On the Twelfth Hour of Christmas...
(Hour 3)

"I think you're deliberately aiming them for my face."

"Maybe your face is deliberately in the way of my projectiles?"

Ginny had come to the conclusion that jail, as a whole, was boring. She was currently rolling up bits of rubbish found in her jacket pockets and throwing them at her cellmate, Remus Lupin. He was trying to ignore the balls of lolly wrappers and receipts that were hitting him on the nose and was looking through the piles of half-insane notes Ginny had made for their co-authored romantic novel. So far, he had worked out that there were aliens involved, but aliens with 'really big knockers'.

"Ginny, I don't know how any of these bits and pieces fit into our story!" Remus declared, handing back her notes with an aghast look on his face. "Aliens? I wanted to do a turn-of-the-century romantic novel with strong female characters who defy the social oppression of their time."

She screwed up her nose. "That's boring! I know our last book was a best seller and it was all about darning socks and ripped bodices, but we don't want to be pigeon-holed!"

"I'm quite fond of pigeons, personally." Remus said quietly, making Ginny lose her argument in a puff of self-important smoke.

"Wh-what?"

"Pigeons. They're nice. Soothing. I had a tape of pigeon sounds once; it was to help me get to sleep." Remus leant back against the wall, arms folded behind his head acting as a cushion.

Curiosity itched at Ginny, so she asked: "Did it help at all?"

"Oh, heavens no. I kept thinking my flat was infested with birds."

2:00PM

Ten hours prior to the arrest

Having been exposed to new areas of Ginny's neighbourhood, Remus was beginning to feel slightly worried for his younger companion's safety. It seemed that every corner held a prostitute in varying states of Christmas decoration, and an increasing number of dodgy houses. Ginny herself cheerfully pointed out the crack-dens and brothels as they walked to Old Rodney's, which did not at all allay his fears.

"Aren't you nervous about living in a place like this?" Remus asked finally after they had walked around a passed-out drunk littering the pavement.

Ginny shrugged, her shoulders lost under her immense jacket. "Not particularly. I have a wand and half a dozen brothers. Not to mention the fact they all think I'm a witch."

"What?!" Remus almost squawked, making the man on the ground groan and rustle his newspaper blanket threateningly. "And the Ministry hasn't paid you a visit yet?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course they haven't. Why would they bother? It's just a harmless urban legend. I haven't done any magic in front of the Muggles – I'm not touched in the head. I can't help it if a few gullible people see a broom, a floppy gardening hat and that black stray hanging around and come up with crazy theories."

"It's dangerous. It's all jokes now," Remus put on a croaky, high-pitched voice, imitating a woman poorly, "'Oh, that house has a witch in it. Newt toes and frog lips! I wonder if she can make my Edgar more virile in bed.'" His tone grew darker. "But then one day they'll be knocking politely on your door, carrying pitchforks and flaming torches."

Ginny grinned at him. "You'd make a good woman."

"Well, I've warned you."

Remus had no time for further prophetic messages, as they had reached the pawnshop. The sign proclaimed that Old Rodney bought and sold used items and lent money, all with friendly service and minimal amounts of identification needed. The front window appeared to have been broken recently, and was boarded up with a liberal amount of cardboard and duct tape. Someone – presumably the notorious Old Rodney – had written on the improvised window in marker pen the dates when the shop would be closed over the holiday season, as well as a few racial slurs for good measure. Fortunately, Old Rodney was open on Christmas Eve.

Remus' hand went to his pocket, where he kept his Self-Preservation Whistle, given in the classes he had taken, and his fingers curled around the noisemaker comfortingly. Ginny seemed unaffected by the promised violence on the cardboard and pushed open the door, making a pathetic bell tinkle dutifully. "Rodney? Are you in?"

A voice floated through the poorly lit shop in reply. "'Course I am, Ginny-dear! S'Christmas Eve an' what kind of pawnbroker would I be if I closed on the most profitable day o' the year?"

"A not very good one?" Remus offered quietly.

"Quite right, quite right." The voice grew closer, and Remus could feel his heart pounding away at his chest, spinning adrenalin to his limbs. This is ridiculous, he thought, furious that he would let some sleazy loanshark get the better of him. Taking a steadying breath, he forced himself to calm down and think clearly. The worst that could happen was that Old Rodney would rush them, and if that happened, Remus would have a hex out before the bastard could touch Ginny. Or, for that matter, himself. "Now what brings you, my peach, to Old Rodney's?"

The man had stepped forward into the illumination of a solitary hanging globe, and Remus felt doubly embarrassed for his reaction. Old Rodney's bowler hat could barely pass Remus' waist – and that was without him using the walker frame by his side. Ginny rushed to sweep Rodney up in a friendly hug. "My friend, Remus, he had his briefcase stolen by those awful Swindle boys and it had a rather important document in it. They said you bought it off them."

Old Rodney's face crinkled into an expression of sorrow. "M'sorry, Ginny love. I just sold it, contents and all."

Remus bit his tongue to stop from making a sound of frustration. Would he ever get his briefcase back, or would he have to continue the wild goose chase until Christmas Day? Ginny was more diplomatic than Remus' thoughts, and instead of smashing objects against a wall, she patted Rodney on the shoulder. "It's okay, Rodney. We appreciate you telling us this." She paused, then looked at Remus, who was trying very hard to keep calm and not panic. "D-do you think you could tell us what the buyer looked like? Or where they were headed?"

The old man cheered up considerably, and quickly dashed behind the counter once more, rummaging in mountains of paperwork. "You're in luck, my dear, my peach. If I were a respectable pawnbroker you would've had to use your girlish charms to make me break the confidentiality 't'ween buyer n' seller." Ginny and Remus looked at each other, neither being aware that there were respectable pawnbrokers who upheld some sort of code. "However, I'm a rotten, corrupt pawnbroker and can tell you with glee that it was a Ms. Janine Gough who purchased your most beloved briefcase."

"Oh, that's wonderful, Rodney!" Ginny gushed, smiling brightly. "Do you know where she lives?"

"'Fraid not, love. She did happen to mention going to a party this afternoon. A work do, I believe. She wouldn't shut up about it, actually. Oh, excuse my manners, my dear." Old Rodney looked down as the papers once more, and made a cry of delight. "An' here is her business card. My, I do say. You are the luckiest pair I've ever met in all my years."

Remus would have had a thing or two to say about "luck", considering he was trying to track down a stolen briefcase after all, but Ginny had leapt upon the old man once again to shower him in affection, and was dragging Remus, along with the card, outside.

"Look! I know this address. It's across town. This is great. Let's catch a taxi."

"Are you allergic to magic or something?" Remus asked crossly as she started waving her arms about to catch the attention of drivers.

"Of course not. I just like doing things the Muggle way. It's quaint. Challenging. If we did things the wizarding way, our Christmas adventure would be over before it began."

"Christmas adventure? We're finding my briefcase. It's hardly It's a Fantastic Life."

"It's a Wonderful Life, you mean." Her flailing had paid off, as a bright yellow car had pulled over to the curb, the driver waiting impatiently for them to get in.

"At the moment I think it's neither, quite honestly." Remus grumbled as he opened the door for Ginny.

She gave him a strange look, but entered the car, arranging herself in the disturbingly damp backseat. Remus sat down next to her, examining the seatbelts with fascination, but allowed Ginny to reach across and do the buckle, since he appeared to be new to Muggle safety. She handed the business card over to the driver and he pulled away from the curb, being absorbed by the steady flow of Christmas traffic.


Author's Note: Thank you to people who actually reviewed. I'm sorry I was all cranky yesterday, but I didn't have a very good day and I'd had something like six reviews for the last four things I've uploaded which isn't a great turn out. But I appreciate the two reviews I did receive and it is for that pair that this chapter is uploaded at all.