A Dark Time For The Light

51

Monday morning at work and Steffie pounced on Harry in the first quiet moment at breaktime, “Look at the state of you. Good weekend was it?”, she smirked. Harry blushed and chuckled, “Bloody brilliant actually. Thanks for bringing the charlie on Saturday. It gave me a moment to remember watching my ex-teacher hoover it up”, he shook his head a moment, grinning, then turned to a more serious topic, “Stef?”. She looked up, “Yes”. “The party depleted our supplies a bit and we could do with a bit more, no rush, like, but if we could sort out this arrangement, you know, like you said”.

She inwardly praised his discretion and nodded, “I’ll give her a call tonight for you. If you can sort your mates out. I don’t think she wants a gaggle of you dropping by at all times, but if you can get your friends’ orders, she’ll split it for you”. Harry was okay with that and said so. Break over and it was back to work for both of them.

On Friday, he was dropped off with Steffie. He walked back to her flat with her, a two bedroom apartment on the first floor of a modern block. He slipped his work clothes off to reveal his jeans and t-shirt as his hostess excused herself and went for a shower. Harry amused himself in her absence by trying to get to know her two cats, a sleek black and white male and his sister, a bowling ball of a thing, a brindled tortie. She laughed at his ministrations as she re-entered towelling her hair, the tom having his belly tickled.

“You’ll meet more of the family later. Alice is my best mate and she has these two’s brother and their mum”. Harry tried to entice the female but the little fat thing was having none of it and stayed beyond arms length. After a cup of tea and a pipe of hash, they set off. Her friend lived only a couple of streets away and they ambled over.

Steffie rang the bell of a small terraced house in a street full of similar properties. A tall man answered. At least three inches taller than Ron, skinny as a rake, rimless glasses on his nose and not a hair on his head. He welcomed them in, and Steffie locked the door behind them. They were ushered into the middle ground floor room. A couple of other people were sitting around.

There was a woman sitting cross-legged on the floor before the fire unpacking scales from a battered box and a dark haired man sitting on the sofa. Steffie marched in and, bending, kissed the woman on the cheek, “Alice, this is my colleague, Harry”. The woman held her hand out and Harry shook it, “Hi, I’m Alice and this is my husband, Tony”, she indicated the man who had let them in, “And this is Matt”, she nodded to the man on the sofa.

Harry shook hands with them and his brow creased as he regarded the dark haired man, “I think I’ve seen you before”, he ventured, “But I’m buggered if I can remember where”. This broke the ice a bit and Harry shook the man’s hand as he said, “I’m a nurse, if that helps”. Harry’s eyes widened as he mentioned the hospital he had been in after his accident. Matt grinned, “I remember you now. Motorcycle accident. Gorgeous blond boyfriend”. Harry blushed and nodded, “The very same. Nice to see you again”.

Steffie patted Harry’s knee, “S’alright, Harry, this is a very gay-friendly household”. He relaxed. Tony put some music on and made tea or coffee. He passed his wife a glass of water, then brewed up for the rest of them. Alice turned the fire on, then stuck the largest piece of hash that Harry had ever seen between the bars to warm and soften enough for cutting, then balanced her scales, setting the bowls atop the arms, “How much, babe?”, she addressed Matt, “Can I just do a cheeky eighth, sweetheart?, no brass ‘til next week”, she rolled her eyes and, touching the piece as it sat in the fire, determined it was warmed enough and sliced off a small sliver setting it on the scales. Just right. She allowed herself a small smile, popped the hash into a plastic bag, pressed it closed and handed it to her friend.

“Okay, Miss, what’s yer poison?”. Steffie took the warmed lump and sniffed it, “Mmm, same price as normal?”. Alice nodded. “Okay. I’ll take an ounce”. Harry watched as she cut the piece and laid it in the bowl. Just then he was nudged and Matt handed him a joint, he took a drag and coughed his lungs up, “Oh, shit, sorry, it’s got tobacco in”, Matt took the joint from Harry and Steffie went in the kitchen to get a glass of water. Alice proffered her own and Harry gratefully drank.

When he could breathe again, he apologised. Alice said, “Don’t apologise for being a non-smoker, Harry, it’s a filthy habit, we’ve plenty of non-tobacco smoking devices in this house”. Harry’s chest hurt and he breathed past it. Steffie and Matt were talking with Tony about a new piece of electronic kit and Alice patted the ground, inviting Harry to sit beside her. He complied and she smiled at him.

“It’s nice to meet you at long last, Harry. Stef’s told me all sorts about you”. Harry started but she held her palms out to him in a calming gesture, “She’s my best mate as is Matt”. She watched the wariness in Harry’s face relax a little. “It’s alright, I’m not going to ask you to demonstrate your abilities. I know there is an embargo on those on the run using Magic. I think it’s a fucking shame if you ask me”. She cocked her head slightly, then told him, “This is something I’ve never told anyone. I thought I was going to Hogwart’s, but never got the letter”.

Harry was astounded, “Another one. That’s three I’ve met so far. Demi-magiques, as a friend of mine called you. Those with real magical ability, but for some reason not quite up to the damned selection policy. May I ask, what year would you have been in?”. Alice smiled at his manners, “From what Steffie told me of your ex-teachers after last weekend, I suspect we would have been fifth and lower sixth to your teacher’s first years”. Harry was agog.

Alice changed tack, “How are your lungs feeling, Harry?. Are you all right?”. “My chest is still a bit tight, but I’m okay”. She grinned at him, “If you don’t smoke tobacco then how do you normally smoke?”. Harry pondered, “I’ve had the occasional pipe of hash but mainly blunts of the weed”. Alice sighed, “I wish I could get a decent supply of weed, but I mainly do hash”. She grinned at him then, a glint in her eye. “I’ve got a method of smoking. It’s a bit intense but it gives the best bang for the buck, so to speak. Come on, let me show you”.

They both stood and she led him into the kitchen. Drawing a lighter from her pocket, she lit a ring on the stove, spreading some long thin scissor-like contraption apart and placing both halves into the flames. “Tongs. To be precise, Marcel hair waving tongs from the twenties and thirties. Ladies used to curl their hair with them. I put them to a much more nefarious use”.

She nipped off a few tiny lumps and laid them out and Harry was reminded of the lines of coke in miniature. She called to the others and Matt and Steffie trooped in, Tony did bongs rather than tongs. Steffie picked up a glass bottle, intact but for a hole an inch in diameter drilled just above the base. Alice took the tongs out of the flames, the tips glowing orange, picked up a piece of hash and dropping it expertly into the groove, the two halves pressed together then into the bottle Stef held to her lips. Harry watched, fascinated.

The smoke was sipped in, then as Alice took the tongs away, a deep breath emptied the bottle of smoke. He watched Matt take one, then it was his turn. The tongs glowed and as Alice lifted them from the heat, she gently instructed him to breathe out then put the neck of the bottle to his lips, “Wait until I say so then sip the smoke in, the bottle needs to fill”. Harry nodded as he exhaled, and held the bottle as instructed. The smoke swirled in and filled it, “Start sipping, small breaths in. When I take the tongs out, a big breath in all the way down to your guts, then hold it”. As she removed the tongs, he followed to the letter, “Okay, breathe out now”, and he exhaled. Then coughed and coughed. As he quieted, Steffie offered him a sip of water, then he felt the hit. Alice was observing and smiled as he obviously reacted but didn’t white out on them.

“Bloody hell, that’s strong”, were his first words, when he felt capable of speech. Alice had them both back on the floor. When she sensed Harry more or less had his wits about him again, they did some business and she outlined her rules, “Never leave anyone outside, either in a car, or sat on the garden wall. If you have a lift, park them at least two streets away. I don’t mind you bringing your boyfriend with you, but anyone else and you need permission from me. I won’t offer you credit until I feel I know you better, so please don’t ask. I’ve been doing this for over 25 years, Harry, and I’d hate to be busted by someone doing something stupid. You can understand that, can’t you?”. Harry nodded, “Oh yes. I know you have rules. Steffie told me”.

She smiled at the boy before her, “How old are you, Harry, only I don’t serve junkies or minors?”. Harry grinned, “I’m 20 in a week’s time”. She smiled in return, “Happy Birthday for next week, then”. She made them all another drink, did another round of tongs that Harry politely declined.

Steffie walked him back to her flat. “I’m going to give you a lift back, you look fucked”. She laughed at the red-eyed gaze he turned on her. He was amazed. She’d had at least twice as much as he had and could still drive!. She led him to her car and he laughed aloud. She looked slightly hurt, but forgave him. “Whoa, Stef, what on earth is this?”, She hoisted her dignity in place and replied, “This is a vintage car, and famous, I’ll have you know. It was in a TV series set in the early 60’s. It’s a Morris Minor circa 1963 and it was a real Police car in it’s day. You see that zip in the ceiling lining?”. Harry looked up, and sure enough, there was a zip fastener in the fabric stretched over the ceiling. He nodded, “Yeah”. “You had to unzip that to connect the police blue light to the cigarette lighter”. That amused Harry no end as did the lumpy seats, the lack of suspension and the crap steering. As she pulled up outside of Harry’s flat, he asked, “Are you sure you’re not Magical Stef?, ‘cos this car has to be a Magical trying to be a Muggle”. Steffie wasn’t sure what he meant, but let him out with a grin, wishing him a good weekend and drove off.

Harry staggered up the stairs, the smell of cooking greeting him. He leaned against the wall, then his beloved pressed against him and kissed him. “Where were you?. I’ve held dinner up for an hour”. Harry opened his eyes and Draco divined in an instant how stoned his lover was, the whites of Harry’s eyes were bright pink. He purred, “Sorry, baby. I’ve just discovered tongs”, he emphasised the last word. Draco hadn’t a clue what his lover was on about. But when he kissed him, it was as if an electric shock poured through them.

He apologised to a pouting Draco who served dinner. Harry inhaled it. Draco still pouted until Harry fed him a bong of the new hash, reddening his lover’s eyes. They picked some energetic dance tracks, then fell into the music as they consumed each other standing up, nearly passing out with the intensity as they came in each other’s arms. As Harry led Draco to bed, The blond murmured, “Fuck, this gear is strong”, then was swept off his feet by a rampant Harry, who shagged him into the mattress, fucking his lover long and slow, Draco loving the rhythm and the long drawn out climax that made him black out for a moment. They slept deeply that night, dreamlessly, sated and so in love.