The establishment along one of Diagon's side streets was relatively new, post-war. The front was decorated with embossed wood and flowing iron letters spelling its name, 'Pleiades Kitchen'. Although it looked much fancier than the name 'kitchen' implied. Red drapes hung from the windows and as soon as Harry got inside, a wizard in dress robes and a bow-tie greeted him.
"Mr. Potter, welcome to Pleiades Kitchen. Mr. Macmillan is here already."
The man guided him to a corner table, where Ernie was already sitting with a glass of wine. Harry handed his coat to the server and shook Ernie's hand.
"I'm glad you accepted my invitation, Harry."
"Of course. Always interested in living it up. I didn't even know about the place, and I've been around."
Ernie nodded. "They renovated and changed their menu recently, I'm sure you'll like it. I recommend the Bordeaux to start."
"Sounds good."
Ernie raised his hand and motioned for a glass of wine. These kinds of outings had become a little less common in recent times. They'd brought Neville on occasion and Justin before he moved, but this time Ernie had insisted on them going by themselves. Harry figured it was a way to talk and also thanks for asking him to be groomsman at their wedding. Either way, Harry couldn't complain. He had missed what Ernie's finer tastes came up with.
"You know," Harry said, "we must've visited half the magical restaurants in the London area with Ginny in the early years. Used to be we barely ate in."
"It was a bit crazy back then," Ernie laughed. "Everyone figuring out what they were going to do, well except you had it all figured out."
"I wouldn't say that, it just would have been strange to switch careers after hunting dark wizards for seven years."
Ernie laughed heartily at Harry's joke.
"What've you been up to lately?" Harry asked.
"Back from our study group in Denmark. Alas, we didn't make much progress on the formula."
"Skin balm, is it?"
"To handle dry skin, yes. I won't bore you with the details."
Harry shrugged and looked towards the counter. All the servers were well dressed and the witches who did service were on the upper end of pretty, with skirts that ended just above the knee.
"If you like the view, wait until you have the food," Ernie said.
"Yeah, it is a nice place."
Before they could get much conversation in, a young witch came over with two plates filled with appetisers. Two were something briny in glass bowls and the others something meaty on toasted bread.
The witch stood with a smile and explained the dish. "Twilight clams with lemon and parsley, and Raiju pâté."
"They didn't change the menu for me, did they?" Harry asked, eyeing the Raiju.
"I'm sure they were inspired," the woman said with a laugh. "Enjoy."
The meaty flavour was accompanied by a jolt of electricity and pepper, ending in a metallic taste. "Amazing."
"Isn't it?" Ernie said. "All thanks to you and Hermione as well."
"You mean the trade restrictions?" Harry asked.
"Quite so, there's been a boom ever since the law got passed. New food, new products, new opportunities."
"I think it was worth it just for the food."
"I have to congratulate you again," Ernie said, downing a clam. "On the wedding I mean."
"Thanks. To be honest it seems like less of a big deal than it should be. I don't know."
"Maybe because it's the second time."
"Maybe," Harry chuckled. "I don't think so, though."
"If you don't mind me saying, it did surprise me."
"The wedding?"
"You two, getting together. No offence."
"None taken."
Harry thoughtfully looked into his glass of wine before continuing, enjoying the nutty flavour of the clams. "We've had all kinds of reactions. Hagrid told us 'finally', and I'll take his opinion over anyone else's… no offence."
"None taken," Ernie said with a laugh. "I just thought you would date that pretty blonde partner of yours. You two have been together since…"
"Well, we weren't officially partners until we introduced the partner system in '99, but coming on five years now."
"I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable asking," Ernie said putting up his hands.
"It's fine. We got a lot of looks when we started, and that was when I was with Ginny."
"So… she wasn't your type?"
"Don't think I have a type," Harry said with a smile. "All right, groomsman, you want my explanation?"
"I'm just curious," Ernie answered with a mischievous smirk.
"Well, I was a lot more awkward when we met, and restless. I was just starting to date Ginny and… she came out of a relationship herself. All I can say is it didn't end well. I don't think she has been looking since then."
"She was in Azkaban, wasn't she?"
Harry nodded. "That leaves some scars. But when I joined the AD and she rejoined it, we kind of both focused on that. I mean, bloody hell, you know what those first years were like."
"Less than you, but I heard."
"This was before me and Ginny got the apartment. We rented a house with a floo connection outside the city. Four, sometimes five of us eating junk food and sleeping on couches. Being called in at ungodly hours because there was some possible sighting of some Death Eater or dark creature. Mathilda was there for all of that. So I get your question."
"She seems like a nice person, but she's always a bit…" Ernie furrowed his brow, looking for a word or wondering if it was okay to speak out.
"Closed off?"
"I guess that's right. Closed off."
"She has her reasons, but she's getting over things. Wait, you don't have a thing for her, do you? Is that why you asked? I'd give up if I were you. I know for a fact she doesn't go for blondes."
"I probably deserve that," Ernie answered. "I won't pry any further."
"I don't mind. Hey, we've come a long way, haven't we?"
Ernie nodded solemnly and looked up towards the counter. "Ah! Here comes the main course."
The same woman served them the dish, two large grilled pieces of meat with potatoes. Ernie put up his hand. "I'd like to see if Mr. Potter can figure out what this is on his own. Let's not ruin the surprise."
The woman nodded and left.
"Looks good," Harry said. "Now you have me curious."
Harry took the sharp knife and sliced through a corner piece. Rich juice flowed out of the meat, revealing a bright red steaming core. Cooked to perfection. The aroma made his mouth water, a smell like a scorching bonfire. As soon as the piece hit his tongue, a spicy warmth spread through his mouth, complemented by complex, flavoury fat permeating it. It was soft and strong. It was the best thing he'd ever tasted.
"Ernie, this is bloody incredible. I might cry."
"Can you guess?"
Harry shook his head, in disbelief. "I can taste thyme, a little white pepper, but this meat, I couldn't tell you."
"This," Ernie said, holding up a delicious piece of his own, "is whelp, dragonwhelp."
"Amazing. Argentinian?"
"Best dragon farmers in the world, yes. Now that the laws allow, Britain might see its own dragon farming, or within the territories at least."
"One can dream."
They ate in silence for a while. The food was just too good to waste with conversation. The potatoes too were roasted over a wood fire, and the fragrant salad accompanying it brought a fresh and welcome intermission. He had to take Hermione here some time, and he wondered if the restaurant had any waiting lists. If not now, it would when the word got out.
The waitress brought more wine and Harry settled with a glass, happy and sated. "So tell me, Ern. How about you? Any special woman in your life?"
"There was this girl in Denmark, but it didn't quite end as I'd hoped."
"Do you want a plus one? I could set you up," Harry said with a raised eyebrow.
"You don't have to take the trouble."
"Dennis is coming with the youngest Greengrass sister, and Daphne will be there too, so you could take her."
"You think she'd like that?"
"You'll have fun. She can be a bit rough around the edges, but as long as you're a gentleman you'll have a grand time."
"I'll trust you then."
"Be nice. She's going to head our new charity with her sister."
"I heard something like that. It has been a busy year for you."
Harry rubbed his face with a sigh. "It certainly bloody has, and it's going to be still busy for a while, but I'm thinking of taking things slower in September. McGonagall wants me to guest lecture again."
"Oh, that's wonderful! You were hugely popular last time, was that three years ago now?"
"Yeah. It is fun, teaching. Just not something I could do full time."
"Too boring?"
"I guess," Harry smiled. "I'd need to take up monster hunting as a hobby or something."
"Hermione seemed to be doing well, dealing with your busy lives."
Harry laughed. "Yeah, pretty much nothing fazes her. She has nerves of steel."
"Is that why you're marrying her? Her nerves?"
"Her breasts, if you must know."
"But as groomsman, I must say you look well together, happy. In love."
Harry nodded in a way that made his infatuation obvious. He took a deep breath, thinking how long the road had been that brought them here. Marriage. It didn't really encompass what he was hoping they would be together. He didn't want to lose it, even if they lost it together. "She's just been there for as long as I care to remember. What are the chances you find someone like that?"
Ernie smiled and lifted his glass. "Cheers to that."
The dessert was a pastry with cracked chocolate covering it like the surface of a scorched river. Cocoa laid over it like dust and between the layers, a cream filled sponge cake. It was surprisingly light and delicate, a perfect way to end a perfect meal.
"So were you in a hurry with the date?" Ernie asked.
"What do you mean?"
"With everyone having their eyes on the match of the season you might not even make first page!"
"Well bloody good!" Harry said, feeling the wine mellow his senses. "Us not being in the papers will make it that more special."
"They might blame you if the Harpies lose, then you'll make first page."
Harry snorted. "The Harpies won't lose. Going to attend the match?"
"Will you?"
"I wouldn't miss it. Hell, Hermione's coming too. Everyone is going."
"I guess I don't have a choice then."
"If things go well at the wedding, you could take Daphne. I don't think she's ever been to a Quidditch game."
"Well I'm there to take care of you both first, me second."
Harry laughed, seeing the worry in Ernie's eyes. "You're just scared she won't like you."
Ernie leaned back and brushed his hair out of his face. "Of course I'm worried. She's bloody good looking."
#
Ronald Weasley always got a worried look when reading his letters from home. He was also very secretive about it, no matter how much she tried to glean what was going on, and being the paranoid ass he was, he vanished his letters after reading them. She watched in frustration as he did the same for this one. But she wouldn't give up this easily.
"Is there something wrong?" she said in a small voice.
"I — uh, no. It's nothing." He hesitated for a second, looking away. "A friend of mine got married."
She tried hard not to break the pencil she was holding to mark her notes. This assignment was turning out to be infuriating beyond her patience. Always with his petty, insignificant lies. The nonexistent self-worth and that lame dead-eyed look. It was driving her mad. When this was all done she would tell him exactly what she thought of his pathetic self.
"Ron…" she pushed. "You know you can talk to me, right?"
"Yeah, of course," he said, trying to put on a smile. "Like I said, it's nothing. Just someone I hadn't heard from in a while."
She hated to do this, but she would have to put on the teary act. "It just feels like you're shutting me out sometimes. I — I thought we trusted each other."
He came to put an arm around her and she turned away. Unfortunately sex was pointless in getting him to talk, he would fall asleep like a log after.
"Lisa, I promise it's nothing. Like I said, just an old friend I got news about."
She let out a sad sigh and dried her crocodile tears. "You never tell me anything. What am I supposed to think?"
"I just… I promise I'll tell you everything some day, it's just not easy for me to talk about."
Some day. Some day might as well be never with how he wormed his way around the truth. She was about to rebut him when there came a knock at the door. "Come in," she said.
Kelly looked in, her eyes darting from Ron to her. "Uh. Lis', you got a message from the Archive, something about a fire in the renovation department."
Code. Something was going on, and it was urgent. She got up instantly. "I have to go. Sorry, we'll talk later." Maybe this was her way out of this assignment. She just hoped it wasn't going to end her career as well. She went straight for the closet at the end of the hallway, taking some time to concentrate on the Archive entry point. She spun on her heel, ending up in a mostly empty room. An ink well shook on a shelf at her arrival and she stared at it, regaining her senses. She didn't like the feeling of apparition at all.
Out of the room, she continued down the hall in a hurry and passed her office, opening the door to the room two doors down. She closed it behind her and took out her wand, slotting it into a notch in the rightmost bookcase and stepped back. It swung open, revealing a corridor illuminated by neon lights.
Her shoes echoed in the hallway, a click-click muted by the humming of the tubes. She took a breath and opened the heavy steel door, turning towards the HQ main reception area. Mark was there, drumming his fingers on the central desk. He turned with a frown and nodded at her. She stepped over to him and nodded back.
"Seen the Chief yet?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"You're worried?" she continued.
He took a deep breath and stopped the drumming of his fingers. "We were supposed to come back with something. We didn't, and now we're being called in. You think this can be good news?"
Carlize looked away and cringed. There were no two ways about it, no matter what happened he would be in a foul mood for some time. Depending on if the assignment continued it might be hell for a while. The good with the bad, that was the promise, wasn't it?
There was a click of a door and Chief O'Brien stepped out talking with none other than Senator Ripley. She tensed up. One of the big wigs making the trip to Section 8 was cause for some alarm. The two men shook hands, O'Brien taking a puff from his cigar and watching the Senator leave. He turned to them and waved them over, stepping back in.
Side by side, they entered the Chief's office, standing at attention before his large oak desk. O'Brien narrowed his eyes at them and put out his cigar in a silver tray. "Well, I suppose it's no use keepin' you on hot coals in a manner of speakin'. The Congress has talked with our department and asked us to move things along more quickly. The situation being as it is, we had to call in some… outside hire if you will."
Chief O'Brien might be a tool but he had a way of making you feel small. He waited to see their reaction, peering at them with his steel-grey eyes. It was Mark who broke first.
"Are we pulling the op, Chief?"
O'Brien smiled. "Now let's not put the broom ahead of the whip now. What me and Senator Ripley were talkin' about had nothing to do with putting you out of a job. Matter of fact, we were discussing how we'd like to move things along. How 'bout you let me bring you up to speed? You both done work with one Jim Garell at some point I believe?"
"Yes, sir," they both sounded in unison.
He went down in his leather chair and waved in front of him. "Take a seat."
They sat down in front of him and O'Brien lit another cigar, scratching the scar along his neck. "Around the end of the year we lost contact with Agent Garell. He was undercover in the UK, London infiltrating the black market. Things were going along well, he'd ingratiated himself with someone with… higher connections involved in a blackmailing scheme. There were signs of government involvement.
"As I said, we lost contact with him some time ago. Since he was our most promising asset, we were wondering what happened. Two weeks ago we got contacted by a long lost group of individuals. You were trying to follow in their footsteps for your previous assignment, Agent Berkley?"
Carlize's nails dug into the leather of the arm rests as a ripple of fear ran up her spine. "Sir, are you talking about Hit-Squad Wallaby?"
"Just so," O'Brien said. "They're not back, mind you. Just came in to tell us the bad news. Jim Garell is dead, was killed around Christmas Eve. God rest his soul, but this came as one mighty coincidence. One we suspected of foul play in the British Wizengamot ended up dead himself around the same time. I don't need to tell you what kind of stink hangs around the Boy Wonder that's the target of our here investigation."
"Potter is involved?" Mark asked.
"Like I said, a stink hangs around that man and his dealings. But we're short on evidence."
"I can do it, sir. I'm close to breaking Weasley, I just need more time to —"
O'Brien slammed open a drawer. "Time for waiting is over. R&D came back with a solution for breaking open Weasley's noggin'." He placed a vial of something on his desk, something colourless and hazy. "Feed this here potion to Mr. Ronald Weasley and he'll be primed for enhanced interrogation. If you ain't confident in your interrogation abilities, I can call in someone else."
"I can do it, sir," she answered quickly. "I'll get everything out of him we need."
"Good."
"And the assignment, sir?" Mark asked.
"Depends on what we get from it, dun it?"
The Chief dismissed them when he was content they would do their jobs. Carlize bit her nails as they wandered through the main hall of the UAID. Jim was dead and Wallaby had returned after almost a decade. She'd heard the horror stories. Working with Wallaby, you'd be just as likely to be caught in the crossfire as the enemy. The ICW had put their foot down back then, and they hadn't been too happy about it. They disappeared. So why now?
"We're getting fucked from both holes," Mark said, lighting a cigarette.
She held out her hand to bum one and lit it with her wand. "It's fine, it's not going to stop here, and with Jim dead who else is going to take the lead?"
He scoffed. "The AD knuckle-draggers, or Wallaby. The fuck did they have to come back now?"
"Chief's got too much invested. You know he's a cutthroat, he'll have his hand in what happens so we just need to stick around."
"Are you sure you can do it, bag the info from Weasley? You were always shit at interrogation."
She rubbed her tired eyes. "Yes. I can do it."
#
The wedding was a warm thing. All their true friends were there whether they had a beef with their political endeavours or not. They had chosen the chapel at Godric's Hollow, for so many reasons. She had to bat away many nervous friends bubbling with excitement, and having chosen Mathilda as a bridesmaid, she took care of much of that for her.
The six foot Auror looked vaguely intimidating in her pale blue dress, her legs jutting from the hem like smooth marble columns. Hermione had come to think of her as a guardian angel of sorts since their Christmas heart to heart. And a friend, which was a strange thing to think especially with how changed they'd been a year ago. Back then it seemed like Harry was the only tangible thing in the whole world. Things were finally starting to settle. It felt like a calm after the great storm that had been their assault on Azkaban Prison.
Ginny came to visit her too before the ceremony, and they exchanged a few superficial words, and a few deeper ones. She seemed to have calmed down significantly, or 'settled in her role' as she would say. Hermione's mum seemed to be caught up in the good mood as well. She was glad she still had her parents with her, even if they could never truly understand.
But what she remembered the most was Minerva McGonagall, dressed up in a flowery hat, hesitantly smiling at her. When they'd told her of their engagement during their visit to Hogwarts, she had been more surprised than anticipated. She asked how it happened, but didn't seem to think it would last at the time. As she'd always admired her Head of House, this was a sore point for Hermione.
"Is this truly what will make you happy?" she asked as they waited in a side-room of the chapel.
"I already am happy," she had answered, "and this wedding is to show that to everyone else."
The Headmistress had then pulled her into a hug and wished her the best. It was very emotional. Walking up to the isle, she saw Hagrid beside Harry, his face covered in a torrent of tears. Harry looked breathtaking, his deep scintillating green eyes captivating her from across the room. He looked so relaxed and sure of himself, his suit tight around the back and rogueishly loose around the sleeves.
She barely heard a word of what the pastor said, instead imagining what she would do to him later. They kissed publicly, for many for the first time, in front of their friends. Later on, she'd laugh at Mathilda recounting the looks of shock on some of their faces.
Ernie was a good choice for a groomsman. He didn't stand out and had the quickness of wit to be able to converse about something with anyone. Daphne seemed to be enjoying her date well enough, even if it wasn't a dazzling love affair. Dennis came over with Astoria and she seemed to be smitten with the young healer. Harry took a little too much pleasure in rubbing in the fact that Hermione was now truly out of reach, and took any opportunity to compliment the couple on how good of a match they made.
Ginny left early, on a tight schedule for her big game, and they ended the evening with a few rounds of drinks sitting with Alfred and Mathilda. They had a few days off, which pretty much blurred into one long wedding night. She wasn't sure if she could ever put into words what had happened in that span of time. By the time the stamina potions wore off she felt like she'd been run over by a truck.
But all good things must come to an end and they had jobs to go back to. By Wednesday, she was back into the office, clearing warrants for the ongoing Azkaban investigation. It was near noon when a counsellor from another office came in out of breath and looking rattled. Bertrand, she remembered.
"Mrs. Potter," he said, "I thought you should know that your husband's partner at the Auror Department has just been arrested."
