Lemon Grass and Sleep

BLISSFUL MORNING

"You know, Diagon Alley is completely boarded up by now," I commented, idly stirring my tea as I sat on the couch and looked out the window.

"Yeah, shame, did you see Ollivander's is abandoned now?"

"Oh," I sighed sadly, "Wonder where he went, crazy old geezer."

"We're doing fine, though." Fred assured, "No need to worry about that."

"Yeah, how are we doing fine?" I questioned, turning from the window to look at him. Fred was leaning on the kitchen counter, legs crossed at the ankle.

"I imagine it's because we've got a lot of regulars," he mumbled, "It's not like we're a clothes shop, students come in all the time to refill their stock."

"Mmm," I hummed, satisfied with the answer. "It's a bit odd, with Glinda not being here during the day anymore."

"More like it's nice and quiet," Fred grumbled, taking a slow sip of his tea.

"Oh, please," I rolled my eyes.

Glinda had been successful in getting an internship at the Ministry, surprisingly working closely with Percy--much to his dismay.

"You wouldn't believe how boring it is," she had finally complained after her third day, "Percy manages to make it sound all important--rubbish. They're giving us busywork to ghostwrite for them, because they can be shitted to do it themselves."

"Well, when do you get to do the fun stuff?" I had wearily asked.

"Oh, I've got to get into the training program first, then I'll start learning defensive and offensive spells pertaining to the job. Really difficult stuff, apparently, but I've got some ass to kiss before then."

Apparently her application for the training program had been sitting on someone's desk for approximately three days, last she checked. The Ministry was becoming more and more thorough in their investigation into a potential candidate's background around these times. Glinda said something about not wanting to piss off 'the wrong crowd' by accepting certain people.

"Opening up shop soon?" I asked, watching Fred shrug on his vest and begin to button it up. He was wearing his Wizard Wheezes suit, soft golds and oranges blending together against the mold of his body.

"Oh, I suppose. It's nearly eight, after all."

"You usually don't open until nine," I pointed out, "Why so early?"

"Well, I'm a bit bored," he sauntered over, taking my empty cup and putting it in the sink for me.

"I mean," I swallowed nervously, "I can think of some things that still need to be done?"

"Really?" He asked, his face grimacing, "I thought I'd gotten all the orders filled out last night?"

"No, you did, um," I sputtered, "I was, well, nevermind."

I folded in on myself at the poor excuse for flirting I'd just attempted, sullenly mourning what could have been. It was just a rare occasion, that's all, for both Glinda and George to be off somewhere.

"No, what is it?" He asked, crossing the room and standing in front of me. As if to act less intimidating, he lightly kicked my foot with his dress shoe.

"Nothing, really," I assured quietly, "You look nice today, is what I was going to say."

"Is that all you wanted to say?" He leaned down trying to catch my eye, "I'm not stupid, Tom."

"Huh?" He startled me, and I looked up with wide eyes to see him already having a bit of a mischevious look on his face. I'd been caught red handed, that's for sure.