Chapter One: White Collar Man
Part Two: Gone Out
Ron had flooed just before seven, probably on orders from Hermione, I was sure she knew that if I were given too much time to brood I probably would back out. For a Gryffindor girl she is damnably manipulative at times. As it was I barely had time for a shower and change before having to rush out cloak in one hand broom in the other, my hair left to dry haphazardly en-route.
Speeding high into the low hanging cloud cover I whizzed over London, cloak flapping loudly, the sudden change in altitude making my ears pop. Five minutes and I had to descend again. Nose-diving I let the remains of my shower be blown unceremoniously from of my disheveled hair before landing. Combing it down with my hand as best I could, I glanced at the street signs. I was on Bain, Cronesroost was the next street over; I decided to hoof it to the Bubbling Pit.
The establishment was already crowded and I felt slightly out of place in its excessively lively ambience. Better than usual. By the variations on Queen's English and the pile wilted Labour papers by the bar I could tell that these people were not the type to care who the great Harry Potter had once been. A middle class place, I could breath easy without fear of the Wash-ups and Up and Comings in Hermione's ritzier lounges or those more questionable persons that favoured the seamy dive that Ron had dragged me into on one particularly memorable occasion. It always seems to me that it is the extreme ends of society that cling to glory, perhaps it is because they are the one's who are farthest from the happy medium. Or perhaps it is because the middle class is to occupied and lacks the leisure time to indulge in more news than that of the hear and now. What ever the reason for it is I can rest easy.
Chucking my broom and cloak in the visitors closet after having a rather embarrassing run in with the door man, I made my way into the pub to scout out my friends. The bouncer problem has happened before, they never will believe that I am really not still some teenager, at times I almost look forward to gray hair, at least then they won't be able to say I'm some punk kid trying to sneak a Mickey while my parents are off playing bridge.
It took me a quarter of an hour to find their table. The place itself was small but already filled to overflowing and the semidarkness made it difficult to distinguish one face from another. I probably missed them several times before I picked out Hermione's upper curst cadence amongst the glottal stops and discarded H's, and a moment latter I made our Ron's blazing top in a booth at the back. Finding them at last, I sank down into the little alcove they had by some magic managed to save.
"I was worried that you had decided you had better things to do." She admonished me through the half gloom.
"Now Hermione, he only just got here." Ron grinned boyishly up at me, shifting over on the vinyl-covered bench. "Did you think to bring the mag, guess not? Well, Hermione was convinced you wouldn't be coming…" Ron trailed off and I had a sneaking suspicion that there was some deeper importance to my presence on this particular night. There was anxiousness to Ron's congeniality and it was all to apparent that something was 'supposed to happen'.
"You might as well tell him." Hermione interjected sounding not a little waspish.
She was smiling, showing her teeth but still with that same restlessness, exacting edge that possessed Ron. She was a great friend but at times like these I wondered how it was that Ron could put up with her. As close as I am to both of them the premise of their relationship eludes me. For one thing she can't cook, I always thought that Ron would never go for anyone that was not a wizard in the kitchen as well as the sack. All this flashed though my mind as I waited for the reason from my presence became clear.
Ron was looking uneasy at Hermione's suggestion. Finally he clapped me on the shoulder in an overly jovial way that I recognized only too well, something was indeed up.
"Well Harry my man it's almost eight and we haven't even had our first round, what do you say to going up and buying us something to drink." I nodded and he thwacked me on the shoulder again before saying "Good sport" rather too loudly right next to my ear.
Weaving back though the crowd again and past a small live music stage where tonight's band was just setting up I made my way to the bar. This being a Wizarding establishment I ordered three pints of Almost Ale. Hermione had always had something against full ale and to night I sensed that I better not put any unintentional spanners in the works.
The barman scoffed heartily into his moustache when I called out the order.
"Flyin'?" he asked rather gruffly.
"No, my friends girlfriend." I was flying but I have never found that that is the best thing to say to anyone in the liquor business. At my response he seemed to become noticeably more friendly shooting me a sympathetic look from under heavy eyebrows.
"Ay, all ways got to please the lasses. Are yea stayin' fer the band tonight they'r ruddy decent as I understand." I told him that I was, and absconded as soon as possible with our drinks, social skills are not my forte.
When I got back to the table after a some what parlous journey though the masses and with several near spills, Ron and Hermione were whispering to one another, and she looked more at her ease and had discarded her book as if she had almost entirely forgot its existence. Upon reflection I doubt there has ever been a time when Hermione has not gone out with out a book, even if it is just a paperback stashed in her handbag. I don't think I can imagine her with out it, just as many people can't see me with out my glasses.
"Drinks." I said smiling as I plonked them down on the worn and heavily polished table, at Hermione's inquiring glance I added rather defensively, "It's only Almost Ale!" I caught Ron's look of disappointment but shrugged at him and tilted my head to Hermione.
"So, what was it you were going to tell me?" I asked as casually as I could once I had sat down.
There was a pause and I could see Ron nudging Hermione's arm. I had to suppress a smile, he is usually such a traditionalist, and now here he is palming off the job of telling his best friend something, that's obviously important, onto a girl.
"No, you tell him Ron, you said you wanted to." Was Hermione's somewhat admonishing response. Ron looked at her pleadingly, I probably wasn't meant to see it but Ron had never been one for subtlety.
"All right, all right, Harry… Ron and I have decided to get engaged, we haven't told anyone else yet but we wanted you to be the first to know." There it was out. The way Hermione put it, it felt like nothing.
To tell the truth I had been expecting it for some time now but nonetheless I still found myself feeling a mild surprise, which I have long recognized as the preliminaries to a later greater feeling of shock. For the moment however I knew my role and congratulations were quick to follow.
"Ron, Hermione, I'm happy for you both" it sounded only particularly sincere
"We were worried that you would say we were too young" Ron intoned.
"No you were worried that your mum would say we were to young, we haven't told her yet Harry, you know how she is, sometimes all is right and in its place and then she'll hear something and fly into a fit."
"My mum does not fly into a fit! But anyway Harry if we have you on our side it will help I think, mum likes you, do you think you could drop a word in for us next time your at the borrow. We haven't told her yet but we want to kind'a like… what's it called, pave the way."
"Ron! I will not have you shirking the job off onto Harry."
Relatively peaceable conversation over took our table and by the end of our first round Ron was grinning dopily his arm draped around Hermione all worries for the moment dispelled and I, doing my best not to look and feel the third wheel. Here they where, young and in love and I didn't even have a girl to call my own.
It was nine and the band had started playing, their thuds and bumps drowned out any further possibility for conversation. I watched for the next two rounds as my friends became more and more engrossed in each other. I have to forgive them, we are still young enough to disregard most social norms on occasions, and having just announced their engagement I could understand that they would want time apart form me, but their success only served to emphasize my own failure in the relationship department.
To kill time I had taken to looking round the room, playing the game of 'spot that vocation'. Easiest where the lower level ministry men, their vinyl brief cases tucked surreptitiously under their seats gave them away if the slight shininess of their polyester robes did not. There were a few foreigners, mostly American wizards, they Apparated via the new step root over Greenland and Iceland, for a casual weekend. They could always be seen slumming it in some where that could be though of as slightly more than what could only be assumed were their normal hangouts.
I've never been to America but, I'm not overly fond of Americans, they seem to be enthralled by what they consider to be England's 'Old World Charm' and coo over our accents in their course tones. It's maddening. Plus they get roundly, not to say we don't. Beside this there was a gaggle of production line girls, almost as loud as the Americans and slowly spilling over onto their table. You could tell that certain amongst them would not be spending the night at home. I only hoped they had thought to bring protection.
The music was not that bad, a mash of guitar, enhanced with magic to take off the twang yet unable to completely dispel the amateurish simplicity of the cords. The vocalist, a rather lanky man with a slightly receding hairline that was accentuated by the fact that he wore his hair long, wove his simple lyrics with an unexpected finesse. I looked out over the five person band two guitarists one of who seems to also play a bass, a keyboardist the vocalist and a drummer. It was the drummer who caught my eye, carroty hair catching the harsh lights, the same shade as Ron's. Weasley hair, I thought whimsically. I continued this aimless examination until a quarter-past ten when Ron and Hermione decided that it was time to go.
"Do you have a ride?" Hermione asked when I made no move to follow them.
"Yeah, I brought my broom don't worry. I think I will stay for a bit." She gave a somewhat surprised look and then bet down to kiss my cheek good night.
"Have fun then." She must have thought I needed the encouragement; she isn't usually the kissing type.
Did everyone think I needed to get attached that badly? I would have been annoyed at her insinuation if I hadn't had those last couple of drinks. As it was I didn't much care. Ron was standing rather impatiently with their coats and I could see he couldn't wait to get out and back to their apartment, it obviously had a bed. I smiled to my self, at lest I wasn't that transparent.
I suck around not really wanting to be there but not wishing to go back to the apartment either. The dishes from breakfast were still sitting in the sink. For once I was just going to leave them there. When all things considered I was a single unattached young man, I had the right to be out! Hermione's little insinuation must have had some subconscious effect on me. The band continued to play almost unceasingly, I had moved to the bar where I had a better view and had resumed my scrutiny of the pub. As predicted the Americans and the factory girls were now irrevocably entangled, and slowly dropping out by twos. Sitting watching them trail out I felt almost voyeuristic. In some part of my mind I could hear myself denounce it as immoral just to sit there and do nothing, slightly jealous of their success, but it was an adventure and I had nothing better to do.
The band didn't let up; the lanky man had given way to one of the guitarists, and was sitting out nursing a drink. The crowd gradually thinned but I was determined not to leave out of shear perverse soberness, I would not submit to the calls of my domestic life. I stayed until last call for drinks at eleven, when everyone rushed to the bar amid I felt compelled to vacate my seat. The band had stopped and was beginning to pack up.
The bar was closing in half an hour so I decided to stick it out. Who knew someone might come along and tap me on the shoulder, sweep me off my feet. You never knew. But I can't say I held out much hope, I've always been slightly timid when it comes to approaching girls. With the exception of Hermione they are somewhat of a mystery and even Hermione has her days. I guess that is why I haven't really had a steady relationship since I left Hogwarts. There have been a few but no one really; I tend to get paranoid when they approach me. I don't what someone only after 'The Boy Who Lived'. Five minutes to close guess I should have gone home and watched telly after all.
"Harry? Is that you?" a finger taped me one the shoulder and I must admit I jumped.
***
Random Minion's Reviewing Made Easy™
(This system feels like it's getting old.) Copy and past the form into the review box then check your preferred options, feel free to add your own or just leave comments.
( ) That was great! Please continue! (honestly this is the most boring option and the least useful response yet oddly enough the most frequent so don't be afraid to come out and say it.)
( ) I thought from all the tension you were building up that Ron and Hermione you tell Harry something big!
( ) I felt quite let down when it turned out they were only getting married.
( ) I was so happy when it turned out they were engaged, hope Ron's mum is ok with it!
( ) What are you thinking? Ron can't be with Hermione! Draco/Hermione all the way!!!
( ) What on earth were you smoking! Hermione can't be with Ron! Ron/Draco all the way!!!
( ) …when is this going to be a song fic already.
( ) This isn't really the most exciting fic around.
( ) this fic is down right boring, when is Ginny going to show up sp they can have hot passionate sex?
( ) I liked the part when ( enter part here )
( ) Telephone poles are good people!
( ) Hey what's up with Harry not liking Americans?!
( ) Ya! I really don't like the way non-Brits always fawn over the British accent.
( ) Please contact me when you next update.
Question: Can you give me three words to describe what you think the main character traits for Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny would be?Thanks I really appreciate your contribution.