-1Part 10: The Border
"No, um…I have it here, I know it," Andy said, struggling with her multitude of paperwork. The border guard looked very unimpressed. The group was crossing into by way of a magically hidden outpost in Texas, but it seemed American wizards loved paperwork just as much as the Muggles. Andy was now searching for all the files that would let them into Mexico and get them transportation on to Mexico City.
"Err, is it in the red folder?" Harry asked, picking through some of the things she'd already discarded.
"No, I checked that," Andy said, her head almost disappearing into her bag in her desperate search. It didn't appear to be going well. Felipe took sympathy on Andy and, feeling a bit more at ease with someone from his own country, he explained their problem to the guard in Spanish. The man's expression didn't change, but he began conversing with Felipe. Ron sighed and promptly fell asleep in his chair at the back of the small office.
"What about one of these pink ones?" Hermione asked, looking over the American witch's shoulder and reaching into the bag. Andy gave a yelp and snapped the case shut suddenly, making Hermione jump in alarm before her fingers were caught.
"No, um, ah…" Andy stammered, suddenly blushing, "those, those are something else." Everyone just stared at her, causing her to lower her head almost to the guard's desk as her blush deepened. Felipe and his new friend, who also happened to be from eastern Mexico, had no idea what was going on and promptly went back to their conversation. Hermione's interest was piqued, but Harry continued looking through folders, feeling that he wasn't being very helpful.
"Pink is an interesting color," Hermione said dryly, continuing her own search for their papers.
"I have a, uh…system," Andy said, trying to swallow despite a suddenly dry throat. Hermione smiled, but she hoped it didn't look too much like a smirk. They had talked on the long flight down, and Hermione had grown to like the woman, and would be genuinely happy to see something between the woman and her ever unlucky in love best friend.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
In Mexico, a tastefully and expensively furnished office was bathed in the light of the setting sun. A large man in a well-groomed suit stood watching the city through the half drawn blinds. He smoked a cigar that claimed to be from Cuba but was most likely Dominican or even Haitian. Behind him, a thinner man was seated at the large, mahogany desk, currently wondering how it was that every time this particular man came to visit him, it no longer seemed to be the thin man's office.
"This situation has become ridiculously dangerous to the both of us, Marco," the big man said, watching the city grow from orange to red with the coming of the evening. He had a special appreciation for the sun, and how it bathed the world. Its light could effect the entire world's appearance, its mood, but no one ever seemed to appreciate the power it had over their lives. The heathens all took the sun for granted. It was why he had decided they no longer deserved it.
"We're aware of the threat, Senor," Marco said, wishing his voice would not betray his fear of the other man.
"And yet you sit in your office, smoking bad cigars with your friends, playing make believe with the people outside your window," the man said, watching the people on the street below, dodging past cars, selling things no one needed from carts. He had no respect for any of them, least of all Marco. His plans were too long in preparation for him to just watch them unravel. If Marco could keep this so-called threat at bay, he might even be worth keeping alive.
"The pawns are in place," Marco said, his anger growing with his fear, "You know as well as I the king does not move unless directly threatened."
"I find it amusing you consider yourself a 'king', Marco," the man said turning from the window with a very feral grin.
"Need I remind you that it wasn't my fault that this child threatens your evil ambitions in the first place?" Marco asked sarcastically, letting his anger get the better of him. He flinched slightly, afraid of an immediate attack. The smile left the other man's face.
"I know your mind is limited," he growled, "but I wouldn't have thought even you capable of deluding yourself into believing you're more intelligent than me." The man crushed the stub of his cigar in the ash tray and walked slowly to the door. He opened the door, and without bothering to look back, said, "Take care of Potter or you're dead, Marco. It's that simple."
Marco slumped in his chair as the door slammed shut. He had been fairly certain he was about to be killed, and was rather relieved to still be breathing. This entire fiasco was idiotic, he thought yet again, lighting another cigar and putting it out again before even taking a pull. Some clerk in the Militar had gone rushing off to Britain, and they had sent a powerful magic creature of death after him to scare off the Potter boy. The whole thing had blown up in their faces, and somehow it fell to Marco to fix, as always.
"Beatriz," Marco said, pushing the intercom on his desk, "contact Senor Hernandez and be sure he won't screw up his one, very simple task." He had been the one to stop the Militar from taking down the lunatic native and his cult. Now, he was being threatened with death if he didn't stop these children from Britain. In Marco's opinion, it was the Mayan who was in his debt.
"Si, Senor Sangria," came the voice from the other room.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"That was interesting," Harry said, walking down the unpaved street of the small Mexican border town.
"I think the Mexicans have a weird definition of 'cavities'," Ron grumbled, still not walking correctly.
"Just be glad Felipe went to compulsory school with that official back there," Hermione said, picking daintily at a roasted corn she'd had her husband buy for her.
"I'm still amazed by the coincidence," Phil said, rather happy he had been of use, and enjoying the more familiar feel of the city, despite the large number of tourists this close to the border. The others all seemed to be quite a bit happier now that they'd finally reached their destination. Sort of. They were almost there, anyhow, Harry thought. Only Agent Kemper seemed to be in bad spirits, still embarrassed about the whole fiasco with the papers.
"At least it worked out," Harry said, looking at Andy. She saw him smile at her, and gave a shy grin back. He was really very nice for someone so famous, she thought. If only his friends were that way, she thought ruefully of Hermione's repeated nosiness. At least she hadn't gotten her pink folders, which Andy was now beginning to regret putting in her case in the first place.
"It is wonderful that we arrived when we did," Phil said suddenly, earning some odd looks. "In a few days, it shall be Dia de Los Muertos. I would have hated to have been away from my family, then."
"Oh, Halloween," Hermione said, smiling at the thought, "I'd almost forgotten in all the excitement. British wizards celebrate the day, too, but nothing compared to Mexico, I've heard."
"My home town has a wonderful festival," Phil said, more excited than they'd ever seen him. "I will be happy to show you all around, if you have time before starting your investigation."
"Our.." Harry said, confused, "You're not coming with us, Phil?"
"Senor Potter," Phil said, suddenly rather subdued, "surely you know I can not join you after we speak with my superiors. They will most likely, ah…what is the word, fire me. Even if I still have my job, I am only a clerk."
"Oh," Harry said, realizing for the first time the real implication of what Phil had done. He hadn't even considered finishing this job without the man, even after they'd been told of his deception. Frankly, Harry had been glad he had done it, and would have done the same. "Well…we'll just have to tell your bosses we'll be needing a clerk on this case, won't we?"
"Senor," Felipe said, overcome by Harry's generosity. He had never met anyone who would go so far out of their way just for him, let alone someone so famous, so great. So…like his father. Phil didn't look forward to that coming conversation. Even worse, he seriously doubted the Militar would let him join his new friends in their journey, even at Harry Potter's request.
"We'll figure it out," Harry said with his trademark naive confidence. He always had the odd ability to both inspire and exasperate those around him.
"And you always have that man eating trunk if they say no," Ron said. Harry wasn't especially grateful for the reminder of the murderous thing, still in its shrunken box placed carefully in the duffel bag he always traveled with. He wasn't as good as Hermione at keeping up with all the crappy variables that tended to spring up on a bad case.
A small cantina in one of the better parts of town served as their rest stop for the evening before retiring to their reasonably good looking hotel. Mexico wasn't a very rich country, but the wizarding community always managed to get by all right, even the poorer families, and were always rather happy and clean people. Harry sat nursing something with lemon and a wizard's version of tequila. He wasn't sure if there was any actual difference, except the worm in his bottle was glowing a bright green.
"Andy is a nice girl," Hermione commented off hand, sipping her own drink. Kemper had already retired for the evening, and Hermione had sent Ron on ahead so she could have a "talk" with Harry, as she put it. She had hoped that Tonks would leave them as well, but she had decided earlier in the evening that she would not allow Harry to out drink her again. It was just as well, Hermione thought, as Tonks would surely be on her side.
"Yep," Harry said, rendered monosyllabic by his slight buzz. "Wish she hadn't taken the whole…passport thing so hard. Need to..need to tell her she's a lot of help to us."
"Oh, yes," Hermione said, hiding her annoyance at his drunken state. "You should definitely tell her how much you like having her along, Harry."
"Yeah, err…" Harry started, his thoughts now jumbling a bit. "Um, hmm? Oh, no. What…What do you mean by that?"
"You are so pissed, Harry," Tonks laughed, not terribly sober herself. "She's tryin' to set ya up with the Yank."
"Tonks," Hermione snapped. She disliked her friends getting so drunk while they were working and the fact that they were still able to see through her ulterior motives.
"Oh, c'mon, 'Mione," Harry reprimanded, doing his best to cut through the fog. "We're…we're out here working, ya know? You need to let up on that stuff."
"Maybe we should discuss this after you've slept it off," Hermione said, somewhat defeated. She was never easily swayed, but even she could see the futility of trying to change Harry's mind on his love life while he was faced.
"Aw, Harry, she's just tryin' to get ya laid," Tonks said, finished off her rum and coke. They had a very good brand straight from Cuba here.
"Well," Harry said, sexual thoughts overpowering his hindered brain, "can't really…argue with that."
"I don't think a one night stand with a partner while on a mission is appropriate," Hermione said, not believing a woman older than her and married was being so crass, even when drunk and among friends.
"Ah, you're just…" Tonks gathered her wits for a moment, "you're just jealous you're not…doin' it yerself."
"Nymphadora," Hermione said quietly, the chill in her voice cutting straight through Tonks's buzz. She straightened up a bit, shrugging off her momentary anger at the use of her first name. It only showed her she'd gone too far. Drunk or not, she didn't want to hurt a friend.
"Sorry, 'Mione," Tonks said, somewhat sheepishly. "Just, just joking."
"That was over the line," Hermione said, all patience now gone. She signaled for the check and got out her purse. "You've both had far too much. You're going back to the hotel to sleep it off, and I for one won't be brewing any draughts for your hangovers in the morning. Harry, be sure you take care of that trunk before you go to sleep. Even miniaturized, it might bite off a few fingers."
"Yes, ma'am," Harry said, his head sinking slowly to rest comfortably on the cool table. He wondered if he'd manage to gather the energy to actually sit upright again before morning.
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A/N: Sorry for being a bit late this week. I was worried I wouldn't get this in till Saturday, as I had to close a few nights this week. The absolute worst part of retail work, honestly. Hope the drinking wasn't too much of a cheap joke, but I at least did you all the service of foregoing the usual slurring P I also made sure to write a bit more, as I understand what you mean, morrigan. This fic is oddly episodic, even for me. As always, please read and review everyone. I always appreciate everything.