Chapter 17: Body Language

Harry's leads were gradually drying up. He had yet to hear from Marit Norheim. Harry kept an eye on the messenger he shared with Malfoy and Ramstad, aware Ramstad had met with her uncle. She never said anything about it in the days after, piquing Harry's frustration enough to vent to Hermione when she had him and Ron over to her flat for dinner ("She just started the wizarding equivalent of medical school. Give her a break," Hermione had said).

Ramstad finally wrote something on the following Sunday: Hey, Dagmar here. Sorry for the delay, I completely forgot I was going to give you an update if my uncle told me anything helpful. He didn't really. My dad's family knew my mum and I only so far back as Christmas 83 when they first heard about us. Turns out my dad and I weren't actually related so make of that what you will. My mum told my dad's family that she was raised in Britain and attended Hogwarts so big surprise, she's just full of shit all around.

Harry laughed the first time he read it, but looked at it a little differently when he revisited the message. He wasn't close to Ramstad, but he still felt bad for her. He thanked her for letting him know anyway, and received a follow-up from her saying that she didn't know when she'd see her uncle again, but if she did and learned something potentially useful, she'd pass it along.

The seat at Harry's desk was starting to develop the shape of his backside. A lull in his and Parasca's investigation had given Parasca time to teach Harry some other stuff about the job. Compared to trips to Paris, Bergen, and Azkaban, the paperwork was incredibly dull. Harry's mind drifted to Ginny's upcoming get-together.

Ginny's actual birthday was on the Tuesday of that week, which spared Harry and Ron having to think about dinner since they were invited to the Burrow. While there, Ginny pulled Harry aside and told him that she'd arranged for everyone to meet at seven on Saturday at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry said he'd go when she badgered him enough, but even up to Saturday afternoon, he just wasn't sure. It wasn't until after five that he finally committed to making an appearance.

Harry flooed in to Diagon Alley, and headed into the Leaky Cauldron. It was quieter than Harry expected. He couldn't see anyone that he would associate as being here with Ginny. He took a seat up at the bar, and accepted a pint of whatever was on tap before positioning himself to better see anyone else that arrived. They were all cutting it close, but Harry figured it possible that Ginny and all the girls she invited intended to arrive in a single pack.

Parkinson came in from the direction of Diagon Alley. She looked around like Harry had, equally confused that nobody else was there. Their gazes met, and Harry started to sweat a little when Parkinson came over. Her perfume smelled nice. It suited her sundress, off-white with little red flowers on it. They were the same colour as her lipstick.

"Ginny invited you too?" she asked.

"Er, yeah." Harry swallowed as Parkinson took the seat next to his. "We're the first ones."

"And here I thought I was running a little behind." Parkinson tucked her hair behind her ear. The odd strand deviated from the rest, victims of the mild humidity from a warm day.

"How's your summer gone?" Harry asked.

"Hardly noticed it, honestly," Parkinson said with a chuckle. "My parents and I used to travel for most of it. Of course, they're still going without me now, so I die of jealousy every time they come back from somewhere and want to show me all the pictures they took."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I know what that's like. I never got to go anywhere exotic, but I've seen a lot of pictures. Working too, it's hard to believe that any other year we'd be on the train again in a couple weeks."

"Some old faces have come in for new Hogwarts uniforms." Parkinson leaned her elbow on the bar, bracing her head with a couple curled fingers. "The Muggle-borns going for their first year are so cute. They haven't a clue, and whenever you use any kind of magic around them, they just light up."

Parkinson did the same in imitation, making Harry smile. "I can't say I was any different."

"Oh, you were raised by Muggles, weren't you?" As soon as Parkinson said that, her eyes widened a little and she blushed. "Ginny mentioned it. I'd never realized I had no idea where you went during summers, since you didn't stay at Hogwarts."

"It's not allowed," Harry said. "Yeah, I have some Muggle family. I didn't know anything about the wizarding world until a month before we started our first year. I think Dumbledore didn't want me to have a head so big I wouldn't fit through the front doors."

It was Parkinson's turn to laugh. She even had pretty teeth, something Harry wouldn't normally notice. A grin seemed to slide easily over them. "They didn't tell you anything? Not even that there was a wizarding world? What about when weird things happened around you? That never got explained?"

Harry shook his head. How utterly befuddled Parkinson looked amused him.

"I'm having a hard time imagining that." Parkinson was still trying, her eyes narrowed. "So, what did you do instead? Muggles put their young kids in school, don't they?"

"Yeah, but it's not boarding school." Harry bit his tongue against saying he was surprised the Dursleys never sent him away like that in the first place. "You go for the day, and then go home."

"Huh."

"You just learned to read and write and all that at home, hey?" Harry asked. He'd heard some horror stories from Mrs. Weasley about her efforts toward that.

"Mhm," Parkinson confirmed. "Of course, it was the most boring thing in the world when you know what's waiting for you after you turn eleven. I was always trying to get away with accidentally doing magic at home. My father had a friend of his that works in the Improper Use office scare me about it. Oh how I cried, 'I'm so sorry, I won't do it again, please don't arrest me and throw me in Azkaban'."

Since Harry had been to Azkaban, he wasn't sure he found making a kid think they might wind up there funny. He laughed anyway. Surely, at that age, Parkinson wouldn't have fully understood what prison was like. "Kind of like driving your kid to the police station because they refuse to put on their seatbelt."

"Their what?"

A little wrinkle came between Parkinson's eyebrows as Harry explained about the piece of fabric Muggle's wore to keep them from becoming a projectile in a car accident, and how Muggle parents would use law enforcement as a threat. It was common for Muggle parents to not move the vehicle until the kid buckled up, but if they really refused, the only place that vehicle was going was to the police station, and then they were really going to be in trouble.

"My aunt did it to my cousin once," Harry said after a beat of hesitation, for he didn't really want to talk about the Dursleys. "It was pretty funny."

Parkinson leaned on the bar again, holding her jaw. "He cried and put on a show, and all that?"

"Big time. It was a full-on theatric production."

Parkinson laughed. In the lull of their conversation, Harry glanced around the pub, then at his watch. He frowned.

"Hm," he said. "It's quarter-past. Where is everyone? Who all did Ginny tell you was coming?"

"Harper, Maya, Charlotte, Ruth. . ." Parkinson slowly trailed off as she too looked around. "Would Ginny really run late to her own party?"

Before Harry could answer to the negative because he knew Ginny to be punctual, colour rose up into Parkinson's cheeks. Her eyes widened.

"Oh my god, there is no party," Parkinson said in a small voice. "She set us up."

Parkinson's face turned beet red. Harry was still stuck on why Ginny would invite Seamus and Dean then, but of course that had probably just been a lie to ensure Harry came. He wouldn't have, if he thought he would just be hanging out with a bunch of girls he didn't know. He would've told Ginny a flat-out no if she suggested she arrange for Harry and Parkinson to meet up and see what happened.

"I am so sorry." Parkinson looked on the verge of tears, her voice trembling. "I can't believe—oh my god, this is so embarrassing. If you'll excuse me, I need to go find Ginny and kill her."

"Hold on a second," Harry said as Parkinson pulled out a little coin purse intent to pay for the beer she'd barely touched. When she slowed, her gaze hardly able to return to his, Harry's heart picked up again with momentary anxiety. "I mean, we're already here."

Parkinson's shoulders stiffened, and she narrowed her eyes. "Did you ask her to do this?"

"What? No," Harry quickly answered. "I knew you were going to be here, but I figured I'd just be having a pint with Seamus and Dean. I didn't expect this at all."

Harry couldn't tell if that was a good answer or not, regardless that it was the truth. He wondered if Ginny ever considered the possibility this might backfire. Parkinson clearly did not take to being tricked, and Harry wasn't sure he liked it either. He at least had the luxury of knowing Parkinson fancied him. Parkinson had no idea that Harry was curious about her, in turn.

"Well, I'm sorry that wasn't the case," Parkinson stiffly replied, back to digging. "I can't believe she did this to me. How utterly humiliating. Some friend she turned out to be."

Harry chewed on his bottom lip. He didn't want to be responsible for the blowout that might be coming Ginny's way, even if she'd risked it. Ginny knew Harry was too shy—that's why she'd done this in the first place to get them in the same room. If Harry didn't do or say anything now, he most likely wouldn't get another chance at Parkinson. Was he truly okay with that, for their tentative chemistry to be stomped out? Up until now, when they realized the reality of their evening, things had been going well.

"Look," Harry quickly said before Parkinson could walk away in more ways than one. "I know why Ginny did it. I've been thinking about you a bit, and she knew I wouldn't ever do something on my own. Doesn't help we don't cross paths much nowadays, so it's not like anything could happen without one of us going out of our way. She wanted to spare us both the effort, I think."

Putting himself out there like that was hard. Even if Parkinson did fancy Harry, he could see a real chance she didn't stick around anyway. She was still debating it—debating him—although it was at least encouraging that she no longer frantically searched for a sickle.

"I don't know." Parkinson was still stiff. "Ginny should know better. She knows I have a lot of trust issues."

"Me too. Happens after someone's tried to do you in enough times."

Parkinson hid a snort behind her hand. It almost looked like a little sneeze. "Sorry, that's not funny."

"Just saying." Harry shrugged, managing a tight smile. "I get it, is all."

She toyed with the skirt of her dress, considering Harry. "You really want me to stay, or are you just saying that to save me face?"

"I want you to stay," Harry said.

Parkinson let out a long exhale. "All right. Er—let's try this again, shall we?"

It didn't really feel too different to Harry. He smiled regardless, trying to lower Parkinson's raised defences. "For the record, I don't like what Ginny did either, but I'll admit I didn't want to appear out of nowhere while you were working and maybe come off like a weirdo. Especially since that's the only place outside school we've really talked."

"Right." Parkinson's hand trembled a little as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "It's different, isn't it? Well, even last year was. I didn't expect to spend nearly the entire thing cozied up with Gryffindors."

"I didn't really expect to get on all right with Slytherins, either."

"Do you mean Draco?" Parkinson asked. "I saw you talking a couple times."

"Eh. . ." Harry's uncertainty was more for talking about Parkinson's ex to her. "I guess. I don't mean to make it sound political, but it's more about alliance than being mates or anything. Although, to be honest, I don't know how much I should say about the whole thing."

"That's okay, I don't mean to pry." Parkinson reached for her beer. "I know there isn't much trust for Slytherins. There are still some students with Death Eaters in their family."

"It probably doesn't hurt to say we kept an eye on those ones all year, and they seem in the clear," Harry replied. "They all got done a little dirty, you could say."

"Yeah." Parkinson pressed her lips briefly. "Sorry, you probably can't say, but you don't know anything about Narcissa Malfoy, do you? I always really liked her, and it disturbed me she came up missing like that."

"Erm. . ." Harry understood completely what Hermione meant now that ideally, for the sake of being open, he go with an Order member. "Listen, er. . .not that you probably don't know this, but I kinda have to put out a disclaimer. If you know things that Voldemort might be interested in, it could put you in danger. Just being around me could. There could be someone sitting in here right now that works for Voldemort, and is keeping an eye out. If he has spies in the Ministry, he has them in places like Diagon Alley too."

"Yeah, I know." Parkinson shrugged. "I wouldn't be sitting here if I cared. If You-Know-Who has people in Diagon Alley, then I'm sure you do too, don't you? Like the Weasleys?"

"Still—"

"Don't infantilize me, Potter," Parkinson snipped. "I'm quite capable of making that sort of decision for myself. I took the same Defence and Charms classes as you, and I got Os in both. I can stand up for myself."

"Okay," was all Harry could say. "I just thought it worth saying, is all."

"As if I had no idea before I sat down here." Although Parkinson's tone remained sharp, she was smiling again. "I'm sorry, you're Harry who? I didn't catch the surname."

Harry laughed. "All right."

"That's very noble of you, regardless," Parkinson said. "I shouldn't expect less from a Gryffindor."

With all of that out in the open, Harry relaxed as their conversation steered back to less tenuous subjects. He really underestimated how much he would like to listen to somebody that hadn't much to do with that part of his life. Maybe too because nerves still lingered for Parkinson, she was more than happy to tell Harry about the various places she had travelled in her life.

She eventually petered out, smiling anew in apology and slightly breathless. "Sorry, I don't mean to go on. It's not really a fair conversation topic when you've said you didn't get to travel much."

"The more reason to hear about it, really." Even if Harry had nothing to contribute, he still appreciated the chance to look at Parkinson for long lengths of time without it being weird. "I went to Paris last month. Granted, only for a couple hours and I was inside the Ministry the whole time, but I still got to go there."

"Paris is. . ." Parkinson laughed with a strained airiness. "It's honestly quite dirty. I think it sees too much traffic because everyone expects it to be this big romantic city."

"My aunt said that once about it," Harry recalled. "She was watching a television programme about how some Japanese people idealize Paris so much that they get really upset when they actually go there, and it isn't at all what they expect."

"I can believe that," Parkinson replied. "What's a television programme?"

A look of wonder returned to her face as Harry explained the concept of a television. Parkinson was familiar with theatre since her parents had a strong affinity for things like plays, ballet, and opera, so it wasn't too much a stretch of her imagination to put all of that into a box and make it fit for leisurely consumption.

Parkinson leaned on the bar again. "The Muggles get on quite all right without magic, don't they? How does something like that work?"

"Well, kind of like the radio," Harry said. "I don't really know much about how electricity works, to be honest with you. It's not something you learn in Muggle school as a little kid, just that it was a really important discovery and all that."

"It just beams into their homes then, or what?"

"There are wires in the ground that carry it around."

"Oh, really!"

Harry was so used to talking to people lately with some kind of purpose that he jolted upright a couple times with the sense he'd forgotten to ask something. Although his conversation with Parkinson had touched a few times on life on Voldemort's radar, Harry felt that he was just some regular bloke sitting at a bar with a girl.

Because of that, it was really hard to let the night end. Nine o'clock passed Harry by like nothing. He paid more attention to if Parkinson was growing tired as the evening wore on. It made Harry feel a weird sort of pride that yes, she was, but she was doing her best to hide it. Coming up on ten o'clock, a new lull fell between them. Because it was a comfortable one, Harry regretted what he had to say next. It was inevitable, no matter how much they'd ended up enjoying themselves.

"The time kinda got away from us, didn't it?" Harry asked.

"A little." Parkinson shrugged. She only had about one more swallow left to her drink. Harry had had to pee for a while, but he hadn't dared step away in case doing so somehow compromised the magic of the situation. "I'll probably still kill Ginny next time I see her, but this ended up much better than the night I expected to have."

"Definitely," Harry agreed. "We could always do it again."

He grew nervous regardless that they agreed on the evening's quality. The warm smile that came over Parkinson was amplified by fresh colour in her cheeks. That same warmth budded again in Harry's stomach to be looked at like that by someone who had taken the time to get to know him beyond his name.

"I'd like that," Parkinson said.

"I could send you an owl about it then, or. . .?"

"I don't think there'd be a problem either with popping in at Madam Malkin's, if you happen to be in the neighbourhood," she replied. "You were concerned about that?"

"Well, now that we've seen each other somewhere other than there, I wouldn't be so worried to." Harry chuckled. "It was more I didn't want to be like hey, remember when you were nice to me while you were just doing your job? Well, here I am having misinterpreted that to see about it."

"There wasn't a whole lot to misinterpret on my part, honestly," Parkinson said with a half-shrug. "I get that, though. It could've been really awkward."

"I did kind of know. . ." Even though Parkinson had basically just said it, Harry still grew a little nervous to bring it up himself. "I mean, when we were still at Hogwarts, I wondered."

"I figured you were too preoccupied to notice something like that."

"I was definitely focused on getting through exams," Harry confirmed. "Things changed when summer started, though. With Voldemort off in hiding again, it's hard not to think maybe I don't have to hide away either. I didn't really start thinking about it until after that day in the shop, just to be totally honest."

Parkinson grinned. "It was fun watching you try to play it cool."

"I thought I did all right."

"Not by a long shot."

It was getting harder to fully end the evening as their conversation turned flirtatious. The bartender ended up being the linchpin in it all when he came by and asked if they wanted another top-up. They both hesitantly declined, and with it reached for their money.

"Don't worry about it," Harry told Parkinson. "I got it."

"Oh—thanks."

Harry couldn't remember what exact number the bartender gave them thanks to his mind being elsewhere, but he was present enough to know a galleon covered their drinks with a decent tip left over. He and Parkinson migrated toward the back of the pub. As Harry walked beside her, he realized just how small she was. He had nearly a head on her in height, even at five-seven. He'd passively noticed when they sat together at the bar that Parkinson's wrists were so small Harry could probably put his thumb and forefinger around one.

"I was just going to apparate home," Parkinson said when they stopped. "As unexpected as it was. . .I had a good time."

"Me too," Harry replied. "See you later."

"Mhm."

Parkinson smiled one more time before she vanished in front of Harry with a small pop. The image of her lingered in Harry's vision as he followed suit, concentrating on the parlour at Grimmauld Place. He was stuck between disappointment, since it was over, and elation that it had happened at all. Harry was already anxious about his next move toward it. He had no choice now but to be proactive. That it didn't terrify him was a new concept.

Light spilled out from underneath Ron's door on the second floor. Harry turned at the landing to carry on, but slowed when a dull thump preceded rustling. Ron's door opened and he leaned out.

"I'm home," Harry said needlessly.

"I see that." Arms folded, Ron broke into a wide grin that reminded Harry how much time he spent with Fred and George nowadays. "How was the date?"

"Date?" Harry turned more to face him on the landing. "You were in on it?"

"Ginny wanted me to make sure you went." Ron shrugged. "So, then?"

Harry didn't have it in him to be mad. That didn't mean he cared to be forthcoming. He let out a huff of breath and carried on up to his room with a shake of his head. Even if Harry couldn't see it, he could sense Ron's smug satisfaction following him to the next floor.