Harry Potter One Shots (Vol. I)

Bewitched (Dean Thomas)

"I'm going to think on it a bit more and I'll let you know."

"Just don't make a decision too quickly."

Sharing another goodbye, I rose from my chair and headed out of the building. On my way, I thanked the man behind the counter for his service before stepping out onto the quiet street and right into a gust of cold wind. Tightening my scarf around my neck, I tucked my cold hands into my pocket and let my right hand curl comfortably over my wand. I briefly contemplated casting a warming charm but thought against it. It wasn't that far to the nearest apparition point, anyway.

My route took me past a newspaper stand and I found my feet stopping in front of it. Paying for a copy, I picked up the nearest one and flicked through it, struggling a little in the face of the wind. But I did it nonetheless, wondering if the muggles ones were anything like the wizarding ones. Of course, there were no moving pictures, but they were just as full of unnecessary probing into the lives of others. The front page alone had the image of a woman featured behind a story, claiming she was married to a ghost. Not that it surprised me much - ghosts could be uncontrollable creatures, but it wouldn't be too strange for one to decide to make a mess in the muggle world.

I continued flicking through the paper when my eyes settled on a small advertisement, printed in simple text. It wasn't too descriptive, just a call from a painter, requiring a muse for their newest painting. Normally, I would have brushed right past it, had I not sworn I could hear Lauryn's voice in my ear, reminding me that I'd made a bucket list, shortly after her passing to try and help me cope, and on that list, I'd said I wanted to get out of comfort zone more. And Salazar's soul, this definitely wasn't in my comfort zone.

What could it hurt? There were bound to be more vile and disturbing ways of getting out of my comfort zone and if I was truly too uncomfortable, I could always decline and go on my merry way. Besides, it was a muggle painter, it was hardly as if anyone from my real life was going to view the piece of artwork.

Closing the newspaper, I folded it shut and searched the street. Finding a muggle phone booth across the road, I made my way into it. Shutting the door behind me, I didn't give myself the chance to back out of the impulsive decision. Inserting some coins into the machine, I dialled the number that had been advertised.

The voice on the other side, warm and kind, greeted me professionally. They took a few of my details and I gave them a false name, the one I tended to use in the muggle world only to be stumped when Fatya's current address sprang to mind. Offering up her address, I made a mental note to owl her once I got home. The short call ended and I hung up, putting the handset down as the surprise settled in. I had really just done that.

**********

Fatya, who had been roped into my newest endeavour with the indulgence only a true friend who'd known me for years could have, offered to drop me off at the studio where I was supposed to meet with the painter for the first time. Of course, when I'd first told her what I wanted to do, she'd thought I had been hit with some sort of spell that clearly robbed me of all sense. At my insistence that I hadn't been, she insisted that she needed to be around me to keep my head screwed on straight.

"You definitely have your moments Zoller," Fatya said with a sigh as her car - Salazar, was it bloody strange that she even had one of these muggle deathtraps, let alone that she knew how to drive one - turned into the right road. "For someone who doesn't like to go out on a Saturday night because it's hair wash night, you sure do have your moments where you just like to go for it."

"It's fine," I insisted, looking around the road as Fatya found somewhere to park. The road seemed pretty normal, with a few shops dotted at one end and the rest of the road appeared to be full of homes.