Harry

A long stretch. A valley, thick with shadow. A sky, empty of glimmer.

A figure. Smoke coils his head, drifting into the maw of the moon behind him. The still of his silhouette, the impression of his voice.

“Go on, Ears. I know where this shit’s going. I got places to be, so let’s make this quick, huh?”

“Really gonna’ make me do this? No other way? This is ridiculous, Harry, I…”

“Ain’t makin’ you do shit,” rasps the ether. “You’re gonna’ do what you’re gonna’ do, I’m gonna’ do what I’m gonna’ do. We both know that.”

He flicks his cigarette into the dirt, stomping it out as he glowers expectantly down the way.

His gaze won’t leave yours.

The howling wind sweeps the valley cold. It rolls through your body like you’re not even there.

The stock is already at your shoulder, and the sights aligned. The decision was made before either of you spoke.

You pull the trigger.

You hit the ground.

Cold, in an instant. The only heat is the agony in your limbs, starving for blood beneath pins and needles, and the crimson welling in your throat. Gasping, lost in shock, you peer up from the dirt.

A figure. Maned, caped, armed, smoke coiling from the end of his gun and into the void of night. Through the dark, through the terror, you lock one shaking eye with his.

———

Nestled into the arms of your lover, you awake with a start, that horrific chill haunting you out of the dream, if but for a moment. Vernon is practically awake before you are, certainly *present* before you are, gently urging you back into his grasp as the frayed panic gives way to the calm of a dark bedroom.

“Gail… y—y’alright? Shit…” he mutters, even shaking a little himself—perhaps he’s shouldering some of your burden! The thought puts the inkling of a smile on your twitching maw, as you just press yourself into him.

“Ugh… s—sorry, hon… I—it’s… I’m still thinking about… last week, that’s all.” you huff, deciding to rest your aching eyes and simply bury your face in the scruff of his neck as you amble back into reality.

“Eh—H… Harry, right? Couldn’t help but notice y’weren’t… telling me much—not as much as, uh, usual, anyway?” You feel his hands roaming, looking for a comfortable place to settle and best comfort you. One finds the crest of your mane, gently sifting through the fiery fur. Pressed so close, you can feel the tension in him—you know he isn’t used to this.

It’s fine. He will be, in time. Your arms snake about him, as you breathe a weary huff into his shoulder.”I knew Harry for—ergh—years. I’d worked with him time after time after time, and it seemed like he had his head on even straighter’n mine. I just don’t know what the Hell happened… or… if—if maybe I missed somethin’ in all of that…” you sigh.

“You said he uh… went rogue, right? Started killin’ mages?” As the immediate panic of the situation settles, so too does Vernon just a bit, sliding his other hand down to squeeze yours as he pulls you tighter into him. You’re both shaking a little less!

“He killed… three people. Cold blood, far as I could tell. They were all… talented mages. Wouldn’t say he did it, but he’d happily tell me all about how he thought folks like that were gonna’ destroy the world one day,” you scoff, rankled even now by the memory of him smugly lecturing you on the topic while still maintaining his plausible deniability. “I… I looked everywhere, I did everything I could, but I couldn’t find a lick of dirt on any of the three. Far as I could tell, he was just pickin’ ‘em off pre-emptively. I couldn’t understand it, he’d never been like that before… it makes me think…”

“…that he mighta’ known something you didn’t?” Keen ears on that one, Vernon. He squeezes your hand.

“…yeah. I just don’t get it. N’I guess that’s got me thinkin’ all sorts of other stuff. I mean—he n’ I were two sides of the same coin. Been through a lot of the same stuff, had that same kinda’… sense of duty, I guess, to others. And where’d all that lead him, huh…? Urgh…” You lodge yourself against him, stealing every bit of that warmth from him that you can, tangling one of your legs in his and pulling him tight against you for a moment.

“C’mon, Gail… not everybody’s the same. You know that. Not everbody’s… built for this kinda’ thing. Can’t let this one… freak make you question everything…” he titters in his adorably trembling way, an effort toward some levity. The levity is nice and all, but it’s his laugh that really chips at the ice.

Still, you finally bring yourself to sit up a bit, locking eyes with him even in the scant moonlight the window affords you both.

”I dunno, Vernon. I’m scared. I’m scared that… someday I’m gonna’ be that guy, and I’m never gonna’ know when I’ve crossed that line. Justice can’t just be… one guy and his gun,” you mutter, your voice growing shaky. You’ve had this argument with yourself many times, and the resolution never seems to stick.

“Hh… well, it ain’t just you and your gun, is it? When are you ever makin’ decisions just between you n’ the gun? How ‘bout the… evidence? The folks you talk to? It’s not like you’re just… puttin’ people down left and right. Never seen anybody agonize over somethin’ the way you did last week.” Familiar logic, but to hear it from his snout… your ears flick. At once, you feel reassured, but then the knife twists—so easily affirmed, are you?

With a little whine, you hide your face against him again, holding him tighter than you ever had before.

“I—I don’t know, Vernon. I… I just don’t know,” you say. Unfamiliar words for your maw, or so Vernon thinks, as he presses an insistent kiss to the top of your forehead.

“Mmh… well, I do. I know you’re… somethin’ special. Most people ain’t built for this kinda’ life, but you’re not most people…” He tucks a paw under your chin, lifting it to meet his gaze again. “Y’hear me? Just ‘cause some… jackass can’t tell right from wrong doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

The words knock about inside your head. He wasn’t just a jackass, you think to protest. He was one of the smartest men you’d ever known—eyes sharper than your own. What did he see that you didn’t?

But here, now, you can’t bring yourself to argue. You just can’t help but smile at the way he’s looking at you.

Pushing those pinprick-tears back, you laugh quietly and throw yourself into him, rolling him over onto his back and draping yourself across him with an exhausted huff as he snickers and squeezes you tight into his side.

“Well… I guess I don’t gotta’ figure it all out at two in the morning. Ugh. We gotta’ get rest, anyway, gotta’ move tomorrow…”

“Heh, ‘course. I ah… love ya’, Gail.”

“Eheh—I love you too, Vernon…”