"Psst. Psst. Ignatius."
"What?" Ignatius straightened up. One of his coworkers, Martin, was peering over the edge of his cubicle. Ignatius had spent nearly six months working as an accountant at a muggle firm and was adjusting to muggle life. The magic resume had done him wonders.
"Are you free this Friday? I've got a date lined up for you."
"No." Ignatius shot back. Martin, upon meeting an awkward bespectacled bloke with a name like Ignatius, figured there was no way this man was capable of getting a girlfriend on his own. He'd made it his personal mission to find Ignatius a girlfriend and had already set him up on three blind dates, all of which had ended in disaster. Jennifer had been horrified to discover that Ignatius didn't like parties. Claire had called him boring after hearing that reading was his favorite hobby. Mary—and this was the worst one of all—had called him a horrible person when he mentioned that he was estranged from his parents. She hadn't even stuck around long enough to hear why. "No, I'm not free."
"Ignatius, you never do anything. What could you be doing this Friday?"
"Stuff." Ignatius buried his nose in his papers. "Look, I don't want to go on another of your dates that you set up for me."
"Ah come on, you'll like this one. She's my little sister."
Ignatius pondered this for a moment. "Well, you're all right, so she can't be as horrible as the other women you've found for me. But I'm still not interested."
"That's the spirit!" Martin beamed. "Look, I was telling her about you at Christmas. My other sister, Jane, said you sounded like you'd be exhausting to be around, but Audrey laughed and said you sounded sweet. She's your age—you're what, twenty-one?"
"Twenty-two."
"That's right. Fresh out of uni." Ignatius had learned to lie and say his previous work experience had been a string of prestigious summer internships while he was studying at university. "So is she. She teaches primary school. I reckon you guys might work out together."
"No."
"Come on, Ignatius, give it a shot?"
"No. All the other women you've given me have been horrible. Who's to say she won't be horrible too?"
"Mate, she's my little sister." Martin said.
"Little sisters can be awful too. They're not exempt." A memory of Ginny flashed through his mind—the door closing behind her. She hadn't bothered to stand up for him when things got ugly with George and with their father.
"Ok, ok." Martin amended. "I'll admit I fumbled the bag on some of the others, like Jane's friend Jennifer? She's awful, and I forgot how awful she was. But this is my little sister. I love her too much to let her get her heart broken. The only reason I'm even considering her as a possible match is because I do truly believe it has potential, and because I don't think you're the type who goes around breaking women's hearts." After a beat Martin added, "Her favorite book is War and Peace by Tolstoy. And I know you like that one too because you wouldn't shut up about it."
Ignatius bit his lip. He did like Tolstoy, in fact read it on his dark nights alone."Fine. But if it goes poorly, we're going to a pub next week, I am getting drunk, and you are paying."
"Deal!"
. . . . . . . . . . .
On Friday night, Ignatius found himself dressed in his best muggle dress shirt and slacks, with an overcoat thrown over the top. It was January and quite cold out. He still couldn't get used to muggle overcoats and the way they restricted your arms much more so than a wizard cloak.
He got to the restaurant five minutes early, figuring he would be waiting around for several minutes until his date showed up. Nobody was bloody punctual anymore.
"Ignatius?" He whirled around to find a woman at his elbow. "I'm Audrey."
"How'd you know it was me?" he asked, taken aback.
"Martin said to look for a tall bloke with red hair and glasses. There's only one of those around." She was definitely Martin's sister. They had the same brown eyes, blonde hair, and the nose that turned up ever so slightly at the end. But there was a softness to her features that Martin lacked. He always looked like a mischievous Santa's elf up to no good, but Audrey didn't. She was pretty. He felt himself relax as a waiter led them to a table. Audrey was punctual, so that was already a point in her favor.
"How are you?" Audrey asked timidly as they sat down. "Busy week?"
Ignatius nodded. "It was all right, actually. Not too busy."
"And my brother isn't giving you any trouble at work?"
Ignatius shook his head. "Other than him repeatedly setting me up on terrible dates, he's quite all right."
"I'm sorry about all that." Audrey said. "I don't think he'll let himself rest until he finds you someone. I just can't believe he tried setting you up with Jennifer. My sister Jane's known Jennifer for years, and even she was shocked that Martin would try her for a blind date."
"So you're Martin's younger sister," Ignatius muttered awkwardly as they began eating bread, "and you've got another sister—Jane, is it?"
Audrey nodded. "Jane's the oldest, then Martin, then me. I'm the youngest—actually no, not the youngest, technically. There's four of us—Jane, Martin, me, and David. David was the youngest."
"Was?" Ignatius asked. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry—"
"No, it's all right. David was born with a rare medical condition and passed away when he was only a few months old."
"I'm sorry." Ignatius said. "That must have been hard for you." He gulped and took a sip of water. The words sounded so empty, and he would know, having been in the same position. But he'd never been good with comforting people, so what more could he offer?
Audrey nodded. "It was hard for the whole family, especially on my mum and dad. Jane was ten, Martin was seven. I was only four and didn't understand it as much, but I still remember crying over his little coffin. I'm sorry, we're starting this off on a really dark note. You don't want to hear about my dead brother—no one ever does."
"No, it's all right. I have a dead brother too."
"I'm sorry." Audrey said. She looked up, her eyes finding his. They were astonishingly clear, like dark honey. "Do you want to tell me about him? You don't have to if you don't want to, but—"
"I have two brothers, actually. Fred and George. Fred died last year, in the war." Ignatius wanted to kick himself. The muggles didn't know about the war and he didn't have a good way to explain it.
"The war in Yugoslavia?" Audrey asked. "I know we have some British troops there."
"Yes!" Ignatius seized on her words. "Yes, uh, Yugoslavia. Fred died in the war and my family fell apart afterwords. It was a whole mess—I wasn't talking to them for a while, then we reconciled. Right after that Fred died and things went to shit. I'm back to not talking to them."
Audrey nodded. "We have an aunt we don't talk to. She tried to tell us that David's death wasn't a big deal because he was so young, and that my parents could always just have another kid. You know, as if David were a defective television that they could just replace."
"Grief just brings out the worst in some people." Ignatius said. "It did for my family. My parents—well, Fred and George were twins, see. Everyone figured that George was grieving, of course, and so were my parents. But me? Well, I'd just reconciled with them after having a three-year-long fight about something stupid—I was being quite an arse back then—but logically that meant that Ignatius never really cared about his family and he couldn't truly be sad about Fred dying, right? Absolute bullocks. Fred was my brother too, and everyone seems to forget that." He wasn't sure why he was telling her all of this, but something about Audrey made him feel safe. She wouldn't start a row or try to accuse him of being a terrible person.
"I can relate, kind of." Audrey said gently. "I was only four when David passed away. Martin was seven and Jane was ten. People seemed to doubt that I was old enough to know what was going on or old enough to grieve for David. My whole life, I feel like I've had to work twice as hard Jane and Martin to prove that yes, I understood David's death and I grieved for him too. It's just like you—people forget that he was my brother too." She looked up at him, smiling a little. "I've never met anyone who can even remotely relate to me, you know? I've met so many who don't even know what it's like to lose a brother, let alone have think you don't grieve for him."
Ignatius smiled too. "I also thought I was the only one."
Audrey sat back in her seat as the waitress brought out their appeteizers. "Well, that's all of our deep dark secrets out of the way, and we haven't even started the appetizers yet. Let's talk about something more normal. Martin tells me your favorite book is War and Peace?"
Ignatius beamed. "Yes. I quite enjoyed the historical sections, the ones about General Kutuzov."
Audrey began laughing. She had a unique laugh, almost snorting as she was overtaken by mirth, but it was never an ugly sound. "Of course you would like that section. All the human interest and intrigue, and you want the dry historical sections. Oh, Martin described you well."
Ignatius tried to look offended, but it was hard with Audrey laughing so much. Instead he began to chuckle too.
They spent a pleasant evening together. The conversation drifted to Audrey's job, and soon she was telling him about a student of hers who liked to eat paste and another one who'd gotten himself hopelessly entangled in his own jacket. Ignatius chimed in here and there, but it was difficult. Conversations with muggles were such a minefield due to the international statute of secrecy. Still, this hardly mattered. Audrey was more talkative than he was and could lead the conversation easily.
He didn't want the evening to end, but soon he checked his watch and saw that it was nearly ten in the evening. "It's getting late."
Audrey checked her watch. "It's only ten."
"I know, but I am on a rigorous sleeping schedule."
"But tomorrow's Saturday! You don't want to go do anything else?"
"I'm afraid I have to be in bed. I need my eight hours, and I am a wreck if I go to bed any later than eleven."
"Ok." Audrey snorted.
"But I would like to see you again." Ignatius said, eager to make this clear to her. "Please."
"Next Friday?" Audrey asked. "Same time? Only let's try a different restaurant. There's a Spanish restaurant I've been wanting to try."
Ignatius shrugged. "All right." He'd never had Spanish food before. His mother was an excellent cook, but she was also an old dog who refused to learn new tricks. She rarely tried recipes outside of their usual rotation. Oh, how his world was opening wide now!
Ignatius paid the bill and picked up his coat, privately grinning over the thought that he would not have to drown his sorrows in drink at the pub next week with Martin. He'd be doing something far more enjoyable—getting to know Audrey better.
"Did you drive?" he asked. "Come, I'll walk you to your car." He walked her half a block away to her car and watched her drive off, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. He hadn't planned to enjoy any of the dates Martin sent him on. His own life was in such turmoil that he couldn't picture himself seeing anyone, and had only planned to be polite to Audrey. But now he felt himself wanting more from her, a second date, maybe even a third or a fourth. He'd bared some of his secrets to her and she understood—and no one ever understood him or what he wanted. He smiled in the cold and darkness, feeling that Audrey might be anchor for him in this cold, uncaring world.