She realized they were heading towards Diagon Alley, and followed him as he ducked into The Leaky Cauldron. She had not been here in years.
"Harry!" the tall man behind the bar exclaimed as he dried off a pint glass by hand. "Good to see you, mate!"
It seemed that Potter knew him. He looked vaguely familiar, but she had no idea what his name was.
"Hey, Neville," Potter said, happily. "Give Hannah the night off?"
"She wasn't feeling so well, told her I could handle things tonight," he explained. "Who've you got with you?"
"Oh, right. Neville, this is Liv Wellwood, a colleague of mine from the Ministry."
"Nice to meet you," Liv said, extending her hand.
"Neville Longbottom. It's a pleasure," he said, warmly smiling at Liv. He was a friendly seeming bloke. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"Oh, a glass of Moscato would be lovely, thank you, Neville."
"And the usual for you, Harry?"
"That would be great." They took seats at the bar while Neville got their drinks together.
Liv noticed that Potter's drink seemed to just be a Firewhiskey cocktail.
"The couple in that booth across from the fireplace are just finishing up, if you want somewhere a little more private to sit," Neville informed them.
They waited for the couple to get up, before Neville charmed the table clean. Privacy sounded great to her.
They took the seats at the rather secluded booth, and she began fiddling with the small radio. She found the station broadcasting Ames' match, then turned it on low so she'd know if anything interesting happened.
"Still feeling crummy?" Potter asked.
"I've never felt like this before," she said, quietly, her eyes wide. "I just have all this energy pent up... like I want to fight someone."
"It's post-adrenaline crash," Potter explained. "I'll fight you. C'mon, let's spar."
Liv laughed. "You'd never lay a hand on me, Potter."
"You're right."
"And certainly not in public. Can you imagine what the Prophet would say about that?"
He just sighed, his bluff having been called.
"How do you usually deal with this?" She asked.
He shrugged. "Doesn't hit me as hard as it used to. Go for a stupidly long jog. Stay up all night reorganizing the junk in my house. A good shag. Long flights on my broom in extreme weather."
She didn't have anything like that. Well, Ames was always up for a shag, but that didn't appeal to her much at the moment. He could never understand what was going on in her head.
"So, torture yourself, basically," she said.
"If sex is torture, you're certainly dating the wrong bloke."
She blushed and finished her drink. Underneath the table, his knee brushed hers by accident, and she wondered if Potter would shag her, before she pushed that idea as far out of her head as it could go. It was the wine. And the adrenaline, surely. She was with Ames. She loved Ames.
Neville came over. "Refill?"
A flash of mischief lit up her eyes. She needed a distraction. "Actually, I'll take a shot of firewhiskey. Up for the challenge, Potter?"
He looked at her, amused. "You know what, sure. Make that two, Neville."
"Be right back with those for you."
"You certainly like your alcohol," Potter said.
"I enjoy my vices on occasion," she mused. "I can hold it, though, don't worry."
"I'm not," he said. "But let's order dinner, I'm starving."
She grabbed the menu and flipped through it. In general, she tried to eat balanced meals. There was nothing on this menu that would satisfy that, it was traditional pub fare. She thought she deserved it.
Neville came back, dropping off the firewhiskey and taking their dinner orders. Liv lifted her shot glass up and clinked it against Potter's, before downing it in one sip.
She enjoyed the pleasant burn of the liquor on the way down, feeling it warm it's way down to her stomach. She laughed when he couldn't help but shudder at the strength of the shot.
"Come here often?" she asked. "You seem to know the place pretty well."
"Neville's a good friend from school, I enjoy patronizing his and Hannah's business."
"Is that code for not being able to cook?"
"Well, my sandwiches certainly aren't up to your standards," he joked. "But I'm a good cook. I enjoy cooking... I just don't love cooking for one."
"Fair enough," she said. For a moment, she just savored the buzz she was gaining. She could feel the tension within her beginning to dissipate as she unwound with Potter. "How long's it been since the divorce?"
"Four years," he said. "But I'm sure you've read all about it in your tabloids."
"Oh yeah, big fan of Rita Skeeter's work," she joked. "It must be hard to fund your three kids by three different women in your bankruptcy."
He smiled. "Only one kid."
She looked confused. "Wait, really?"
"No!"
She couldn't help but laugh. "You can be an arse, Potter."
"So I've been told," he said. "You can call me Harry, y'know."
Before she responded, Neville was back to drop off their dinners and another glass of wine for Liv.
"This is delicious," she said, after diving into her shepherd's pie. It was rich and comforting, and exactly what she didn't know she needed.
"Yeah, the food here's top notch."
"It's better than my mum used to make it," she praised.
"That's a compliment?"
"It was one of the three things she knew who to make. Shepherd's pie, soup, and mac and cheese. And sometimes she'd try to combine them, that didn't work so well."
"No sandwiches?"
"Oh, no. I developed my sandwich making skills as a coping mechanism for her lack of talent in the kitchen," she explained between bites. "It's all about that meat to cheese ratio."
"Maybe you could teach me sometime."
She briefly wondered if he was flirting with her. But she didn't dwell on it. It had been far too long since she had been out to dinner and socializing. She found herself enjoying his company. It was taking her mind off work in a way she so desperately needed right now.
"Perhaps."
"For someone so stiff and difficult in the office, you've unwound a lot the last few weeks."
"I'm not there to make friends," she explained, pushing the last few bites of shepherd's pie around her plate.
"Because they go and have kids and forget about you?"
She chewed on the inside of her lip. He was entirely right, and they both knew it. "Something like that."
The Quidditch match had started, and Liv fiddled with the volume dial, turning it up just a click. As Neville passed by, he replaced her empty glass with a full one.
"How long have you been dating him?"
"Three and a bit years?" she guessed. "Living together for most of it."
"That's important."
"Yeah," she said.
Their chatter flowed freely. They discussed their mutual hatred of this year's crop of interns, how nutty Rutherford and Kensington had been in the debriefing earlier. Potter was very careful not to mention the case directly to her, though, not wanting to bring back the flood of tension and anxiety caused by it.
She realized she was on the borderline of being too drunk, so she considered moving her half full glass of wine further out of reach. But ultimately, she was happier and more carefree with every sip, and wanted to keep going. "I'm absolutely lapping you here in drinks."
He chuckled. "I can't even pretend I can keep up with you."
"C'mon, a few more drinks and you'll be ready for midnight karaoke down the block..."
"That sounds awful," he said.
"It'll sound a lot better in a drink or four," she suggested. "Don't you want to hear me sing Warbeck songs and muck up all the lyrics while some fools laugh at me?"
"Now that's a side of you I would not have been able to predict," he said.
"Oh I haven't done that in years. But I could, is what I'm saying."
"I'm positive you could."
Neville swung by at that moment. "Can I get you two anything else? Another glass of wine?"
"I think we're all set for the evening, Nev. Just the check will do."
Neville set it down, and walked away. As Liv reached for her coin purse, Potter made a noise at her. "I invited you out, I'll cover it."
"I insist," she argued.
"Don't worry about it, Wellwood. Consider it a thanks for letting me tag along on your scouts. I know you were never pleased by the idea of someone else coming along."
"You were fine," she said. "Much better than the last wanker they let sit in on scouts with me."
"Who'd that be?"
"Pierson Dunhill."
He made a face and she couldn't help but laugh. "Well, that's understandable. He's awful, off or on the field."
Potter left a generous tip on the table, then turned to her. "You ready to call it a night?"
She had just heard the game end on the radio, and decided it was a good time to go her own way. "Yeah."
She stood up, and all at once the alcohol hit her hard. She took a deep breath and braced herself against the wall.
"You alright?"
"I may have had more to drink than I thought," she said quietly. "I'm sure I'll be fine, just need to walk it off."
"If you apparate right now, you're going to splinch yourself."
"Who really needs ten toes anyways?"
"Here, I'll take you back to my place and we'll get you sobered up."
He saw vulnerability in her eyes. The vulnerability of a woman who had too much to drink who was unsure about going home with a far more sober man. He immediately backed off. "Or- just tell me where you live-"
"Sobering up sounds good," she said. "Thank you, Harry."
It sounded weird to call him by his first name, but she did it anyways. She was actually grateful.
"You okay to walk?" he asked. "The fresh air might do you some good."
She nodded, and took a deep breath. She felt her cheeks warm in embarrassment. He had truly gotten her to let her guard down.
"It's about ten minutes away," he said, once they had entered the Muggle part of London.
"Never would have guessed you lived with the Muggles."
"Oh, absolutely," he said. "And my wards are second to none."
"Cocky git," she said. They turned down Grimmauld Place, and she was slightly amazed at the intricate architecture. It made her modern apartment building look rather dumpy. They walked a few more blocks, before he stopped between two houses and took out his wand.
He nudged her to step forward, between the two houses, as he undid the wards and protections on the house. The charms on this house made McCain's house look barbaric. An extra stoop revealed itself to them, and she followed him up and into the house.
"Perhaps you were right," she said. "That was quite impressive."
The house was dimly lit, and a bit dusty. Far larger than any house she had been to in awhile, and there was so much character. "It's, well, not much..."
"The architecture is amazing," she said, running her fingers lightly over the intricately patterned wallpaper. She followed him into the kitchen. "It reminds me of this place my mum rented for us, the summer before Seventh Year, out in Surrey..."
"You grew up in Surrey too?"
"Well, parts of it," she said. "Mum moved us around a lot, but she really liked Surbiton."
He looked at her, hoping she would continue talking. When it was clear she caught herself and was not going to continue her thoughts, he moved to the stove.
"How about a cup of tea?" he asked, putting the kettle on. The kitchen was huge. It easily had enough room to hold thirty people. "Grab me two teacups from the cupboard."
She went over and examined all the intricate China, before selecting two teacups. "Are you related to the Blacks?"
"Oh, that was my godfather's," he said. "I inherited the house from him. I... haven't done much to the place."
"I couldn't tell," she said sarcastically. The entire house needed a good dusting, and maybe some new lighting fixtures...
"Sugar?"
"Just a cube, please."
"Cream?"
She made a face. "Not in tea."
He smiled. "I'm not a fan either," he said. "Let's go into the sitting room, much nicer in there."
Across the hall, it actually looked like he'd put some thought into the room. The furniture was new, the fireplace looked well-tended to, and there were even a few lamps. She got cozy on the couch, pulling a knit blanket over her legs. He sat on the other end of the couch, legs up on the table in front of them.
She took a moment to look at the few photos he had on the mantle. A photo of him at Ron and Hermione's wedding, hugging both his friends tightly. Another with him and a small boy, on the beach.
"My godson, Teddy."
"Ah," she said, taking a sip of tea as the room got spinny. It was too hot, but as sweet as she liked it.
"Perhaps you'll give me a real tea reading tonight?" He asked.
"I think that can be arranged," she said, figuring she owed him that much. "Your place is nice. It's cozy."
He shrugged. "It's fine for just me"
"Could use a dusting."
"You're probably right."
He finished the rest of the tea, then handed her his cup. She turned it slowly in her hands, studying the patterns of swirls in the leaves. She could already feel herself gaining some clarity. The night air and tea helped her regain her wits.
"Well, first of all," she said. "I see you the leaves say you need to cut back on the number of sugar cubes you put in your tea."
"They do not!" he said. "I thought you were going to give me a real reading this time."
"I'm being serious! It's right here in the leaves," she said, pointing to show him, but she couldn't keep the smile fully off her face.
"What else?" he asked.
She spun it once more, trying to decide between two different interpretations that the leaves were hinting. "You have an opportunity coming up in the next lunar cycle…"
"A good one?"
"Yeah," she said. "It's going to be a situation where you have a lot of influence, but it's going to be good for everyone involved."
"Interesting…" he said, peaking at the cup to see if he could get anything out of there.
"An acquaintance of yours is ill, but hasn't told you yet," she said. "It doesn't look like they're going to die, just struggle for a bit before getting back on their feet again."
"Oh, swell," he said. "Let me have a go at yours."
She finished her tea, and handed him the cup. He looked at it intently, studying it as he turned it slowly in his hands. "I see…"
He trailed off, but kept spinning. "Fuck, I haven't done this since Third Year. I've no idea what I'm looking at."
She laughed and grabbed it from him. "I think it says that I'm very grateful for your company and hospitality this evening, but it's getting late and I should probably head home."
"With all your limbs?" he asked. "And toes?"
"Yeah, I'm good to travel now," she said, standing up and stretching. She took their cups into the kitchen and charmed them to wash themselves. "Thanks for inviting me out. I needed that."
"Me too," he said, looking down at his feet. "Well, have a good night, Wellwood."
"You can call me Liv," she said, grasping the door handle in her right hand. "Good night."
She stepped outside to apparate home. The exhaustion hit her once she had slipped her shoes off and placed them by the door. From the pile of Quidditch gear strewn across the living room, she figured Ames was home. She peaked in the bedroom and saw his form under the blanket, snoring away, so she slipped off her clothes and crawled in bed beside him.
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and PMed me about this story so far. I really appreciate all the feedback! Evergreen gratitude to my awesome beta, potter-reading-coastie. I'll be back with the next installment of Liv's story on Wednesday morning, but in the meantime, I'd be super grateful if you left a comment telling me what you think so far!