Veggie Burger
“Hey,” Bella says softly, sidling up to Harry as he leans against his motorcycle outside of the local town diner, smoking. “You’re a hard guy to catch.”
That has been on purpose. Harry hasn’t wanted to be found by Bella and he has been avoiding her as much as possible since his return to school. He shouldn’t avoid her for something out of her control. He knows that. But he cannot help the dark sludge that crawls up this throat when he remembers that she knows. In some abstract way, still. But she does. Hermione would probably think he’s being daft—or maybe old her would have, but now she’d ask him to talk about this overreaction to a mind-healer. Even Harry thinks he’s being a bit daft if he’s honest.
“Yeah, sorry. I’ve had a lot going on.” He takes another drag from his cigarette, avoiding her eyes by focussing on it. A lot going on including killing himself and stupidly telling that half-muggle vampire his name.
“That’s okay. Everything alright?” She hesitates slowly. “I didn’t…upset you or anything?”
“No, Bella, seriously,” Harry lies quickly, eyes darting away from the cursed words etched on his hand, hidden beneath his scar-removal glamour. He even imagines it twinges as he speaks. “You’re fine. It’s me, sorry. I’ve been out of it.”
She nods and sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes darting over to the other teenagers in the carpark who are playing around with a football and leaning against their cars. “Thanks for meeting me.”
He shrugs in response.
He hadn’t wanted to come. However, Harry is making an effort to blend in, to settle down. He wants to stay in Forks for as long as his young appearance will allow him. He likes Forks. The weather is nice—since rain and gloom are apparently his thing—and he enjoys hiking the mountains and pretending the activity reduces his suicidal tendencies. He likes the trees, too. Merlin, Harry apparently even has a soft spot for the new half-muggle creatures he’s met. In particular, a certain furrowed-browed individual with golden eyes and annoyingly stalker-like behaviour.
So when Bella left Harry a note in his locker—seeing as she couldn’t track him down any other way and Harry has become disastrously good at joining conversations at their lunch table and keeping them off him—asking to have dinner together after school on Thursday, Harry suffered a terrible bout of guilt and promptly decided that they could have lunch, and that he was truly becoming a rather terrible person.
Bella has been nothing but sweet to Harry, and he’s only repaid her with distance and gruffness. Why she’s even still bothering to hang out, or attempt to do so, is beyond him. Even Jessica must surely be a better choice than Harry.
Although, he can think of one person who would disagree with that statement vehemently. If that person can even be considered a person.
Edward has made himself rather clear in the last few days how he feels about Harry. Clearer, he should say. Because Edward was not particularly subtle even before he confessed his interest in Harry. And Salazar, isn’t that just a thought? Here Harry is in some obscure muggle town in America and he still manages to get himself wrapped up in some idiotic shit. Merlin forbid he have a simple life for once.
No, now he’s stuck here with a half-muggle vampire with a crush. Harry’s not above admitting that he also has some interest in Edward, but it’s more of a passing fancy. Just a slight interest in the man since he’s adamant on sticking around all the time. Literally. He sits beside Harry in four different classes and as close as he can get in the rest of them. They hadn’t even shared a class when Harry first started at Forks High School, not until Edward went all creeper-6000 and decided to transfer classes. He’s not great at acting human, Harry’s decided.
He doesn’t want to keep Bella waiting for him, and he’s sick of his thoughts constantly straying to Edward every time he has a free brain cell, so he scuffs out his cigarette and gestures to the diner.
“You wanna go in?”
Bella agrees and they head inside, finding themselves seated in the “best seat in the house” thanks to the waitress recognising Bella and adamantly forcing them to take it “for Charlie”. Harry is used to people forcing him to take their upgrades and their best seats and free products when he goes out, but Bella seems rather put out by the whole thing even though it’s just a corner seat by the window of a small diner. Bella would likely lose her mind if she was ever offered some of the freebies Harry has been.
“I didn’t realise you were so famous here,” Harry teases her as they sit down. “Forks’ first A-lister.”
“Shut up, please,” Bella groans. Her voice drops to a whisper as she continues, leaning across the table to share her most sordid opinion. “It’s horrible. I swear all these people know me from childhood and I can’t remember anyone. The first time Charlie took me here, there was even some guy telling me he’d played Santa and I’d sat on his lap!” She finishes with a horrified glance around her as if making sure no one heard.
Harry busts out laughing, taking a whole minute to pull himself together and wiping at the tears escaping. Bella tries to keep a poker face at his laughter, but ends up cracking a smile.
“Isn’t that nice?” Harry manages between a few rogue chuckles. “They obviously really care about Charlie.”
“Either that or they’re just bored. Nothing ever happens in this town,” Bella says with a frown down at the menu.
“Don’t be so sure about that, missy,” an older man says from the booth behind Bella, startling her.
She flushes a deep red and drops her head, letting her brown hair cascade around her face in a protective barrier.
“What? Something’s happened?” Harry asks, shuffling to the side slightly so he can see the back of the old man’s head.
His table is packed with four older men, each looking as if they’ve just come in from a long day out fishing. They have some ugly muggle fishing caps Harry has seen Arthur Weasley sporting before, and vests with fishing lures dangling off the pockets that he decides will make a perfect Christmas gift for Arthur. As long as he can remember it by then. Maybe he’ll pick one up and have Kreacher store it somewhere just to make sure.
“Been a few killed in Seattle,” one of them explains. “Some kind of animal.”
“Whatever it is, they said it was moving east,” the original man says, not even bothering to turn his head. “But they just found Waylon dead down at the port tonight.”
“Alright guys, that’s enough,” the waitress says as she pulls up, tapping one of the men on the shoulder. “No need to get the youngin’s all scared.” She shuffles over to Harry and Bella’s table, pulling out her notepad. “What’ll it be?”
Harry copies Bella’s order—a veggie burger with a chocolate milkshake, which he wouldn’t have copied if he was in the right state of mind, but he was a little preoccupied thinking over what the men had said. He had been aware of the killings in Seattle, at least he had read about them in the muggle newspaper he buys at the supermarket and he had seen a couple of news reports on them during his more recent trip to Seattle. However he’d also assumed they were rather standard in the sense that a couple of random deaths-by-animal seemed really not that big of a deal to a city as large as Seattle. Especially one with such dangerous animals nearby in their numerous woodlands and parks.
It seems, though, that these deaths aren’t normal and the locals are not considering them so. Even worse, someone from Forks has now been killed. Forks. Where Harry is meant to be hiding out, being inconspicuous and whatnot. Which he can hardly do if there’s suddenly people dying mysteriously. Plus, the ex-auror in him is very aware that he’s the most recent newcomer in Forks who has been to Seattle numerous times, and he’s likely been captured on some form of CCTV in his brief jaunts to the big city.
“So, what’s going on with you and Edward?” Bella asks, disrupting Harry’s ruminating.
He drags his thoughts back from mauled bodies, and his eyes away from the Spartan players passing a football between each other in the carpark.
“Nothing.”
Harry flinches. He already knows that’s the wrong response—a guilty response, of someone who definitely has something to hide. Bella raises an eyebrow at him.
“He sits next to you in every class.”
“Not every class—” Harry begins to argue.
“You left school with him the other day. Didn’t even take your bike.”
“It was out of fuel—”
“Please!” Bella groans. “At least come up with a better reason than that.”
Harry crosses his arms and sits back, huffing a little. “I’m allowed to be truant with others.”
“Still doesn’t explain why he’s suddenly in every class with you.”
“You’d have to ask him why.”
Bella narrows her eyes at him. “Are you guys…dating?”
“What?!” Harry splutters, feeling his face heat up. “Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “It seems like you could be. I mean, he’s always around now and—”
“No! We are not dating.” Harry flops back in the bench seat and feels his body quiver with the desire to turn into goop and crawl away from this conversation.
“I mean, it’s fine if you are, I was just won—”
“We’re not!” Harry insists just as the waitress returns with their food.
She plops the two plates down in front of them and hurries off for the milkshakes. When she’s back, she hesitates slightly before leaving.
“You should probably check up on your dad,” she says to Bella softly. “Waylon was a good friend of his. They worked at the department together.”
Bella nods her head slowly and thanks the waitress. They fall into silence as she leaves and Harry awkwardly squirts some tomato sauce on his plate. The veggie burger looks rather dry, so he squirts some on that too, hoping the extra lubricant will help him choke down the sad-looking patty.
The bell above the door dings as a group of young teenagers walk in, their hair long down their backs and skin dark even though the sun never shines. Harry’s magic flares within him and stretches out, feeling over the young members of the Quiluete tribe. None of them are half-muggle wolves. Not yet, anyway. Harry can feel the nature magic brimming under their skin waiting for its moment to burst forth in a flurry of fur and claws and canines.
Bella slowly stirs her milkshake as she thinks, lips pursed just like Hermione does and her eyes glaring at her untouched burger. Harry takes a big bite of his own and realises that it actually tastes pretty good, even if it looks like dried goo from a Bubotuber.
“Bella, hey! Oh, you must be James,” One of the young teens says, stopping next to their table.
Harry looks up, chewing his burger and eyes the kid with a blinding smile. He’s flanked either side by two other teenagers, reminding him of Draco with his goons Goyle and Crabbe, if Draco were cuter, less pointy, and more tanned, and if Crabbe and Goyle were skinnier and wore muggle skater clothes.
“Unfortunately, you’ve got he wrong bloke,” Harry drawls in response, putting his burger down and dipping a chip in some sauce.
“Jake?” Bella asks.
The teenager just laughs at Harry, shaking his head, and turns to Bella.
“What’s up Bells? How you been?”
“Yeah, I’m good. What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t come to town often.”
One of his friends snort. “Yeah, we don’t.”
“Oh, shut up, Quil. I came in with Dad to pick up some parts for the truck. These two idiots just decided to tag along.”
Harry munches on his chips as he listens. He doesn’t know who this Jake is, but he has his suspicions simply based on the cut of his nose and his friendship with Bella.
“How do you know James?” Bella asks, shuffling down the bench seat so Jake can sit.
Harry shuffles over too with perhaps a slight sigh. He might’ve preferred if the teenagers didn’t sit with them, but he doesn’t have much of a reason to kick them away apart from the fact that he’s already at his socialising limit just with Bella. The other two squeeze in beside Harry and he grumbles internally that Bella gets to share her seat with only one person, not two others.
“Dad mentioned him!” Jake says happily, flashing Harry a big smile. “They met recently when James came to the reservation.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Bella looks to Harry. “Did you get your lost item from Sam?”
Harry nods and glances slightly at Jacob, his suspicions now confirmed that he is, in fact, Billy Black’s son. A Black.
“Yes, and I met a few people too. Billy was really nice. I haven’t met Jacob yet though.” Harry nods in his direction. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, holding eye contact with Jacob in a way he hopes screams ‘don’t say anything you shouldn’t’.
“You too man! Dad talked about you so much. He’s glad you moved to Forks.”
Bella and the other two teenagers frown slightly, each looking confused. Harry fights the urge to kick Jacob from under the table for being a dunderhead, a complete and utter bumbling buffoon with less brain cells than a flubberworm.
“Why?” One of Jacob’s friends asks and Harry decides this is Jacob’s problem to solve, not his, and focusses on taking a long drink of his milkshake, sucking hard on the straw with narrowed eyes glaring at Jacob.
“Uh…” Jacob trails off. “Cause we’re related?”
Harry coughs, smacking his chest as he darts a glare to Jacob and wonders if he should just obliviate the table. He was under the impression Billy was going to tell Jacob about him and, well, perhaps also about the fact that such information should be private. Not announced to random muggles.
“Whoa,” one of the teens says, glancing at Harry with a new-found look of appreciation on his face. “Sick. What’re you guys, cousins?”
“Dude, you’re related to the British guy?” The other asks Jacob.
Bella just looks on with a confused face, her mouth slightly open.
“While I wasn’t going to be sharing this to the wholeworld,” Harry says with a pointed look at Jacob, who flinches slightly and slinks down in his chair with a wounded-dog (wounded-wolf?) expression. “My godfather was distantly related to the Blacks. I suppose that’s why I chose to move here.”
“That’s cool,” Bella says, pulling herself together. “So you moved here for family.”
“I guess so.” Harry shrugs. “I wasn’t expecting much of a relationship, but it was enough reason to choose Forks.”
“Oh dude, you don’t have to worry about that! Dad’s so happy to have you in town. He already talks about inviting you over for the tribe Sunday barbeques.”
Harry smiles softly at his plate of food, thinking back to all the Sunday roast dinners he slipped out on at the Burrow. Sometimes because he was drunk, sometimes because he was dead. Sometimes simply because he couldn’t work himself up to lying to his family again, to turn up glamoured and aged, to pretend he isn’t hyper-aware of everyone around him moving forward in life.
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to come visit,” Jacob continues, snatching a chip from Bella’s plate, poking his tongue out at her when her hand was too slow to block him. “Dad said I should come introduce myself, so it’s good I ran into you here.”
Harry had given the Black’s free range of their ancestral home, so he supposes it is a little odd Jacob hasn’t visited yet. Especially after learning about werewolves and wizards alongside his random new British semi-related family member.
“Well, you’re more than welcome to come and visit me with your dad at any time,” Harry says, watching the energetic teen try to steal more chips from Bella’s plate and realising he’s got a dangerous soft spot for talkative kids with high energy. Jacob reminds him of Ron, that first time they met on the trains. He too was all smiles and shiny eyes and long-winded stories.
“Thanks, man! You should come visit us on the Rez some time. Dad’ll love it.”
“Oh, we’re going tomorrow actually,” Bella says. “To La Push.”
“We are?” Harry asks, chip halfway to his mouth and an eyebrow raised.
Bella side eyes him slightly. “Yes. We are. You agreed to go yesterday when Jessica asked you!” Bella’s eyes bore into him with an unspoken accusation, likely that if Harry were more present at their lunches recently he would remember agreeing to some horrendous weekend plan.
“What the fuck is La Push?”
“It’s a beach, man,” Jacob’s friend says, stealing a chip from Harry’s plate like they, too, are close friends.
Harry grimaces at the thought of going to the beach. First of all, Forks is not exactly beach-weather ideal. It feels ridiculous to consider going to a beach when it’s overcast and gloomy outside. Surely the beach itself wouldn’t even have nice surf. The water would probably look as dark and uninviting as the Black Lake at Hogwarts—which he doesn’t want to swim in ever again, thank you very much.
“You should ask Edward to come,” Bella says, between bites of her burger. “He told Jessica it was too crowded there, so he wouldn’t go. He’d probably say yes if you asked him though.”
Too crowded sounds like the perfect excuse to Harry. Why wasn’t he paying more attention at lunch yesterday? He should have used Edward’s excuse to get out of it as well.
“Edward Cullen?” One of the Quiluete boys snorts and shakes his head when Bella nods. “The Cullens don’t come to the Rez.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asks, cocking her head.
Harry kicks Jacob’s shin and raises his eyebrows at the teenager, mentally asking him what the hell his friend’s problem is. Jacob jumps at the kick and bumps Bella’s elbow, apologising to her and asking her how the plant burger tastes in a rather smooth attempt at a diversion. Harry was under the impression that most kids at the reservation didn’t believe in the stories of the Quiluete tribe—though Jacob’s friend certaintly sounds like he does. Jacob’s attempt at diversion is unsuccessful on Bella, who repeats her question to Jacob instead, her eyes slightly narrowed.
“Oh, Jacob! Look. I think I see Billy waving for you guys,” Harry says, gesturing blandly out the window.
“Oh yeah! He is. Sorry, Bella, we gotta go!” Jacob says, cutting off Bella’s third attempt at asking what he meant.
“What? Where is he?” Bella asks, squinting out the window and trying to see between the cars to across the street.
“He’s gone back in the store now,” Harry lies smoothly, shoving Jacob’s two friends off his bench seat. He glares at them slightly as they grumble to each other about not even getting to order.
“See you guys later!” Jacob calls, pushing his two friends for the door hastily.
Once they’ve left, Bella picks her burger back up and looks at Harry over it with a confused face.
“That was weird.”
“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “So, out of ten, rate the burger?” He hedges, hoping she’ll allow the conversation change.
She narrows her eyes at him but gracefully accepts, starting in to her rather in-depth burger review.