Happy Birthday
July 31, 2014
A blonde witch sat at a bar in a Muggle restaurant, a pager next to her drink. Her husband was in the bathroom. She looked around. It was a quiet restaurant; not many people were present. That didn't mean it was a bad restaurant. It was simply unknown. Anonymous.
A restaurant worthy of Robert Galbraith. A private smile curled slightly at the witch's lips.
The witch looked to the barstool to her right. A second before, it had been unoccupied. But now, she laid unconcerned eyes on a thirty-four year old man with hopelessly messy black hair and round glasses. A bartender had not seen to him, but yet, he stared contemplatively into a glass of whiskey. Sensing her gaze, he jerked his head up to look at her with bright green eyes. He smiled in greeting, as if to an old friend. It was the carefree smile of a man content with his life. The wizard raised his glass to her, "Not the same as Firewhiskey."
The witch smiled, "Celebrating?"
"You know it."
"Where is your family?"
"Home, waiting for me." They shared a private, knowing smile, as if an understanding was passing between them, "I came for you. I know you're celebrating, too."
She laughed lightly, "Of course you do."
He winked, and she smiled, pleased, at the level of relaxation the gesture indicated in the wizard beside her. He had been through so much. "We won't speak of numbers, now, won't we?"
The witch grinned and immediately replied, "Oh, no!"
The wizard glanced over his shoulder, "Your husband is coming. I must go home." He finished his drink, and placed it on the bar. "Happy birthday, old friend."
"Happy birthday, Harry," she murmured. She blinked, and he was gone. His empty glass was, too.
Her husband walked to stand beside her stool, "Our table's not ready, yet?"
"Not yet," she replied, smiling slightly into her drink. "I should've ordered you something, I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it," he replied, studying her face with a smile of his own. "What are you thinking about? Your next bestseller?"
She laughed, "No." The witch was silent for a moment, "Today is Harry's birthday."
He raised his eyebrows, "It's yours, too."
She shrugged, her smile widening, "I know."
Their pager vibrated. Her husband picked it up. "Ready?"
"Ready," she replied, glancing at Harry's vacated chair.
Of course it happened inside her head. But that doesn't mean it wasn't real.