July 22, scratch that, 23: Introductions and Hesitations
Cold and dreary was the night; every night in this town. The days were hotter than match heads, but the nights were like death on holiday in the arctic. Shivering, I pulled my coat tighter around me and surveyed the landscape from the shadows of the dank, trash-riddled alleyway, silently cursing myself for not choosing the tropical alleyway behind the Forge. It was still cold there, but the freezing, bikini-clad occupants were nicer.
Steam rose from the gutters as a light rain fell to the cobblestone roadway upon which a single person had not set foot in the last hour. I started to contemplate why I was even there in the first place. Did I really expect to see something? Of course, I didn't. Then why was I standing in a cold alley waiting for something I didn't expect to see?
Sighing, I took a cigarette from the brass holder I carried in my coat pocket and pressed it between my lips. Once lit, I took a long drag and held the cigarette between my thumb and forefinger, studying it as I exhaled. Remembering.
The morning hadn't gone at all like any other July 22 I could remember. I woke up late, cut myself shaving and found one of my wingtips hanging on the desk lamp. Spying the empty bottle of firewhiskey on the filing cabinet, I decided I didn't want to recall the night before and took the shoe without any questions. The phone rang as I was fumbling with the knot in the shoelace.
"What?" I answered, shouldering the receiver and going back to the knot.
"Where are you?" Ron hissed on the other end.
"You tell me. You called," I grumbled.
"Hermione's going bust a nut if you don't show up soon."
I snorted at my partner.
"She may wear the pants at your house, pal, but she ain't got nothing on m…"
"Harry, if you're not here in ten minutes, I'm going to hex you into femininity!" my secretary wailed in the background.
"I'm on my way," I said, hanging up and forcing the shoe on my foot, the knot only made worse by my fumbling. Grabbing my hat and jacket and making sure my wand was in my pocket I started for the door of my apartment. I contemplated taking my trench coat in the event that it was going to be another late night, but left it, hoping that if that were the case, I'd be too drunk to care.
Eight minutes later, I bolted through the door to the office I shared with Ron, huffing and puffing, and found Hermione tapping her wand on her desk, watching the clock on the wall.
"You're a lucky man, Harry Potter," she told me, placing her wand back inside her handbag and standing. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Eight and a half minutes since you called?"
"Wrong. The correct answer would be 'one hour and eight and a half minutes later than you should have been."
"I slept in," I shrugged, looking to hang my jacket on the peg by the door but seeing my trench coat already occupying the hook I normally used. I wondered briefly at this, sure that I hadn't brought it with me, but decided not to think about it and hung my jacket on the next peg. Ron was silhouetted in the sunlight filtering through the blinds, slouching on his desk, hat on and cigarette dangling from his mouth. Upon closer inspection, I found that he was impeccably well kempt, his suspenders spaced perfectly on his shoulders and chest.
"I see she not only wears the pants, but she puts you in yours as well," I muttered as I passed him on the way to my own desk which faced his. My partner growled and moved to sit in his chair.
"Why was I supposed to be here an hour and, what is it? Nine minutes ago, now?" I asked, leaning back in my chair and placing my feet on the desk.
"What did you do to your shoe?" Hermione asked disdainfully, frowning at the poorly shoelace. Without waiting for an answer, she pulled a loose string and the knot came undone. "Tie your shoe, Potter," she told me. I looked at her incredulously as she walked to her husband's side, hesitating before tying the lace.
Pushing up my glasses, I looked to Ron for an answer to my question.
"We had an appointment with Dumbledore at eight-thirty," Ron told me, leaning forward a little bit.
I made a face at him.
"That's not until tomorrow. I distinctly remember him scheduling for the 23rd," I argued.
"It is the 23rd, you ninny," Hermione reprimanded, rolling her eyes. I glanced at the calendar on my desk and threw my head back with a groan.
"No wonder this day is going so bad. I thought it was yesterday."
"What does the day have to do with anything?" my secretary wanted to know.
"What's gotten up your backside?" I inquired, growing weary of her bark.
"You'll kindly leave my posterior out of this. What does it matter if it's the 22nd or the 23rd? I thought it was the 24th that always gave you Hell."
"Aw, thanks, Hermione. Now I've got something to look forward to tomorrow."
Sighing, I took my feet off the desk and replaced them with my elbows as I rubbed my eyes.
"What did the old codger have to say?"
"You owe your life to that 'old codger'. I'd show him a little more respect if I were you."
I waved her off boredly and she wandered back to her desk. Ron tipped his hat back a little and took a last drag off his cigarette before putting it out.
"Says Seamus is getting restless," he breathed, through a puff of smoke. "He's been getting strange phone calls late at night threatening him with a flobberworm beating. Dumbledore wanted to know if we'd heard anything."
I furrowed my brow
"What did you tell him?"
"That we hadn't; that Seamus was always a bit paranoid and that it was nothing to worry about. Unless you know something I don't."
"A fidgety Finnegan fearing flogging by flobberworms? No, haven't heard a thing."
Ron nodded and leaned back in his chair, elbows resting on the arm rests, fingers laced over his tie.
"Are there any other appointments I'm forgetting?" I asked, looking at Hermione.
"Not yet, boss," she replied, though I caught her sarcastic tone.
"What did I do?" I mouthed at Ron who shrugged in reply.
"She'll get over it," he mouthed back, beginning to twiddle his thumbs. Hermione immediately cast him a reproachful look and he wheeled his chair to her side. I rolled my eyes, aware of the impending rush of sweet nothings that was about to spew forth from Ron's gullet.
A knock at the door distracted me and I looked up to see the hazy shape of a woman through the frosted glass. I straightened my tie before opening the door. Maybe my day was going to get better.
No luck.
"Hiya, Harry!" a familiar voice squealed, throwing her arms around my neck and kicking up a heel behind her.
"Hey, Luna," I greeted, prying myself out of her grip. I beckoned her into the office and shut the door behind her. She flashed an all-knowing smile that reminded me that she didn't know so much, and I offered her a chair.
"Naw, Harry, I'm good standing," she stated and paused, hands on her hips, one foot slightly askew and knee bent. It took me a minute to realize she was posing and awaiting a compliment.
Looking over his shoulder, Ron made a face that crossed between disgust and confusion before turning back to his wife and whispering in her ear. Whatever flapdoodle he was gushing at her seemed to have calmed her down, at least. Choosing to ignore them, I looked back to the woman before me, but hesitated before speaking.
"So what brings you in today, Luna?"
Though, I really wasn't interested.
"Just seeing how you are, Harry, you know. Out and about. I tried catching you this morning as you ran past my door, but you sure were in a hurry," she responded, snapping her gum and flashing an 'I'm-too-cute-for-my-knickers-don't-you-think' smile. The door opened again, this time without a knock.
"Heya, Harry," Neville saluted, touching the bill on his hat with a smile as he approached the desk. His newsboys cap was awry and some of his brown hair fell onto his forehead, a quill tucked behind his ear. The short, wide tie he was wearing, one of many he rotated through the week, was twisted and flipped backwards, as it often was. "Oh, hey there, Luna." The young man's cheeks turned a little pink when he saw the woman standing near him.
"Hiya, Nevy," Luna cooed, fixing his tie and kissing his cheek, only causing him to blush more. Shaking my head, I got up and pulled up the blinds and peered down at the street three floors below.
That's when I saw her coming up the sidewalk.
It was hard to see her face clearly because of the wide brimmed hat and the sunglasses she was sporting, but I wasn't bothered. If the face behind those glasses was half as beautiful as the rest of her, I'd be fine.
She walked into the building.
I moved passed Neville and Luna and flung the door open, standing on my tiptoes in the doorway to see if she was coming up to our floor.
"What are you doing, Harry?" Ron asked, rolling away from Hermione a little and craning his neck to see what I was looking for.
I started to answer, but then I heard her footsteps on the stairs.
"Harry?"
They didn't stop at the first floor.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked.
"Shush, Mione," I muttered, batting at hand at her.
They didn't seem to be stopping at the second floor either, though they hesitated.
"Is someone coming?" Ron asked.
"Shutup, Ron," I mumbled, not turning away but biting my lip in anticipation of seeing her shadow in the stairwell.
"I do hope it's my hairdresser," Luna put in, touching her hair lightly. I turned to her and the four of us threw her a collective frown and she said, "I have a loose curl."
"Your hair looks great to these eyes, baby," Neville told her and she slapped him playfully on the chest.
"You're so silly, Nevy," she giggled, popping her gum.
Grumbling, I turned back to the corridor, only to see her hat appearing on the stairs. I shut the door and leaned against it for a moment before running to my chair. I tried tilting my hat back a little, letting some of my black hair fall into my eyes, and putting my feet up on the desk, arms hanging limply over the sides of my chair. Hearing approaching footsteps, I put my feet back on the ground and pulled a cigarette out of my shirt pocket and tossed it into my mouth, patting my pockets and rifling through desk drawers for a light.
Neville lit a match and cupped it in his hands, holding it out to me. I started to lean forward when I heard Hermione ask, "When's Ginny coming, Ron?"
"Sometime this morning," he answered.
"Ginny's coming?" I asked, forgetting the light and the cigarette as it fell to the floor.
A light knock sounded on the door and Neville jerked his hand back, dropping the match and stomping on it, cursing under his breath.
Ron started for the door and I snatched up my cigarette and put it in the corner of my lips, catching him just as he reached for the doorknob.
"I got this one, Ron," I said out of the side of my mouth, taking hold of the doorknob before he could.
"What's the big deal, Harry?" Ron asked, giving me a confused look and beginning to fight me for the door handle.
"I got this one, Ron," I repeated through clenched teeth, pushing him away with my shoulder. He stumbled a little and I stood triumphantly.
"Harry, it's just …"
I flung the door open and my jaw dropped when I saw the woman on the other side as she took off her horn-rimmed sunglasses.
"Ginny!" Ron exclaimed, pushing me aside and embracing his sister, carrying her into the office. I pushed the door shut and braced myself against it with my palm, still in shock.
"Hello, Virginia," I managed.
The younger girl hesitated before she turned and looked me over briefly.
"Harry," she said flatly, boredom in her features, turning back to her brother and sister-in-law. I lumbered back to my desk, noting to myself that July 23rd was quickly becoming my worst day of the year.
"It looks like you guys are pretty busy," Luna sighed, looking around the office. Pulling my wand from my pocket and tapping it on my desk lackadaisically, I nodded my consent. "I'll see you around, Harry. Ron. The usual time, Nevy?"
"You bet," the enamoured man told her as she trailed a hand across his chest, sauntering to the door. With one more glance at me, she winked and cracked her gum before exiting.
Neville seemed to be regaining his composure and I called to him.
"Whaddaya got for me, Neville?"
"Oh, right. Harry." The man moved and rested on the edge of my desk, pulling a small notebook out of his shirt pocket and flipping it open, retrieving the quill from behind his ear. He tapped the point on the paper and opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to be at a loss for words.
I glanced at Ginny's back and wished Neville would tell me something urgent so I could leave and have a better reason than an unquenchable thirst for firewhiskey.
"You haven't put me on a job in weeks," he declared, looking at me oddly. This was true. I hadn't had a job in weeks. What was that? The firewhiskey had begun to call to me.
"Then why are you here?" I asked, glancing again at the ginger-haired girl that was avoiding my eyes.
Neville chose his words very carefully, flipping the notebook closed and pocketing it. He twirled the quill in his fingertips.
"I have a … tip, let's say, from … an anonymous … source."
My eyes shifted back to him and I knew who his 'source' was.
"What does she want now and why didn't she just ask me herself?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.
"Whatever. What is this … 'tip' you've got?"
It was Neville's turn to hesitate.
"There's some questionable business going on in the black market."
"It's the black market, Neville. By definition, it's questionable," I informed him.
"Well, sure, but doubly so this time."
"How is that possible?" I had to ask, choosing to ignore the fact that Ginny had bent to pick up something that had slipped off Hermione's desk and staring at Neville intently, though the view wasn't nearly as attractive.
"Word on the street is that there's gonna be an illegal shipment of …"
"Shipment of what?" I asked, looking at him expectantly.
Neville's reply was muffled by his not opening his mouth hardly at all and the quietness of his voice.
"Excuse me?"
"Rummleorredoracks."
I raised my eyebrows and shook my head.
"Crumpled-Horned Snorkacks," he said quickly, glancing sheepishly over his shoulder, making sure no one else heard.
"Damn it, Neville," I cringed, letting my wand fall to the desk and feeling the call of the firewhiskey very similar to the navel-tugging of a portkey, differing only in that the summons of the beloved drink did not, unfortunately, possess transporting powers over long distances.
"Just consider yourself tipped off," the man said, standing and holding up his hands, palms outward.
"Thanks, I'll remember that."
"You know how to get me if you need me," Neville said, tapping the bill of his hat in my direction and again at Ron. He took it off and bowed at the ladies who waved. He replaced his cap and left.
Again, I found myself being ignored by everyone in the room. Wasn't this my office? I spun to look out the window and decided to smoke the cigarette still hanging from my mouth, but, upon finding my lack of lighting utensil, I put it back in my shirt pocket.
"You should tell him yourself," I heard Ron say and felt eyes on me, but I refused to turn around and spied an airplane in the clouds.
"Right now?" Ginny asked quietly.
"Whaddaya know?" Ron exclaimed, "Now would be perfect, seeing as Hermione and I were just stepping out for lunch."
"We are?" Hermione asked and there was movement behind me as if Ron had pulled his wife to her feet.
"It's only ten, Ron," Ginny put in.
"Perfect hour for coffee."
"I thought it was lunch?" Hermione asked.
"It's only ten, Mione. I can take you for breakfast if you're hungry."
I bit back laughter and noticed a fly buzzing around the room.
"Hey, Harry, we'll be back after awhile. Going to get some breakfast for Hermione, she's hungry," Ron called.
"Am not," my secretary interjected heatedly.
Ron ignored her, "Do you want anything?"
I spun lazily to face the three Weasleys.
"No thanks."
"We'll be back," and with that, Ron rolled his chair back to his desk, slung his jacket over his forearm and pushed his wife into the corridor. He shut the door loudly behind him and I was left trying not to look at the younger Weasley yet again.
"Would you like to sit?" I asked, motioning to the chair behind Ron's desk.
"Why not?" she replied, strolling to the chair and sitting down. I clenched my jaw and leaned forward on my desk, unwilling to let myself remember the way she moved.
"Ron didn't tell me you were coming," I made an attempt at polite conversation.
"Why would he do that?" she inquired, quirking a fiery eyebrow.
She had got me there.
"We're best friends. Things come up in conversation," I covered quickly. "You just visiting family, or are you here on business?"
By business, I didn't mean her's, but that of her famed fiancé. I scowled inwardly at my own mention of the scum.
"Funny you mention business," she began, crossing her legs and leaning back in the chair. My gaze shifted immediately to the fly I'd seen earlier. "No one knows we're here yet besides Ron."
"Au contraire, miss. I was having a friendly chat with your soon-to-be-father-in-law and he mentioned it."
She seemed suddenly unnerved.
"Why were you talking to Lucius?"
"He's a business man, and sometimes I find myself in need of his services."
Ginny gave me a look of absolute loathing.
"The truth comes out, at last. I knew you were familiar with his … strumpets," she spat.
"I never touched his strumpets or anyone else's until you flew off to wherever it was with your new bauble," I spat back with a fluttering hand gesture, standing up.
"Oh, so it was me who sent you to the trollops, was it?"
She was standing now as well, her voice getting louder.
"And Draco is not a 'bauble'. He has very expensive tastes, actually, unlike some men I've known," she hissed coming around the desk.
"Just because I like the simpler things in life doesn't mean I'm worthless," I shouted, taking a step toward her.
"I never said you were worthless. Just cheap," she said quietly, looking up at me.
I couldn't argue this point and she knew it, so I kissed her, returning to my chair when I pulled back.
"Why in the hell did you just do that?" she asked loudly.
I couldn't answer that, so I didn't. Rather, I picked up a quill out of the ink stand and scribbled something about a shipment of Crumpled-Horned Snorkacks.
She sighed and pulled Ron's chair to my side, sitting down and spinning me to face her.
"I do have something I need to talk to you about."
I was happy we were speaking freely finally.
"Lay it on me, ba … Ginny," I corrected at the last second.
"It's about … my fiancé."
"How's the bau … How is Draco doing these days?"
"He's been acting funny lately; shady, almost."
"Draco Malfoy, shady? No," I mocked, leaning back in my chair and smirking at her.
"He's very good at what he does, Harry. As foolish as it sounds, the front is legitimate. There was a time when even you, Harry Potter, Private Investigator: Gumshoe Who Finds The Gum On The Bad Guys' Shoes, wouldn't have been able to find a drop of wrong-doing associated with D.M.'s Bubbly Pop Bottling Company."
I snorted at the slogan I used to have printed at the bottom of my business cards. I wondered if she remembered the slogan she wrote in my birthday card two years ago, as well, but shook the thought out of my head.
She was right about the bottling company. After she had left me, I sought out any possible crooked affiliation of Draco's, and as far as records were concerned, they didn't exist.
"What exactly do you think he's doing?"
"I don't know," she mumbled, standing and turning away from me.
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"I don't know."
My shoulders slumped and I frowned, contemplating why I even chose to wake up in the mornings, seeing as the only one really interested in speaking to me was an antique of a man that was the editor-in-chief at the newspaper. I moved to stand behind her.
"Then why are you here?"
She hesitated before turning and looking up at me.
"I wanted to see you again."
I liked that answer so much, I gave her another kiss.
She quirked an eyebrow at me.
"You've been drinking."
"I have not."
"Last night. Firewhiskey. I can taste it on your tongue."
I smiled a little.
"Is that a wand in your pocket, Harry, or are you just happy to see me?" she smirked.
My eyes widened a little as she turned and started for the door. I opened my mouth to tell her, that, obviously, it was my wand, but she spoke up first.
"Your wand is on your desk."
Again, the young Weasley was right, so I sat down and dropped my hat into my lap.
"I overheard Draco say something about meeting an old friend on the strip tonight," Ginny told me, looking back, her hand on the doorknob. "Thought you ought to know."
And that's how I found myself skulking in the dank alleyway, drowning in the light rain that had soaked my fedora thoroughly. I remembered her taste and smiled, feeling that old feeling in my stomach.
"It's much better if you suck on them," a voice I didn't want to hear called to me. I hadn't even seen her approaching.
"Excuse me?" I asked, squinting through the rain at Luna Lovegood standing by the streetlamp a few feet away.
"Your cigarette. You're just looking at it as it burns in vain," she clarified, snapping her gum. I quickly brought it to my lips and motioned for her to step out of the light of the streetlamp.
"What are you doing here? I thought you had a date with Neville."
I offered her a drag off the cigarette and she accepted.
"He's sleeping. I'll be back before he wakes up," she said, exhaling the smoke slowly and flicking ash to the wet sidewalk. "What are you doing here?"
"I don't know," I muttered, reclaiming the addictive distraction and puffing lightly on it.
"Want to get a drink?" she offered.
"Not with you," I replied, "You can finish that; they're going to kill me someday."
"You'll kill yourself first, falling after Ginny again," she told me, taking one last draw off the cigarette before letting it drop to the concrete and crushing it with her foot.
"Goodnight, Luna," I called over my shoulder, as I exited the alleyway.
"See ya, Harry," she said, her gum popping a final time as I walked away, heading for the Forge.
Cold and dreary was the night; every night in this town. The days were hotter than match heads, but the nights were like death on holiday in the arctic. Shivering, I pulled my coat tighter around me and surveyed the landscape from the shadows of the dank, trash-riddled alleyway, silently cursing myself for not choosing the tropical alleyway behind the Forge. It was still cold there, but the freezing, bikini-clad occupants were nicer.
Steam rose from the gutters as a light rain fell to the cobblestone roadway upon which a single person had not set foot in the last hour. I started to contemplate why I was even there in the first place. Did I really expect to see something? Of course, I didn't. Then why was I standing in a cold alley waiting for something I didn't expect to see?
Sighing, I took a cigarette from the brass holder I carried in my coat pocket and pressed it between my lips. Once lit, I took a long drag and held the cigarette between my thumb and forefinger, studying it as I exhaled. Remembering.
The morning hadn't gone at all like any other July 22 I could remember. I woke up late, cut myself shaving and found one of my wingtips hanging on the desk lamp. Spying the empty bottle of firewhiskey on the filing cabinet, I decided I didn't want to recall the night before and took the shoe without any questions. The phone rang as I was fumbling with the knot in the shoelace.
"What?" I answered, shouldering the receiver and going back to the knot.
"Where are you?" Ron hissed on the other end.
"You tell me. You called," I grumbled.
"Hermione's going bust a nut if you don't show up soon."
I snorted at my partner.
"She may wear the pants at your house, pal, but she ain't got nothing on m…"
"Harry, if you're not here in ten minutes, I'm going to hex you into femininity!" my secretary wailed in the background.
"I'm on my way," I said, hanging up and forcing the shoe on my foot, the knot only made worse by my fumbling. Grabbing my hat and jacket and making sure my wand was in my pocket I started for the door of my apartment. I contemplated taking my trench coat in the event that it was going to be another late night, but left it, hoping that if that were the case, I'd be too drunk to care.
Eight minutes later, I bolted through the door to the office I shared with Ron, huffing and puffing, and found Hermione tapping her wand on her desk, watching the clock on the wall.
"You're a lucky man, Harry Potter," she told me, placing her wand back inside her handbag and standing. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Eight and a half minutes since you called?"
"Wrong. The correct answer would be 'one hour and eight and a half minutes later than you should have been."
"I slept in," I shrugged, looking to hang my jacket on the peg by the door but seeing my trench coat already occupying the hook I normally used. I wondered briefly at this, sure that I hadn't brought it with me, but decided not to think about it and hung my jacket on the next peg. Ron was silhouetted in the sunlight filtering through the blinds, slouching on his desk, hat on and cigarette dangling from his mouth. Upon closer inspection, I found that he was impeccably well kempt, his suspenders spaced perfectly on his shoulders and chest.
"I see she not only wears the pants, but she puts you in yours as well," I muttered as I passed him on the way to my own desk which faced his. My partner growled and moved to sit in his chair.
"Why was I supposed to be here an hour and, what is it? Nine minutes ago, now?" I asked, leaning back in my chair and placing my feet on the desk.
"What did you do to your shoe?" Hermione asked disdainfully, frowning at the poorly shoelace. Without waiting for an answer, she pulled a loose string and the knot came undone. "Tie your shoe, Potter," she told me. I looked at her incredulously as she walked to her husband's side, hesitating before tying the lace.
Pushing up my glasses, I looked to Ron for an answer to my question.
"We had an appointment with Dumbledore at eight-thirty," Ron told me, leaning forward a little bit.
I made a face at him.
"That's not until tomorrow. I distinctly remember him scheduling for the 23rd," I argued.
"It is the 23rd, you ninny," Hermione reprimanded, rolling her eyes. I glanced at the calendar on my desk and threw my head back with a groan.
"No wonder this day is going so bad. I thought it was yesterday."
"What does the day have to do with anything?" my secretary wanted to know.
"What's gotten up your backside?" I inquired, growing weary of her bark.
"You'll kindly leave my posterior out of this. What does it matter if it's the 22nd or the 23rd? I thought it was the 24th that always gave you Hell."
"Aw, thanks, Hermione. Now I've got something to look forward to tomorrow."
Sighing, I took my feet off the desk and replaced them with my elbows as I rubbed my eyes.
"What did the old codger have to say?"
"You owe your life to that 'old codger'. I'd show him a little more respect if I were you."
I waved her off boredly and she wandered back to her desk. Ron tipped his hat back a little and took a last drag off his cigarette before putting it out.
"Says Seamus is getting restless," he breathed, through a puff of smoke. "He's been getting strange phone calls late at night threatening him with a flobberworm beating. Dumbledore wanted to know if we'd heard anything."
I furrowed my brow
"What did you tell him?"
"That we hadn't; that Seamus was always a bit paranoid and that it was nothing to worry about. Unless you know something I don't."
"A fidgety Finnegan fearing flogging by flobberworms? No, haven't heard a thing."
Ron nodded and leaned back in his chair, elbows resting on the arm rests, fingers laced over his tie.
"Are there any other appointments I'm forgetting?" I asked, looking at Hermione.
"Not yet, boss," she replied, though I caught her sarcastic tone.
"What did I do?" I mouthed at Ron who shrugged in reply.
"She'll get over it," he mouthed back, beginning to twiddle his thumbs. Hermione immediately cast him a reproachful look and he wheeled his chair to her side. I rolled my eyes, aware of the impending rush of sweet nothings that was about to spew forth from Ron's gullet.
A knock at the door distracted me and I looked up to see the hazy shape of a woman through the frosted glass. I straightened my tie before opening the door. Maybe my day was going to get better.
No luck.
"Hiya, Harry!" a familiar voice squealed, throwing her arms around my neck and kicking up a heel behind her.
"Hey, Luna," I greeted, prying myself out of her grip. I beckoned her into the office and shut the door behind her. She flashed an all-knowing smile that reminded me that she didn't know so much, and I offered her a chair.
"Naw, Harry, I'm good standing," she stated and paused, hands on her hips, one foot slightly askew and knee bent. It took me a minute to realize she was posing and awaiting a compliment.
Looking over his shoulder, Ron made a face that crossed between disgust and confusion before turning back to his wife and whispering in her ear. Whatever flapdoodle he was gushing at her seemed to have calmed her down, at least. Choosing to ignore them, I looked back to the woman before me, but hesitated before speaking.
"So what brings you in today, Luna?"
Though, I really wasn't interested.
"Just seeing how you are, Harry, you know. Out and about. I tried catching you this morning as you ran past my door, but you sure were in a hurry," she responded, snapping her gum and flashing an 'I'm-too-cute-for-my-knickers-don't-you-think' smile. The door opened again, this time without a knock.
"Heya, Harry," Neville saluted, touching the bill on his hat with a smile as he approached the desk. His newsboys cap was awry and some of his brown hair fell onto his forehead, a quill tucked behind his ear. The short, wide tie he was wearing, one of many he rotated through the week, was twisted and flipped backwards, as it often was. "Oh, hey there, Luna." The young man's cheeks turned a little pink when he saw the woman standing near him.
"Hiya, Nevy," Luna cooed, fixing his tie and kissing his cheek, only causing him to blush more. Shaking my head, I got up and pulled up the blinds and peered down at the street three floors below.
That's when I saw her coming up the sidewalk.
It was hard to see her face clearly because of the wide brimmed hat and the sunglasses she was sporting, but I wasn't bothered. If the face behind those glasses was half as beautiful as the rest of her, I'd be fine.
She walked into the building.
I moved passed Neville and Luna and flung the door open, standing on my tiptoes in the doorway to see if she was coming up to our floor.
"What are you doing, Harry?" Ron asked, rolling away from Hermione a little and craning his neck to see what I was looking for.
I started to answer, but then I heard her footsteps on the stairs.
"Harry?"
They didn't stop at the first floor.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked.
"Shush, Mione," I muttered, batting at hand at her.
They didn't seem to be stopping at the second floor either, though they hesitated.
"Is someone coming?" Ron asked.
"Shutup, Ron," I mumbled, not turning away but biting my lip in anticipation of seeing her shadow in the stairwell.
"I do hope it's my hairdresser," Luna put in, touching her hair lightly. I turned to her and the four of us threw her a collective frown and she said, "I have a loose curl."
"Your hair looks great to these eyes, baby," Neville told her and she slapped him playfully on the chest.
"You're so silly, Nevy," she giggled, popping her gum.
Grumbling, I turned back to the corridor, only to see her hat appearing on the stairs. I shut the door and leaned against it for a moment before running to my chair. I tried tilting my hat back a little, letting some of my black hair fall into my eyes, and putting my feet up on the desk, arms hanging limply over the sides of my chair. Hearing approaching footsteps, I put my feet back on the ground and pulled a cigarette out of my shirt pocket and tossed it into my mouth, patting my pockets and rifling through desk drawers for a light.
Neville lit a match and cupped it in his hands, holding it out to me. I started to lean forward when I heard Hermione ask, "When's Ginny coming, Ron?"
"Sometime this morning," he answered.
"Ginny's coming?" I asked, forgetting the light and the cigarette as it fell to the floor.
A light knock sounded on the door and Neville jerked his hand back, dropping the match and stomping on it, cursing under his breath.
Ron started for the door and I snatched up my cigarette and put it in the corner of my lips, catching him just as he reached for the doorknob.
"I got this one, Ron," I said out of the side of my mouth, taking hold of the doorknob before he could.
"What's the big deal, Harry?" Ron asked, giving me a confused look and beginning to fight me for the door handle.
"I got this one, Ron," I repeated through clenched teeth, pushing him away with my shoulder. He stumbled a little and I stood triumphantly.
"Harry, it's just …"
I flung the door open and my jaw dropped when I saw the woman on the other side as she took off her horn-rimmed sunglasses.
"Ginny!" Ron exclaimed, pushing me aside and embracing his sister, carrying her into the office. I pushed the door shut and braced myself against it with my palm, still in shock.
"Hello, Virginia," I managed.
The younger girl hesitated before she turned and looked me over briefly.
"Harry," she said flatly, boredom in her features, turning back to her brother and sister-in-law. I lumbered back to my desk, noting to myself that July 23rd was quickly becoming my worst day of the year.
"It looks like you guys are pretty busy," Luna sighed, looking around the office. Pulling my wand from my pocket and tapping it on my desk lackadaisically, I nodded my consent. "I'll see you around, Harry. Ron. The usual time, Nevy?"
"You bet," the enamoured man told her as she trailed a hand across his chest, sauntering to the door. With one more glance at me, she winked and cracked her gum before exiting.
Neville seemed to be regaining his composure and I called to him.
"Whaddaya got for me, Neville?"
"Oh, right. Harry." The man moved and rested on the edge of my desk, pulling a small notebook out of his shirt pocket and flipping it open, retrieving the quill from behind his ear. He tapped the point on the paper and opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to be at a loss for words.
I glanced at Ginny's back and wished Neville would tell me something urgent so I could leave and have a better reason than an unquenchable thirst for firewhiskey.
"You haven't put me on a job in weeks," he declared, looking at me oddly. This was true. I hadn't had a job in weeks. What was that? The firewhiskey had begun to call to me.
"Then why are you here?" I asked, glancing again at the ginger-haired girl that was avoiding my eyes.
Neville chose his words very carefully, flipping the notebook closed and pocketing it. He twirled the quill in his fingertips.
"I have a … tip, let's say, from … an anonymous … source."
My eyes shifted back to him and I knew who his 'source' was.
"What does she want now and why didn't she just ask me herself?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.
"Whatever. What is this … 'tip' you've got?"
It was Neville's turn to hesitate.
"There's some questionable business going on in the black market."
"It's the black market, Neville. By definition, it's questionable," I informed him.
"Well, sure, but doubly so this time."
"How is that possible?" I had to ask, choosing to ignore the fact that Ginny had bent to pick up something that had slipped off Hermione's desk and staring at Neville intently, though the view wasn't nearly as attractive.
"Word on the street is that there's gonna be an illegal shipment of …"
"Shipment of what?" I asked, looking at him expectantly.
Neville's reply was muffled by his not opening his mouth hardly at all and the quietness of his voice.
"Excuse me?"
"Rummleorredoracks."
I raised my eyebrows and shook my head.
"Crumpled-Horned Snorkacks," he said quickly, glancing sheepishly over his shoulder, making sure no one else heard.
"Damn it, Neville," I cringed, letting my wand fall to the desk and feeling the call of the firewhiskey very similar to the navel-tugging of a portkey, differing only in that the summons of the beloved drink did not, unfortunately, possess transporting powers over long distances.
"Just consider yourself tipped off," the man said, standing and holding up his hands, palms outward.
"Thanks, I'll remember that."
"You know how to get me if you need me," Neville said, tapping the bill of his hat in my direction and again at Ron. He took it off and bowed at the ladies who waved. He replaced his cap and left.
Again, I found myself being ignored by everyone in the room. Wasn't this my office? I spun to look out the window and decided to smoke the cigarette still hanging from my mouth, but, upon finding my lack of lighting utensil, I put it back in my shirt pocket.
"You should tell him yourself," I heard Ron say and felt eyes on me, but I refused to turn around and spied an airplane in the clouds.
"Right now?" Ginny asked quietly.
"Whaddaya know?" Ron exclaimed, "Now would be perfect, seeing as Hermione and I were just stepping out for lunch."
"We are?" Hermione asked and there was movement behind me as if Ron had pulled his wife to her feet.
"It's only ten, Ron," Ginny put in.
"Perfect hour for coffee."
"I thought it was lunch?" Hermione asked.
"It's only ten, Mione. I can take you for breakfast if you're hungry."
I bit back laughter and noticed a fly buzzing around the room.
"Hey, Harry, we'll be back after awhile. Going to get some breakfast for Hermione, she's hungry," Ron called.
"Am not," my secretary interjected heatedly.
Ron ignored her, "Do you want anything?"
I spun lazily to face the three Weasleys.
"No thanks."
"We'll be back," and with that, Ron rolled his chair back to his desk, slung his jacket over his forearm and pushed his wife into the corridor. He shut the door loudly behind him and I was left trying not to look at the younger Weasley yet again.
"Would you like to sit?" I asked, motioning to the chair behind Ron's desk.
"Why not?" she replied, strolling to the chair and sitting down. I clenched my jaw and leaned forward on my desk, unwilling to let myself remember the way she moved.
"Ron didn't tell me you were coming," I made an attempt at polite conversation.
"Why would he do that?" she inquired, quirking a fiery eyebrow.
She had got me there.
"We're best friends. Things come up in conversation," I covered quickly. "You just visiting family, or are you here on business?"
By business, I didn't mean her's, but that of her famed fiancé. I scowled inwardly at my own mention of the scum.
"Funny you mention business," she began, crossing her legs and leaning back in the chair. My gaze shifted immediately to the fly I'd seen earlier. "No one knows we're here yet besides Ron."
"Au contraire, miss. I was having a friendly chat with your soon-to-be-father-in-law and he mentioned it."
She seemed suddenly unnerved.
"Why were you talking to Lucius?"
"He's a business man, and sometimes I find myself in need of his services."
Ginny gave me a look of absolute loathing.
"The truth comes out, at last. I knew you were familiar with his … strumpets," she spat.
"I never touched his strumpets or anyone else's until you flew off to wherever it was with your new bauble," I spat back with a fluttering hand gesture, standing up.
"Oh, so it was me who sent you to the trollops, was it?"
She was standing now as well, her voice getting louder.
"And Draco is not a 'bauble'. He has very expensive tastes, actually, unlike some men I've known," she hissed coming around the desk.
"Just because I like the simpler things in life doesn't mean I'm worthless," I shouted, taking a step toward her.
"I never said you were worthless. Just cheap," she said quietly, looking up at me.
I couldn't argue this point and she knew it, so I kissed her, returning to my chair when I pulled back.
"Why in the hell did you just do that?" she asked loudly.
I couldn't answer that, so I didn't. Rather, I picked up a quill out of the ink stand and scribbled something about a shipment of Crumpled-Horned Snorkacks.
She sighed and pulled Ron's chair to my side, sitting down and spinning me to face her.
"I do have something I need to talk to you about."
I was happy we were speaking freely finally.
"Lay it on me, ba … Ginny," I corrected at the last second.
"It's about … my fiancé."
"How's the bau … How is Draco doing these days?"
"He's been acting funny lately; shady, almost."
"Draco Malfoy, shady? No," I mocked, leaning back in my chair and smirking at her.
"He's very good at what he does, Harry. As foolish as it sounds, the front is legitimate. There was a time when even you, Harry Potter, Private Investigator: Gumshoe Who Finds The Gum On The Bad Guys' Shoes, wouldn't have been able to find a drop of wrong-doing associated with D.M.'s Bubbly Pop Bottling Company."
I snorted at the slogan I used to have printed at the bottom of my business cards. I wondered if she remembered the slogan she wrote in my birthday card two years ago, as well, but shook the thought out of my head.
She was right about the bottling company. After she had left me, I sought out any possible crooked affiliation of Draco's, and as far as records were concerned, they didn't exist.
"What exactly do you think he's doing?"
"I don't know," she mumbled, standing and turning away from me.
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"I don't know."
My shoulders slumped and I frowned, contemplating why I even chose to wake up in the mornings, seeing as the only one really interested in speaking to me was an antique of a man that was the editor-in-chief at the newspaper. I moved to stand behind her.
"Then why are you here?"
She hesitated before turning and looking up at me.
"I wanted to see you again."
I liked that answer so much, I gave her another kiss.
She quirked an eyebrow at me.
"You've been drinking."
"I have not."
"Last night. Firewhiskey. I can taste it on your tongue."
I smiled a little.
"Is that a wand in your pocket, Harry, or are you just happy to see me?" she smirked.
My eyes widened a little as she turned and started for the door. I opened my mouth to tell her, that, obviously, it was my wand, but she spoke up first.
"Your wand is on your desk."
Again, the young Weasley was right, so I sat down and dropped my hat into my lap.
"I overheard Draco say something about meeting an old friend on the strip tonight," Ginny told me, looking back, her hand on the doorknob. "Thought you ought to know."
And that's how I found myself skulking in the dank alleyway, drowning in the light rain that had soaked my fedora thoroughly. I remembered her taste and smiled, feeling that old feeling in my stomach.
"It's much better if you suck on them," a voice I didn't want to hear called to me. I hadn't even seen her approaching.
"Excuse me?" I asked, squinting through the rain at Luna Lovegood standing by the streetlamp a few feet away.
"Your cigarette. You're just looking at it as it burns in vain," she clarified, snapping her gum. I quickly brought it to my lips and motioned for her to step out of the light of the streetlamp.
"What are you doing here? I thought you had a date with Neville."
I offered her a drag off the cigarette and she accepted.
"He's sleeping. I'll be back before he wakes up," she said, exhaling the smoke slowly and flicking ash to the wet sidewalk. "What are you doing here?"
"I don't know," I muttered, reclaiming the addictive distraction and puffing lightly on it.
"Want to get a drink?" she offered.
"Not with you," I replied, "You can finish that; they're going to kill me someday."
"You'll kill yourself first, falling after Ginny again," she told me, taking one last draw off the cigarette before letting it drop to the concrete and crushing it with her foot.
"Goodnight, Luna," I called over my shoulder, as I exited the alleyway.
"See ya, Harry," she said, her gum popping a final time as I walked away, heading for the Forge.