Chapter Twenty-Three: Some Tickets

It was a rare enough occasion that I received a royalty check for any of my books. I had certainly never seen one of the size that an owl had brought to my parents' house just before we headed out toward Diagon Alley (I had, naturally, forgotten to update my address to the twins' spare room above the shop,) but, as Ginny quickly theorized, the American company that had just merged with Obscurus Books was probably reprinting something of mine for the Stateside market.

"Dragons are rather popular over there," she explained. "There's a lot more open space, especially in the Western states, and Hagrid says there's even some experimental breeding allowed. So your book about Horntails could probably be a bestseller with the Yanks."

"That, or they're interested in me as a writer because my brother and sister are friends of the great Harry Potter."

"I doubt it. You've never written about Harry."

"Well, no, but I can't imagine there'd be much of a market for-"

"You're doubting yourself again. Do I need to tell Mum you're suffering from low self-esteem?"

"Peace, no! Between her attempts at consolation and dinners at Jessie's house, I'd weigh twenty stone in a month." There was some truth in that; I actually had put on a little weight since moving in with the twins. Mum had said I looked thin after coming back from Romania, though, so I guessed I was still all right.

"What are you going to do with the money, then?"

"Oh, I thought I'd put some into savings, pay my next three months' rent in advance so I don't have to worry about it, pick out and order Christmas presents early…and then with the rest, I thought…well…"

"Any inclinations towards a jewelry store?"

"Yes, actually. I thought it might be nice to get earrings for Mum this year." For some reason, that comment made Ginny smack herself in the forehead. "What?"

"I was hinting at something a little more romantic. Maybe something for a certain clock-making lady friend?"

"Oh. You mean something of a ring nature, or just something sparkly?"

"Something sparkly. I think there's quite enough engagement in this family for the moment. Besides, I think Phlegm would eat her."

"She would not!"

"If there were another possible Weasley bride? Please. Phlegm would smile so big the top of her head would wobble and possibly fall off, all the while hating the eyebrows off of any woman unfortunate enough to beguile one of my big brothers during dress rehearsal for her big day."

"But Jessie's not a threat –I mean, not the way Fleur seems to look at things. I think she'd be pleased and happy to have another potential sister-in-law."

"Oh, right, like the one she has now is turning out to be such a friend. I thought she was going to spit up a kidney when I suggested a pick-up Quidditch game in the yard."

"Jessie's a clocksmith. I'm sure Fleur's fondness for all things pretty and sparkly will smooth over the fact that Jess is easily twenty times more useful and better liked by everyone who isn't Bill or Ron."

"…It's funny that you refer to your girlfriend as 'useful.'"

"I don't mean it as a bad thing. It's just…well, when you spend any amount of time with a person who doesn't appear to have any interests or capabilities apart from looks and some magic skills, a person who actually does know how to do something helpful and challenging looks a heck of a lot better."

"So when you say 'useful,' you really mean 'not Phlegm.'"

"…At the risk of admitting that I don't like my brother's fiancée –and I do! Don't get me wrong, I'm sure Fleur is a wonderful person and though we may find her annoying and vapid now, it's at least reasonably possible that she has some redeeming characteristics –okay, you're right."

"Thought so."

"How can she be so bright and still lack any interests outside of her job, Bill and looking a tart? She must have been so boring in the common room at school –I mean, is it normal for girls to be that one-sided?"

"We have four of her in Gryffindor, at least."

"Bloody hell."

"So, yeah, you seem to have won the girlfriend lottery with a girl who has her own pliers and all," Ginny smirked.

"I do like that you like her," I replied, smiling. "It is nice to know that your girlfriend gets along with your family and vice-versa. It's a little terrifying to know that they might team up on you, but then again, if your family and your girlfriend decide you need teamed up on, I guess you probably do."

"I like that she actually does something other than look pretty."

"She is pretty," I argued.

"Yes, Charlie. Your girlfriend is pretty. And if she's aware of that fact, I will personally ride Norbert home. Phlegm is pretty and she knows it, which makes her insufferable. Jessie has no idea that she isn't still an insecure third-year when it comes to looks and she probably never will, which makes her considerably nicer to be around."

"How do you know-"

"I've helped her pick out clothes, Charlie. It was news to Jamesina Tickes that clothing unlike that of her uncle and grandfather does exist and can be worn by female clockmakers."

"It would be interesting to see what she looked like in a dress, maybe."

"Why not invite her to the wedding, then? If nothing else, I'm curious to see what sort of dress she'll let me pick out."

"Why wouldn't she pick her own dress?"

"For the same reason you ask Bill's advice on what to wear for dates."

"Is Jessie hopeless that way as well?"

"Terribly. I can only hope you allow my future nieces and nephews to learn otherwise from me."

For some reason, that suggestion made me stop cold in my tracks and smile daftly into the distance for a moment. I seemed to picture a couple of little red-headed children in glasses happily taking apart a clock with their small, but still a little bit bigger-than-average hands. Perhaps they might even have her eyes. Ginny interrupted my reverie with a sudden snap of her fingers. "You were not just imagining that."

"Actually, I was-"

"You've been dating for less than three months. Do not pull a Bill on me, Charlie, or I swear I'll send your books to Percy for fact-checking. You may date my friend, and you may even marry her someday, which would be splendid, but you will do so after a decent interval, during which we shall all struggle to recover from l'affaire d'Phlegm."

"And, you know, win this war against You-Know-Who."

"Details, details. If you announced an engagement, it'd probably kill Mum right now."

"Then what, pray, will you do if Harry brings something sparkly for you sometime?"

It is not often that I make my sister choke on her gum.

"That's ridiculous. We're still in school."

"Yes, but while a thing like lack-of-a-job might stop, say, Ron, Harry has money, a residence and a pretty assured career in the field of You-Know-Who-stopping and tolerating Rita Skeeter. You never know. He might be ready to commit at an early age."

Why, yes. I do take glee in pushing her buttons. What self-respecting older brother doesn't?

"What makes you think I am, though? I think I'd prefer to have some fun before settling down."

"You've been through three boyfriends in almost as many semesters. Isn't that fun enough?"

"No, I mean real fun. Like playing pro Quidditch."

"Oh."

"Really, do you blokes understand anything?"

We had just about arrived at Gringott's, and I realized how strange it felt to walk past Jessie's shop without going inside. It might have just been the hours since Mum's lunch sandwiches, but I could have sworn I smelled roast chicken coming from the door-

-Which chose that second to swing open.

"If I'm not back in twenty minutes, be sure to turn off the heat and open the oven a little bit. And don't forget to put in the rolls when the timer goes." Jessie was calling over her shoulder as she staggered out the door with a big leather cash-bag; likely the weekly take from her register. I knew she made quite a bit more than my brothers, but a bag of that size? Maybe it was the month's take.

"Which one? This is a clock shop, Sis."

She turned completely around to face the person who had spoken, completely missing anything else in the Alley.

"The one on the oven, Ian! Do not make me fire my own brother!"

Wait. My mind jammed.

Ian Tickes was home?

Big Ian Tickes, the tallest Seeker in twenty years and the height-record holder for Ravenclaw?

Oh, shit.

It was, of course, at that second that Jessie crashed into me. The bag went flying, my clockmaker's feet slid right out from under her on the slushy cobbles, I caught her just before my own knees went traitor and deposited us both in the muck –all in all, a slushy mess. We heard a 'thwack' and our heads turned just in time to see Ginny had caught the bank-bag, which was the size of a Bludger, easily.

"Oh, well done!" a masculine voice called out. Ian Tickes himself, my old rival on the pitch and the star of England National, strode out of Jas. W. Tickes and Sons, a leather apron over what looked like a practice jersey. "You must be Ginevra Weasley! I heard you were a superb Keeper!"

"Hi, Charlie," Jessie greeted me quietly, looking at once hopelessly sheepish for falling and a little mischievous.

"Your brother-" I gasped.

"Is so fired." She staggered to her feet and raised her voice to the big man at her door. "You call this sweeping? I have a wet butt now, you great pillock, and now prob'ly I'll have to go change and miss closing time at the bank."

"It started snowing after I swept," Ian protested.

"And did you salt in case it might snow? No! Boy, for a Quidditch player, you sure can't do much with a broom," Jessie grumbled, stretching one of her amazing hands out to me. I reluctantly took it and was on my feet in another second. "Charlie has a wet butt now too, I bet."

"You think?" Ian asked. Ginny started giggling, the heartless minx. "Proof or it's not my fault!"

I had never been diagnosed with heart trouble before that day and I had done a fair job of keeping fit since my school Quidditch days. Nevertheless, I'm fairly sure that in the few moments after realizing that my much larger old rival was home and probably about to discover my romantic involvement with his little sister –and especially in the moments during which said female, with no warning whatsoever, gave me the most passionate and hands-on snog I had heretofore experienced (confirming my wet butt in the process, I may add,) in full view of said very big ex-rival…well, if I didn't have heart failure then, I'm fair sure I never will.

"Oh." Jessie seemed to suddenly realize how startled I was. "Ian knows, by the way." I looked over her shoulder and saw a gobsmacked, but not outraged Tickes in the doorway next to my own equally-gobsmacked sister.

"Come, Ginevra," Ian remarked. "I'm Jessie's brother, Ian. We must gossip about them roundly while they go to Gringotts with wet butts."

"I agree. Such behavior is not to be dignified with a change of pants." With that, Ginny plunked the Bludger-size bag of coins in my arms with an audible noise that may have been my wrists popping. As our siblings shut the shop door, Jessie looked at me with an apologetic look that had more than a little blush.

"Sorry…I just couldn't resist doing that."

"…Don't."

"Huh?"

"Don't resist. Not ever."

That mischievous look came into her eyes again. I'm pretty sure we must have scandalized somebody in Diagon a moment later –but there again, maybe not. I do seem to recall applause from the direction of Fortescue's.

"What've you got to do at Gringott's?" Jessie asked, taking back her Bludger-sized bag with one big hand before I could protest.

"You're awfully strong." She paused for a second, then kissed me yet again. "Buh-why snog?" I gasped.

"Not saying 'for a girl' afterward. I get that an awful lot."

"Oh." I recovered a little more. "I'm cashing a royalty cheque."

"Smashing! Was it a good one?"

"Biggest I'd ever had."

"Wonderful! Well done, you!" And then there was more snogging.

Jessie's shop, incidentally, is directly across from Gringott's. We weren't there yet.

"Um –yeah, I think it's from the publisher's merging up."

"Think you'll be in print overseas?"

"Maybe."

"That'd be nice. My great-uncle Emeric's in publishing. Wrote a popular textbook once, now he's some kind of editor. Lives in New York City, sends me all kinds of materials from America now and then." A horrible thought occurred to me –and apparently, at the same second, to Jessie. "Don't worry. He hasn't the vaguest notion I'm dating you –that cheque's on your own merits."

"You're sure? I mean, if Ian knows…"

"The Redferns told him today. After a bit of chat, he was fine with it. He even agreed to dispense with the usual hurt-her-die-painfully brother speech."

"How'd you manage that?"

"Cooking skills. That, and I agreed to go to the bank tonight so he could get to know Ginny. I suspect he may still gamble on inter-House matches."

"What do you have to do? Deposit the monthly take?"

"Oh, no, just the day's, and I felt I'd purchase a property." She went a little pale at my expression. "Oh, Charlie –I didn't mean for it to sound like that."

"Sound like what? That's amazing! You must be doing so well, and I'm proud of you!" She blushed and shivered a little (it was cold, after all, and we did have wet butts,) and I swallowed. "It is a bit odd to hear you talk of purchasing property the way I'd talk of buying some oranges for dessert."

"Did you? I like oranges."

"No, I was thinking cake, but…you can see why I looked startled."

"I'm sorry. I should probably have told you I was all right financially –except that I can't think how without sounding like I'm bragging. Ian tells me I've got what's considered a lot lately." She thought for a second as we reached the Gringott's door. "Why don't you just …notice while we're inside and that'll solve matters?"

I was about to agree, but just then a goblin appeared and actually opened the door for her. In the space of a few moments, three more had come, welcoming Madam Tickes, asking if she would like something to drink, providing a little cart on which to set the Bludger-sized coin bag and generally falling over themselves like…well, like men before Phlegm.

"I know I was just here yesterday, but-" The flurry of fuss-making continued unabated and Jessie shot me a pained, sheepish look before "Um, I'd like to speak with someone about buying a property, deposit some cash, the gentleman will be cashing a cheque and I think we'd both like some cocoa if you have it. It's cold outside." As if accepting her tasks as delegated, the goblins scurried off to do her bidding. Griphook himself hurried out and shook Jessie's hand, just before a fourth goblin appeared to take our coats.

"Property, Madam Tickes? This is a lovely occasion!" I had never seen goblins so happy to see anyone –and that included the time Bill had stomped into the Egyptian branch with a diamond the size of my head. "Of course, the gentleman's cheque will be ready immediately-" I felt my eyebrows rise as I took the bit of paper from my pocket- "and we're always happy to take your deposits." I bet! "We'll have some cocoa for you in just a few moments, can I assist you with anything else, Madam?"

This was disturbing. Jessie had the goblins acting like house-elves.

"Well, er- since you mention it," Jessie looked just a little nervous, enough that I could tell she wasn't entirely used to the goblins' eagerness to please, "I don't suppose you know where I could arrange two first-class tickets to Switzerland for tomorrow evening?"

Switzerland?

"I shall attend to the matter myself, Madam. To Bern, I presume? The Guild?"

"You presume correctly, Master Griphook."

"Then may I be the first at the Bank to offer my congratulations!" Again, the manager shook her hand before scampering off, presumably to go see about tickets. Another goblin appeared with cocoa just as a third ushered us into a plush office and two of the largest, softest chairs I had seen since the Gryffindor Common Room, already thoughtfully covered with warm towels.

A fourth goblin appeared and began to chatter with Jessie about property. She named an address and the goblin stated the asking price –which I thought exorbitant, and then, in a manner uncannily similar to the way she had haggled her Grandfather down on the price of the Diagon Alley shop's stock purchase, Jessie and the goblin hammered out an accord.

They both seemed to enjoy it a bit too much.

"Would Madam like to see our brochures on financing?" the little real-estate goblin asked, a split second before the other goblins in the room gasped in horror.

"No, thank you," Jessie said in the polite don't-care way Ginny might decline an offer of extra cheese on pizza. "I'll just pay with cash from my account, if that's all right."

Cash? For a building?

"I'll bring some smelling salts for the gentleman," Goblin Number Six announced.

"N-No, thank you," I managed to squeak out. "I'll be okay." Jessie leaned over and whispered to me.

"You okay?"

"You can afford all this?"

"Erm…well…yes, the shabby fact is, I can." She was redder than a beet-root. "It's all my own earnings, though, nothing inherited. No purebloody pole-up-arse airs from me."

"Jess…" I slowly began to smile. "You're…well…"

"Don't call me rich, Charlie. Please."

"Why not? You clearly are."

I noticed, at that moment, that the goblins had all disappeared. It seemed she was that wealthy. Goblin tact; who even knew it existed?

"You saying I'm rich…" she stammered, "especially when your family works so hard, well…it's like something between us. Like a wall, or something. I'm embarrassed I have this much. It's ridiculous that my watch designs and clock repairs bring in so much when there are people who are struggling to get by, and it's even worse that I've just saved it up all these years trying to buy the shop. So I've decided to do more good with what I've got."

"You're buying a building, Jess. With cash."

"Yep. I'll take an equity loan on it later in the year so I can buy out my Grandfather, just in case my git of a father decides to try and run away to America with his share of the business." Her brow wrinkled up at that. "Damned coward. And the rent will be plenty, even after I drop it by seventy-five percent."

"Seventy-five…" She wasn't. She couldn't. "Jessie?"

"Yes?"

"What was the address of the building you're planning to buy?"

"Bought, now, given that they've all scampered off."

"What was it?"

"Ninety-three Diagon Alley, why?" I could have kissed her right there. "And please don't tell me not to. The owner was going to foreclose and evict the tenants for the cash to flee rather than take the risk of riding out the war. I'm the Chairperson, what the hell kind of leader would I be if I let my people lose their shops?"

"You're like a Queen."

"No, I'm like a twenty-year-old girl with a great job and a wet butt…and something to ask you, too."

"What is it?" She looked so nervous.

"Go with me to Switzerland?"

"…Okay. Why are we going there?"

"I have to sit my masterpiece and…it's a little scary to go alone. So I ordered two tickets …figured we might get a date out of the whole shebang."

"Jessie…that's not a date, that's a vacation."

"And you deserve one! Published abroad and all!"

"You really mean to buy me a first-class ticket and take me along for a trip through Europe, just because you can?"

"Well, more like 'just because I have to go do some big, scary job stuff there,' but…yeah. I like spending time with you."

"You mentioned that your brother knows we're…together…how will he react to-"

"That's the thing. It was his idea."

"What?"

"Yeah. We talked about it –he says the worst thing about traveling is never having somebody you love with you. And he's right, I…" she trailed off. "Oh, wow. I really just said that."

"Yeah, you did."

"Well, er…" she looked very red and even more nervous now. "Um, I guess that came out a bit awkward there…"

"I think I understand."

"You do?"

"Yeah." I realized even then how flustered we both sounded. I still don't know how I went on. "Seems a bit soon to say, but I'm pretty sure I feel the same way, myself."

"Um…"

"Yeah…"

"Well, so…I suppose it's okay to ask your preference in trains and hotels, now, then?"

"Preference? I've never gone first-class on the Knight Bus, let alone rail travel. You've already outstripped any preference I could have."

"No, I mean…" It really is remarkable how Jessie managed to achieve such a brilliant shade of red. Perhaps being part Irish helped, or perhaps it was what she said next. "Just the one stateroom okay with you?"

I wonder how red I got at that moment. She hasn't said.

"Um…that sounds…"

"I figure, if anyone finds out, we can say it was to save money. They'd believe that from us."

"Would they?"

"Well, of you, maybe. Ian keeps making jokes about my collection of handcuffs."

With that extraordinary pronouncement, two things happened. The first was my accidentally snorting hot cocoa through my nose. The second was an unmistakable sound of scandalized gasping from the rough direction of the drapes. So much for goblin tact.

"I knew you got the one pair at Redfern's, but-"

"I've collected mechanical devices I find fascinating since I was a little kid, but especially things to wear. And, well, that collection just happens to include a fairly disreputable, if fair number of handcuffs."

"So you got them for the mechanical aspect. Makes sense. You're very good at mechanical things and all."

"Well, that's how it started." Jessie gave me a strange raised eyebrow before leveling an arch look at the drapes. Was she enjoying the shock of our unseen but obvious audience? "At first I was interested in designing watches that could lock on, for professions that might call for it and the like. But as I experimented, I found that there were many things about handcuffs that I enjoyed." I was probably scarlet by now, but Jessie's face had gone mischievous and she gestured toward the drapes with a 'watch this' expression. "The first time I tried some on, I was maybe ten, and I just thought the ergonomics could be better. But as time went by, I found that handcuffing myself to various fixed objects, in various states of dress, could be very enjoyable indeed. And so my collection grew, as did the number of designs in my sketchbook."

"You designed your own?"

"Oh, yes. And not just for wrists, either." I was rapidly becoming uncomfortable as she went on, though this was looking more and more like a prank on the conservative goblin bankers –who were probably horrified. "Perhaps it's my sensitive wrists. The Redferns were only exaggerating a little when they mentioned how strange mine are –probably a side effect of the big hands and all. And why not? I mean, really, when you think about it, the wrists can be as sensitive as the hands, except that they're rarely stimulated at all. We hide them under watches and shirtsleeves and apart from the odd cufflink, nothing really gets close to them. So when you latch on something metal, tight, with a chain or a hinge between that renders you totally powerless, no matter how damn big your hands are or how strong your arms. You're completely at the mercy of whoever locked you in, so, of course, you have to be quite careful who knows you like handcuffs."

I was, at this point, very uncomfortable. Not in a bad way, you understand, but pants, wet or otherwise, being what they are, and a disturbingly minxy side of your girlfriend being what it is, pranking the goblins or otherwise…I think my gentlemen readers will understand.

"It's really best to have someone you completely trust," Jessie explained, looking back from the drapes to me, her voice wavering a little bit, "and, you know, care rather a lot about. Naturally, I've kept the interest pretty quiet, up 'til now. Even the family thinks my collection is for purely academic and theoretical purposes –though I get the odd innuendo now that I'm out of school." It seemed that what she had begun as a mischievous bit of messing-with-heads had gotten a little too realistic, and she backpedaled. "Sink me, where can the goblins be? It must be close to closing time."

"Here are the keys and the deed, Madam Tickes!" Griphook announced, appearing with several other goblins seemingly out of nowhere. I wondered how many had been behind the drapes –to say nothing of what they thought. "We also have the gentleman's cheque ready –will you be depositing all, or taking the sum in cash?"

"Um –er, I'll deposit all but twenty Galleons-" I stammered.

"Very good! I also have the tickets for Madam, will the seven o'clock train suit?"

"Perfectly! You've outdone yourself!"

"I've also taken the liberty of arranging accommodations at one of the finest hotels for Madam and the gentleman. Here is the Floo number, feel free to contact Clawhammer there to specify your requests." Griphook handed Jessie a little card and me a small bag with my cash. "Is there anything else Gringotts can do for you this evening?"

"I don't think so," Jessie signed the deed and handed it back for a seal, then pocketed it –almost in her back pocket, before she remembered. "Are the Floo passwords for the property available?"

"Second page of the deed, the addendum near the bottom," Griphook explained.

"Excellent. I think that will be all today." Jessie shook Griphook's hand and pulled on her coat, before pausing suddenly. "Er…just a question though –was anyone listening to us earlier?"

To my complete shock, it turned out that goblins can, and do, blush.

"I thought so. Gentlemen, it has been a pleasure. I appreciate your unwitting participation in this market research for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

"What was that, Madam Tickes?" a very red Griphook inquired.

"Whether goblins can tell a prank is a prank or not," Jessie explained demurely. "Had a decent bet on it, you'll be getting the deposit soon. Have a nice evening!"

And with that, surrounded by gales of goblinish laughter and wearing her archest smirk, Jessie exited the bank. I almost couldn't believe her nerve.

"You deliberately pranked the goblins," I remarked admiringly.

"Looks that way, da'n't it?"

"I can't believe you pranked the goblins. Fred and George didn't think anyone could prank the goblins."

"I know. That's partly why I did it."

"To prove you could?"

"To prove it could only be done by double-blind deceit. You forget, Charlie, I'm a politician now. I can do deceit." In the wide-lapelled coat and her elegant shop attire, she did, indeed, have a mature, almost politic quality. "The only way to prank the goblins is to use the truth as your shocking material. Then, when you reveal that it's a prank, they believe you pranked them, partly because they'd rather not believe witches get up to that sort of thing and partly because they want desperately for the Chair of Diagon and whatever-number-richest shopkeeper to think of them as a friend." I must've looked confused, because she shoved her hands in her pockets and shrugged a bit as we walked. "It was the only way I knew I'd have the nerve to tell you without blushing, if you thought I was saying that kind of thing as a joke. But you should probably know the truth's sometimes the best weapon a prankster has."

Oh.

"To be fair, you did blush a little bit."

"Wouldn't you?" I took her arm in mine and she reddened just a little around the cheeks. "There are those who consider that sort of thing almost Dark, and even I was pretty confused by it until the Redferns –well, suffice it to say, they lent me a book or two."

"What did you find out?"

"Plenty." She took the deed out of her pocket. "So here's what I'm thinking. The password for your Floo is on here, which means you just need the pass for mine." A bit of scribbling with a Blood-Traitor ballpoint later, I had a scrap of the margin in my pocket. "After tasty roast chicken and heretofore-unacquired dessert, during which younger siblings of party the first and older one of party the second will no doubt make both parties blush with disingenuous frequency, may party the second suggest a private meeting in the quarters of same party to discuss the aforementioned issue?"

"Party the first is amenable," I answered, feeling myself grin at her use of Fudgian.

"Party the second would then propose the meeting come to order at eleven-fifteen post meridian, three seconds past the mark."

"Party the first concurs. Inquiries should, however, be made regarding party the second's acquisition of certain necessary articles deemed popularly prudent for certain activities to which party the first would not be averse, provided party the second is ascertained of the timing being appropriate …will be required?"

"…Party the second is pretty sure she knows what you mean…"

"Party the first would not be averse to making such an acquisition, and in fact offers."

"…Party the second was actually endowed with same by a certain triplicate third party, for reasons still unknown, given that party the second had –has never demonstrated a requirement of aforementioned articles," she was really blushing now, "given that the activity in question will be …an inaugural venture on the part of party the second."

That last surprised me, and it must have showed. Perhaps it shouldn't have, given 'party the first's reaction to what had clearly been an inaugural snog less than three months previous.

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Party the second is ascertained of the timing being appropriate?"

"Is party the first averse?"

I took her hands in mine.

"Party the first is…completely disgusted at the lack of appropriate verbiage to express his decidedly positive feelings at such a proposition."

Our verbiage went pretty completely nonverbal at that point. I knew it was still snowing, and I still knew we were standing in the Alley, but other than that, the world condensed down to just her and me for a few moments.

At least, until the sound of applauding from Florean Fortescue's intervened.

"Oh, dear."

"I think we've arrived, Madam Chairperson," I whispered in her ear. "Now…what shall I get for dessert?"

Her reply, suffice it to say, was decidedly Redfernesque and perhaps best lost to history. No, I think I will list it, you readers have endured enough with the Fudgian.

"'Sides me?"

She really does have a minxy side.