Marietta frowned as she set down her purse on the coffee table and plopped down on the sofa.
"You really do need some fresh air," she persisted.
"I'm fine, Marietta," Cho said, feeling as though she was repeating herself one too many times. She walked back and forth from the kitchen, bringing her empty coffee cup to the sink and tidying up the area where she had been organizing some paperwork.
"Oh, just come with me and do some shopping. It'll be fun," Marietta coaxed.
"I don't need to buy anything at the moment, but I'll tell you when I do."
"You never need to purchase anything, and that's the problem!" her friend exclaimed. "I'm only going to be in this part of London for this afternoon, and then I've got to work full-time for the rest of the month. Please? For old times' sake?"
She put on an imploring expression, begging her friend to agree to going with her.
"Well…" Cho said hesitantly. "I suppose… a few hours wouldn't hurt."
Marietta positively beamed at her friend and immediately stood up again, picking her handbag up off the table as quickly as she had put it down and heading to the closet to take down her coat as well as Cho's.
Cho sighed and shook her head, smiling as she watched her friend. She supposed that was what at least half an hour of begging in the hallway outside her flat came to in the end…
"Now, we simply must visit that new robes shop as well as the restaurant they've only just opened last week. A friend of mine from work went there on opening night and said that the food was worth every Knut, Sickle, and Galleon." Marietta said, drawing her friend's arm through her own and walking out the door.
"Wait!" Cho said in protest, beginning to laugh. "Don't close the door just yet. It locks automatically, you know, and the key to it is in my purse which is still inside."
"Oh. Right," she said, letting go of the dark-haired girl to catch the door.
Rolling her eyes, she walked in through the doorway again, telling Marietta to wait outside in the hallway for her. Her sharp eyes brushed over the contents of the apartment as she headed for her bedroom; in her well-meaning friend's rush, the fact that she was still in her bedroom slippers and robe had been forgotten in addition to the keys. Her bag rested on the dresser, as always, and she pulled open a drawer to pull out a sweater and a pair of flared-bottom jeans, her preferred choice of muggle clothes when shopping. Making sure her purse was hanging off of her arm, she closed the bedroom door.
Her eyes caught a piece of paper on the floor, a newspaper clipping, as she stepped gracefully towards the main door. Picking it up delicately, she turned it over to see Harry Potter smiling up at her in all his glory; the picture had been taken for the Daily Prophet hours after his last encounter with the Dark Lord, and he looked a bit too tired to smile, and covered in dirt and blood. But the light of triumph illuminated his green eyes in the surprisingly color picture, and he looked as though he was on top of the world, almost as though he had been reborn into a free man, free from the worry of Voldemort and the heavy burden of living out his destiny.
He looked up at her, oblivious of whom she was and content to smile and wave at her as though she was another familiar face he was happy to see. She felt her heart swoon slightly, breaking and yet healing all at the same, a peculiar feeling that seemed to like paying her visits often. It was like satisfying a craving somewhere inside of her, and yet prodding open an old wound as well, refusing to let it be.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered, words she had become very well acquainted with, wiping away the tears that had begun to gather and putting the clipping away in the closest book she could find.
"Cho!" called her friend, evidently becoming more and more impatient.
She set the book carefully on the bookshelf and rushed to the door, where Marietta was now threatening to come inside the apartment and drag her out. Once outside, she closed the door and turned to find her friend tapping her foot, arms crossed.
"Ready?" she said, with a look of mixed disapproval and irritation.
"Lead the way," Cho replied with a smile, motioning for her to go ahead.
"You know, you really should consider dating again," she said, out of nowhere as they waited for the elevator to arrive.
"Marietta-" she started.
"No, Cho, hear me out," she persisted. "You've seen absolutely nobody ever since you broke up with Michael Corner. Michael Corner! That had to be, at least," – she paused to look up at the ceiling in concentration and calculate the time– "three and a half years ago. I know you can't possibly miss him that much."
Cho sighed. "You're right. It's not him that I miss."
"Well, whoever you miss, I'm just saying that you need to learn to let go of the past. Living with only your thoughts for company is dangerous."
"And how, may I ask, is it hazardous?"
"Sooner or later you'll go nutters."
"Oh, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You probably made that up just now."
"I did not," she said indignantly. "John told me."
"Ah, yes. And how fares your latest boyfriend and perhaps fiancée-to-be nowadays?"
"He's fine, thank you. He had a bit of a cold and had to miss a few days of work last week, but he recovered quickly enough."
At that moment, the elevator bell rang and the doors opened. Both women stepped in, halting their conversation only until Marietta had pressed the button for the bottom floor.
"Anyway, that's beside the point," she continued. "I'm not joking about beginning to date again."
"I know you're not. Besides, it's not like I haven't seen anyone at all in the past three or so years." Cho said coolly.
"Really? Name five men,"
"I can't really remember their names, but I do recall you setting blind dates for me left and right the first year we were out of Hogwarts, and they were all disasters."
"Not all of them. What about that nice man? His name was, um, oh, what was it?"
"Are you speaking of that crazed perfectionist who fussed about everything, or that 'doctor' you found smoking heaven knows what behind St. Mungo's? You thought they were both 'perfect dears.' "
"Neither one of them, and it wasn't my fault that they didn't turn out as well as I thought they would. It was- oh! It was that man who sold watches or something…"
"Gilbert Thatch."
"How is it that you remember his name and not anyone else's?"
"Marietta, the man forgot my name within the first five minutes after we had been acquainted! And not only that, he kept staring at other men as they walked by our table in the restaurant-"
"All right, all right, no need to go into detail," she said hastily as the doors opened again. "Just let me arrange one more blind date for you."
"No. I know well enough from experience that you have absolutely no talent or sense in organizing other people's affairs." Cho said firmly.
"Fine. How about if you came with me to this New Year's Eve party John's throwing tomorrow? It said on the invitation that a few friends could be brought along, and so I'm asking you to come with me. Surely you wouldn't object to being introduced to someone there if I happened to see someone you'd go well with."
"Hmm. I'm not sure I trust you."
"And why is that!"
"Well, you have a way of inflating things into something that are ten times bigger than you tell people they'll be. Remember your great-grandmother's birthday party?"
"Yes," she said gloomily, pushing open one of the doors of the main entrance and holding it open for her friend.
"The poor old dear nearly had a heart attack when you lit the fireworks and turned up the volume on the radio. You told her that it would be a nice, quiet party with a few friends and it turned out to be a large party with people she didn't even know and extravagant bangs and whatnot…"
"Just trust me this once. Please?"
"You're doing it again," she groaned, seeing the pleading look in her friend's eyes that was almost impossible to resist. Finally she sighed and said, "I hate it when you do that. Fine. Just this once. But I'm warning you, Marietta, if you make a mess of things once more, don't expect me to trust you any more, puppy eyes or not, deal?"
"Deal," Marietta replied reluctantly, beginning to walk towards the well-known shops of Diagon Alley.
"Marietta," said Cho, stopping in her tracks after a few moments of silence.
"What?" she said, stopping as well.
"I was wondering if you remembered the time that we went to what muggles call a 'shopping mall' with Kirana, that foreign exchange student from America,"
She snorted derisively. "How could I forget? I've learned never to try using our own currency with those muggle salespeople, the idiots."
"Maybe after going to the bank," she started slowly, "we could-"
"No, I know what you're thinking, and I want you to clear your head of those thoughts. I swore to myself that I'd never set foot inside a shopping mall again, I intend on keeping that promise to myself."
"If I'm going to your party, you may as well come with me to pick out an outfit for it. Besides, John is a muggleborn, so, chances are, he's going to invite other muggleborns as well as half-bloods, etc. They'll most likely be more comfortable wearing muggle clothes, and it would be less conspicuous if everyone wore them."
"All right, whatever you say, let's just hurry and get everything done with our shopping and we'll discuss your love life further."
"When? I thought that this was the only afternoon you had free for the rest of this month."
"Oh, I sort of- bent the truth a little. See, you really did need to get out of that stuffy flat-"
"- In other words, you have absolutely nothing to do after your regular work hours on the weekdays, am I correct?"
"Sometimes it's almost scary how well you know me…"
"Good. Then it's settled." Said Cho, beginning to walk again, feeling that her friend had already done her a world of good.
"You need to send those files to Fisher by ten o'clock today so that he can record them into the Ministry records, all that technical rubbish, unless you want to deal with about three more weeks of sorting through all those Vampire reports again. With that said, you have exactly fifteen minutes to get those files down there." Harry said, getting a thick pile of folders and papers together.
"I'll walk you down there, since I have to give this stack of paperwork to him anyway," he added, handing Ron a thick pile of folders and papers. He groaned and kicked open the door on his way out, his hands being full, Harry following behind him.
"I think that bloke must have gone absolutely mad," he said as he walked alongside his friend. "The perfect retirement age for him came and went thirty years ago, and he's still here filing paperwork and recording things. The most amazing part is how he can get all his work done so quickly…"
"He's not that bad, actually," Harry said, shrugging as best he could with the heavy load in his hands.
"I thought so too when I first met him, but then he started yelling at me for making the door hinges squeak as I opened the door to walk out and I changed my mind. Did you know that he threatened to tell my mother about my 'bad behavior?' Chances are, she'd turn it into the family joke."
"Ickle Ronniekins misbehaved at work and had to sit in a corner for fifteen minutes. Ah, yes, I can see it all now," he said sarcastically, smirking.
"And even if he wasn't nutters, I'm sure he'd still be a grouch," said Ron, ignoring his friend's reply.
"You're right," he replied. "But I'm sure he has good reason to be so bitter all the time. You said so yourself that he's been here for longer than any human being should, working in a position that no one in his or her right mind would want to fill."
"True, but that's no excuse for shouting at me. Anyway, how long do we have to do this?"
"What, you mean sort out files and read through reports and things of that kind? Until we're ready to go into that Auror training program."
"How do they expect us to 'prepare' for an entire year? Sounds a bit dodgy to me... they probably just told us that to keep us out of the course until they can find instructors who'll baby us and teach us nothing."
"You know you don't really mean that."
"Of course I don't! Merlin, Harry, I'm just talking on and on to make sure it's not too quiet," he said cynically, with a hint of hysteria.
"Now who's the crazy one?" Harry muttered, shaking his head.
"What was that?" Ron said crisply.
"I said, 'We're here,'"
"Liar,"
"Well, we are here." He said, obviously amused. In front of them was a door with fading silver letters reading, "Official Ministry Records Office" on the cracked and filthy glass.
With a glance at Ron, he sighed and said reluctantly, "I'll open the door."
Placing a hand on the grimy brass doorknob, he slowly turned it until they heard a faint click, informing them that the door was now open. Sliding it open fully, but carefully, the door swung open to reveal a short white-haired wizard bent over his desk in concentration, looking from the paper beside his hand to the record on which he was writing. A small window behind the desk lit the room, and as they approached his desk, they heard him muttering incoherently as always, his charmed quill steadily writing for him as he, supposedly, dictated. Harry cleared his throat loudly and he looked up with a start, squinting to identify the two people in front of him despite the fact that he had his glasses on.
"Yes?" he said gruffly, looking less than pleased after he had shown a sign of recognition.
"We brought you those files, Fisher. The Vampire reports?" Ron said, a pitch louder than he usually spoke.
"Yes, yes, just set them down there," he said carelessly, waving his hand dismissively and returning to the piece of parchment.
"And here's the paperwork you wanted on last week's investigations for the disappearance of the Hunter family's heirlooms," Harry added in, placing his pile next to Ron's.
"Eh…" he said, waving his hand again. "Just don't slam the door on your way out."
"No problem," he said, watching as something crawled into the shadows before nudging Ron.
"Happy New Year," the Ron said, his mouth twitching slightly in apprehension as he saw a spider scuttle across the ceiling before he practically ran out of the office.
"Shut the door," was the disgruntled reply. Harry turned and walked towards the door, shaking his head as he caught a glimpse of a person with red hair quickly making his way down the hall, wondering what had gotten into him.
"Potter!" called a man from somewhere in the midst of a mass of cubicles.
He looked around wildly, finally seeing a man waving at him from a compartment five sections away from the end where he was standing. Smiling, he began walking towards his friend.
"Harvey," he said, acknowledging him with a nod once he had come within earshot.
"And how are you?"
"I'm all right, thanks. How about you?"
"Couldn't be better. You got the invitation for my party, right?"
"I'll be there 6:00 sharp."
"Great. I'll see you there."
Harry nodded again as he was clapped on the back heartily before walking back towards the small office that he and his friend occupied during the workday.
"Where were you?" asked Ron as he walked in.
"Harvey asked me if I was going to his party tomorrow. You're going too, aren't you?"
"Yeah. He already asked me if I was going to be there,"
"So, you're bringing Hermione, aren't you?" he said, sitting down in his squeaky revolving chair and leaning back, propping his feet on his desk.
"Yes," came the curt reply, as he blushed slightly.
"Ron?"
"Hmm?"
"You know, I've been thinking. Since you've been dating Hermione for about two years now, don't you think it's time to, you know?"
At this comment he turned crimson completely as he said, "What do you mean by that?"
"I meant that you should ask her to marry you." He said, smirking as he guessed what his friend had been thinking; a soft sound of realization followed by a look of embarrassment and timidity confirmed his suspicions.
"You know I don't think that way, Ron," he said calmly, still gazing intently at him. "Answer my question."
"I… don't know," he admitted. "I've been thinking about it for a while, but I'm not so sure we're both ready."
"You've been seeing each other for long enough, haven't you? Two years,"
"Yes, you've already said that."
"So…?"
He sighed. "I-I just want it to be perfect, you know? I know it sounds a bit stupid, but I want her to be completely certain about everything first, and then I want her to always remember and treasure how I proposed to her. I… I want her to be able to brag about how romantic it was…"
Harry struggled to catch the last part of Ron's confession, and, having understood everything said, he replied, "Look at it this way; all three of us have been accepted into that Auror training course. If you were married to her, it'd make everything ten times better."
"What about you? It's not as though you've got someone."
It was his turn to sigh. "Ron, life isn't perfect. I, of all people, should know that. I'll find someone if I find someone, and if I don't, I'll just accept it. You, however, need to focus on your own life. You and Hermione have known each other since you were eleven years old, and you're finally together. What you need to remember is to hold onto something this precious. Don't let it go. Never let it go."
"You think, that after seven years of learning that I had feelings for her and then working up the nerve to ask her on that first date I'll let her go?" Ron said wryly, smiling. "You'll see. When the time comes, you'll see."
"All right," said Harry, shrugging and grinning back. "I'm just saying, everyone's expecting you to ask her soon."
"I know that," he said, snorting. "Mum's been dropping hints for months now, saying how much she'd like to see me settled down, and talking about grandchildren, for heaven's sakes, Harry. Grandchildren! As if Percy and Bill hadn't provided her with enough already!"
"Mm… how many do they have?"
"Percy and Penelope have three, and Bill and his wife have four."
"Seven… a bit too few, if you're planning on starting your own army of Weasleys, which is, no doubt what your mother wants," he joked, taking his feet off of his desk as he saw Cornelius Fudge walking down the hallway. He waved to the Minister, who in turn nodded approvingly before walking on.
"Ha, ha, very funny," Ron said dryly, throwing his own chair's seat cushion at him, hitting his friend squarely in the face.
"Imagine the possibilities," Harry continued, keeping an eye on Fudge. "A Weasley invasion, redheads taking the world by storm and seizing each government one by one…"
"That's enough." He said firmly, shooting him a sideways warning look.
"Anyway, you really should ask her soon," he replied, switching back to their original conversation topic.
"Bloody hell!" Ron exploded. "I get the point! I'll start planning everything out now! Happy?"
"Very," he said, grinning widely and leaning back in his chair again as the Minister of Magic disappeared from sight.
A/N: You know what really bothers me? How I can feel so happy about having so many reviews one minute and then seeing other stories that have like, four chapters with 91 reviews. 91! Life sucks… but I'm glad I have faithful reviewers to see me through. I guess I'm having a moment here; having reviewers that stay with you for a long time mean a lot more than twenty that you just hear from once and then never again who never show you a single bit of encouragement when you need it the most after that one review. Thanks so much to you all for making life itself a little bit easier for me to bear. :-)
Now, with that out of the way, I have two questions. One, does anybody out there speak fluent German or knows someone who does? Because I need to translate something… two, which female character in the HP books do you think is the most insecure and most likely to have her parents, etc. order her around and obeying those orders? I'm looking for a character that isn't independent at all and doesn't have the guts to speak her own mind. I'm kind of thinking of one character at the moment, but I'm not sure about how easy it would be to write about her. Anyway, Happy New Year to everybody and thanks for all of your feedback and support! See ya in 2004!
