Up in the Air - Part 3
When he awoke, Harry could see dawn breaking through the bedroom window and started, as his bedroom had no windows. It took a few seconds for him to register where he was and, more importantly, who he was with. Fumbling for his glasses, he found them on the bedside table, only to realise that he was alone in the bed. Nervously, he looked around for Katie, only to find her brushing her hair at her bureau, combing through the same spot over and over. He felt a pang of guilt as vivid images of their last night’s pursuits trickled into his brain.
He slid from under the covers - how he got there, he didn’t recall - with the intention of saying something, anything to Katie to bring back the spark of life he’d remembered from their time up in the air. Her eyes’ reflection in the mirror bore no resemblance to the woman who had brazenly coaxed him into her bed. That fact made him grossly self-conscious of his waist-down nudity. Flushing, even though no one was looking, he pulled the duvet from the bed and wrapped himself in it.
Harry padded over to stand next to her, hoping that she would be at least willing to talk to him. Katie gave no indication that she either acknowledged his presence or objected to it, so he stood there, staring at a portion of the wall, hoping it would captivate him as much as the hairbrush did for her. For some time, neither of them said anything, but Katie finally snapped the silence.
“I must be so disgusting to you.”
Starting, Harry asked, “Why would I be disgusted by you?”
Finally, Katie broke her concentrated gaze from the mirror and looked up at him. “I… what we did. Nice girls don’t do things like that, and I’m not a nice girl anymore. You’ll always be the guy with the nice girl.”
All Harry could do was gape at her. “Is that what you think? You think I… you really think that of me?”
“Why not?” she said with a shrug. “I think that of me. Why should you be any different?”
Revulsion churned at the pit of his stomach. The mere implication made him nauseous. “Well, if you think I’m that bloody insensitive, then why even bother?” He couldn’t keep the sneer from his voice, no matter how hard he tried to mask it.
“Because I thought I could just do it!” she cried. “I thought we could just both have a fun night together and go our separate ways, because God knows we both needed something. I thought…” She roughly scrubbed her face with her hands. “I thought I was over this.”
He still could hardly understand what she meant. “Over what?”
“You!” she said, almost accusingly. “You are everything I ever wanted in another person. Do you know how painful it is to watch you sleep next to me with the knowledge that, in a couple hours, you’ll walk away and I won’t see you again save for some random chance? That I’ll just end up with some other tosser like Roger because I don’t know anything different?”
Dumbfounded, Harry tried desperately to process what she had just said. He wished he had something of the like to say in return, but there was nothing. She wasn’t anything like the girl he’d always dreamt of being with. She had been before Roger, but that git had slowly but surely beaten down the sweet, soft Katie Bell that he had known for so many years. All that remained was this cynical, made-up shell of a woman who was more likely to drink herself into a stupor than she was to say ‘hello’ to someone on the street. He simply never saw himself falling in with someone like her.
But he had also never expected to feel so directionless. She had asked him if he was happy, and he had acknowledged inwardly that he wasn’t. What he thought he wanted was clearly no longer the case, and it certainly wasn’t what he had needed.
Without another word, Harry went over to the nightstand where his wand had landed and muttered, “I’ll be back,” before Apparating from the room. Seconds later, he was standing in his own foyer, from which he proceeded into his bedroom where a small desk sat covered in his on-going assignments. He used his forearm and roughly scraped them all onto the floor before pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill, scribbling down the first coherent sentences that came to him. Once he had a satisfactory draft, he rolled up the paper and again disappeared with a pop.
This time, his travels took him back to where he had started the previous day. The bustle in the Atrium before everyone rushed off to their respective floors was barely beginning, but it was steady enough that he was compelled to quickly leave the Apparition platform to avoid being bowled over. However, he had no plans on remaining there anyway as he went straight for the security desk. Jim Peakes was there in his usual posture - feet up on the desk with that morning’s Prophet hiding his face. Harry rapped on the desk briskly to get his attention
“Hey, Jim, is Proudfoot in yet?”
Jim raised a brow confusedly. “It’s Sunday, Harry. You know he doesn’t come in on Sunday.”
“Bollocks,” Harry muttered, annoyed with himself for making such a silly error. He would’ve realised that had he taken the time to look at the people who had arrived as he had, who were quite distinctly, once he thought about it, the weekend staff. But Sunday did mean one thing: the Minister would be in for a couple hours to sign forms that needed filing before Monday. This would be Harry’s last chance to do what he had come to do before he lost the nerve. Still hopeful, he asked, “Has Kingsley come in yet?”
“Yeah, about twenty minutes ago,” Jim said, a tinge of nervousness creeping into his voice. “Something wrong, mate?”
“No idea,” Harry said lightly. “Not a clue.” He chuckled before patting the desk in front of a quite confused Jim. “Thanks, Jim.” Leaving behind the very mystified watchman, he strode toward the lifts along with a small flock of chatting women in Accidental Magic Reversal Squad robes. Their subject of conversation quickly shifted, as they often did when he was around, but for once, he didn’t get that niggling feeling of annoyance. Instead, he merely grinned and said, “Good morning, ladies.”
As the lift lurched into motion, Harry couldn’t prise the smile off of his face brought on by the awkward silence surrounding him. Recalling bits of gossip that they had been sharing upon his arrival, he turned around and said, “Oh, in case you were wondering -” looking at the witch on the far right, “- no, I’m not gay, and -” and to the one next to her, “- I don’t really have a dragon tattoo. Thought that one had been debunked years ago.”
Almost on cue, the lift slowed, and the automated voice said, “Level One: Administration.” Harry bowed slightly and said, “It’s been lovely chatting with you, but this is my stop.” The gates clattered open, and he backed out. With a sweeping gesture, he said to the gawking women, “Carry on.”
That should give them some fresh material, he thought with a smirk. He had better things to do than worry about trivial things like busybodies and what they thought. He was fairly certain he didn’t give a damn at all. And that realisation only served to lengthen his stride as he breezed his way through the Ministerial Security checkpoint. His blasé demeanour lasted until he reached the heavy wooden door bearing a shining, gold placard that said:
KINGSLEY SHACKLEBOLT Minister of Magic
At the sight of the name, Harry faltered a bit. Only once had he seen consternation on the composed face of the Minister, even in the midst of turmoil. He wasn’t sure how the man would react to what Harry was going to bring up. But no matter how little he looked forward to disappointment with which he would likely be met, he was still more certain than ever that what he was planning was the right thing to do.
Taking a deep breath, Harry knocked on the door, which was slightly ajar, and despite his resolution, he jumped slightly when Kingsley’s deep voice called, “Come in.” Inside, the Minister was scribbling his signature on an inch-thick stack of forms, one at a time, but when he heard the door close, he set down his quill and looked up. Once he saw who had come, he smiled broadly. “It is good to see you, Harry.”
Nodding, Harry said, “Likewise, sir.” Suddenly a lot more nervous, his gaze drifted down to his shoes as he contemplated the best way of broaching the matter at hand. It would require tact and diplomacy and-
“I’m resigning,” Harry blurted before he completely lost the nerve.
Kingsley raised a brow, looking intently at Harry as if with Legilimency to gauge his level of seriousness. That focus was only broken when Harry tentatively held out the paper that he had unwittingly been crushing in his hand. The Minister considered the offering, took the rumpled parchment and perused it. “Hmm…”
Harry felt obligated to defend his reasoning, but everything that came into his head was jumbled at best. He only got as far as opening his mouth before Kingsley put him out of his misery.
“I have to say, Harry, that while I’m disappointed that we’ll be losing a fine Auror, I wish you well in finding whatever it is you seek.” As he smoothed the note with one tap of his wand, Kingsley added, “Do you have any particular plans for your newfound free time?”
Relief pooled in Harry’s stomach. He had expected to have to explain himself, or even a flat out refusal to accept; the understanding from Kingsley reminded Harry of why the man would likely go down as one of the best and most popular Ministers of Magic in history. His guilt assuaged, Harry finally meted out a reply, “Not particularly.”
If any reaction was expected, grinning wasn’t one of them. “Excellent. I envy you this opportunity, Harry. Ever since you were fifteen, I have worried that you would forget to live once you were caught up in the war.”
Dumbfounded, Harry said, “Er, really?” When he saw nothing but seriousness on Kingsley’s face, he thought out loud, “I suppose so, then. I thought, you know… that everyone would be angry with me and think I let them down.” To that point, Harry had not voiced those fears even to himself, but as he stood across from the Minister of Magic himself, those latent insecurities became a whole lot larger.
He hadn’t expected Kingsley to chuckle and shake his head. “Harry, you defeated the most powerful Dark wizard in history. I don’t think anyone has the right to ask anything more of you that you aren’t willing to give.”
Relief flooded through Harry. “Thank you, sir,” he said, almost more to himself than to Kingsley. A multitude of concerns had just been alleviated, including how he would feel after the deed was done. Any number of things could’ve come over him: regret, self-loathing, uncertainty, emptiness. Yet none of them presented at all - just a sense of wonder that he truly had no more obligations.
Smiling to himself, Harry started to back toward the door. “Well, I should probably be off now. I don’t have to be anywhere, obviously, but -” His back thwacked into the closed door, and groping for the knob, made to leave before he embarrassed himself further. However, Kingsley’s voice halted his exit.
“Just so you know, Harry,” the Minister started, “you are always welcome to return to your job at any time if you so desire.”
Nodding in acknowledgment, Harry said, “Thank you, sir,” before slipping out of the room. As the door closed behind him, it felt as if it closed on a lot more than Kingsley’s office. It put all the expectation solidly into the past, as well. He had not even realised the heaviness that it had put on his shoulders until it was gone, and its absence put a lightness in his step as he practically breezed toward the lift.
Once the gates closed and the automated voice asked Harry where he wanted to go, though, he paused. The responsible thing to do would have been to make his way to the second level to tell Hermione about his decision and then to clean out his cubicle, but Hermione had ways of finding things out and his desk could wait. The more he considered his options, the more he knew that he could only see one option in his immediate future. With that, he said, “Level Eight, please.”
As the lift glided to a stop at the Atrium, Harry made his way to the Apparition platforms, which were nearly depopulated since most of the Ministry’s small Sunday contingent had already got to work. With a crack, he went to the only place he wished to be at the moment, where he had come to the epiphany to end them all.
When he arrived, the sound of the shower greeted him as it had the previous time. However, instead of trying to duck out before he was found, he flung himself onto the bed, leant back onto the pillows, and stared at the plaster on the ceiling until the swirls began to form patterns. His feet swayed back and forth to a non-existent tune as he waited for the stream of water to stop and for its occupant to come out.
When she opened the door, her hair was wrapped in a towel and she was drying her lithe limbs as he watched. Harry’s mouth pulled into a content smile. “Hello there,” he said.
Not averting her attention from her task, Katie said, “Didn’t know if you were coming back.”
“Said I would,” he said, sliding rather reluctantly from the bed. He wrapped a hand around the bedpost and swung around the corner to stand in front of her. “Not going to ask me where I was?”
She harrumphed. “I imagine you’re going to tell me anyway, so out with it already.”
Taking a heavy breath, Harry said, “I quit.”
Katie paused with the towel and looked at him finally. “Really? You… you quit your job?”
“I did.”
“I thought it was what you always wanted to do.”
Shrugging, Harry simply replied, “Things change, I guess.” His eyes perused her mostly naked figure and he groaned. He pulled her close to him and hovered his lips over hers.
“I guess they do,” she breathed before ending that last bit of distance. But as soon as she was there, she was already walking away from him to her wardrobe. “But that can wait.”
Watching as she dressed, utterly confused, Harry said, “Wait for what?”
Before she answered, Katie finished dressing in a simple top and jeans. She went to the corner of the room and pulled out the Nimbus that Harry had left there the night before and tossed it to Harry. With a smirk, she said, “First, we fly.”
And those words were music to Harry’s ears.
He slid from under the covers - how he got there, he didn’t recall - with the intention of saying something, anything to Katie to bring back the spark of life he’d remembered from their time up in the air. Her eyes’ reflection in the mirror bore no resemblance to the woman who had brazenly coaxed him into her bed. That fact made him grossly self-conscious of his waist-down nudity. Flushing, even though no one was looking, he pulled the duvet from the bed and wrapped himself in it.
Harry padded over to stand next to her, hoping that she would be at least willing to talk to him. Katie gave no indication that she either acknowledged his presence or objected to it, so he stood there, staring at a portion of the wall, hoping it would captivate him as much as the hairbrush did for her. For some time, neither of them said anything, but Katie finally snapped the silence.
“I must be so disgusting to you.”
Starting, Harry asked, “Why would I be disgusted by you?”
Finally, Katie broke her concentrated gaze from the mirror and looked up at him. “I… what we did. Nice girls don’t do things like that, and I’m not a nice girl anymore. You’ll always be the guy with the nice girl.”
All Harry could do was gape at her. “Is that what you think? You think I… you really think that of me?”
“Why not?” she said with a shrug. “I think that of me. Why should you be any different?”
Revulsion churned at the pit of his stomach. The mere implication made him nauseous. “Well, if you think I’m that bloody insensitive, then why even bother?” He couldn’t keep the sneer from his voice, no matter how hard he tried to mask it.
“Because I thought I could just do it!” she cried. “I thought we could just both have a fun night together and go our separate ways, because God knows we both needed something. I thought…” She roughly scrubbed her face with her hands. “I thought I was over this.”
He still could hardly understand what she meant. “Over what?”
“You!” she said, almost accusingly. “You are everything I ever wanted in another person. Do you know how painful it is to watch you sleep next to me with the knowledge that, in a couple hours, you’ll walk away and I won’t see you again save for some random chance? That I’ll just end up with some other tosser like Roger because I don’t know anything different?”
Dumbfounded, Harry tried desperately to process what she had just said. He wished he had something of the like to say in return, but there was nothing. She wasn’t anything like the girl he’d always dreamt of being with. She had been before Roger, but that git had slowly but surely beaten down the sweet, soft Katie Bell that he had known for so many years. All that remained was this cynical, made-up shell of a woman who was more likely to drink herself into a stupor than she was to say ‘hello’ to someone on the street. He simply never saw himself falling in with someone like her.
But he had also never expected to feel so directionless. She had asked him if he was happy, and he had acknowledged inwardly that he wasn’t. What he thought he wanted was clearly no longer the case, and it certainly wasn’t what he had needed.
Without another word, Harry went over to the nightstand where his wand had landed and muttered, “I’ll be back,” before Apparating from the room. Seconds later, he was standing in his own foyer, from which he proceeded into his bedroom where a small desk sat covered in his on-going assignments. He used his forearm and roughly scraped them all onto the floor before pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill, scribbling down the first coherent sentences that came to him. Once he had a satisfactory draft, he rolled up the paper and again disappeared with a pop.
This time, his travels took him back to where he had started the previous day. The bustle in the Atrium before everyone rushed off to their respective floors was barely beginning, but it was steady enough that he was compelled to quickly leave the Apparition platform to avoid being bowled over. However, he had no plans on remaining there anyway as he went straight for the security desk. Jim Peakes was there in his usual posture - feet up on the desk with that morning’s Prophet hiding his face. Harry rapped on the desk briskly to get his attention
“Hey, Jim, is Proudfoot in yet?”
Jim raised a brow confusedly. “It’s Sunday, Harry. You know he doesn’t come in on Sunday.”
“Bollocks,” Harry muttered, annoyed with himself for making such a silly error. He would’ve realised that had he taken the time to look at the people who had arrived as he had, who were quite distinctly, once he thought about it, the weekend staff. But Sunday did mean one thing: the Minister would be in for a couple hours to sign forms that needed filing before Monday. This would be Harry’s last chance to do what he had come to do before he lost the nerve. Still hopeful, he asked, “Has Kingsley come in yet?”
“Yeah, about twenty minutes ago,” Jim said, a tinge of nervousness creeping into his voice. “Something wrong, mate?”
“No idea,” Harry said lightly. “Not a clue.” He chuckled before patting the desk in front of a quite confused Jim. “Thanks, Jim.” Leaving behind the very mystified watchman, he strode toward the lifts along with a small flock of chatting women in Accidental Magic Reversal Squad robes. Their subject of conversation quickly shifted, as they often did when he was around, but for once, he didn’t get that niggling feeling of annoyance. Instead, he merely grinned and said, “Good morning, ladies.”
As the lift lurched into motion, Harry couldn’t prise the smile off of his face brought on by the awkward silence surrounding him. Recalling bits of gossip that they had been sharing upon his arrival, he turned around and said, “Oh, in case you were wondering -” looking at the witch on the far right, “- no, I’m not gay, and -” and to the one next to her, “- I don’t really have a dragon tattoo. Thought that one had been debunked years ago.”
Almost on cue, the lift slowed, and the automated voice said, “Level One: Administration.” Harry bowed slightly and said, “It’s been lovely chatting with you, but this is my stop.” The gates clattered open, and he backed out. With a sweeping gesture, he said to the gawking women, “Carry on.”
That should give them some fresh material, he thought with a smirk. He had better things to do than worry about trivial things like busybodies and what they thought. He was fairly certain he didn’t give a damn at all. And that realisation only served to lengthen his stride as he breezed his way through the Ministerial Security checkpoint. His blasé demeanour lasted until he reached the heavy wooden door bearing a shining, gold placard that said:
KINGSLEY SHACKLEBOLT Minister of Magic
At the sight of the name, Harry faltered a bit. Only once had he seen consternation on the composed face of the Minister, even in the midst of turmoil. He wasn’t sure how the man would react to what Harry was going to bring up. But no matter how little he looked forward to disappointment with which he would likely be met, he was still more certain than ever that what he was planning was the right thing to do.
Taking a deep breath, Harry knocked on the door, which was slightly ajar, and despite his resolution, he jumped slightly when Kingsley’s deep voice called, “Come in.” Inside, the Minister was scribbling his signature on an inch-thick stack of forms, one at a time, but when he heard the door close, he set down his quill and looked up. Once he saw who had come, he smiled broadly. “It is good to see you, Harry.”
Nodding, Harry said, “Likewise, sir.” Suddenly a lot more nervous, his gaze drifted down to his shoes as he contemplated the best way of broaching the matter at hand. It would require tact and diplomacy and-
“I’m resigning,” Harry blurted before he completely lost the nerve.
Kingsley raised a brow, looking intently at Harry as if with Legilimency to gauge his level of seriousness. That focus was only broken when Harry tentatively held out the paper that he had unwittingly been crushing in his hand. The Minister considered the offering, took the rumpled parchment and perused it. “Hmm…”
Harry felt obligated to defend his reasoning, but everything that came into his head was jumbled at best. He only got as far as opening his mouth before Kingsley put him out of his misery.
“I have to say, Harry, that while I’m disappointed that we’ll be losing a fine Auror, I wish you well in finding whatever it is you seek.” As he smoothed the note with one tap of his wand, Kingsley added, “Do you have any particular plans for your newfound free time?”
Relief pooled in Harry’s stomach. He had expected to have to explain himself, or even a flat out refusal to accept; the understanding from Kingsley reminded Harry of why the man would likely go down as one of the best and most popular Ministers of Magic in history. His guilt assuaged, Harry finally meted out a reply, “Not particularly.”
If any reaction was expected, grinning wasn’t one of them. “Excellent. I envy you this opportunity, Harry. Ever since you were fifteen, I have worried that you would forget to live once you were caught up in the war.”
Dumbfounded, Harry said, “Er, really?” When he saw nothing but seriousness on Kingsley’s face, he thought out loud, “I suppose so, then. I thought, you know… that everyone would be angry with me and think I let them down.” To that point, Harry had not voiced those fears even to himself, but as he stood across from the Minister of Magic himself, those latent insecurities became a whole lot larger.
He hadn’t expected Kingsley to chuckle and shake his head. “Harry, you defeated the most powerful Dark wizard in history. I don’t think anyone has the right to ask anything more of you that you aren’t willing to give.”
Relief flooded through Harry. “Thank you, sir,” he said, almost more to himself than to Kingsley. A multitude of concerns had just been alleviated, including how he would feel after the deed was done. Any number of things could’ve come over him: regret, self-loathing, uncertainty, emptiness. Yet none of them presented at all - just a sense of wonder that he truly had no more obligations.
Smiling to himself, Harry started to back toward the door. “Well, I should probably be off now. I don’t have to be anywhere, obviously, but -” His back thwacked into the closed door, and groping for the knob, made to leave before he embarrassed himself further. However, Kingsley’s voice halted his exit.
“Just so you know, Harry,” the Minister started, “you are always welcome to return to your job at any time if you so desire.”
Nodding in acknowledgment, Harry said, “Thank you, sir,” before slipping out of the room. As the door closed behind him, it felt as if it closed on a lot more than Kingsley’s office. It put all the expectation solidly into the past, as well. He had not even realised the heaviness that it had put on his shoulders until it was gone, and its absence put a lightness in his step as he practically breezed toward the lift.
Once the gates closed and the automated voice asked Harry where he wanted to go, though, he paused. The responsible thing to do would have been to make his way to the second level to tell Hermione about his decision and then to clean out his cubicle, but Hermione had ways of finding things out and his desk could wait. The more he considered his options, the more he knew that he could only see one option in his immediate future. With that, he said, “Level Eight, please.”
As the lift glided to a stop at the Atrium, Harry made his way to the Apparition platforms, which were nearly depopulated since most of the Ministry’s small Sunday contingent had already got to work. With a crack, he went to the only place he wished to be at the moment, where he had come to the epiphany to end them all.
When he arrived, the sound of the shower greeted him as it had the previous time. However, instead of trying to duck out before he was found, he flung himself onto the bed, leant back onto the pillows, and stared at the plaster on the ceiling until the swirls began to form patterns. His feet swayed back and forth to a non-existent tune as he waited for the stream of water to stop and for its occupant to come out.
When she opened the door, her hair was wrapped in a towel and she was drying her lithe limbs as he watched. Harry’s mouth pulled into a content smile. “Hello there,” he said.
Not averting her attention from her task, Katie said, “Didn’t know if you were coming back.”
“Said I would,” he said, sliding rather reluctantly from the bed. He wrapped a hand around the bedpost and swung around the corner to stand in front of her. “Not going to ask me where I was?”
She harrumphed. “I imagine you’re going to tell me anyway, so out with it already.”
Taking a heavy breath, Harry said, “I quit.”
Katie paused with the towel and looked at him finally. “Really? You… you quit your job?”
“I did.”
“I thought it was what you always wanted to do.”
Shrugging, Harry simply replied, “Things change, I guess.” His eyes perused her mostly naked figure and he groaned. He pulled her close to him and hovered his lips over hers.
“I guess they do,” she breathed before ending that last bit of distance. But as soon as she was there, she was already walking away from him to her wardrobe. “But that can wait.”
Watching as she dressed, utterly confused, Harry said, “Wait for what?”
Before she answered, Katie finished dressing in a simple top and jeans. She went to the corner of the room and pulled out the Nimbus that Harry had left there the night before and tossed it to Harry. With a smirk, she said, “First, we fly.”
And those words were music to Harry’s ears.