Chapter One: You Say Goodbye and I Say Hello
As I pick up the daily prophet, I smile at the title. Somehow they've managed to snag the news that Britain's beloved Boy-Who-Lived is going to be married to his Hogwarts sweetheart. Wondering just who could've possibly gotten that gossip on their hands, I walk to the usual seven o'clock portkey into London—a few cans of Pepsi just outside of muggle sight.
To be honest, I'm not one for gossip. I knew a few girls back at my own Hogwarts days who gossiped so often it could rival my father's smoking habits, but it had always bored me to some extent. I didn't want to talk about other people's lives… I wanted to live!
Letting out a dry laugh, I put my foot on the portkey and wait to see if Weasley is going to work on time today. It's highly unlikely considering the fact that Fleur's preparing for pup number two and, unfortunately, she's one of those woman who doesn't get through her nine months on cloud nine.
Soon I feel the leaves around me pick up and I feel the familiar pain that is brought on by portkey travel—a gut-wrenching urge to throw all of your insides on the outside. Before I can let it all out of me, my feet are safely planted on the ground just outside of wizarding London. I give a sign of relief before heading into The Leaky Cauldron to report my findings to a certain acquaintance of mine.
"Hannah," says Tom as I pull up a seat in front of the bar. He hands me my usual spot of tea with a spike of butterbeer and asks, " 'ow've you been?"
Tom is the keeper of the only place that keeps me sane. I come here when I'm exhausted or happy. It's a place caught somewhere in between a muggle and magical world, which is exactly where I am now. Ernie has never been patient enough to fully explain the magical world to me and I have very few muggle born friends. Despite my half-blood status, my father isn't magical. My mother would have taught me everything about life in the wizarding world, but she passed away during my sixth year at Hogwarts, so I had to either attend muggle school for two years or get a job in the wizarding world. Seeing as I didn't fancy the idea of learning calculus and memorizing Shakespeare, I applied for a job working at Gingotts.
I guess all this has forced the Leaky to sort of become the only place where I can learn to take in the magical world without my mother. One day, I want to own a place just like this.
"Great," I confess happily and take a sip of the searing liquid. Though I'm not fantastic, I'm still not dreadful, so its not a complete lie. "I don't imagine you've been keeping up with the prophet?" Through his beady blue eyes I see a sudden twinge of annoyance.
Tom scoffs. "Not likely." I slide the article I've clipped out of the prophet for him to see and he looks surprised. "Harry's already popped the question?"
I smile at this. "Yeah, three months ago. I don't know what happened! They were doing so well with keeping it silent."
"Yer forgetting that not many of those prophet reporters have anything better to do with their time." We share a laugh at this. "Has he heard yet?"
I quiet myself and shrug my shoulders. "To be honest, I'm not sure, Tom. I'm seeing him today at ten for an advisory meeting, but hopefully he won't be too upset if he finds out then." I want to say more but I'm interrupted by my own squeak as my hair gets ruffled by the familiar touch of an old friend. Groaning, I turn around to find the smiling face of Ernie Macmillan as he munches on a chocolate frog.
"Morning Hannah," he says casually, taking a seat next to me and asking Tom to bring him a cold blend of whiskey and a bagel. Tom stares at him curiously before shaking his head and walking off to fetch his order. Ernie grins at me with the familiar grin and I can't help but laugh. He knows something I don't.
"Don't you have work at the Ministry?"
"Nope," he says simply before instantaneously changing the subject. "You know that Longbottom fellow we were chatting up a storm with at that Ministry ball a few days ago?" I nod, unsure of where this is going. "He fancies you."
"W-what?" I sputter, a deep flush coming to my cheeks. Ernie snickers at my reaction and directs his attention to reading the forgotten article on the counter. "Ernie! What do you mean by he fancies me?"
He sucks his cheeks in and makes a popping noise. "Er, he thinks you're pretty? He wants to snog you? I don't know what you mean by that question." Typical Macmillan.
Before I can reply, Tom returns and looks between us with another strange glance. "You know this wonker?"
"Oy!" protests Ernie. I laugh, nodding my head towards Tom and drown my flushed face in another gulp of tea.
"Yeah, he's my boyfriend." The term is a loose definition.
Trying to change the subject again, Ernie picks up the article again. "What's this about our beloved Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley?"
I allow myself to relax as I reply to him, "They're getting married. The prophet's three months late on the news, though."
Ernie gives a hoot of approval. "Talk about a big happy Weasley family," he says happily.
I can't help but be coy around the subject of families. "Speaking of families," I begin, but Ernie cuts me off by plugging his ears and singing an off key tune of "La, la, la, la!" I take him in with amusement until he stops acting childish and listens to me. "Remember what we talked about the other day?" I gaze fondly into his eyes but he seems unsure and turns to eat his bagel.
In a way I envy Ginny Weasley very much. I seldom doubt her fiancé has money problems—mostly because I am his financial advisor. Ever since we left Hogwarts, Ernie and I have had a very… strange relationship, to put it delicately. Some nights U felt just like another one of the guys or like that old dependable friend he'd always had. Yet others… my cheeks flush as memories of moonlit snogging and other activities flood my mind. We try to avoid conversations about our relationship for the most part. Even I feel that once we begin to sort it out we just get caught up in more of a mess than before.
Yet, despite this silent agreement, I couldn't help but turn to him one night as we watching an old muggle movie (Ernie was fascinated by the prospect that a disk could produce moving pictures) at my flat one night and imagine. I could see us in this same situation only with a delicate ring on our fingers and maybe a little girl on his lap or a boy on mine.
Ginny, whilst accompanying Harry on one of his financial excursions, once dreamily told me, "It's wonderful, Hannah… and scary all at once! To think that I'm going to spend the rest of my life with the same person and fall asleep in his arms every night…" She made it sound wonderful. I craved that emotion so much after that. I wanted to feel that excitement all for my own so I turned over to Ernie and told him what I wanted.
"No," he'd said softly, shaking his head and looking away, "Not yet." He didn't have to explain why, because I already knew why. Purebloods have certain expectations to uphold, one of them being that they should marry with money. However, anyone who knew Ernie well enough to go out to a pub with him (which so happened to be just about everyone he met) knew that he and money were about as good together as Oliver Wood and a football.
She did not have to wait like me. Ginny had someone with enough for her and her entire family to live in Dubai for the rest of their lives while I had Ernie who wouldn't dare go against tradition and just marry me already.
"Hannah?" I look up to meet his eyes as they stare down at me with concern. His hand feels warm against my own. "Are you alright?"
I look away and notice that it's getting late. Thanking Tom for his time, I mutter a goodbye to the both of them and start down the street for Gringotts Bank. It's funny how life can reflect itself, seeing as my work life was seldom better than my romantic life.
Calming myself with a deep inhale then exhale of air, I walk through the grand doors outside of the even grander building that is Gingotts and make my way to the staff check in area towards the back. Though the goblins are snappy and the pay less than rewarding, I report in at work at exactly 8:15 every day. Perhaps because if I didn't I wouldn't be able to buy those little chocolate brownies that sit in the window of my favorite café in Crawley or because I honestly don't have anything better to do with my time. Because, believe me, if I did have the opportunity to do something better, I would take it in a heartbeat.
"Miss Abbott," says the shrewd voice of the clerk at the assignments desk. I nearly jump out of my heels but regain myself quick enough to face the goblin with a social smile. He hands me my scroll of assignments with the usual haughty snoot of disapproval.
Thankful that I was spared the usual presumptuous comment on my attire or jittery behavior, I take a seat in one of the cars leading to the volts and offices throughout the bank and brace myself. Even though my scroll is snugly at my side, I soon find that the papers inside must not have been adhered with a spell today. I sigh at the realization that today was going to be a long day.
Author's Note: SOMETHING CANON COMPLIENT? Wow! Well, it's very odd writing such things, considering all that is posted on my main account is very much in an Alternate Universe setting. However, I have a reputation to up keep over there! xD What would my readers think if I started posting this canon bussiness? Well, this is where Miss Amelia Pond comes in handy!
Catch you on the flipside!
Amelies