3

Irvyn nearly dropped the files he was going over at the sudden, unearthly banshee-like screech. "What in Merlin's name is that all about?" he murmured to himself.

"I wonder what's taking Daryl so long in hauling that intern from the ladies. I certainly hope that he did not get into trouble with her. Whoever said that women can be extremely frightful when they are mad obviously had understated it" Irvyn chuckled softly.

Guess I'd better go see what the fuss is. Anyone who had screamed in that manner is either in absolute distress or is trying very hard to break the windows with her high-pitched voice. And for what reasons, I don't know. Humans are such strange creatures. Why am I even ruminating over this matter? Sheesh… I must have been more tired than I thought.

After setting his files aside carefully, Irvyn made his way towards the source of commotion. He found a red-faced Daryl and a dumb-struck old lady standing in front the train's restroom.

"Dar? What's going on here?" Irvyn queried as he neared the pair. When he was close enough, Irvyn took in the sight of the open lavatory door, young Cheryll Jones bent over the toilet bowl; vomiting and Daryl's blushing face. The truth of whatever that had transpired dawned upon him as he recalled a dream he had weeks ago.

"Dar… you… you… you closet pervert! How could you just… This is priceless… I thought it was just a nonsensical dream… Who would have thought…Oh, my!"

Unable to stand it any longer, Irvyn burst into peals of laughter.

Meanwhile, the poor old lady stood forgotten and unnoticed by the side, stunned with her mouth wide open watching the going-ons; scratch that, the extremely loud going-ons at the toilet cubicle. The racket was compounded by the arrival of the young man with purple eyes laughing his guts out. Who knew that a simple trip to the loo could potentially turn into a full blown soap opera? This was so much better than the cheap sappy dramas she watched on television. Well, all in all, she could have stayed rooted there indefinitely when a sudden twinging pain in her bladder galvanised her into action.

She made her way to the front and spoke to Daryl, "Young man, I don't care what you do to get that lump of thing on the floor out. You can carry her, drag her or whatever. I. Don't. Care. Just do it NOW!"

For added measure and to serve as an emphasis of her 'delicate' state, she brandished her umbrella threateningly. She was sure she would be embarrassed that she had actually been rude and threatening towards strangers but sometimes other things take priority over manners.

Daryl stared wide-eyed at the old lady wielding the umbrella furiously in front of him. He then turned to look at Cheryll Jones who still had her face stuck in front of the toilet seat.

Why me? Why oh why am I always stuck in sticky situations? Sometimes I really wonder who in all heavens had I offended in my life to hate me so. Daryl moaned.

Poor Daryl could feel a migraine building up in his head and he concluded that, like all misfortune that befell on him, Irvyn was the cause of it (Well, most of the time it was).

That bastard knew that this is going to happen. He should have at least warned me. Sigh. A simple spell will provide Miss Jones temporary relief from her ailment. But how am to cast it on her without arousing suspicion from that scary old lady? Daryl pondered.

His eyes fell on Irvyn who was still laughing merrily away, oblivious to Daryl's dilemma. A devious smirk crept onto Daryl's face as an idea formed. A closet pervert, eh? I'll show him.

Without warning, he grabbed Irvyn by the collar, shoved him into the cubicle and slammed the door shut. "Since you knew very well how this will end, I suggest you get her out instead, Irvyn. You know what you can do. I've had enough of this nonsense."

Taking a deep breath, Daryl brushed imaginary dust from his shirt and composed himself before he faced the elderly woman once more. "Don't worry, Madame. I'm sure they will be out soon enough, for this friend of mine is much better at placating young women than I am. I sincerely apologise for the trouble we caused. Good day." And with that, he turned on his heels and left with a satisfied smile.

Problem solved.

To say that Irvyn was shocked was an understatement. For once in his lifetime, Daryl had managed to catch him off guard and in the process, rudely thrust him into a toilet cubicle. Disorientated, he only regained his bearings when the door was shut with a bang in his face.

Irvyn raked a hand through his hair in exasperation. I'm not God, Dar. I don't know everything. Sometimes, I wish I wasn't born with this accursed ability. He exhaled softly.

"What I can do? Really Dar, you are too subtle at times. Guess it comes with being an Auror. They tend to speak too much in codes," Irvyn muttered when he finally understood the underlying meaning behind Daryl's rant.

Then, he turned to face the only other occupant of the cubicle. "Sorry, but I guess you will have to bear with this for a while. I promise it won't hurt and I'll be quick about it," Irvyn smirked.

Cheryll looked shell-shocked as slowly and deliberately, Irvyn unbuttoned his white trench-coat; the movements of his fingers as he unhooked each button were almost sensual. A million impure thoughts and fantasies ran wildly through Cheryll's mind as she watched with growing anticipation at Irvyn's nimble fingers. To her utter dismay, all Irvyn did was to withdraw his wand from the inner pocket of the garment.

"Irv-"

Before Cheryll could finish, Irvyn cast a healing spell on her with a swift flick of his wrist and a murmur. The last thing she remembered before the darkness claimed her was Irvyn's face.

Irvyn watched in surprise as Cheryll's body slumped forward in unconsciousness. "Okay, that wasn't expected," he muttered, pocketing his wand.

"Oh well, it can't be helped. What is done is done. Her body reaction towards healing magic is really out of the ordinary," Irvyn sighed as he slipped a hand around Cheryll's shoulders and the other under her legs. "Either that, or my healing charms need some serious brushing up," he added darkly and lifted the unconscious intern bridal style with ease.

After a few minutes of fumbling with the doorknob, he finally got the cubicle door open. A smile was plastered on his face as he greeted the gawking old lady outside, "The toilet is all yours, Madame. Enjoy!"

Then, he sauntered back to the compartment the three wizards shared nonchalantly, as if carrying a lady who was out cold in his arms was the most natural thing in the world. Irvyn silently approached Daryl who was sitting by the window and dumped the bundle in his arms unceremoniously onto the train seat.

"You are pissed with me." It wasn't even a question.

Daryl did not comment on the statement. Instead, he continued staring out of the window, enjoying the country-side scenery and resolutely ignored Irvyn. A thick and uncomfortable silence descended on the duo. The rest of the journey to Glennmarie Town was passed in utter silence.

When the train pulled to a halt at their stop, Irvyn almost sighed in relief. Being a hyperactive person, he certainly cannot stand prolonged silence. And the tension between him and Daryl throughout the journey was killing him. I wonder whose fault is that. His mind chided him.

After shaking Cheryll Jones none too gently to wake her, Irvyn bounded immediately to the door. He was only too glad to leave the train and get the mission done. However, a hand grabbed Irvyn's elbow before he could step out of the vehicle. Irvyn turned around quizzically to face a somber Daryl.

"I'm not mad at you. Idiot," Daryl smiled gently and playfully flicked his finger on Irvyn's nose. For a moment, Irvyn was speechless, uncomprehending. His smile however became brighter when the statement finally registered in his brain. And Irvyn disembarked the train with a distinct lightness to his steps.