Work Text:
• Hazbin Hotel - Loser, Baby
• The Weepies - Can't Go Back Now
“This is bullshit,” Miles grumbled, words slurred by the alcohol he had ingested in the past hour.
Next to him, leaning heavily on Miles, was Harry Potter. The Gryffindor fifth year was in no better state. In fact, he seemed to have already lost his fight against tipsiness. No surprise, here, Miles mused. Gryffindors were such goody-two-shoes. He had heard of the parties held there and knew that the twins had the means to get their hands on alcohol, but the most they brought there were butterbeers and Firewhiskey. This, Miles thought as he handed Harry another shot of vodka, was a much better way to get completely wasted.
Miles had left school earlier that day because he needed to relax, far, far away from that terrible woman and her terrible rules. Harry had sneaked out for the same reason, although neither expected to find the other in the closest Muggle bar they could find. Somehow, they had put aside their differences (their House, mainly) and gotten around to drinking at a table in the corner of the bar. With Miles old enough to use magic outside of school with no trouble, nobody questioned their age. Miles secretly wondered how Harry had managed to sneak in without anyone questioning him before, because he didn't look old enough to be here.
Still, now they were working their way through the shots they had ordered.
They would probably regret it in the morning.
They would definitely regret it, morning come, but for now, Miles mused, they were going to get drunk enough to forget what an awful year it was.
It was!
“Merlin, I hate my parents.”
“Hear, hear!” Harry echoed him, because he had become Harry in the past hour.
Miles gave him a look.
“You didn't even know yours. How can you hate them?”
Harry didn't look up from his glass.
“Well, they had to go and piss off a freakin' dark lord and got themselves killed because they liked Dumbles so much,” he said, words slurring worse than Miles. “And because it wasn't bad enough, I got landed with the Dark Lord in question.”
Miles tilted his head, trying unsuccessfully to clear his mind.
“Huh, yeah. That makes sense.”
“Why d'you hate yours?”
Miles ignored the glass in front of him and instead grabbed the bottle he had bought at some point (he couldn't really remember when). He uncorked the bottle cap and took a long sip.
“They're in love with the Dark Tosser. They said that I'm going to join them. Ha! As if that was in my plans.”
Harry snorted at the nickname Miles had found to refer to Voldemort. Before they had worked their way through the first few shots, Miles had told him that in the First War, Voldemort put a taboo on his name so that his army could track down people who dared to say his name. Harry would have liked to be told that before today; it was a hassle to learn to unsay it now that he had gotten so used to pronouncing it.
“Your parents sound like assholes,” Harry told Miles when the older boy handed him the bottle.
Miles snorted.
“Yeah. They are. I just want them to fuck off already and leave me alone.”
Harry snickered.
“Yeah. I just want to get the Hell out of this country.”
Through a veil of lucidity and probable insanity as well, Miles opened his mouth:
“Why don't you?”
Harry blinked slowly and turned his head to face him.
“Huh?”
“Leave. Why don't you leave if you're so sick of this place?”
“... Why don't you?”
“I asked first.”
Harry contemplated his answer at the bottom of his glass.
“I don't have impulse-control. I'd probably get myself killed if I travelled alone.”
At that, he glanced at Miles in the corner of his eyes, and Miles didn't know if he was supposed to understand something or if his half-addled brain imagined things, but he blurted out:
“I could come with you!”
A few heads turned towards them at the loud exclamation, only to look away upon seeing nothing interesting.
Miles looked around with wariness before leaning towards to whisper:
“I could come with you.”
Harry giggled, mostly because he felt Miles' breath against his cheek and because he was more than a little tipsy.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Somehow, the 'you' had morphed into a 'we', and before they knew it, the two boys were planning their imaginary escape.
Except... the next weekend, they were gone.
They took the Hogwarts Express with those who were going home for Christmas. Miles used a light glamour spell on his and Harry's faces, and they were off. Harry wasn't supposed to leave for Christmas, see? So nobody was looking out for him at Platform 9 ¾. As for Miles, it had been a long time since his parents welcomed him back on the platform for Christmas break.
The thing was, Miles reflected as they were boarding a train for France, until a few days ago, neither Harry nor he himself was sure they would actually go through with the plan they had started concocting when they were drunk. There were so many things to consider, and, well, they had been drunk. Sure, one would say that alcohol tended to loosen the tongues, and they weren't wrong. Still, there were a lot of things to consider. In the end, though, their will to leave it all behind won over everything else.
Nobody paid them attention, be it in the Magical or the Muggle World. They were just two teenagers hanging out.
“I can't believe we're doing it,” Harry said a couple of days later while they were waiting for their plane to Athens.
Miles snorted.
“Isn't it time you digest it? We've been gone for a few days already.”
Harry grinned.
“I know, I know. It's just...”
“A bit of a hard thing to process?” Miles offered as he sat down next to him, on top of their Muggle-sized trunks.
Harry sighed and leaned against Miles.
“Yeah,” he said. “It's not... It's not a bad thing. I'm glad we left,” he whispered. “It's just hard to believe that we did it, that we got out.”
“I'm glad we did it,” Miles said.
Sure, the dark army might come after him (if they ever deemed it important enough to after anyone telling them to fuck off), but he was free. He still felt both hurt and angry at his friends for telling him to suck it up, just like them, and obey his parents. He had always been a bit of a rebellious boy. He always asked questions instead of just obeying blindly. Was it any surprise that he did his research and got both sides of things before choosing a side? Before deciding that he didn't agree with either side and didn't want anything to do with any of it?
Was it any surprise that he would get the fuck out of the way at the first chance? Especially when someone agrees to run with him?
Nobody realised that either was missing at first. The Bletchleys were certain that Miles was avoiding them and, in a rebellious fit, had decided to stay with one of his friends. Ron, Hermione, and the others thought that he was at Hogwarts, while the teachers still present at Hogwarts (coincidentally, Dumbledore and McGonagall were both out of the school at the moment) were under the impression that Mr Potter was home. He replied to their letters as if nothing had changed, until the last letter before school started again, upon which Miles insisted they pay for a service so that owls couldn't track them down. Harry had long since gotten used to the wand he had gotten in a small shop in Switzerland. He still had his Holly and phoenix wand, but he would avoid using that one until he was seventeen and the Trace was gone. Miles had told him they could pay to have the Trace removed, but he had also told him that the people who did that were usually shady. That was not the problem. The problem was that privacy was only warranted to a point, and if an investigation was launched on the person doing this for them, for whatever reason, it could come out that he removed the trace to one underage person. While it wouldn't give away his identity, you never know how good the investigators would be. So, no need to risk things unnecessarily. Harry quite liked his new wand anyway.
Nobody realised that anything was amiss until the day the Hogwarts Express came back to Hogsmeade, and suddenly, both Harry's and Miles' friends were freaking out, calling the teachers to alert them. That not one but two students went missing around the same time was a shock. Especially since, as far as people knew, those two didn't know each other as anything more than Quidditch opponents.
Amelia Bones and her Aurors were not impressed when they found out that both students had last been seen the day of the start of Yule Break, and not just before the start of the school year, yesterday, as they had been told before.
Hit-wizards (Bounty Hunters) Kashif Shafiq and Thomas Selwyn were slightly more impressed when they found out how that came to be. If there was something positive to be said about the British Ministry of Magic, it was that the members of the DMLE did not give up easily. In the first week following the 'official' disappearance of Hogwarts Students Miles Bletchley and Harry Potter, they found out that two boys fitting their physical description had been sighted in a Muggle Bar close to Hogsmeade. The two boys were completely wasted by the time they left the place, but a few customers told Auror Julienne Delrose and Hitwizard Shafiq that the boys had been heard making plans to 'leave it all behind and get the fuck out of that Hellhole'. If that was not huge progress? It certainly indicated that the boys knew each other and had willingly left, instead of being kidnapped, or Bletchley kidnapping the Potter heir, as some rumours had said.
When Amelia Bones told the press -because they had to give something away, and at this point, they knew that Bletchley had not taken the Potter heir against his will- that the boys (because even if the Bletchley Heir was of age and could disappear if he wanted to, his disappearence had still been treated as 'worrying' at first, and had to be investigated too) had, à priori, left willingly together, she did not expect the rumours, and the press, to turn in into: they had eloped.
Oh. Well. At least, it changed from the smear campaign that has been launched against the Potter heir since the beginning of the year. For some reason, Fudge had all but abandoned that and decided to focus all his attention on Dumbledore. Finally, Amelia thought. Finally, Fudge decided to go against someone closer to his age instead of trying to have a pissing contest with a fifteen-year-old boy who didn't ask for anything.
If their investigation into Mr Potter's disappearance also led to Madam Umbridge's arrest, well, she would not be missed. Of course, they had to keep an eye on things because, while Amelia privately thought that the Potter heir was safer wherever he was, he was still underage and therefore had been reported missing by the people who knew him. Neither she nor her employees thought they would find him, especially not if he was helped by an older person who knew much more about the magical world than he did. They also wouldn't get much help from the other magical communities, not after the way Fudge had fumbled his way into power and almost shattered Magical Britain's international relationships with other countries. Still, they had to keep an eye on things.
By April, the news was still related and gossiped about Potter's disappearance, but panic emerged when the Dark Lord made his dramatic (and very accidental) return early May, in the middle of the Ministry atrium. Yes, it was all very dramatic. Especially because one of his Death Eaters tripped on the Dark Lord's robes and they all got an eyeful.
(It would have been more funny, had the Dark Lord not lost it due to embarrassment and proceeded to kill a dozen ministry employees.)
Yes, Amelia mused, as she read the headlines about You-Know-Who being back. Potter was far safer where he was. She had no doubt that, had he stayed here, the public would have cried for his help. As it was, the Daily Prophet could only relay that the boy had been correct and that the Dark Lord was indeed back.
They rented a car in Düsseldorf and went on their merry way. Driving on the right side was a bit of an adjustment, but Miles, at least, knew how to drive. Sure, he didn't technically have a driving licence, but he had a forged one, good enough to pass for a real one. Harry was a fun copilot. He didn't get angry when they were stuck in traffic and laughed at Miles' increasingly creative insults whenever a driver cut them off (1). He tended to fall asleep, though, so Miles knew better than to just count on him to help him navigate. He didn't begrudge him, though, since he knew all about Harry's nightmare-related trouble.
They got to know each other on the road, inside a gray Audi while they were journeying through Lower Saxony, on a train to another country, whenever they were lying across their twin beds, unable to sleep. Whenever Miles had to take a break from driving, they would park the car somewhere and sit on its roof. Miles learned that Harry wasn't a talker. Sure, he could ramble sometimes, if he was hyperfixating on a subject, really interested in something, or just nervous, but there would always be times when he would be quiet. Miles didn't mind: he could talk for two. Besides, Harry might not be much of a talker, but he listened, really listened. He would let Miles talk about this or that and ask a couple of questions when Miles was done. Questions actually related to what Miles was saying. It was refreshing. His own friends tended to ignore him whenever he went on a tengent. Terence tried, but even he couldn't quite muster the interest.
“Miles,” Harry started, one evening while they were lying on the roof of their rented Peugeot 306.
Miles opened one eye only to close it just as soon when he caught a ray of sunlight. The sun was slowly setting, but that didn't stop him from blinking several times.
“Hm?”
“Thank you.”
Turning his head towards Harry, he opened one eye again. The other boy was lying on his back, with his eyes closed. He looked peaceful like this, more relaxed than Miles had ever seen him.
He felt his cheeks heat up and closed his eyes.
“For what?”
Harry didn't reply immediately, but when he did, his soft voice drifted to him as if he was about to doze off.
“For giving me the strength to leave. For suggesting we run away together. For not leaving me alone. I dunno. I just... Thank you, Miles.”
The former Slytherin felt his eyes sting, and when he looked back at Harry, the other boy was blushing faintly, but still kept his eyes closed.
Kiss him, a voice (that sounded suspiciously like Peregrine) told him.
Miles hesitated. Harry opened his eyes and glanced at him. Mischief danced in his green orbs, and Miles felt his lips quirk upward.
Later, he told himself as he grabbed Harry's wrist and closed his eyes, grinning. They had all the time in the world.
(And maybe they had the Dark Army after them, but what's life without a little bit of stress?)