Targeted 13
Title: Targeted 13
Author: enchanted_jae
Characters: Harry, Ron, Draco
Rating: PG13
Warning(s): Violence
Word count: 925
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This was written for fun, not for profit.
Written for: Birthday gift for misplaced_exile, who asked for an update to Targeted
Summary: Harry becomes frustrated when another lead comes to a dead end.
Harry dropped more than enough money on the table to pay for his and Neville's lunch before dashing out of the bistro. Despite being only blocks away from St Mungo's, Harry Disapparated as soon as he stepped outside, reappearing at the doors to the hospital. Ron was waiting for him in the lobby.
"What's going on?" Harry asked him.
"A bloke came in about an hour ago, suffering from the sort of injury that Nott claims to have inflicted on his attacker," replied Ron. He had already turned and headed for the lifts, trusting Harry to keep up with him.
"Has anyone been able to question him yet?" asked Harry.
Ron shook his head. "He's not in good shape," he said. "The Healers aren't sure he'll live much longer. It seems he waited too long to get help."
Harry was frustrated by the news. At last, they had a viable link to the person or persons responsible for the murder of several reformed Death Eaters, and they may not get a chance to interrogate the man. "Let's go see what information we can glean from him," said Harry.
"I don't think they'll let us question him, mate."
"They will," Harry stated. "I'll make sure of it."
Despite Harry's resolve, they were unable to question the suspect. As they reached the room where he was being treated, a Healer exited and shook her head at them.
"Don't tell me he's dead!" cried Ron.
"We tried our best to save him," said the Healer. "However, when his intestines burst, there was nothing more we could do."
Ron thanked her while Harry struggled to control the urge to put his fist through a wall. "Damn it," he seethed when the Healer was out of earshot.
Ron sighed and leaned back against the wall. "That must have been a horrible way to go," he remarked. "I wonder why he delayed coming in?"
"He must have known he'd be arrested," said Harry. "It's likely he held out until he couldn't stand the pain any longer." He opened the door and entered, wanting to at least see if he recognized the bloke.
Ron followed, and he halted at the sight of the bloody sheet draped over the still figure on the bed. "What a mess," he sighed.
Harry ignored the gory midsection and drew the sheet away from the man's face. He looked vaguely familiar, but Harry couldn't be certain.
"Tony Kimple," mused Ron. "Hufflepuff, half-blood. He was a couple years behind us. He used to fancy Ginny," he added. "That's how I remembered him."
"The question is, did he have a personal axe to grind with Theodore Nott, or is he part of this assassination plot?" Harry wondered. He plucked Kimple's wand from a nearby table and performed a Priori Incantatem on it. The most recent spells used were healing spells. Presumably, Kimple had attempted to save himself before giving up and coming to St Mungo's. An Avada Kedavra was next, giving credence to Nott's claim that his attacker had cast the killing curse at him and missed.
"He had to know he'd be going to Azkaban for that," said Ron, mouth set in a grim line.
"We may as well return to the Ministry and see what information we can turn up on Kimple," Harry said.
~*~
Harry was in a foul mood by the time he returned to his safe house. His temper shortened even further when Malfoy immediately accosted him and began alternately asking questions and demanding to be released. Harry stoically ignored him as he trudged into the kitchen in search of something to eat. He'd had to leave his lunch unfinished at the bistro, and he and Ron hadn't paused during their fruitless investigation into Tony Kimple's recent activities.
"Potter, I wish to go home," Malfoy was complaining. "I shall be safe enough at the Manor. I am going quite mad here. Potter, are you even listening to me?"
"Malfoy, I am tired and hungry, and I'm in no mood for your drama," growled Harry. "Unless you have some useful information for me, shut your gob."
"Make me," sassed Malfoy.
Harry's hand shot out, but instead of throttling his aggravating house guest, he wrapped his fingers around Malfoy's nape and hauled him forward and into a brutal kiss. Harry crushed Malfoy's mouth beneath his own, intent only on silencing and punishing the bane of his existence. He had expected a fight from Malfoy; instead, Malfoy groaned and parted his lips, admitting the aggressive thrust of Harry's tongue.
Harry snogged Malfoy until Malfoy was sagging against him and making soft little whimpering sounds in his throat. Damned if it wasn't the sexiest thing Harry had ever heard, and his cock swelled in the confines of his pants. As their bodies pressed together, Harry became aware that Malfoy, too, was aroused, and he pushed him away with a muttered curse.
Malfoy stumbled back, and only the table prevented him from falling. He stared at Harry with hungry, dilated eyes, and Harry entertained a brief fantasy of stripping Malfoy bare and fucking him over that table. Harry's hands clenched into fists at his sides as he waged a war with his own libido. He pivoted on the balls of his feet and brushed past Malfoy on the way out of the kitchen. He needed to put some space between them.
Targeted 14
Author: enchanted_jae
Characters: Harry, Ron, Draco
Rating: PG13
Warning(s): Violence
Word count: 925
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This was written for fun, not for profit.
Written for: Birthday gift for misplaced_exile, who asked for an update to Targeted
Summary: Harry becomes frustrated when another lead comes to a dead end.
Harry dropped more than enough money on the table to pay for his and Neville's lunch before dashing out of the bistro. Despite being only blocks away from St Mungo's, Harry Disapparated as soon as he stepped outside, reappearing at the doors to the hospital. Ron was waiting for him in the lobby.
"What's going on?" Harry asked him.
"A bloke came in about an hour ago, suffering from the sort of injury that Nott claims to have inflicted on his attacker," replied Ron. He had already turned and headed for the lifts, trusting Harry to keep up with him.
"Has anyone been able to question him yet?" asked Harry.
Ron shook his head. "He's not in good shape," he said. "The Healers aren't sure he'll live much longer. It seems he waited too long to get help."
Harry was frustrated by the news. At last, they had a viable link to the person or persons responsible for the murder of several reformed Death Eaters, and they may not get a chance to interrogate the man. "Let's go see what information we can glean from him," said Harry.
"I don't think they'll let us question him, mate."
"They will," Harry stated. "I'll make sure of it."
Despite Harry's resolve, they were unable to question the suspect. As they reached the room where he was being treated, a Healer exited and shook her head at them.
"Don't tell me he's dead!" cried Ron.
"We tried our best to save him," said the Healer. "However, when his intestines burst, there was nothing more we could do."
Ron thanked her while Harry struggled to control the urge to put his fist through a wall. "Damn it," he seethed when the Healer was out of earshot.
Ron sighed and leaned back against the wall. "That must have been a horrible way to go," he remarked. "I wonder why he delayed coming in?"
"He must have known he'd be arrested," said Harry. "It's likely he held out until he couldn't stand the pain any longer." He opened the door and entered, wanting to at least see if he recognized the bloke.
Ron followed, and he halted at the sight of the bloody sheet draped over the still figure on the bed. "What a mess," he sighed.
Harry ignored the gory midsection and drew the sheet away from the man's face. He looked vaguely familiar, but Harry couldn't be certain.
"Tony Kimple," mused Ron. "Hufflepuff, half-blood. He was a couple years behind us. He used to fancy Ginny," he added. "That's how I remembered him."
"The question is, did he have a personal axe to grind with Theodore Nott, or is he part of this assassination plot?" Harry wondered. He plucked Kimple's wand from a nearby table and performed a Priori Incantatem on it. The most recent spells used were healing spells. Presumably, Kimple had attempted to save himself before giving up and coming to St Mungo's. An Avada Kedavra was next, giving credence to Nott's claim that his attacker had cast the killing curse at him and missed.
"He had to know he'd be going to Azkaban for that," said Ron, mouth set in a grim line.
"We may as well return to the Ministry and see what information we can turn up on Kimple," Harry said.
~*~
Harry was in a foul mood by the time he returned to his safe house. His temper shortened even further when Malfoy immediately accosted him and began alternately asking questions and demanding to be released. Harry stoically ignored him as he trudged into the kitchen in search of something to eat. He'd had to leave his lunch unfinished at the bistro, and he and Ron hadn't paused during their fruitless investigation into Tony Kimple's recent activities.
"Potter, I wish to go home," Malfoy was complaining. "I shall be safe enough at the Manor. I am going quite mad here. Potter, are you even listening to me?"
"Malfoy, I am tired and hungry, and I'm in no mood for your drama," growled Harry. "Unless you have some useful information for me, shut your gob."
"Make me," sassed Malfoy.
Harry's hand shot out, but instead of throttling his aggravating house guest, he wrapped his fingers around Malfoy's nape and hauled him forward and into a brutal kiss. Harry crushed Malfoy's mouth beneath his own, intent only on silencing and punishing the bane of his existence. He had expected a fight from Malfoy; instead, Malfoy groaned and parted his lips, admitting the aggressive thrust of Harry's tongue.
Harry snogged Malfoy until Malfoy was sagging against him and making soft little whimpering sounds in his throat. Damned if it wasn't the sexiest thing Harry had ever heard, and his cock swelled in the confines of his pants. As their bodies pressed together, Harry became aware that Malfoy, too, was aroused, and he pushed him away with a muttered curse.
Malfoy stumbled back, and only the table prevented him from falling. He stared at Harry with hungry, dilated eyes, and Harry entertained a brief fantasy of stripping Malfoy bare and fucking him over that table. Harry's hands clenched into fists at his sides as he waged a war with his own libido. He pivoted on the balls of his feet and brushed past Malfoy on the way out of the kitchen. He needed to put some space between them.
Targeted 14