Cumshaw: a present; gratuity; tip.

April 9, 2000

On the eve of his twentieth birthday, Justin Finch-Fletchly wound up slumped at the bar in the Leakey Cauldron, basking in the comfort of an old friend and a glass of Firewhiskey on the house. The only other pub goers for the Sunday evening were a withered old witch content to puff on a huge pipe in the back corner, and a scruffy man who kept bent over a piece of parchment muttering to himself. Besides them, he and Hannah were the only ones in the room.

She leaned over the bar, watching him nurse his glass with sympathy-filled eyes. Her honey-blond hair was wound up in a long, elegant braid and her cheeks were rosy from work. She fiddled with a hole in the sleeve of her robes, nodding sadly as he finished his story.

"S'pose I shoulda seen it coming," he muttered, taking a swig of his drink. "I mean, I was practically gone for eight years. 'S'not like we were betrothed or anything."

"Oh, Justin," Hannah sighed, reaching across the bar to squeeze his fingers. "It's a rubbish way to find out, though, reading about it in the paper. The least she could have done was tell you herself."

Justin shrugged and stared morosely into the dregs of his glass. That afternoon he had seen in black and white font in the back pages of the city gazette that Ellie Washington was engaged to be married. Ellie Washingtong, his childhood best friend, his first kiss the summer he was fourteen, and the girl whose picture had kept a fierce desire to make it home burning in him as he'd skipped from safe house to safe house during the last year of the war. She was engaged, and he'd had to read about it among adds for kittens and yard sale announcements.

Hannah poured another splash of whiskey for him and he downed the burning liquid, relishing its scorching effect. He set down the glass with a clink and their eyes met.

"I feel like it's been ages since we've talked like this," he said, and he knew from her expression that he wasn't the only one remembering a few quiet moments stole behind the greenhouses more than three years before.

Everyone had always assumed Ernie and Hannah were meant to be when they were in school. It was common knowledge (at least among the Hufflepuff common room) that Ernie had decked Wayne Hopkins once for trying to make a move on Hannah. But there had never been any romance between them. Ernie only ever had eyes for Susan Bones and was far too much like a brother to Hannah for her to even consider the notion of kissing him without simultaneously bursting into giggles and wanting to gag. But Justin was a different story….

Hannah looked away, looping a finger through the hole in her sleeve and examining the fraying threads. Justin shook himself.

"Can't you mend it?" he asked, nodding at the hole.

Hannah shook her head ruefully. "I already have too many times. These are my only dress robes, too. I'd buy new ones, but a bar maid's salary is almost all tips."

"That's hardly fair," Justin told her, reaching into the swollen money bag at his waist. "Listen, Hannah, what would you say to –"

But at that moment, the fireplace in the corner erupted in a swirl of green flames. Justin didn't miss the way Hannah beamed when Neville Longbottom tumbled out onto the hearthrug. Nor did he miss the flower Neville proffered to her as she hurried out to help him back to his feet.

"I clipped it from the greenhouse today," he said, blushing. "Are you ready to go?"

"Nearly," she told him. She bit her lip and glanced over at Justin, who shrugged, giving her a rueful smile. "I've just got to clean up a bit, clear out the room…."

"I'll give you a hand," Neville offered brightly. "I'll take care of the dishes while I'm putting that in some water." He gently took the rose back from her, waving at Justin as he disappeared into the kitchen.

"When'd you two get together?" Justin asked, raising an eyebrow at Hannah.

She turned bright pink. "We're hardly 'together'," she said, swatting his arm with her rag as he smirked. "We're good friends."

"He brought you a flower."

"Yellow roses symbolize friendship."

Justin shook his head, grinning down at her. "Any bloke who brings you a rose doesn't just want to be your friend."

Hannah didn't seem to have a response to that, so she went to chivy the pipe-smoking witch and the mumbling warlock out the door. Justin watched her wipe down the tables with a far-off expression.

Then the kitchen doors burst open again and Neville came back round the bar. "All finished up in there," he announced.

"Me too," said Hannah somewhat breathlessly, straightening up and fumbling with the strings of her apron.

Neville stepped forward to help. "You look nice," he told her.

Hannah ducked her head, smiling broadly. "You too."

Justin saw her tug at the sleeve of her robes, covering up the splitting seem.

"I can close up if you want, Hannah," he said, sliding off the stool. "What? You can trust me!" he protested when she gave him a skeptical look.

"Well, if you promise," she laughed, pulling her key out and pressing it into his palm. "I really am sorry," she added earnestly, looking into his face. She slipped an arm around his waist in a fleeting hug before she and Neville strolled out, hand in hand.

Alone in the bar, Justin went behind the counter and found the glass jar Hannah kept her tips in. Very serenely, he undid the chord of his money bag and tipped it upside-down over the mouth of the jar. A cascade of silver and gold coins shshed into the half-full container of mostly bronze. Then he put it back where he found it and went on locking up.

A/N: A bit on the longer side, isn't it? Don't know where this came from, but I do like those Hufflepuffs. :) Anyway, I read a fascinating essay on the HP lexicon analyzing the names of the 'original 40' from Harry's year, and based on some pretty accurate (and cool, I, the sociology nerd, think) human geographic stuff, it seems pretty likely that Justin, while a Muggle-born, so basically still an underclass citizen in the wizarding world, was loaded. His family is supposed to be as rich as the Malfoys, only no one at Hogwarts really knows it. So I dunno if that interests you or colors this chapter different, but I thought I'd share it as it seemed important to me.

Also, I've had a story (kind of a sad one) planned out for Justin for quite some time, and here is the first real snippet of it to hit the light, so I'm rather fond of this chapter. Don't worry, there's no impending love triangle between Neville, Hannah, and Justin. Just some old caring that probably never goes away entirely. Don't worry, Justin was never in love with Hannah.

But anyway…