Barnton was a small magical community in the North-West. There were hundreds of these in the country, completely invisible to muggle eyes. And whenever a wizard or witch came into the muggle town they would just be from 'down the road a ways'. As the two men around their thirties entered the village, they looked around.
The streets were moderately busy, and up ahead was a sort of pub or tavern, which they entered. Once inside it was easy to realize what went on. It was mostly populated by men in their late twenties and up, having a drink, and at the bar were a number of witches dressed to catch the eye of any visitors. He motioned to his partner, who had taken the uninspired name 'John Wesker' to sit at one of the tables.
"Looks lively," the brown haired man said.
"It does," 'Jack Lambert' answered. "The things you miss out on staying in the right circles."
A blonde witch with a rose red corset came to their table, her assets on full display. "Can I get you gentlemen anything? Wine, whiskey, brandy, gigglewater?"
"Whatever you have on tap," Jack said.
"Same."
With a wink, she went over to serve some other customers.
"Working girls?" John said, nodding over to the bar.
"Likely. How do you want to go about this?"
He lightly shrugged in response. They got their beers and drank. After a while, Jack spotted two younger men looking fairly drunk and unguarded. He nudged John in the elbow.
"Let's go mingle."
They went over and Jack introduced himself.
"Hey fellows, do you mind if we sit here. Buy you a drink?"
One of them, a wizard with shoulder length brown hair, nodded hazily. "Sure thing, lads. Where'r you from?"
"London," John said.
Their cover was being two employees from the Department of Transportation. No one ever visited the Department of Transportation, and they were dreadful with complaints, so no one would come looking. They chatted for a while, about quidditch mostly. What else did young wizards talk about?
"First time here?" the other blonde one asked.
"Yeah," Jack said, "could you tell?"
"You can always spot the fresh ones," he said with a creepy smile. "Lefty's 's a decent place," he continued, talking about the bar. "Got rooms upstairs they rent out for two sickles an hour, always clean. Bit of a mixed bag with the girls, but you'll get to know the regulars."
"There's others?" John asked.
"Aye," the other one answered. "Got the Frilly down the road, bit too dreary if you ask me. Best place though? Pixie Lounge, no question, but you better lay out the galleons. Bloody expensive."
"Well, cheers," John said.
They left the establishment half an hour later, having paid for a few more drinks.
"I feel like I need a shower," John said.
Jack felt like he needed a lobotomy. Those two wizards were dull as dishwater. "I still want to check out the Pixie Lounge," he said.
"Shite," John exclaimed. "I don't know if I'm in the right headspace."
"It's fine, just go home."
"Thanks, mate." They stood in the open streets for a while, getting some fresh air. "What do you figure, few hundred inhabitants tops. How many girls? There must be hardly any families still living here. Just one big home for debauchery."
"It's one big open secret," Jack replied. "I wouldn't be surprised if many big wigs had regular visits as well, using polyjuice like us of course."
"Do you think the girls use it, polyjuice?"
Jack looked back at him with a frown. "It's expensive, so I doubt it would be common, but..."
"I get it. Listen, I'm heading off. You try and keep your head straight."
"I will," he said with a wave.
Jack stood in the cool night air watching the passers-by for some time. Most of them were witches, but there were others. Wizards were working the streets as well, although he had serious doubts about their magical prowess, at least with their own wand. But this was good, just the kind of thing to help their cause. And there was an air about the place. They were just scratching the surface.
He didn't want to keep her waiting, and apparated back. As he did she dropped the book she was reading and jumped up from her chair, handing him a vial. He drank it, and felt his features shift back into more familiar ones.
"Much better," she said with a grin. "What did you find out?"
"It's big. The way things are I'm starting to wonder if we don't have some bent ones in the department. Alfred doesn't have the stomach for it, I'll take Mathilda next time."
"But we can build a platform on it?"
He tossed his robes and jacket on the couch. "Yes, I'll say. But I've been thinking. If we're going to enter the big leagues we could use leverage."
"Leverage?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"I need more time, to dig up dirt. And I need a shower."
She took both his hands in hers, and for what seemed like the hundredth time since his accident, she made him feel something more. He held his breath.
"Thank you, for doing this for us."
"It'll be worth it," he answered.
She sighed wistfully, rubbing the back of his hands. "I could… I could stay a while longer," she whispered.
"What about Ron? Ginny told me, that he was having trouble."
"It's not him that's having trouble. I just don't feel any… real connection any more. It's not the same, not that there weren't any problems before, but it's different. Harry, how do you think you'll do with Ginny?"
"Well," he started, "I know what she wants."
"And what? You just give it to her?"
"Just enough, for as long as I have to."
-M-
With Hogwarts empty of students, the Wheezes were a favourite spot, especially at the end of July. Friendly, fun and safe – but not too safe, it might as well be their motto. But today more than children ages eleven to seventeen were present. A group of parents were huddled around the large wireless, tuned into Willowa Maxima's talk wireless program.
Reason being the very anticipated interview with two rising stars, for a purported grand announcement. Ron didn't exactly know what it was. His wife had been running to Grimmauld on a nightly basis in preparation. The wife who was still sleeping in the separate room in his apartment. More than one time he wanted to floo over. But then he wondered if he still had access to the manor. And then he wondered if he wanted to find out.
She had changed, he thought as he filled the candy floss machine.
"Take a second to listen, little brother."
George on the other hand, had gained back some cheer since Harry and Hermione had woken up.
"I'll get the story anyway," Ron answered.
"And miss all the fun? Come on, I've put up some chairs."
"Fine," Ron said, standing up, "but forget the bloody chairs, someone has to look after the shop."
As he approached the wireless playing a catchy tune, many were already gossiping.
"– think it has something to do with their health?"
"Margy, no, they looked in perfect health at their press conference. And the pictures from Witch Weekly, can't be."
"Then what, another crisis?"
"Oh you don't follow anything!" a third woman said. "Potter will run for the Lordship seat, he's legally a Black, you know?"
"How does that work anyway? And isn't that too… you know, pureblood-like?"
"They were wanting to abolish that before, don't you remember? Wouldn't it be ironic, Harry Potter working from within to end the twenty-eight's guaranteed seats?"
"Well, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but aren't they a bit young for that?"
"Shh! It's starting."
Ron stood between two aisles, watching the children mill about while the adults listened. He'd like to have said he wasn't attentive, but his ears heated up as the broadcast jingle started.
Welcome, wizards, witches and whatnot to Willowa Maxima's wonderful weekly wireless. Today starring in our splendid show is none other than two sensational souls, scions of society. My pleasure to introduce for the first time here, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. Good to have you.
Hermione: Our pleasure.
Harry: Thank you for having us.
Before anything else, I must impress on our listeners that Mr. Potter is looking back with his resplendent green eyes lacking his usual spectacles. You did not lose them on the way here?
Harry: (laughs) No, Willowa, I didn't. I just don't need them any more.
Hermione: There's such a muggle invention as contacts, a lens you put on your eye. I was the one who convinced Harry to try them.
And this is entirely safe, you say?
Hermione: It is. Some people experience some discomfort, but that hasn't been the case, Harry told me.
Well, I'm certain fans all around Magical Britain will be thrilled to snatch that first picture from the shelves tomorrow when our written article is published in the Sunday Prophet, if you are still amenable to that.
Harry: Yes, that's no problem.
Exciting, how exciting. But of course we are here for more than looks. We are here for your grand announcement. An announcement many a witch and wizard have speculated on since yesterday. And to our listeners, I, Willowa Maxima, have no more knowledge of it than anyone else! How expectantly exciting! Do go ahead!
Harry: Before we do, I want to provide some context to that. Waking up with eight months of time missing can be a wake up call more than in a literal sense. I think it's no secret that little has happened to better Magical Britain since then. If anything, things have gotten worse.
Hermione: When I joined the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as an assistant to the Director's office, there were many ideas starting to take form, which we were going to expand on with the help of Director Fuller and the Auror's Office. We were very disappointed to see many of those initiatives were either tabled or rejected.
Harry: Which is why going forward we both would like to take a more active role in that, which we can't achieve just standing by.
Hermione: In other words, we would like to announce our joint run for the Wizengamot. With me running for a public seat, and Harry running for the Lord's position.
Inside the shop clamour broke the silent listening to the wireless. Children stopped their treasure hunt for favourite Wheezes products to look over to the arguing, cheering and excited parents. Outside even, the shouts of victory of a fight not yet won came from a group of younger wizards and witches, holding a portable wireless.
"All right everyone," George piped up, "interview's not over yet."
He came to stand next to Ron. "Bloody hell, can you believe it?"
"I guess," Ron answered.
With the noise calming down, the crowd was once again fixated on the wireless.
– that we must admit, this is a welcome surprise. However Willowa Maxima does not pull her punches and is also here to ask the important questions. It seems very sudden. What do you say to this being an ill-prepared and impulsive undertaking? Will we see you give up on a position that in your case, Mr. Potter, is a life-long commitment?
Harry: I can see why that would be a concern. Which is why I've made it clear to the Auror Department that I won't be accepting any further promotions.
A long silence followed on the wireless.
Mr. Potter, does this mean there will be no news of you getting promoted to Captain?
Harry: That's correct.
That's... quite a commitment.
Hermione: If I may interject, I want to remind everyone that Harry isn't lacking in commitment in any way. In fact I find it a bit insulting that anyone would think that, not targeting you in particular Willowa. Harry was the one who saw the danger in Voldemort and risked his life and reputation to fight him, since we were eleven. That's our commitment.
(Willowa laughs) I think we can put the question of your confidence in Mr. Potter aside for now. Moving forward, your main opponent, Harry, will be Nicholas McMillan. A staunch supporter of the pro-muggle movement and advocate for more protection of muggles and further inclusion of muggle-borns. Will your campaign have a similar platform?
Harry: Actually, Willowa, my concern is for our magical population first and foremost, regardless of their birth status.
That is surprising. Are you saying you would drop your pro-muggle stance?
Hermione: What we're saying is there are more pressing matters than furthering the pro-muggle cause in an already pro-muggle government.
Please, do elaborate!
Harry: How much do you know about Barnton, Willowa?
Ron frowned. As the interview continued, every visage in the Wheezes went pale, uncomfortable. Thousands of wizards and witches were listening. There was no way to put the genie back in the bottle, Barnton synonymous with prostitution was a virus spreading rapidly in the mind of every voting age wizard and witch.
"George?"
The elder brother was standing motionless, vacantly staring ahead.
"Hey, George!"
Like taken out of a trance, he looked back, plastering something between a smile and a grimace on his face.
"Yeah, what's up?"
"You all right?"
"Yeah," he said, shaking his head. "Yeah. Let's put all our Potter and Granger merch on display, shall we?"
She came back late again that Saturday evening. Happy, glowing, nothing like when she spent any time at home. She got a sandwich as a snack. The way she showed to have an appetite cut his own.
"So what do you think?" she asked with a smile.
"What do I think?" He watched her merrily nibble at her sandwich, as if she hadn't just thrown a pile of shit over the heads of collective Magical Britain. "You'll have everyone talking about that interview for months."
"That was the idea," she said with a chuckle.
"But it's true then, all of it?"
"All of it?" she laughed. "Ronald, that's not even close to being all of it."
She levitated her empty plate to the kitchen and turned back to him. "I was late because I was with Harry and Owen. He's our consultant for the election. We talked strategy and celebrated a bit, a few drinks. It's looking really good. Ron, I really need your support for this."
"Sure," Ron said with a shake of his head. "Sure, you have it."
"I'm going to bed," she said with a sigh. "I'm exhausted."
"Alone?"
"Sorry, Ron. I need some more time."
He nodded and she left to the bathroom. He didn't want to argue, that was a lost cause. In fact none of the things that used to make their marriage work, worked any more. He said something to rile her up, and he got nothing; a scornful look and complete dismissal. Gone were the days when he could get under her skin. That was their relationship, how they had always worked. It was like she had become a different person. Dinner at the Burrow tomorrow, to celebrate their announcement, he wasn't looking forward to it.
-M-
That Molly could throw a party was no surprise, and that she could throw an even bigger party with the help of the Weasley clan and all their friends was only natural. Nice weather meant tables had been placed outside, with a tent for those looking for respite from the sun. In a way this doubled as Harry's birthday party, being two days away, an unspoken agreement.
The two heroes of the day stood at the centre of it all. And it was hard to miss the fact that Harry's already mesmerizing green eyes were unblemished by glasses. Yet no one caught his eye more readily than Hermione, even thought they were surrounded by life-long friends.
"W're real proud of ye both," Hagrid bellowed. "Fin'ly someone steppin' up ter do the right thing. Dumbledore'd be proud."
They smiled at the half-giant's heartfelt but unassuming comment. In fact everyone had been skirting around the subject. They were much too glad to heap praise on the two.
Praise that while welcome, was also overwhelming for the smartly dressed candidate to the Wizengamot. She had worn a scintillating dark green blouse for the occasion, to look good for the both of them. And to look good for him as well. Which was why she would have preferred a more private celebration.
"It's going to be a busy couple months for us," she said to Neville.
"I bet. It was kind of a surprise to everyone."
"You've talked to professor McGonagall?" she asked excitedly.
"She said she didn't expect any less from two troublemakers," he laughed.
"I guess after Gringotts," Harry interjected, "that reputation is never leaving us. How is your apprenticeship?"
"It's coming along great. Everyone sends their regards by the way, McGonagall is busy preparing for the new school year, she says you should come by some time."
"Maybe it's a good idea," Ginny said. "I haven't been back in a while either."
"Slughorn still writes?" Harry asked.
"Of course he does," Ginny laughed. "I sent him tickets a few months ago, just to give him something to brag about."
"Well he'll have plenty to brag about now," Harry said with a smirk to Hermione.
Nobody had spotted the blonde witch's arrival, dancing through the crowd to make her way. She came to a rest face to face with Hermione, her large eyes bulging at her. "Congratulations!" she said loudly.
"Did you portkey over from Finland to make it?" Ron asked.
"I did," Luna responded, not blinking or moving to look elsewhere. "I'm really glad someone finally exposed what is happening. The Quibbler had two articles in the last five editions about the Barnton whorehouses."
Several guests choked on their drinks. Hermione had never been fully comfortable interacting with Luna, but her comment was a welcome break from monotony.
"It was only after the fact, but I did in fact read those articles," Hermione answered.
"More like I forced you to," Harry said quietly.
Neville, once cowardly, was now easing into the matter. "So it's really a big problem then? I barely move away from Scotland lately, but it's surprising it's been covered up for so long."
"Yeah, Nev, it is," Harry answered. "It's a mixed problem. A lot of people down on their luck being taken advantage of."
"Well it's good you're running."
Dinner was served. Talk went to other things, nostalgic rambling and gossip. Ron had been looking for a chance to catch Ginny alone. No, he didn't look forward to cornering her, but she might know, being married to Harry. He got his opportunity when she went off to get a beer from the kitchen.
"Ginny."
She turned back with a frown and derisive expression. "Oh, it's you." She couldn't be more dismissive if she tried.
"I have to talk to you."
"About?" she asked, shifting her weight impatiently.
"Look, don't pretend I'm the only one to notice. Harry and Hermione? They're different, so much that I barely recognize them."
"Different." She rolled her eyes. "Are you sure it's not you who's different?"
"Yeah, I'm bloody sure!" he spat. "And they're spending almost every evening together, you tell me that doesn't have you worried?"
"They've been preparing to run for office," she said slowly, as if talking to a small child.
He scoffed. "Of course you'd think I'm crazy."
"As I remember it, it was always Harry who was thought crazy," she said, crossing her arms. "I see what this is about. This is about your marital problems, you feeling inadequate again? Hermione's doing this great thing and all you can think of is how it will affect you. It's no wonder you think you're losing her."
"She's the one who's ignoring me!"
"Have you tried being supportive?" She snorted and bumped her way past him. "For once in your life try to realize that the world doesn't revolve around the needs of Ronald Bloody Weasley."
Ron stood there in the coolness of the kitchen. And he knew he wasn't crazy. Nine months ago, he had two close friends, one of which he was married to. Now, he had lost that. It wasn't his fault. Something was happening and he would get to the bottom of it. Before it was too late.
