The Lost Horcrux

Close to the Bones

Disclaimers: Dark themes, police state ideas, mention of spousal abuse (including rape) on and off-screen, death of minor characters, graphic imagery and violence, frank sex discussion, copious bad language, bashing the fucking Weasley's and Dumbledore, liberties taken with mythical history.

***

Hermione was sat on the toilet for at least half an hour. She was so afraid to look at the little Muggle device in her hand that she was frozen in place, unable to move. The cubicle of the restroom of Leaky Cauldron was frightfully small, but it encapsulated her feelings of being trapped almost callously well. She felt enclosed on all sides, the world heaving in on her as she sat stock still, with her knickers round her ankles.

And it was no better outside.

"If that strip turns blue, I'll kick you in the stomach myself."

"You're so not helping, Sue," Hermione retorted angrily.

"You'll thank me for it later," Susan replied, tapping her foot impatiently on the stall door. "Come on. If we don't hurry up, people will think we're going down on each other in here."

"What?!"

"Don't sound so scandalised," Susan laughed. "I'll have you know I'm a very good shag, when I want to be. Before Blaise forced me down the aisle, I was fighting the wizards off. Witches, too, if you must know."

"Really?" asked Hermione. She'd always suspected that Sue was partial to a bit of witch-love. She tended to stand just a little too close when they shared communal showers after the gym or swimming club. This just confirmed it.

"Merlin, yes," said Sue, her tone dreamy. "Before Jenny made an honest witch out of Sally-Anne, me and Miss Perks used to have some very intimate girly nights in at our flat, if you know what I mean. Ah, I miss the good old days."

"Don't we all," Hermione moaned. "But it's the bad future days I'm more panicked about right now."

"I told you not to worry," Sue told her firmly through the door. "If it turns out that one of Ron's little swimmers has forced its way into your lady egg, I'll cut the fucking spawn out myself and make it look like an accident."

"Thank you?" Hermione quipped, uncertain if Sue was joking or not.

"What are best friends for?" Sue sniffed. "What's taking that thing so long, anyway? Are you sure you peed on it properly?"

"Quite sure," Hermione assured her. "Gave me a greater appreciation of just how difficult it is for boys when they have to go. I wonder if it's a natural thing, or if they have to be taught to aim the flow just right?"

"Who knows?" Sue laughed mirthlessly. "It's taking ages, though. Maybe it's defective, like your husband! Merlin ... I bet he could beat his best sex duration record before that strip turns a funny colour from your piss. What's the standard time for that premature ejaculating fuckwit, would you say?"

"It barely lasts five minutes these days ... and there's always more minutes than inches, if you get my point ... so I suppose I should be thankful for small miracles, really!"

Sue snorted bitterly at that. "Lucky you. I have to put up with Blaise ... and that bastard is a fucking athlete in the bedroom. Hung like a Thestral, too, worse luck. I tell you, when he sticks it up my arse ... as a treat ... I can barely walk for days afterwards."

"Sue! Please! I don't need to hear this!"

"But maybe you should have tried it! If you'd played Ron a little better, perhaps this minor mishap might not have happened."