Chapter 1609 - Ch: 9-11

Chapter 9

Lana woke up confused. The first thing she felt was weight and warmth. The second thing was a hard muscle under her cheek, breathing in and out. She could instantly tell that it was Harry underneath her. He had his own natural scent that Lana particularly loved. Her arm was draped across his chest, her leg thrown over both of his, and her pelvis was pressed right up against something that made her stomach do a slow somersault.

She didn't move. It was too embarrassing. She'd fallen asleep on the couch, tightly clinging to Harry. He was breathing slowly. His mouth was slightly open, his hair was in complete disarray, and his body was wrapped around her like a blanket. Lana tried to focus on the sound of his breathing, but her brain had already noticed something else … her own body's reaction to him.

Her nipples, pressed under two layers of fabric, were stiff and tingly. Her thighs squeezed around his, and the inside of her underwear felt embarrassingly wet. She tried to shift her hips back, but his arm was slung around her waist, keeping her pressed against him. Harry's body was really warm. His hand was resting on the small of her back, and the tips of his fingers were brushing against the bare skin between the top of her jeans and the bottom of her shirt.

Lana's cheeks went red. She peeked at his face, and for a second, forgot how to breathe. His eyes were closed, and his dark lashes were long and thick. There was the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, like he was having a nice dream. She wanted to touch his jaw, maybe kiss the corner of his mouth, but her courage withered. Instead, she stared, pretending she wasn't as into this as she actually was.

Her heart thudded loud enough to wake the dead. She tried to focus on something boring, like calculus, but it didn't help. The rise and fall of his chest made her breasts move with him. She thought about moving, but she didn't want to. There was a pleasant comfort in being held so tightly.

Soft morning light came in through the space between the curtains, leaving a golden slash across her living room floor. Harry's breathing changed, and for a second, Lana panicked. She shut her eyes and pretended to sleep. He gave a soft grunt, then shifted his hips. His thigh slipped between hers, and the pressure made her shudder. Lana bit her lip but didn't move. Harry's thumb brushed across her side just under her ribs. She had to think about hungry orphans and pop quizzes to keep herself from losing it.

He yawned, and there was a flash of green light behind her eyelids, like a camera flash. Suddenly, Lana's mouth felt fresh and clean, like she'd just used mouthwash. Every tooth felt polished, and her tongue tingled. She almost laughed, but held it in. She pretended to wake up, blinking slowly. Harry was staring at the ceiling, his face slack and dreamy.

She lifted her head, her dark hair sticking up in every direction, and made a weak attempt to keep some dignity. "Sorry," she said in a raspy, tired voice. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you … or, um … to crush you."

Harry turned to her, his green eyes barely open, and smiled teasingly. "You're not crushing me, but if you want to give it a try, I'm not going to stop you."

Lana's face burned. His tired voice was even sexier than his normal voice, Lana discovered. She rolled off him, a little too fast, and almost fell off the couch. She sat up, pulling her shirt down and covering her belly. Harry followed, propping himself up on his elbows while watching her.

He stretched, and the shirt pulled up his stomach, exposing a slice of pale skin and the top of his hips. Lana looked away, very aware of the damp spot between her legs. She rubbed her eyes and tried to get her bearings. Harry didn't move, just kept watching her with that sleepy half-grin. "Good morning," he said.

She risked a glance at him. "Good morning."

They sat in silence for a second. Lana's mind screamed at her to say something, anything. She settled for "Did you sleep okay?"

Harry nodded. "It was great. You're really warm." His eyes lingered on her face, then dropped to her mouth. "You have the best bed-head I've ever seen, by the way."

She snorted while frantically smoothing out her messy hair. "You're an idiot."

"I've been called worse," he said and yawned again.

She shook her head and stood, stretching her back and shoulders. "Do you want coffee?" she asked as she moved toward the kitchen.

"That sounds good," Harry said, rubbing his tired eyes with the butts of his palms.

In the kitchen, Lana poured water into the coffeemaker with trembling hands. She tried to ignore the heat spreading in her chest and between her legs. She thought about what it would be like to crawl back onto the couch, straddle his hips, and just let go. The mental image made her knees weak. Lana took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. She was being ridiculous.

She put two mugs on the counter, then realized her underwear was sticking out above the waistband of her jeans. She yanked her shirt down, but it was too late. She caught Harry watching her from across the room. He comically wiggled his eyebrows, which made her blush and turn away. She huffed when she heard him chuckle.

She brought him a cup, handed it over, and sat close enough that their legs touched. They drank in silence, both still tired. The apartment was calm. The storm outside had passed, leaving everything wet and bright. Lana sipped her coffee and stared at Harry's hands. She tried not to think about how good they'd felt on her skin or how they'd held her all night. She tried and failed miserably.

Harry finished his coffee and set the mug in the sink. His spine popped as he stretched his arms overhead. He yawned and padded over to the window. He pulled aside the curtain. The early morning light made him squint. The sun was just rising over the distant tree tops. Main Street looked like a disaster zone. Wet branches were scattered across the asphalt. A garbage can lay on its side, and soggy newspapers were fused to the curb. The sign on the bakery's awning flapped by a single screw. The sky was stripped clean by the wind, with not a cloud in sight.

Lana silently joined him. She stood close enough that her shoulder pressed against his bicep. He could feel the tension in her muscles. She stared at the chaos, her eyes wide and surprised. "It's worse than I thought," she said. Her voice was low.

Harry nodded. "I'm glad it's Sunday. I wouldn't fancy going to school in this mess."

She didn't laugh. She touched the glass with her fingertips, staring past the wreckage. He looked at her and studied her expression. The fear from last night wasn't gone. It simmered under the surface, showing in the tightness of her jaw and the way she held her breath. He wanted to try to make her feel better, but he waited.

Lana turned to him. "Harry? What am I supposed to do?" Her lips trembled. "He's still out there. Whoever it was. He knows where I live. What if he tries again?"

Harry met her gaze. "He won't," he said. "I'll make sure of it."

She searched his face. She wanted to believe him, but it wasn't like he could always be here. As if he was reading her mind, he asked, "Do you want me to stay with you? Just until you feel safe."

Lana hesitated, then nodded. Her blush rose, staining her neck and cheeks. She said nothing, but stepped up and pressed against his chest. Her arms slipped around his waist. He returned her hug, resting his chin on the top of her head. Her body shook once, then relaxed. He held her. His hand traced slow, careful circles between her shoulder blades. Lana's breath steadied. She pressed her ear against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

The Last Guardian

Lana had no intention of getting out of bed. While their first night together on the couch was really nice, the following morning was quite embarrassing for her. It was the first time she had ever woken up next to a man, so she wasn't used to it. When Harry agreed to stay with her, she didn't really think about their sleeping arrangements. She told him that he could sleep in the bed, and she'd sleep on the couch. Harry replied that he'd take the couch. After some back-and-forth, Lana said they could share the bed. Now that she knew what was in store, she felt she could handle it better. The first night, she made an effort to keep space between them. The second night, there was much less space between them, and she woke up pressed against his side. After that, she decided to throw caution to the wind. Lana was sick of trying to deny her attraction to him. She'd do whatever felt right and deal with the consequences later.

She was still bundled up against Harry with her nose pressed under his jaw, and her limbs entangled with his. The alarm on her nightstand went off at six. Lana slammed her hand down on it, then let herself drift right back to sleep. She didn't know that Harry was already awake and just lying there, waiting to see what she'd do.

At seven, the alarm on her phone went off. She ignored it. Harry snorted and tightened his grip. He played with the small hairs on the back of her neck, making her mewl into his neck. He enjoyed the warmth of her soft body. At nine, there was a loud crash of breaking plates down in the Talon, which had reopened with Clark's mom running things, and this time she bolted upright, wild-eyed with her hair sticking up in every direction.

"Oh my god," she said, scrambling to untangle herself from Harry and the thick blanket. "I overslept. I'm going to be late."

Harry blinked, feigning confusion. "I thought today was Saturday."

She glared at him, finger-combing her hair. "It's Wednesday! We have school, you idiot!" She jumped out of bed, winced at the chill in the room, and started frantically searching for something to wear. She nearly tripped over her shoes as she scrambled around the room.

Harry stayed in bed and yawned. "It's fine. I'm sure you're not the only one who is …" he checked the clock " … two hours late."

Lana went pale. "Two hours?"

He picked up her phone and showed it to her. The display said 9:07. She smacked it out of his hand. "That's your fault for keeping me up so late," she said in a panic.

He rolled over and covered his face with Lana's pillow. It smelled really good. "What can I say? My childhood tales are riveting."

She disappeared into the bathroom. The shower turned on, and he heard her jump inside. Harry waited, still sprawled on the bed, listening to Lana curse and fumble with her hair dryer and the zipper of her jeans. She flew out of the bathroom a minute later, wearing a gray t-shirt, tight jeans, and a towel around her neck. "Dang it! I forgot deodorant," she hissed and went back into the bathroom.

Harry started to laugh. She came out, saw his smile, and glared harder. "Why are you so calm? We're late, Harry!"

"Because I care about school way less than you do," Harry said with a smile.

She checked for her keys, wallet, and phone, then reached for her shoes. "Hurry up and get dressed, or I'm leaving you behind."

He sat up, stretched, and with a flash of green light, was suddenly in his jeans and a t-shirt. She gave him an exasperated look.

"That's cheating," Lana muttered. "I want that power."

Harry shrugged and picked up her bag for her. She snatched it from his hand and stomped out the door. Harry followed, smiling to himself. He liked seeing her like this. It was quite endearing.

They barely made it to her car. Lana fumbled with her keys, then dropped them twice in the parking lot. Harry picked them up the second time and calmly handed them over. Lana snatched them back and jammed the key into the ignition. The engine coughed and shuddered to life. She hit the gas, peeled out of the parking lot, and made a hard right onto Main Street.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" she demanded, eyes locked on the road.

"I woke you up yesterday, and you almost bit my finger," Harry said, deadpan.

She gripped the wheel so tight her knuckles went white. "That's because you were tickling my nose. You could've just poked me, or … or set an alarm, or something."

"You did set an alarm," Harry pointed out. "You ignored it."

Lana huffed and blew a lock of hair from her eyes. "You should have tried harder. You're the one who kept me up until one in the morning talking about haunted castles and dragons and stuff."

He shrugged. "I thought you liked my stories."

She side-eyed him, then softened a little. "I do, but I also like graduating."

Harry nodded, then turned his attention to the world outside the windshield. The town was still messed up from the storm. Tree limbs littered the sides of the roads, and the traffic lights at the intersection flashed uselessly. The school's parking lot was already packed. Lana squeezed her car into the first open spot she found, then yanked the keys out and sprinted for the front doors. Harry trailed behind at a more reasonable pace, enjoying the cool morning. Lana made it through the main entrance and stopped dead. Harry nearly ran into her. She fumbled with her phone again and double-checked the time.

"There's a test in third period. If I miss it, Ms. Crampton will murder me," she said, panic creeping into her voice.

Harry tried not to smile. "You can always copy off me."

She stared at him, her lovely eyes narrow. "You'd fail on purpose just to watch me squirm."

"You give me too much credit. I'd fail because I forgot to study," he said with a smile. Lana snorted and smacked his arm.

She made a beeline for her locker, spinning the combination with muscle memory. Harry leaned against the neighboring locker and watched her stuff her bag inside. She slammed it shut, adjusted her shirt, and took off down the hall without looking back. Harry snorted and shook his head. Lana in crisis mode was the purest form of entertainment there was. He took his time getting to his own class.

Smallville High was the same as always. The halls were noisy and loud. Harry drifted to class, sat in the back, and tried to nap with his eyes open. After the bell rang, Chloe slid into the seat next to him.

"You stayed up all night again, huh?" Chloe asked, dropping her bag with a thud. "Still, you look better than you did yesterday."

Harry cracked one eye open. "That's the worst compliment I've ever heard."

She shrugged, not smiling. "I just call it like I see it."

He studied her. There was something off about her today. Chloe was usually sharp, sarcastic, and bubbly, but today she looked bummed. Her eyes were dim, and the corners of her mouth were tilted slightly downward. He waited for her to say more, but she just stared straight ahead, hands folded in her lap.

"What's wrong?" he asked, genuinely.

She kept her eyes on the chalkboard. "Nothing," Chloe said, but her voice was too flat for him to believe it. He waited, and she cracked first. "It's just … Clark," she finally said.

"What about him?"

Chloe picked at the edge of her sleeve. "Ever since he made the football team, it's like … he doesn't have time for anything else. He even quit the Torch this morning." The Torch was the school's newspaper, and Chloe was the Editor-in-Chief.

Harry nodded. He'd seen this type of thing before. "People get weird about sports … or so I've been told." He remembered back to his Quidditch days with Oliver Wood.

She snorted. "Yeah, well, it's Smallville. If you don't play football, you're basically invisible." Her lips pressed together.

Harry remembered what Lana had told him about Chloe's thing for Clark. "Maybe he's just busy. Maybe he'll come around."

She looked at him. "I don't think he will."

Harry put a hand on her forearm. "It's his loss."

She gave a wobbly smile. "Thanks." Then she looked at his hand on her arm, then back at his face. "You know, you're one of the few in this school who doesn't think I'm a total freak for taking journalism seriously."

He shrugged. "I've always liked freaks."

She almost laughed, but the teacher came in and smacked the attendance clipboard on the desk. "Quiet," the teacher said, looking directly at Harry. "We're starting."

Harry lowered his hand. Chloe sat up straighter and tried to look attentive, but Harry could feel her mind racing with a thousand worries. He thought about helping, but he decided to let her process it for herself.

Class dragged on. He filled out the answers in record time, then spent the rest of the hour doodling on the back of his worksheet. When the bell rang, Chloe waited for him outside the classroom. She didn't say anything, but when he caught up, she fell in beside him.

In the hall, a weird energy buzzed. Harry saw a group of football players clustering by the vending machines. They were waiting on a pack of cheerleaders, who giggled and pranced around in front of them. However, the dynamic was off. The football players weren't hitting on them or even joking. They just stood there, smiling and nodding at every word the cheerleaders said.

Harry watched for a second, then nudged Chloe. "What's up with that?"

Chloe squinted at the group. "They've been doing that all day. My guess is someone spiked the Gatorade with horse tranquilizers."

Harry snorted. "Should we call animal control?"

Chloe smiled. "I'm more concerned about the cheerleaders. They're usually the ones who run the school, but this is … excessive." She watched as one of the football players bent down to tie a cheerleader's shoe, then followed her down the hallway with puppy-dog eyes.

"See what I mean?" Chloe whispered. "It's like they're hypnotized."

Harry watched a little longer. He didn't know much about American schools, but even he could tell that this was bizarre. The cheerleaders didn't seem to notice, or maybe they liked the attention.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Come on. Our next class is on the other side of the building. If we run, we can make it."

He let her drag him through the hallways, weaving between clusters of students and slipping past the late bell. She led him to chemistry, where the teacher already had beakers bubbling and was yelling at an idiot for heating a penny over a Bunsen burner. Harry took his seat at the back and wondered how Lana was doing in her own classes.

After the final bell, Chloe stood up and sighed. "I need to work on the Torch for a bit. You want to come with?"

Harry shrugged and nodded. "Sure. It's better than wandering the halls aimlessly."

They made their way to the journalism room. Chloe opened her laptop and started typing furiously. She glanced at Harry every so often, as if checking to make sure he was still there. After a few minutes, she said, "Hey, you want to see something weird?"

Harry grinned. "Is it a picture of Clark in a tutu? Because that would make my day."

She smiled a little. "No, but close." She turned her screen so Harry could see. On it was a draft of her latest story for the Torch.

It read, "Quarterback Tries to Shoot Coach with Shotgun."

Harry laughed. "Is that real?"

Chloe nodded. "It happened yesterday. The star quarterback actually brought a shotgun to practice and tried to turn the coach into Swiss cheese." She scrolled down and pointed to a quote. "No one even blinked. They just suspended him and carried on."

"Who is this coach?" Harry asked.

Chloe's face went dark. "He used to be Lana's boyfriend. Now he's stuck here, teaching PE and coaching football. That's weird, right?"

"That's … awkward," Harry said. From what Lana had told him, Harry knew Jason worked at the school, but he was unaware that he was a coach. Frankly, Harry found it quite creepy that he continued to hang around. Still, he gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he couldn't afford to move just yet.

Chloe's fingers danced over the keyboard. "You have no idea, but there's something off about him. He lives here, but I never see him in town, and he's always watching Lana any time she's around."

Harry made a mental note. "Maybe you should lay off investigating him. If there's something off about him, you shouldn't risk putting yourself in a bad situation."

She snorted. "Please. I can handle myself. Besides, no one is more careful than I am," she said with a smile. For some reason, Harry didn't believe her. "I need to go get some quotes. You want to come and see a real, genuine high school football practice?

"Oh, goody. Just what I always dreamed," Harry said in a deadpan voice, which made Chloe laugh.

The Last Guardian

Football practice was held in the field behind the school. Harry watched from the sidelines as Chloe tried to talk to Clark, but he was in a rush. It seemed that since the team had lost its starting quarterback, Clark had taken the spot.

A whistle blew, and the team huddled on the sideline. A small group of cheerleaders showed up carrying a yellow water cooler. They set it down on a folding table and placed paper cups on the side. A whistle blasted again, and he watched the practice, not really interested until a water break. All the guys crowded around the big yellow cooler at the fifty-yard line. Harry noticed the color of the drink as one of the guys filled his cup. It was bright green, like antifreeze.

The players chugged it down. Chloe tried to talk to Clark, but Jason was yelling at him to get his ass into gear. Chloe sighed and approached the water cooler. Harry watched as Chloe filled a paper cup and gulped it down, then sighed. She glanced at Clark, then at Harry, and her entire demeanor changed. She stared at Clark with pure adoration, her eyes huge and dreamy. Harry had never seen her look like that. It was like something had turned her into a lovesick puppy.

He watched as she drifted over to Clark, started talking to him, and then started giggling at every stupid thing he said. She was even slightly arching her back to make her boobs look bigger.

Harry shook his head. "What's going on with her?"

He didn't have long to wonder. A cold, prickly sensation ran up his spine. He turned and saw Jason Teague standing at the edge of the field, clipboard in hand. Jason's gaze was fixed on Harry, and there was no warmth in his eyes. Pure hatred radiated from him. He had the look of a man who had already planned Harry's murder in six different ways.

Harry nodded politely, but Jason didn't respond. He just stared, tightly clutching the clipboard. It was uncomfortable, but Harry refused to look away. He stared right back. After a long minute, Jason turned and stalked off toward the goalposts.

Harry watched him go, then turned back to the field. Lana was waving at him, motioning for him to come over. He walked toward her, weaving around the crowd. She met him at the edge of the parking lot, still a little out of breath from her meeting with the teacher.

"Sorry, I'm late. Mr. Roberts lectured me on the merits of being punctual, which is funny because he's always five minutes late to class," she said with a smile. Everyone knew Mr. Roberts enjoyed his smoke breaks after every class. "Anyway, are you ready to head home?"

Harry took one last look at Chloe, who was bouncing up and down with excitement and shouting words of encouragement at Clark. He wasn't sure what was going on with her, but he decided to wait and see if she was still acting goofy in the morning. He smiled at Lana. "Sure. Let's go."

They started walking back to her car. Behind them, Chloe was still on the field, orbiting Clark like he was her own personal sun.

The Last Guardian

From across the field, Jason watched them go. He tracked every step, every word, every smile. He watched as Lana laughed and clung to Harry's arm, her head tilted back and her mouth wide open in joy. He watched as Harry bent down and said something that made her laugh even louder.

He clenched his jaw so tight it felt like his teeth would crack. He had warned Lana about Harry. He had told her not to get too close, that he could be dangerous. The guy just happened to show up out of nowhere and steal her away from him? Jason snorted. Yeah, sure. Something was up with him, but of course, she didn't listen. Nobody ever listened to him. He watched them walk off the field together, Harry's arm around Lana's waist. He had warned her.

Jason turned and smacked his clipboard against his thigh. She went back to the cooler and got himself another cold cup of that tasty green stuff. He glared at the field, then back at Harry.

This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

The Last Guardian

After school the next day, Harry was in the library waiting for Lana when Lois Lane found him. She just barreled in, dropped her messenger bag on the table, and jabbed a finger at his chest.

"You," she said, "Are coming with me."

Harry looked up from his book. "Can it wait? I'm doing important research."

She grabbed his notebook and checked the page. It was covered in doodles of spaceships, stick figure women with large, round boobs, and something that looked suspiciously like the principal with devil horns. "Wow, you really are dedicated to academic excellence, aren't you?"

Harry closed the book and leaned back. "What's up, Lois?"

She glanced around, then leaned in. "Have you noticed anything weird about Chloe lately?"

Harry kept his face blank, but his mind raced. "Define weird."

Lois gripped the edge of the table. "She quit the Torch, Harry. Quit. The. Torch. That's like Clark deciding to quit football to become a dancer."

Harry let that mental image settle. "Why'd she do that?"

"She said she wanted to 'devote herself to Clark' and that journalism was 'a waste of time compared to true love.'" Lois's voice cracked a little at the end. Lois studied him. "You were with her yesterday. Did you see anything?"

"We went to football practice so she could get some quotes about that quarterback guy. She started to look at Clark really strangely," Harry told her.

"Yeah, and today she showed up at my locker with a poem about Clark's hair." Lois looked genuinely shaken. "Have you ever seen Chloe write poetry before?"

Harry shook his head. "She's more of a snarky headline type."

Lois stared at the far wall. "So it started yesterday … Did anything weird happen?"

Harry thought for a second. "She drank from the football team's water cooler before she started acting weird. That stuff was bright green. Do you think it's a drug or something?"

Lois's eyes lit up. "Let's go," she said, and before he could object, she yanked him out of his seat and dragged him through the library, past the librarian's withering glare, and out to the back field.

The Last Guardian

The football field was swarming with athletes and coaches. The cheerleaders were practicing near the end zone, doing high kicks with bright, bubbly smiles. The football team did endless wind sprints. Their faces were flushed, and their hair was slick with sweat. On the sideline, the yellow water cooler gleamed in the sun.

Lois led the way, then crouched behind a row of portable bleachers. She poked Harry in the ribs. "There," she said. "That's where it's coming from."

He peeked out. The team was on break. Several guys crowded around the cooler, filling up paper cups with the bright, alien-looking liquid.

Lois pulled a small plastic cup from her bag. "Cover me," she whispered.

Harry rolled his eyes. "From what? The hydration police?"

Lois was already moving, ducking low and sprinting for the cooler. She poured herself a cup, sniffed it, and her face twisted. "That is not Gatorade," she said. "Taste it."

Harry took the cup from her and tried a sip. It tasted like melted sour apple Jolly Ranchers mixed with something weird-tasting. His tongue tingled, and the inside of his head felt fizzy.

"Gross," he said, wiping his mouth. "Just a tiny sip made my brain feel kind of fuzzy."

Lois nodded. "Now we wait," she said, glancing back at the team.

It didn't take long. Chloe showed up, wearing a full cheerleader getup, complete with pom-poms. She bounced over, ponytail swinging, and flashed them both a smile.

"Hi, Harry!" she chirped. "Hi, Lois!"

Lois blinked. "Um, hi?"

Chloe giggled, then looked at Harry. "Are you here to see Clark? He's so dreamy today. Did you know he ran the forty in like four seconds? That's like, faster than a sports car."

Harry tried not to laugh. "Impressive."

Chloe bounced on her toes. "You know what else is impressive? Clark's hair. I think he started using product, but I'm not supposed to say anything." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It's our secret."

Lois made a face. "Chloe, are you feeling okay?"

Chloe's eyes went wide. "Of course! I've never felt better! I just want Clark to win every game forever." She stared off into the distance, her eyes glassy. "He's so perfect."

Harry shot a look at Lois, who mouthed, "Told you."

Chloe snapped back to reality. "Oh! Gotta go. Practice is starting!" She ran off, waving at them with both pom-poms. "GO CLARK!" Chloe shouted in the distance, doing a very poor attempt at a jump split.

Harry watched her go. "She's out of her mind."

Lois glared at the water cooler. "I'm getting to the bottom of this." She pulled out her phone and started taking pictures of the cooler, the cups, and the entire sideline setup.

Harry pointed at the field. "You know, you could just ask Clark."

Lois shook her head. "If Clark were roped into some creepy cheerleader mind-control scheme, he'd be the last to know. The guy's completely oblivious."

Harry couldn't argue with that.

As Lois secured a sample, Jason Teague walked up to the cooler. He wore a whistle and an air of superiority. He saw Harry, then scowled. "You're not supposed to be here," Jason said.

Harry shrugged. "I'm just supporting the team."

Jason sneered. "Is that so?"

Harry smiled and nodded. "I'm bursting with school spirit." Lois snorted beside him.

Jason poured himself a cup of the green liquid and drank it down in one gulp. He fixed Harry with a cold stare. "You see all of this?" he asked, sweeping his hand to show off the football field. "This is my house, and school spirit won't save you when you're in my house."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Did you just threaten me?"

Jason leaned in, voice low. "Stay the hell away from Lana, and stay away from my team."

Harry didn't move. "Last I checked, Lana's not your property."

Jason's jaw tightened. He turned, slammed the empty cup into the trash, and stalked off. Lois waited until he was out of earshot before nudging Harry.

"You've got a real talent for making friends, you know that?"

Harry grinned. "I try," he said in an amused voice.

They watched the rest of practice from the stands. The team was a well-oiled machine, executing every drill with precision. The cheerleaders cheered, the football players glistened with sweat, and Chloe lost her mind every time Clark so much as looked in her direction.

When it was over, Harry and Lois watched the team crowd around the cooler one last time. Every single player except Clark filled up a cup, chugged it, and then went directly to the waiting cheerleaders.

Lois stared at the scene and shook her head. "I need to do some research. I want to know what those pom-pom waving bimbos are up to."

Harry nodded, watching Chloe hang off Clark's arm as they walked toward the locker rooms. "Should we tell her?" he asked.

Lois shook her head. "Not yet. Let's wait until we know for sure. Besides, who knows? Maybe Clark will realize that he actually likes her." Harry doubted it, but he didn't say so.

They walked off the field together, leaving the bright yellow cooler and its weird green liquid behind.

Chapter 10

It was nearly midnight by the time Harry walked back to the Talon. Smallville looked deserted at this hour. A thick fog had rolled in, making it hard to see more than a few feet in front of him. The shop windows were all dark except for the faint neon glow of a sign down the block. Harry tried not to think about the weirdness with Chloe, the water cooler, or the way Jason's eyes burned a hole through his skull at practice. His brain kept circling back to Lana, who was waiting for him in the apartment above the Talon. One of her friends had asked her if she could borrow some of her notes. Lana, of course, agreed and said she'd bring them right over. However, Harry said he'd take them instead. It was just a couple of blocks down the street, and he could be back in a flash if something happened.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out, glanced at the display, and answered without breaking stride. "Hey, Lois," he said.

"I called you earlier, and you didn't answer. Where are you?" she asked. There was noise in the background. It sounded like maybe a TV or a radio.

"Heading home," he said. "Why, do you miss me already?" Harry teased. Lois snorted.

"If that'll help fuel your macho fantasies, then sure, but that's not why I called." Lois's voice sounded tight, even for her. "I've been digging. You remember that whole 'cheerleaders gone wild' thing at practice?"

Harry snorted. "It's kind of hard to forget. Though I have to admit, Chloe did look cute in that cheerleader outfit." He could practically hear Lois rolling her eyes.

"Well, get this," she said. "The head cheerleader, Mandy, got suspended from AP Chemistry at the end of last year for messing around with the lab equipment. The Principal's office covered it up, but I got the records." She paused for effect. "She and her three little clones did a 'science project' that was basically a cover for screwing with a psychoactive chemical called phenylethylamine."

Harry stopped walking. The Talon's blue and pink neon lights flickered further down the street. "You think they cooked up that green stuff themselves?" he asked.

"Bingo. They call it the 'love molecule'. It didn't work very well, but apparently, they found a way to supercharge it," Lois said. "Clark says the football team's been acting like love-sick zombies."

Harry blew out a breath, watching it fog in the cold air. "So what's the plan?"

"I'm going to confront the ringleader," Lois said. "I'll ambush her at school tomorrow. If you never see me again, assume I've been cheerleadered to death."

Harry laughed, but there was a tightness in his chest. "Be careful, Lois. They're not playing around."

"I know. You, too." She hung up.

Harry pocketed the phone and started toward the Talon. He had a bad feeling about this whole thing. He cut down the alley beside the Talon, skipping the lit front door for the shadowed side entrance. He reached for the handle, but something pricked at the edge of his senses. He spun, but too late.

The first shot hit him dead-center in the back. It felt like being punched by a sledgehammer, the force slamming him forward into the brick wall. The second and third shots came in quick succession. One hit him in the ribs, and the other near the kidney. Harry dropped to his knees, gasping. He tried to turn and see who was shooting at him, but his legs wouldn't cooperate.

A shadow peeled itself off the far end of the alley, wearing black clothes and a black ski mask. The gun looked old, like the ones that cowboys used in those old western movies Harry watched as a kid. The shooter walked up slowly and deliberately and stood over Harry's twitching body.

The shooter leaned down, picked something up off the ground, and walked right past Harry toward the Talon's side door. Harry tried to yell, but his lungs seized up. Blood bubbled in his mouth. He reached for his magic, but it felt far away. His vision went blurry at the edges. He heard the door being unlocked and then opened. The door then closed with a click. The shooter was inside. Lana was inside.

Harry's vision went green, and a radiant light filled the alley and the inside of his skull. He clawed at the ground, digging his fingers into the concrete. He forced himself upright, and the pain spread through his back and stomach. He tasted blood as it ran down his chin.

He pushed his powers outward, willing his body to repair itself. The green light pulsed around him, sealing the worst of the wounds and numbing the agony to something he could manage. It was sloppy work, but it would do for now.

He staggered to the door, fumbled with the handle, and went inside. The Talon was dark, and all the chairs were resting upside down on the table tops. Upstairs, he heard the sound of something heavy slamming against the floor, followed by a crash and the sound of glass breaking. Then Lana let out a high-pitched, panicked scream that sent his pulse racing.

He moved up the stairs, half running, half falling. He reached the top just in time to see Lana's apartment door splinter off its hinges. The shooter was inside, and his gun was still drawn. Lana was backed into the far corner, clutching a heavy glass lamp. Her hands were shaking, but she looked ready to fight. The shooter advanced on her.

Harry blasted the gun out of the man's hand with a green bolt that left a burn on the drywall. The shooter spun, caught off guard. Harry lunged, moving faster than the pain would allow, and grabbed the man by the throat. They crashed into the wall. The man tried to knee Harry in the stomach, but the pain barely registered. Harry squeezed and lifted until the man's feet left the floor. Lana screamed again, "Harry, look out!"

The shooter yanked a knife from his belt and buried it in Harry's thigh. Harry barely felt it. He headbutted the man with a sickening crunch and felt the mask go wet with blood. With his free hand, Harry grabbed the shooter's collar and hurled him straight through the living room window. The glass exploded outward, showering the street below. The shooter hit the ground two stories down, rolled, and got up limping. He looked up, mask askew, but the heavy fog hid his identity. The man turned and ran as fast as he could with a heavy limp.

Harry watched as the man darted into the alley. He lifted his hand, summoned his power, and let loose a bolt of green energy. It tore a foot-deep gouge in the blacktop, but missed the runner by a foot. The man vanished into the darkness.

Harry sagged against the window frame. The pain hit all at once, like a million needles stabbing every nerve. He moved back into the living room, catching himself on the coffee table.

Lana didn't stop shaking. The adrenaline made her teeth chatter and her legs wobble. She ripped open the kitchen cabinet for a first aid kit and dumped it onto the table, fumbling through the gauze, tape, and antiseptic. "Sit down," she said. Her voice cracked. "Please, Harry, just … sit."

He obeyed, slumping onto the edge of the couch, blood soaking through the back of his shirt and pooling on the fabric. She grabbed the scissors from the kit, cut up the side seam, and peeled the ruined t-shirt away from his skin. Her hands came away slick and red.

"Oh my god," she said. She saw three holes punched clean through his back, ringed with shredded skin and muscle. She could see bone and a lot of other things she never wanted to see again. "Harry, you need a doctor," she said. "We need to call 911."

He shook his head. "No hospitals." His voice was hoarse, but the edge was still there. "They'll ask too many questions. I can fix it."

She was on the verge of tears, but she bit it down and pulled open the bottle of alcohol. "This is going to hurt."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the ridiculousness of her statement. He had three bullets in his back, and she was worried about the sting of rubbing alcohol.

She doused the wounds, then packed them with gauze. Harry grabbed the knife handle and ripped the knife from his thigh with a pained hiss. Lana yelped loudly and jumped. She looked at him like he was crazy. Harry closed his eyes and focused. The air shimmered around him. A green glow built under his skin, starting small, then burning brighter until it painted his veins with emerald light.

Lana pulled her hand away and watched in numb horror as the bullet wounds began sealing themselves shut. The shredded muscle knitted together, and the skin closed over as if time was running in reverse. Right before his skin sealed shut, three slugs popped out and landed in her palm. They were still warm.

He groaned, then slumped forward, breathing hard. The blood on his back and arms dissolved, replaced with clean, unmarked skin. His breathing slowed, but he didn't look good.

Lana stared at the bullets in her hand, then at Harry's back, then at the broken window. "That's … how did you … " She couldn't finish the sentence. She pressed a towel to his side anyway, needing to do something.

He laughed, then coughed. "It's not as fun as it looks."

"You scared me," she whispered. "You almost died."

He looked at her with a crooked grin. "Nah. You'd miss me too much if I did."

She dropped the towel and started laughing, but it turned into a sob halfway through. She sat down hard next to him, still clutching the bullets. He wrapped an arm around her waist to console her. Harry then looked around, noticed the broken glass, and snapped his fingers. The window reassembled itself, shards flying back into place with a faint, musical sound. The splintered door stood itself up and rejoined the frame. When he was done, there was no trace of the violence left. Even the blood on the couch and floor disappeared.

Lana gawked at the window, then back at him. "You're unreal."

He squeezed her and then unwound his arm. "It's all part of my charm."

She wiped her nose, then sat in silence. After a while, she asked, "Who was that? Why would someone want to kill you?"

"I'm not sure," he told her, but Harry had a sneaking suspicion of who it might have been. He didn't remind her that the person actually came for her. "But I'm going to find out."

"You look drained. I'm taking you to bed right now," Lana stated. She stood up to take charge of the situation, but Harry shook his head.

"I'll stand guard tonight. I doubt he'll return, but …"

"No buts," Lana said with finality.

He wanted to argue, but he didn't have the energy. He let her lead him down the hall to her room, the door closing softly behind them. Harry flared his powers, and the bedroom door suddenly disappeared. It was replaced by an empty stretch of wall. "Just in case," Harry said when Lana looked confused.

Lana went into the bathroom, changed into a long T-shirt, then pulled back the covers. Harry tiredly removed his clothes, leaving only his boxers on, and slid under the comforter. Lana then turned out the light and got in beside him.

She lay stiff on her back, arms at her sides, staring at the ceiling. Her body was still trembling from the waning adrenaline. She didn't move for a long moment. Then she turned to face him, pressed her forehead against his chest, and curled into his warmth. Harry wrapped his arm around her, holding her close.

After a while, she whispered, "Thank you for saving me again."

He kissed the top of her head while his hand traced slow circles on her back. "Anytime."

She relaxed, her soft body growing heavy against him.

The Last Guardian

Lana's alarm blared at six, and for once, she woke up on the very first ring. Lana could see through the crack in the curtain that the sun wasn't up yet. Reaching over to her nightstand, she turned on the light before lying back down. She lay in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin, staring at the slow, steady rise and fall of Harry's bare chest.

He was dead to the world. His eyes were softly closed, his hair was a mess, and he had one arm flung wide over the pillow and the other tangled around her waist. She'd never seen a man look so peaceful after being shot three times and stabbed. The only sign that last night had been real was the very faint red line on his ribs.

.

She let her eyes trace the line of his jaw, his light stubble, and the way his mouth slightly curled up at the corners when he slept. There was something playful about him, even in his unconsciousness. His lashes were thick and dark against his pale skin. She watched the shift of his body as he inhaled and exhaled. The alarm blared again. Harry's fingers twitched on her waist, but he didn't wake.

She wondered if she should let him sleep. After what he'd been through, maybe he deserved a little rest. Maybe, she thought, it would be better if he slept until she'd figured out what she should do. They were friends, but she'd felt his body pressed up against hers all night. It felt warm and safe. She'd dreamed about that feeling for hours, and now, she felt both nervous and excited about the possibilities.

Lana reached over him and slapped the alarm. She slid back into the crook of his arm and closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself pretend that this was completely normal. She thought about what it would be like to wake up with him as a boyfriend, instead of a superhuman wizard who was constantly having to save her life.

A minute later, Harry shifted and rolled onto his back, nearly pulling her with him. His eyes opened, still heavy with sleep. They were the same impossible green as always, but softer in the dim light. He blinked twice, looked down at her, and smiled handsomely.

"Morning," he said. His sleepy voice was deeper than usual. "Sleep well?"

Lana felt the blush in her ears before she felt it in her cheeks. She tried to cover her mouth, but her lips were already curling into a smile. "You could say that … if you don't count all the worrying I did," she answered honestly.

He stretched, arching his back and making a show of flexing every muscle. Lana tried not to stare, but it was hard not to. He caught her looking and grinned wider. "Enjoying the show?"

Lana rolled her eyes, but didn't look away. "You're insufferable," she said, smacking his belly. She laughed when he responded with a loud, "OOF!"

Harry rolled onto his side, propped his head on his hand, and stared at her for a long moment. "I hope you didn't worry too much last night," he said.

She shrugged and played with the edge of her comforter. "You did almost die."

He smiled kindly at her. "Believe it or not, I've been in worse shape before."

Lana didn't want to think about that. Instead, she reached out and touched the fading line on his ribs, tracing it with one finger. "It doesn't even look like it hurt."

Harry brushed his fingers over the top of her hand. That small gesture made her body tingle pleasantly. "It did, but it was worth it."

They looked at each other. She thought about the night before. She thought about the blood, the fear, and the horrific wounds she saw. She thought about how he'd held her after, even though he'd been injured so badly. She thought about the way he always joked and teased, but never once let her down. She wanted to ask what that meant for them, but she couldn't find the words.

Harry stopped playing with her hand, but kept his eyes on her face. "You want to get cleaned up?" he asked. "I think you've still got blood on your neck."

She touched her throat and felt a dried patch just below her ear. "Oh, gross," she said.

Harry laughed, and his eyes flashed bright green for a second. The sticky patch on her neck vanished. A ripple ran over her skin, and suddenly she felt fresher, as if she'd just stepped out of the shower. Her teeth were smooth, her hair fell neatly onto her shoulders, and the aches in her back disappeared. Lana jerked in surprise just as she always did.

"It's so not fair that you can just magic away the gross stuff."

He smirked. "You prefer the old-fashioned way?"

She thought about sharing a bathroom with him. She pictured them brushing their teeth side by side, bumping shoulders, and fighting over the sink. The thought made her smile.

"I'll go first," Lana said, and rolled out of bed. She went into her dresser and closet, choosing what she was going to wear. He checked out her smooth legs as she padded into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Harry heard her washing up. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face with both hands. He felt good and energized. By then, the pain from the gunshot wounds was a distant memory.

His body flared green, and he was suddenly dressed. He ran a hand through his hair, which refused to cooperate, and checked himself in the mirror. He looked the same as always, maybe a bit more tired around the eyes, but his color was good. His eyes, he noticed, almost glowed in the reflection.

He heard Lana brushing her teeth and humming something. She came out a few minutes later, wearing a loose gray sweater and a pair of tight jeans. She stared at Harry, then laughed. "Already dressed, I see," she said, looking him over.

"I'm very low-maintenance," he said with a smile.

They moved through the rest of the morning on autopilot. Lana made toast, and Harry fixed the coffee maker when it started making weird sounds. They ate together at the kitchen counter, shoulders touching. When it was time to leave, Lana hesitated by the front door. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked. "I mean … Maybe you need a day or two to recover."

Harry smiled, reached out, and rubbed her arm. "Stop worrying. I feel great," he said.

She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Good." They walked out to her car together, locking up behind them.

The Last Guardian

Harry sat in his last period class, watching the clock inch closer to freedom. He had no intention of staying late, but when the bell finally rang, he made a show of packing up slowly so he could avoid the stampede out the door. He saw Chloe and Clark in the hallway, Chloe practically skipping beside him. He shouldered his bag and followed at a distance.

The football field was as loud as always, but the mood was off. Harry stood on the edge of the bleachers, scanning the crowd. Clark was already on the field, helmet in hand, listening to a coach bark orders. Chloe bounced along the sideline in her cheerleader outfit, and her skirt swished with every step. Her cartwheel was less a wheel and more a lopsided flop, but she smiled so hard he thought her face might break.

Harry scanned for Jason, but the coach was nowhere to be seen. He waited, hoping to spot him, but the practice ran for half an hour with no sign of Lana's ex anywhere on the field. Jason was Harry's number one suspect, and it was highly suspicious that he was suddenly missing.

Chloe approached Harry, her steps light and flirty. "Did you come to cheer on Clark as well?" she asked, batting her lashes. The mascara was caked on, and there was a smear of glitter on each eyelid.

"Sure," Harry said. "You seem… energetic today."

Chloe giggled and twirled a pom-pom. "Go team!" she said, and then tried another cartwheel. She landed on her knees and got dirt all over them. She didn't even flinch as she hopped back to her feet.

Harry shook his head. "Why don't you take a break? Come sit beside me," Harry suggested, patting the spot next to him.

She smiled at him, but shook her head. "I can't. Clark needs me," she said, then scampered off to rejoin the others. Chloe did a high kick and nearly fell on her butt, and a group of football players snorted in amusement. This was getting out of hand.

Lois showed up ten minutes later. She wore tight jeans and a small zip-up sweater, with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She stalked toward Harry, dodging an airborne football on the way. "The cheerleaders are having a pool party in the school tonight," she said in a low voice. "I got Clark on board. You just have to back me up."

Harry eyed her. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Do you have a better one?" Lois asked.

He shook his head. "Not unless you want me to seduce the entire cheerleading squad and get the truth out of them that way. Actually, that doesn't sound like a bad plan."

She shot him an unimpressed look, then leaned in. "Here's the deal. The ringleader, Mandy, keeps the formula for the antidote in a folder in her bag. We just have to get it."

Harry nodded. "That sounds simple enough."

Lois eyed him. "Clark's going to distract Mandy. You and I sneak in, grab the bag, and get out. Then we can fix Chloe and everyone else."

Harry watched as Clark tossed a perfect spiral down the field. Mandy bounced around and cheered Clark's name. "They really do make a cute couple," he said, just to annoy Lois.

She thumped him on the arm, which made Harry chuckle. Lois rolled her eyes, then stalked off, but not before tossing him a thumbs-up. Harry watched her go, wondering how this small farm town had gotten so strange.

The Last Guardian

Later that night, the halls of Smallville High were empty except for the janitor and a handful of teachers setting up for a PTA meeting. Harry skulked along the side corridors and met Lois at the east entrance just as they'd planned. She wore tight black pants and an equally tight black shirt. He had to admit, she looked pretty hot.

"You look like you're about to rob the Smallville Savings and Loan," Harry whispered.

She smirked. "Who says I'm not? You ready?"

He nodded, and they snuck in. They kept to the shadows, creeping past the band room and the faculty lounge. They reached the pool room and peeked through the window. It was packed with jocks and cheerleaders. The pool was open, and every single person in there was dripping wet and half-naked, squealing, splashing, and wrestling in the water. The girls wore bright, tiny swimsuits, and the guys had all stripped to their trunks. It looked like a scene from an over-the-top teen comedy.

Harry stared at the cheerleaders, and it took him a minute to realize Lois was talking. "Do you see her?" she asked in a sharp whisper.

He blinked. "Sorry, I got distracted."

She punched him in the shoulder. "Keep your eyes on the prize, Potter. You're as bad as the rest of them."

He grinned. "That's a low blow, Lois. I'm just appreciative of their choice in swimwear. You may not know this, but I'm a bit of a fashionista myself." Lois snorted in response.

"Yeah … I'm sure it's their bikinis you're ogling. If you'd just put your tongue back in your mouth, we could …" Harry shushed her.

She glared as Harry whispered, "Look! It's Clark."

Lois hip bumped him out of the way and looked through the window. Mandy hugged Clark's arm, then took him by the hand. She then led him away from the pool and into the locker room. "That's our cue. Let's go," she told him.

They slipped through the boys' locker room, empty except for a pair of towels on the floor and a rank smell of sweat. Lois peeked around the corner and motioned Harry forward. "There," she whispered.

Mandy, in a brightly colored bikini, was perched on a weight bench with her arms around Clark, who was wearing nothing but blue trunks. She was straddling his lap with her tongue shoved down his throat. Harry gave her some credit. The girl was relentless.

"Not bad," Harry muttered, admiring Mandy's commitment.

Lois elbowed him. "Pipe down and stay here. I'll get the bag."

Harry ducked behind a row of lockers and watched as Lois slipped into the room, keeping low and quiet. She moved like she'd done this before, hugging the shadows and pausing every time Mandy giggled, or Clark shifted on the bench. Lois crawled on her hands and knees and reached for the bag. She quietly grabbed it and crawled behind a desk. Lois unzipped the bag, pawed through it, and then froze.

Mandy turned, still on Clark's lap. "Did you hear something?"

Clark turned her head back toward him. "Umm … maybe the janitor?"

Mandy pursed her lips, then shrugged and started sucking on Clark's neck again. Lois exhaled, dug in the bag, and found what she was looking for. She took out a thick manila folder and tucked it under her shirt. Then, with a quick, nimble crawl, she darted all the way back to Harry.

"Got it," she mouthed.

"Let's go," he said, and together they hustled down the hallway.

They made it down the stairs and toward the basement, Harry leading the way. He ducked into the boiler room, which was dim and full of echoing pipes. Lois slammed the door behind them and put her back to it. She pulled the folder out from under her shirt and began looking through it while Harry scanned the room for exits. He spotted a door on the far side, but before he could suggest it, something heavy smashed into the back of his head. His vision went white. He hit the ground and rolled over, blinking away the stars.

Standing over him, wielding a thick length of pipe, was Chloe. Her eyes were wild and glassy. She raised the pipe again and charged at Lois.

"Every time I turn my back, you're always around Clark! I knew you were trying to steal him from me!" Chloe screeched, but Lois stepped in and grabbed Chloe by the arm. Chloe swung the pipe anyway, and the two of them crashed into a pile of cleaning rags.

"I'm getting kind of tired of being attacked from behind," Harry muttered, rubbing his head. "Seriously, am I a magnet for the criminally insane?"

Chloe screeched, and Lois tried to wrestle the pipe away. Harry watched for a second, then stepped in. He grabbed Chloe around the waist with one arm and put her in a chokehold with the other. He squeezed as lightly as possible while still cutting off her oxygen. She thrashed around for a few seconds before going limp. Harry scooped her up before she could fall. Lois rushed over to check on her.

"Is she okay?" Lois asked, making sure she wasn't permanently injured.

"Yeah, she'll be fine. I'm not sure how long she'll be out, so we need to hurry," Harry told her. Lois nodded.

"Hopefully, Clark will keep Mandy occupied so we can …"

"Guys!" Clark suddenly shouted as he entered the boiler room. Lois huffed, and the annoyance in her eyes was clear.

"Good work on keeping her busy, Smallville," Lois said with her hands on her hips.

"Mandy found her empty bag and flipped out," Clark told them. "What happened to Chloe?" he asked, seeing her unconscious in Harry's arms. Lois explained while Harry handed Chloe off to Clark.

"We need to get to the chemistry classroom to try to make this antidote," Lois told them. Clark nodded and carried Chloe out of the boiler room and up the stairs.

As they raced down the empty hallway, they heard voices growing louder. The football jocks were searching every room, and they were getting closer. They turned the corner, and a group of jocks blocked the way. There were three of them, each holding a baseball bat. They looked quite menacing, and their eyes were crazed with the same weird intensity as Chloe's had been. They looked at the folder in Lois's hand.

"Hand it over," the biggest one said. "Or we'll break your legs."

Harry stepped forward. "Trust me … You don't want to do this."

The jock sneered. "Yeah? Who's gonna stop us, you?"

Harry smiled and cracked his knuckles. "Exactly."

The three charged at once. Harry ducked the first bat, let the second guy swing wide, and then drove his fist into the leader's gut. The man doubled over, and Harry slammed his knee into the guy's nose, sending him sprawling. The next jock swung the bat, but Harry caught it in one hand, twisted, and used the momentum to fling the guy into the wall. The last jock hesitated, looking at his fallen friends, then lunged.

Harry sidestepped and kicked the man's legs out from under him. The jock landed hard, and Harry pressed a knee to his chest.

"Stay down," Harry said as the guy violently thrashed. Harry rolled his eyes and smacked the guy on the side of the head, knocking him out cold.

Lois and Clark watched, wide-eyed. "Dang, Harry! I didn't know you had moves like that," Lois said, clearly impressed.

"I'm not just a gorgeous face with a killer body, you know," Harry teased with a smirk.

"I know. You also have a big mouth and a caveman brain," Lois teased back. Harry poked her in the ribs, and she squealed and smacked his hand away. He smiled at Lois, who smiled back, cocking her hip to the side. "We make a good team," she said.

Harry smiled. "You weren't so bad yourself."

Lois waggled her eyebrows. "Still, maybe next time don't get knocked out by a hundred-pound cheerleader."

He chuckled before Clark cut in. "Guys … The antidote," he reminded them.

"Oh, yeah. Good thinking, Smallville," Lois said, opening the door to the chemistry lab. "You coming, Harry?" she asked.

"I'll drag these guys into an empty classroom, then we can give them the antidote when it's ready," he told them. Clark nodded and carried Chloe into the lab.

Once they closed the door behind them, Harry looked down at the mess of bodies and sighed. "I could be at home right now in bed with a very sexy Lana Lang. Instead, I'm dragging around these meatheads who won't even have the decency to say thank you when this is all over."

He dragged the football players into the room across the hall and used his magic to seal the lock. They wouldn't be getting out until Harry was good and ready. He joined Lois and Clark, who were already preparing to brew the antidote. He'd let Clark deal with Mandy, though he wasn't sure what the police could do about her.

Halfway through the process, Chloe's eyes fluttered open. Harry sat down next to her, and when she saw him, she smiled happily. "Hey, Harry! What happened to me?" she asked, but then saw Clark. Her eyes immediately went glassy, and she sighed in pure bliss. "Clark," she said in a breathy voice. When she saw Lois, her eyes narrowed. "What's she doing here?"

All three of them rolled their eyes, and Harry stayed with Chloe until they were finished. After successfully giving Chloe the antidote, Harry gave it to the three meatheads and sent them on their way.

"Thanks for the help, Harry," Clark said as they bottled up the antidote. "I'll make sure everyone who's affected gets some."

Harry nodded. "Good. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

After some quick goodbyes, Harry found an empty classroom and apparated home. He was more than ready for a nice, relaxing night.

Chapter 11

Harry hit the Smallville market just after dark, feeling a little ridiculous that this was now his routine. Of all the heroic things he'd done, pushing a wonky shopping cart through a small town grocery store ranked pretty low on his list of daring exploits. Lana was three steps ahead of him, already plucking produce from the bins. It was good that she knew what she was doing, because Harry had no idea about the differences between good veggies and bad. She wore a faded hoodie and jeans, and the barest trace of makeup. Her straight, black hair was tied up in a messy bun. She was talking to herself, muttering about how the strawberries looked terrible, and tossing a sad-looking box of them back onto the pile.

Harry hung back, watching her. If he were being honest, he was quite enjoying himself. There was something charming about Lana doing household things, like getting mad at overripe bananas or telling him how much she disliked a certain yogurt brand. She had a little frown line between her eyebrows that appeared when she was trying to choose between nearly identical cartons of milk.

"Is this what your life was like before I crash-landed in it?" Harry asked as he caught up to her. He reached past her for a can of ravioli after spotting a 10% off sticker on the shelf.

She rolled her eyes. "No, my life was way more glamorous. Sometimes I'd treat myself and eat my instant ramen by candlelight." She smirked. "You've really raised the bar around here, Harry."

He placed the can in the cart. "I'm glad to see you're recognizing my positive influence."

Lana made a show of choosing between two fancy wedges of cheese. "You do have a certain … effect on people," she said, stealing a glance at him.

Harry shot her a lopsided grin. "That almost sounds like a compliment."

"It is," she said, smiling prettily as she put a wedge into the cart.

He bumped her with his hip, making the cart swerve into her path. She squeaked, then whacked him with a bundle of celery, which promptly broke apart. A few of the stalks tumbled to the ground. Lana looked at him and huffed with her hands on her sexy hips. "Look what you've done!" she declared. Harry tossed her a boyish smile, and Lana couldn't help but smile back. She then flicked him in the forehead and said, "Will you please pick that up before we get into trouble?" Harry chuckled, scooped up the wayward stalks, and put them in the cart.

They meandered through the store, bantering about every little thing. Harry took every opportunity to poke fun at American food culture. "You people really do love your peanut butter, don't you?"

Lana countered with jabs at his Englishness. "Are all of you allergic to spices, or is it just you?" It was easy and felt normal with her. Harry truly felt lucky to have somehow stumbled upon such a wonderful person.

As they reached the freezer aisle, Harry's phone rang. He checked the caller ID. The number was local, but he didn't recognize it. He answered anyway. "Hello?"

"Harry Potter?" the voice on the other end asked.

"Speaking."

"This is Gwen at Smallville Properties. I just wanted to let you know that the sale went through. The keys will be ready for pickup tomorrow morning." Harry blinked. He hadn't expected it to happen so fast.

"That's wonderful news. Thanks," he said, glancing at Lana, who was examining a bag of frozen peas like the store might be trying to scam her on the price.

"No problem. Congratulations on the house."

He hung up and pocketed the phone. For a second, he considered not saying anything tonight. Then he saw the way Lana's face softened when she looked at him, and he knew he couldn't keep it to himself.

"Hey," he said, nudging her with his elbow. "Remember how I put in a bid on your old house?"

She nodded, her smile fading a little. "Yeah. What about it?"

"It's mine now," he said, trying not to sound too pleased with himself. "I just got the call. I can pick up the keys tomorrow."

Lana didn't say anything for a moment. She just stared at him, the corners of her mouth twitching. Harry watched her process it, and her eyes dropped to the floor before darting back up to meet his.

"That's … wow," she said. Her voice was flat and kind of sad.

Harry searched her face. She really did look sad. Lana wasn't very good at hiding her emotions. "Are you okay?"

She gave him a tight smile. "Yeah. I mean … That's great. I'm happy for you." He waited. Lana was a terrible liar.

She bit her lip. "It's just … I didn't think you'd actually move out this soon. I mean … you just started staying with me."

Harry smiled at her. "I'm not going anywhere until you're good and ready. Besides, the house still needs work done."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She tossed the bag of peas back into the freezer and shoved her hands into her hoodie pockets. "You're really leaving, then?" she asked quietly.

He stepped closer. The freezer air made goosebumps rise on her neck. "I'll be, what, ten minutes down the road? You can come over any time you want."

Lana nodded, but her eyes looked shiny. "Lana," he said, his voice suddenly serious. "You know I'm not leaving you behind. I'll be with you any time you want or need me."

She shrugged with tense shoulders. "I'm being stupid," she said. "Sorry."

He reached for her hand and tugged it out of her pocket. "You're not stupid," he said. "You're my best friend."

She smiled and blushed a little. "I had better be."

Harry pulled her in for a hug, right there in the middle of the freezer aisle. She was cold, but Harry made her feel warm. She closed her eyes, pressed her cheek against his chest, and wrapped her arms around his waist. She slowly breathed in his scent, and it slowed her hammering heartbeat.

He rested his chin on the top of her head. "If you want …" he said, "... you could always move in with me."

She froze, and Harry smiled. "The house is huge, and you can have your old room back."

She leaned back and looked up at him. "You want me to live with you?"

He nodded. "Only if you promise not to cover the house in girly stickers again."

Lana smacked his shoulder, but she was laughing now, the tension gone. "I can't believe you want to live together. I mean … we kind of already are, but ..."

"Is that a yes?"

She pretended to think about it. "If I say yes, can I paint my room a different color?"

"Absolutely."

"Do I have to do your smelly laundry?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Not unless I have to do yours."

She smiled prettily at him, her beautiful hazel eyes shining. "Then yeah. I'll move in."

She felt the relief settle into her bones. Harry gave her another squeeze, then let her go. She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve, then smacked him in the gut with the back of her hand for making her worry.

"You're buying me dinner tonight, since you're such a hotshot homeowner now," she said, her old spark back.

"Deal. Dollar menu, here we come," Harry said. He went into the freezer, grabbed two bags of frozen peas and carrots, and tossed them in the cart.

They finished their shopping and took the long way home, laughing about how they'd decorate the farmhouse. Lana wanted to paint her room purple. Harry said he'd turn the barn into his workshop. When they got back to the apartment, Lana put the groceries away while Harry sprawled on the couch, watching her and thinking about the way her eyes had sparkled in the freezer aisle. It only took her a few minutes before she happily bounced over to him.

"Come on!" she chirped, grabbing his wrist and tugging him to get off the couch. "You're taking me out to eat, remember?" she reminded him. Harry groaned and stood up. She hugged his arm and marched him out to her waiting car.

The Last Guardian

Harry showed up at the real estate office a minute after opening. It was very early in the morning, and he wasn't even fully awake yet. Lana was waiting for him in the car. The secretary was about a hundred years old, had a phone wedged between her shoulder and cheek, and looked like she was already ready to go home.

"I'm Harry Potter. I'm here to pick up the keys for the house," Harry said, showing her his ID.

She finished her call and dug around in a drawer until she found an envelope. "Sign here," she said, sliding a bundle of paperwork toward him.

Harry signed his name on each line, not bothering to read the fine print. The woman looked at his signature, looked at his face, and then handed over the manila envelope with a muttered, "Congratulations." The poor woman looked as tired as he felt. Harry stepped away and dug through the envelope. It was filled with papers, and when he turned it upside down, a set of keys slid out into his palm.

The keys rattled in his hand, and he stood there for a second, expecting someone to pop out and tell him that there had been a mistake. Instead, the secretary picked up the phone again and dialed a number. Seeing that there was nothing left to do, Harry left.

The Last Guardian

After school, Lana found him waiting by the flagpole. She wore tight jeans and a faded blue sweater. She looked as lovely as always. "Are you ready?" she asked.

Harry smiled and nodded. "Let's go see what we're dealing with," he told her. She smiled and bounced in place, then grabbed his sleeve and pulled him toward her car.

"You're driving," she said, tossing him the keys.

He looked at the car, then at her. "I thought you said my driving scared you enough to take ten years off your life?"

She snorted. "It does, but I want to get started on my take-home math test. So, for the love of god, please keep it under ninety this time."

He shrugged and got in. He started the engine, and Lana fiddled with the radio, finding a station that suited her tastes. She then turned the volume down until it was just background noise. Lana pulled out her test and began working. Harry drove with one hand on the wheel, the other drumming on the center console. Harry didn't bother talking. He let Lana do her work in peace.

The sky was clear and blue, and a massive flock of birds flew overhead as they drove down the two-lane road. When they turned down the gravel lane that led to the house, Lana looked up from her test. She stared out the window as the house got bigger and bigger.

Harry parked in front, killed the engine, and looked at her. "Are you ready to go in?"

She nodded and started putting her stuff away. He got out, walked around, and opened her door like a gentleman. He then bowed with a flourish of his hand.

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth curled up. "You're so weird," she chuckled, but took his hand as she climbed out.

They stood on the porch for a minute. The paint was peeling, and the swing hung at an odd angle. Harry used the key, but the door didn't open. He jiggled it, twisted the knob, and finally shoulder-checked it open. "I guess it needs to be oiled," Lana stated as she followed him in.

Inside, the house smelled like stale air. The floor creaked under their feet, and sunlight filtered in through the dirty windows, lighting up the swirling dust motes.

"Home sweet home," Harry said, voice echoing in the emptiness.

Lana wandered ahead of him, trailing her hand along the dusty banister. She peeked into the living room, which was bare except for an old rug and a single, mismatched curtain.

"We used to have a big ugly couch in here," she said, her voice soft. "I think my aunt bought it at a garage sale for ten bucks. It smelled like mothballs."

Harry smiled teasingly. "Shall I conjure one up for you? Only the finest estate-sale crap for milady."

She smiled and poked him in the ribs, then moved to the kitchen. The linoleum was curling up at the edges, and there were three different kinds of wallpaper fighting for dominance.

"Oh god," Lana said. "I forgot how ugly it was in here."

Harry flicked his finger, and the entire kitchen glowed green. The wallpaper and linoleum vanished, leaving bare walls and concrete floors. New, sparkling white tile appeared on the floor, and the ancient-looking refrigerator disappeared from sight.

Lana gawked at him. "Show-off."

Harry chuckled. "You can decide what color you want the walls and tiles. I can easily change them," he told her.

They moved upstairs, and the stairs creaked so loudly that Lana flinched every time she put her weight down. She was afraid she might fall straight through.

"Can you fix the stairs?" she asked. "I don't want to have a nervous breakdown every time I go up and down the stairs."

Harry pointed at them, and a wave of green light rolled up the steps. The wood gleamed, the stain lightened, and the creaks went silent. Lana took a tentative step and smiled. "You're amazing."

Harry huffed on his fingernails and buffed them on his shirt. "What can I say?" he smugly stated.

She led him to the master bedroom. The door squealed loudly when she opened it. The room was a big square with windows on two walls and a closet with a door that hung crookedly. Lana poked her head into the closet. "I used to hide in here when I was mad at my aunt, but she always found me." She ducked inside, then stepped out, cutely wrinkling her nose. "It smells like old socks."

Harry eyed the closet, and a pulse of magic swept out. The door straightened, the wood polished itself, and the air cleared. "There," he said. "It's fit for all your hiding needs."

She crossed her arms and looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "Don't get cocky."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Hey, I'm just that good."

She rolled her eyes but didn't deny it. They checked out the guest room. It was smaller and sadder, with yellowing wallpaper and a single bare lightbulb. The floor sagged in the middle. "Can you make it less … slumpy?" Lana asked.

Harry snapped his fingers. The floor leveled out, and the lightbulb transformed into a modern-style ceiling fixture. The wallpaper shed itself, revealing clean, white walls. "Nice," Lana said. "You should go into home improvement."

They walked into the room at the end of the hall. It had been Lana's when she was still living there. The walls were painted a yellowish eggshell color. Lana stared at the room for a moment. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do with the room just yet.

The hallway ended at the upstairs bathroom. Lana opened the door and shook her head. "Wow," she said, "It's gone downhill since I was last here." The tub was stained, several tiles were chipped, and the sink was caked with crud.

Harry flicked his wrist. The faucets sparkled like new, and the crud disappeared from the sink. The tiles reset themselves, the cracks vanishing and the grout turning bright white. The tub shone like new, with gleaming chrome handles. All the hard-water stains disappeared. Lana reached in and turned the hot tap. Crystal clear water gushed out. "That's actually impressive," she said, running her hand under the water.

"I live to please," Harry chuckled.

They finished the tour in the downstairs bathroom, which was somehow even worse. There was a dead bug in the corner, and the toilet looked like it had seen better days. Harry didn't bother with subtlety. He swept his hand in a wide arc, and the room shimmered. The tiles and porcelain transformed all at once, and the bug vanished. Lana stepped inside and looked around. "That's so much better," she said with a pleased smile.

"Yeah, not bad," Harry agreed as he looked around for anything else that needed fixing.

They stood in the hallway for a second, not sure where to go next. Lana stepped up to him and slowly slipped her arms around his waist. "Thanks for fixing up the place," she said quietly as she squeezed him. "It means a lot."

He looked at her. "You mean more," he teased with a handsome smile. She blushed and turned away.

They walked back to her old room. She stood in the center, looking around. "It's weird," she said. "I thought coming back here would be strange, but it actually feels … good."

He nodded. "I can repaint it for you … any color you want."

She thought about it. "Purple, but not too dark."

Harry pointed at the wall, and a green flash later, the room turned deep, regal purple.

She tilted her head. "Maybe a little lighter?"

He tried again, and the walls softened into a lighter purple. She examined it for a second, then frowned. "Less blue, more … lavender?"

He zapped it one last time, and the room glowed with a soft, floral shade that made the white trim pop. She spun in a slow circle, then clapped her hands excitedly. "That's perfect," she said with a pretty smile.

Harry chuckled and rubbed her back. "If you get tired of the color or change your mind, I can always change it again," he reminded her.

She hugged him tightly, and her face pressed into his shirt. "Thank you," she sincerely told him. Lana was amazed at how kind and generous he was toward her. She caught herself breathing deeply and taking in his scent. Realizing what she was doing, her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but it was too good to stop.

He squeezed her back, feeling the slow, steady beat of her heart against his ribs. She pulled back, gifted him a dazzling smile, and asked, "Do you want to get pizza tonight?" He chuckled and nodded, and Lana squeezed him one last time before letting him go.

They headed downstairs, and Lana was already talking about how she was going to decorate the kitchen and living room. Harry listened, not bothering to interject.

The Last Guardian

The Talon was dark, cold, and quiet below, but upstairs, the apartment was warm and full of soft light. Harry lounged in the bed as the TV played quietly in the background. The comforter was pulled up to his hips, and he wore nothing but a pair of gray boxer briefs. His hair was a mess from his shower earlier … not that it was much better during the daylight hours. He looked relaxed, if not for the slight crease between his eyebrows as he watched some cheesy murder mystery on the television.

He heard Lana turn off the shower and step out. The bathroom fan hummed for a while, then cut off. There was a thump, then a tangle of footsteps. She was cursing under her breath, which made him quietly chuckle. A moment later, she appeared in the doorway, rubbing at her damp hair with a fluffy white towel.

Lana wore a faded blue t-shirt that barely reached her upper thighs. Her bare legs gleamed with water, and she was still pink from the shower's scorching water. Her long, dark hair clung to her neck in wet ropes. She stopped in the doorway, blinking at the light.

Harry smiled at her. "You took a long time. I thought you might have drowned in there."

She stuck out her tongue and came into the room. "I have a lot of hair, in case you haven't noticed," she said, rubbing her scalp with the towel. She padded over to her side of the bed and sat down, legs crossed under her. She kept drying her hair, tipping her head back with every pass.

The movement tugged her shirt up, exposing the crotch of her pale green panties. Harry noticed, as he always did. She noticed him looking, then glanced down and realized that half her hip was on display. Lana blushed hard and yanked the shirt lower. The tips of her ears went pink. She kept her eyes glued to her towel, too embarrassed to look over at him.

Harry smiled and made a show of stretching his arms behind his head. "Don't let me stop you," he said. "You're putting on one hell of a show."

She huffed and threw the towel at him. It landed with a wet splat on his handsome face. "Pervert," she said, but her words didn't have any kind of bite.

He laughed. "I'm just appreciating the view."

She rolled her eyes, but her lips stretched into a small smile. She reached for her hairbrush, but her fingers were still wet, and it slipped from her hand. The brush tumbled under the bed. "Dang it!" Lana groaned and dropped to her hands and knees, hunting for it.

Harry was tempted to snap his fingers and magically retrieve the brush, but he was having too much fun watching her crawl around. "Do you need a hand?" he asked, his voice full of amusement.

She shot him a look from under her wet hair. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I'll neither confirm nor deny it," Harry said with a cheeky smile.

Lana crawled back up, brush in hand, then flopped onto the bed with a dramatic groan. She worked the brush through her hair, hissing whenever she hit a tangle. She caught Harry looking again. "What?"

"If you want to get dry faster, I could … you know." He made a vague gesture, wiggling his fingers in the air.

She paused and pulled the brush from her hair. "Oh, right. Mr. Magic Pants." She set the brush down and twisted to face him. "Do you promise not to make my shirt fly up this time?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He raised three fingers. "Scout's honor."

She squinted at him, then said, "Go ahead then."

Harry reached over with one hand, snapped his fingers, and a burst of green light shimmered over her body. Her shirt billowed, but stayed down, and her hair flew upward as if she'd been hit with a gust of wind. It lasted less than a second. When it was over, every drop of moisture had vanished. Her hair was dry, smooth, and gleaming, and her shirt and skin were warm and toasty.

She twisted a strand of hair in her fingers. "It always feels good when you do that. Thank you."

He gave her a little salute. "You're welcome."

Lana crawled under the comforter, scooching all the way over until she was pressed against his side. She tucked her legs under his and pressed her icy cold feet against his hot skin. She sighed and dropped her head onto his shoulder. Her hand slid over onto his muscled stomach, and Lana gently caressed his skin.

Harry looked down at her. "So, is this an invitation for naughty fun time, or do I need to make a reservation?"

She smacked him in the stomach, but didn't pull away. "You're not as funny as you think you are," she said. Her voice was drowsy, but he could see her smiling.

"I beg to differ," he replied.

She hummed in contentment and closed her eyes. He wrapped his arm around her, careful not to jostle her too much. He played with a strand of her hair, spinning it between his fingers. Harry completely forgot about the boring TV show. The only light came from the TV and the bedside lamp. Lana yawned. "Don't you ever get tired?" she asked, mumbling through her words. Lana always fell asleep well before Harry did.

He considered it. "I do after I use my powers a lot. Usually, I have to force myself to go to sleep."

"Mmhmm," she hummed and scooted even closer, nestling deeper under his arm. Her hand drifted up and settled on his chest, right over his heart. She spread her fingers, feeling the steady beat.

He looked down at her. Her lashes were impossibly long and thick, and her mouth was slightly parted. She looked content and peaceful. He watched the rise and fall of her shoulder with every breath.

She peeked up at him. "Hey, Harry?" she asked in a soft voice.

"Yeah?"

She seemed to think about her words. "Thanks for being here and for asking me to live with you."

He squeezed her gently. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

She smiled, closed her eyes, and let herself relax. Harry reached over with his free hand, turned off the TV with the remote, and then the lamp. The room was instantly black. He could see her perfectly, even in the dark, but he kept his eyes closed and listened to her breathing as she drifted off.

The Last Guardian

Across the street, hidden in an alley, Jason Teague watched the window. He stood in the shadows with his hood pulled up. He'd been there for an hour, his eyes fixed on the faint square of light that belonged to Lana's bedroom. He saw her silhouette pass behind the curtain. He then saw the light go out, plunging the room into darkness.

He let out a long breath, fogging the air in front of his face. He punched the side of his fist against the brick wall, hard enough to split the skin over his knuckle. He didn't feel it. His hands were numb from the cold and adrenaline. He stood there for a minute, his jaw clenched, while blood dripped onto the frozen concrete. He turned, limped his way down the alley, and vanished into the night.