Chapter 2. James Potter.
"So, where are we thus flying at full sail?"
They came out of the fireplace hall at the Diagon Alley under the overcast sky that promised to open up and let loose a downpour – if not now, then in a couple of hours.
"If only we knew to which shop they were headed…" Scorpius pondered, looking around as though hoping to spot a red arrow pointing in the direction of their wives' shopping destination.
"Any one of them, really; and there are quite a few to choose from," James remarked expertly, zipping up his Quidditch team jacket. "Listen, the smartest thing we can do now is to go to the café and wait for them, instead of darting from one store to the next. There is really zero chance for us to actually run into them…"
Malfoy clearly did not want to sit idly and wait, but the first drop of rain that landed just then onto his patricianly-straight nose helped outweigh the load of his apprehensions in favor of the café.
"All right," Scorpius acquiesced, glancing at his watch. James grinned: it was as though he had made the most important decision in his life. Potter himself was certain that in no more than a few minutes the girls, wet and weary, would burst into the café, laden with shopping bags.
The chaps had scarcely entered the establishment when the veritable London deluge broke out. Their favourite table in the corner was vacant, which encouraged them even more. Well, at least at encouraged Potter – he reckoned that if they were lucky in small matters, they would be lucky in other endeavours as well. Malfoy, on the other hand, looked like he did not care where he landed his aristocratic derriere – he would have rather not landed it at all, but kept right on going…
Have you ever sat in a café in the company of a hyppogrif who was barely containing his anger? Well, maybe not anger so much as worry mixed in with a million other nuanced emotions, of which only the hyppogrifs are capable…
James was not going to reveal to his friend the allegories that his glassy stare fixed on the clock on the wall for the past ten minutes brought to his mind. Malfoy must be trying to force the clock to tick along either faster or slower, yet even Malfoys must be incapable of doing so – no matter how many rule books and codes they possess.
"Twenty more minutes," Potter noted with a slight smile, slowly stirring his drink, brought promptly by a familiar server. They were regulars here. "Do newspapers always do this to you?"
Scorpius threw his mate the most lethal glare he could muster, and turned his stare back at the clock. Right, tough luck…
James grinned crookedly, and looked around in search of something to distract Malfoy. He also was in need of distraction to ward off the Scorpius-relayed anxiety. His face was making James feel down in the mouth – concern for Lily's safety was always uppermost in his mind… That was understandable: even the healthy Zabini was not the most pleasant person one might encounter, and if she was now sick and out of prison… She could be counted on for a Malfoy-style prank, since the former Slytherin had remarked on more than one occasion that he and Zabini had a lot in common. And Malfoy would have never forgotten who had put him in Azkaban and for what. Even if he was out of his mind…
"Do you think it's true?" James made another attempt to get through to his friend. "That Zabini is sick?"
"She was sick even back at school," Scorpius chortled, finally taking his eyes off the clock – only to look at the entrance.
"I know that. Do you think that she has gotten a bit off her rocker?"
"Potter, I am not a simpering maiden or a gullible hamster to take or not take things on faith."
"I know, you are a ferret. Malfoy, you are insufferable today, which is normally my role. Marriage did not serve you well."
"Potter, aren't you hungry?" Scorpius crossed his legs and leaned back on his chair in a clear effort to relax.
"No, what I want is to know whether the newspapers tell the truth…" James also glanced surreptitiously at the clock, hoping that the girls were not running late; otherwise, Malfoy would blast apart half of the Diagon Alley.
"I am not Trelawney," Scorpius hemmed. "I do not have facts to have an educated answer for you, and it is difficult to build a valid hypothesis based on hearsay…"
"How is it that you weren't on top of this?" Potter said slyly, and was ashamed of it instantly, seeing his friend turn almost ashen.
"I was sure that it wouldn't be needed for another ten years or so… I shall yet find these sad excuse for healers that examined Priscilla…"
"First we must find out wives… I hope you are not being torn by the conflicting desires to kill Lily or lock her up and throw away the key?"
"Potter, have you ever seen a hedgehog with a flower pot over its head?"
"Fine, fine. I'll keep quiet. If you have decided to switch roles with me for today – I'll go along. As long as it's only for today," James conceded, glancing, once again, at the clock. Wishing they would show up already…
"If only we knew where their compunction to try on a thousand and one outfit took them…" Scorpius said pensively, and James all but nodded in agreement: "almost", because one of them had to pretend to not be worried. Otherwise, things would really go to pot…
Potter signaled to the waitress for more pumpkin juice (drinking anything stronger before lunch seemed wrong somehow, especially given the current situation…), while looking over the room, which was not all that full for the moment. Even his favourite café, the Hyppogriff's, failed to lift his spirits – must be Malfoy's edgy aura rubbing off on him.
Only a few tables were occupied – it was a regular work day for most people, after all. Unlike for the two of them: Malfoy was pretending to be busy, searching for something (a regular ferret without a tie), while Jim's morning Quidditch practice was over and the next one was not for another three hours. Xenia was due for the evening shift today (another lonely evening, but that's all right – there are always his sister and his best mate), and Lily was going to look for the rental space for a store she dreamed of opening. Something with the clothes she was always sketching, Jim hasn't gone too far into it. Yet.
As Potter glanced at the clock again, he noticed that the blonde girl at the table near the entrance was peeking at them. She was about their age, and very pretty, as James couldn't help but noticing. She was drinking something out of a tall glass. Books and a notepad lay open before her, and she took occasional notes while reading.
"Malfoy, do you like blondes?" James couldn't keep silent any longer, especially now that there was a topic for conversation.
"Potter, are you thinking about dyeing your hair?" Scorpius replied offhandedly.
"Ha-ha," James chortled, catching the beauty glancing their – or, rather Malfoy's – way again. "It's just that there is a blonde near the door who seems to be quite taken with you. Either that, or she noticed your toupee coming off…"
To Scorpius' credit, he was perhaps the only person of James' acquaintance who, upon hearing that, did not try to sneak a peek at the object in question. He made as though he hadn't heard his mate at all.
"Does she have trouble seeing my wedding ring?" Scorpius hemmed, continuing to x-ray the door.
"Maybe she wants to know what hair colour you use," Potter even cheered up a bit at his friend's momentary distraction. Yet, the anxiety inside both of them grew steadily, as the hands on the dial moved closer to two o'clock.
"Potter, you are just a regular riot today," Malfoy stretched lazily, as (James could swear it) his eyes met the eyes of the girl by the door.
"Well? Do you know her?"
"Never seen her in my life," Scorpius's voice caught imperceptibly, and James even thought that his friend saw Lily and Xenia, but the doorway was just as empty.
"You rotten liar," Potter said with a heavy sigh: he had no desire whatsoever to get into that part of Malfoy's life. His best mate had been around the block… "I just hope that she is not your mistress…"
"Yes, I guess I forgot to invite her to my wedding," Malfoy remarked icily, getting up.
"Where are you going?"
"It is two," Malfoy was clearly nervous as he tossed coins on the table. One bounced off, rolled and fell to the floor with a quite clink.
"Do you have an idea where to look for them?" James also stood, zipping up his jacket. His hands began to tremble, and his thrust them in his pockets.
Malfoy did not respond: he picked up the coin, walked to the cash counter, said something to the proprietor, an elderly wizard wearing a beret and a scarf around his neck in the summer heat, and then waved James over.
They silently exited into the street, drenched after a brief but intense rain: it was very windy, but the sun now shone high over the alley filled with few shoppers and many workers out for their lunch break.
"You go to the Madam Malkin's and I – to the Magic of Fashion," Scorpious said curtly, wrapping the scarf around his neck. "If anything – send me the Patronus. Meet up by Merlin."
Potter nodded, briefly watched his friend's retreating back, and turned away, impatient to find the girls. Walking along the sunny street, he tried to remember the last night's dream. He slept fitfully, because Xenia wasn't feeling well. And he was afraid to fall asleep. What would he see if he did?
This question nagged at him all the way to the Madam Malkin's. Even from a distance he could see through the window that the only customer in the store was an older lady trying on a cloak in an ugly shade of purple. James decided to look in, just in case.
The bell rang.
"Good day to you, sir," Madam Malkin smiled, turning toward him. "If you wait just a moment…"
"I just wanted to ask whether you had two young women in your store today: one a ginger and the other – with golden hair, both pretty…" Potter was feeling uneasy under the eyes of the older customer. Or simply anxious to hear the answer.
"Yes, they were looking for a warm cloak, in dark-green, and I am out of them today," the proprietor nodded.
"And when were they here?"
"About an hour ago, maybe a little longer."
"Do you happen to know where they were headed?" James felt calmer: they had been here, everything would be ok, they would turn up soon. Maybe even now they were at the café, chatting with the barman.
"I believe they were going to the Magic of Fashion," Madam Malkin responded a tad peevishly, clearly disgruntled at her competitor's advantage.
James thanked her and walked out, hoping that Malfoy has found them by now.
"Excuse me, young man," the lady who was shopping for a cloak walked out of the store after him.
"Yes?" he frowned, thinking that he had been recognized as a Potter. It happened often and couldn't really be helped.
"You were asking about the two girls who were here before…"
"Yes," Potter confirmed, with new interest.
"Before coming here, I was at the Cloak World, the one that's at the new wizarding shopping mall. They were also there. After they left, maybe ten minutes or so later, a young man walked in. He also asked about them. About one of them, to be precise. The ginger."
"What did he ask?" James felt cold inside, but tried to remain calm and rational. Too early to panic.
"He said that he was looking for his fiancée, because she had forgotten money at home. They told him that she had been there with another girl. But no one knew where they went afterward.
"What did he look like?"
"Hmm… Young, handsome… Jet-black hair…"
James was no longer listening – he dashed for the square with the statue of Merlin, hoping that Malfoy was already there with the girls. As he ran, he took out his wand, and the huge, bear-like dog cantered down the alley, a wordless call for Scorpius, wherever he was.
Almost at the same moment, Malfoy's Patronus appeared from around the corner, and James ran faster still. From a distance, he made out his friend's form, sitting on the bench next to Merlin. Scorpius was alone. And his pose – bent over, with his arms wrapped around his head – answered the yet unasked question.
Potter stopped at his friend's side, panting and gasping. His heart was beating out of his chest, but it was nothing compared to what he dreaded to hear.
"Malfoy!" his voice broke.
Scorpius looked up. The look in his eyes was alien, wild. In his hands he held a crumpled piece of parchment.
"I was too late," his mate's voice betrayed the panic that James had never seen in Scorpius before.
Lily. Xenia.