Chapter Seven: A Doorknocker

I don't know what possessed me to do that. A long time has passed since that night, and I still wonder. Maybe it was just an impulsive display of affection for this dear, sweet, wonderful guy who seemed to understand every weird, crazy quirk I had –or maybe it was something I could write off as a deduction from common sense under 'teenage hormones.' Surely, considering the lack of anything even remotely hormonal during my actual teenage years, I could use the excuse a bit later, couldn't I? Besides, I was still a week shy of my birthday. I could act crazy if I wanted to…

"Jessie?"

I had pulled away fairly quickly after realizing –well, what I'd done. Charlie was looking at me as if he expected me to suddenly blush and run away into the night. I tried my best to control the blushing, but the running was out of the question. After all, fast as I'd done it, Charlie had had the chance to kiss me back, and water was a good deal more solid than my knees felt at that moment.

"I…I…don't know why I did that."

Well, for articulate I'd give myself a four. For honest, though, I was getting good marks. Maybe that would do… "Dreadfully sorry -I mean, I don't normally, that is, I've never quite…"

Have you ever been in a situation that is so impossibly frustrating that your inner monologue totally fails you and you say the first bloody thing that pops into your bloody head, rational, appropriate or otherwise; thus either worsening the situation or making it go away as everyone laughs at you?

That happened to me right about then.

"So that's kissing!"

I wished for the skies to open and lightning to strike me dead. No such luck. Charlie, however, let out a soft little sound, somewhere between a chortle and a sigh, and touched my hand.

"You'd never kissed anyone before?"

"Well, no. I mean…just that… -this is quite the odd evening." I wanted to look away. I wanted to turn around. Anything to not see those gently smiling, slightly confused, oh-so-beautiful eyes watching me any more. But the strange thing was, I couldn't. "I mean, no one's ever…" Words failed me and I gestured around at our surroundings. "Look at all this! It's all just so..."

"I knew a big clock was just the thing. It's sweet, having something you care about so much and know so well."

"Like you and dragons."

"Well…" We sat down on the bench and got the food out of the bag. "Not quite. I can't make a dragon tick."

"Actually, I seem to recall Gred and Forge telling me about a certain early hatchling without a pulse and a certain researcher adapting a human enervate charm to wee lizards on the spot."

"They told you about that?"

"Of course. They also told me about the time you got ahold of some Firewhiskey in fifth year and serenaded the poor Fat Lady with the fight songs of no less than nine different Quidditch teams."

"They told me about the time you locked yourself out of the Prefects' Bath and had to be rescued by Luna Lovegood."

"They…those…!" Charlie swallowed a bite of fish.

"Personally, I found it a bit implausible. Wouldn't you, of all people, have picked the lock?"

"I don't exactly carry my tools when I happen to be naked and dripping!"

"Really?"

"If you dare ask why not…"

"I simply must, after that..."

"No pockets."

And that is how I succeeded in proving that Muggle soda and sinuses do not mix. I thumped Charlie on the back a bit and handed him one of the napkins. He gave me the sweetest glare I had ever seen.

"I am sorely tempted to tickle you into submission, wench."

"Wench? Wench? This from the man who was kicked out of a bar in Tirgoviste for singing 'Puff the Magic Dragon' at the top of his lungs? And the naughty bits, no less? I didn't even know there were naughty bits in that!"

"Of course. Bill wrote them. And it was a tavern, not a bar. There's a difference."

"Which is?"

"Taverns apparently have little hotel rooms on top."

"So that's where the stairs at the Hog's Head go…"

"When have you been to the Hog's Head?"

"Certain sundry components to a specific magical device are subject to incidental Ministry trading restrictions and applications for an exception have been denied due to bureaucratic inefficiency and/or suspicion due to previous associations between the Firm and another body, currently in opposition to the present administration." Would you believe Charlie stared at me? "If I say 'Dung Fletcher,' will you stop looking so startled?"

"You speak Fudgian."

"Fluently."

"I never knew."

"You never asked a question that could compromise the security of the Firm in relation to the code of politic neutrality demanded by standard economics and etiquette if sundry covert listeners were to report to higher authority."

"Stop that!"

"Your application for the cessation of bureaucratic banter has been received and transmitted to processing, pending validation. Care for a receipt?"

"I'll give you receipt, clock woman…"

"Bring it, dragon boy!"

And we chased each other around the park bench for a bit. The grass was a little bit wet, either with dew or because it's London and rains a lot, or…I don't know why, really. Anyway, when grass is wet, it's very hard not to slip.

Which I did.

Charlie helped me up and I shook myself off a bit, even though there really wasn't any grass on me that I could see. For some reason we were both laughing and then, for some other reason, Charlie started tickling me. I had not lived in close contact with his little brothers for six months for nothing, and nimble fingers have their arcane uses, so we basically wound up on the wet grass, tickling and laughing and generally behaving somewhat akin to monkeys. I loved every second of it.

Even when he kinda won.

Even though he kinda cheated.

Even if that kind of cheating was kind of fair, considering I did it first.

Even if kissing is different after the fish n' chips.

We eventually made it back to the Leaky Cauldron, but only after Big Ben struck midnight. En route we startled the other three passengers of an almost empty Muggle double-decker when Charlie taught me the Naughty Bits he and Bill added to 'Puff the Magic Dragon,' 'Chudley Cannons Forever' and even the Ravenclaw Fight Song. Apparently the Chudley Cannon song's Naughty Bits make his brother Ron get all sniffy and offended and call people blaspheming gits. I, for one, was most astonished to discover the Ravenclaw Fight Song actually has more than four lines to it. After all, I'd spent most of the games either fixing Snitches or seeing how my fixed ones performed with Ian's old Omnioculars. The refrain I knew, and the first verse, but other than that, I was rather fuzzy. Charlie was nice enough not to do the eye-rolling and gasping most of my Quidditch-playing male friends and relatives engage in, which was refreshing, but he did insist on teaching the rest of it to me, and the Gryffindor one, which I think is easier. One thing I'll say for us Ravenclaws, we never send a drinking song to do a counterpoint madrigal's job. Showoff-y-ness has its' downside.

We also caught a bus in the wrong direction by accident, but that was okay. We walked back and got caught in a crowd of Muggles leaving a nightclub. Apparently Japanese Muggles like to sing a lot when they have had too much to drink. Their hotel was on the same side of London as Diagon Alley, so they caught the same bus as we did.

I don't think it was really fair of Charlie to teach them the Naughty Bits of 'Puff the Magic Dragon,' really I don't. Funny, though.

After we got back to Diagon Alley, we headed for my shop, of course. Considering it was two in the morning, however, I had a brilliant idea to prevent the Wonder Twins from noticing my late arrival. You never know when they're going to be awake 'til all hours inventing a refrigerating tea-cozy or some other such mischief. We cut through the back nine behind Fortescue's to Knockturn Alley, which really wasn't hard, though Charlie seemed a lot more nervous than I was.

There's a pawn shop next to my place, owned by a set of triplets, which really isn't all that dodgy at all, apart from being a pawn shop. Dodginess tends to increase as one proceeds down Knockturn from Diagon and decrease in the reverse. Being a pawn shop, Redfern's is open twenty-four hours and has a rear entrance, in case the more socially affluent need a bit of financial assistance. I knew this because the back of my shop overlooked it. When I was an apprentice, I used to amuse myself by watching the comings and goings while I did the books at night.

The (supposedly,) richer and more prominent the customers are, the more hooded cloaks and such they wear. Ironically, noone ever thinks to change their shoes, and considering the doorknocker is set somewhat high, their sleeves usually fall back enough that I can see their watch. Watch and shoes is enough for a positive identification in my line of work. Uncle Gard reckons he saw Celestina Warbeck once when he was younger, and I know that was Rita Skeeter with the red-and-black polka dot wristband on her watch. Ludo Bagman doesn't even count as an anecdote anymore, more of an 'again?' The Redfern triplets were in Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, so I knew Sam, the middle one, fairly well.

I explained all of this to Charlie as we walked in the dark.

"So…the…er, middle one's called Sam?"

"Yeah. Ken, Sam and Mel. They're each ten minutes apart and look exactly alike."

"Let me guess, you can tell them apart?"

"Of course."

"Jessie…how do you do that?"

"If I told you, I wouldn't be mysterious, now, would I?"

"You consider it normal to be knocking on a pawnshop door at two a.m., Jessie. There's a lot of 'mysterious' to go."

"Why aren't they answering?"

"Because normal humans like to sleep at this hour?"

"Is that sleep-deprived crankiness I hear?"

"No, this is talking-loudly-in-a-scary-place crankiness."

"Honest, Charlie, it's not that bad. I live here, after all…"

"Jessie?" I heard one of the triplets whispering. "'Zat you?"

"Yeah. What is it?"

"Get in here!"

"…Okay."

Things were about to get much weirder.