Shopping
Harry realized that he hated a lot of things.
Harry hated Them, he hated the sound of his sister's screams. Harry hated sleeping alone, he hated small spaces and he hated mushy food. Harry hated the bright lights in the high school, he hated feeling stupid, and Harry hated - desperately terribly viciously hated - shopping.
Shopping for groceries with El was different. They had darted in the store, grabbed some things that looked like they would taste okay, and left. Harry focused his magic on making them unobserved, telling himself it was so that El was never hungry that he did it. There weren't many people in the grocery store, nobody knew they were there to talk to them.
The lights didn't have a buzzing sound that irritated Harry's ears. There weren't sizes of groceries. Nobody in the grocery store asked what colors Harry liked to wear.
Harry didn't like to wear any particular color, he didn't know what size he was. His skin was sweating and there was too much spit in his mouth and he wanted to leave. And he couldn't leave, Harry couldn't leave, because El was holding his hand and Hop said ‘not your sister, not El, you'. Harry couldn't leave, couldn't leave, couldn't leave.
Siri said if Harry didn't want to do something, he didn't have to. When they were in Steve's house, Siri said if Harry didn't want to do something, he didn't have to. All Harry had to do was open his mouth and say so. Except Hop said Harry had to. Hop didn't say he could open his mouth and say no, Hop said he had to use a little notebook to pay for clothes that ‘not your sister, not El, you'.
‘Not your sister, not El, you.'
‘Not your sister, not El, you.'
"Hun? Would you like to try a pair of these?"
Harry flinched so hard it felt as if he was actually jumping out of his skin as it crawled away from him, hiding from the woman holding a pair of jeans toward him. He shook his head and backed away, bumped into a person - not a person, a fake person - and nearly fell over.
"Does he look like a fuckin' skinny jean kind of guy?" Billy was there and he was as loud as the music that played in every area of the store they were in and he was too close, crowding up beside Harry and taking all of the air.
"Sirianna!" Billy yelled past the woman with the jeans, yelled at where Siri was looking at skirts and sweaters and giggling while she touched each thing. She paused to look over at Billy and Harry could see - he could see - her excitement flicker.
"We're going to smoke, grab some shit for your brother and find us when you're done," Billy said. He grabbed the leg of the jeans the woman had and rolled his eyes. "Not fuckin' skinny jeans."
Harry didn't know what he said, he tried to open his mouth to say he couldn't leave, couldn't, and he managed to pull the little notepad from his pocket.
"Who gives a fuck? El can grab you when they're done if you have to sign the check." Billy scoffed and turned away to stride toward the exit.
It looked so nice outside, Harry never appreciated it. It was blue, blue might be his favorite color. Harry wanted to leave too.
"Grab you." El slowly let go of Harry's hand and she was already leaving him to join Siri further in the flames. "Not skinny jeans," she added.
Harry should stay. Hop told him to. But Siri said that if Harry didn't want to do something he only had to say so.
"I don't want to do this," Harry said. He nodded to himself, to the woman still standing beside him, and then hurried to catch up with Billy.
If Siri wanted to pick clothes for Harry, she could. He had already been made to try on trousers and jeans and shirts to ‘get his sizes'. As long as Harry - not Siri, not El - paid at the end then he wasn't disobeying Hop's orders.
As soon as Harry was outside he felt like he could breathe properly again. He tried it a few times, slowed the racing pulse in his body, breathed. Harry breathed and then did it again. It was better, outside.
"Shopping sucks," Billy said when Harry carefully crossed the busy lot to where his car was parked. Billy leaned against the front of the car and Harry tried to mimic his pose. It - it probably looked better when Billy did it.
Harry nodded in agreement anyway, shopping was terrible. It made Harry's head ache along with his eyes. The man at the eye office told Harry that it would be ‘an adjustment' wearing glasses and the adjustment was apparently just getting used to the pain.
At least Harry could see though, he didn't know he couldn't before. It was kind of neat, reading signs that became nothing but fuzz when he looked at them over the top of his glasses. It made his eyes hurt more to do, but Harry liked it.
Harry did it a few times while Billy smoked a cigarette beside him. Billy offered Harry one and Harry shook his head - they smelled awful. Siri must have liked the smell though, it didn't make her nose pinch to be around or to smoke herself.
Somehow, like he was reading Harry's mind, Billy pointed out what Harry had been thinking about for the last two days.
"You know, for twins, you and Sirianna are about as similar as night and day."
That made Harry the night, he was sure. Siri was daylight, warm and cheerful. People were happy in the day, they smiled and they joined cheerleading teams. Sometimes people slept at night, sometimes they stayed up and waited for the day to come back.
Harry and Siri were different, Harry wished they weren't. Siri told him it didn't matter, back when they were eleven. When they were eleven Siri said it didn't matter if they were in different houses and when they were fifteen Siri said that nothing would drive them apart.
They were different and she said it was okay. They were okay. It was okay if Harry didn't want to do things that she did. Hogwarts houses didn't matter and high school didn't matter - they weren't fine, they were okay.
Siri mattered, El mattered. Siri liked Billy so he mattered. He mattered just enough that Harry answered him when he didn't really want to.
"Yeah," Harry agreed again.
Billy made a snorting noise that seemed like it would be painful with the smoke in his mouth. He finished his cigarette and then squished it beneath his boot.
"If I ask what it's like living with the Chief of fucking Po-lice, are you gonna say ‘yeah' again?" Billy asked.
Well, no. That wouldn't make sense. It didn't make sense that Billy wanted to know what it was like living with Hop either though, but Harry wasn't the Potter that was good at conversations.
"Er… it's okay," Harry said.
"He seems like he could be a massive dick."
Harry didn't know how to reply, so he shrugged. Harry didn't want to be in charge of a notepad - not Siri, not El, Harry - but Siri was so happy to buy new clothes, how could Harry complain? And Hop told Harry he was too old to sleep in bed with Siri, but Harry did it. Hop didn't turn El away, Harry never even thought that he could have.
"He good to your sister?"
Harry shrugged again, still not knowing the answer to that. Hop made Siri happy, telling them to buy clothes. Siri made dinner and Hop said it was good. Was that being good to someone?
"I guess so," Harry said, thinking he should say something.
"Good." Billy leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes never wavered from the door of the store. "If that changes, let me know, would you?"
Harry tried to cross his arms, then uncrossed them. Then he stuck his hands in his pockets.
"Okay."
Billy didn't ask any more questions and it was silent between them. There were some women that walked past them and giggled, but other than that it was quiet. Siri poked her head out of the store door after a few minutes and scanned the parking lot. When she saw Harry she held up five fingers and so he nodded.
"She always been like that?" Billy nodded where Siri disappeared to and Harry saw that his lips were curled up at the edges.
"Like what?" Harry forced himself to ask. Siri liked Billy, Billy liked Siri. It meant Harry should talk to him, or at least not outright ignore him like he wanted to.
It was adding to the throbbing at the base of Harry's skull though, he knew it.
"Like… like…" Billy waved a hand that Harry kept clear of. "A fucking mother hen, or some shit. The way she's always clucking at you?"
Siri didn't… she didn't cluck? Harry doubted that was what Billy meant though, didn't it mean —
"Theo's like Harry's little mother hen." Draco Malfoy and his goons were snickering at where Theo kept taking Harry's dessert and replacing it with a bowl of soup. "Oh, no, Potter has the sniffles! Time to cluck away!"
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry snapped. "And quit that," Harry pushed the soup away and rolled his eyes at Theo. "It rains during quidditch sometimes, Theo. I'm fine."
"Do you know how many people die every year from the common cold?" Theo asked, once again taking Harry's plate of tarts.
Harry hesitated, interested in the answer even if he just wanted to eat a bunch of sugar and go to sleep. "Er… no? Do you?"
Theo blinked, Harry blinked.
They ended up laughing together over their ignorance on the annual death toll caused by the common cold while they shared the tarts and ignored anyone who called Theo a ‘mother hen'.
"I guess not," Harry mused quietly. Siri didn't hang around Harry at Hogwarts, not until - well, all they had were each other. "We - er… she worries, I think. It's - I dunno. I think she thinks she has to protect me."
That was what she said - they protected each other. But the way she said it had sounded like she meant she had to look after him, she had to take care of Harry because he didn't do it right. She wasn't mad, it still made Harry feel young and stupid.
Harry tried to protect her - he did.
"From…?" Billy pulled another cigarette from his pocket, never looking at Harry the whole time he lit it and blew smoke in the opposite direction. Harry appreciated it, even if he could still smell it.
From? From - what? Oh. Harry shook his head, he had said - and Billy asked —
"Everything," Harry shrugged. "It - I don't - Siri - we…" Harry huffed. He didn't want to explain, not to Billy. It didn't matter if he reminded Harry of Theo sometimes, it didn't matter if Siri liked him so Harry needed to try. "I don't want to talk about this."
Sometimes, not often, Harry thought if he started talking then he wouldn't be able to stop. Harry used to ramble, ramble about things only Theo cared about. Siri was patient, when they - they… Harry had vague memories of a house Siri said they lived in; he could picture his sister with her missing front teeth nodding along to whatever had sparked Harry's interest at the time. Harry could remember a door that rarely opened, two narrow cots shoved in a room, and that was mostly it.
Harry used to ramble. He couldn't anymore because he didn't think he would stop and nobody needed to hear about experiments and magic and tests that peeled skin off of bones and the different ways that Harry had died and couldn't do again.
"Yeah." Billy puffed on his cigarette, kept the smoke out of Harry's face. "You change your mind, you know where to find me."
Did… did he? Harry didn't actually know much about Billy. Harry knew he liked Siri, didn't like loud noises unexpectedly, and someone stronger than him beat him up. Harry knew he drove fast, smoked a lot, and swore.
That was all he knew.
"Okay."
It wasn't much longer before El opened the glass door to the store and looked at Harry. He cringed at the thought of going back inside, didn't want to - had to be him.
"You ever write a check before?" Billy asked, loping back toward the store beside Harry. Harry shook his head, the eye doctor only needed the numbers off the check, then they wrote ‘VOID' in all capital letters across it. Billy held a hand out for the little book Harry reluctantly handed over. "Look, it's easy, right? Write the store name on this line, the total in words on this line, the total in numbers in this box. Sign down there, done."
Billy made it sound much easier than it wound up being. Harry stood in front of the register with a pen shaking in his fingers - the lights were loud, people were whispering and telling him to hurry, the cashier had lipstick on her teeth - while he slowly wrote the letters and numbers out.
Then he went to sign his name and froze completely.
H - a - r - r - y…
What did he write? Potter? Hammond? The name on the check said Jim Hopper. Would they think Harry stole it if they didn't have the same last name? Why did Hop say not Siri, not El, Harry?!
"Done yet?" The cashier popped a bubble of pink gum in Harry's face and he needed to get out of there. In his moment of panic, Harry wrote ‘Hopper'.
If Hop was mad about it, then - then he'd have to be mad because Harry handed over the check out of the book and fled.
Harry hoped the clothes that Siri picked for him would fit for the rest of his life because Harry was never going shopping again.
It was after six when Billy pulled up in front of Hop's house. Hop's car was in the driveway and Harry suddenly worried that they had used too much money. There were so many bags that Harry, Siri, and El carried from the boot to the house and it was a lot and Siri was bouncing on her toes and she picked everything but if Hop got angry he had told Harry to be in charge of the stupid checkbook.
Not Siri, not El - Harry.
"I'll meet you inside in a minute." Siri dropped her arm of bags just inside the door and flashed Harry the smile she wore all day. "I wanna tell Billy bye."
Harry thought she could do that from the doorway, El agreed - he was sure. But he still nodded and then warily entered the house himself. El was right beside Harry when they stepped in the living room and saw Hop stretched out on his recliner with a glass bottle in one hand and cigarette in the other.
The - the room was trashed, actually. Harry was so distracted by the ripped up cardboard, the discarded plastic sheets, and the tools littered everywhere that Hop had to say his name twice for his attention.
"How's the vision?" he asked when Harry looked away from the garbage to him.
Harry's vision? It was okay.
"Okay." Harry looked away from Hop, distracted again by the trash and tools and general mess that he apparently made. Harry turned around to put the bags he had with where Siri dropped hers and then he grabbed a trash bag from the kitchen.
It was a trail of trash - more cardboard, ripped up instructions, discarded screws. Why - how - how did one person make so much of a mess? The house had been clean when they picked up El.
"Hey, quit that." Hop put the leg rest of his chair down when he saw Harry walking from the kitchen to the living room, carefully picking up each piece of garbage he saw. "It's my mess, kid, I'll clean it when I'm ready."
"But —" Harry wanted to argue, he wanted to say that it was a mess and it was covering the floor and Harry was surrounded by garbage. Hop stepped up to him and held a hand out for the bag though so Harry slowly gave it to him.
"Yes, sir."
"We talked about that." Hop took the bag and tossed it in the corner where the biggest pieces of cardboard were before he settled back in his chair. Harry was stuck in the middle of the room, El just behind him, and Hop looking at him.
Staring.
Waiting for… for something.
"Hello! We're home!" Siri rushed in the room, bringing fresh air and breaking the tension that had begun to build in Harry's chest. She stopped to scoop up all the bags and then positively beamed at Hop. "We did exactly what you said. Harry saw an eye doctor, doesn't he look brilliant with his glasses? And we got clothes and El needed shoes and also I bought shampoo and conditioner and if you're mad I'll pay you back - but Chrissy said—"
"Yup, dont care." Hop cut Siri off with a wave of his hand. "No offense, kid, but I'm not the shopping kind of guy. You all got shit you need? Shoes, clothes, jackets?"
"Toothbrush." El pulled her new toothbrush from one of the bags and held it up. It was yellow, Harry liked it. Harry got a blue one and had nearly smiled when Siri snatched a red one.
"Great, there's a bigger dresser in there now." Hop jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing it at the bedroom door. "It's not huge, but it'll work for now. Six drawers, two each. Use the hall closet if you need more space."
Siri thanked Hop and then urged Harry and El to follow her so they could ‘divide up drawers'. She was in the middle of offering El first choice on her two drawers when she opened the door and Harry drew to a stop.
It was… it was beds. Stacked on top of each other. Bunk beds, that was what it was called. It was separate beds. Stacked on each other with another bed tucked underneath the bottom one.
Three people. Three beds.
Siri faltered when she noticed the beds and she looked at Harry quickly.
"It's fine." She dropped the bags and took his hand, trying to pull Harry further in the room with the three beds. "It's just beds, we don't have to sleep on separate beds. Who cares?"
"Who cares?" El echoed, nodding along.
Harry cared. Harry cared that Hop said he was too old to sleep with Siri and he cared that he - not Siri, not El, Harry - had to decide what to sign on a check and he cared that there was trash everywhere and Hop said don't call him sir.
Harry cared that his throat was swelling and his head swam painfully and he hated shopping and bunk beds and glasses.
"I'll put your stuff away," Siri offered kindly. "Are you hungry? Why don't you go see what we have for dinner and we can cook when everything's put away?"
Siri wasn't getting rid of him, she was blocking his view of the beds with her pity filled eyes because she thought she had to protect Harry from - from bunk beds.
Harry left though, walked away from the beds, walked through the living room, walked right back out the front door so he could sit and breathe fresh air.
It was stupid, letting things weigh down Harry's chest. Siri said it at Steve's - they were free and safe and had each other. Nothing else mattered, it didn't.
Harry ripped the glasses off his face and shoved them in his pocket. He sank down to sit on the steps and pushed the palms of his hands against both of his eyes as hard as he could.
It.
Was.
Stupid.
Harry breathed in, held it, breathed out. He did it over and over until his exhales stopped shaking and his chest didn't feel overexposed and raw. The door opened behind him and Harry shifted so it wasn't his back directly to whoever - Hop, they were too loud of steps to be Siri or El - joined him.
"When did I become too old?"
"What's that?"
Harry moved his hands off his face and squeezed his own fingers tightly, squeezed them until he could feel his bones safely inside of their skin. He stared out at the yard and couldn't read the sign across the street, which did nothing for his head.
"What age was it that I turned too old to share a bed with Siri?" Harry asked, needing the answer. Harry needed the answer. It was going to circle his head until he answered it - how many people died from the common cold? Which birthday was it when Harry shouldn't need Siri as much?
"Kid…" Hop sat down beside Harry on the porch steps with a heavy sigh. Harry couldn't scoot any further away, he was already pressed against the railing, but Hop didn't say he minded that Harry's knee knocked into his.
"It's not an age exactly," Hop said. "You both need space, you have to learn that the world isn't going to end if you're not tangled up in each other constantly. That's all."
The world would end, it had.
Many times.
"Right." Harry didn't fight, didn't argue. He rubbed his forehead and pushed on it, trying to physically push the ache away.
"Headache?" Hop asked.
"No, s - no," Harry said, catching himself quickly. Harry tried to move his hands to his pockets, somewhere neutral to keep them until Hop went back inside. He felt the checkbook and forgot he needed to give it back to Hop.
"I didn't - I didn't know what to write," Harry said, working hard to not mumble. He gave Hop the book and shrugged his shoulders up. "My name. I didn't know."
Hop flipped the little book open and barely glanced at the copy of the void check from the eye doctor before turning the page. The copy was light, Harry could see his own shaky writing and rushed signature.
Harry Hopper.
Harry forgot one of the p's, so it actually said ‘Harry Hoper'.
What was he hoping for?
"That's alright." Hop closed the book and tucked it inside his jacket pocket. "Remind me to give your sister a limit next time. Jesus Christ, that girl can shop."
Harry nodded then dropped his head back in his hands and focused on pulling air into his lungs, out of his lungs. Hop didn't speak, didn't get up. He lit a cigarette and Harry felt his own stomach flip at the smell.
They smoked, a lot of Them. The smell would cling to the ones that moved Harry from his cell to the testing room, it would be mixed with the smell of singed flesh, potions, or whatever device they invented to test that day. It made Harry's head spin and his stomach to twist.
It was a disgusting smell and acid bubbled up in Harry's stomach, creeped its way up his throat.
"You want me to put it out or move, say so." Hop's voice came from nowhere, Harry was bent forward, clutching his head and holding down the urge to retch. "You've got to speak up, Harry, your sister isn't here to do it for you."
If Hop thought he knew that Harry wanted him to move, why did Harry have to say so? If HE KNEW THAT HARRY WANTED HIM TO MOVE, WHY DID HARRY HAVE TO SAY SO?
Harry wouldn't. Harry shoved himself up off the step, turned around, stormed in the house. It was mostly an accident when he slammed the door hard behind him, slammed it hard enough to make the doorframe shake and the windows to rattle.
Only mostly, because Harry did not have to say a word if he didn't want to. Harry could go to his room, tear through the bags of clothes until he found something soft to wear, and then throw himself on the very top bed, ignoring Siri's startled questions and El's wide eyes both.
It wasn't Siri or El who had to talk and write checks and sign their name and they weren't too stupid to do simple tasks and they weren't breathing hard about the trash all over the living room that was still there.
Not Siri. Not El.
Harry.