FIC: Points of Contact, 4/100
Title: Points of Contact
Fandoms: CSI/HP
Characters (this chapter): Sirius Black, Harry Potter, Remus Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt
Prompt: #04 Autumn
Word Count: 1800
Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: Me no own; you no poo sue.
Series Summary: When a Muggle-killing wizard sets up shop in Vegas, the hunt to find him is bound to make for some strange bedfellows.
Author's Notes: Written for 100_situations. One ongoing story, not a series of drabbles. Set postwar in the Potterverse, circa 3rd season CSI (around 2001, for anyone who’s counting). Crack, AU, slash. Previous parts/ prompt table here.
“How could you have let this happen?” Tonks rubbed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger and shook her head. “I just don’t understand.”
“Honestly, I really don’t think it’s such a big deal,” Sirius said, trying not to sound as defensive as he felt. He was sitting in number twelve’s back garden along with Harry, Remus, Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, the latter two of whom had, apparently, come round just for the opportunity to tell him off.
“Not a big deal? Your fingerprints, Sirius! They’ve got your name! They’ve requested a file on you-- from Scotland Yard, granted. But you’re in Muggle records as an escaped murderer! Not to mention that you’re supposed to be dead!!”
“Tonks,” Remus put in gently in a tone that usually irritated his former partner more than it soothed her, “Why don’t we all try to stay calm.”
“I think,” Kingsley suggested delicately, “that we’re just curious as to how you’re going to handle the matter.”
“No differently than I have been for the past two months,” said Sirius dryly.
“Which clearly has been a stunning success-- how many more have died since you got there?” challenged Tonks.
Remus, who could smell a fight coming two blocks away, stood up from the stone bench where they were seated. “Think I’ll go make tea,” he said to no one in particular. He threw a glance at Harry, but Harry seemed disinclined to go with him, so he slipped off into the house alone, his feet crunching the dry leaves in the path as he went.
Sirius didn’t miss a beat. “Two. The squatters who found the first body--”
“Which makes three dead in little over two months!”
“I notice you’re forgetting who’s not dead,” Sirius shot back, his temper rising. “Not one of the law enforcement men --or women-- has died. The cops, the detectives, the CSIs-- all safe!”
“And now they’re all going to be chasing you!”
“Look,” Kingsley tried once more to be the peace keeper, “No one thinks you’re not doing the best job you can, Sirius. We-- that is, I-- just need to ask, because I’ve been assigned as the contact, in case these Las Vegas Muggles come asking for any more information. There’s only so much interference I can run for you, after all. I mean, the Ministry directive on this says we’re not to impede their investigation in any way, but if I knew a bit more of the situation maybe I could throw them off the scent....”
“Well, you could just tell them the truth.” Sirius’s tone was cold. He hadn’t missed the implication that ‘the best job he could’ was still sub par for the Aurors.
Kingsley stared at him. “Sorry?”
Sirius, who might have picked up a touch of Captain Brass’s deadpan in the span of two months, stared back and said with pointed, biting sarcasm, “You could tell them that I’m not a mass murderer.”
“‘Course.” Kingsley forced his tone to be neutral, but his glare was icy. “Well, thanks for that. I think we’d better go.”
In the corner by the garden wall beside them, the wind kicked up a little eddy of leaves and spun them in a whirl of orange and gold. Sirius watched in the periphery of his vision as the two Aurors stood and said a stiff goodbye.
Their voices caught on the air as they went to the garden gate to show themselves out, and a few words floated back. It sounded like Tonks complaining that the Ministry had sent an Unspeakable to do an Auror’s job in the first place. Sirius shook his head.
“Maybe they’re right,” he said to Harry, sounding uncertain for the first time. “Maybe I never should have been sent for this job in the first place.”
Harry was a long time in answering. “Sirius, how did the Muggles get your fingerprints?”
Sirius breathed a short mirthless laugh, “Warrick’s clever. He printed his gun.”
“Warrick-- the one you told me about? But how did your fingerprints get on his gun?”
Sirius sighed. “From the night I brought him here.”
Harry stared at him, disbelieving. “You brought him here?! When? Why??”
“Look, I had to, all right?” Sirius replied, again trying hard not to sound defensive. He would likely react the same way if he found out that Harry had brought a stranger to their home-- though not as covert as it had been during the war when it had served as the Order’s headquarters, twelve Grimauld Place was still a carefully protected secret. “It was my first day there, that first body, remember? Well whoever’s been killing all these people had left a poison behind at the scene. Tricky stuff. Very tricky, and I didn’t know what I was up against yet. It was a liquid, but the vapors were the deadly bit.
“I had to get Warrick out of there-- and I did, but he was sick enough already that he couldn’t go back right away, so I brought him here. Took care of him. He was unconscious, and I took his gun because I didn’t want him pulling it on me as soon as he woke up.”
“Yeah.” Harry’s nod could have been acknowledgment or acceptance.
“You know I’ve never really been around Muggles before. I had no idea how resourceful they are. Sometimes it still amazes me what these CSIs can find out just by looking at a few strands of hair or a shoe print. I didn’t know Muggles could be like that-- I’d always thought of them as sort of slow. Backwards, you know?”
Again Harry nodded for Sirius to continue.
“I had watched him at that crime scene, but it wasn’t until I spoke to him that night that I first thought he might really have a chance of solving this thing. Anyway, I Obliviated him when I took him back. But I left traces, deliberate traces. I figured he’d just treat them as dreams-- I never imagined what he could do with them.”
“You could Obliviate him again,” Harry offered, but he didn’t seem particularly committed to the idea. Sirius knew that Memory Charms always made Harry a little nervous, but then he supposed if he’d been there to see what happened to Gilderoy Lockhart that night when Harry was twelve, he’d probably be nervous about Memory Charms too.
“Not if I want to see him solve this thing I can’t. He needs every bit of knowledge he’s got. Besides it would be... almost like tampering with evidence. I wouldn’t want to do that to him-- it’s bad enough to know I’ve done it once.”
Harry looked at him quizzically for a moment, and something in his godson’s gaze made Sirius feel exposed and vulnerable. He felt like he’d said too much, but he wasn’t quite sure how, or even about what he’d said it. And it wasn’t that he didn’t trust Harry-- he did. But... Then he decided that whatever it was he was feeling, he much preferred not to think about it, so he focused on the chill of the air instead and drew his cloak more fully around himself, rubbing his hands against his arms.
“Are you cold?” Harry asked. “We could go in.”
“Seems silly, doesn’t it?” Sirius laughed. “It’s barely through September. I’m just not used to it. You wouldn’t believe how hot it can be in Las Vegas, even this time of year. They don’t have proper seasons, either. I rather miss watching the leaves change.” He paused, looking up into the canopy of the maple tree they sat under. The sunlight filtering through the leaves played across his cheeks in mottled spots of light and shadow, and when the breeze blew again, it carried a leaf down from the boughs to brush his brow in its slow descent.
“I should get back,” he said after a moment. “It makes me nervous being gone too long.”
***
When Harry entered the kitchen a few minutes later, it was to find Remus about to pour the tea. He took one look at Harry, standing alone in the doorway, and put the third teacup back on the shelf, unused.
“That went about as well as could be expected, I suppose,” Remus said conversationally as he added sugar to Harry’s tea.
Harry watched the fine long fingers of Remus’s hands as they moved from kettle to teacup. “You think the Muggles will manage to track him down?”
“I think that Sirius has the situation well under control. As far as the Muggles go, at least.”
Harry knew this was probably right, but there was something else on his mind as well. He sat down at the table and tried to decide whether or not to voice it. Remus waited him out; he was nothing if not patient. Most of the time Harry found Remus easy to talk to-- the elder wizard was always a good listener, and Harry had grown up enough that it no longer felt like he was talking to a teacher, but this time he still hesitated.
“If I didn’t know better...” he began, then paused before plunging ahead. “Sometimes I wonder whether Sirius might not... whether he might not fancy that Muggle he’s been watching after.”
There was a slight tinkle of spoon against ceramic as Remus stirred the tea. He was either not surprised by what Harry had said or he was doing very well at hiding it. He regarded Harry casually, his expression inscrutable. After what seemed an inordinately long silence, he said, “You seem quite certain.”
Harry balked, “I only said I wondered...”
“Certain that you know better, I mean.”
“What?” This was so far from what he’d been expecting that Harry had to turn it over in his head a few times before deciding that Remus really did mean... what it sounded like he meant. “But... He would have told me. When I told him about me... Why didn’t he tell me?”
Remus shrugged a little. “I don’t imagine it occurred to him to do so,” he said as he passed Harry his tea and took a seat at the table.
Harry merely gaped at him. That made absolutely no sense.
“It’s not like with you or me, Harry. Sirius has never called himself gay. He’s just... very liberal-minded when it comes to his partners.”
This was so ridiculous that Harry almost had to laugh. The thing was, it almost made sense-- for Sirius, at any rate. Nonetheless... “You know, that sounds suspiciously like you’re saying ‘He’s not gay, he’s just a slut.’”
Remus wore a look that was far too innocent to be believed, “Really Harry, you know I would never say that.”
But of course he hadn’t needed to, Harry reflected. He’d managed to get Harry to say it for him.
“Besides,” Remus went on, serious once more, “You know how little he’s wanted to talk since....”
“Since he came back to us,” Harry finished. “Yeah.”
__________
Chapter 5: River
Fandoms: CSI/HP
Characters (this chapter): Sirius Black, Harry Potter, Remus Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt
Prompt: #04 Autumn
Word Count: 1800
Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: Me no own; you no poo sue.
Series Summary: When a Muggle-killing wizard sets up shop in Vegas, the hunt to find him is bound to make for some strange bedfellows.
Author's Notes: Written for 100_situations. One ongoing story, not a series of drabbles. Set postwar in the Potterverse, circa 3rd season CSI (around 2001, for anyone who’s counting). Crack, AU, slash. Previous parts/ prompt table here.
“How could you have let this happen?” Tonks rubbed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger and shook her head. “I just don’t understand.”
“Honestly, I really don’t think it’s such a big deal,” Sirius said, trying not to sound as defensive as he felt. He was sitting in number twelve’s back garden along with Harry, Remus, Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, the latter two of whom had, apparently, come round just for the opportunity to tell him off.
“Not a big deal? Your fingerprints, Sirius! They’ve got your name! They’ve requested a file on you-- from Scotland Yard, granted. But you’re in Muggle records as an escaped murderer! Not to mention that you’re supposed to be dead!!”
“Tonks,” Remus put in gently in a tone that usually irritated his former partner more than it soothed her, “Why don’t we all try to stay calm.”
“I think,” Kingsley suggested delicately, “that we’re just curious as to how you’re going to handle the matter.”
“No differently than I have been for the past two months,” said Sirius dryly.
“Which clearly has been a stunning success-- how many more have died since you got there?” challenged Tonks.
Remus, who could smell a fight coming two blocks away, stood up from the stone bench where they were seated. “Think I’ll go make tea,” he said to no one in particular. He threw a glance at Harry, but Harry seemed disinclined to go with him, so he slipped off into the house alone, his feet crunching the dry leaves in the path as he went.
Sirius didn’t miss a beat. “Two. The squatters who found the first body--”
“Which makes three dead in little over two months!”
“I notice you’re forgetting who’s not dead,” Sirius shot back, his temper rising. “Not one of the law enforcement men --or women-- has died. The cops, the detectives, the CSIs-- all safe!”
“And now they’re all going to be chasing you!”
“Look,” Kingsley tried once more to be the peace keeper, “No one thinks you’re not doing the best job you can, Sirius. We-- that is, I-- just need to ask, because I’ve been assigned as the contact, in case these Las Vegas Muggles come asking for any more information. There’s only so much interference I can run for you, after all. I mean, the Ministry directive on this says we’re not to impede their investigation in any way, but if I knew a bit more of the situation maybe I could throw them off the scent....”
“Well, you could just tell them the truth.” Sirius’s tone was cold. He hadn’t missed the implication that ‘the best job he could’ was still sub par for the Aurors.
Kingsley stared at him. “Sorry?”
Sirius, who might have picked up a touch of Captain Brass’s deadpan in the span of two months, stared back and said with pointed, biting sarcasm, “You could tell them that I’m not a mass murderer.”
“‘Course.” Kingsley forced his tone to be neutral, but his glare was icy. “Well, thanks for that. I think we’d better go.”
In the corner by the garden wall beside them, the wind kicked up a little eddy of leaves and spun them in a whirl of orange and gold. Sirius watched in the periphery of his vision as the two Aurors stood and said a stiff goodbye.
Their voices caught on the air as they went to the garden gate to show themselves out, and a few words floated back. It sounded like Tonks complaining that the Ministry had sent an Unspeakable to do an Auror’s job in the first place. Sirius shook his head.
“Maybe they’re right,” he said to Harry, sounding uncertain for the first time. “Maybe I never should have been sent for this job in the first place.”
Harry was a long time in answering. “Sirius, how did the Muggles get your fingerprints?”
Sirius breathed a short mirthless laugh, “Warrick’s clever. He printed his gun.”
“Warrick-- the one you told me about? But how did your fingerprints get on his gun?”
Sirius sighed. “From the night I brought him here.”
Harry stared at him, disbelieving. “You brought him here?! When? Why??”
“Look, I had to, all right?” Sirius replied, again trying hard not to sound defensive. He would likely react the same way if he found out that Harry had brought a stranger to their home-- though not as covert as it had been during the war when it had served as the Order’s headquarters, twelve Grimauld Place was still a carefully protected secret. “It was my first day there, that first body, remember? Well whoever’s been killing all these people had left a poison behind at the scene. Tricky stuff. Very tricky, and I didn’t know what I was up against yet. It was a liquid, but the vapors were the deadly bit.
“I had to get Warrick out of there-- and I did, but he was sick enough already that he couldn’t go back right away, so I brought him here. Took care of him. He was unconscious, and I took his gun because I didn’t want him pulling it on me as soon as he woke up.”
“Yeah.” Harry’s nod could have been acknowledgment or acceptance.
“You know I’ve never really been around Muggles before. I had no idea how resourceful they are. Sometimes it still amazes me what these CSIs can find out just by looking at a few strands of hair or a shoe print. I didn’t know Muggles could be like that-- I’d always thought of them as sort of slow. Backwards, you know?”
Again Harry nodded for Sirius to continue.
“I had watched him at that crime scene, but it wasn’t until I spoke to him that night that I first thought he might really have a chance of solving this thing. Anyway, I Obliviated him when I took him back. But I left traces, deliberate traces. I figured he’d just treat them as dreams-- I never imagined what he could do with them.”
“You could Obliviate him again,” Harry offered, but he didn’t seem particularly committed to the idea. Sirius knew that Memory Charms always made Harry a little nervous, but then he supposed if he’d been there to see what happened to Gilderoy Lockhart that night when Harry was twelve, he’d probably be nervous about Memory Charms too.
“Not if I want to see him solve this thing I can’t. He needs every bit of knowledge he’s got. Besides it would be... almost like tampering with evidence. I wouldn’t want to do that to him-- it’s bad enough to know I’ve done it once.”
Harry looked at him quizzically for a moment, and something in his godson’s gaze made Sirius feel exposed and vulnerable. He felt like he’d said too much, but he wasn’t quite sure how, or even about what he’d said it. And it wasn’t that he didn’t trust Harry-- he did. But... Then he decided that whatever it was he was feeling, he much preferred not to think about it, so he focused on the chill of the air instead and drew his cloak more fully around himself, rubbing his hands against his arms.
“Are you cold?” Harry asked. “We could go in.”
“Seems silly, doesn’t it?” Sirius laughed. “It’s barely through September. I’m just not used to it. You wouldn’t believe how hot it can be in Las Vegas, even this time of year. They don’t have proper seasons, either. I rather miss watching the leaves change.” He paused, looking up into the canopy of the maple tree they sat under. The sunlight filtering through the leaves played across his cheeks in mottled spots of light and shadow, and when the breeze blew again, it carried a leaf down from the boughs to brush his brow in its slow descent.
“I should get back,” he said after a moment. “It makes me nervous being gone too long.”
***
When Harry entered the kitchen a few minutes later, it was to find Remus about to pour the tea. He took one look at Harry, standing alone in the doorway, and put the third teacup back on the shelf, unused.
“That went about as well as could be expected, I suppose,” Remus said conversationally as he added sugar to Harry’s tea.
Harry watched the fine long fingers of Remus’s hands as they moved from kettle to teacup. “You think the Muggles will manage to track him down?”
“I think that Sirius has the situation well under control. As far as the Muggles go, at least.”
Harry knew this was probably right, but there was something else on his mind as well. He sat down at the table and tried to decide whether or not to voice it. Remus waited him out; he was nothing if not patient. Most of the time Harry found Remus easy to talk to-- the elder wizard was always a good listener, and Harry had grown up enough that it no longer felt like he was talking to a teacher, but this time he still hesitated.
“If I didn’t know better...” he began, then paused before plunging ahead. “Sometimes I wonder whether Sirius might not... whether he might not fancy that Muggle he’s been watching after.”
There was a slight tinkle of spoon against ceramic as Remus stirred the tea. He was either not surprised by what Harry had said or he was doing very well at hiding it. He regarded Harry casually, his expression inscrutable. After what seemed an inordinately long silence, he said, “You seem quite certain.”
Harry balked, “I only said I wondered...”
“Certain that you know better, I mean.”
“What?” This was so far from what he’d been expecting that Harry had to turn it over in his head a few times before deciding that Remus really did mean... what it sounded like he meant. “But... He would have told me. When I told him about me... Why didn’t he tell me?”
Remus shrugged a little. “I don’t imagine it occurred to him to do so,” he said as he passed Harry his tea and took a seat at the table.
Harry merely gaped at him. That made absolutely no sense.
“It’s not like with you or me, Harry. Sirius has never called himself gay. He’s just... very liberal-minded when it comes to his partners.”
This was so ridiculous that Harry almost had to laugh. The thing was, it almost made sense-- for Sirius, at any rate. Nonetheless... “You know, that sounds suspiciously like you’re saying ‘He’s not gay, he’s just a slut.’”
Remus wore a look that was far too innocent to be believed, “Really Harry, you know I would never say that.”
But of course he hadn’t needed to, Harry reflected. He’d managed to get Harry to say it for him.
“Besides,” Remus went on, serious once more, “You know how little he’s wanted to talk since....”
“Since he came back to us,” Harry finished. “Yeah.”
__________
Chapter 5: River