Disclaimer... *Takes a big deep breath* Anything Harry Potter related is JKR's, anything Black Books related is Dylan Moran's and the Linenverse is from the talented brain of Ballyharnon. Phew. I own nothing but the plot. And Marcus. But would anyone really want to steal him anyway? Doubtful.
Dedication... Again to Bally, for loving the trousers as much as I do, and for marrying me so early in the morning. Sorry to keep you from sleep, pet. ;)
~ Chapter 2 ~
I walked along the street, knowing I had plenty of time before my interview. I loved London when there were lots of people out and about like this. It always seemed so friendly and, the major plus point, there always seemed to be an abundance of beautiful men around.
As I walked along I caught the eye of a man dressed in blue jeans and a tight white T-shirt. We held eye contact for a few moments until we had passed each other. After a second I glanced back over my shoulder to see him looking back at me. We smiled at each other for a moment before continuing on. I loved this fleeting on-the-street flirting.
I glanced at the time, seeing it was only 15 minutes until I had to meet my interviewer in the Leaky Cauldron. I began to walk there in earnest. As I did I noticed a man with short dark hair, black overdye jeans and a purple shirt. Aside from his obvious good taste in clothes he was stunning. A slight smile crept across my face as our eyes met. The smile was mirrored on his face. He had a heart-shaped face, sweet curving lips and green eyes. Again I glanced back after we had passed, but this time he had stopped and had turned completely. I stopped. We grinned at each other. I could feel an excitement building. There was undeniable chemistry. I walked closer and offered to shake hands.
"Hi, I'm Bill."
His handshake was firm, a good sign. "I'm Ishmael." He was smiling broadly, a faint blush brightening his cheeks. It gave a fantastic effect. I had a powerful urge to find out just how much I could make him blush and know if it coloured his whole body.
We talked briefly, both skirting the reason we had stopped. I was anxious to check the time but I knew the gesture would be misinterpreted. I could only have about five minutes left to get to the wizard pub. I interrupted Ishmael.
"I'm sorry, I actually have an interview in a few minutes, but can I meet you for a drink later?" It was unusual for me to make any first moves, but my haste made it necessary and it felt right to take the initiative, to be confidant. I was rewarded by a greater smile.
"That would be great!" He enthused. "How about seven in The Vent?" I knew that The Vent was a gay bar, a very nice one, quite nearby. Seven would give me plenty of time to complete the interview so I readily agreed before saying a rapid goodbye.
I jogged towards the Leaky Cauldron, knowing it was too busy for me to apparate. I pushed through the door just under ten minutes late. The pub was virtually empty except for Tom behind the bar so I immediately spotted the woman who was to interview me, Miss Sheliac. She was dressed in formal robes, dark brown hair pulled back severely from her round face. There were parchments laid out neatly on the table and the look on her face could have rivalled Snape's best. I grinned to myself. Here I was, dressed in muggle jeans and a woollen jumper a size too big - one of the natty dark blue ones my Mum always made every Christmas – and late. I rolled my eyes and approached her, preparing to charm.
"Miss Sheliac!" I loaded my voice with joy at the meeting. Anyone overhearing my tone would think I was saying something along the lines of 'wow! I've won the lottery!' I could see the effect on the woman's face. I may have only been attracted to men, but that did not mean I did not know how to charm a lady. In fact, being gay simply made it easier.
She took my offered hand and I shook it warmly. "I'm so sorry I'm late. I was in muggle London and you know what muggles can be like, bless 'em."
It was a calculated ploy. If she was a muggle-lover, like me, she would see me as being amused and tolerant of them, but if she disliked muggles I would appeared annoyed and condescending. I hoped she was the former.
"They can be all of a dither can't they!" She chuckled. I warmed to her.
"I promise being late is not a normal state of affairs for me." I continued, dropping my bag in what I hoped was an adventurer-type manner. "Can I get you a drink as an apology for making you wait?" Miss Sheliac seemed flustered at my attentions and nodded, blushing slightly. I nipped to the bar and bought a butterbeer for myself and a sherry. Tom tipped me a wink and I grinned back. I carried the drinks over and placed them down with a slight flourish. I considered turning my chair around and sitting on it backwards, but that would be pushing it.
"I hope sherry is ok?" I asked. She nodded again, taking a small sip. I smiled to myself. In two minutes I had gone from being late and looking inadequate, to having complete control over the situation. Even if I did not get the recommendation I would be pleased at that turnaround.
The interview began as most do. Questions about my background, my schooling, how I became head boy...all the standard ones. Then we came to the more complex.
"So why are you right for this job Mr. Weasley?" I paused, stroking my semi-goatee as though in deep thought. I knew it would look better if I appeared to be taking the question seriously. I always had an urge to say 'I have no idea why I'm right. In fact I'm probably wrong. I just like the sound of the money...how much is it again?'
"Well, I've always been interested in doing a job that will challenge and excite me." I paused again and leaned forward, looking at her intently. "Can I be honest with you Miss Sheliac?" She flushed again under my earnest gaze and nodded. "I love Egypt, and I always have. I have books, gifts, nic-nacs, you name it. To me, treasure-hunting there for Gringotts sounds like the most exciting and wonderful job to me. In fact I would probably pay you to let me do it!" Miss Sheliac seemed enthralled by my apparent confession so I went on, laying it on thick. "I love the open landscape, using my hands, getting to know the locals. I have that kind of adventurer personality." I permitted a small sigh as I sat back in my chair. "It's my dream job."
The small woman had a light in her eyes, lips slightly parted. I knew I had passed this interview and that if she could this woman would happily take me upstairs into one of the rooms and have her way with me. I grinned in spite of myself.
Miss Sheliac looked back down at the quill taking notes on some parchment. "Um...there are a few more questions Mr. Weasley..."
I interrupted her again. "Please, call me Bill."
"Um...Bill." She picked up the quill to stop it writing. "But I don't think they will be necessary. You are quite clearly perfect for this job and so i will be recommending that you are taken to the next level."
I smiled and looked surprised, thanking her profusely. I kissed her cheek as we said goodbye. She was leaving to conduct another interview in the Three Broomsticks and still had to floo there. I grinned as she flushed and waved from the grate.
I walked over to the bar, planning to get another beer and sit until I had to meet Ishmael. As I approached a laughing voice drifted from the corner of the apparently empty pub.
"That was impressive! From bad boy to star in about six seconds. She'll be dreaming about you tonight."
I looked around to see my brother Charlie grinning at me, pint in hand. "What the fuck are you doing here?" I exclaimed. His grin grew wider.
"I thought I'd come and see how you did in the interview." I wondered how he knew; I had told no one about my applying for this job. As though he had read my mind he held up the parchment from my room with the details on. I must have left it lying on my bed.
"Well you can buy me a drink for the privilege of listening then." I told him, grinning back. Charlie was basically my best friend. He was funny and possessed a very easy-going nature that matched my own. His first reaction to my coming out had been 'Oh cool! Can I come to some gay bars with you?'. I think it put the fear of God into my mother that she might never get any grandchildren from any of us. As if all of us would turn out to be gay. What would be the odds? She had nothing to worry about though. Charlie was as straight as an arrow, though he often joined me lately at gay bars and wished he were gay. 'Men are easier to pull than women' he confessed, and it seemed true for him. He enjoyed all the flirting and attention he received at gay bars, though he never followed through on any of it.
When I had realised my sexuality most of my friends had been great about it. There were a couple who had been awkward with me, but I still maintained a large group of friends from school. However, Charlie was my brother, giving us a bond that no one else could match.
Tom placed two cool butterbeers down on the bar and smiled at us absently while Charlie paid. We then carried them over to one of the many empty tables.
"So," Charlie began, "applying for a 'proper' job?" I nodded as I swallowed the first quarter of my beer in one go. Charming was thirsty work. "Mum would be so proud."
I grinned at him happily. "She would wouldn't she!" I paused. "So don't tell her ok?"
Charlie smiled. "No chance! If I did I'd miss hearing her shout at you every morning for wasting your education." We both loved our mother dearly, but took perverse delight in trying to make her a little less stressed out and a little more open-minded. That way Ron and Ginny might not have to endure the lectures we received from her.
We sat and happily chatted for a while. I filled him in on the details of the job and also on my split from Marcus, something I had not confessed to anyone at home despite it having been three weeks since it had happened.
I quizzed him on his love life, but he claimed there was nothing interesting. He was still sleeping regularly with his friend Antha, but neither of them were willing to commit to anything more. He did tell me about a job he was thinking about trying for in Romania with dragons. He was sure it would not be possible for him to get it, but was going to try anyway. I wished him good luck and promised in return that our mother would be kept in the dark.
After a while Charlie got to his feet and stretched. "I have to head off I'm afraid. I said I'd meet Anth for a coffee." I grinned, knowing pretty much what 'coffee' was a euphemism for. I told him about Ishmael.
"Oh yes? And what does he look like?"
"About yay high." I indicated with my hand up to about my eye level." Dark hair, very good looking..."
Charlie laughed. "Another brunette? I'd lay money that you end up with a blonde in the end." I laughed along.
"Unlikely." It was well known that I like dark hair and dark eyes. Charlie wiggled his eyebrows and waved his arms around dramatically, doing an uncanny impression of Professor Trelawny. "I see a blonde-haired, blue-eyed man in your future..."
I laughed and flicked some beer at him, then bending over to pick up my bag. "As long as he's a muggle and cute then I say bring him on!" Charlie licked beer off his nose.
"I'll see what I can do." He laughed.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out into muggle London as Charlie left to go into Diagon Alley.
*
I wandered along the back streets of London, occasionally venturing into quirky little shops along the way to kill time. I liked the small back-street shops. They always seemed to have more personality than larger stores.
I detoured down a street in the Newtown area that I had not seen before, spotting an interesting looking 2nd hand bookshop about half way down. Although the sign proclaimed it to be closed I saw a few customers inside and so ventured in. It was quite dark inside, books obscuring most of the light from the window. It had a gorgeous old book smell.
I wandered about the shop and found a battered old copy of 'The Songs of Bilitis' by Pierre Louys. It had once been recommended to me and I was amazed to find a copy as it had been out of print for years. There were some amazing carvings on the book, and though it looked positively graphic at points, I grinned at my fortune and turned to find where to pay.
Behind the desk sat a dark-haired man. His hair was dishevelled and badly in need of a cut. He was wearing a long dark overcoat, almost personifying the word 'scruffy'. At the end of the desk was a woman. They appeared to be working through a second bottle of wine. I placed the book down on the desk.
"Can I take this please?" The man looked up and scowled at me. I was immediately struck by a feeling of recognition. Did I know him? I felt I had never met him, it was more of a feeling that I had seen of him. He was muttering something to the woman while he rang up the purchase on a battered looking till. I shook my head, trying to dispel the feeling and handed over my money. As he handed back my book and change I asked what time they closed. The woman glanced at her watch and exclaimed.
"Bloody hell! It's quarter to seven!" The scruffy man nearly dropped his glass before standing up, pulling out a megaphone and demanding in an Irish accent that everyone leave the ship immediately. I had to grin at the plethora of curses he afforded us as I made my way to the door. As I left I noticed that the sign on the door said 'closed' on the inside as well as out. I laughed to myself. I would definitely have to return to the shop. The owner was my type of person! I slipped the book into my bag and walked onto the main street again.
