Loser

AN:/ Sorry about the crappy update schedule. Some things got pushed to the front and Loser ended up at the bottom of the pile.


Girls

VI

What irritated Ron the most, was the way Harlan could act so normal the next day, as though nothing of note had even taken place.

She played some rowdy quidditch with Ginny and even had the bullocks to waltz into the kitchen and ask him again if he wanted to play. Of course, Ron snorted derisively in her face, and only felt a little guilty about it.

“Prat!” she muttered under her breath to him, as she stalked away.

Harlan did look awfully good on a broom, Ron had to admit. Maybe that was why she had throttled every team to ever play her. Even Victor Krum in fourth year, could barely stand up to her skill. Her black hair playing wildly against those silly spectacles and deep green eyes…

“Bugger,” Ron said groaning, turning his eyes away from the kitchen window, “Stop staring! She’s a Slytherin!”

As if on cue, his mind finally switched to less questionable things. He had a letter to write to Hermione, anyway.

A few hours later, Ron tromped up the stairs, loudly. He banged on his sister’s door and when he got no answer, pushed open the door.

“Mum wants to see you,” Ron said and then promptly saw Harlan wearing only a bra and knickers, in the place of his sister.

His jaw dropped slightly, “Sorry!” he squeaked.

But then, he realized what he was actually seeing.

Scars. Horrible scars. All over her body.

Ron swallowed, looking at her up and down. There were huge gnarled gashes all over her, centered at her breasts and petering out. He swore there was a gigantic handprint on her left hip, only slightly covered by the mint green knickers she was wearing. Her thighs looked cut up, as though someone had taken a switch to them. They were darker then the rest of her skin, obviously old. But the scars made Ron feel almost ill, and it had nothing to do with the way they looked.

These weren’t scars from quidditch or fighting dragons like Charlie had, they were scars from having horrible things done to you, many times over. Harlan’s eyes turned glassy, as though she was withholding tears, Ron suddenly realized she had misinterpreted his staring as something less then simple curiosity.

“What!” Harlan shouted at him, “Go on, get a good look! You and everybody else wants to see what a Dark Lord can do!”

“What?” Ron shouted, “I didn’t! I mean, they don’t make you look worse! I mean- they’re just scars, not that I’m trying to- Oh bugger!” he said finally, in a hopeless tone.

Harlan turned an atrocious shade of red and shoved him violently out the door. Ron stumbled, which was no small accomplishment considering his height and only managed to gather his bearings in time, to get the door slammed in his face.

“Ronald!” his sister shouted at him in the hallway, scandalized.

“It was a total accident!” he said, flushing slightly, “Honest!”

“She’s sensitive!” Ginny screamed at him, her eyes going a bit moist, “You great berk!”

Ron had two doors slammed in his face that day, in only a matter of minutes. Standing in the hall, completely perplexed, he could only assume that he had somehow screwed something important up.

“Girls!” he snarled, to no one in particular.