Mission

Harry pulled his SUV into the parking lot of the drug store, turning the car off. It was cold out at three a.m., and he sat for a bit in the car, rubbing his hands together. He wished he had changed out of his shorts and t-shirt before bolting out of the house.

Looking around quickly to make sure he was unseen, he dashed out of the car, slammed the door, and marched up into the store.

It was nearly empty, but awake. The man standing at the counter was ready to doze off, and the few people moping around looked dead on their feet. Harry mustered himself up and walked steadily forward along the aisles, scanning each one with his eyes. He didn't dare just start walking down any aisle in case he found the right one and looked lost.

Aisle one...no...aisle two...no, he felt like Snape on his old espionage missions as he backed against walls of cereal boxes and toys, inching down aisles for fear he might be seen by someone he knew. "Why me?" he muttered to himself looking up at the ceiling slightly. "Did I look bored? Did I seem like I needed a nice little adventure?" He peeked around another corner cautiously, scanning both sides left and right. Close. There was toilet paper and towels and other bathroom necessities, but none of the things he was looking for. A man was giving him a very odd look, and Harry felt his face burning as the man skirted past him worriedly. He rolled his eyes. "Hermione would be pissing herself if she saw this."

"I'm sorry," said an elderly woman behind Harry, making him jump and blush harder. "But do you need anything? You seem...lost."

Harry forced a laugh unconvincingly. "No, no, I'm good. Thank you, though. I'm just tired."

The woman smiled and walked past him. Harry waved. "I'm not lost!" he said cheerily, and then his smile vanished. "Memo to me: Strangulate Hermione upon return home. She is so dead."

He kept sneaking around, still unsuccessful. He was at the seventh aisle when he saw a clerk. A man. Well, at least he could share the pain. Harry started towards him swiftly. "Er...excuse me?"

The man turned around. He looked a bit younger than Harry with sandy hair, and about a head shorter. He spoke with a thick Cockney accent. "Oi, gov. What's the what?"

Harry was fidgeting, and he mumbled his answer to the kid. The clerk lifted an eyebrow. "I beg?" he asked, turning an ear towards him slightly.

Harry looked around at the people walking past, and still bouncing a bit on his toes, he muttered it again, this time trying to be a bit louder. The kid shook his head. "Can't hear."

"T-tampons . . ." Harry's face was reddening with frustration. If this kid . . .

"Louder --"

"Tampons!" Harry whispered loudly to him.

"I'm sorry, sir, but if you want me to be able to help you . . ."

"I said --" Harry broke off and leaned forward, speaking into the man's ear.

The man's eyes widened. "What?" he said a bit too loudly, and he glanced down below Harry's midsection uncertainly. Harry's face was on fire. "No! Not for me!" he whispered frantically. People were looking at them out of the corners of their eyes and Harry was ready to keel from the pressure. "It's my wife. She's . . . er . . . well, you know . . ."

"Ohhhhh," the clerk said, and gave Harry a wink. "I hear ya. My girlfriend gets them awful every bloody month." Then he laughed. "No pun intended, gov."

Harry was mortified. People were gaping at them, but when he looked around they resumed their shopping slowly, still listening to what was going on. He turned around with a large, blasé smile plastered on his face. "Look. Pal." Harry grabbed the kid by the shoulder in what looked like a friendly gesture while really he was squeezing the kid's arm almost out of its socket. Any trace of a smile on the clerk's face had vanished. "Just tell me . . . where they are."

The kid nodded statically, and he turned around, leading Harry over to the cash register. The man jerked out of his sleep at their arrival. "Uh . . . yeah . . . w'sup, Mart?" he blundered.

Marty pointed to Harry. "He needs . . . er . . ." he looked at Harry. "He needs . . ." He also broke off, and he leaned way over the counter to whisper it in the man's ear.

The man's eyes widened after a moment. "What?" And he also unceremoniously looked south.

"Not for me!" Harry repeated.

The man looked at Harry with a piercing stare. Harry was beyond himself. What the hell was going on? Did no one in this entire store know what he was going through?

The man took a sip from his soda can, crushed it in his fist, and threw it in the trash can over to his left. Both Harry and Marty were waiting for him to say something. When the man looked back at Harry, he said the most incredible thing Harry had ever heard.

"You're sure they're not for you?"

Harry's mouth fell open. "Yes! Yes, you bastard! They're not for me! But I need them! Where are they?"

The man blinked. "Where are what?"

Something hidden in the very depths of Harry's stomach exploded. He merely stood there, his mouth hanging open, staring at the fat lump of a man that was fixing him with a confusing stare. This, his brain told him, is the reason why they don't let everyone apply for rocket science. Harry's rage suddenly got the best of him, and he lunged, grabbing the man behind the counter by the scruff of his collar.

"Tampons!" Harry shouted at him, hell breaking loose inside him. Screw being quiet, he thought. The man's face was twisted confusedly. "Tampons, you idiot! Why? Need me to shout it out louder for you? So that everyone can hear me? Tampons, tampons, TAMPONS!"

Harry reached over and grabbed the microphone. "Yes, people. I'm buying tampons." His voice echoed through the store, and people stopped everywhere to listen. "It is three a.m. I am tired. I'm freezing my arse off. And I am one pissed son of a bitch. My wife, bless her, is in desperate need of something to block the flow of blood that is currently running down her legs. I'm here to find what she needs. Hallelujah." He put the microphone back down, his every movement followed by horrified stares from the customers. "Tell me where the damned things are," he said in quiet fury to the two stunned clerks, "or there will be hell to pay."

He didn't know which face was more shocked. They looked at one another, and then back at him, unable to speak properly. Harry had to admit. He was feeling awfully bold at the moment.

Then, he felt a light tap on his arm. It was the old woman from before. "I'm sorry, dear, but I couldn't help but hear what you were saying."

Gratitude for the woman's polite behavior kept him from rolling his eyes. She held him gently by the arm, gazing up at him kindly. "I was wondering. Would you like me to help you find what you're looking for?"

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and smiled. "Yes, please. I'd like to get home soon."

The woman took him to the proper aisle, which, believe it or not, was the next aisle from where he had been to begin with. She helped him find the proper kind and handed him the box.

Looking down at the box, at all the people staring at him, and the two clerks, he grabbed the woman and kissed her on the cheek. It didn't seem to startle her at all. "Any time at all, dear."

Harry proudly approached the two men, threw a slip of Muggle money at them, and marched out the door without another word.

* * *

Hermione looked up from her book as she heard the front door slam. "Good!" she exclaimed wearily. "You're back."

Harry was walking up the stairs to their room, shedding a piece of clothing with every step and clutching the box in his hand. Hermione took the box from him at the bedroom door, kissed his shoulder, and went back into their bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Harry's expression held no reaction to her greeting as he walked heavily in the room, put his glasses on his bureau and flopped face-first on the bed at an odd angle, unmoving. He heard his wife moving around in the bathroom, and a minute later she opened the door, clicked the light off, and made her way to the bed, giggling as she saw Harry.

"Aw, poor baby. Too tired?" she cooed to him, climbing on the bed on all fours and rubbing his back a little.

He muffled something into the covers. She laughed. "I can't hear you."

Harry rolled over onto his back and she straddled his waist playfully. He blinked. "I don't care if we have to fill every drawer or cabinet in this entire household to prevent running out, but I will never, ever, ever participate in the act of purchasing feminine products for you again. I love you, and I would do anything for you." He shut his eyes. "But I won't do that."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, and was about to ask, but his breathing was suddenly slow and even. He was asleep.

"Oh, you," she said quietly, brushing his bangs off his forehead and pressing her lips to his scar. And, not bothering to put them at a proper angle on the bed, she settled on top of him, her head against his chest, and slipped into slumber by the sound of his heart beating.