Chapter Seventeen: A Ballot

It was barely two days after Jessie took control of the shop that she began to attend the weekly meetings of the Diagon Alley Chamber of Commerce as a member of the upper floor. There was a fine ceremony when she moved up, and the bustling little witch who was Secretary that year pointed out that since the terms were about to end, it would be very nice if the newest shop-owner made a speech. I think she intended for Jessie to be made Secretary so she could herself be Historian, and I think the Chairman intended to include her to get the young people to his side.

"Yes, Madam Tickes, please do."

It was strange, people calling her 'Madam Tickes.' I supposed it was because she was now so definitely an adult. For some strange reason I liked it. Of course, she was still our Jessie, with her hair in a tail –tied with a blue ribbon for the occasion, and her best trade attire, including a longish coat that, to be perfectly fair, looked a bit too big. She also had the last traces of a black eye and bruises from the incident, which seemed somehow significant. I would've thought she'd have concealed them somehow if they weren't gone by then, which, really, they should have been.

Of course, I couldn't quite picture Jessie as the sort to own a lot of makeup, let alone know how to use the stuff. She had worn a little on our date to see Big Ben, but I knew for a fact my younger sister had helped with it. Ginny and Jessie seemed to get along very well, given that it was also Ginny and her friends who'd helped her get ready for the night's meeting. Jess had gone up to Hogsmeade for half the day and come back looking lovely, if still bruised-up, with Honeydukes chocolate for all of us and a note for me from Ginny. She wanted to know if I'd heard anything about Bill and Fleur –and I had, they were picking a location as well as the date for their wedding.

That was partly why Ginny and Jessie getting along made me so cheerful –Ginny thought Fleur was an insipid bint. Jessie did get along well with most people, though, mainly by being rather calm and not really understanding their differences, even if she did manage to notice there were any. She was perfectly oblivious, for example, to the fact that Fleur is part-Veela, and once we told her she only wanted to know if that meant she couldn't wear metal bands. I wouldn't say ignorance is bliss, but not caring, apparently, can be very nice.

For some reason, though, Jessie did seem to care what the Chamber of Commerce thought. She looked as nervous as Ron in a witches' clothing shop.

"Erm…alright." She stood up and headed to the podium, a shaky little smile on her face as if she might ask the Chamber to please not eat her. She had some little white cards, I thought I saw, but her hand kept them from being obvious. Of course, her hands were shaking, so she could have been holding a live salamander and one couldn't have been sure.

I was sitting with my brothers in the front seats of the lower floor, which isn't really a lower floor, just some rows behind the upper-floor members that don't hold office. The boys' shop was among the highest grossing lately, so we had a better view. I grinned at Jessie, doubting she could see, but hoping she did okay. She seemed to be gazing in my general direction, after all.

Just then, she brightened.

"Tradespeople of Diagon," she began, "I am honored to be counted among such an august body, a group without which the economy of wizarding London might well collapse, which sets the standard of honest commerce for all Britain, and holds the lead among the trading centers of Europe even to this day!" She sort of gestured up, and to my surprise, they applauded. I think she was surprised as well. "We are the providers of everything a witch or wizard could desire within London –well, nearly everything!" She grinned cheerily. "Without us, our world would face a state of economic anarchy in a very large area. The thriving black market would swell, like a malevolent Lethifold, and instantly smother all that is good and right in Britain. For tell me, how can our honest customers survive against the gangsters of the illegal trade? How can we protect them, and protect ourselves?"

I was astonished. She was really quite a good speaker. Of course, it didn't seem like her to pander to the older people so heavily…Jessie liked the Redferns and tolerated Knockturn Alley beautifully.

And then she smiled.

"I lack the years of wisdom many of you bring to this Chamber. I also lack some of your height." That got a laugh. "But I do offer the perspective of youth, of a person raised to the trade, as many of you are, yet acutely aware of the challenges facing all the generations, especially mine. We are standing on the blade of a knife, and if we lean one way, we will be lost. Lean another, and we are saved. But at any rate, we cannot stand still, or we will be sliced in half, as easily as a paid receipt. We live in times demanding action. If we continue to stand against our brother shopkeepers, misguided though we may think them, we will be a house divided, and it will be that much easier for You-Know-Who-"

There was a gasp. Jessie stopped, then sighed with a wry smile.

"You read the news. You hear noise at night. Come on. Look at me, for peace sake, still bruised after a trip to St. Mungo's and mended bones. How long before it's any shop they attack? If the always-neutral Tickes can have her window smashed, couldn't that mean a little worse for the more partisan shops about?" Then she sighed again and looked at the podium, then up to her audience. "I don't ask that we declare ourselves Potterists or fall into perfect line with the Ministry or anything of the kind. We are an organization of economic interests, devoted to the free and unhindered pursuit of trade, with a rich and varied history, most of it measured by my family's clocks, chronicled in Flourish and Blotts, and made truly magical with the help of Olivander's. We are not politicians, we're shopkeepers!"

She looked grave.

"And the Death Eaters and the continued persecution of Knockturn Alley are bad for business. Simple as that. We can come together, all the tradespeople of London, and resist…or we can let them raise taxes to clean up after we're all gone."

Silence. I glanced to my right and realized even Fred and George were raptly attentive.

"But what could I know? I'm the youngest shop-owner here. I'm sure there's a few people brighter than me who'll know how to sort this out. So, -er, here's to a bright new year, a glorious Black Friday, and holiday figures that make previous years look like apprentice work! To business!"

"To business!" the crowd echoed, a smattering of very tense applause sounding as if everyone were waiting for a bomb to explode.

I was patently astonished –and vaguely turned on. Jessie gave me a bright grin as she went back to her seat, and I noticed her hands were still shaking. That was actually somewhat obvious.

A few minutes of Fudgian-speak later, the Chairman opened the floor for nominations to office, beginning with that of Chair. I swear, at the time that this happened I had no idea what occurred was even possible. By the Chamber's rules, members of the upper floor alone could make nominations, though any member could be nominated, and a member of any floor could second nominations. I should also, perhaps, reiterate that Jessie was very well-liked at this time. She pleased many, was courteous to all, and offended almost nobody. And there were many, many people who were all for integrating with the Knockturn shops, even if only to impose some standards and perhaps add better lighting.

And, of course, those who did not agree with her assumed she was still too young to do anything.

I don't remember who nominated her to be Chairperson. I think it might've been Florean Fortescue, or maybe it was Abigail Flourish. What I do remember is that my brothers and about five other people in the lower floor stood up to second it.

Jessie, it must be told, went a shade of red previously only seen when Gryffindor took the Cup, then instantly whitened to the point where she resembled Moaning Myrtle's pretty older sister. I don't think she really even meant to nod when the Chairman, who looked pretty startled and slightly upset to be facing a challenger, asked her if she accepted the nomination. I think she was just shaken enough, she would have nodded to anything.

She certainly looked frightened.

The other nominations were handled well. Finally, Florean Fortescue, who was Treasurer and had just been put up for Secretary, nominated George for his old office, and then amended the nomination to both twins.

"We could make them co-treasurers," he explained. "Their shop's done very well, you know." Mumbles of disbelief followed.

"I second it," a small, slightly Irish-sounding voice assented. It took me a second to realize Jessie had moved, let alone put my brothers on the ballot. "They're good businessmen." She gave one of her shy smiles and the noise faded.

And the voting began. The rules were that everyone lined up by reverse-alphabetical and marked their ballots with a big red plume of a quill. The ballots, instantly printed with a few charms from the Custodian, were small and it was virtually impossible to see what a person marked. The ballots were then placed in a small marketing basket that filled with white flames at a word from the Chairperson.

We voted, I think one can guess who I marked my ballot for, and filed out into the hall to wait. Jessie followed not long after, still looking terrified. Fred and George ran up and hugged her between the two of them.

"Bloody amazing speech, Jessie!"

"Who knew the clocksmith could wind people?"

"And its super they want you for Chairwoman."

"Is't?" she half-gasped. "…I d'know…could do worse…I think." She did not look confident.

"Naw, Jess, you'd be great at it!"

"But …why'd you second us?"

"Why not?" Jessie shrugged absently. "You'd be good at it. The Chamber needs talent and hard work right now, not just stuffy propriety."

"Aww, Jess!" They hugged her again and she seemed to relax for the first time all night. Over Fred's shoulder, she smiled at me and I felt that little tension in my chest again. I still don't know what kept me from sweeping her up and kissing her right then and there.

"We're going to go get some of the refreshments-"

"If you'd like anything-?"

"Erm…drink." Jessie made a sort of pointing gesture that implied dry mouth and, I thought, a pretty good case of shock. The boys promised to be back and I told them we'd be down the side corridor. I offered Jessie my arm and she slipped hers into mine as if the action didn't even require conscious thought. I found us a bench down the corridor and managed to get her seated. Luckily, no one else was about just then. I was still pretty impressed.

"Jessie...wow. I didn't know you could...wow." She looked at me, smiled slightly and leaned closer –then abruptly leaned back so her back was flat flush to the wall.

"Charlie, I forbid you to be impressed by that speech."

"Why? It was wonderful."

"It was rank rubbish, at least when I started it! I had to get help from Ginny, Hermione and Luna, as well as what I cribbed from Professors Sprout, Flitwick and Snape. It was practically a stage play."

"...Flitwick and Snape?"

"Well, where did you think the gestures came from?" She smiled a little more normally. "I really don't know a damned thing about how to speak in public, so I just kinda copied them best I could…" I helped her off with the blue coat. She had on her best vest underneath, and one of her loosely long-sleeved shirts. My shirt looked similar, but the vest left no doubt as to her gender. Drat Ginny sometimes.

"Er…I don't see how you copied Snape…"

"Well, that was also kind of a 'what not to do'…but I did point up. People making speeches always point up a lot when they talk about happy things, and they make hand slashes when they talk about stuff that's to be got rid of, and if things are bad they hold on to the podium." She sounded so matter-of-fact, and so terrified it was hard not to smile. "At least, that's what Hermione said. Luna reckoned I should've worn a boat-tailed grackle hat, but Ginny said no…I should've."

"…A what?"

"Boat-tailed grackle. It's a sort of bird…I don't think they'd be attempting to elect me if I'd just worn the damn grackle hat. I knew I should've listened to Luna, she is a Ravenclaw, after all...but was she sure it was the grackle hat? What about a duck?"

"Jessie, you don't look well."

"Of course I don't! I can't believe this happened! …Why do these things always happen to me?"

"What?"

"It's always like this! Every time something scary happens, I'm the one it happens to!" That didn't make a speck of sense, but I listened politely. "Like in seventh year! Professor Grubbly-Plank gave a prize for the best owl perch and I had to stand up in front of everyone! And in third year, Professor Snape once actually said that I was the least mentally-deficient waste of academic space in the class. I wanted to die!"

"Er…those are both good things, though."

"Oh, for the people that like them, yeah, but not if they're scary!"

I suddenly understood.

"Jess…you're shy!"

"Ya think?"

"But…you're completely fine with a lot of people in the shop. And you meet people easily, I'd bet a good eighty percent of the people here think you're a great person…"

"Yeah…but that's the shop, you know? I'm safe there…Bludger-bat incident notwithstanding. And one at a time, people aren't that scary…unless they're professors who aren't Professor Sprout. Or Aurors who aren't Tonks. Or Ministers who aren't Fudge, or goblins who aren't that really nice one, Clipring, or vampires who don't collect alarm clocks like that Vladislavski fellow, or hags who aren't-" She stopped and looked at me suddenly, an expression of dawning realization. "Wait a minute."

Was it really this easy? I just had to guide her logic a bit and she wouldn't be frightened any more. It was difficult not to laugh.

"I think you get nervous speaking in front of crowds, is all."

"Well…doesn't everyone?"

"I don't think Dumbledore does."

"No. Or Professor Snape. Or…what the bloody is there to be nervous about? I know most of them, anyway, and the ones I don't know will eventually need watches, or else I'll meet them at meetings –that's why they're called that! I'd wondered! –And if one or two of 'em don't like me or my thoughts on things, I can just ask their opinion and then they'll be so pleased to be listened to it won't matter."

"That might be taking it a bit far, but I think you've got it."

"Dang. A lot of perfectly good energy gone being scared of things that really aren't frightening."

"Well, some things you should be frightened of, the really dangerous ones."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Like hippogryffs, or dragons."

"I've petted hippogryffs, they're polite enough if you make the effort first and bring dead ferrets or a bit of steak. And you're really one to talk about dragons being dangerous, Mr. Oh-Aren't-These-Hatchlings-Adorable."

"Well, like uncontrolled werewolves, then."

"In the age of Wolfsbane, the only ones who'd deliberately go uncontrolled are complete nutters anyway, and that's why we have Aurors. You know, I think the reason they're called that is because Complete Nutter Disposal Force cost more in price-per-letter to put on office doors."

She'd turned the tables on me. I don't believe her sometimes; cute, clever, astonishingly ditzy at moments…and still mischievous enough to entirely justify her friendship with my twin brothers.

"Like…like You-Know-Who."

"Again, complete nutter. If the Aurors and Potter don't sort him out, sooner or later he's bound to either develop some reason and calm down …or kidney stones. And then he'll have to calm down in order to get in at St. Mungo's. Kidney stones are supposed to hurt something fierce. Or one of his own followers will turn on him to take over the pack and the ensuing kerfuffle will thin them down to ineffectuality. Vicious creatures are good at keeping their own numbers down, it's in the design of things. –Pumpkin juice, yay!" She accepted the drink from George. "Thanks, I was going spare just a bit ago."

"You just asserted that digestive upset could bring down the Dark Lord," Fred observed.

"Well, it could!"

"Have you been talking with Luna Lovegood again?" George asked.

"Well, yes, but not in the Tinfoil Hat Club way." Jessie slid down the bench to make space for the twins to sit, inadvertently bringing herself decidedly closer to me. A little dance of fingertips on my knee, and I realized it was anything but inadvertent. "I think it has to do with something Hermione was explaining to Ginny ad nauseum –she does that, you know. But the idea was this Muggle philosophy from the seventeen-hundreds called Deism."

"Wait…I thought you girls were having a chat on makeup and dress just then."

"True, yeah, but it got to that. Ginny was making fun of my coats again and Hermione compared them to John Locke's, who was some Muggle philosopher fellow, and Ginny asked who that was, and Hermione explained, 'cause she'd just read a book on him over the break –and you know how those conversations run."

"So what'd our little textbook turn out for you?" Fred grinned.

"There was this idea of religion around the Enlightenment that this Locke guy had a good hand in thinking up, it was called Deism, and the idea was that yes, there's a Creator, and yes, he made the world, but he made it in such a way that it can run on its own, the mechanisms are all there, like evolution and instinct and such. The metaphor they used a lot was 'the divine watchmaker.' Apparently the world was kind of like a watch, and the greater power was kind of like…well, me. …Except kind of older and taller and…more like Granddad."

There was a brief silence.

"If Jessie's a deity, I get five Galleons."

"You're on."

"Yes, but it also explained why there were things like evil and corruption…they're kind of like dust in the mainspring; a little won't kill you, but a lot can gut the movement. And population is like oil…too little is bad, but so is too much, so sickness and old age are like cutting solvent, and the human sex drive is like an eyedropper of 10-W, and the hands of the watch are like seasons and weather…and the numbers are like countries…"

"You are …really enjoying this metaphor," George remarked. It was plain the twins were either nonplussed or completely confused –I'd bet the latter.

"Wait. It gets better!"

"You-Know-Who is already a dust speck with intestinal issues. What else can you do to it?" Fred asked.

"See, anything wrong with the system, like evil or corruption? You can get rid of that, just by overhauling the system a bit. Seal the watch, dust can't get in. Add enough oil, the right kind of dust becomes grain lubricant, in the right space between spring and gear. Too much oil can be cleaned out with a shot of solvent. I've known how to do it for years."

The twins shrugged, completely missing the significance. This little watchmaker had found the confidence to overhaul the system of Diagon Alley, as easily as she might one of her timepieces.

She smiled, glancing a little at me. She knew I knew.

"And it means that you, and I, and everyone we know…" Jessie looked pleased with herself. "-are gears!" She grinned at their blank faces for a moment, then sighed. "Well, I thought it was interesting. Gears are cool."

"Kind of gives new validity to the expressions 'grates on you' and 'mesh well,' eh?" I observed, raising my eyebrow a little bit as I smiled, proud of her. The boys might not get it, but I did. Jessie let out a little squeak of glee and caught my hands in hers. For a second I thought she might kiss me, and I was right.

I like being right. I also like being kissed.

And then a look of purest terror, paler than when she had given her speech, slipped onto her face as she turned and looked at the twins.

"Er…um…"

The twins looked –well, perfectly gobsmacked.

"He told us he fancied her…why is this frightening?"

"Didn't mention she fancied him back. Right unfair that is."

"Well, clearly she does."

"Err…" Jessie went quite red. "Crap. I mean, uh… I am deeply sorry for the inconvenience caused by the non-disclosure of romantic feelings between party the first and indicated party the second, who is the duplicite third's elder brother. Non-disclosure was mandated by exigency, suspicions of forthcoming suspicion, and, uh…we didn't know how you'd take it."

There was another pause.

"Guys?" I asked, holding Jessie's hands a little tighter.

"They're so cute!" George suddenly observed. "Entirely unfair of them to look cute together, idn't it?"

"Impossibly cheeky of them. And they might have told us they'd kissed."

"I think they kind of demonstrated it, instead."

"Yeah. Think she's done that before?"

"Only the once!" Jessie protested, before thinking, "…twice…okay, I'm getting into a habit, here, but why? S'that a problem?"

"No. It is cute, though."

"But how's he feel about being snogged by five feet some inches of girl clocksmith?"

I glared playfully at Fred and demonstrated that no, I did not mind at all. Somehow Jessie's and my hands came loose and migrated to each other's arms…and closer…and the twins turned around, grumbling.

And it was really rather a good job it was such an isolated part of Chamber Hall, actually. Between the twins' sounds of mock disgust and observations that there went another one, were they the last single Weasleys left, etc., and the fact that Jess and I were somewhat busy, it was only by the merest chance and George's being attentive that we heard Madam Flourish coming down the hall. She is a matronly lady and would be shocked, I thought, by just the scene that met her eyes as she rounded the corner –twins looking disgusted and a little pleased, Jessie looking winded and a little askew, but smiling, and me grinning nervously at the sound of steps.

Oh, and Jessie was still in my arms just then.

Madam Abigail Flourish, eminent partner in Flourish & Blotts, stared at us for a moment, then clapped her hands excitedly.

"How adorable! If I could only paint, that would illustrate a page of Jane Austen beautifully…and the red hair, it sets off the green of the coats…ooh!" Fred and George smiled nervously. "The votes have been tallied, incidentally, quite an upset."

"Oh?" I asked, a feeling of rising delight in my chest.

"Yes. And if the Messrs. Treasurer would kindly escort me back inside, I'm sure I can delay them long enough for Madam Chairperson to fix her hair. They're calling for you, dearie."

With a gallantry that would have Mum very proud, the twins offered Madam Flourish their arms and walked off, talking cheerily. I looked back at my girlfriend, my Jessie, and was sorely tempted not to let her accept the position on time at all. She was still looking a little out of breath, and one tendril of brown hair had gotten free of the blue ribbon.

"Charlie, am I hallucinating?"

"No…Madam Chairperson," I snorted.

She gave me a pointed glare above a wry smile.

"See if you dare call me that in bed," she growled.

I shut up.

"Well, they're bloody well stuck with me, now. Might as well look like myself." And with that, Jessie yanked her tie undone, snapped her first two shirt buttons open, pulled the collar out, and smirked. She had gone from nervous to rakish in ten seconds. "Walk in with me?"

"I…er…"

"There's a crowd. Gossips won't notice it. 'Sides…I was shown how to make entrances."

"Ginny?" I gasped, still reeling from her apparent casual remark.

"No…" And she smirked more mischievously, throwing her coat over her shoulders. Yes, it was possible. "Professor Snape."

I'm sure you've read about the term of Chairperson Jamesina W. Tickes the Fourth and how it impacted Diagon Alley during the Potter War; how she quickly assumed command. I'm sure you also read about her first acts as Chair, initiating contact with Knockturn Alley and establishing their Chamber, to this day the sister office of the Diagon Chamber Hall. I'm sure you read about how she faced down opposition by means of pure calmness in character, and how she would eventually leave the office a much more prestigious position.

I bet you didn't know she did it with such style.

A/N: Whoever reviews this chapter first will have the three-hundredth. That person may ask for plot details ahead of time, or some such sort of odd question, and I'll actually answer them. -J. McN.