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Harriet opened her eyes with a start.
Today was the day.
She threw the covers off, scrambling out of bed to jerk the curtains open and winced at the sudden onslaught of sunlight. Sunlight was good. It meant she wouldn’t have to barrel through any spontaneous downpours. Her eyes darted over to the clock on the mantelpiece, showing only ten till 9.
Harrie could work with that.
She rummaged through the armoire to find her grass-stained pants among dozens of skirts and dresses that Harrie would rather burn than wear. Plucking her pants from the bottom-most drawer, she hastily put them on under her long nightgown. They were longer than the hem of her skirt, but she could easily roll them up. Gracelessly hopping into the bathroom, Harrie put her hair up in a sloppy bun and quickly brushed her teeth, glancing at the clock every ten seconds.
Only six minutes to go.
Leaving the tap on, she ducked her head out of the bathroom to double-check that she was alone. She moved to the toilet, lifting the lid off the tank and fishing out the key to her escape. It was a silver spoon lovingly sharpened on the granite countertop for over three days. Harrie ran her finger along the handle. It was still blunt by shiv standards, she mused, but it was sharp enough to work for what she had to do. She set the spoon on the counter and heaved the lid back into place. She glanced back at the clock.
Four minutes left.
Now for the gross part. Harrie grabbed a towel from under the sink, twisting it into a tight wad, and proceeded to shove it into the toilet as far down as she could with a disgusted grimace. Straightening up, she gave it a test flush. Water started to overflow out of the bowl and onto the dark tiles. Harrie grinned in triumph.
Two minutes left.
She clambered to sit on top of the tank, flushing several more times as she rolled up her pants legs so they disappeared beneath her nightgown. By then, water had completely covered the bathroom floor and started seeping into the plush carpet of the bedroom.
Thirty seconds left.
Harrie grabbed her spoon and rushed back to the bed, toes unpleasantly squelching on the wet carpet. She sat on the edge of the bed, covering her spoon with the corner of the comforter.
Fifteen seconds left.
Harrie double checked to make sure her jeans weren’t showing.
Ten seconds left.
She tried to smooth her expression into something less calculating.
Five seconds left.
Harrie took a deep breath. It had to work.
The clock chimed nine.
It had to.
Wiffey the elf entered the room with a loud crack. She was right on time with her breakfast, bowing low as she presented Harrie her scrambled eggs and toast. Her already bulbous eyes widened to a comical extent when she saw the state of the bathroom, bat-like ears drooping in horror.
“I need you to get Lucius,” Harrie said, managing to sound properly alarmed. With another low bow and an “of course, Miss Potter,” Whiffey left the room with a snap.
Harrie took several deep breaths and tried to calm her racing heart. A few minutes later, Lucius stormed into the room, looking entirely too haughty for a man who had rushed across the manor in cornflower blue pajamas. Harrie had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep a straight face. She wondered if all the Malfoys felt the need to sleep in business suits. He sneered at Harrie and made a beeline for the bathroom. A disgusted “bwah” rang out, followed by an utterly furious Lucius emerging from the bathroom. He marched right up to where Harrie was sitting with a vengeance.
“What is the meaning of this?” he seethed, face turning an unpleasant shade of red.
“I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about.” Harrie forced her expression into the blank stare she liked to wear when Vernon used to yell at her.
Lucius sputtered for a moment, mouth quirking down in a deep frown before stretching into a seemingly polite smile that was truly painful to behold.
“And how, may I ask, did a towel get in the toilet?” he questioned. His eye was twitching and Harrie could just make out a thin vein pulsing in his forehead. Harrie inched her fingers closer to the spoon.
In the most mocking tone she could manage, Harrie said, “I dunno,” carelessly shrugging her shoulders and closing her hand around the spoon. With an enraged snarl, Lucius invaded the gap between them to grab the tops of Harrie's arms.
“Why you little--” he snarled, roughly shaking her. Before he could finish the thought, Harrie stabbed the handle of her spoon into the space just above his knee-cap.
Lucius released her with a pained shout, hands going to the spoon buried in his leg. Harrie pushed him away from her, firmly knocking him on his arse, and made a break for it.
She ran out of the room, shutting the doors behind her as she tried to figure out where to go. Going to the right was no good, she thought. There was nothing but more corridor and some stairs. Going to the left was--
Thank sweet Morgana. Some beautiful moron left the window open at the end of the corridor.
“POTTER!”
Harrie heard a muffled shout from the other side of the door. Without further hesitation, she picked up her skirt and bolted towards the end of the hallway, bare feet pounding on the floor.
She braced her hands on the windowsill, glancing down to see how long of a drop it was. Harrie briefly wondered how much damage a two-story drop could do. She shook her head with a determined huff. There was a bush below to break her fall.
It would be fine.
Harrie had just put her leg over the side when Lucius barged out of the room, now spoon-free and with strands of platinum hair hanging in his face. The wand in his hand was furiously spitting out red sparks. He looked like he very much wanted to strangle her.
Heart pounding in her chest, Harrie threw her other leg over and jumped.
She crashed into the bushes below. Dozens of thorns scratched and bit into her skin, drawing blood. She scrambled to right herself, only to have her stupid fucking nightgown get caught. With a pained wince, Harrie unceremoniously flopped onto the grass, roughly pulling on the skirt. Her mangled nightgown came free with a loud rip, tearing off most of the skirt and making Harrie stumble back.
“You get back here, young lady!” Lucius shouted down at her with his head sticking out of the window. She managed to dodge the red streak of light he threw at her. It hit the ground mere inches away from her toes, kicking up small clumps of grass and dirt.
God bless Lucius’s shitty aim.
With a cheeky smirk and two middle fingers, Harrie picked up the tattered remains of her skirt and sprinted across the wide lawn towards the tree line with an absolutely livid Lucius shouting after her. She felt the grass tickle her feet and the sunshine on her face. She grinned for the first time in ages.
The wards ended only a few feet past the treeline. Her heart leapt into her throat at the thought of seeing Ron and Hermione again.
She was so close.
Suddenly, her foot collided with a solid object that had her face slamming into the ground with a startled squawk. An ungodly screeching noise assaulted her ears. Pain pounded through her skull and in her mouth; she must have bitten her tongue. Harrie forced her scratched and bruised limbs to push herself up with a groan.
Harrie turned her throbbing head to see what had tripped her up.
A white peacock laid on the grass, wings flailing about and wailing as if it had been shot.
“Motherfucker,” Harrie breathed.
“So, what were you planning to do once you got past the wards?” Harrie swiveled her head back, the movement making her dizzy, to see a thoroughly annoyed dark lord glaring down at her with his hands planted on his hips. Harrie had to crane her neck up to look him in the eye. Damn him, why did he have to be so bloody tall?
“Keep running until I got to civilization,” she said, spitting out bits of grass and blood.
Voldemort let out a deeply beleaguered sigh, moving to pinch the bridge of his nose, only to remember he didn’t have one. Harrie snorted at the gesture. At least she wasn’t the only one having a shit day. Voldemort shot her an irritated glare out of the corner of his eye that was not nearly as intimidating as usual.
“I don’t know what else I expected, really,” Voldemort conceded. He leaned down to help Harrie up, frowning at just how much she managed to hurt herself in one escape attempt. If abruptly standing up didn’t make her so nauseous, Harrie would’ve smacked him away and bolted. But as is, she let him pull her up as she leaned on him for support. Firmly grasping Harrie’s shoulders, Voldemort apparated them back to the manor without another word.