Fic: No Hiding Place book Five: High in the Sky (19/28)

[sua_lay]

Title: No Hiding Place: Book Five: High In The Sky (19/28)
Author: Rimau Sua Lay
Rating: overall NC-17, Angst, Drama, Action/Adventure, First Time
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Harry/Snape, Ron/Draco, (Sirius/Remus)
Date: December 2002 - May 2007
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money. Please don't sue. Sherbet Lemon?
Summary for Book Five: - It's time to try to save the world. Fools and idiots may be the wizards' only hope. Revenge does indeed taste strange. Kinda furry.
Warning: This part contains deaths, gore, total stupidity, explicit sex between men, disturbing themes and angst.

The earlier parts of the fic can be found here.

Extra warning! This part contains Quidditch! Yes, Quidditch! Everyone still bored by the pod race endless Quidditch scenes in the first two movies should probably read with caution!

Part 19

It was a busy evening. Harry was slowly going through his plans for tomorrow, contemplating things he hadn't thought about since the last Quidditch practice he'd led ages ago.

Somehow it helped that he was thinking of it as practice, even though he didn't forget for one moment that what would come was no game. Scratching a few things down helped as well, even though he wouldn't take any notes with him to the pitch tomorrow.

Sighing, he put the parchment away. It was no real use.

They would have to do a lot of improvisation anyway; to really become an efficient squad, they needed months to practice, and Harry knew that even in the best -- or worst -- circumstances there would be no no more than a few weeks until they faced the enemy. Like most things in life, this wasn't exactly what it looked like.

He had to admit that this part of the plans were better than most. Standing on the ground and waiting sounded wrong. At least in the air he would be free to go and find the proper fight.

The thought made him sigh again.

Sirius cast him an anxious glance from the other side of the living room, worrying his lower lip between his teeth to keep silent. He hadn't seen Harry this moody in ages.

He'd kept an even closer eye on Harry lately, mostly because of Snape. He didn't really understand any of what was going on between those two, especially the fact that Harry was fond of the git. Trying to be fair, he'd listened to everything Harry had said, and after a while he'd wondered if he'd been wrong somehow and there really was a softer, nicer side to Snape.

Glaring at the man sitting on a chair not far from Harry and drinking his tea calmly, Sirius had to conclude that he'd been absolutely right all along. Snape was a cold bastard who made evil comments about things, clearly enjoying the way his words made people -- usually either Sirius himself or Ron Weasley -- splutter. He was barely civil with most of them, spent a lot of his time locked in that laboratory of his and whenever he was forced to join them here in the evenings, he just sat there like a dark judgmental specter.

After the full moon, Sirius had changed into Snuffles on purpose early in the evenings, padding softly to the stairs and sat there, focusing on the sounds and smells coming from upstairs.

He hadn't told about it to even Remus, knowing he wouldn't approve.

He had so many questions about Harry and the bastard, but listening as hard as he could, he still didn't have any real answers. Snape didn't seem to behave any differently when he was alone with Harry. He'd never heard the man laugh or use kind words and the curt comments he did hear made Snuffles growl quietly.

The real difference had been in Harry. His godson had talked a lot, though most times the only reply he got was a snort or a grunt, and he sounded mellow. His smelled different as well, Snuffles' nose twitching as his mind connected Harry's scent with happiness instead of misery.

It made no sense, and Sirius hated that. For if that greasy bastard made Harry happy, he couldn't hate him as completely as he wanted to and couldn't do anything to drive him away.

Shaking his head slightly, Sirius kept watching Snape.

"Merlin! These people are idiots!" Ron exclaimed, his voice breaking the tense silence.

Snape raised an eyebrow, muttering, "How surprising."

Ignoring the softly uttered words, Ron burst into laughter, the special edition of the Prophet shaking in his grip. "They're having a poll on what kind of an animal Harry will turn into when he becomes an Animagus!"

That certainly caught Harry's attention. "Oh?" It hadn't taken much time for the papers to start commenting on the whole thing.

"Yeah." Ron smirked." Right now the odds are on a black panther as the non magical and a unicorn as the magical Animagus." He let out a very undignified snort at that.

Even though the things the press wrote about him rarely managed to amuse him, Harry had to laugh at that. "What? Damn, that is stupid. A black panther? Here? In Scotland? Why the hell would anyone want to turn into a black panther anyway? And a unicorn?"

"I think that at least in theory, you'd have to be a virgin to become a unicorn Animagus," Draco said calmly.

Even Remus' coughing fit didn't distract Sirius from seeing the evil smirk that flashed on Snape's face.

Since the comment made Harry laugh even harder, Sirius chose only to bite his lip again.

"I think they have something about that in... Fuck." Ron dropped the paper on his lap and looked at Harry. "Um..."

The tension was back as was the silence, as Harry looked back at his friend. After a moment, he asked, "They're writing about me and..." He cast a brief look at Snape.

"Yeah." Ron nodded. He'd only read half way through the paragraph, and though it didn't exactly say it, it was quite clear to read between the lines. The snake was out of the bag. Or whatever he was supposed to be staying in before Bill had stupidly outed it. "You want to read it?"

Harry shook his head firmly. "No."

"You do know that people will talk about it. There will be other articles." Remus doubted people would be stupid enough to ask Harry about it, but it would be the talk of their world until something more interesting came along.

"I know." Twisting in his chair again, not even noticing when the parchments he'd been holding scattered on the floor, Harry looked at Snape. "I'm sorry."

They hadn't talked about it. What was there to say anyway? Sooner or later someone outside their little family would have found out about them anyway, and it had always been clear that it would end up in the papers. At least there weren't headlines screaming about the Boy Who Lived and his Death Eater lover.

Not yet anyway.

Snape sneered. "Not everything is your fault, Potter." The familiar words left his lips easily, and worked as intended; he could see Harry relax slightly.

Accepting the words as the extent of which Snape was willing to address this in front of the others -- rather surprised he had not stormed out -- Harry turned to collect the parchments from the floor, ignoring the way the others kept staring at him. He didn't know what they expected to happen next.

Whatever it was, they would have to be disappointed.

Harry put the stack of parchments on the floor and then resolutely grabbed his broom from where it rested against the wall. He pulled the small table closer to place the broom servicing kit there, and then focused his attention on cleaning his broom.

A few minutes later Ron cleared his throat and asked Remus to play chess with him, phrasing the question carefully, using the term 'a worthy opponent' with honesty. The tension seemed to dissipate again as the two turned towards the board, giving Sirius something to focus on instead of just glaring at Snape.

Harry was grateful for the peace and quiet.

He could have done this upstairs in his room, but it was good to sit here and work in silence, running his hands through the twigs. Such a familiar thing from ages past, when the whole team had sometimes gathered in the common room to work on their brooms before an important game.

The fact that Draco went to collect his own broom and kit soon after Ron and Remus had made their opening moves wasn't at all surprising. Harry greeted him with a nod as he saw him hesitate at the doorway and then gestured at the table as an invitation.

They didn't talk, both working on their own broom like any professional would, never trusting anyone with the one thing that kept them soaring through the air. Still, it felt right to do this together.

Harry set to remove any loose twigs.

He didn't really look up from his broom until it was in a perfect working shape again, barely noticing when Snape left the room to walk to his laboratory.

Putting away his broom servicing kit, Harry eyed his Firebolt critically. He could have got himself another broom if he wanted, either buying one or accepting one of the offers from broom manufacturers, but he felt comfortable with his Firebolt. He knew its movements by heart.

This would have to do. The handle was shining and there were no loose twigs.

"Potter."

Startling, Harry looked up, blinking as he saw Snape offer him a vial. "What is it?" There was only curiosity in his voice.

"Protection against curses. Put two drops on the handle." As usual, Snape showed him the amount of drops with his fingers -- holding them in another direction than Ron did whenever he made the gesture -- to make sure Harry got it right.

Harry took the vial gently and then dropped two fat gel like drops on the broom handle. The result was spectacular; silver sparks spread across the handle, encasing the broom in swirls of brightness. It burned intensely for a moment and then seemed to vanish inside the broom, leaving only a soft tingle behind.

Handing the vial back, Harry did nothing to hide the happy smile. "Thank you." It was accompanied by a soft touch on Snape's arm.

Dark amusement and a hint of embarrassment warred on Snape's face, finally turning into the familiar closed up expression as he turned to give the vial to Draco, not bothering to repeat his instructions. It was quite clear to him that the boy would manage.

"I should have enough of this for your people in a day or two," Snape said quietly, not looking at anyone else as he marched out of the room again.

Harry shook his head in amazement.

For a long time now, he'd suspected that there were lots of things Snape didn't understand about him. Most of the notions about sharing things came to mind. Now it was slowly dawning that there were things he would probably never understand about Snape either.

The man had never looked uncomfortable in public with him; not when Bill Weasley had so quietly announced their relationship to everyone, not when there had been even more whispers and stares.

Yet he was clearly annoyed by his small gesture of making certain he -- and Draco -- would be safe.

It made him feel warm inside, unable to do anything but to hold his broom and smile at Draco who was putting his broom servicing kit away and trying not to laugh at him.

On the other side of the room, Remus leaned back on his chair and declared, "Check."

Harry's dreams that night were filled with flying; not the reenactment of a Quidditch game they had played years ago, but the feeling of weightlessness and soaring through the air. Waking up well rested, he went quickly through his morning routines before gathering his flying robes from the wardrobe and heading for breakfast.

It was definitely odd to finish dressing in the hallway, pulling on the thicker flying robes when it was so hot outside, but here he was, standing side by side with Draco Malfoy, waiting for him to fasten his robes so they could finally leave.

"Is it just me, or is this completely ridiculous?" Draco asked, rotating his shoulder so that the robes fell in place correctly.

Harry couldn't help smirking as if he was going to comment on Draco's quite familiar outfit, but he simply said, "No, it's definitely not just you." It was different from the times they had managed to sneak out to play one on one Quidditch, flying for the fun of it.

"Good." Draco nodded. "Whenever you're ready."

Others were already waiting, lingering on the street outside their house as if unable to walk the short way to Hogwarts on their own. It was probably only natural; they'd done this in practices as well, everyone waiting until the whole team was ready before going to the pitch.

That was probably the reason for the easy way they formed lines and marched down the road, chattering quietly amongst themselves. Flying would have been easier, but transportation was a single effort while a game needed everyone to play together.

Harry wasn't surprised to see Madam Hooch standing in the middle of the pitch. She walked to the assembled group, greeting everyone with a nod and a few words. They had all started out here, most having their first flying lessons under her guidance and it was almost like coming home.

Finishing with the nods, she went to stand next to Oliver Wood, taking her place there in the group unselfconsciously.

That was definitely unnerving.

Harry shrugged. Somehow this all felt unreal, as if the normalcy of the situation was wrong and they should have a crowd here waiting for them, holding banners and shouting encouragements.

Just like Hooch should be up in the air, the familiar whistle hanging around her neck as she kept an eye on the teams, ready to call out any possible foul.

Letting go of the memories, Harry stepped away from the others, his movements clearly indicating he was prepared to take command. The way everyone perked up also showed that no one was going to challenge his place as their leader.

"Everyone ready?"

There were the usual nods and a few comments about being a bit rusty with the flying thing. Harry could tell by the relaxed looks and smiles that everyone was prepared for this, the words mostly just pre-game quips. Or maybe pre-game nerves.

"Before we begin... You all know why we're here, right?" He wasn't certain they had all been present at the meeting, but even if they had been, he still had to ask.

George summarized everyone's agreements by calling out, "Wizarding air force!"

His brother cuffed him at the side of his head, but laughed with the others nevertheless. There was an almost proud look on Charlie's face that disappeared immediately when George turned to glare at him.

"Yes, even though not really if you are thinking about an air force Muggle style." Harry could see that most of his troops had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. "We will fly and help people on the ground."

Seeing the approving nods, Harry waited for someone -- anyone -- to challenge his rather inane explanation, but no one said a word. There were a few suspicious glances thrown at him, but nothing more.

He sighed, dropping the matter. They'd have enough to do without him brooding over something that, in the end, was rather insignificant. Without further ado, he cast a charm, forming a pulsating field of energy over the pitch. They never used things like that in practices, but there would be no time to look after everyone when they started training with the curses, especially not on something as simple as falling.

"That'll make sure no one gets killed." There was no sign of a smile on his face; this was not a laughing matter. "Has everyone cast proper wards on your brooms?"

There were nods and a few affirmative words coming from everyone, just as he'd expected. These people were no idiots, and even though a normal Quidditch practice would probably go without curses, a player who didn't take care of his broom didn't get to play for long.

"Professor Snape is brewing a curse repelling potion for us. You will get it tomorrow."

There were a few nods and nervous tittering from some, and Harry kept his expression stony as he stared at everyone who thought him mentioning Snape was funny.

The following silence was highly satisfying.

Seeing everyone stand here so attentive didn't make something shrivel inside Harry like he'd feared. This was so unlike the meetings where everyone expected him to be able to lead and guide with impossible expectations; this was something he knew how to do.

No different from the training sessions where he took his team through carefully planned flying.

"All right, people. Spread out and mount your brooms." His mind was already shifting to the familiar gear, his voice certain as any Quidditch captain's. Funny how it didn't really matter that this wasn't about getting ready to defeat another team on the pitch.

Of course if this were a simple Quidditch practice, there would be a familiar team standing in front of him, all wearing the Gryffindor colors. Now there was a mismatched group of people on the field, larger in number than any real Quidditch team, with only adults attending, wearing well worn flying robes of all hue.

Draco Malfoy was standing next to him, wearing green robes and a smug expression, his broom already in place. Madam Hooch kept smirking at Harry when she took her place on his other side, as if she actually enjoyed the role of a simple student instead of being the one herding youngsters on their first flying lesson.

The attentive way everyone was looking at Harry was a clear reminder that this once he wasn't going to have to spell things out for his troops. Everyone here was a professional, and even though some might be a bit rusty with the finer points of flying, no one needed to be told the basics.

"All right then! Let's do some warm ups." Gesturing with his hand, Harry mounted his broom. He wasn't surprised to have the old Gryffindor team take their familiar places behind him, Oliver and Angelina tailing those who had come after their time on the team, easily adapting to the situation.

The rest of the people followed the Gryffindors, casting amused looks at each other.

For the first time, Harry was glad Ron had never made it to the Quidditch team, though it had been close a few times and not qualifying had always hit his friend hard. It would be hard enough to lead this tight band of people already, but with Ron here, it would be near impossible.

The thought brought a familiar wave of anxiety over him, and he glanced to his left, expecting to see George hovering there, on his usual place.

When he could only see Madam Hooch kicking herself up in the air, he frowned.

A strange thought hit him, and swallowing hard, he turned to look over his other shoulder, already knowing what he'd see. The sight of the redhead on his broom with a bemused expression on his face still almost knocked Harry off his Firebolt even though his feet were still firmly planted on the ground.

"Are you all right?" he asked without really thinking. He couldn't help it; seeing George in Fred's old position hit him harder than anything.

George blinked a few times and then nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Unable to really say anything to that, Harry kicked off the ground. Then the worry was diminished by the familiar thrill of flying.

He took the group out for an easy flight around the Quidditch pitch, making sure everyone was comfortable with flying so close to each other. The second round was faster, their route not a simple circle but loops and faints around the towers.

Hovering in the air as the others continued on their way around the pitch, Harry kept an eye on his people, assessing their skills and style with a sharp eye. They had always taken the House Cup matches seriously, but it was clear that everyone knew this was more important than that; the players who were out of sync with the others wouldn't simple lose them a prize, they would lose their lives.

It was very easy to see exactly what position each member of his new team had played, even with those who hadn't been playing for years. The Seekers were mostly ignoring the others, their eyes instinctively scanning the area for the Snitch. Chasers and Beaters flew closer to each other, adjusting to the rhythm of the flying as if it was a second nature by now, ready to react to the Quaffles and keep their Seekers safe. Most of the Keepers went to defensive maneuvers though there were no goals to protect.

Harry catalogued every move, knowing that they would have to hone their strategy so that everyone could do what they already did the best.

He knew the strengths and weaknesses of his old team better than anyone, except maybe for Oliver Wood, and was also familiar with the others he'd played against. Guiding people like Madam Hooch or Oliver himself -- who had always been something akin to a hero to him -- felt weird, but Harry knew perfectly well that they would have to treat this like a game on one respect; their team could only have one captain.

The fact that it would be him didn't seem to surprise anyone.

He watched the group fly by again, responding to the few waves and Draco's grin. It was easy to see that most of the older people had kept playing even after Hogwarts, either in small local teams or some even nationally. Oliver and Angelina soared across the sky with incredible grace, neither showing any regrets for leaving their teams behind to defend their whole world.

Harry's proud smile didn't disappear even when he saw George flying right behind them.

The movements were achingly familiar as Harry watched George swoop down and turn left before making a loop and swinging to right, two slightly different styles melding into one. There was perfect balance in the movements that were exact mirror images to each other, unlike earlier when it had at times seemed as if the two brothers were forever leaning towards each other.

Harry swooped down after them, taking his place slightly above the others. This felt right, and he didn't really care if they never found out what had happened and if George was crazy or not. It was clear that George believed that Fred was right there with him, and Harry didn't need mediwizards to prove him right.

He was going to go with his gut and believe it anyway.

Feeling insanely good, he muttered a sonorus, holding his wand easily even as he flew a bit higher, and then said, "Chasers! Make groups of three, people you know and are comfortable working with." He waited for a moment as his people tried to make the asked formations. When they seemed to be in place, he added, "We'll start with the Hawkshead Attacking Formation and then go to the Parkin's Pincer. Ready? Go!"

The Keepers and the other Seekers flew to the side, hovering in the air easily as the Chaser swooped down in groups of three, any hesitation forgotten at the familiar instructions.

Harry kept them working hard until midday, and then everyone went to have lunch before returning back to the pitch. He ignored the bustle in the Three Broomsticks, concentrating on the pieces of parchment where he was scribbling down ideas and strategy, keeping it firmly in mind that this time the objective wasn't going to be goals and finding the Snitch.

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