Of course there’s nothing you can do, even if you happen to believe me. Because even if you did believe me, no one would sure as shite believe you. Just the way of it, sweets. This isn’t some cranked out Muggle time travel film. No heroes valiantly saving the day by killing the bad guy in the past. Or future. Or whatever the fuck. Nothing but the here and now. Course, you’ve got yours and I’ve got mine, and never the twain shall meet.

Sort of like that waxing poetic thing.

No, people can’t freely move about in time, the handful of remaining Time-Turners not withstanding. But things can. Objects. Constructs. Right smart little robots, really. That’s how you’re seeing this holo-vid. Sodding expensive little buggers, the ‘bots. Harder than boomslang skin to get, too. And they don’t last. You can see what’s left of them after the transition.

Just know that there are lots of new gadgets in the future. Some good, some not so good. Muggles can do astounding things if they put their minds to it. That’s how you‘re getting all this. Simple little recording device with a minor alteration. Then, I adjust my standard Legilimency spell, and there it is. The ‘corder archives everything I see, hear, and think. And you get a front row seat. Sort of.

It takes a bit of getting used to, though. You’ll see what I see, hear what I hear, but you’ll also hear my thoughts in between it all. Isn’t technology grand? Until it swaggers up and bites you on the arse, that is.

But I digress.

So I’m in London, by the way. Not that you could tell. All the old cities look the same. Blasted. Ruined. Destroyed, but not dead. Oh no, they still live. Shrivelled burned husks of their former selves, but they go on, after a fashion.

Funny that.

I usually stay away from the big cities. Much safer out in the wilder areas. Most of us, witches and wizards I mean, did okay. Most of us survived. We’d always kept to ourselves; it had been our way for centuries. Even so, there was no way we could escape the apocalypse the Muggles loosed upon themselves.

And we always thought that Riddle was the greatest threat to our world, the beast. Imagine our surprise when we discovered that it was really us all along.

The Ministry saw it coming, of course. That moron Scrimgeour could’ve intervened. A dozen well-cast Imperios and a handful of Confundus Charms would have done the trick, but our intrepid Minister of Magic refused to interfere.

Stupid fuck.

Some of us tried, you should know. We tried and we failed. Stopped by our own, convicted and imprisoned.

I wish I could have seen Scrimgeour’s face when that mushroom cloud blossomed over London…oh, yeah, the city’s still mostly intact. The Bomb just took out the people. I wasn’t there, of course, but I saw the news footage, both Muggle and ours, right after I’d escaped from Azkaban. It almost seemed like the cruellest of hoaxes, a demented fabrication, but it wasn’t.

Because I’d seen the survivors by then. What the Bomb did to them. And not all at once, mind. Real slow it was, not very pretty at all. Never would have thought that flesh could just slough off like that…

But life goes on. Some semblance of it, anyway. We wizarding types keep on, as do they. I’m not sure who’s more pathetic, really.

Anyway, so here I am back in London, skulking about after midnight, barely a few blocks from where The Leaky Cauldron once stood. Rather barren in the old neighbourhood these days.

I’m huddling in an alley, my hood up, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of my jeans. It’s raining. Of course it is. It always is. Never stops around here. Barely enough sun to dry up the puddles. And it’s cold. Nuclear winter, don’t you know. I usually don’t make it up this far north. Way too dreary and bleak. Even down in St. Kitts it barely gets above eighty degrees in high summer.

Besides, it takes me forever to Apparate way the hell up here.

Okay, enough of the weather forecast.

An old double-decker rattles past, belching acrid smoke. It lurches to a stop at the nearby corner, disgorging a rather large, hooded form. The bus nearly stalls, gears grinding as it rattles away down the trash-strewn street. The shadow looks about, getting its bearings.

Then it moves towards me, hunched over, dragging one leg in a loping limp.

Muggle.

How he found it, and then me, is sort of a fucking mystery. Sure, it’s not exactly a secret that our kind covets these things, and I am who I am, so there it is. Still, I’ve never been one to look a gift thestral in the mouth. He had a holo of the merchandise, and it looked authentic enough.

The fact that the guy sent the package by owl was quite impressive.

Oh, right. Here in the future, we wizards aren’t so secretive anymore. One good thing about the Apocalypse: most of the old barriers fell. That, and about four billion inhabitants of good old planet Earth.

Cue the cockroaches.

Nice, yeah?

My ‘friend’ approaches, his head darting back and forth, as though there might actually be someone else out strolling about in this stinking, acid rain.

“Hey!” I call out loudly.

He jumps so that he nearly falls over into the gutter.

I chuckle, stepping out onto the sidewalk. He whirls about, pausing a moment. I see his hand reach inside his jacket. I’m faster, whipping my wand out in a flash.

Thunder roils and grumbles across the sky.

He freezes, slowly raising his hands above his head.

Lightning flashes again, momentarily blinding me, but leaving me with a lovely image of his scarred face seared into my vision.

“Hey! It’s me!” he croaks, nodding enthusiastically.

I approach him, my wand at arm’s length, until the tip touches his extremely active Adam’s apple.

“One wrong move,” I hiss.

Hey, what can I say? I love a little drama.

He gasps, his breath rattling deeply within his chest. Poor bastard. Probably has the Hacks. Delayed reaction, that little bug. Nothing for it.

"Well? Prove it," I sneer. I attempt to look the slightest bit loony. It works. His watery eyes go wide. "Let's hear it!" I growl, poking his throat mercilessly.

"Cannons in The Cup!" he splutters, his eyes bulging. "The Cannons in The Cup!"

I was pretty sure that he was my contact; now I'm certain. I pull my wand back slightly.

He nods his shaggy head vigourously. “Put that stick 'o yours down, mate!” he wheezes. “I’ve got what you want! Right here in me pocket! Jes’ let me show ya!”

I hold my wand to his throat a bit longer than I have to.

What?

Yeah, so I’ve become sort of an arsehole. Shit happens, mate.

Suppressing a chuckle, I withdraw my wand. “Let me see it. No funny stuff!”

Good thing it’s rather dark, or the slimer might see my barely hidden grin.

He nods once more, slowly moving one hand down and inside his jacket.

I flick my wand at him, and if he didn’t piss his pants right then, I’d be surprised. Must need the money really badly to go through all this trouble. So many other commodities to deal with than magical artefacts.

You know, like food. Water. Boring things like that.

The rain lets up slightly and I step closer to him. I reflexively cast a Lumos and the guy nearly jumps out of his skin. I’d almost forgotten how the Muggle media blamed all the shite that went down on the Wizarding world. Made us out to be the villains of the piece, the cause of all the ill will in the world, the real catalyst for the apocalypse. As if we’d really care about the price of petroleum products on the open market.

Don’t get me wrong, I really like Muggles, but they can be totally idiotic sometimes.

Most times.

Whatever.

He pauses a moment longer, and I flick my wand impatiently. Okay, not my wand.

His.

Lost mine right after the apocalypse deal.

Anyway, my ‘friend’ is slowly pulling his hand out of his cloak. He smiles crookedly, offering up his prize for me to see.

Even in the gloom, in the rain, I can tell it’s what I’ve been looking for.

And it’s my turn to gasp.

The ebony box shines in the illumination of my wand and the nearby streetlamp. And it’s one of the big ones, holding at least six vials. The droplets of rain bead and quickly run off of its richly varnished surface. I can barely contain my glee at how perfectly preserved the box is.

At least I didn’t waste a trip.

“Give it to me,” I snarl menacingly. Sometimes I can’t believe the things I do.

He nods, shoving the box toward me. I take it, at once feeling its aura. Oh yeah, it’s the real thing. Warm, powerful. I can sense that the seal hasn’t been breeched. I move the box closer to my face, straining to make out the labelling. I kick up the wand light a few notches…

The Ministry crest is there, as is the ID tag: RBW/30-07-07/mom:327/334/897:6

My heart nearly leaps out of my mouth. More lightning flashes, more thunder, and before I know it, I clutch the box to my chest.

Hey, give me a break. Just because the nob had sent me a holo-vid of what I wanted didn’t mean that he’d actually have the thing.

That’s right. I’ve become a right bloody cynic, too. Just wait…you’ll see.

When I look up, he’s smiling at me. A big, shite eating grin. I raise my wand again, pointing the tip at his nose. His grin evaporates instantly.

“Wot? S’okay, ain’t it? Just likes I said it t’was, innit? You saw the holo!”

“Yeah,” I reply, slowly dropping my wand to my side. “Where’d you get it?” I ask roughly.

He blinks at me, his mouth moving up and down but no sound coming out. I roll my eyes and sigh. He gulps twice.

“Small village. St. Ottery something. Nothing much left of it. An old barn, it was, I think.”

I raise my wand swiftly and jab his chest. “You think?”

I just love being a bastard…

“Wot I been told,” he spluttered. “Wasn’t there meself, jes’ got it from a friend, really!”

I knew he was telling the truth. But I fucked with him anyway. So sue me.

“How do I know it’s real?” I lean in closely, nearly gagging at his smell of gin and vomit. “These can be faked, you know.”

He shakes his head again. “You can see it’s real. I don’t screw about with fakes…” He swallowed hard, sparing me a glance. “And I’d never fuck with you, laddie.”

I hold my expression for what seems like an eternity.

He shifts about nervously, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was ready to explode.

“Fine,” I hiss. “Get the fuck out of here.”

He hesitates a moment, frowning. I raise my eyebrows menacingly, prodding him with my wand. Again.

“I wont me money,” he replies softly.

I had to hand it to him; he had balls. Points that. Otherwise, he was getting on my nerves. I conjured the pouch of galleons, slamming it into his upturned paw.

His eyes goggle at the pouch and he fumbles with the ties, dumping the contents into his palm. He licks his lips as he pokes through the singed gold, tiny giggles squeaking out of him.

It’s all I can do to suppress sniggers of my own. I mean really, how creepy can this guy get? I slip the box into my jacket pocket while he’s busy counting the galleons. “It’s all there,” I offer blandly.

He nods, another coughing fit wracking his body. He hacks up something and spits, wiping his quivering lips with the back of his hand.

Nice.

“Yeh, it is,” he manages, struggling to clear his throat.

“Right then,” I return, slowly backing away. I’m still gripping my wand, but I’ve let my arm drop to my side. “Well, it’s been a slice, and I’d love to hang about, but you know how it is. If you ever run across another item like this, be sure to let me know.”

He just leers at me.

Shite eating grin, version two.

Fuck. I’m really not in the mood.

“Sure laddie, next time,” he rasps thickly and rams the coins into his pocket. He smiles widely. “Or not!”

I barely have time to swear before I feel the cold muzzle of some sort of weapon press against the back of my neck. Gun, tazer, blaster. All the same. Bloody Muggle crudity all the way around.

“Awww, c’mon,” I sigh. “You were doing so well.”

He puts out his hand and flicks his fingers at me. “Let’s have it, you rat bastard mutant!”

Yeah, that’s what the Muggles took to calling us when all hell broke lose. Lovely, isn't it?

Arsehole number two roughly jabs the muzzle of whatever it is into my skin. I feel a hand clamp on my shoulder. Just then, it starts to rain again. Hard. And it’s cold, too.

Shite! Why does everything have to be done the hard way? I slowly move to pull the box from my pocket. “Let’s not do this,” I say evenly. “I really don’t want to kill you.”

I just love talking that way.

He laughs at me, and I’m treated to a few more jabs to my neck.

“No chance o’ that, laddie,” he replies, taking a step closer. “One o’ us ain’t leavin’ this sidewalk, and it ain’t gonna be me!”

Circe’s Tits, here we go.

I hear the tiny click next to my right ear, then the telltale little whine of the blaster powering up. I know I only have about three seconds…

Lightning flashes and I stab out with my Legilimency. It’s enough to stun both of my ‘friends’ for an instant, but that’s all the time we need. Thunder rolls as a flash of green erupts behind me. I whip my wand up as something heavy falls at my feet. I advance a step, the wand tip pressed to the Muggle’s chest. His eyes are wide. He knows what we’re capable of. He tries to back away but loses his balance on the curb, landing on his arse in the trash-strewn gutter. He frantically pulls the galleons from his pocket, holding them up to me. Several of the coins slip from his fingers and disappear into the puddles of water.

“Oy! Fair play!” he gasps, his hand shaking. “Jes’ take yer gold and the box and be gone! Ya got me, mate, ya got me!”

I hear heavy foot steps running up behind me. I smile my most frightening smile. It works. He drops more galleons as he tries to crawl away.

“Jes’ take it an’ go!” he wails miserably. “I’ll never bother ya again, my honest oath!”

At this point, I just wish he’d shut up. Oh, and I think you know what I’m going to do. As he said, fair play.

“Get up!” I spit out.

He complies, slowly turning toward me with his hands up.

“Sweet Jesus,” he splutters, closing his eyes.

“What're you waiting for?” I sneer.

His eyes pop open almost as if I’d pressed a button. “Wot?”

I flick my wand up the street. He pauses a moment before dropping his arms. A slight grin spreads across his face. He nods and starts to slowly back away.

“Harry!” Seamus calls out a bit too loudly. “Are you right?”

I nod tersely as Seamus skids to a stop at my side. He’s a great bloke, but he can really drive me up a wall at times.

“You’re lettin’ him go?” Seamus asks incredulously.

My contact snorts loudly, his shite eating grin on full display. “Next time, ‘arry!” he drawls.

If there was a way to twist the slimer’s head off with my bare hands, I’d be doing it right this instant. Fucking rat bastard!

“Oy!” I call out. “Didn’t get yours.”

He laughs. “Fergus, laddie. Catch you next time.”

“You’re not…” Seamus began.

I snort loudly, raising my wand again. “No, love, I’m not.” I smile as old Fergus’ eyes nearly pop out of his skull. “Later, fuckwad!”

He turns to run, and I let him get maybe twenty feet before I scream the incantation.

Fergus falls in a tangled heap, galleons spilling into the filthy street. I jog over to his body and start picking the coins up. No point in letting them go to waste. Seamus clomps up to me, clearly impatient to get out of the rain. He starts tapping the toe of one of his battered Doc Martens against the cobblestones.

“Wot in bloody ‘ell are ya doin? Not the time to skive for change in the street, is it.”

I grab a few more galleons, slipping them into my pocket as I stand and turn around.

“Waste not, want not,” I reply with more than a bit of cheek. Seamus rolls those incredibly gorgeous hazel eyes at me. Sorry mate, but he’s gone, and a bloke’s got to move on.

You’ll understand.

I hate to say that, but it’s the truth.

“Well?” Seamus queries roughly. “Was it legit?”

I nod, pulling the end of the box from my pocket. Seamus casts a Lumos to gain a better view.

“Merlin! A sixer!” He nods, blowing on the tip of his wand as it goes dark. “Great. Now let’s get the 'ell out of here. It’s too fucking cold.” He smiles that smile at me, the one that says ‘the only reason I’m doing this is because I love you and I expect a right good shag once we’re back home.’

Hey, works for me.

I nod silently in response, stepping toward him and sliding my hands inside his jacket and under his t-shirt. He presses against me, and I can feel his thick cock pressing against mine. We kiss, the cold rain drenching us to the bone. His tongue slides through my teeth, claiming my mouth. I love it when he does that, and I grind my hips into his in response, his rumbling moan all the thanks I need. The cold rain fades away, and all I can feel is Seamus' probing hands on my arse, his hot lips on mine, and his erection grinding into me.

He pulls away first. He always does.

“Shite. Let’s go,” Seamus says, running a hand across my bulging crotch.

Well, yeah I’m excited things went according to plan, but I’m only human, after all.

I throw my arm about his waist, hooking my thumb into one of his belt loops. We walk through the rain to the Apparation point. I know he’s a romantic at heart, but I don’t dare mention it. Hell hath no fury like an Irishman annoyed.

We reach the entrance to the ruined Tube station. I make to pick my way down the rubble strewn steps, but Seamus reaches out and stops me. I look up, and he’s staring at me with those eyes. You’ve seen them, I know. I look back at him, immediately sorry that I’m such an obsessive arse.

“Hey,” he says.

“No worries, love,” I manage, turning away.

“How many more?” he asks.

Right.

Like I know.

Does it fucking matter?

“As many as there are,” I respond cryptically. I take another step down into the darkness. “You don’t have to come along,” I say, already knowing his response.

He steps next to me, encircling me with his arms. His breath is amazingly hot against the cool, damp skin of my neck.

“Yeah, I do, Harry,” he murmurs, the slightest hint of sadness in his voice. “Wherever you go, I go. I made a promise, and that’s that.”

He hugs me tightly then, and I clasp my hand to his.

And I know what you’re thinking, but believe it.

You’re going to be shagging Seamus Finnigan. And you’re going to like it.

No shite.

Okay, nothing much more to hear from now on, so I’m going to turn off the audio…

~~~*> mute mute off stop rec mute mute off

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Future Lost