Opening Shop

Free for the weekend, the Hogwarts students headed in droves for Hogsmeade. Fortunately (or unfortunately for some), today was Valentine's Day; love was in the air, and Ron felt like he may have well have been playing Quidditch without a broom.

"Harry…" Ron whispered. "I can't do this!"

Harry took one look at his friend and then called ahead to Hermione, "We'll catch up to you in a bit!" At her dubious look, he added, "Left something back at the castle!"

Hermione rolled her eyes but complied, even speeding up her stride to get further away from them. She was certain she knew what was going on with the boys.

Once they had fallen sufficiently behind, Harry looked at Ron. "Alright there?" he asked his friend.

"No mate, not at all." In fact, Ron looked a little green around the gills. "Remember that time we tackled that troll, first year?"

"Yeah…go on."

Ron wiped his face from where he was starting to sweat. "I'm…feeling a bit like that."

Harry shook his head and tried not to laugh at him. "Ron, you've practically been dating Hermione for the past two years…why are you so nervous now? It's just another day on the calendar!"

Ron looked at Harry with horror. "Just another day? Just another day?! It's not just another day! I'll have you know that a witch expects more from her bloke on Valentine's Day than she does any other day of the year." Ron pulled Harry close enough that he could whisper in his ear. "Remember last year?" he hissed.

Oh, Harry remembered last year, he remembered it quite well. The three of them had spent the entire holiday in the Hospital Wing, care of Fred and George. The twins had given their brother some cologne they guaranteed would entice any witch he used it around, and Ron, being desperate as he was, put it on without a second thought. His brothers had conveniently left out the fact that it was still in the 'experimental stages,' so in retrospect, Harry found it no surprise that it had quite the opposite effect.

Ron had come out of the experience scot-free, but Hermione had broken out in hives so badly that Snape had to brew her an extra-strength dose of the allergy salve Pomfrey had given her so that her hives would disappear in time for class the next day.

Needless to say, that was a Valentine's Day to live on in infamy, and one that Ron would never live down amongst their fellow Gryffindors. Harry had not been involved in the incident, but had spent as much time in the wing with Hermione as possible, before Madam Pomfrey had chased him and Ron out.

After that, Hermione hadn't talked with any of the Weasley brothers for an entire week.

Harry gave Ron a grim look.

"Exactly," Ron responded.

They started walking again. "Now you see why today has to be perfect!" Ron ran a hand through his red hair in agitation.

"Look, if it's any help, I'll walk you to Puddifoot's, but I'm not going in." Harry was adamant on this point. "This is supposed to be your and Hermione's special day, and I don't want to feel like a third wheel."

"Oh come on, Harry; I'm sure she won't mind much…"

"No, Ron."

"Please?"

Harry stopped walking. "Do you think things will go better with or without me there?"

"With?"

"Ron!" Harry couldn't believe Ron had said that.

"What?"

"It's Hermione, Ron. You're just going on a date with your girlfriend. The girl we've been best friends with since first year. I mean, it's not like Snape's going to be in there staring you down."

Ron shook his head before giving in. "Yeah, you're right. I'm just nervous, you know? I want things to go well."

oOoOoOo

Remind me to kill Albus for forcing me into this. It was bad enough that I had to be in Puddifoot's, but to be there on Valentine's Day?! As it was, I had spent nearly an hour deciding whether I should walk to Hogsmeade and then change, or if I should Disapparate away, and then Apparate into town so as not to be seen coming from Hogwarts.

After I had paced repeatedly across my sitting room, I came to the realization that I could Floo as easily as I could walk anywhere…and Albus owed me. I placed all of my things into a black bag, slung it over my shoulder, and walked up to the Headmaster's office. If he wanted me in Hogsmeade, he had to get me there himself.

A few pointed looks and well placed sneers later, I had received free reign to Floo in and out of the castle through Albus' office. While in his office, I changed into my red robes (that Albus had purchased—not I) as I refused to dress in trousers like a Muggle, and donned the ring. As for the apron, I stuffed it into my pocket; even though I was now Gerard Puddifoot, I still had some pride, and refused to walk across the village with that revolting apron tied around my waist.

Once I felt the transformation had ceased, I stepped through the Floo and into the Hog's Head. Aberforth had known to expect someone to come in by Floo, as Albus had spoken to him moments before, but I was confident that he had no idea who I truly was.

With a nod to the bartender, I left the Hog's Head and made for the other end of Hogsmeade. The air felt chillier to my trimmed head, and I raised my hand to habitually push my hair out of my face to find…that it wasn't there. Brilliant deduction, I told myself. I walked through the town, a pleasant smile plastered on my face, thoroughly ignoring the students as they ran helter-skelter all over the place, and made a mental catalogue of all that I would have to remember.

First, I effectively had no hair, and should refrain from trying to hide behind it. Secondly, I was to be a 'friendly chap,' and refrain from sneering at the customers. Thirdly, I should avoid fiddling with my ring; as I never wore rings, it felt completely absurd on my finger. Also, I had no idea what the Dark Lord would look like, nor the personality he would employ (though I could only imagine). Furthermore, I should prepare everything per my instructions…even if it made my no-longer-pale skin turn a nauseous green.

Luckily, Madam Puddifoot's did not open shop until 10:30, and as it was only 9:00, I had plenty of time to get there, and situate myself…and perhaps down a few anti-nausea droughts while I was at it.

I entered the shop and everything was worse than I remembered it being. Knickknacks and various bric-a-brac covered every shelf-like surface, with gobs of lace covering everything in the form of curtains and tablecloths. The walls were plastered with patterned wallpaper of pink so dark that it was nearly red, and wait…Were those little hearts imprinted all over the paper? Good gods, they were! Candles also sat on every last one of the round tables in the room, along with a vases containing single rose blooms enspelled to never fade. To top it all, there were even little floating cupids that I was sure were enspelled to scatter rose petals. I looked around for convenient corners to hide in, and tried to scout out the area that the Dark Lord would more than likely sit at.

Ah, this looks like a good choice. There was a round table in the corner by the kitchen, and semi-blocked by the pillars holding up the first floor. The Dark Lord would be able to see anyone approach him before they would see him. I walked around the table, sat down, and decided what would be the best way to monitor him. I smirked and gave a satisfied chuckle when I realised the answer was in my pocket. I pulled out a pair of Extendible Ears that I had confiscated from the Messrs Weasley. Their invention was rather brilliant, though I'd deny it on pain of Crucio if anyone ever asked me.

I unrolled an Extendible Ear and saw how far I could get the string to travel—Ah, yes, right inside the kitchen. I then took my wand and made a cut in the carpet, all the way to the kitchen, and laid the string into the cut. Casting Reparo, I repaired the damage to the carpet, and hid all evidence that anything was there.

Re-holstering my wand up my sleeve, I looked over my work. Of course, I wouldn't be in the kitchens the whole time, but if he said anything when I wasn't around, I'd hear it.

Now, onto the torture—it was time to open up shop.

oOoOoOo

Ron gulped nervously as they reached the tea shop. With a wave and a smile, Harry had left him and Hermione all alone as Harry had continued on to his brothers' shop. Fred and George had just bought the old Zonko's location, and had invited Harry to check it out—well, they had invited all of them, but Ron was here on a mission, and one that he wouldn't let his brothers ruin.

Ron opened the door cleared his throat. "Hermione?"

Hermione smiled at him and walked through the open door. Ron followed her in and let out a sigh. That was one thing he had managed to do right; never let it be said that Ron Weasley couldn't be a gentleman.

The custom was for each person to seat themselves, so Ron looked for a table where he could be alone with Hermione. He spotted a suitable table back by the kitchen—he knew it wasn't the most desirable of spots, but they would be alone.

He was very proud of himself when he remembered to pull out Hermione's chair for her. Once they were both seated, he folded his hands in front of him and leaned forward. "So…what should we talk about?"

Hermione leaned forward and held his hand. "Ron, we're going to talk about everything and nothing, just like we always do." She laughed, "What's got you so nervous?"

He mumbled something that Hermione couldn't hear.

"What's that?"

"You." Ron felt himself turning as red as his hair.

"Me?" Hermione asked.

"Yes you. Come on, you're a ruddy perfectionist, and I want today to go perfect for you." Did she really have to make things go so difficult for him?

Hermione shook her head and smiled. "Today doesn't have to go perfect. I don't know what gave you the idea that's what I wanted. After all, it's not like it could go any worse than last year."

Ron winced. He knew Hermione's comment had been made completely without malice, but it still hurt him. He had a feeling that that day was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

oOoOoOo

I was back in the kitchen, pulling the last of the blasted scones out of the oven. The little blighters—I mean, customers, were already arriving, and I needed to get out there.

"So, what should we talk about…"

I paused as I loaded up the trays, there was someone sitting at the table I bugged…and I had a feeling I knew those voices.

"…everything and nothing, just like we always do…"

Damnation…of course I knew those voices! The blasted dream team, or at least part of it, was sitting at my table. I snarled and resisted the urge to slam my fist onto the counter top. There was no way I could rush them from the shop, other than serving them and hoping they finished quickly.

oOoOoOo

Ron looked around for anything to change the way their conversation was headed. "Look Hermione. Madam Puddifoot's not here and a wizard seems to have taken her place today." He guffawed. "Look at that; poor bloke has to wear a pink apron. He looks like a p—"

"Ron, don't you finish that thought," Hermione chided him. "There's nothing wrong with pink on a man. It can be quite masculine when worn the right way."

What—was Hermione looking at other guys? "And I suppose he's wearing it the right way?"

Oh no, that came out completely the wrong way. He really needed to learn to think before he spoke. Luckily, he was saved by the waiter coming to their table and serving their tea. To his ill luck, it seemed that the interruption wouldn't be enough to distract Hermione. She merely appeared to be biding her time until they were alone again.

Hermione narrowed her eyes once the waiter had left to serve another table. "Ron, I can't believe you just accused me of—"

Ron was quick to cut her off before he could make a worse arse of himself. "I'm sorry, Hermione. It's…it's just that I'm so nervous."

Almost as if to illustrate his point, he knocked over his cup, right as he added a spoonful of sugar. The hot liquid spilled over the table, barely missing his lap in its sojourn to the floor.

"Bugger!"

oOoOoOo

"Bugger!" someone yelled.

The clanging of dishes and raised voices alerted me to the disaster happening on the other side of the room. I quickly put down the scones I had been serving. "For the love of…" It had to be those blasted Gryffindors.

I strode over, whipped out my wand, and proceeded to Banish the tea Weasley had managed to get all over the table and the floor. I cut of his stuttered apologies with a raised hand, and righted all of the china with another flick of my wand.

I sneered down at the red-headed twerp and proceeded to dock him the points he deserved…and then remembered I couldn't. With a tsk of annoyance, I realigned my face into the proper kindly expression.

"Be careful there, sir." I managed to grit out somewhat pleasantly.

Oh goody, Weasley seems to have been dumbfounded by the address of 'sir.'

"Our fault," Granger interjected as she helped me set the table to rights. "Thank you for cleaning up our mess."

"Not a problem, Miss. Just doing my job." Gag me now.

Granger looked up at me speculatively, and nibbled on her lip the way she always did when she was thinking…or about to raise her hand to ask one of her never-ending questions. I wondered what she could possibly want now.

"You seem to be new here." What an observation. "May I ask your name?"

No.

"Gerard, it is. Gerard Puddifoot—though you may call me Gerard, Miss. I'm taking over for my aunt during the weekends." I added a cordial nod of my head in for good measure. At least it was a good way to get my cover story out, and from a source many would deem credible.

Granger smiled and gestured at Weasley to sit back down. "Could you bring us some more tea…and a couple of those biscuits? They smell delicious."

"But of course, Miss." Too bad I couldn't spike their drinks.

The morning was already long, and the Dark Lord had yet to show his scaly face.

oOoOoOo

A/N: So...like it so far? Hate it? Leave me a review and make my day!