Late Night at the Forge
Standing under the flashing sign of Fred and George's (affectionately dubbed 'the Forge'), I smiled at the old friend I found in the building itself. With one last glance up the street, I went inside and shook some of the water off my coat.
"Hullo …" Fred started.
"… Harry!" George finished.
And so it began. They were identical twins and they always talked this way; even when they weren't distributing drinks. Being Ron's older brothers, I saw them frequently during off-times and their shtick shtuck no matter what. Dodging between tables, I made my way towards the bar.
"Barman!" a portly man hailed from across the room.
The twins looked at him, four eyebrows raised.
"Who …"
"… Me?"
I found an empty barstool and took my place.
"Yous," the sodden man slurred, stumbling over to the bar. "Wha's ya name again?"
"Fred," and "George," were the answers given, but seeing as they were said at the same time, it sounded like, "F …" and "… orge."
The man made a stupid face and looked at me.
"My barman is my bes' fren' … I like ta know his name."
"Me, too," I replied, looking away and jabbing the counter with my forefinger.
"Whaddaya hear …" Fred said as he placed a shot glass before me.
"… Whaddaya say?" George continued, filling it up. I smiled seeing the label on the bottle.
"Gimme some o' dat whiskey, Forgey, old man," the fat man slapped a hand on the bar, though I think he was catching himself from toppling over.
"I think you've …"
"… had plenty."
"Why ya doin' me like dis? I thought we was friends, Forgey," the man whined.
He couldn't seem to focus on one or the other and I got the impression that Fat Man saw two people, but attributed it to his drunkenness. I downed my firewhiskey and tapped the counter again, holding up four fingers.
When Fred pulled out three new glasses and George had filled all four, I held one out in the general direction of Fat Man.
"Hey, buddy, you want one?" I asked, wiggling the glass a little in my fingers. The corpulent drunk took an enthusiastic, but unsteady step toward me and promptly fell on his face. Shrugging, I drank the drink instead. "Works every time," I muttered, eyeing my remaining three drinks lovingly.
"You seen …"
"… Ginny yet?"
I glanced up at the barmen and nodded a little.
"Yeah, she came by the office today."
"Did she talk …"
"… to you?"
"Sure, she did," I replied.
"Because Ron …"
"… made her?"
I scoffed, "No, because she couldn't deny the old Potter charm if her life depended on it."
"You forget …"
"… Harry, she's …"
"… our sister …"
"… and she left …"
"… you for …"
"… Malfoy, remember?"
I scowled at them and tossed back another drink.
"Don't get…"
"… mad at us …"
"… mate, we're just …"
"… stating the facts."
"We don't …"
"… like it either."
My eyes darted back from one to the other and the exchange was wearing on me. I suppose it could have had something to do with the firewhiskey, as well. I took the remaining two drinks in my hand, drinking one and heading for the door with the other.
"One for the road," I called over my shoulder, stepping outside.
Cursing, I ran back inside and looked around the barstool I'd been sitting at for my trench coat.
"Lose some …"
"… thing, Harry?"
"I don't remember taking my coat off," I stated, more to myself than them. I spied it hanging limply on the coat rack by the door, strangely dry. I threw back my last drink and tossed the glass to Fred or George or whoever it was. As I pulled my coat on, I could have sworn I caught sight of a girl watching me and writing furiously in a notebook, but when I looked back, she was gone. I shrugged and stepped out into the rain.
When met with the scene on the street, I ducked into the alleyway behind the bar. Rain soaked palm trees and shivering bikini-clad women cowering in the corners under umbrellas and beach towels greeted me warmly. It was one of Fred and George's quirks, creating a tropical getaway by their bar, but no matter what, they couldn't change the weather, and the residents of Beach Forge had nowhere else to go. I smiled as a couple of the girls waved, but motioned for them to stay quiet as I turned the collar up on my coat and peered around the corner.
Bathed in the light from under the valance of his father's establishment, Serpensmordre, both Draco and Lucius stood, shielded from the rain. Draco was donning an emerald green, double-breasted suit and a white hat, and kept adjusting his unbuttoned collar nervously as his father spoke to him. With the rain and the distance, I couldn't hear what was being said, but Draco didn't seem pleased with the lecture.
"I don't know where they are!" he suddenly shouted, and Lucius slapped him with a black glove. I bit my tongue to keep from laughing, whether at the shocked expression on Malfoy's face, or the mere fact that Lucius actually slapped him with a glove, I don't know.
His father leered down at him before walking back into the building. Draco composed himself and looked around apprehensively, making to walk away, but before he could get far, Lucius' hand reached out of the door and hooked the back of his suit coat.
"This isn't Panama, boy, button your collar and put a tie on. That Weasley tramp is rubbing off on you," Lucius spat loudly before retreating once more behind the door, the light extinguishing. I narrowed my eyes when I heard 'that Weasley tramp' and had to stop myself from leaving my perch.
Draco turned toward the door and yelled, "You should know!" and shook his head. Straightening his jacket, he started pacing the front stoop, never venturing out from under the veil and reached inside his jacket but his hand came back empty. A commotion across the street had caught his attention and he seemed enraged. I followed his gaze.
Getting dragged between two burly men in matching pinstriped suits and rolled brim hats was an unconscious Seamus Finnegan. With a glance up at the sky, Draco ran to the side of the building, the rain having let up, and beckoned for them to follow.
"Damn," I breathed when the four of them were out of sight. Looking up and down the strip, I decided it would be safe to cross in front of the Forge and into an unfrequented alleyway, just on the other side of the Candied Cauldron Confectionary Company from Malfoy and his henchmen. I did this and checked the strip again for movement.
None at all.
Looking into the window of the confectionary, I didn't see anyone. I took my chances and knelt below the front window, making my for the alleyway and peeking around the corner.
"… down the middle of the street," Malfoy was scolding his minions, red-faced and pacing. "And you definitely weren't supposed to beat him up."
"We weren't?" one of them grunted stupidly.
"No, Goyle, you weren't."
"But, boss … that's what we do," the other put in.
"Not yet!"
Seamus was stirring from where they'd dropped him and he looked up at Malfoy. He gave a shout and attempted to scramble away from them, but the one called Goyle picked the little Irishman up by the scruff of his neck and held him in front of Draco.
"Keep your voice down, Finnegan," Malfoy admonished, bending and picking up Seamus' hat and dusting it off.
"Make this ogre put me down," Seamus demanded, his feet kicking and arms flailing.
"You're much too feisty for that."
"I'll take on your flobberworms any day, Malfoy," Seamus exclaimed, eyes wild, taking a swing at the blond who ducked back just in time.
"Flobberworms?" Draco was obviously confused, but this only fueled his anger. He took Seamus' hat and jammed it onto the little man's head, pulling the brim down to his nose so the dent stuck up on top. "See, Crabbe, now would be the appropriate time for you to beat him up."
"We can break his big toes," Goyle suggested.
"And his thumb toes," Crabbe snickered and Goyle nodded in agreement. It was too pathetic to be funny and Malfoy looked to be foaming at the mouth.
"Gimme your best shot, Malfoy," Seamus was saying from under his hat. "Bring all your flobberworms and whatever else you've got ready for me."
Draco made a face and punched the captive square on the jaw. Finnegan swung like a pendulum, but was silent.
"That one's got a screw loose," the blond commented, cursing under his breath and shaking his hand.
Crabbe and Goyle looked thunderstruck that they didn't get to do the honors.
"Drop him and leave him. I'll have father deal with him," Draco commanded, buttoning his top button and pulling a tie out of his pocket. Goyle did as he was told.
"Where to now, boss?" Crabbe asked, stretching his neck and cracking his knuckles.
"I've got a date with Ginger," he answered, smiling a little and turning toward the street.
Wondering who Ginger was, I barely had enough time to flatten myself against the front of the candy shop before Malfoy exited the alley, tying his tie.
"Weasley tramp … ha … she's my Weasley tramp," he was muttering, as he passed, adjusting the knot. They disappeared down a side street and I peeled myself off the wall.
"Ginger. I'll remember that," I said to myself as the rain started again. I had that nagging feeling that I was being watched and spun on my heel, wand at the ready. Seeing no one, I continued on my way. I heard the sound of quill on parchment and spun again, again, finding no one. Pausing a moment before going on, I made it to my apartment without incident.
Standing under the flashing sign of Fred and George's (affectionately dubbed 'the Forge'), I smiled at the old friend I found in the building itself. With one last glance up the street, I went inside and shook some of the water off my coat.
"Hullo …" Fred started.
"… Harry!" George finished.
And so it began. They were identical twins and they always talked this way; even when they weren't distributing drinks. Being Ron's older brothers, I saw them frequently during off-times and their shtick shtuck no matter what. Dodging between tables, I made my way towards the bar.
"Barman!" a portly man hailed from across the room.
The twins looked at him, four eyebrows raised.
"Who …"
"… Me?"
I found an empty barstool and took my place.
"Yous," the sodden man slurred, stumbling over to the bar. "Wha's ya name again?"
"Fred," and "George," were the answers given, but seeing as they were said at the same time, it sounded like, "F …" and "… orge."
The man made a stupid face and looked at me.
"My barman is my bes' fren' … I like ta know his name."
"Me, too," I replied, looking away and jabbing the counter with my forefinger.
"Whaddaya hear …" Fred said as he placed a shot glass before me.
"… Whaddaya say?" George continued, filling it up. I smiled seeing the label on the bottle.
"Gimme some o' dat whiskey, Forgey, old man," the fat man slapped a hand on the bar, though I think he was catching himself from toppling over.
"I think you've …"
"… had plenty."
"Why ya doin' me like dis? I thought we was friends, Forgey," the man whined.
He couldn't seem to focus on one or the other and I got the impression that Fat Man saw two people, but attributed it to his drunkenness. I downed my firewhiskey and tapped the counter again, holding up four fingers.
When Fred pulled out three new glasses and George had filled all four, I held one out in the general direction of Fat Man.
"Hey, buddy, you want one?" I asked, wiggling the glass a little in my fingers. The corpulent drunk took an enthusiastic, but unsteady step toward me and promptly fell on his face. Shrugging, I drank the drink instead. "Works every time," I muttered, eyeing my remaining three drinks lovingly.
"You seen …"
"… Ginny yet?"
I glanced up at the barmen and nodded a little.
"Yeah, she came by the office today."
"Did she talk …"
"… to you?"
"Sure, she did," I replied.
"Because Ron …"
"… made her?"
I scoffed, "No, because she couldn't deny the old Potter charm if her life depended on it."
"You forget …"
"… Harry, she's …"
"… our sister …"
"… and she left …"
"… you for …"
"… Malfoy, remember?"
I scowled at them and tossed back another drink.
"Don't get…"
"… mad at us …"
"… mate, we're just …"
"… stating the facts."
"We don't …"
"… like it either."
My eyes darted back from one to the other and the exchange was wearing on me. I suppose it could have had something to do with the firewhiskey, as well. I took the remaining two drinks in my hand, drinking one and heading for the door with the other.
"One for the road," I called over my shoulder, stepping outside.
Cursing, I ran back inside and looked around the barstool I'd been sitting at for my trench coat.
"Lose some …"
"… thing, Harry?"
"I don't remember taking my coat off," I stated, more to myself than them. I spied it hanging limply on the coat rack by the door, strangely dry. I threw back my last drink and tossed the glass to Fred or George or whoever it was. As I pulled my coat on, I could have sworn I caught sight of a girl watching me and writing furiously in a notebook, but when I looked back, she was gone. I shrugged and stepped out into the rain.
When met with the scene on the street, I ducked into the alleyway behind the bar. Rain soaked palm trees and shivering bikini-clad women cowering in the corners under umbrellas and beach towels greeted me warmly. It was one of Fred and George's quirks, creating a tropical getaway by their bar, but no matter what, they couldn't change the weather, and the residents of Beach Forge had nowhere else to go. I smiled as a couple of the girls waved, but motioned for them to stay quiet as I turned the collar up on my coat and peered around the corner.
Bathed in the light from under the valance of his father's establishment, Serpensmordre, both Draco and Lucius stood, shielded from the rain. Draco was donning an emerald green, double-breasted suit and a white hat, and kept adjusting his unbuttoned collar nervously as his father spoke to him. With the rain and the distance, I couldn't hear what was being said, but Draco didn't seem pleased with the lecture.
"I don't know where they are!" he suddenly shouted, and Lucius slapped him with a black glove. I bit my tongue to keep from laughing, whether at the shocked expression on Malfoy's face, or the mere fact that Lucius actually slapped him with a glove, I don't know.
His father leered down at him before walking back into the building. Draco composed himself and looked around apprehensively, making to walk away, but before he could get far, Lucius' hand reached out of the door and hooked the back of his suit coat.
"This isn't Panama, boy, button your collar and put a tie on. That Weasley tramp is rubbing off on you," Lucius spat loudly before retreating once more behind the door, the light extinguishing. I narrowed my eyes when I heard 'that Weasley tramp' and had to stop myself from leaving my perch.
Draco turned toward the door and yelled, "You should know!" and shook his head. Straightening his jacket, he started pacing the front stoop, never venturing out from under the veil and reached inside his jacket but his hand came back empty. A commotion across the street had caught his attention and he seemed enraged. I followed his gaze.
Getting dragged between two burly men in matching pinstriped suits and rolled brim hats was an unconscious Seamus Finnegan. With a glance up at the sky, Draco ran to the side of the building, the rain having let up, and beckoned for them to follow.
"Damn," I breathed when the four of them were out of sight. Looking up and down the strip, I decided it would be safe to cross in front of the Forge and into an unfrequented alleyway, just on the other side of the Candied Cauldron Confectionary Company from Malfoy and his henchmen. I did this and checked the strip again for movement.
None at all.
Looking into the window of the confectionary, I didn't see anyone. I took my chances and knelt below the front window, making my for the alleyway and peeking around the corner.
"… down the middle of the street," Malfoy was scolding his minions, red-faced and pacing. "And you definitely weren't supposed to beat him up."
"We weren't?" one of them grunted stupidly.
"No, Goyle, you weren't."
"But, boss … that's what we do," the other put in.
"Not yet!"
Seamus was stirring from where they'd dropped him and he looked up at Malfoy. He gave a shout and attempted to scramble away from them, but the one called Goyle picked the little Irishman up by the scruff of his neck and held him in front of Draco.
"Keep your voice down, Finnegan," Malfoy admonished, bending and picking up Seamus' hat and dusting it off.
"Make this ogre put me down," Seamus demanded, his feet kicking and arms flailing.
"You're much too feisty for that."
"I'll take on your flobberworms any day, Malfoy," Seamus exclaimed, eyes wild, taking a swing at the blond who ducked back just in time.
"Flobberworms?" Draco was obviously confused, but this only fueled his anger. He took Seamus' hat and jammed it onto the little man's head, pulling the brim down to his nose so the dent stuck up on top. "See, Crabbe, now would be the appropriate time for you to beat him up."
"We can break his big toes," Goyle suggested.
"And his thumb toes," Crabbe snickered and Goyle nodded in agreement. It was too pathetic to be funny and Malfoy looked to be foaming at the mouth.
"Gimme your best shot, Malfoy," Seamus was saying from under his hat. "Bring all your flobberworms and whatever else you've got ready for me."
Draco made a face and punched the captive square on the jaw. Finnegan swung like a pendulum, but was silent.
"That one's got a screw loose," the blond commented, cursing under his breath and shaking his hand.
Crabbe and Goyle looked thunderstruck that they didn't get to do the honors.
"Drop him and leave him. I'll have father deal with him," Draco commanded, buttoning his top button and pulling a tie out of his pocket. Goyle did as he was told.
"Where to now, boss?" Crabbe asked, stretching his neck and cracking his knuckles.
"I've got a date with Ginger," he answered, smiling a little and turning toward the street.
Wondering who Ginger was, I barely had enough time to flatten myself against the front of the candy shop before Malfoy exited the alley, tying his tie.
"Weasley tramp … ha … she's my Weasley tramp," he was muttering, as he passed, adjusting the knot. They disappeared down a side street and I peeled myself off the wall.
"Ginger. I'll remember that," I said to myself as the rain started again. I had that nagging feeling that I was being watched and spun on my heel, wand at the ready. Seeing no one, I continued on my way. I heard the sound of quill on parchment and spun again, again, finding no one. Pausing a moment before going on, I made it to my apartment without incident.
