Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Harry and Harley, Chapters 5 and 6 By Rihaan Shimomura

   I don't recommend reading the story in this format, as it doesn't have
italics or bolds or anything else I may try to add to the story format.  I
recommend going to
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Rihaan_Shimomura/Stories/HandH/ to read
this.  But hey, if you want to read it this way, that's your prerogative.

   Chapter 5: Parallels

   Harleen Quinzel, despite the last few hours, found herself awake, in the
middle of their large bed, and worried.

   After Harry had thoroughly pleasured her with his unnaturally talented
tongue, he had taken her once again, while Ivy watched, touching herself,
this time under much more pleasant circumstances.  After her first orgasm,
she sauntered over to them and kissed her, caressing the length that had
yet to explore the blonde's depths.

   She fathomed that he wouldn't be able to fully penetrate her for a few
years yet - she was a small girl, at five foot two, and just over a hundred
pounds.  She could only hope that she had more growing to do.

   And that was the thought that made her worry.  Well, one of them.

   He wasn't going to be there, to grow with her, to be there with her and
Ivy.  Eventually, he had to go home.

   And now, not even twenty-four hours after meeting him, she was beginning
to find it hard to imagine him leaving their lives.

   She remembered Luna's words; she found it difficult to think about
anything else; the sight of her two favorite people 'getting along'
distracting her for a few hours, but now the thought was back after a much
needed rest.

   How could she potentially love someone, knowing that she could never see
him again after, /maybe/, a couple of weeks?

   She couldn't ask him to stay - he practically had a family at home, and
while she occasionally deluded herself with thoughts that she and Ivy were
the most beautiful, and loveable, she wanted to be realistic.

   She was replaceable, really.  In fact, had she not known him as well as
she did, she could very well say that this was simply a summer vacation
from his regular girls, and he could very well chalk it up to another
amazing experience when he went to his world, not looking back.

   She could very easily see that happening.

   She glanced over to him, on her left.  Her head was on his arm, and he
slept so peacefully, so child-like.

   Pamela looked like that when she was asleep, too.  She was so vulnerable
around her, so safe, and Harley cherished it.

   And it reminded her of the /other/ reason she worried; her Pammy.

   She and Harry had romped beautifully, and Pamela seemed to have just as
much fun.  She even went to grab the vial of medicine she had left in the
discarded jean shorts in the hallway, and had sensually rubbed him across
his scar-filled back while he reached out and fingered her moist snatch
with as just a slow and agonizing pace.  He had joked, with his head in
Harley's lap as she strummed her fingers in his hair, that they both close
their eyes if they actually wanted to continue.

   It really wasn't a joke, in hindsight.  He had said it with a laugh and
a grin, but she could tell he was genuinely worried that they were
disgusted by his scars to a point where the fun might stop forever.

   So yes, Harley ultimately decided, Harry was a one-in-a-million gem. 
Tomorrow, if he had the chance to leave, he would possibly want to stay for
a few more days.  Hell, maybe he would ask her to come with him?

   Her optimism was in full effect, and she knew it, but she didn't care.
Maybe, if they could find a way to travel back and forth between his
homeland and hers, she would never have to be apart from him.

   She was certain that he felt something for them.  If, at the least,
something for /her/.

   No matter how implausible (compared to the rest of his life story, she
sarcastically reminded herself) it alleviated her fears of the first
problem.  And it only compounded to the other problem.

   Harry's steady and slow tickle of Ivy's womanhood had her panting and
wanting, to a point where her hands trembled against his skin.  Harley had
a perfect view, and she made the offer to Harry that he should do a little
more than scratch her itch.

   She was haunted by the look on Ivy's face.  It was only there for a
half-second, but it was there.  She looked so...  uneasy, at the thought;
almost fearful.  Harley was so distracted by the look, that she barely
heard Harry's tired excuse.  Seconds later, the look was forgotten, and Ivy
went on to cum on his digits, even as he prodded her anal passage again
with his middle finger, and they all fell asleep soon after, Harry on her
left, Ivy on her right.  Harry never saw Ivy's expression, and Ivy had
never noticed her girlfriend's stare.

   So, Ivy wasn't yet ready to take that step, and Harley completely
understood.

   And still, some part of her, maybe the selfish part, wondered if she
/ever/ could be ready.

   She wasn't bothered by the thought of Ivy not having actual sex with
Harry.  If anything, that was a normal reaction to someone she had known
for less than a day.  She was only mildly worried at the notion that Ivy
might not trust him for a few days yet, to let him go that far with her.

   But she had seen the way Harry reacted before, when he saw that she felt
uncomfortable around him.  She did not want that to happen again.

   /No one should feel uncomfortable in her own home/, he said.  And she
agreed.  She did not want that to happen, either.

   Not to mention, she was feeling a bit...  overwhelmed by their
activities.  It hurt in a pleasant way before, but now...  it just hurt. 
Being stuffed to the literal brim did that to a girl.

   Her hand grazed his arm, before kissing it, and rolling over to lay
against her dear Ivy.

   She almost wished she had a smaller bed.  This was going to be quite a
balancing act otherwise.

   She was going to show him the sights and sounds of Gotham tonight, and
she hoped that everyone would be on the same page.  Or they'd fall before
they even began.

   She kissed Ivy's cheek before closing her eyes into a dreamless sleep.

   Minutes later, Ivy slowly blinked awake, feeling a lingering tickle
against her cheek.  She glanced to her left and saw her blond-haired lover
close to her, her head nestled near her shoulder.

   Pamela smiled the softest of smiles, and kissed her forehead. 
'/Goodnight, love,/' she mouthed to herself, before drifting back to sleep.

   ------------------------

   Harry watched with fascination as Harleen dipped half of her head in the
bowl of red ink, her half-nude body stretching wonderfully.  "You have to
do that every time?"

   "Uhuh," she confirmed, not breaking stride as she grabbed her can of
spray.  She slipped on a dirty glove to section off the other half of her
hair, and sprayed generously on the red side to get the roots of her hair
splashed with color.  She placed the can down, and grabbed another glove
for her bare hand to play with her soaked red hair, separating the strands
to make sure there were no blonde strands left.  She checked the mirror. 
"It dries quick, and it's waterproof, so it's perfect," she beamed, moving
the bowl to the side and grabbing a pre-filled bowl of green solution.

   He glanced over at Ivy, who was currently adjusting her leaf and vine
leotard-like outfit, showing a less-than-modest, and especially
eye-catching amount of cleavage.  "That's one way of distracting an
opponent."

   She looked over to him and grinned.  "Sometimes - when Harley's not just
as distracted, it's useless."

   "Not my fault," she muttered over the spray, expertly shielding her eyes
from the green paint.  "Take it as a compliment.  Harry will be just as
distracted - trust me."

   Harry shrugged.  "I can multi-task.  I can try, anyways."

   "And that's all we can do," Harleen sighed listlessly.  Pamela rolled
her eyes and slipped into her green, elfish slippers.

   "We plan on running into a few people tonight," she reminded them, "so
just don't be /too/ distracted."

   "No promises," Harry promised.

   "I'll keep him in line," the now green/redhead said with a grin truly
worthy of Harley Quinn, delicately applying her lipstick.

   "Green, today?" Harry asked, seeing the colour.

   She hummed and popped her lips, before sending a kiss at him.  "Yep.  I
like to alternate.  Red, Green and Black.  Ivy, too."

   "Any significance to the three colors?  There seems to be a theme."

   Ivy straightened her hair with her fingers, fanning it around her
shoulders beautifully.  After flipping her hair once more, she responded.
"Green is a given, and red is Harley's favorite color.  Everything goes
great with black."

   "What's your favorite color?" Harley wondered, grabbing two sets of
rubber bands from a dresser seemingly dedicated to her chosen outfit.  "I'd
have to use it for the suit design."

   "If I'm part of the team, I suppose green and black."

   Harleen nodded, parting her hair directly down the middle, between the
colors.  "Okay.  I can work with that.  You aren't allergic to spandex, are
you?"

   Harry wasn't sure whether to answer her.  "That depends on how much
spandex you plan on using."

   She shrugged, her hair now in her trademark pigtails.  "Not too much...
just enough to show off your assets."

   "I don't think I'd get the same results as Ivy," Harry pointed out, and
the green-skinned beauty stuck out her tongue at the both of them in
response.

   "We'll worry about it when we're actually committing a crime.  For now,
this is just a run through of the city.  You'll need to know what you're up
against, and we need to see what you can do.  If we're unlucky, we'll run
into Night Terror."

   "Night Terror?  The guy you were talking about earlier?"

   "Yup," The blue-eyed girl confirmed, slinking into her red and green
ensemble.  "He goes by a lot of names, but this week is Night Terror, word
on the street.  The news is trying to hype up 'Bat Man', but it's kinda
silly."

   "Batman?" Harry raised his eyebrows.  "Isn't that name already taken?"

   They looked at him weirdly.  "Who would have the opportunity to take
that name, or /want/ it?" Ivy questioned, confused.  "You've heard that
name before?"

   "My cousin reads a lot of comics," he explained, "and while he never let
me read them, I vaguely remember a Man with a half-mask, pointed ears, a
cape, and underwear outside his body."

   They continued to look at him strangely.

   "So the guy's...  a legend where you're from?" Harleen asked.  "He has a
freaking comic book now?"

   "He could be taking from the comic book," Harry shrugged.  "But I
remember that the comic was made in Nineteen eighty-seven."

   No one moved.  No one breathed.  Harley's hand stopped halfway up her
sleeve, and Ivy's lipstick dropped from her limp fingers.  Harry twitched
as the tube loudly clanged against the floor.

   "Er..." he started uncomfortably.  "I suppose if either of you don't
mind telling me the date?"

   Harley hesitated before she spoke.  "It's June nineteenth...  nineteen
seventy-four."

   They could both see Harry's jaw drop a centimeter or two at the news. 
"What day is it in your...  dimension?" If he had come from a completely
different year, then Ivy didn't know what else to call it.

   "Nineteen ninety-five," Harry muttered, just loud enough for them to
hear.  "It was June eighteenth when I left."

   "So it's been exactly twenty-one years," Harley noted disbelievingly. 
"And you can still keep in contact with your girls as you left them..."

   Everyone took a moment to absorb that information.  The complexity of
inter-dimensional space and time travel was such a marvel in itself, and
what was only a possibility in the realm of science-fiction, to now become
completely and totally non-fiction to them, was...  a hard pill to swallow,
to say the least.

   "That's kind of a bitch," Harley said weakly, trying to get the mood
back up.  Luckily, Harry let out a surprised chuckle, and she felt a bit of
pride.

   They entered a much more comfortable silence.  Harry took the moment to
cast a subtle cleaning charm on himself.  He hadn't really changed his
clothes since yesterday morning, and he didn't pack anything for his
impromptu and unexpected vacation, so he really didn't have anything else.
He had banished them once, but he could easily recall them - something he
was eternally grateful for when he banished his partners' clothing in a
moment of impatience.

   After looking over his battle-weary dress shirt once more, he ultimately
decided to shed the shirt altogether.  Only his white, almost pristine
t-shirt remained.

   "Well," Harry cleared his throat.  "Are we ready to go?"

   "Hold on," Ivy cocked her head to the side, "did you read any of the
comics?"

   Harry shook his head, and wordlessly conjured a red beanbag behind him.
He fell onto the plush chair, hard.  "What's the drinking age here?"

   Harley and Ivy glanced at each other.  "Do you really think that'd be a
good idea?" Harley asked him delicately.

   "No," he mumbled, "but I'd like to keep my options open.  I'd be
surprised if Rosmerta even has a bar right now.  Dumbledore is probably
still there, though.  And his brother, now that I think about it." He
glanced over at Harley.  "Think you can put up with me for a bit longer
while I try to figure things out?"

   She pulled her other arm through the top half of her suit.  "Depends on
if you can keep up," she smiled.

   "Don't sound too disappointed," Pamela chastised him as she sauntered to
Harley, adding a bit of sway to her hips as she passed by him, his head at
waist level.  "You're only with two incredibly beautiful women while you
pass the time, here."

   "It's not the staying here I'm worried about," Harry dryly commented. 
"It's the reaction I'll get when I go back."

   Pamela slipped the zipper up to the back of her neck, before fastening
the seamless clasp that hid the zipper.  She kissed the nape of Harley's
neck and wrapped her arms around her shoulders from behind.  She looked at
Harry over her girlfriend's shoulder, blowing the green pigtail partially
out of the way.  "I've seen men do worse to get out of a relationship."

   Harry snorted in laughter, while Harley slipped on her fingerless
gloves. "You've got a plan, Pammy?"

   She swiveled her head negatively, her chin still on Harley's shoulder.
"It's just a night out.  We wait for the welcoming committee, you show off
a bit," she stared pointedly at him, "and my vines will wrap around their
legs and distract them long enough to get away.  If it gets too hectic, you
could pop us out of there?" She questioned him.

   Harry nodded, thinking furiously.  "If we want to make a statement," he
slowly stressed, "We're going to have to make it loud.  We make a display,
sure, but we make it /look/ like a show."

   "What did you have in mind?" Harley asked curiously, leaning into Ivy's
touch.

   "A new change of clothes, for one." He patted his cargo pants, the dark
green material frayed slightly.  "Not the best wardrobe to make a first
impression."

   "Want to lift some bargain clothes on the way to the plaza?" Ivy raised
an eyebrow.  She didn't want to admit it, but they made a /beautiful/ team,
her and Harley.  His clothes made him seem a bit out of place.  Anything in
pristine condition would do him wonders.

   "Maybe on the way back.  I'd rather you guys pick my clothes.  You
should have a pretty close guess as to what I can fit in."

   "You don't want to model for us?" Harley pouted, and Pamela felt a
twinge of disappointment.  She wasn't going to lie to herself - he looked
/good/, if a bit on the skinny side.

   The ebony-haired teen grinned at the cute couple.  "After the show I
just got, I don't think I can deny you.  Maybe later tonight, or in the
morning, though.  Ivy, do you have a few extra vials I could borrow?"

   She made a humming sound.  "What /do/ you have in mind, exactly?"

   ------------------------

   Gotham was a cesspool of thieves and murderers.  Irredeemable, criminal
scum plagued the populated city like locusts, feeding off the weak and
defenseless.  Streetwalkers stepped out of police cars, and back under the
broken lamppost to continue advertising their flesh well into the morning,
disgruntled at their pre-arranged discount with the men of the law who
turned the other cheek.  Weak, troubled men slapped at their arms, their
skin burning, their eyes red, their lust for the fix only temporarily
sated.

   At the right time, usually nightfall, you could almost /see/ the city
sink into the darkest pits of hell, and the most disgusting sights could be
witnessed - if you dared not lock your home, lie down, and hope you could
still draw breath by the sun's wake.

   Or, best case scenario, /get the hell out of Gotham/.

   At least, that's how it /was/.

   The Dark Knight crouched in the crevice of the shadows the tops of the
buildings provided him, his breath steady, his posture relaxed, his cape
flowing smoothly in the breeze behind him.

   Gotham was now a peaceful city.  A safe city.

   /The Batman's city/.

   /"Any available patrol units; we have a sighting on the duo known as the
Femme Fatale.  I repeat; Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn have been spotted in
the Bowery, near the Jezebel Plaza.  There is an unknown with them, and he
seems to be unharmed and willing.  As always, consider them armed and
dangerous.  Do not approach."/

   The Dark Knight pondered the words on the scanner.  Harley Quinn had
gone solo yesterday, and had successfully robbed a jewelry shop.  Bruce
Wayne, unfortunately, was in a WayneTech meeting, and by the time he could
don the cape and cowl, they had lost her.

   Gotham police wanted nothing to do with him - Commissioner Loeb making
it clear by titling him Public Enemy #1 - so he wasn't getting any
information from them.  What with Gordon and Essen doing everything they
could to capture him, he had to distance himself from crime scenes, and he
couldn't question Mrs.  Hepplewhite, the owner, about the security.

   Had he been there, he probably wouldn't have lost her trail.  She and
Ivy made a discouragingly great team.  When one was captured, the other
served as a distraction, and a heavy one at that.  Ivy had nature itself,
and Harley had a bazooka, and /impeccable/ aim.  She had also proved to be
an accomplished escape artist, moments after he managed to get handcuffs on
her for the first and only time.

   Together, they had destroyed two Batmobiles so far.  And one Batwing.

   So in his eyes, they were his main focus, and the biggest problem.  And,
if what the Lieutenant had mentioned in the briefing that morning in the
bugged conference room was true, Harley Quinn was getting better.

   It didn't worry him that Harley had managed to escape them.

   What worried him was how quietly she broke in this time.

   Subtlety and Harley Quinn didn't go together.  In fact, you could say
they were archrivals.  She had gotten into the store completely undetected,
and only when she was seen breaking out did the off-duty officer call the
police.

   At first, he didn't know what to take of that news.  She was alone, and
trying something new.  Generally, that meant that she was trying to break
out on her own, or Ivy couldn't be with her for some reason.  Both were
usually good.  And now, as the announcement was broadcast through the
scanner, his hopes were dashed.

   He set his shoulders.  He didn't expect this to be easy.  He never did.

   With barely a whisper, he pushed into the night, towards the Bowery.

   That other presence was disconcerting, but nothing to be concerned
about. Pamela hit gold when she formed an alliance with Harley; to find
someone just as good to cause havoc with would be near inconceivable.  Just
in case, he would make sure their guest was there of his own volition.

   Then he would take them all down.  He was sick of playing cat and mouse.

   And if he let the most elusive team in Gotham grow, then he very well
could one day be the mouse.

   ------------------------

   "You have fans," Harry noted, staring around at the bright lights,
unflinching.

   "You can't get around in this city anymore." Harley pouted cutely, and
Poison Ivy smiled at the display.

   "Seems to be more than usual, though," she muttered, her eyes curious.

   They were surrounded in a circle.  They had walked around the Jezebel
for about fifteen minutes.  Two minutes in, someone finally had the guts to
call the police.  The three decided to situate themselves in the middle of
the plaza, standing in a small circle, and waited for all four
intersections to crowd themselves with police cars.

   So far, they were ignoring the mass of men and women in blue, only
conversing with each other, despite the commands of the officers to get on
their knees.  Harry put up a shield around them, in case there was a
trigger-happy officer in the crowd.

   No one had dared to approach them.  Not yet.

   "Kinda makes me proud; that we can bring this much fear.  A little
flatterin'."

   "So what did you do to earn this kind of recognition?"

   Ivy shrugged.  "I believe this is the first time we've really been out
in the open.  I've attacked some places of interest, such as the Mayor's
house.  I occasionally tried to bring the entire population's men under my
control and have them turn on each other.  I've had human-sized Venus
flytraps on the corner of every street, shooting poisonous spores to anyone
who moved towards it.  That was the first and last time I was captured. 
The stupid vigilante attacked my plants until I was weak enough to be
brought down."

   "Since then," Harley continued for her, "We've been stealing some
chemicals from botanical gardens.  Occasionally, Ivy's had to '/haunt/' a
few forests that were being considered for chopping down.  Most of our
time's been building the wonderful greenhouse we now live in, and getting
the materials smuggled to just outside of Gotham with no one noticing, not
even with Bat surveillance, is pretty hard work.  Upstanding citizen
Harleen helped, but only after Ivy and Harley robbed a few banks for her to
buy anything.  We've had to do double heists every now and then as a
distraction.  No one takes precedence over the hardware store's missing
tools when the Art Museum is missing some prized works.  There was also
that one time we rearranged the face of the Cyrus Pinkney Statue, and blew
up a bridge.  Other than that...  I can't think of anything else.  Ivy?"

   "We also may have kidnapped the former Mayor's wife, so he could pass an
environmental bill."

   "As it turns out, trophy wives aren't the best bait."

   "I think she was perfectly willing to stay with us, though.  She gave
Harley her number."

   "God, that was embarrassing.  Just seeing how plastic and fake she
looked.  It was /unnatural/.  When she licked her lips at me, her tongue
wiped /years/ off her upper lip."

   "The entire experience didn't really count in the end.  He didn't care,
and only when we let her go did she tell everyone what happened.  She said
we were two nameless masked men to protect us - because, really, that's
just embarrassing - and they ended up divorcing.  He was eventually
impeached when his mistress spoke up about his affair."

   "And your hatred for men grew three sizes that day."

   "...  Did you just compare me to a green monster?"

   "What?  Er..."

   "Looks like we have company," Harry noted, looking upwards.  "Huh... 
not as dramatic as I thought."

   "Sorry," Harley muttered to Ivy.  "I didn't mean it that way.  Honest!"

   "I was just joking, Harley," Ivy smirked at her lover.  "I know you
didn't think about it.  After we deal with them, you cook dinner tonight.
Deal?"

   Harley smiled gratefully.  "Deal, Red." She turned towards the cops and
twisted her fingers around her mallet, her grin now deadly.  "You'll love
it, Harry.  It's to die for."

   "Not a good choice of words," he muttered, "but oddly, tempting;
considering I haven't eaten in a day."

   "The dangers of too much mind-blowing sex," Ivy muttered to herself,
tensing her muscles.  "Sometimes you forget the basics."

   Harley used her free hand to point over to the patrol car in the back.
"Looks like all the major players are here.  That over there would be
Commissioner Loeb.  Captain Gordon and Detective Essen would be right over
there.  The one trying to flank us would be Branden - " She glared back
menacingly at the heavily armored man with a shield, and he, along with the
rest of his team, held their position stiffly, not daring to go any
further. "He's the head of SWAT.  Bullock is probably somewhere eating a
donut.  The cute Latina in the frontline is Officer Ramirez.  She's the one
that showed me around Blackgate.  She still doesn't know."

   "You were so innocent then," Ivy pondered aloud.  "A completely
different person.  I hope you enjoyed the change as much as I did." Harry
felt the ground shake beneath him.  Harley took it in stride, and heaved
her mallet to rest on her shoulder.

   "Oh, I don't think ya know how much I liked it, Red," She grinned, her
accent in full effect.  "That concludes our tour of Gotham City.  We hope
you enjoy your stay, Harry."

   Harry took a deep breath, and he saw everything; the police standing
behind the doors of their car, shotguns at the ready; the irate Captain
Gordon yelling something unintelligible through the blowhorn; the lone
figure on the roof watching the three with interest.

   Harry exhaled.

   "Oh.  I think I'll /love/ it here.  When you're ready, Ivy."

   ------------------------

   "This is your last warning!  Get on the ground and put your hands behind
your head or we will apprehend you!" Gordon lowered the blowhorn and turned
to his command officer, the commissioner.  "Proceed?"

   Loeb grinned toothily.  "Close in on em.  We will capture them by any
means necessary."

   Captain Gordon relayed the command in the radio, and hastily added that
the officers do not shoot.

   And the circle began to shrink.  The trio now found themselves
surrounded by officers with shields.  Cars slowly rolled forward, the car
doors wide open, giving the officers ample protection.  Branden waited
until his colleagues stepped closer until he trained his machine gun on
them, and began stepping forward with them, discarding his shield.

   The three didn't move.  Harley, Ivy and Harry stood, their backs to each
other, their postures unwavering.  Harley had one hand on her hip, the
other hoisting her large metallic mallet on her shoulder, her green-painted
grin menacing, red contact eyes haunting.  Ivy grinned sultrily at the
guards, her green eyes glowing, her red hair moving with some unknown
force, the earth making minute cracks beneath her feet.

   And Harry stood tall, his green eyes focused and unmoving, his hands
clenching and unclenching, his mouth in a frown.

   Ivy breathed tensely, and linked her hands with Harry.

   One by one, the headlights switched off.  The engines shut.  Sarah Essen
looked around in confusion as the neon light to the puppet shop began to
fade.

   Then there was darkness.  Flashlights began to flicker on, and just as
quickly, blinked off.

   Everyone could still see each other, and quite clearly.  The moon shone
brightly tonight.  Someone shouted that the moon could go out as well, and
raised his gun at Harry.

   He pulled the trigger, and nothing happened.

   "/What the fuck?/" Howard Branden cursed loudly, and snarled.  He
clicked the gun a few more times, and threw it to the ground.

   Gordon punched the hood of his car.  "Branden, control yourself!  Do not
shoot!"

   "He's doing this, you /idiot/!  He's - "

   He kept screaming at Gordon.  He kept screaming at everyone.  They could
all see his mouth continue to move.

   And no one could hear him.

   Branden choked on his voice.  He grabbed at his throat and coughed. 
Nothing.  He wheezed, and got the same result.

   The audience around him were stunned into silence as he stumbled
backwards, nary a whisper escaping his lips.

   Someone chuckled.  He looked up, fresh with rage.

   Harley covered her mouth, her giggles getting louder.  Then, after a few
more seconds, she broke her hand away and burst into fits of laughter. 
"Holy /crap/, that's funny!"

   Branden yelled some choice, unspoken words, and raised his machinegun at
Harley.  He pulled the trigger, and it clicked once again.

   "You were right," The man behind her noted.  "He /is/ the hair trigger
of this whole group.  He's a rabid dog that needs to be put down."

   Branden ran forward, and threw a fist at them.

   /THWACK/.

   Harry watched in fascination as Branden flew to the side like a ragdoll,
his cap flying in the other direction with the impact.  He twisted in
midair, his body contorting hilariously.  He landed and rolled several
times before he went still.

   Harley's mallet now rested on her other shoulder, looking no less worse
for wear.  "On second thought," her green lips twisted into a small grin,
"/That/ was funny."

   Harry quickly turned to the rest, and he heard the sounds of several
guns being cocked and several screams of indignation, most from the rest of
the SWAT team.

   And then he caught on /fire/.

   Everyone stopped for a moment in shock, except for Ivy and Harley.  They
stared in wonder and fear at the man who burned brightly in the night, but
appeared to be unharmed.  Not even his clothes singed at the remarkable
heat that emanated from his body, and the two girls remained unaffected,
even Ivy's held hand.

   Then they began to notice the changes.  First, it was his t-shirt, which
slowly twisted from a bright white into a dark red, the color running so
smoothly down his shirt that he almost appeared to /bleed/ into it.  The
sleeves grew to his wrists, and the entire shirt thickened almost
unnoticeably, strengthening and hardening.  His cargo pants, slowly but
surely, tore against his body, shredding and ripping randomly along his
legs, and just as quickly, a leathery material weaved into existence,
wrapping around his legs and torso, flawlessly following along with his
cotton tears.

   And then, as abruptly as it started, it was over.  Everyone stared at
the sight in front of them, not really believing their eyes.

   Enormous, glinting green claw marks smattered against his crimson
long-sleeve, three long matching slashes for each mark, accompanied by a
small tear in the fabric for each green strike.  His nondescript black
jeans were marred as well, the tops of his jeans flowing smoothly with the
bottom of his shirt, one clawmark covering his middle.

   Harry Potter's piercing green eyes burned.  He frowned.

   "Well?"

   Gordon hesitated.  "We don't want to hurt you."

   He glanced at the drawn guns around him.  "You really could've fooled
me."

   "Just surrender quietly, and come with us."

   Harry pondered to himself.  "No."

   Gordon rested his elbows on the hood of his car, his handgun trained on
Harry's torso.  "No?"

   "I haven't committed a crime."

   "You're associating with criminals."

   He shrugged.  "That's another way of saying it."

   A whirring sound reached his ears.  "Helicopter's here," Harley
announced aloud, turning away from Branden to look at Harry.  "Ready to
make the front page?"

   "You're enjoying this," he noted, and his lips quirked into a small
smile.

   "I could just be excited about cooking dinner later," she said slyly,
before grabbing his hand and squeezing.

   Harry squeezed both of his lovers' hands back.  "Now you've made me
hungry again."

   "Then let's get out of here," Ivy spoke up, her eyes scanning the crowd.
"I think we've given them enough to talk about for a while."

   "You three aren't going /anywhere/," the Captain warned, his teeth set
on edge.  He flicked back the hammer of his gun.  "Move in and apprehend
now!"

   "You know," Harry muttered as the group slowly closed in, "you never
told me about one thing."

   "Oh?" Harley tightened her grip on the mallet.  "And that is?"

   "Casualties."

   "We avoid them when we can." The concrete shook beneath them again, and
Ivy cursed.  "Damn sewers.  It's poisoning and wilting my babies before I
can bring them to the surface; the tiny amount I need to make it subtle, at
least."

   "Plan B, then," the black-haired teen suggested.  "Don't hurt yourself.
We'll do something about the sewers later."

   "What's plan B?" Ivy wondered, part of her wondering what he meant by
'/dealing with the sewers./'

   Harry released their hands in favor of clasping his hands together.

   Everyone shook at the force, and before they could even fight it, they
were all knocked to the ground.  An invisible wave of - /something/ -
blasted them all backwards.  Guns went flying, shields and windows cracked,
if not broke apart, and one or two coughed uncontrollably, their chest
feeling an immense pain.

   Harry stared at James Gordon, whose only shield was the car door.  Had
the window shattered, it would have ripped into his chest.  "Warning shot,
Captain.  Next time, I'll just make you pop from the inside-out." He turned
slightly to Ivy, who still stood tall at his side.  "I don't think /subtle/
is in the plan now."

   Ivy grinned.  "I think I love you."

   Harley whipped her head around to meet Ivy's eyes.  "Red?"

   Her emerald eyes bulged.  "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

   "So you meant it." Harley grinned widely.

   Harry looked over to the pigtailed beauty in the tight bodysuit, who
seemed to be taking the news in stride.  "We'll talk about this later," he
murmured, and got a hesitant nod from Ivy and an excited grin from Harley.
He turned back to the officers, who were just now recovering.

   The light shining from the helicopter was the only thing highlighting
them, and one officer took advantage.

   /BANG!/

   He flinched at the sound.  "Been a long time since I heard one of
those."

   /BANG!  BANG!  BANG!/

   Apparently, that set off the chain reaction, and that one brave, bold
police officer who shot first allowed for his colleagues to unload their
weapons on the target.  Only three or four shot about three rounds each at
the deadly trio, before kneeling back behind an intact shield or a car.

   It would take about a second or two for them to realize that the three
were still standing.  Ivy had one hand on her hip, her opposite side's
elbow on Harry's shoulder.  Harley had chosen to sit down with her legs
crossed, her head resting against his leg.

   Gordon could almost feel his first gray hair appear.  "Who are you? 
What do you want?"

   Ivy's green eyes bored into the Captain's, her expression hard.  "If you
had asked us that in the beginning, it would've been a better foot to get
off on.  You've proved today how truly /stupid/ your police force can be.
How destructive you /want/ to be.  And I know that if I allow this to
continue, this city will fall.  The entire earth will be sure to follow. 
And I /won't/ allow it.

   "Gotham will be the testing grounds for what I have planned, and it will
be /massive/.  Treat Mother Nature with the respect she deserves,
because... well," She smiled slightly, "I believe you've heard the saying.
The world will know how much a bitch I can truly be."

   "You're calling yourself Mother Nature, now?" Sarah scoffed, her gun
trained on the green-skinned woman.

   "I'm calling myself a proxy, Sarah," Ivy purred.  "I cannot control the
waters, the sun, or the wind.  I control the earth.  If anything, I would
be Mother Earth."

   "I suppose I'd be Daddy Nature," Harry chuckled darkly, garnering the
attention of everyone back to him, "because /I can!/ However, that sounds a
bit like I'm Ivy's husband rather than her partner.  I love her and all,"
he winked at her, and she struggled not to react, "just as much as Harley.
But I'd like to be my own persona.  Harley?  What do you think?"

   Harley looked up from her spot, shaken out of her reverie.  "We didn't
talk about this," she narrowed her eyes.  "And we're gonna talk about it
later." There was no doubt of what she meant by that statement.  "But hey,
since we're here, and you've got everyone's attention, why not sprout out a
name before someone else tries to shoot you in the face.  Let's give the
people a name for the grave, y'know?"

   Harry smirked.  "They can try.  Again.  To see if there's any
difference. And there won't be.  Still; they can try.  I won't stop them."

   "Because you're unstoppable," Harley whispered, nuzzling her green
ponytail against his leg.

   "I'm more than unstoppable." His eyes flashed an eerie green, and the
helicopter's spotlight surged, before blowing completely.

   James Gordon squinted into the darkness, barely seeing the outlines of
the colorful characters in front of him.  The helicopter had blocked off
the moon's rays, and they had a very strategically placed blindspot on
them.

   The sparks from the blown spotlight sprinkled to the ground directly
where the trio stood, highlighting their grinning visages for a brief,
sudden moment.

   Then they vanished.

   Three seconds of pure, uninterrupted silence exploded around them, and
it almost hurt, the deafening quiet.  In the darkness, Sarah looked over to
her partner, her face unsure as to what happened.  She had the same thought
on everyone's lips, and he lowered the gun cautiously.

   Before he could give a command, a familiar voice echoed powerfully
through the plaza, its echoes ringing against the cobblestone, mockingly
into their ears.

   "/I'm the Warlock./"

   ------------------------

   Batman watched the pandemonium that erupted, his eyes quickly scanning
the large group for any sign of their whereabouts.  He had been watching
from a balcony, well-hidden from the news chopper above and the police
below.

   He had been watching /closely/.  And he had /no idea/ which direction
they went.

   His jaw set - the new guy was an anomaly.  He had to have been a mutant,
or some kind of meta-human.  That, or he had something that gave him that
power.

   Unlikely.  Zatanna wasn't even this powerful, and she dealt in the dark
arts.  She certainly never lit herself on fire and did a full wardrobe
change without a single utterance of a word or a wave of her hand.  If
there was something that could give her that strength, she not only would
have sensed it, but she would have stolen it long ago.

   He stood from his crouch.  He would have to wait until the chopper flew
away before he could move freely.  The police were willing to believe
anything at this point to make him earn the Public Enemy spot, and if he
was seen leaving, then he would be slandered maliciously, accused of
helping the group escape.  He was already accused of Catwoman's crimes when
she first surfaced, and most still thought that they worked together in
some capacity.

   Normally, he wouldn't care about what the media said, but he wasn't
going to risk being seen if he could, especially if he didn't know where to
start chasing them.

   This...  this new guy.  He was different.  He felt the rumble of the
shockwave as all of the officers were knocked to the ground, and saw the
relaxed look in his eyes.  He wasn't trying.  Not one bit.

   This was a show.  That's all it was.  There was only a statement made,
and his presence set the entirety of Gotham on alert.  It explained why
they waited until the news helicopter was here.

   And he knew Harley and Ivy.  He knew they would tell the young man - The
/Warlock /- about him.

   In hindsight, this blatant display of the new addition to their team
could have been laid out specifically for him, rather than the police
force.

   "Right in one, Bruce."

   He began with a start, struggling to spring into action, but his body
was frozen stiff.  His eyes were his only option of movement, and he
couldn't see him anywhere.  The sound came from above, but /where/?

   "I'm above you.  I dropped off Ivy and Harley, so I could talk to you.
You can relax; I won't kill you.  Not today."

   He growled in response, his lips unmoving.

   "Yes, I'm sure that your pride would much rather have me kill you than
force you to stay like this.  Still, I wanted to warn you to stay away from
me.  Stay away from Ivy.  Stay away from Harley.  I'm not talking to
Batman. I'm talking to the man inside, with no trust for police, and a
vendetta against hardened criminals and sadists.  Leave us alone, and don't
bother to pursue us.  We are not your enemies.  We are enemies of the
police, and you know how unwelcoming they are when someone offers to do
their job for them, and they can't take the credit."

   He had a point.  Even the reasonable side of Batman could see that. 
Though the methods were questionable.

   "I don't beat people to a pulp when I think someone is doing something
wrong.  I have a set of moral codes.  I hate rapists, and I'll stop them
when I can.  Better yet, I can completely cover the city in anti-rape
protections.  The moment a woman is attacked, he'll find himself bound and
gagged.  Wouldn't that be an unpleasant surprise?"

   He paused.  Bruce was thankful for the reprieve.  His muscles were still
completely non-responsive, though he had gone through several mental
calming techniques.  He had almost phased the man's voice out completely,
but before he could, his words got louder.

   No, not louder.  More direct.  And no mental technique could block it.
It was so clear, even with his hearing.  Too clear.

   He was speaking directly into his mind.

   And the Batman felt something akin to fear.

   "Ignoring me isn't helping you.  Not one bit.  So I'll allow you to
consider my words.  Look away.  Or fight me.  Who knows?  Maybe I'll learn
something.  Maybe you'll learn something.  Should be fun.  I actually kind
of look forward to it.

   "But for now, I think I'll just keep you like this.  Alfred can pick you
up later."

   A soft white glow marred his periphery, barely above his head.  He paid
it no mind.

   '/Alfred./'

   '/Right in one, Bruce./'

   A small pop sounded above him.  And the Dark Knight was left alone.  His
eyelids shut, then opened again in surprise.

   His bodily functions were slowly returning.

   After thirty minutes, however, he realized that the man had done that on
purpose; he allowed him to close his eyes so they wouldn't suffer
throughout the night.

   As the crowd below had dispersed, and the copter flown away half an hour
ago to search for the missing criminals, Batman hoped that Alfred would not
notice that he was in trouble yet.  He could force himself to make his
heart beat irregularly, and set off alarms with his vitals, but something
told him that he couldn't stop himself from tracking down this new punk the
moment he was free.

   And, right now, he needed to think.  Really, truly think about what to
do next.  Because he knew what he was considering now was certainly not the
answer.

   The Batman's city began to crumble around him.

   ------------------------

   The white cloud of silvery strands swirled in the glass vial.  Harleen,
plopping herself in Harry's lap on their couch, eyed the vial with
interest.

   "So, /Warlock/, you're trying to tell me," she began, clearly skeptical,
"that a human being's entire memory base can be contained in this small
vial."

   Harry nodded.  "Everything he's ever had a clear memory of in a
nutshell; or rather, in a vial."

   Harleen glanced back at Harry, then back at the vial.  "/Cool/."

   "So we'll know who he is from this," the green-skinned beauty dropped
the load of clothes beside them and sat on the arm of the couch, crossing
her legs as she leaned over to get a better look.  "How would we view
them?"

   "Could we see them?" Harleen worriedly wondered.  "We don't have magic,
after all."

   Harry nodded, resting his head on the soft cotton behind him and closing
his eyes.  "I'm not sure.  I don't think so.  I'd need a pensieve to show
you anything.  I'd have to look...in the morning."

   "Hey," Harleen's eyes looked upon him with concern, "you okay?"

   Harry opened his eyes.  "Physically?  I'm fine.  I just have a bit of a
headache.  No worries."

   "When did it start?" Ivy questioned.

   Harry shrugged, his eyes still closed.  "If it was there before, I'm
just feeling it now.  Hit me like a bloody truck..."

   Harleen quickly removed herself from his lap and removed her gloves. 
Gently, she pressed her hand to his forehead.  "It's not warm," she said a
moment later, and looked at Red, who had gotten up from the couch.  "Got
anything for headaches?"

   "Where does it hurt?" She asked him, double-checking his forehead.

   Harry felt a twinge.  Right where...  "Shit.  Not there again."

   "Where?" Harley wondered with growing alarm.  "Your temples?"

   "No," Harry hissed, "not there.  Where my scar used to be.  She's pissed
right now."

   "Who?" Ivy wondered, completely befuddled, not sure if she should be
alarmed for his health or worried for his sanity.

   "Hermione," Harry groaned.  "And she's /really/ pissed right now."

   Harley felt a twinge of remembrance at the Shakespearian name, and her
eyes widened.  "Hold on," she told them both, and sped out of the living
room, through the kitchen, and down the hallway.

   Harry hissed, and Pamela gasped in surprise as a light-bluish glow
erupted from the right side of his forehead.  Pale at first, then brighter
and brighter - a distinct symbol lit his skin, almost like a lightning
bolt...

   Harley sprinted back in the room and froze in shock at the unexpected
sight before her.

   Harry grabbed at his head and grit his teeth in pain, struggling to
force the pain out of his head.  Had he any sense, he would have laughed at
the impossible thought.

   But all he could see was pain.

   "Hermione, /STOP!/" He screamed, his body hunching over and falling into
his new clothes.

   And then, it stopped.  He wasn't expecting that, and he sat up in
surprise and opened his eyes.

   A pointed, dark green vine hovered over him, swaying melodiously, like a
snake poised to strike.

   Pamela breathed a sigh of relief, several feet behind the vine.  "I
thought I was going to have to hold you down," she brokenly whispered, and
the vine retreated.  "What the hell happened?"

   "Oh!" Harley squeaked at the sensation, and hastily pulled out a small
circular mirror out of her pocket.  "It just...  bit me!  A /mirror/ just
bit me!"

   Harry grinned tiredly.  "It does that to people who aren't me.  It'll do
more than bite if you don't answer."

   The natural blonde quickly sat next to him and passed him the mirror,
and pressed her hand to his forehead again.  "Don't - !"

   "Ah!  Dammit!"

   "Sorry," Harry muttered, wincing.  "It does that.  Curls my fringe up
sometimes with the heat." He reached for Harley's hand, and she gingerly
placed it in his.

   "I think we need to start carrying a first aid kit," Harley muttered
embarrassingly.

   Ivy watched as Harley's pained look softened as Harry rubbed his thumb
in circles at the back of her hand, magically soothing the pain.  "I think
we've already got one.  I'll go get a towel." She strolled out of the room
towards the kitchen.

   "I'd make a sexual innuendo about you having magic hands, but I'm sure
you get that a lot." The girl in pigtails relaxed in his embrace, resting
her head against the back of the sofa.

   Harry purposefully looked at the screen, refraining to tell her that he
had heard them all, and he would need to thank her later for not making him
hear it one more time.

   He took a few shallow breaths.

   "Answer," he murmured, and he immediately held the glass at arm's
length.

   "/Shit!/ Are you okay, Harry?"

   He flinched.  "What do you mean?"

   "I can see your sweat!  Your bloody scar's visible again!  I'm sorry,
Harry, I really am!"

   Harry flinched again, for a different reason.  "Wait - so you're not mad
at me?"

   "What?  NO - of /course/ not, Harry!  You tried to save Sirius!  How
were you supposed to know that you'd be sent to wherever the hell you are?
It's no one's fault but Bellatrix's, and she's been dealt with."

   "If you see a woman wrapped in unicorn hair and a frayed unicorn tail,"
Luna sounded out of view, "then it's probably Bellatrix.  Make sure it's
her, though."

   "We'll find you, Harry.  Don't worry."

   Harry brought the mirror closer, and inspected the girl in the
reflection.  "Hermione?"

   "Yes, Harry?"

   "If you're not angry at me, why the /hell/ did my head almost explode
less than a minute ago?"

   "I...  may have an explanation for that."

   "Whenever you're ready."

   "There's no need for sarcasm, Harry.  Honestly..."

   "Ummm..." Harley interrupted, and it was disconcerting to see two
different faces turn to her like a normal mirror could do.  "S-sorry, it's
just that...  what the fuck just happened?"

   "I second that," Pamela said as she sat back on the arm of the couch,
gently placing a wet, cold washcloth on his forehead, and he smiled weakly
in appreciation.  "I think we deserve an explanation; Harley was almost in
/tears/."

   Harley quickly wiped at her eyes, and glared at Ivy's smirk when she
realized she was messing with the young girl.  "I was worried, alright! 
And I had no idea what the hell was going on!  I still don't!"

   Hermione bit on her bottom lip, and Harry took notice.  "Spill,
Hermione. What just happened?"

   The curly-haired brunette sighed to herself.  "Okay.  So, Ronald was
just getting out of the hospital wing, and he made a pass at me, while in
the same breath, insulting you and called everyone in our mutual group your
/whores/..."

   Harry's eyes hardened.  "/What?/"

   Hermione winced.  "The headache is coming my way.  Please calm down,
Harry."

   The glass cracked in Harry's fingers.  He dropped the mirror to the
floor.  "Shit.  Sorry, Hermione."

   "I deserve it.  I must've given you a massive headache for you to sweat
like that.  Sorry."

   He picked up the mirror and tapped it, and the mirror was as good as
new. "So what did you do?"

   Her chocolate brown eyes searched his emerald green.  "Promise you won't
be mad?"

   "I can't promise anything if you hadn't beaten him within an inch of his
life."

   "Then you'll be positively ecstatic, then," Luna cheered, her cheek
pressing against Hermione.  "Ronald is dead now, Harry!"

   "/Luna?!/"

   "What?" She asked innocently.  b"I'm just cheering him up.  He looks
like he needs it."

   "Harry, don't listen to Luna.  Ronald is /not/ dead."

   "Not bloody yet," Harry growled.  "But he /will/ be."

   "See?" Harley whispered to her girlfriend.  "Just /like/ Bats, but
better!  And /British/!  Isn't that insane?"

   "That still doesn't explain how he knows what you're feeling," Ivy
deliberately ignored Harley.  Lately, she's been agreeing with everything
Harley said, and she just knew something bad was going to come out of it if
she encouraged it.  "Is it some kind of magic thing?  Does everyone have
this?"

   "Maybe they're soul mates?" Harley suggested, with a sickeningly sweet
smile.

   Harry looked pointedly at Hermione.  "Would you call it that?"

   "I'd definitely call it a soul bond.  I wouldn't call you and Voldemort
soul mates."

   They both shuddered at the thought.

   "So, that exists?  You two can literally feel what the other feels?"
Harley looked excited at the prospect.  "So you two are literally in a bond
of true, unbreakable love?"

   Harry and Hermione shrugged synchronously, and it was, once again,
disturbing.  "I'd like to think it's unbreakable," Harry grinned, "but the
bond has nothing to do with that.  Though it may be part of the reason it
was made.  We can certainly feel what the other's feeling.  Sometimes, we
can communicate with thoughts."

   "And that's how I got Harry's distress," Hermione explained.  "When I
heard him to tell me to stop."

   "Though, it may be turning /into/ a real soul bond," Luna placed her
input.  "You'd have to ask grandma Joan about bonds, but most bonds are
weakened when one leaves the /country/."

   Harley snapped her fingers.  "So /that's/ why you said she could somehow
tell that you were still alive!  But how come you haven't talked to him
since he got here?"

   "I couldn't.  I could feel that he was alive and well, but I couldn't do
much else.  He had left his communication mirror at home.  And then he
blocks my bloody calls..."

   "I didn't think you'd react well to the news," Harry protested weakly.

   "To the news?  Yes.  To you?  Of course not.  Tonks and Susan stopped me
from running into the bloody veil myself when I saw what you did."

   "That's so sweet," Harleen sighed.  "If I knew what a veil was, I'm sure
I'd be impressed."

   Pamela beautifully arched an eyebrow at Harleen, smiling at the girl's
fascination.  She was somewhat interested as well, being in the field of
science herself, and listening to how everything she had ever learned about
space and time being proven wrong was quite thrilling.  She knew Crane
would love to hear this.

   And besides, if it kept them from talking about their confessions
earlier that night, then she was completely okay with any distraction.

   She needed to think.  She really didn't know what about, but she knew
that she needed to.

   "A veil," Hermione began explaining, "is the portal Harry walked through
to land in your world.  It's the gateway to another dimension, apparently,
when everyone else called it the Death Arch.  We don't know if Harry's the
rule or exception.  Sirius...  so far, he hasn't contacted us, and he has
no way of getting in contact with us.  He could be alive, and doing well,
but I don't think we will find out anytime soon."

   "Sirius?" Harley asked.

   "My Godfather," Harry explained.  "He was hit by a spell, and fell into
the veil.  I followed him, and here I am."

   Harley absorbed that information.  If it wasn't for some freak accident,
Harry would have never entered her life.  "/When/ you find him...  I want
to thank him myself." She squeezed Harry's hand.

   "You've found another keeper," Hermione smiled in the mirror.  "Luna
told me I'd like her."

   "Which reminds me...  Luna?"

   Wide, silvery eyes moved into the frame.  "Yes, Harry?"

   "How does Hermione know that I'm in another dimension?"

   "Oh; she asked me about it."

   "And why didn't you tell her I was in America?"

   "I did.  She didn't believe me.  Then she threatened to go to States
herself and start searching the whole country.  Naturally, I admitted that
I lied.  Then she started making worst-case scenarios.  She also suggested
time-travel.  I Saw that, by the way.  Twenty-one years?"

   Harry sighed.  There was no fooling Hermione - ever.  "Yes, Luna.  I'm
in Nineteen seventy-four.  Technically, it doesn't affect me at all,
especially since we've already established that this is a completely
different world, and not purely time travel.  If anything, I've got a shot
to take out Voldemort here, if he's here, and if there's a James and Lily
in this world, they get to live a full life together."

   Hermione looked worried.  "Just don't be rash about it.  We have to plan
this accordingly - /if/ he exists there."

   "At least he's dead here, now." Everyone turned to Luna.  "Temporarily,
at least.  I didn't think you wanted to hear about that."

   "Luna..." Hermione started worriedly, "...what did you See?"

   The wispy blonde wrinkled her nose.  "A dead body shaped like Voldemort.
More specifically, his corpse lying in a bed in a locked chamber.  Not a
very pleasant sight, but that can't be helped."

   Hermione furrowed her brows.  "When did you See that, Luna?"

   "I Saw it earlier today, before we sent Bellatrix through the veil.  I
informed her of her master's death, and she seemed fairly confident that I
was lying.  Then she bragged about the Horcrux in her possession.  I
correctly assumed it was her vault.  The look of defeat on her face was
quite hilarious.  I didn't want to tell you guys until the goblins send
back confirmation."

   "We found a Horcrux?" Harry seemed ecstatic at the news.  "Great, Luna!"

   "I take it that the word 'Horcrux' means something more than just a
hilarious word," Harleen queried.  "Sorry.  It's just...  muggle here. 
Clueless and therefore, useless."

   "Don't use that word," Harry frowned.  "And you're very useful. 
Horcruxes are pieces of soul, born by death.  Kill someone with no remorse,
and it transfers half your soul into the object of your choosing."

   "With a spell," Hermione added.  "And I never discovered that spell, nor
have I ever felt a need to find out.  The only way to reverse it is for
either the killer to feel true remorse, or to destroy the object the
Horcrux is in."

   Luna giggled.  "That is a funny name, actually.  Haven't thought much
about it."

   Hermione shook her head, a smile gracing her lips.  "So far, we've found
four.  We're not sure how many he made, but we're assuming six or seven. 
He was a bit superstitious, and seven is a very powerful number in rituals
of all sorts."

   "Okay," Harley nodded, thoroughly interested.  "So how did he die?"

   Luna shrugged.  "If I could guess, it probably has something to do with
the Horcrux inside Harry."

   Pamela and Harleen's heads twisted sharply at the green-eyed wizard. 
"/What?/"

   Harry sighed.  "Luna, you know we got rid of that Horcrux.  It's gone."

   Luna shook her head.  "It's the only way to explain why Voldemort is
dead right now, so conveniently close to you going through the veil.  This
is the first time we've destroyed a Horcrux while he's technically alive -
maybe that's a regular reaction."

   "The proof is in the scar, Harry," the brunette whispered, looking at
the crimson mark carved into his forehead.  "I think it's been buried all
this time.  It's gone now.  It's truly gone."

   The green/redhead removed her glare from the Boy-Who-Lived and focused
on the brunette, her expression considerably softer.  "So when you told us
that you wouldn't call Harry and Voldemort soul mates..."

   The brightest witch of the ages nodded.  "Yes.  They were soul bonded,
but it's a bit different.  Voldemort wasn't aware of it.  It was the
instability of the last vestiges of his soul when he tried to kill Harry.
An accidental Horcrux.  Harry got that scar that night.  Voldemort had so
many different pieces of him out there, he couldn't sense them anymore,
he'd be almost devoid of any feeling."

   Harry lifted the soaked cloth from his forehead, and gingerly poked at
the thin, jagged shape burned into his skin.  "I'm not feeling anything
from it.  Why did it happen now?  Why not when I went through the veil?"

   "Maybe it did?" Harley suggested.  All eyes were on her.  "Maybe the
horcrux disappeared when you went through the portal.  I mean, that veil.
The /veil of death/ you called it.  It sounds like it's a device that no
one understands, and it has rules that are plainly impossible to
comprehend. But maybe it saw that Harry had more than one soul, and took
that one instead."

   "That..." Hermione looked perplexed.  "I don't think that's possible. 
Is it?"

   Luna shrugged.  "Maybe; we don't have any other theories."

   Harry was silent for a moment.  "So that would mean that Sirius is
dead," he intoned monotonously.  Harley squeezed his hand, and looked
towards the girls in the mirror with concern.

   Luna vehemently shook her head.  "Not necessarily.  He could have been
sent to another universe like you did.  And Voldemort's soul could have
just been sent somewhere else, since his body didn't travel with him."

   "So..." Harry rubbed at his chin.  "Why are you still there, Hermione?"

   "I don't know, Harry.  I'd hazard a guess that our souls are more
connected than Voldemort's was to yours, so it was loose bait."

   Harry shrugged.  "At this point, I'll take that answer.  It's better
than the alternative."

   "Wait," Harley said, putting the pieces together.  "So you mean that...
you're telling me that you guys are each other's /Horcruxes?/"

   Harry grinned sheepishly, while Hermione looked away in embarrassment.
"Not exactly," he tried to explain, "but pretty close.  It did involve the
same...  process."

   Pamela sighed.  "I'm going to go fix some coffee.  I don't think we're
going to sleep for a while." She slinked out of the arm of the chair, and
walked past them to the kitchen.

   Harry, Harleen, Hermione and Luna all watched her walk away, mesmerized
at the gentle sway of her hips framed by her leafy skirt.  "Sweet Merlin,"
Hermione whispered.

   "That's my Ivy," Harleen whispered with a wistful smile.  "Most
beautiful girl in the world.  Spend a day with her, and you can't help but
fall in love." She winked at Harry.  "Or less."

   Harry chuckled, his arm wrapping around Harley's shoulders.  "I can't be
blamed.  Nor can I be blamed for falling for her /equally/ beautiful
girlfriend."

   "I've only met you for a few minutes," Hermione commented, "and I'm
rather shocked that Harry met you two by chance.  Granted, the make-up
seems rather excessive, but I certainly wouldn't kick you out of bed."

   The girl smiled at the, admittedly, stunningly beautiful brunette. 
"Thank you for the compliment.  I wouldn't rush to leave the bed.  Though,
I don't think Ivy would respond well to it."

   "She's watching from the chair, with my head between her knees," Luna
said matter-of-factly.  "Though I don't know if I Saw that, or if it was my
admittedly active imagination.  Though I also see a very pretty pet kitty
that I've never met."

   "You mean Juliet?" Harley questioned, her eyes bright.  "You can really
see her?"

   "If that's her name, yes.  She's...  flexible."

   "Juliet?" Harry asked, before Harleen could inquire further.

   "Mm-hmm," she answered him, "One of my pets.  You'd get along great with
her."

   "You mean the one that you've trained to, uh, hit me where I'm weak."

   Harley shook her head.  "Nah.  I've never tried to train her to do that.
I've threatened it, and she plays the threatening role well, and that's
intimidation enough."

   Luna chose not to comment.  Considering it was obvious they were talking
about an animal, and while the girl in her vision was an excellent animal
impersonator, she was most decidedly /not/ a cat.

   Though, Luna admitted, from what she had seen, she definitely knew how
to attack Harry's weak spot with vigour.

   Harley reached up to hold the hand resting on her shoulder, and pulled
it down to rest on the middle of her lycra-covered chest.  "Pammy doesn't
know what to think of this.  She doesn't know how she feels.  Let her think
about it, and she'll come around."

   "What do /you/ think about it?" he asked her seriously.

   She gave a heavy sigh.  "I love Red, and I can't imagine a world without
her.  I can't imagine my /life/ without her.  We started our partnership on
a purely sexual relationship, but we were open to see where it would go
from there.  I told her I loved her six days after I ran away with her. 
And I thought it was too soon." Her eyes focused on his.  "I love you,
Harry.  And she does, too.  If you truly meant what you said when we were
out there, then I don't want you to think that you've said it too early,
because I feel the same.  I've seen too many relationships break apart
because they don't know how the other feels, and they're stepping on
eggshells."

   Harry let out an uneasy breath, not even sure if he was holding it in or
not.  "I meant every word.  I wasn't going for a one-night stand with a
girl who had just broken up with her girlfriend.  I wanted to steal you.  I
wanted you for myself, from a woman who I thought was taking you for
granted.  When I found out why she reacted the way she did, I felt... 
pretty bloody terrible.  So I wanted to make it up to her." Harry grinned.
"And you were right.  It takes less than a day.  I'm surprised it took you
a week."

   "It didn't," she smiled fondly.  "I was in love the moment I made the
decision to run away with her.  I decided then that I would do whatever I
could to win her over."

   "Did she think it was too soon?" Harry wondered.

   Her eyes shined at the happy memory.  "I'll never forget her words. 
'/About damn time/,' she told me.  '/I was beginning to think you were
straight.'/"

   Harry laughed.  "Like that would stop any woman."

   She rested her head on his chest, mindful of her pigtail, her hands
clasped with his.  "So we'll enjoy this; cherish it.  So when you go back
to Hermione, and Luna, and your family, there are no regrets."

   Hermione spoke up from the mirror.  "Harry?"

   "I have faith in you, Hermione.  You know what they say about soul
mates. Even if you wanted to get rid of me, you couldn't.  If you can't get
to me, I'll get back to you," he whispered solemnly.  "To all of you.  Even
if I have to try apparating there myself."

   He said it with such conviction; he almost convinced himself that it was
a fact.  Hermione and Luna smiled at his words, and Harry gave a slight
grin.  "You're right, Harry," Luna murmured.  "We'll find a way.  If what I
Saw was a real vision, then we had to have found some way."

   "We're not going anywhere, Harry," Hermione smiled at her boyfriend,
"And we'll find a way.  Bonded or not, you're not getting rid of me, Harry
James Potter."

   Harleen watched Hermione's eyes - the look of a strong, fierce woman who
would do anything to get hers.  "All I ask," the natural blonde whispered,
feeling the eyes move to her, "is that when your vacation is over, that you
remembered the two pretty girls that kept your stay here bearable."

   The two girls felt shame at the implications of their words; making sure
that Harry got to their world, away from Gotham, away from the sweet girl
that seemed to attach herself to the boy they love.

   "We made a statement tonight, in Gotham, Harley," Harry spoke clearly,
his hand squeezing hers.  "What was it?"

   "That you're here," Harley said with uncertainty, almost as a question.

   "I made three promises in that statement.  I am here, yes, and together,
we can make whatever change you want in Gotham to happen.  The outline of
that can be hammered out whenever we see fit; we have the time.  My second
promise was that I'm here to stay.  When Hermione and Luna figure out how
the hell I got here, it wouldn't take much more to figure out how to travel
in-between.  My third promise was to you and Ivy." He held her tighter to
himself, and she cherished his embrace.  "I'm here to stay for a reason. 
When I said I loved you two.  That wasn't a statement.  That was a
/promise/; a hopeful promise.  That this relationship might grow."

   Harley's white teeth glimmered in her smile as she wiped her wet eyes.
"I hope it grows, too," she whispered.

   The four sat in companionable silence, Harley and Harry getting comfort
from each other, Hermione and Luna contemplating the character that is
Harleen Frances Quinzel, and how in such a short time, she had fallen
completely and utterly in love with Harry James Potter.  And how she didn't
even know it yet.

   "You know what this means, right?" the green/redhead asked him as she
tangled their fingers together below her chin.

   "Hm?"

   "If you break our earts, we'll kill you."

   "If I break your hearts, it'd be because I'm already dead."

   Harley quirked an eyebrow, her lips curled.  "You used that line before,
didn't you?"

   "Only once; with Hermione's father.  After he showed me his gun
collection."

   "He did that?" Hermione asked, mortified.  "I'm going to...  wait.  He
has a /gun/ collection?"

   Harry shook his head.  "He did.  For a week.  Borrowed them from a
friend, just so he could use it on me.  It all fell apart when I was
expressing interest in the types of guns, and I ended up knowing more than
he did.  It was kind of a bonding moment when I started teaching him about
it."

   "And he wasn't worried about how his dear daughter was with a boy who
had an affinity for guns?"

   "Antiques, mostly," Harry defended himself, "And no.  Man's got to
protect his own, y'know."

   Hermione scoffed.  "We've saved each other's arses so many times over
the years, Potter.  I'm hardly a damsel."

   "His words, not mine.  Wasn't going to point out that by then, we've
been saving each other and the girls to a point where it's almost become a
business."

   "Potter's Protection, Incorporated?" Harley quipped, and the two
laughed.

   "I like it," Luna commented from the side.  "We'd have to get that
copyrighted."

   Hermione blushed.  "It sounds more like a company that sells condoms, to
be honest!"

   Pamela sauntered into a room with a large pot of coffee and tea, and
found everyone in a considerably better mood.  "Did I miss something?" She
questioned the room with amusement on her features.

   Harry shook his head.  "No, not really.  We're just about to get
started, actually." He threw the mirror out in front of him, and Harley and
Ivy watched in fascination as it glimmered and shimmered brightly, before
landing straight on its edge, as wide and tall as the maroon sofa he and
Harley were sitting on.  For a glimmer, Hermione and Luna's faces were the
size of Pamela's entire body, before Hermione made a sudden movement with
her mirror.  In a flash, the three saw the entire view of Hermione and Luna
sitting together on the loveseat in what Harry knew was the Gryffindor
Common Room.

   "Luna?  What time is it?"

   Luna checked her watch.  "It's three-fifteen."

   "It's about midnight here," Harleen informed them.

   "Good.  More than four hours until classes ends.  Plenty of time.  Where
should we begin?"

   "The costumes would be a nice conversation starter."

   "Luna!" Hermione looked scandalized.  "Don't insult someone's customs!
We don't know how their world works!"

   "It's not their custom," she explained smoothly.  They're national
criminals, and that's their disguises."

   "I..." now Hermione looked mortified.  She blushed heavily.  "I-I'm
sorry, I just assumed..."

   "You've never met anyone from our world," Pamela waved her off.  "You'd
have no idea what we are.  When Harry saw that we were criminals, and
Harley mentioned that she went to school, he assumed that she went to a
school for criminals."

   "Not my brightest moment," Harry muttered, scratching the back of his
head with his free hand, and the girls giggled.  Ivy took the time to lay
out the mugs of coffee the vine followed her with and set the coffee next
to them on the arm of the sofa.

   "Well, it explains their outfits," Hermione spoke, "but what about you,
Harry?"

   Harry looked down at his slashed-through crimson shirt and black cotton
jeans.  "Something I thought up while we were out.  It's not permanent, but
it'll give me a unique look for a while."

   "And you're okay with the idea of him being a criminal?"

   "In our world, Harry's a hero.  And so far, he doesn't get a lick of
respect from the public, or the Ministry.  If Voldemort truly is dead, then
nothing can stand in our way of our takeover of Britain.  We're criminals
in our own right - in sheep's wool."

   Luna smiled at Hermione's words.  "It's quite a stark contrast to
wearing a costume and making declarations of war with a city."

   "I like the costumes," Harley pouted.  "They're flashy, and people view
you with fear.  Jesters will be more feared by children than mimes, or even
clowns." Her free hand rubbed up and down his long sleeve.  "And I like
this look, even though I didn't get to design it.  It's got just the right
amount of /spandex/."

   Ivy boldly stepped forward and pressed her hand to the material, her
fingers skimming against his side, and Harry tensed lightly.  "Smooth," she
whispered, and winked.

   "Somebody's done a little soul-searching in the kitchen," Harleen
grinned.

   Ivy shrugged, before patting his firm abdomen.  "I started thinking
about it as I practically felt everyone's eyes on my ass.  Then I thought
about how Harley and I confessed to each other.  Never waste a moment,
right?"

   Harleen's smile met Ivy's.  "Not a single second, baby."

   Ivy squeezed into Harry's other side on the couch, mindful of the tray
of coffee- and teapots and mugs on her other side.  "So, I guess I'm part
of your group.  I'd say that it was more for Harleen's benefit, but to
quote her when she decided to run off with me - '/Call me curious./'"

   "We'd hope so," Hermione started, before conjuring a glass. 
"/Aguamenti/," she muttered, and the glass filled on its own.  "We've got a
bit to talk about.  Normally, we're not supposed to tell you anything about
us, but it's safe to say that you're outside the Ministry's reach.  So,
where should we begin?"

   "How about from the beginning?" Ivy suggested, before pouring herself a
cup of tea and leaning against Harry's side.  "With details?"

   Harry settled into his seat between the two beautiful girls, and they
both snuggled closer.  Hermione and Luna did the same, the blonde's head
resting against the brunette's shoulder while they wrapped their arms
around each other.

   And then the epic tale regarding the life of Harry James Potter began.

   -------------------------------------------------

   Chapter 6: The Choices We Make

   "Excuse me."

   Harry, far too engrossed in his book, jumped a little in his chair, and
looked towards his intruder, who had stepped back in response.  "Oh. 
Sorry. Hello."

   "Hi," she said meekly.  "I'm terribly sorry for intruding, but I just
wanted to ask you if you were done with any of those?"

   Harry looked over at the pile of books in front of him, stacked neatly
by the category he found them.  He flushed.  "Sorry," he muttered
embarrassingly, "I didn't know the pile had gotten that high."

   "It happens to us all," she smiled.  "Well, /me/.  And you, I suppose.
Do you really read all of them?"

   Harry nodded.  "Usually by the end of the day."

   "Really?" She looked interested.  "All of that?  Those are some rather
thick volumes."

   "Eidetic memory," he informed her curtly, knowing that it was a
believable, somewhat, stock story in comparison to him telling people about
his powers.  He had read more than one novel about a protagonist who runs
for their lives after revealing their unknown powers.

   He was /not/ going to be probed.

   The girl's eyes brightened.  "You do?  That's a real thing?  I've read
that there isn't a proven case of that yet."

   Harry nodded with interest.  He hadn't dealt with someone who actually
knew what eidetic memory was.  They'd assume it was relating to
photographic memory, and leave him be.  "That's the only rational
explanation I have for why I can flip through pages and know every word."

   "Oh," she gasped in understanding, "so you weren't just scanning the
pages?" Harry could tell she was genuinely curious; not mocking him, as
someone would usually do when they see a small boy flipping through a
Dickens novel.

   "No, I've been reading.  It's been a while since I've gone to the
library, and..." his eyes glanced over the stacks.  "I picked up whatever's
new to me.  I tend to get the bigger books out of the way." He looked over
to the girl.  "I haven't checked any out; they're here to take if you want
to read one."

   "Oh, no," she shook her head.  "Miss Bryan just wanted me to ask you to
put up the books.  I'll tell her that you're still reading."

   "I'll put them back in the right place," Harry promised, and she nodded
gratefully, before turning and walking away, down the fiction aisle.

   He went back to his book.

   He had barely gotten two pages when a small tap distracted him, and he
looked up once more to see her apologetic brown eyes.  "Let me guess," he
said dryly, "she wants me to put up the books right /now/?"

   "It's policy," she muttered defensively, "and we can't have everyone
taking all the books they want for themselves and make a fort out of them.
Two books at a time."

   Harry sighed.  "That seems reasonable, I guess." He eyed her carefully.
"So, are you the librarian's daughter or something?"

   She shook her head.  "I wait here after school for my parents to pick me
up from work.  Miss Bryan looks after me."

   "So, you wouldn't object to helping me put up the books?"

   Again, she shook her head in the negative.  "Sorry, but she doesn't want
me to help you.  She wants me to make sure you put them all in the right
place."

   Harry raised an eyebrow.  "A bit demanding, isn't she?"

   "She's teaching you a lesson," she defended, with a touch of anger. 
"You /did/ break the rules."

   "I broke protocol and regulation, not the rules.  I've read the pamphlet
when I came in here, and it said nothing about the amount of books I can
remove from the shelf at the same time."

   That gave her pause.  "It doesn't?  Are you sure?"

   "I trust my memory."

   She looked lost for a moment.  "Are you sure?" she asked him again.

   Harry sighed.  "If you can find it in the rulebook for this library,
then I'll return all the books; I promise."

   "B-but it's a courtesy!"

   "You are the librarian's assistant - it's also a courtesy to help others
when they ask for it."

   She shook her head defiantly, her bushy brown hair swishing against her
shoulders.  "The librarian's word is /final/.  Rules or not, she enforces
them."

   "Exactly." Harry's eyes went back to his book.  "Not you."

   The little girl stared at him, incredulous at his blatant disregard of
her presence and the rules set before him, before she huffed and stalked
away.

   When the brown-haired girl returned, the librarian keeping up with the
little girl's pace, he was gone.

   ------------------------

   *~Post-Veil~*

   "Are you still mad at me for that?" Harry asked, amused.

   "I'm more embarrassed," the brilliant brunette muttered, hiding her face
in Luna's hair, and the airy blonde giggled as her friend's breath tickled
her neck.  She embarrassingly fell out of her grip into the other cushion,
and Hermione laughed at the sudden movement.  She turned back to the mirror
in front of her.  "Not a good first impression I've made."

   Harry chuckled; his thumb rolling over Harleen's gloved knuckles. 
"Still, it was a good precursor for things to come; giving you headaches
since the very day I met you."

   Hermione gave an unladylike snort.  "Harry, of all the things you give
me on a basis, a headache doesn't come to mind."

   "Ironic," Luna pointed out as she lay against the cushion, "considering
when you get a headache, nothing else comes to mind /except/ for the
headache."

   "You didn't give me that much of a headache, really," Hermione admitted.
"You returned the books to the shelves, at least." She sent him a grateful
smile, her straight white teeth gleaming.  Harry returned the smile.

   "So, that's when you two first met?" Harleen asked with interest.  "How
old were you?"

   "I was nine at the time," Harry told his lovers, "And Hermione had
recently turned ten.  About two years from that day, we'd both get an
invitation to the same school.  Had we left things like that, we probably
wouldn't have even been friends for a long time."

   "I probably would've been dead," Hermione noted.  "Considering the
mountain troll that was going to kill me."

   Pamela and Harleen held their breaths.

   "Sorry," the brunette muttered, "I'm jumping ahead.  That doesn't happen
for a bit.  But at least it'll keep you interested."

   "We already were," Pamela assured her, amusement in her tone, "but I
wouldn't mind sticking around for the troll story."

   "I'd rather not," Hermione said quickly.  "It was a rather sad moment;
he died, you see.  You only need to know what happened afterwards.  And, I
suppose the build-up to it.  Had everything before not happened, it might
have just been an isolated incident - a crazy circumstance with no
meaning."

   Harley cocked her head to the side, resting on Harry's elbow wrapped
around her shoulders.  "Everything before?  You mean the development of
your friendship?"

   The brown-eyed girl crossed her denim-clad legs and leaned against the
arm of the Gryffindor Red sofa.  "Even by then, it was so much more.  But
we had to get over a hump, first...."

   ------------------------

   *~Pre-Veil~*

   "Excuse me, but..." she gasped.  "/You/!"

   Harry winced and lowered his book.  He knew this library looked
familiar; he never bothered reading the names of them.  "Oh...  hello,
again.  How have you been?" he began uneasily.

   "Where did you go?" She scowled at him.

   "I was hiding in the nonfiction section.  This whole time."

   She narrowed her eyes.  "For eight weeks?"

   "Fine, then; the religion section.  I was trying to find sanctuary, so I
wouldn't be yelled at."

   She was aware that he was joking, so she refrained from spouting that
they didn't /have/ a religious section.  "Every book was in its right place
on the shelves, and I was gone for half-a-minute at the most.  How did you
do that?" He wasn't sure if she was angry because he had escaped her
clutches, or because she couldn't figure out /how/ he did it.

   "You scare me that much," he said dryly.  Seeing as she wasn't in a
laughing mood, he decided to give her a serious, never-the-less, false
excuse.  "My memory helped me out.  I remember where every book goes, and I
just went back through the shelves, putting them back."

   "That giant pile?  In less than a minute?"

   Harry nodded.  "It's not like you're gonna believe anything else."

   She silently conceded to his point.  She slumped as the fight left her,
and gave a tired sigh.  "At least you don't have a pile of books around you
anymore," she noted with a hint of relief.

   Harry again nodded.  "In case I run into people like you."

   She crossed her arms.  "It's not right.  In the library, you don't hog
all of the books to yourself.  You just /don't/."

   The green-eyed boy shrugged.  "Alright."

   She stood awkwardly.  "Alright?"

   "Alright; I won't do it again.  So, will we have any trouble from here
on out?"

   "I never wanted any trouble."

   "I was never looking for it.  But I'm willing to forget about it if you
are."

   She looked hesitant.  "This isn't how I imagined this meeting would go."

   "Build-up of anticipation for eight weeks does that for you," he teased,
and she blushed prettily.  "Harry," he grinned, and held out his hand.

   She reached for it with a small smile, her overbite complimenting her
smile, in his eyes.  "Hermione."

   ------------------------

   "What school do you go to?"

   "Were you looking for me at yours?" He wondered, his book forgotten. 
That happened a lot recently.

   "Of course not," she huffed indignantly, her cheeks pink.  "I haven't
seen you in uniform."

   Harry was aware of the hideous green school uniform, and had once
considered copying the boy's version, but ultimately decided that he could
never do that.  Even he had standards.  "I don't go to school."

   "You're homeschooled, then?" she reasoned logically.

   "I wouldn't call it that."

   "What do you mean?"

   Harry shook his head.  "Nothing.  I've just been moving around a lot."

   "And that affects your homeschooling?"

   "Not really.  I just don't live anywhere."

   She gasped.  "/Really/?"

   Harry put a finger to his lips.  "We're in a library, you know."

   "How do you not have a home?" she whispered urgently, her eyes showing a
sense of alarm, and it could have been a trick of the light, but she looked
sad at the prospect.

   The boy shrugged.  "Wasn't really my choice.  My relatives...  hinted
that they prefer me as far away as possible.  I didn't argue."

   "For how long?" she asked incredulously, her mind reeling at the boy in
front of her, not living under a roof.

   He looked pointedly at her, his green eyes searching.  "A few years.  No
point in calling anyone about it, now."

   He could see the battle warring on in her features.  He knew that if he
had ever told her, she would call for help.  In the few weeks he had spent
with her, she had gone from absolutely worshipping authority figures,
unquestionably obeying them, to admitting that the librarian could be a bit
harsh 'sometimes'.

   He didn't have much faith that she wouldn't immediately run to the
librarian.

   However, she surprised him with her hesitant nod.  "How are you living
day-to-day?" she asked him, her eyes roaming him over like it was the first
time ever seeing him.  He looked down at his own Nottingham Forest shirt
that he had seen in the store, and it looked clean and new.

   He looked back up to her and grinned.  "I get by."

   "You steal?"

   Harry nodded unabashedly.  "I can't get a job, now can I?"

   She crossed her arms.  "And that's your excuse."

   "It's the one I'm sticking to."

   "Do you feel proud of yourself?  Taking from hardworking people?"

   He narrowed his eyes.  "Most times, yes.  It's amazing how much I can
get away with."

   Hermione fidgeted, and he inwardly smirked as he realized that she
remembered when he had eluded her the first time they met, many months ago.
"Could you do me a favor?"

   Harry nodded, unsure.

   "Don't get caught." Her eyes pleaded with him.  "Please."

   Harry wasn't intending to.  And now, looking into her eyes, he made a
solemn promise that he wouldn't.

   ------------------------

   *~Post-Veil~*

   "You know," Harry remarked into the full-size mirror, "you took that
pretty well.  And you didn't ask many questions about it."

   "Harry, I know you can't believe it, but there was actually a time where
you weren't a social person.  Even if I asked, I couldn't get the right
answers out of you.  And my mind was working far faster than you give me
credit for.  You may recall that /I/ found your last name a few days later
because I looked you up after that very moment."

   "You found his last name?" Harley questioned, catching the brunette's
strange words.  She turned to Harry, her eyes inquisitive.  "You didn't
tell her your last name?  Did you tell anyone else your last name, or were
you really big on anonymity?"

   Harry grimaced, leaning his head back.  "I didn't know it.  My relatives
never told me.  They thought I was a...  er, a - "

   "/Freak/," Harleen whispered.  Harry turned to her in surprise.  "That's
why you flinched at that word.  They literally tried the beat the magic out
of you, didn't they?"

   Pamela looked away, her eyes cold.  "My plants have never been
particularly carnivorous.  They'll make an exception."

   "They're dead," Hermione muttered monotonously.  "I killed them.  And
I'd do it again in a bloody heartbeat." Her eyes glistened.  "They reported
him missing three years after he ran away.  Three /bloody/ years!  And I
bet it was on Dumbledore's orders when he found out!"

   Luna wrapped her arm around her best friend's shoulders.  "It's okay,
'Mione.  It's over."

   Hermione sniffled.  "Not yet, it's not.  There's still the kingpin. 
It'll never be over until he's dealt with."

   "He will have his time," Luna promised the melancholy teen.  "He'll pay
for everything he's done.  I promise."

   Harry sighed, sitting his head back up and facing the girls in the
mirror.  "I would like to be there, but I'm sure he won't respond well to
the fact that I'm gone for too long.  He'll try to take the veil if he
thinks we're getting nowhere.  I hope you've hidden it well."

   "We've got girls 'round the clock working on it," Luna informed him
cheerily, "the best curse-breakers we have.  Fleur got here this morning;
her exams kept her from coming sooner.  She's working well with Tonks and
Daphne, especially.  They're looking for spells or objects that can break
the path."

   "If Dumbledore or Snape give either of you or anyone else a hard time,"
Harry warned the girls, "do me a favor and send them through the bloody
veil.  If I'm lucky, they'll land in the same spot I was when I got here.
I'll be waiting."

   Hermione leaned into Luna's embrace.  "Actually, Dumbledore's been
rather accommodating, which annoys us.  He's allowed Luna and me to skip
classes for the week.  It doesn't really matter after OWLS, so it's nothing
special, but it was a show of good faith, and it's disturbing."

   "It's something he's expected to do," Harry nodded.  "Publicly, you two
are my closest friends.  Everyone would be questioning it if he didn't.  I
wouldn't be surprised if Septima or Aurora pushed for it, though.  Still,
it's going to make it seem like he's the hero in all this, because public
knowledge says I'm dead, and he was the one that allowed you to grieve."

   "Makes sense," Luna nodded.  "I'd bet Minerva endorsed the idea.  She
sees you like a son."

   Harry snorted.  "A delinquent child you'd send to military school,
maybe."

   "She's right, Harry.  McGonagall actually /cried/ when she heard the
news.  I had to make her swear to an oath before I could tell her that
you're still alive.  She's in our confidence now, Harry.  Her loyalty lies
with us."

   Harry's eyes showed his surprise.  "Wow.  That's...  she really cried
for me?"

   The brunette nodded.  "I'd save the memory in the pensieve if it wasn't
so heart-breaking.  She screamed bloody murder, and tore a new one into
Dumbledore for not being at the Ministry."

   "That works for us," Harry snickered, "considering he didn't know until
we gave Tonks the message."

   The girls in the mirror grinned slyly.

   Pamela poured herself a cup of tea and sipped at it.  "This
'Dumbledore'...  is he a wolf in sheep's clothing as well?"

   "Worse," Luna sighed, her fingers running over the butterbeer caps on
her necklace.  "He's the shepherd.  And while I'm sure he would appreciate
the term /goatherd/ better, I liked your analogy more."

   "And he's got the wool pulled over everyone's eyes," Harry muttered.  He
blinked.  "Sorry.  That one was unintentional.  He's got everyone fooled, I
mean.  I suppose he would be the police in this world, and, no offense,
Hermione, Luna, and I would be the Batman."

   "Hm?" Hermione's head popped off of Luna's shoulder.  "Batman?  As in
the comic book hero?"

   Harry nodded.  "It seems so.  I'm, apparently, in a world where he's a
real person.  Everything seems legitimate about him.  I haven't read the
comics, but he has the same name as the Batman in the comics."

   "Same name?  Wait - you /know/!?" Harleen accused him.

   Luckily for him, she didn't look angered that he hadn't told them yet -
he was a bit pre-occupied with his headache earlier, and she understood. 
There was still a certain amount of surprise, though.  "Actually," he
hastily explained, "I suspected you'd want to figure it out yourself when
you watch his memories."

   "Harry?  Are you telling me that you did...  /that/ to a superhero?"
Hermione looked shocked that he was alive, frankly.  "Did you /once/ stop
to consider that it might not work on a /superhuman/?"

   "I tried Legilimency before I took some memories," Harry said
defensively.  "His mind is as normal as anyone else's; a prodigy, yes, but
for the most part, that's a normal man under that bat outfit."

   "That wasn't a contradiction at all," Harley noted, and Pamela
unsuccessfully fought a grin from sneaking onto her beautiful visage.

   "Okay.  Sorry, I overreacted.  I just worry."

   "You have every right to," Harry smiled at his best friend, "but not
about me.  I can handle myself."

   "The more you say that, the more I start to believe it," she muttered
with an embarrassed grin, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears with her
free arm.  "Still, if there's a Batman in your world, then logic - or
whatever logic there is at this point - it would suggest that there are
other things related to him in the lore.  Maybe Harley and Pamela are
mentioned.  I'd have to do more research."

   "And by that, she means she'll read comic books all day," Luna giggled
cutely, and Hermione swatted at her shoulder, but didn't try to correct
her. She'd been looking for an excuse to get into them, having read a few
graphic novels at Hannah's insistence.

   "It'd be nice to have a cheat sheet," Ivy muttered wistfully, now on her
second cup.  "Though, with Harry around, I doubt we'd need it.  Especially
considering he's changing everything with him being here."

   "And actions," Harley quipped.  "I don't think they were expecting that
entrance." She snorted lightly.  "I don't think anyone expected that!"

   "That was the intention," Harry smiled, "but if you think they're going
to just let us get away with...  /what/ are we doing, exactly?  Cleaning
the sewers?  Create a bio-terrorism war?  We need a plan going in."

   "We'll discuss it in the morning," Ivy murmured, leaning against Harry.
"But that's the gist of it.  While killing everyone in Gotham with spores
was a fun idea, it was a reckless, heat-of-the-moment attack.  With
Harley's help, I've refined my goals.  We won't stop until we get to a
point where human-kind values plant-life as much as their own.  They have
suffered under the hands of humans enough, and I will help them calm their
screams."

   "You really can hear their screams?" Harry whispered, his eyes searching
hers.  "All the time?"

   She spared a smile at his concerned look.  "Fortunately, and thankfully,
no.  On some level, we can speak to each other, almost like a normal
conversation.  I can hear screams from a plant as well as you can a human,
at a moderate distance.  I can't hear a tree being destroyed in the amazon,
but this forest is loud and clear to me." She smiled fondly.  "By the way;
my babies told me earlier today that they never attacked you when you first
came here because you were unapproachable.  You've hidden very well."

   Harry shrugged his shoulders.  "I'll show you my secrets next time we
need it.  Which reminds me; this place - how protected is it?"

   Ivy looked at him strangely.  "Other than deadly vines with poisonous
thorns larger than your fist and sharper than a swordsmith's proudest work?
The door is locked."

   "I mean, in terms of visibility.  We reach an act of terrorism, they
could literally rain down fire or some other chemicals on us, and your
plants might not be immune to that.  Armor-piercing bullets probably won't
help, either."

   "We're well-hidden in the forest," Harley supplied helpfully.  "At
night, vines wrap up the entire place.  During the day, it's just a regular
house with an attached greenhouse in the middle of the woods.  We're about
four miles out of Gotham, and this is six miles of forest all around.  The
trees are tall and strong - they'll hide us from a bat's eye view. 
Compliments to the proprietor of this lovely green establishment." She
smiled warmly at her green-skinned lover, who flushed at the praise.

   Harry nodded.  "Okay.  That works.  When we get a bounty on our heads,
we can use magical protection.  But this definitely works."

   "Okay," Pamela agreed.  "We can do that, and discuss our plans, later."
She turned back to Hermione and Luna, who were patiently waiting, the
blonde's head snuggled against the brunette's generous bosom.  "But for
now, I'm curious; how were you able to find Harry's last name?  Is the name
'Harry' that uncommon?"

   Hermione shook her head, her fingers running through Luna's sleek
dirty-blonde hair.  "No.  A member of the royal family is named Harry, so a
lot of families feel some sort of perverse connection or heightened
expectation by naming their child Harry.  There were quite a few missing
Harrys.  There was only one child, however," her eyes moved subtly to the
boy in question's forehead, "who had such a distinct mark like that. 
They've never taken a picture of Harry, but they were able to give a fairly
accurate sketch, while both putting the scar on the wrong side of his head
and underplaying how dreadfully underfed he was."

   "I ate more living by myself than I did with the Dursleys," Harry
laughed at the ironic thought, while the girls' faces around him grew
darker.

   "You've killed them in your world, and I hope you didn't make it easy
for them," Harley said seriously, staring pointedly at Hermione, and she
nodded.  "But if these Dursleys exist in this world as well, then I want my
shot at them, too."

   "If they even did exist here, they'd be around my age, and Petunia
wouldn't even be a Dursley," Harry commented, before a sobering thought
came to him, and he shuddered.  "At this point, I'm older than my
/mother/!"

   "And my aunt," Hermione added cheekily, and giggled at the glare Harry
sent her way.  "And while I wouldn't object to someone taking out that
dreadful family again, we may be jumping the gun.  As far as we know,
they're still innocent people."

   "Vernon is a bully," the ebony-haired teen muttered.  "He's the Dudley
of his generation.  At Smeltings, with that stupid cane, beating and
maiming people with it - "

   "/What/?" Ivy hissed loudly, her eyes beginning to glow a very dangerous
shade of green.  "A /cane/?"

   Harry nodded.  "The school assigns all their students with canes, so
they can hit each other while the teachers aren't looking.  Supposed to
build character."

   "Sounds like it builds more lawsuits!" Harleen was seething as well. 
"What the hell kinda school has rules like that?"

   "A school that's lasted at least two generations," Harry shook his head.
"Of course, Dudley prospered well at that school.  He's been a bit
aggressive since he didn't have me for a punching bag anymore."

   "Wait," Ivy interrupted, the thought just coming to her.  "How do you
know all of this?  Did you go /back/ to them?"

   Harley looked incredulous at the thought.  "Those bruises on your back;
that's not from a decade ago, is it?" She whispered softly, almost fearful
of the answer.

   Harry smiled a bit.  It may have been a bit out of place - discussing
the abuse he had taken at the Dursleys' hands, and the long-term
repercussions of said abuse - but he couldn't help but feel honored that he
was surrounded by people who worried about his well-being.  "He can't hurt
me anymore," Harry whispered.  "Not where he's at.  Thank you for caring,
but...  I don't think I need anyone feeling sad for me right now.  Anyone
looking through my eyes can see my luck has dramatically changed since
then."

   "Still," Hermione started delicately, "you asked about it, and we'll
tell you.  Yes, he did get sent back - on Dumbledore's orders.  Harry was
twelve, and he had - /arguably/ - the worst of his years in Hogwarts."

   "They were all pretty decent, considering the ups compared to the
downs," he smirked at his first girlfriend, his green eyes shining. 
"Still, there was a time when you were happy to go to Hogwarts.  Remember
when you got your letter?"

   Hermione had a wistful look on her features.  "Yeah, there was a time. I
was naïve, certainly.  One thing I'll always cherish, though - the look on
your face when I told you about it.  When you realized that you could tell
me everything."

   "And that was when Hermione Granger broke her first rule," Luna smiled,
her eyes closed.  "Before she even read that Harry was a celebrity, she had
already made the choice to tell her best friend that she had gotten an
invitation to Hogwarts."

   "Are you falling asleep on me, Luna?" Hermione asked the blond resting
on her chest, amused.

   "I was listening, you just have such soft pillows," Luna purred, and
Hermione blushed.

   "Moving on," the brunette murmured, purposefully ignoring her
boyfriend's chuckles and the other girls' muffled laughter, "I got the
letter, and I thought logically about it.  It seemed that Harry certainly
qualified for having magic, what with the adventures he's told me about,
and the things I've seen him do, and I reasoned that he would likely be
getting a letter had someone known where he went."

   "That was around the time I finally mastered Occlumency, and the
memories started to come easier to me.  I was sorting out my memories bit
by bit for organization - a little each day, as the book suggested.  I woke
up one day knowing what my parents look like, the same day Hermione got
that letter.  She showed me the letter, and I told her...  well,
/everything/, really."

   "You wouldn't shut up," Hermione muttered, her lips curved upwards.  "It
was sweet.  You spilled out your soul to me, secrets that you've never told
anyone other than Luna and very few other girls, including you two.  That
might not mean a lot now, but here, Harry's trust is sacred."

   Harry flushed at her high thought of him.  "Well, you didn't have to say
it like that," he murmured embarrassingly, "some things are hard to talk
about, is all.  Besides, you broke a rule for me; a rule with almost
unimaginable consequences, just because you had a hunch about me."

   "Harry, I wouldn't have gone without you," she said defiantly.  "I told
you before I told my parents, because I didn't want to be pressured into
going.  I had almost no idea if you were magical or not.  I'd already made
up my mind; if I couldn't bring my only friend, then I wasn't going to
Hogwarts."

   "Hermione, you /know/ that you'd still see me around even if I wasn't
invited.  Even when Ms.  Bryan banned me, you saw me nearly every day.  I'd
find my way in."

   "A haggard librarian doesn't compare to a magical school, Harry,"
Hermione pointed out with a smile, "but I'm flattered, none-the-less."

   "Still, I proved to break their defenses too, right?" Harry cheekily
grinned.  "Still, I'm getting off-track.  When I saw that Hermione could do
magic, I was over the bloody moon.  What were the chances, really?  I
finally showed her my own power, and began teaching her some magic."

   "What did you do?" Harleen wondered, crossing her legs as she sat back
against his arm once more.

   The green-eyed wizard hugged her to himself.  "Something simple, and
rather tame, actually.  I levitated a book, then I summoned a small fire in
my hand.  It was a cool little parlour trick I discovered I could do, but I
knew it was too risky to do something like a street show, so I wanted to
show off a bit."

   "He just held up his palm and blue fire hovered over it.  The heat and
brightness of it made me shield my eyes.  It swirled so intensely, I was
sure it might spin out of control." She looked at Harley, then at Ivy,
making eye contact with both.  "/No one/ can do that.  Not Dumbledore.  Not
Voldemort.  Not even me.  And, full disclosure, we are quite easily the
four most powerful people in recent history."

   "A bit dramatic, there, 'Mione."

   "Harry, you didn't even flinch when you summoned that fire.  It was
/blue/, for Merlin's sake."

   "Merlin?" Harleen queried, having caught that name a few times.  "So
he's a real person?"

   "Indeed," Hermione confirmed.  "And he's just as famous to us as he is
to the rest of the world.  He attended Hogwarts, actually; a millennia
ago."

   "What did he look like?" Harley jumped in her seat excitedly, gently
breaking away from Harry's embrace.

   Pamela smiled softly at her girlfriend's childlike exuberance.  "Down,
girl.  I doubt they have a picture of him." She glanced over to Hermione
skeptically.  "Do you?"

   "Actually..." Hermione started, "...we have a drawn picture.  The look
of Merlin is pretty similar to what normal people think he looks like.  His
picture is, I think, most accurate in /Hogwarts, A History/."

   As Hermione was finished talking, Harry gingerly removed his right arm
from Pamela's shoulders, and proceeded to wave his fingers back and forth.
They watched in fascination as pages began to appear in thin air, sliding
along his fingertips and stacking on top of each other, floating before
them.

   Hermione's face heated more and more as each page materialized in front
of them.  "Is that...  verbatim, Harry?"

   He gave her a deadpan look, the pages spilling from his fingers. 
"Every. Single.  Word."

   Luna laughed uproariously, while Pamela and Harley looked confused at
the brunette's embarrassment.  "And to believe - Harry's never read a
page!"

   "It's a good book," Hermione squeaked.

   "I know it is, love," Harry muttered, dragging his finger along the
spine, and Harley cooed as the leather binding wrapped around the stack. 
He grabbed the levitating book and flipped through its pages.  "Ah, here it
is; page fourteen."

   Ivy and Harley stared at the Dumbledore look-alike, while Hermione tried
to regain her composure.  "Well, if you could conjure books, then I suppose
you wouldn't mind conjuring a pensieve, then?  It's a lot better than
describing it."

   "Would that work?" Harry wondered.  "I mean, it's a magical object.  At
most, I'll be conjuring a kettle.  I was trying to figure out a way to show
Batman's memories to them.  I think the only way might be to find a
pensieve in this world; if it exists."

   Hermione thought furiously, and turned to Luna, who still had wetness in
her eyes from mirth.  "Luna, do you know any way to let them see the
memories?"

   Luna shrugged.  "Other than the obvious."

   "What's the obvious?" Hermione wondered with a bright smile, knowing
that it would be a thought that no one considered.

   "Harry puts the memories in a quartered off section of his mind, and you
can access it.  Then we put it in our pensieve, and jump in there with the
mirror."

   "Luna; you're a genius."

   She looked confused.  "You didn't think of that?  I thought you didn't
want to suggest it because we don't really know how strong your mental
connection with Harry is right now."

   "I can feel it getting stronger," Harry told the two, leaning forward.
"I scream in my head, you can hear me.  You get pissed, I can feel it.  The
theme seems to be whenever we're feeling something powerful, it's loud and
clear.  So I don't think you'll be able to get a good connection with me
for now."

   "The fact that the connection is still working is impressive," Luna
noted.  "I've said this before, but you two aren't really supposed to put
that much distance between you two.  It's why all of Voldemort's Horcruxes
are in Europe.  At this point, he has too many, but if he had two or three,
he'd feel a bit of pain if one of them left...  /oh/."

   Realization dawned on the two smartest witches of their generation,
followed closely by the three on the other side of the mirror.  "Shit,"
Hermione breathed.  "So Harry killed Voldemort that way?  By going to a
different dimension with a piece of his soul?"

   "Could it really be that simple?" Harleen wondered, her eyes wide. 
"Just getting in some distance between his Horcruxes?  Shipping a package
to a distant relative in the United States could kill a Dark Wizard?"

   "There has to be more to it," Harry said slowly.  "...Right?  It /can't/
be that easy."

   The silence that ensued suggested that it very well could be, and just
might be.

   Ivy cleared her throat.  "That still wouldn't explain why you and
Hermione are not suffering from any negative effects."

   "You have a point," Hermione muttered, before biting her bottom lip in
concentration.  "I'm tempted to look into it, but figuring out that veil is
a priority right now."

   "Killing Voldemort is always a priority," Harry pointed out.  "But yeah,
since he's temporarily down, getting back would be nice.  I'll go back to
the scene in the morning."

   "/We'll/ go back to the scene," Pamela corrected him.  "After you model
your clothes for us, like you promised.  We purposefully waited until
nighttime to show you what Gotham looks like.  It looks so drastically
different during the day."

   "I'd have to disguise you," Harry remarked.  "You're pretty
recognizable, and I don't want police surrounding the scene I spawned
from."

   Ivy shook her head.  "No need.  Harley is a master at disguise."

   "You won't even recognize her," Harleen spouted proudly.  "Especially
when Ivy puts on a performance.  She's really good at acting like she
tolerates other people."

   She shrugged.  "Only because I know I'll enslave them soon."

   "Are we working for plant equality, or plant world domination?" Harry
asked, amused.

   "Whichever's easier," she smirked, leaning against his shoulder, "and
knowing the stubbornness of humans...  I'd say that forced slavery is the
best bet."

   "And that's not going a bit overboard?" Hermione asked after a short
pause, seeing Harry's shocked silence.

   Pamela shrugged, once again.  "Maybe.  Whatever it takes for them to
follow my message."

   "World domination..." Harleen muttered to herself, tapping her chin in
thought.  "It sounds fun!"

   "Doesn't it?" Ivy grinned, reaching over Harry to pat her girlfriend's
thigh.  "The journey there should be pretty exciting, at least."

   Harry scoffed and crossed his arms.  "How much fun we might have is not
the problem.  Having a city, a state, or even the government hounding us is
going to be a problem.  Are you ready to have the /world/ gunning for you?"

   Ivy lost her smile, and her eyes focused on his.  "I told you before; I
told them all.  Gotham is nothing but a testing ground for my plans.  Then
my presence will spread through the other major cities - Keystone,
Metropolis, Star City.  It will escalate when other nations respond, and
we'll have to strike first..  I honestly don't know if Harley and I alone
can handle this, but it needs to be done - someone has to do it.  Whether
you join us or not is your decision."

   Harry looked back and forth between the two, while Hermione looked
ponderous.  His eyes settled on the redhead.  "Would you love me any less
if I declined?"

   There was an uncertainty in her eyes.  "I...  I don't know if I do now.
Is there an attraction?  Of course.  Sexual tension?  Obviously.  Could I
see this relationship between us continue?  Sure.  I don't...  I'm not
going to try to understand the depth of the relationship you have with your
girls.  I don't really understand the immediate attraction Harley felt
towards you.  I feel it towards you, only after Harley pointed it out. 
There's something about you - the charming, modest, intelligent person that
I see, that happens to have incredible power and a streak for considering
other people's feelings.  It's just /refreshing/.  And it's something that
makes me lose even more faith in humanity, because I see you, and your
friends, and I see /them/, out there, and I wonder...  /are/ we the worst?
Is our world so /dirty/, that looking in from the outside, we're
entertainment?  The fucked up humanity I've seen in Gotham - it /belongs/
in a comic book.

   "And that's how your world sees it.  And as you've said, your world is
corrupt as well, and that's why you're trying to overthrow your government.
And still, they have the time to read our escapades.  A story of how a
world is so polluted, a man dressed like a bat does more than the police.
Do you know how /easy/ it was before he came along?  The fact that no one
could stop me is a testament to how screwed we are.  No government steps
in. No state police.  Nothing.  Maybe I'm too soft?  Maybe I need to kill
more?  I don't know.  But the facts are that if I can take over, then
anyone with a modicum of power can.  I've seen that there are others like
me - mutants.  Powerful criminals with much more nefarious plots than
anything I could stomach.  Just three days ago, a man held up a packed
football stadium hostage with bombs, simply because it was Father's Day,
and he wanted to 'celebrate' the unappreciated holiday.  Everything was
back to normal the next day.  The people, the news, they were all bored
with that story, and waited for the next - and we were the new story,
that'll be talked about for days.  The only thing that's keeping their
attention even that long is because you're new, and unexpected.  It's... 
maddening.  Picture what would happen if Batman weren't around?  The
Commissioner, reportedly, never left the goddamn house during the bomb
threat!  The only reason he was there to meet us was for good press; a
chance to say that he did something, like arrest the best team in Gotham.

   "This is far beyond my babies - nature is in danger, but so is the rest
of the world.  So," Ivy sighed, sitting back against the sofa.  "I guess
what I'm trying to say is no.  I wouldn't love you any less if you didn't
join us.  But," her eyes focused on Harry's, "I wouldn't love you any less
if you had the sense to get out while you still can.  I've made the offer
to Harley."

   "As often as possible," the natural blonde muttered, wrapping her hands
around Harry's arm.  "I'll stick by Red's side until the end.  She knows
that - she just doesn't like it.  You know what I tell her?  It's what
people who love each other do."

   Harry nodded.  "You're right.  It is.  But that's not the main reason
I'm staying."

   Harley breathed a heavy sigh of relief, while Pamela almost choked on
her own breath.  Harry's hand rested on her thigh.  "Several months ago, I
once told the world that Voldemort had returned from the grave.  Not only
did they all turn on me, they discredited every word I've said since,
simply because the minister didn't believe me.  The only authority figure
who has ever publicly supported me was the Prime Minister of Wizarding
France, and she was my friend.  No one cared about my evidence.  No one
cared about my word, and I'd given them no reason to distrust me.  It was
then when we decided that something needed to change - that we needed to
overthrow the authority, and change the world for the better.  I'd be a
hypocrite if I said that your idea is any different from mine.  In fact,
it's very much the same idea.  I'm joining because I don't know much about
your world, but you've given me no reason to distrust you, and I'll believe
your word.  I'm joining because..." he glanced at Harley, then back to
Pamela, "because I'd hate myself if I didn't.  I'm not worried about your
well-being - you two seem to have been able to take care of yourselves
before I got here.  But I don't think I could tolerate myself if I didn't
help make your journey to the top easier."

   Ivy leaned in and kissed Harry chastely.  "Thank you," she murmured, her
eyes shining.

   "You are so gonna get laid tonight," Harley whispered, loud enough for
Ivy to hear.

   "Don't you have dinner to cook?" She said loudly, refusing the rosy
blush to surface on her cheeks.

   "Can't cook without a menu," Harley shot back with a grin.  "Besides,
I'm hungry for...  something else."

   "Of course you are," Ivy muttered to herself, smiling.  "But we do have
to eat, eventually.  It's been more than a day."

   "It is an essential part of being alive," Harry pointed out.  "My magic
can sustain me for a while, as my earlier street-hopping days showed me,
but I'd rather not starve myself, especially with the energy I've been
burning.  Why don't I whip something up quick?  It'll be a few minutes."

   "Are you sure?" Harleen asked, releasing his hand as he got up from the
couch.  "It's no problem - you really shouldn't be cooking for us on the
first full night here."

   Harry chuckled as he paused at the doorway.  "Funny - I feel like I've
been here for a lifetime."

   Ivy grinned at her newest lover.  "Any regrets?"

   He grinned back.  "Haven't decided yet.  It hasn't even been twenty-four
hours."

   Hermione waited until he was out of sight before speaking.  "So, Pamela,
Harley...  if you don't mind me asking...  what do you two regularly look
like - without the costumes?"

   Ivy flushed and looked away, while Harleen giggled.

   "What?" Hermione wondered.  "Did I say something wrong?"

   Luna smiled as she finally fell asleep against her best friend's breast.

   ------------------------

   "I thought you quit."

   James Gordon breathed steadily into the air, the smoke wafting into the
black night.  "Yeah.  I thought I did, too."

   Detective Essen crossed her arms as she leaned against the doorway. 
"Are you going to be long?"

   He shook his head, and took another drag.

   After a few more seconds of uncomfortable silence, she pulled open the
door and walked back into the station.

   Jim sighed.  Alone on the roof.

   He could be with his wife and daughter right now.

   Instead he had to deal with...  whatever the hell just happened tonight.

   Loeb was pissed about it all.  Patrolling units all night long was
apparently in the schedule.  Even speeding tickets were ignored as they
searched for the elusive trio.

   Howard Branden was still being treated.  He likely wouldn't be allowed
to search with them, as he almost definitely suffered a concussion.

   Which was a good thing.  He'd rather they bring at least one of them in
alive.  Of course, the commissioner didn't care.  He wanted answers, but
he'd rather they be put down quickly, rather than given another chance to
escape.

   The injured were sent to the hospital.  He would visit them in the
morning.  He had almost gotten into the back of the ambulance after a
routine check-up when Barbara called, having seen the news broadcast.

   Which led him to his first cigarette in months.

   She won the fight, of course, mainly because she fought him with the
truth.  He had no idea why he continued to fight for this city.  Corrupt
colleagues aside, what he found himself facing was far and beyond out of
his league.  It was like there was an entire generation of freaks evolving
into something else.  Scum with the power of gods.

   "Only crazy can fight crazy," the Captain muttered, flicking the butt of
the cigarette to the ground, before squashing it.  Right now, he didn't
know what to do.  It was times like this he wished the vigilante and the
villains took each other out.  God knows he was searching for them right
now, and they were waiting for him.

   He pulled out another cigarette.  One more couldn't hurt.

   Not as much as the paperwork would.

   ------------------------

   "You know," the gray-haired Englishman remarked, knuckles digging into
the back of his employer's neck, "if you listened to me, you wouldn't be in
this situation to begin with."

   The Batman said nothing.

   "And now," he pressed his palms into his bare shoulder and squeezed the
muscles tight, "you could have been killed tonight, and without a fighting
chance at all.  You just happened to meet someone gracious enough to allow
you to live.  I'd be very thankful, Master Bruce, and count my blessings."

   There was silence as Alfred Pennyworth poked and prodded along his back.
"What if someone had seen you?  What if someone had captured you?  How were
you going to explain this to anyone?  What would I tell Andrea?"

   Bruce winced.  Of course Alfred had to involve her in this.

   The faithful butler's fingers pressed at the small of his back, and
Bruce's fingers twitched.  Nodding with satisfaction, he stepped away. 
"You should be able to move most of your body within the next few minutes.
I suggest you take it and use it wisely.  I'm not telling you that I
wouldn't help you next time you get in a situation like this, because I
would; I made a promise to your parents.  A promise that I intend to keep.
A good and human promise, that actually /meant/ something to them." His
tightening fists suddenly loosened, and he joined his hands behind his
back. "Batman cannot stop them.  I've seen the news.  I've taped it.  I've
paused it.  They /literally/ vanished into thin air.  Batman cannot do
that. And if they're the ones who did that to you, then maybe I should be
thankful.  They gave you a warning - a wakeup call.  Instead of the death
wish you seem to be begging the criminals of Gotham for years."

   He gave a heavy sigh, watching his ward's insistently wiggling fingers,
and his pulsing veins in his body.  "One day, Master Bruce, you will want
to take the time to hear my pleas.  And it'll be too late for them to make
any difference."

   He turned and walked away from the medical bed, moving towards the
elevator.  "Twenty-five minutes until dinner is served.  That will give you
plenty of time to ignore me.  But even when he knew he had to save the
world, even Jesus celebrated his last meal, sir."

   ------------------------

   "Okay," Pamela muttered, having just swallowed the first bite of the
steak in front of her, seated at the table in their kitchen.  "I'm aware
that I've been saying this in the heat of the moment, but that's how good
this is; I think I'm in love with you."

   Harleen giggled, her blonde tresses covering her eyes.  "I don't know
what I can say to top that.  I'll just have to settle for: This is /really/
good."

   Harry grinned behind his fork.  It really wasn't the first time a girl
had proclaimed her love for him when he cooked.  "I'm glad you two love it.
Hope it fills you up - we have been neglecting eating food lately."

   "Meh," Harley waved it away, "At this point, I'm restocking energy.  I
have no intentions of letting it sit still.  You deserve a real nice 'thank
you'."

   "If you want to show gratitude, saying thank you would be easier," Harry
pointed out, his grin full-bloom.

   "Arguably," she licked her lips after taking another bite of her
fettuccine.  "But a blowjob would be more fun."

   "This is the part where I'd choke on my food," Ivy muttered, pinching
the bridge of her nose.  She looked pointedly at Harley.  "So what is this?
The honeymoon phase?  What's with the constant sex on the brain?"

   "Aw," she cooed, "that's sweet, Ivy.  Pretending that your nips haven't
been as hard as steel since we got back."

   To her credit, she didn't blush.  "They usually always are, dear."

   She looked pointedly at her green-skinned lover.  "Pammy, sweetie, I
look more than you do.  It's only when you're horny."

   Harry took another bite of the casserole.  Normally, the food would be
much more interesting to him in awkward moments like this, but he decided
to take on a more proactive role.  "So which one is it, Ivy?"

   She looked curiously over to him.  "Which one what?"

   "Which one of us kept you wet?  Harley or me?"

   Ivy gasped at his frankness, while Harley's eyebrows arched delicately.
"I...  I don't..."

   "When you were rubbing my abs earlier, and licking your lips, were you
thinking of how you couldn't wait to tuck into bed?  Or were you thinking
that I might take you both in the kitchen, Harley riding me and you
grinding along my stomach while you sucked on a man's tongue for the third
time today, like an addiction you didn't know you couldn't quit?"

   Harry smirked as Ivy's hand trembled.  "Or maybe it's just me," he
whispered, turning back to his food.

   Harley rubbed her thighs together under the table as she made eye
contact with her girlfriend.  She looked so vulnerable - so /weak/.

   Just like she herself did the first time she met Harry.  And the first
time she met Pamela, now that she thought of it.

   Slowly, Harleen placed her fork down next to her half-eaten meal, and
wiped at her chin demurely.  With her other hand, she took a long sip of
the glass of ice water, and she almost laughed when she saw Ivy gulp
nervously.

   The cloth she had used to dab at the corners of her now unpainted pink,
pouty lips, slipped from her nimble fingers and fell to the floor.  "Oops,"
She grinned.

   Pamela's eyes widened.  Surely, she wasn't thinking...

   She gasped in surprise as she felt a shock run through her.  Rough hands
grazed her bare thigh with a feather touch, skimming and skipping across
her smooth skin.  She immediately glanced over to Harry, who was calmly
chewing a bite of his cube steak, one hand wrapped around the handle of his
fork, the other under the table.

   Doing /sinfully/ good things to her.  She bit her lip to hold back a
moan, and closed her eyes for just a moment, feeling his fingers get
dangerously close to her covered womanhood.  She sighed raggedly, spreading
her legs just a little bit, willing to let herself go completely.

   "Oh!"

   "Where did that stupid cloth go?" Harleen muttered, her breath against
her thighs, her bare hands gripping her ankles.  Teeth nipped against her
skin, and Ivy whimpered each and every time.

   Harry's nimble fingers stroked down the middle of her gusset, gathering
her wetness into her outfit, /soaking/ the material sufficiently.  His
fingers suddenly hooked into the side of her crotch, and pulled it away,
revealing her precious green petals to her Harley's hungry eyes.

   Pamela moaned long and hard as Harley's tongue dragged up her slit, her
tongue bathing in the redhead's flavor-filled fluids as she wrapped her
arms around the older girl's legs.  Her pink lips formed a light suction on
Ivy's nether lips, wiggling her talented, well-trained tongue in and about
her moist cavern.

   Her eyes still closed, she suddenly felt lips against her own.  She
quickly responded, reaching up to run her long fingers across the clean
face as she leaned back in the chair.  Her lips parted delicately, and he
took advantage, his wide tongue polluting her mouth with the taste of
broccoli in a deliciously good way, his hands suddenly grasping her left
breast, covered by her strapless leotard.

   She shivered into his mouth as her outfit suddenly disappeared, and she
was naked, her breasts and undeniably pointed nipples exposed to the room,
her juicy twat being thoroughly excavated by Harley's skilled tongue.  She
stretched her lithe body out and wrapped her thighs around her girlfriend's
neck, placing the bare soles of her feet against her blond lover's naked
lower back as she climaxed in both of her lovers' embraces.

   She barely recognized that Harley had removed her shirt when Harry
pinched lightly at her nipples, before rolling them languidly between his
fingers.  She shuddered wonderfully, squirming around Harley's tongue, and
she cried out at the pleasure assaulting her, her orgasm prolonging.

   Her fingers slid down his clothed chest, sliding down the abs that she
had admired earlier, and periodically throughout, her fingernails lightly
grazing against the cloth just hard enough for him to feel it.

   Poison Ivy - known to the world as the insufferable cocktease, the
look-but-never-touch beauty, seducer and destroyer, quickly and blindly
unbuckled Harry's pants and wrapped her hands around his massive shaft
before it could even flop out of his pants.  She didn't even question his
lack of underwear as she stroked his cock.

   Harry broke the kiss to moan and stood fully, and she finally opened her
eyes and allowed herself to get a closer look at his tool.  It was even
more intimidating than she remembered it, as his large ball sac could have
weighed it down all on its own, his head looking bigger than her mouth
could fit around.

   But she knew from experience that it very well could.  And it damn well
/would/.

   Her tongue peeked out to lick the slit of the head, and her mouth
watered at the taste.  Her tongue quickly swirled around his head, trying
to ignore the overwhelming tongue-lashing she was getting courtesy of her
over-pleasing girlfriend, and instead focused on the massive beauty of her
boyfriend.

   Her /boyfriend/.

   She could get used to that.  And rather quickly, too.

   Perhaps, later, she would reflect on her life, and her utter hatred for
men.  She would take a long, hard look at herself in the mirror, at her
sticky body, covered in the fluids of her two lovers, knowing that the
night would likely end that way, and she would consider her stance against
all men under one umbrella, and maybe, one day, admit to herself that there
were exceptions to the rule.

   Right now, though, for the second time today, and for the second time in
her life, all she knew was that she needed some cock in her, and she needed
it now.

   She wrapped her lips around the head of his dick and spit, moistening
his tool further.  She released his cock from her mouth and tilted it
upwards, taking only a second to watch in fascination as her spit slowly
dribbled down his cock, beginning the impossibly long journey to the
summit, before licking and kissing the side of his meat, trying to cover
his tool with her spit.

   Her lips stretched obscenely around his mast, her small, long tongue
swirling around his cock like a candy cane stripe, much like the vines at
her command, and he shuddered violently at the foreign sensation.  If she
had the space to smile around his dick, she would've, but instead, she
settled for pushing further onto his large shaft.

   Without warning, Harry's fingers gripped tightly into her hair, and
pulled her forward, skewering her onto his stake.  His head pushed past her
tonsils, and her throat gurgled around his tip, painfully burning, while
Harry only felt a gentle massage.  Her eyes began to tear at the strange
sensation, as she could hardly even breathe through her nose.  She closed
her eyes, and concentrating, slid forward even further, and she had to
lower herself as Harry's dick travelled vertically down her throat.

   Harley's mouth slowly retreated from her quivering clam and she scooted
out from under the table.  "/Shit/," she gasped, her eyes wide with arousal
as she saw her girlfriend swallow and gargle on her newest lover's cock,
her throat visibly expanding as he forced himself - or was /she/ doing the
forcing?  - down her gullet.  She could actually see her throat muscles
convulse and pulse around his luxurious fuckstick, squeezing and rolling
against his dick with a passion.

   The blond teen quickly removed her shorts and sauntered over to Harry's
side, reveling at his expression as he tilted his head back, and rubbed her
fingers along the base of his shaft, and she was amazed at the length that
was, as of yet, unexplored.

   No wonder it could never fit in her.  The beast was halfway to Ivy's
stomach and he still had more to spare!

   The first night she and Harry had made love, she had considered it a
challenge to fit as much as she could in her without, if she could avoid
it, killing herself.  A part of her was sure that Harry was thinking the
same thing.  And now, as she watched Ivy's moist eyes closed, breathing
heavily through her nose, practically purring in pleasure, and Harry, his
head tossed back, his body tense, lost in the pleasure surrounding him, she
smiled at the thought that they didn't care; they were having too much fun
to notice.

   With that in mind, and feeling a little bit better about herself, Harley
kneeled to the floor, next to her longtime lover, and gently gripped
Harry's testicles in her hand.

   Harry shuddered mightily, and looked down to see the two gorgeous girls
worshipping his cockmeat, Ivy's lips earning the reputation she had been
falsely given for years, Harley's small hands smoothly caressing his heavy
hairless sac.

   Harley looked up with bright blue eyes at him, and winked, before
sticking out her well-used tongue and licking at the wrinkles of his
scrotum.

   Harry, at this point, was relatively sure he would die - of either
pleasure overload, or the old legend that you usually see what the heart
wants most in the world, in a mirage, before leaving, feeling some false
sense of accomplishment.

   This felt far too real, but he was rather willing to admit that this was
supernatural enough that he couldn't really explain what was happening in
words.  Not that he could speak, really.  He was sure it would come out in
some grunt, or a girly sigh, or something.

   He slowly untangled his fingers from Ivy's hair, careful not to let his
ring get caught in her auburn tresses, and awkwardly kept his hands at his
sides.  Most of his girlfriends were okay with him taking charge...  like
/that/...  and he was sure that they were turned on to the idea as well,
but he didn't want to assert that type of dominance too soon, and much too
fast.

   Instead, he settled for slowly putting his hands on his girls' heads,
running his hands through red and golden locks as they sucked and nipped,
respectfully, at his tool.

   Ivy preened at the touch, slowly leaving her uncomfortable seated
position in the chair and sitting on her haunches, his dick sliding slowly
out of her throat as she adjusted, and she slipped her mouth off of his
steel cock.  She cleared her throat - she had gotten far more comfortable
with his dick down her throat than she should probably be comfortable with,
but seeing as she had no gag reflex, it probably wasn't a surprise - and
lifted her hands to stroke at his thickness once more.

   She found herself a bit proud that her hands could barely fit around his
penis, but her mouth could handle it well.

   Her eyes moved over to her lovely girlfriend, whose mouth was currently
bathing Harry's testicles with love and tenderness.  She showed as much
dedication whenever she focused on her, as she had proved mere minutes ago.
Jealousy was far from her mind at this point.  Perhaps mutual respect?  He
had managed to capture the heart of Harleen Quinzel and Pamela Isley, and
he truly deserved the world for that fantastic feat.

   She giggled, and kissed the tip of his gorgeous cock.  Then, taking
Harley's attention, she kissed the girl's cheek.  Her girlfriend popped her
mouth off of Harry's sac for a moment, staring lustfully at her first
lover.

   The two began to kiss slowly, their lips gently smacking against each
other's.  Their bare breasts glided together freely as their hands roamed
each other's sides.

   Harry quickly stood back to watch the two vixens in front of him,
stroking himself as he did so.  He leaned against the counter, as he
witnessed a sight that very few people wouldn't kill to see.

   Ivy's fingers travelled down her blond lover's stomach, and swiftly
slammed two fingers into her.  Harley broke the kiss to squeak in surprise,
and Ivy took the opportunity to nip at her young lover's throat, kissing
and sucking at her soft, supple skin.

   Harley whimpered as she was assaulted by Pamela's fingers, a sensitive
spot on her neck being assaulted by her loving, curious pink muscle. 
Normally, this was the point where her vines would come out of nowhere,
when she was distracted, and hold her down, because she tended to thrash
around during their bouts of lovemaking.  Her hands were free, so she
decided to show her appreciation by sliding her fingers down her
sweat-slicked stomach to Ivy's moist snatch and rubbing aggressively at her
throbbing clitoris.

   "Ah!" she moaned loudly, her private area sensitive.  She whipped her
hair back and continued to suck on her neck, lowering her body, leaving a
trail of saliva down the young girl's neck.  She grinned against the top of
her cleavage, feeling her lover writhe and wiggle against her, her back
arching towards her hungry lips.

   "Fuck," Harley yelled aloud, her peach nub tingling as her lover wrapped
her soft lips around it, and she felt Ivy curl her fingers inside her
snatch, wriggling them pleasurably - and a little painfully.  "/No/, Red,"
she gasped, then moaned, as she felt her knees weaken to the pleasure. 
"I'm - still sensitive."

   The gorgeous green teen lifted her lips from the nub of her fleshy
mammaries.  "You wanted to take on two lovers," Ivy hissed, her index
finger rubbing the bump inside her girl, and Harley squeaked loudly at the
overwhelming sensation.  "Don't make me feel left out, Harley," she
simpered, and attached herself to her teat once more, thrusting into Harley
without pause, curling her fingers at every other upstroke.

   Harley moaned incoherently in response, her body rocking with her
girlfriend's, grunting occasionally as the pleasure and pain melded
together into an entirely new feeling of unimaginable euphoria.

   She hadn't felt like this since...  last night, actually.

   "Still as tight as I remember you," Ivy whispered into her ear.  "Even
after he stretched you out - I thought he wrecked you like a cheap car."

   "/He did/," She whispered guiltily, her breath in gasps as she reminded
her of that very moment that crossed her mind, and the morning after.  Her
pussy squeezed and swallowed at her girlfriend's long slim fingers, and she
dimly felt her knuckles slap against her aching bundle of nerves resting
against the top of her slit.

   "He'll have to try harder," she muttered, loving the feel of the
blonde's tight cunt spasming around her digits.  "My sweet, pristine
Harleen...

   "Maybe it's because you have an audience," she speculated quietly, still
loud enough for said audience to overhear.  "You're putting on quite a show
for him.  Just like you two put on a show for me."

   Harley's head lolled to the side, and she witnessed Harry slam his long
shaft with his own hands, wonderful schlicking sounds meeting her ears as
he pumped his hard organ, covered with her lover's spit.  "Baby," the teen
whimpered, her legs shaking as she bounced on her girlfriend's digits, her
pale green lover's snatch forgotten.  "Don't be mad..." She gasped loudly,
and quivered in orgasm unexpectedly.  "/Fuck!/"

   Ivy quickly added a third finger, and she found it truly surprising how
difficult it was to slide her digits back in.  "Bouncing on me like it's
his dick," she murmured softly, watching as her eyes hazed with pleasure.
"You've never been more turned on in your life." She grinned sinisterly. 
"And neither have I."

   Harley squeaked again as Ivy began to thrust even harder, her hair
flipping every which way as she kept cumming, her fluids leaking onto her
lover's soaked and practically confined fingers.  Her mouth opened in a
soundless scream as her abs tightened painfully, her legs shaking
uncontrollably.

   Only Ivy's strength kept her body up, her free arm wrapped around her
bare waist as Harley wheezed powerfully, struggling to get her breath back.
Ivy took a moment to watch her baby recover, her eyes half-open, her
sweat-soaked hair matted to her forehead, her painfully erect nipples, one
of them shining with her spit, resting atop her heaving breasts, her
irregularly expanding stomach, heaving with every deep breath, and her
blushing, pulsing snatch, doing everything it could to keep her fingers
locked away inside, almost visibly pleading with her to stay.

   "Love ya," Harleen whispered, her eyes shining with moisture.

   Pamela Isley chuckled at her girlfriend's out-of-zone look, kissing the
bridge of her nose.  "I love you too, Harls."

   She squirmed as Ivy slowly pulled out of her, and sighed as her girlcum
gushed down her lover's arm, her clear fluids spilling to the floor.  "That
was...  different."

   Harry released his fist from his slicked hardness, groaning tiredly. 
"Tell me about it."

   "Never seen two girls go at it?" Ivy questioned with a smirk.

   Harry shook his head.  "There's a difference between seeing two girls
and seeing you two," he muttered, staring pointedly at their lovely,
curvaceous forms.  "Harley just makes the cutest noises when she squeals,
and no offense Ivy, but you have an...  /exotic/ vibe about you."

   Pamela laughed heartily.  "None taken; I get that often."

   Harley weakly raised her hand.  "I say it often.  Green's my favorite
color for a reason." She eyed her girlfriend uneasily.  "Are we...  okay?"

   Ivy shrugged.  "If you're going to ask for two lovers, you're going to
have to take the brunt; so to speak.  Don't worry," she smiled, "I have
salves."

   Harley shivered delightfully, and winced.  "Don't /tease/ me like that,
Red.  I might have to walk on my hands for the next few days."

   "I'd kiss it all better, but I don't think that'll help much."

   She winced again, and she lowered her hand to cup her sensitive
womanhood.  "/Red!/"

   "I do remember us mentioning something last night," Harry muttered
slowly, his eyes roving over her irresistible cuteness.  "And I promised
you later."

   Her eyes widened, and she instinctively went to cover her rear. 
"Nuh-uh! No!  /Hell no/!"

   Ivy laughed at her reaction.  "What did I miss?  I was a bit
pre-occupied at the time."

   "He scared the bejesus out of me, and I called him an ass." She narrowed
her eyes at him.  "He has an active imagination."

   Pamela flushed.  "At least he didn't put a finger there." She smirked at
him.  "So you're an ass-man, Harry?"

   His steely dick pulsed imperceptibly.  "Honestly?  I'm just greedy."

   Her lips pouted.  "Greedy?  Looking for a hat-trick on /our/ dear
Harley, Warlock?"

   "No way, José!" Harleen shook her head wildly.  "Not while these chairs
are still cushion-less!"

   "It wasn't a command or anything," Harry grinned, guessing that she
probably would have allowed him if he commanded it.  "Just a suggestion. 
Magic makes it more enjoyable.  I had assumed you were more...  creative
with the vines in the past."

   Harley /eep/ed and crossed her thighs, still in Ivy's embrace.  The
green-eyed woman nuzzled her chin into her girlfriend's neck.  "I don't
have good control when I'm in the throes of passion," Ivy explained. 
"They're good at tying her down, but...  I couldn't live with myself if I
did something wrong."

   "Not to mention the thorns," the blonde muttered, hiding her face in
Ivy's luscious red hair.  "I have no intentions of being a jester shish
kebob."

   "You practically were this morning," Ivy reminded her, recalling the
last time they had sex.

   Well, when Harry and Harley had sex.

   She gently leaned Harley against the leg of her chair and turned her
attention to the man in front of her, licking her lips at his still erected
staff.  "I suppose there's no running from it now, is there?" She wondered,
a twinkle in her eye.

   Harry looked down, then back at the green-skinned beauty mere feet away
from his towering erection.

   He stepped away from the counter, and before she could even think of
protesting, leaned down to his knee and grabbed her by her waist.  She
squeaked loudly, louder than any of Harley's squeals, as she was hoisted
into the air, her heart pounding as he pressed his lips to hers.

   She moaned as he rubbed at her soaking petals once more, feeling her
wetness drip down his fingers quickly.  She hesitantly reached down and
grabbed the shaft below her, stroking however much she could reach, which
was still a rather substantial amount.

   Pamela leaned back, a small string of saliva connecting their lips, and
looked up to Harry.  Green eyes peered into green eyes, and for the first
time, it clicked.

   She could trust him.  She could love him.  And someday, very soon, she
could very well absolutely /need/ him.

   She used her sweat-slicked body to wiggle down onto the tip of his cock,
her hand pumping and directing his tool towards her dripping canal, and she
groaned at the sensation of his heat between her thighs.

   Harry grunted at the teaser of what was to come, as she languidly slid
her tiny crevice against his massive rod, purring quietly with each little
swipe.  He connected his lips to hers as he pushed inside her, two inches
sinking into her writhing body immediately.

   She gurgled sexily - he didn't know how she did it, but she most
definitely did - and wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around
his neck, locking her fingers and rubbing at his nape.  "/Yes/," she
hissed, gyrating on his cock salaciously.

   Harry lowered his hands from her waist to her curvaceous bottom, sliding
over the soft, firm cheeks of her fleshy orbs.  He gripped the bottom of
her ass tightly, pulling apart her cheeks, and prepared to fill her to the
brim.

   She whimpered, needy, and closed her eyes as Harry penetrated deep into
her, slipping along her tight, glorious walls and stretched out her slick
cavern.

   Both groaned, their breaths heaving, and it was Ivy who began to move
up, hooking her arms around the back of Harry's shoulders, before dropping
her light body back down.

   Harleen cooed at the wondrous sight before her.  She loved it when her
friends got along.  Standing up with shaky legs, she collapsed on the chair
behind her, taking Ivy's seat.  She grunted in surprise and looked down.

   A padded chair; a /wonderfully/ padded chair.

   She chuckled as she slid her fingers gently across her sore spot, slowly
bending her leg up to rest her chin on her knee, the heel of her foot on
the seat.

   If anyone could pull a hat-trick, it was the Warlock.  And, by the
lovely, mystified expression on her Pammy's face, she idly wondered who
would buckle first.

   She tingled unexpectedly when her pointer finger brushed against her
clitoris, and she spasmed.  Apparently, /that/ wasn't sore.

   With this in mind, the blonde sat back in her new cushioned chair and
happily frigged her nub at the alluring sight of her lovely, curvaceous
girlfriend being speared into by her handsome, well-hung boyfriend.

   Over in the sitting room, Luna turned off their mirror, completely
forgetting her question, and her congratulations to Harry for not getting
himself killed for a full twenty-four hours.  She shrugged helplessly, her
naked breasts bouncing perkily, and retreated back into the thighs of her
lovely mistress.

   ------------------------

   *~Several Years Earlier, in a world a skip or two away~*

   The dark brown-haired boy stepped off the boat and held his hand out.

   "Such a gentleman," she remarked, giggling as she jumped off the boat,
their hands linked.

   Harry shrugged.  "Not really.  I got you those shoes; I don't want
anything happening to them."

   "Prat."

   He smiled.  "No, I'm just cheap."

   "You didn't even pay for these!"

   "I'm /really/ cheap."

   She laughed again.  He had always liked that laugh.  "Sure.  You did it
because you're cheap."

   "I can't think of any other reason," Harry said slyly.

   "Oh, get a room you two," Daphne muttered, climbing awkwardly out of the
boat.  Harry quickly went to her assistance, and she gratefully smiled. 
She watched as Harry held out his hand for Susan and Cho as well.

   "Any chance you could get me a pair of shoes, too?" Susan smiled
sweetly, fluttering her eyelids.

   Cho tilted her head over to the brunette.  "I don't think she would like
that."

   Hermione rolled her eyes.  The three had been teasing them the entire
train ride, ever since they walked in on her sitting on Harry's lap,
reading a book.  It was something they had done for a while, at this point,
and it was completely innocent, but they all found it quite funny.  "Let's
go.  Harry, I think the sorting will start soon.  You won't get another
chance alone."

   Harry glanced around at the children who were otherwise distracted by
the magnificent sight that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
for the first time in their lives.  He saw Hagrid, who was corralling the
boats onto the shore.  "I suppose it's as good as a time as any." He shook
his head wildly, the long locks of chestnut hair spinning loosely.

   "What are you - oh!" Susan squeaked, now getting a good look at his
hair. The brown hair was now black, the glow of the lanterns floating
around them all making it easy to see the slightly changed colouring.

   "A Glamour charm?" Daphne inquired, and Harry nodded.  "Why?"

   "I'm trying to keep a low profile - it's something Padfoot taught me a
few weeks ago.  I can hide my scar easy, but people would still notice."

   "Your...  scar?" Cho said slowly, enraptured by the boy's bright green
eyes that she was just /positive/ wasn't there before.

   Susan gasped.  "Harry?  Harry...  Potter?"

   The Boy-Who-Lived held his finger to his lips and winked.

   "You're supposed to be missing, or /dead/," Daphne whispered, shocked
that she was standing near him, let alone talking to him for the past few
hours on the train.

   "I am," he explained cheekily.  "I've been allowed by the 'beings that
are' to visit Hogwarts for one day, to see how my life could have been,
with the best company I could find."

   Hermione swatted his shoulder.  "They've already seen a ghost.  You
don't need to spook them."

   "So when you joked about breaking your Godfather out of jail..." Susan
whispered, her skin white.

   Harry shook his head.  "It was a joke.  He was also completely innocent.
If I didn't know for a fact, I wouldn't have broken him out."

   "You really did break Sirius Black out?" Cho urgently asked him, her
voice pitching, her volume low.  "But you just said you were joking!"

   "Oh, no.  I wasn't joking.  I was referring to the security system of
Azkaban."

   Susan looked ready to faint, and Cho looked primed to drop soon after.
Daphne, however, had a wide grin on her face.  "You are /not/ what I
expected you to be."

   "Last I checked, you expected me to be dead." He raised his hand. 
"Harry Potter."

   She immediately shook it.  "Daphne Greengrass.  Pleased to meet the
Boy-Who-Lived-Then-Died."

   He frowned.  "My friends just call me 'Harry'."

   "I didn't know I was your friend," she feigned shock, fanning herself
with her other hand.

   "I'm calling you my friend, not my concubine," he said cheekily, and
chuckled when her cheeks flushed.

   The redhead of the group took a deep breath.  "I'm Susan Bones.  Nice to
meet you - again." Harry gently released Daphne's hand in favor of shaking
Susan's outstretched palm.

   "If I may ask," Cho asked hesitantly, "Why isn't he exonerated if he
didn't commit a crime?  Why tell us that he didn't do anything if you
didn't tell anyone else?"

   Harry shrugged.  "More fun this way to have it revealed when we get the
real guy.  Sirius is a bit of a prankster."

   "We?" Cho muttered weakly.

   "Harry and I," Hermione chimed in, "will be catching him.  We've already
seen him on the train.  He's absolutely powerless and helpless right now.
Especially seeing as he doesn't have a wand."

   "Sounds interesting," Daphne admitted.  "I hope to see you still alive
when it's all said and done."

   "If there's a guarantee I'll live, it wouldn't be as fun."

   Hermione swatted at his arm once again, and he dodged it.  "Prat!"

   "This..." Susan started, as she saw the brunette chase her friend all
the way to the castle, "...is going to be an interesting year."

   "Certainly more interesting than last year," Cho breathed, "and I don't
know if that's good or bad."

   "If you knew, it wouldn't be as fun," Daphne mimicked, her grin refusing
to go anywhere.  "I hope he lets me tell Tracey about this!"

   "I think he will," Susan speculated.  "And the twins.  We were all in
the same compartment."

   There was a small pause as they began the trek towards the school,
leaving Hagrid and the gang of first years behind.  They had a relative
guess as to where they were headed.

   "Is anyone else going to point out that he knows what a concubine is?"
Daphne wondered innocently, drawing looks of recognition.

   "Black is an ancient and noble house," Susan shrugged, "so I'm sure
Harry's read some books.  What intrigues me is the fact that he
specifically asked you to be a concubine."

   Daphne tilted her head towards the pair of obvious misfits, who were now
struggling to out-tickle each other.  "I think the role of anything higher
is rather taken at this point."

   Cho looked scandalized at the thought.  "They're /first years/!"

   "First years that broke a wanted man out of the maximum security ward of
a prison that has /never/ been broken out of.  Your point?"

   Susan giggled at Cho's fish imitation.  "In her defense, I don't think
they know that they like each other yet."

   Cho looked over to Harry's high-pitched laughter as he was tickled
mercilessly by Hermione.  He hugged her close to him to lock her arms, and
they fell to the ground, laughing.  "It's funny," The pretty Asian girl
noted.  "They're in front of the most amazing castle I've ever seen, and
they didn't take a second glance at it."

   Susan stopped.  "/I/ didn't even take a second glance at it." She looked
at the school, the glowing magnificence, well aware of the history this
building represented.  And she looked back at the couple; Hermione had her
hands locked behind her back as Harry grinned at them, his chin resting on
her shoulder.

   "Caught her," Harry said happily, completely ignoring his captive's
squeals of laughter.  Hermione made no real attempt to escape his clutches,
instead moving to whip her hair around, continuously slapping his face with
her wild bushy brown hair.  Harry winced every time, but he held firm, his
grin wide.

   "I've said it before - get a room," Daphne chuckled, watching their
flushed cheeks burn with exertion.  "For someone trying to be low-key,
don't you think you'd try to be...  low-key?"

   Hermione slung her hair over to her other side once more, then craned
her neck to Harry.  "I blame you."

   Harry grinned and blew a small breath onto her neck, and she gasped and
shivered.  "It's not too late.  We've got an impression to make."

   Unthinkingly, Hermione craned her neck and kissed his cheek.  "Let's go,
then."
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