Outsides (005)
Title: Outsides
Author: sa-kun
Fandom: Harry Potter, Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Harry Potter, Bobby Singer
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 869
Prompt: 005, outsides
Summary: Harry decides to undertake a new experiment: how to drive a car.
Disclaimer: I do not own.
Author's Notes/Warnings: Profanity. Spoilers for book 7 (HP), none for SPN. Part of my crossover series: start here.
Harry had a project. He'd had several so far: travel the world, move to America, find a house - or cottage, as it turned out - move in, decorate a bit, get comfortable, set up the Veil, and so on. His latest project had been to build a greenhouse. It wasn't big, but it was his. Potions had never been his strong forte, but there was a nifty, lesser known branch of magic called Herblore that was rather useful to him.
From the plants he could make incense, small bags of protective herbs, cleanse rooms, houses, buildings and lands, all depending on how much he used, and how powerful the plant. He could infuse it, make teas and ward his house.
Besides, the blue text liked it.
Harry had realised by now that the blue text had something to do with the Hallows. Possibly from their creator, possibly from the last one to Master them.
So his greenhouse outside, not too far from his little cottage, was filled with beds and tables, the soil rich and new and just waiting for the seeds and plants to grow.
But that wasn't what his latest project had to do with. No, Harry had decided that he needed to know how to drive. He was twenty-three years old, living as a Muggle among Muggles, sort of. More to the point, he was living in the middle of a forest in the middle of nowhere at the end of a gravel road. Yeah, he may not have had a lot of neighbours, but the fact the he couldn't drive and yet had a motorcycle… Well, some might find that a little strange.
Sirius had left him the bike. Harry had let Hagrid keep it for a while, but Hagrid had convinced Harry to take it sometime before Harry left England to travel around the globe. Before he settled down in this rural part of South Dakota, Harry had done his best to see the world outside of England. Most of it had been Muggle, but there were pockets tucked away with Magical people in most places. The Antipodes, for example, had more witches and wizards than the UK. Africa was rife with magic, as was most of everything between India and Japan, although none of it was the kind of magic Harry was used to. In that part of Asia, the magic had altered a lot from country to country as well.
So, this day, about a month after Harry first moved in, Harry shouldered a rucksack and tucked in a knapsack and a few bottles of water as well as the latest book he was reading. Outside, a new, if used, bicycle was waiting for him. It would take him almost two hours, but he would reach his destination. He did it every week, not only to buy food and supplies, but also to let the people of the city see him and know that he was still alive.
-x-
"Oh, fuck you, bitch!" Harry ground out. "And you, too, you buggering hole; don't think I can't see you!" he declared, pointing an accusatory finger at the not-so-innocent hole on the ground. It had been just sharp and deep enough to flatten the front tire of his bike.
"S'just a hole, kid," a man behind him drawled.
Harry whirled around. "It broke my bike!" he protested. "Look! I can't buy groceries now, much less get home!"
Just Harry's luck, wasn't it? Because of the man that had just happened to witness Harry's accident, he couldn't exactly use magic. Or apparate, which, yeah, was magic as well, so.
The stranger narrowed his eyes a little. "You ain't that kid living in that ol' cabin in the middle of smack-dab nowhere, are you?"
Harry cleared his throat. "I am."
"Whatcha doing on a friggin' bike?"
"I like the exercise," Harry lied. Well, sort of lied. He didn't mind it, per se, but it was more than a bit tedious.
The man scoffed. "Yeah, right. You need a hand?"
Harry smiled, his eyes at once wide and grateful. "Would you? I'd pay, of course, and-"
"-pay some attention so you know what to do next time?" the man bit off. "Now get your ass in here, will ya?"
'In here' turned out to be a workshop full of oil, car parts and tools.
"So, um, who are you, then?" Harry wondered, poking a little at something that looked like a deformed screwdriver.
"Bobby Singer," the man muttered.
"I'm Harry Potter," Harry promptly answered. "I was actually looking for someplace where I could learn how to drive. You wouldn't happen to know a good place, would you? I'm afraid I don't know the first thing about cars."
"You ain't got no clue how to handle a car and you've got yourself halfway across the globe to a forest in fuck all nowhere."
Harry pursed his lips. "I flew. Then I rode my bicycle. Oh, and my godfather left me his motorcycle, but I don't know how to drive that one, either."
"Yeah? What kind?"
Harry cleared his throat. "Well, it's big and black. And heavy."
"Don't know, do you?"
Harry wet his lips. "It's a motorcycle."
Sequel: Hours
Author: sa-kun
Fandom: Harry Potter, Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Harry Potter, Bobby Singer
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 869
Prompt: 005, outsides
Summary: Harry decides to undertake a new experiment: how to drive a car.
Disclaimer: I do not own.
Author's Notes/Warnings: Profanity. Spoilers for book 7 (HP), none for SPN. Part of my crossover series: start here.
Harry had a project. He'd had several so far: travel the world, move to America, find a house - or cottage, as it turned out - move in, decorate a bit, get comfortable, set up the Veil, and so on. His latest project had been to build a greenhouse. It wasn't big, but it was his. Potions had never been his strong forte, but there was a nifty, lesser known branch of magic called Herblore that was rather useful to him.
From the plants he could make incense, small bags of protective herbs, cleanse rooms, houses, buildings and lands, all depending on how much he used, and how powerful the plant. He could infuse it, make teas and ward his house.
Besides, the blue text liked it.
Harry had realised by now that the blue text had something to do with the Hallows. Possibly from their creator, possibly from the last one to Master them.
So his greenhouse outside, not too far from his little cottage, was filled with beds and tables, the soil rich and new and just waiting for the seeds and plants to grow.
But that wasn't what his latest project had to do with. No, Harry had decided that he needed to know how to drive. He was twenty-three years old, living as a Muggle among Muggles, sort of. More to the point, he was living in the middle of a forest in the middle of nowhere at the end of a gravel road. Yeah, he may not have had a lot of neighbours, but the fact the he couldn't drive and yet had a motorcycle… Well, some might find that a little strange.
Sirius had left him the bike. Harry had let Hagrid keep it for a while, but Hagrid had convinced Harry to take it sometime before Harry left England to travel around the globe. Before he settled down in this rural part of South Dakota, Harry had done his best to see the world outside of England. Most of it had been Muggle, but there were pockets tucked away with Magical people in most places. The Antipodes, for example, had more witches and wizards than the UK. Africa was rife with magic, as was most of everything between India and Japan, although none of it was the kind of magic Harry was used to. In that part of Asia, the magic had altered a lot from country to country as well.
So, this day, about a month after Harry first moved in, Harry shouldered a rucksack and tucked in a knapsack and a few bottles of water as well as the latest book he was reading. Outside, a new, if used, bicycle was waiting for him. It would take him almost two hours, but he would reach his destination. He did it every week, not only to buy food and supplies, but also to let the people of the city see him and know that he was still alive.
-x-
"Oh, fuck you, bitch!" Harry ground out. "And you, too, you buggering hole; don't think I can't see you!" he declared, pointing an accusatory finger at the not-so-innocent hole on the ground. It had been just sharp and deep enough to flatten the front tire of his bike.
"S'just a hole, kid," a man behind him drawled.
Harry whirled around. "It broke my bike!" he protested. "Look! I can't buy groceries now, much less get home!"
Just Harry's luck, wasn't it? Because of the man that had just happened to witness Harry's accident, he couldn't exactly use magic. Or apparate, which, yeah, was magic as well, so.
The stranger narrowed his eyes a little. "You ain't that kid living in that ol' cabin in the middle of smack-dab nowhere, are you?"
Harry cleared his throat. "I am."
"Whatcha doing on a friggin' bike?"
"I like the exercise," Harry lied. Well, sort of lied. He didn't mind it, per se, but it was more than a bit tedious.
The man scoffed. "Yeah, right. You need a hand?"
Harry smiled, his eyes at once wide and grateful. "Would you? I'd pay, of course, and-"
"-pay some attention so you know what to do next time?" the man bit off. "Now get your ass in here, will ya?"
'In here' turned out to be a workshop full of oil, car parts and tools.
"So, um, who are you, then?" Harry wondered, poking a little at something that looked like a deformed screwdriver.
"Bobby Singer," the man muttered.
"I'm Harry Potter," Harry promptly answered. "I was actually looking for someplace where I could learn how to drive. You wouldn't happen to know a good place, would you? I'm afraid I don't know the first thing about cars."
"You ain't got no clue how to handle a car and you've got yourself halfway across the globe to a forest in fuck all nowhere."
Harry pursed his lips. "I flew. Then I rode my bicycle. Oh, and my godfather left me his motorcycle, but I don't know how to drive that one, either."
"Yeah? What kind?"
Harry cleared his throat. "Well, it's big and black. And heavy."
"Don't know, do you?"
Harry wet his lips. "It's a motorcycle."
Sequel: Hours