Dominique's eyes glazed over as she stared at the computer screen in front of her. Lysander had somehow secured a copy of Bomsnox's financial statement for the last two years and was having her scroll through it. No matter what angle she considered the sheet from, it wasn't revealing any of its secrets.
She watched as all around her, even the night-shift staff at the Prophet office packed up and headed home. At one time, it had been a novelty to watch the producing crew put together the final stages of the next day's issue. Now it was her reward for staying at the office way too late once again.
The clock read out a bleary 2:00 a.m., and she withheld a groan. This was the investigative-journalism life. If that was what she wanted as her career, long nights were just part of the territory.
A moment later, Lysander strode down the aisle toward her tiny desk with his jacket on his arm, looking as wide awake as ever, ready for anything. "How's it going over here?"
She shrugged up at him. "Unless you count way too many trips to the Leaky Cauldron as a crime, he's clean as my Grandma Weasley."
Lysander gave her a puzzled stare. "So is that clean?"
Dom rolled her eyes. "I thought you'd get the analogy. Although I suppose the odds are high that my Gran has some skeletons in her closet that I'd rather not know about..." Her voice trailed off. "Anyway. Point is, there's not much in these records."
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his navy dress pants. "Scoot over." Rounding the corner and pushing aside some papers, he settled onto the edge of her desk and peered at the screen over her shoulder.
She could smell the spicy scent of his usual cologne; she'd never gotten close enough before to smell it so strongly. But somehow it wasn't overpowering. It seemed to fit him perfectly.
Lysander's hazel eyes scanned the page quickly. "He goes to quite a few Quidditch games," he muttered. "Didn't you say he was seen at a game just before we broke our first story?"
"That was the rumor," Dom offered. "But we never got proof of that."
He pursed his lips, shoulder bumping against hers as he leaned back from the computer. "I think it's time we pay a visit to the Leaky Cauldron."
Surely he can't mean right now…
Lysander pushed off the edge of the desk and stood straight, tugging down the sleeves of his jacket. "Ready?"
As much as she wanted to complain, she wouldn't let herself. She and Lysander had been working together more and more like a team, hardly even bickering, and she wasn't about to ruin that just because she wanted to go to sleep. "Let's go."
Moments later, they had Apparated to the street in London where the Diagon Alley entrance was located. Tapping the bricks smartly, Lysander walked ahead of her through the witches and wizards who milled along the street. Diagon Alley wasn't exactly known for its night life, but a different type of crowd populated its shops once it got late.
The two journalists walked quietly down the street, Dominique feeling as if she might fall asleep on her feet at any moment. Lysander was showing no signs of weariness. He looked just as bright-eyed as he always did, when he showed up to the office every day at six in the morning.
As they passed Flourish and Blotts, Dom's heart thudded to a stop. In the shadows of the front step, a couple was pressed up against the window. A turquoise head of hair bent over a slim, blonde figure, the two kissing passionately.
Dom ceased walking without even realizing that she had stopped, her feet planted firmly to the sidewalk as her eyes stayed glued to the scene as if she'd been Petrified.
"Dominique?" Lysander's voice drifted back to her from up ahead.
The turquoise head snapped up, and the fluorescent light from the nearby streetlamp illumined Teddy's gray eyes. "Dom! What're you doing here?"
Victoire's mouth dropped open the slightest bit. She didn't say a word.
Lysander glanced from Dominnique to Teddy and back, but didn't speak.
Dom knew her face must be registering an unpleasant mix of shock and disgust, but she couldn't even force the tiniest smile. It had been so long since she'd seen the two of them together like that. If she'd had to guess, she would've thought she could handle it, but it turned out she would've been wrong.
"Dom?" Teddy called out to her again, leaving Victoire in the shadows and walking towards Dominique. "Why're you here?"
"She's on an assignment with me," Lysander finally spoke up, returning to her side. "Lupin, right?" He held out a hand to Teddy.
Leave it to Lysander to be polite in this ridiculous situation, Dom thought darkly, though she was the slightest bit grateful for her partner's poise.
Teddy ignored the outstretched hand. "You okay, Dom?"
She forced herself to nod. "I'm fine. We have to go. We're working on a story." Feeling Lysander's hand press into the small of her back, she let him propel her away from Teddy and her sister, her stomach churning. Victoire still hadn't so much as smiled.
The dim, quiet glow of the Leaky Cauldron welcomed them into its embrace, hushed chatter from all sides enveloping them. Lysander ushered her to a booth in the corner and gently pushed her onto the seat. "Wait there," he instructed.
A moment later, he reappeared and placed a substantial glass of Firewhiskey on the table in front of her. He sank onto the seat across from her and crossed his arms. "Drink up."
Dom's gaze flickered down at it and back up to meet his eyes. "You want me to drink that?"
He gave a quick nod. "Yep."
"We're on the job!" she exclaimed. Her bright blue eyes were wide. What had happened to proper, straight-laced Lysander?
He checked his leather watch. "I'm pretty sure you're off the clock at 10pm. It's almost three o'clock in the morning. Go on." He gestured to the glass.
For a moment, Dominique considered whether or not this could be some kind of trick. Maybe he wanted to force her to do something terrible so he'd have a reason to get her pulled off the story. But that was crazy…if he had wanted to get rid of her, Cuffe would've made that easy enough. Lysander was the one who had stuck up for her, who at some point had changed his mind and decided he wanted her working with him, at least enough to risk his own neck over it. She took a tentative sip.
Lysander let out a huge guffaw. "That's not how you drink Firewhiskey!" He snatched the glass from her hand and took a massive swig. "Do it like that," he ordered, voice not in the least affected by having just swallowed the burning liquid.
Dom made a face but obeyed, pulling down a large drag of the drink. It scalded her throat on the way down but somehow it felt better than the emptiness inside of her. "Who is it we need to talk to here?"
He shrugged. "The barkeep. I'll ask him if he's seen Bomsnox around lately. The guy had a ton of bills racked up for this place."
"Let me help you," she offered, shuffling a little in her seat.
Lysander shook his head. "Nah, I've got it covered. Stay there. I'll go ask a few questions, and when I get back, that glass had better be empty."
As she watched his retreating back, Dom took another small sip of the cup. She cursed herself for being so easily affected by Teddy and Victoire. They had been dating on and off since her 4th year, why did it still suck the air out of her lungs every time she saw them kissing? She simply had to get over this. It was past the point of ridiculous and had become pathetic. She took another gulp.
A few minutes later, Lysander strode back to the table and plunked two more glasses of Firewhiskey down. "You finished it!" he exclaimed.
Dom's eyes followed his gaze, slowly glancing down at the glass she still held in her hand. He was right; it was empty. She hadn't even noticed when she finished it. "I really don't need any more," Dom insisted, eyeing the new glass in front of her warily.
"I think you do." Lysander nudged it across the table closer to her. He didn't say anything about his trip to the bar, but Dom was sure he had gotten whatever information he had gone to find. He always did.
Chewing her lip, she reached for the second glass and took another sip. She half expected him to ask why she was behaving like such a loon, but an easy silence remained over them as she stared into the depths of the cup.
After a long while, Lysander loosened the knot of his tie and met her gaze. "That was your sister?"
Dominique nodded slowly, finger tracing the rim of her glass.
Lysander considered her thoughtfully. "You two don't get along." It was a statement, not a question.
It was the first time he'd openly acknowledged that they had gone to school together. Dom wondered bitterly if he remembered the way he had always treated her. She took another swig.
"And that's probably because of Lupin," he added in a quiet voice, hazel eyes still trying to meet her gaze.
She let him look at her, not sure how he had figured that out so quickly. They weren't even friends, just partners, and he could somehow read her like a book. "That easy to tell?" she asked in a whisper.
Lysander shrugged. " "I remember a few things from Hogwarts." He leaned across the table, cupping his glass in his big hands. "Look, I'm not trying to make you talk about anything. Just saying I understand."
"I'm not sure you do." She surprised herself with her honesty. There was so much more she wanted to say, about those days when they had been young together. About how much had changed since then. I need to stop drinking right now, Dom told herself forcefully.
He narrowed his eyes the way he always did when he was challenged. "No?" He looked away from her then, gaze drifting over the odd people who straggled through the bar. "My mum is the editor of The Quibbler. She'd never hate me, but my brother sure as hell does. Neither of them like that I work for the Prophet, let alone that I'm doing so well. They think if I'm going to be a success, I've got to be their success."
Dom swallowed, angry at herself for never stopping to consider that he likely had his own problems. "I–"
Lysander held up a hand, stopping her. "It's fine. I get along with them some of the time, there's no murder being plotted." He grinned at that. "And it sure as hell beats being in love with my sister's boyfriend."
Her gut twisted. How had he known? She gulped down the last of her glass, the hot trail burning away all feeling of sadness.
He slid his half-empty glass across the table at her. "Finish mine."
Dom's eyes went wide. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get me drunk."
Lysander flashed a cocky half smile. "Who says I'm not?"
She stared down at the glass and told herself firmly that she wasn't going to touch it. Proper girls didn't drink with men — let alone work colleagues — at three in the morning in sketchy bars.
"You need it." His tone was sincere.
Dom pushed her bangs from her eyes and considered his face thoughtfully. He had the most piercing eyes she'd ever seen. It was as if their hazel gaze could see anything. A straight nose, sharp cheekbones. Thin lips. And a bright, cocky smile that seemed to always be on his face. He was handsome. She took a long swallow of his Firewhiskey. "I'm not in love with him you know," Dom said suddenly, staring down into the amber liquid.
"No?"
She shook her head. "He used to be my best friend. But he proved a long time ago that Vicky's charms are more his style…" Her voice trailed off. "I've never been the pretty one."
What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Dominique? she shrieked at herself internally. Opening up to Lysander? Lysander Scamander, of all people? But she found she didn't even care. Must be the Firewhiskey.
Dominique's eyes flicked up briefly and found him looking right back at her, face pensive.
"I think you're pretty."
She could feel her mouth open into a small "o" at his words. She had to have imagined it.
But he had a kind smile on his face, nothing like his usual, self-confident grin. His gaze traced her face, meeting her eyes, settling on her lips. "Let me get you home."
"Home?" she exclaimed, mind racing. "No, no, no. I don't think so. I, uh…we work together!"
Lysander let out another of his huge, deep laughs, the ones that only seemed to escape by accident. "Dominique, I meant your home."
A heated blush rushed into her cheeks. "Oh. Right," she said meekly, letting him pull her to her feet.
He tugged her through the Leaky Cauldron and onto the street, out of Diagon Alley. "What's your address?"
Through the fog in her mind, she told him the address. He gripped her hand and Apparated. They stood in front of her flat, the cheery red door greeting them.
"You didn't have to bring me back," she whispered, looking up at him in the glow of the street light.
He grinned. "I got you drunk, so I figured getting you home safely was my responsibility."
"I'm not drunk!" she exclaimed hurriedly, trying to hit his arm in outrage.
He caught her wrist with ease. "Of course not. You okay to get to bed yourself?"
Dom's face colored once more. "I think I can manage that."
"You're sure? I'd be happy to help."
He was just flirting with her, he didn't mean it. "I'll be fine. Thanks for getting me back."
Lysander shrugged, pushing his hands into his pockets once more. "You got it." He turned away.
"And I can't believe I'm saying this, but thanks for getting me drunk." The words tumbled out before she could stop them. "You were right. I needed it."
He smiled, a small, genuine smile. "Of course."
Dominique let herself into her flat and sank against the door the moment it had closed. She was sure that when she woke up, it would all have been a dream.
