Note:

Lolua – thanks for all your kind words and continued support. About any other unsavory link ups … It's noir-esque … everybody sleeps with everybody, so certain things must be done to achieve the feel. However, I can assure you, there will be nothing more than snide references to the past in regards to Harry and Hermione (I wouldn't be able to take it either – ech).

COUSIN!: Behold it is so … Fare thee well and don't let me forget my trench coat, thou mangy cur …

July 24: Owls and Stoolpigeons



"If he loved her, he'd let her have Ovaltine."

I looked up from the notes I was scribbling down. Ron was playing Solitaire with only half of a deck of cards and making random comments as I divulged to him the little information I had, neglecting to mention my late night rendezvous. He laid down a card.

"Damn."

Apparently, he had lost.

"Why don't you put those away and try to help me?" I suggested and Ron put the cards in his desk drawer.

"Tell me one thing, Harry," he said, leaning back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head.

I rested my chin in my hand and began drawing baubles around my paper.

"What's that, Ron?"

"Now that Ginny's back, are you going to try to get with her?"

I continued to draw, thinking this over for a moment.

"What do you think I should do?"

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but Hermione cut him off from across the room.

"You should forget about her and let her marry Malfoy."

My partner made a face at his wife.

"And why should he do that?"

"Because, Ron, Draco Malfoy can and has been taking very good care of her. It's a much better lifestyle that what Harry can offer, anyway," she explained, not even looking away from her nails.

"I can't offer you any better and I don't see you complaining," Ron shot back, sitting forward in his chair, offense mingling with his anger.

I decided that this conversation wasn't really about me anymore and went back to sketching my baubles.

Hermione gave him an apologetic look.

"I didn't mean it like that, Ron. I'm just saying Malfoy may not be such a bad choice for your sister."

Ron stomped to her desk.

"Not a bad choice?! Not a bad choice?! He's the worst choice!"

Hermione stood toe-to-toe with him.

"He is a good guy, Ron. He hasn't done anything wrong. I don't see what you've got against him."

If I'd looked up, I wouldn't have been surprised to see Ron foaming at the mouth, but I was content to shade in my baubles.

"Draco Malfoy is nothing more than an overblown nitwit who shells out dough left and right to get easy women into bed with him," he declared.

"My Ginny is not EASY!" I roared, standing. Realizing that I'd just suffered from a severe lapse in judgment, I fell into my chair and went back to coloring like nothing had happened.

"I didn't mean her, but … your Ginny?" Ron inquired, turning to me, eyebrow arched.

Hermione snorted.

"He obviously has yet to get over Ginny leaving him for that 'overblown nitwit', as you so graciously christened Mr. Malfoy."

I put down my quill and looked up at the two of them.

"Anything that I needed to get over, I got over a long time ago," I stated before going back to my overly-baubled note paper, adding under my breath, "Anything else? Well, some things never change."

Hermione made another noise of disdain and sat down again. Ron, too, went to sit down across from me and I could feel his eyes on me.

"So you are going to try to get with her again?"

He didn't sound angry and I took a chance.

"The thought crossed my mind."

There was no sound from either of them and I peeked up from my paper to find Ron grinning at me.

"What?" I chuckled nervously. I'd been on the receiving end of Ron's left hook, as well as many other well-delivered punches, and I wasn't looking to become reacquainted.

"Finally. You're getting off your backside to do something about that …"

"RON!" Hermione cut him off and he didn't finish, but put his feet up on his desk and admired me with what looked to be pride. There was a tapping noise at the window and I grumbled when I saw the Malay eagle owl with the dark, opaque eyes and the white and green feathers. At first glance, it's almost beautiful. Not to me. Not anymore.

I turned a charming face on my secretary and pleaded, sweetly, "Hermione? Could you take a message for me?"

"Get your own mail."

"Please?" I begged.

She sighed and walked to the window to let the cursed fowl in. It flew a little too low for my liking as it passed overhead on the way to Hermione's desk and I ducked. My secretary took the note and sent the bird on it's way. As soon as it was clear of the window I cranked it closed and shut the blinds.

"Do you even want to know what she has to say?"

"No. Hell, I could probably quote it without even looking at it."

Ron smirked and Hermione looked at me expectantly.

"Go on then," she prodded with a small smile of amusement.

I cleared my throat and feigned a weepy face.

"Harry – I desperately need to make an appointment with you. I think Roger's got someone on the side, maybe two or three, and I was walking by the cemetery and I saw a headstone and I remembered Cedric and … and … and I need a shoulder to soak with my incessant sobbing. Please, dearest Harry, owl me back as soon as you get a moment!" I capped off my performance with a hearty wail and flung my head onto my forearm and pounded the desktop with a fist for a moment before looking up to see how I did.

Ron was guffawing from his desk and Hermione, who had been following along on the parchment, nodded.

"Very good. But you forgot to gasp and bow your head after saying 'Cedric' and 'Love always, Cho'. I give it a nine," she told me, crumpling the letter and tossing it into the bin beside her desk. She regarded Cho and her perpetual torrent of squalling with the same contempt that I did.

"Ten, Harry. That … that was great," Ron managed between laughs.

I stood and bowed a couple times.

"Thank you, thank you."

I took my seat again, smoothing my tie and reviewed my baubled notes.

"I thought we would have heard from Seamus or Albie by now."

"You did not just call him Albie."

"It does seem odd that Finnegan hasn't stormed in," Ron agreed, ignoring his wife.

I thought about this a moment, standing and opening the blinds on the window again. Three stories below, an elderly woman was walking a hippogriff. A group of pre-adolescents who had presumably consumed a large amount of Levitating Sherbet Balls were floating out of the Candied Cauldron followed by their parents. A bespectacled girl in the alleyway beside Deano's jotting things in a notebook. The Russian on the corner was selling flobberworms.

Flobberworms.

I looked down the street at Serpensmordre and wondered if maybe I should have picked Seamus up last night after Draco left him. Lucius Malfoy was a crook, but I didn't think he had the testicular fortitude to actually do any real harm. At least, not since his women softened him. There was time when he would have probably beat Draco with a pipe for talking back, but last night, he merely slapped him with a glove.

Something was going on in this town, but, looking back at the hippogriff, the Russian and the floating children, I couldn't put my finger on it. I looked for the girl and the notebook, but she had disappeared. Turning back to my office, I leaned against the window ledge and tipped my hat back, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"What are you thinking?" Ron asked.

"Draco didn't know about the flobberworms."

"Seamus obviously thought he should."

"But he doesn't."

"Malfoy could have been covering for himself," Ron suggested.

"He's not that clever. He didn't know about them. Ginny didn't even know about them."

"Why would Ginny know anything about his business dealings?"

"Because Malfoy's not that clever," I repeated, "I get the impression she knows more about his business than he does."

"Why was Ginny so mum on the Ovaltine?"

"I don't know. She wouldn't let me ask questions."

Ron spun lazily in his chair and began mumbling truncated phrases as he always did when he thought.

"Hermione," I said suddenly, sitting in my chair and rolling to her desk. "I need you to owl Albie and make a meeting."

"I refuse to call him Albie."

"Could you just write the letter for me?"

"Why?"

"Because I pay you to write letters for me!"

"I get paid?"

"To write letters for me."

She picked up a pen and a new roll of parchment and looked at me expectantly.

"What?"

"Aren't you going to dictate the letter?"

"I pay you to write them," I told her very slowly, to make sure she understood this time. She put the heel of her shoe through my toe to signify that she indeed understood.

"Thanks," I managed, rolling back to my desk.

"Those heels are killer," Ron whispered. "Almost lost my pinky toe last week."

"What did you do?" The pain didn't bother me so much and I found myself grateful she aimed for my big toe.

"She was whining about …"

"I do not whine," Hermione corrected, as she wrote the letter.

"She was complaining …"

"Nor do I complain. I was addressing the situation."

Ron rolled his eyes and went on.

"She was 'addressing the situation' about her high heels being a bit uncomfortable and that she may never wear them again, and I told her that I quite liked them – being the admiring husband that I am – and that I thought they may add some kick to our … well … and she showed me how much kick they'd add."

"So she doesn't wear them for you?" I joked.

Hermione's head snapped up.

"What?!"

"Watch your mouth, Potter," Ron bellowed, "I'll not have any mention of any of that ever … again."

"I was just joking, Ron," I said, hands up, palms outward. "She never wore them for me, either."

"HARRY!"

Hermione growled something and reached for another roll of parchment.

"Did the perfect Hermione make a mistake?" I asked, rolling away from my irate partner and to my secretary.

"Quill slipped, that's all," she said, refusing to look at me. Her cheeks were pink and I almost felt bad for bringing it up. Almost.

"I don't want to see Albie anymore, anyway," I told her. "Get me Neville."

"Why Neville?"

"I need information and I want it straight."

"Dumbledore has information."

"But he speaks in riddles and I don't have time for riddles today."

"Longbottom it is, then," she said and went to work. I went back to my desk, chancing a look at Ron.

He narrowed his eyes at me and leaned forward on his elbows.

"Did she …?" he stopped abruptly and took a quill and began writing something down. A short moment later, he passed the parchment to my desk.



'Did she really wear them for you?'



I thought about my answer carefully for a moment before penning my reply.



'Which answer won't make me bleed?'



I was happy to see that he smiled a little at this.



'Fair enough. I'll take that as a yes.'



'Am I going to bleed?'



'No. But I'm going to get my kicks.'



I laughed and Hermione scowled at us.

"Honestly. Passing notes like a couple of school children," she muttered, as she went to the window. Cranking it open, she called in a singsong voice that betrayed her current demeanor, "Hedwig!"

My snowy owl fluttered down from the roof and lighted on the window sill.

"Find Neville," she told the bird, tying the letter to Hedwig's leg. The owl hooted in reply and flew away.

"Thanks, Mione," I told her as she moved to stand behind Ron, who quickly tapped his wand on the parchment we'd been passing back and forth.

"Let me see this," she said, grabbing for the parchment. I braced myself for another Hermione lecture. "Isn't that pleasant. I love you, too, Ronnie."

I frowned and looked at Ron who breathed a sigh of relief. Hermione kissed his cheek and went back to her desk. My partner clasped his hands behind his head and put his feet up on his desk with a triumphant smile.

There was the sound of pounding footfalls on the stairs and the three of us looked at the door.

"Got your letter, Harry," Neville announced, running in through the door. He leaned on my desk, trying to catch his breath and Hedwig fluttered in through the open window and gave the breathless man an indignant look.

"Thanks, Hedwig," I whispered, petting her head. She cast another look in Neville's direction and returned to her perch on the roof. I turned to the red-faced fellow still gasping for air.

"You could have walked, Neville, it's not that important."

"I didn't want to be late," he stated.

"I didn't give you a time, did I?" I asked, looking at Hermione. She shook her head.

"No. I just didn't want to be late."

"Right. Sit down, then. Take a breather," I told him, offering him a chair that wasn't there. "Take mine," I said, standing and going to the window. Neville smiled weakly and sat down, pulling his notebook and quill out of his pocket.

"Uh, boss?" Neville asked, frowning at the parchment on my desk.

I made a face when he said 'boss', but said, "What?" as I stepped to his side. Neville took the note sheet in his hand and studied it closely. I moved to look over his shoulder but nothing caught my eye.

"You forgot something."

I furrowed my brow at him. He smiled and pointed at the paper.

"Seamus works for Ovaltine."

There was a loud 'thud' as Ron's feet hit the wooden floor and he leaned forward in his chair. I backed away from Neville, thinking this over.

"That's it, Harry," Ron breathed.

"What's it?" Neville asked, confused, but obviously happy that he was useful.

"That's the connection," I agreed, "but we don't know why."

"What does Seamus do for Ovaltine, Neville?" Ron inquired.

"He's a tester," he answered, his grin broadening.

Again, I thought for a moment.

"That explains … nothing," I sighed, shaking my head.

"What does he need with a test taster?" Ron asked.

"Taste tester, honey," Hermione corrected.

"Whatever."

"Malfoy's up to something," I thought aloud.

"What if …" my informant began, leaning back in my chair, and biting his lower lip as he mulled these things over in his noodle.

Ron and I waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

"What are you thinking, Neville?" Ron wanted to know.

"Why would a bubbly pop manufacturer want information from an chocolate milk tester …" Neville began.

"… unless he wants him to …" Ron continued.

"… taste test chocolate flavored bubbly pop," I finished.

The three of us let this sink in for a moment.

Hermione made a face.

"Chocolate flavored bubbly pop?"

"He's a Malfoy," Ron interjected. "They're all a bit touched in the head."

"You're a good man, Neville. I should hire you full-time," I said, patting my friend on the back. Color rose in his rounded-cheeks.

"Oh, thanks, Harry."

Seamus burst through the door and pointed a finger at me.

"You promised me that if I helped you out, you wouldn't let them get to me. They got to me, Potter," he accused.

"We haven't asked you for help yet, Seamus," Ron stated, quirking an eyebrow at the fuming Irishman.

"But I was going to if you asked and they found me, and you did nothing to protect me."

I rolled my eyes.

"From what? Flobberworms?"

"You knew about the flobberworms and you still did nothing?!"

"Seamus, old man, it's alright," I tried.

"It's anything but alright! I could have died!"

"When?"

"He came after me."

"A flobberworm?" Neville asked.

"The Russian on the corner!"

Ron, Hermione and I threw him a collective frown.

"What?"

"The Russian on the corner beat me up."

"I thought Malfoy beat you up," Ron said.

Seamus paled.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Finnegan's behaviour suddenly changed.

"Yeah, well, no harm done, really. Just a bruise, see? Er, uh, see you around Harry. Ron. Neville. Miss Granger," Seamus said quickly, heading out the door.

"Mrs. Weasley!" Ron corrected as the door slammed.

I sat on the edge of my desk and all three faces turned to me.

"Something screwy is definitely going on in this town."

"Do you have something for me to do?" Neville asked, popping something into his mouth.

"Follow Seamus around a little bit, but be careful. You got smarts on him, but he's quicker. If he sees you, duck out and don't worry about it. Just find out what you can and get back to me."

"Gotcha, Harry."

Neville's excitement at being useful was evident as he stood and floated to the door.

Floated to the door?

"Hey, I want one," Ron exclaimed and Neville tossed him a levitating sherbet ball.

"Want one?" he offered. Hermione and I declined and he winked as he directed himself out the door.

"So, Harry?" Ron asked, munching happily on the charmed sweet.

I looked at him as I sat down.

"Are you going to try to get Ginny to sleep with you?" he asked, rising a couple inches out of his chair.

I merely smiled and looked away from him, my gaze lingering a second too long on his desk.

Ron made a face and pushed himself away from it quickly when he realized what I'd done.

"That is all kinds of wrong!" he declared, looking sick. "I can't believe you!"

"Don't worry, Ron. Ginny never touched the desk."

Hermione gasped.

Apparently, that was the answer that was going to make me bleed.