Flight of the Stars

Chapter Eighteen

Cecily smiled. "Just leave that to me."

o-0-o

That Saturday, during the scheduled Hogsmeade weekend, Cecily, Hermione, Lucretia, and Oraia stopped by The Three Broomsticks. Cecily was running everything she planned to say through her mind. She wasn't entirely sure this would work – she had never tried anything like this before – but she did want to work for the Daily Prophet as a reporter, so perhaps the practice would come in handy.

It was just the four of them, since she had learned that people in general were much less wary of a group of girls than a group of boys. She didn't much like this stereotype, but it did have its uses. Like today. She squared her shoulders. She would not fail.

The day was pleasant, but warm enough that they had all shrugged off their robes before stepping inside the tavern. A large fire was still being stoked in the fireplace in the back, giving off a fair amount of heat. Cecily wished she could just douse it. It looked like a lot of customers would be grateful.

They stepped up to the counter, where Madam Irma was pouring drinks for a few of her clients, roaring with laughter at some of their off-color jokes. Her hair was dyed an unnatural shade of red. Cecily grimaced but cleared her throat and put on her best smile.

Madam Irma finally turned toward them. "Yes, what can I get you, dears?" She had the air of someone who was talking to a child.

"I'd like four Butterbeers, please," Cecily said, smiling painfully. She would do this.

The curvy woman nodded shortly and poured the drinks into four mugs, the tops overflowing with foam. Well. However much she didn't like her, the drinks were fantastic.

She placed four Galleons on the counter – it was a bit much, but maybe it would put her in a good mood – and brought the Butterbeers over to a table close by.

The plan was rather simple, really. They sat down, drinking very slowly so they would last longer, not speaking. Hermione was fiddling with her wand a bit. Lucretia was combing out her hair. Oraia had a small crease between her eyebrows.

"And now we wait," Hermione said quietly.

"And now we wait," Cecily agreed.

She strained her ears to hear any snatches of conversation over the loud customers at the bar and failed completely. They stayed at that table a long time, even finishing their Butterbeers, and by the time it was low afternoon, they were extremely bored but had gained a lot of useless gossip, gossip that had nothing to do with what they were listening for. Finally, the loud, drunk clients at the bar left and Cecily smiled. "Showtime."

She staggered up to an empty seat at the bar, hiccupping violently. "Hi!"

Madam Irma laughed loudly. "Are you drunk, honey? You're a bit underage, don't you think?"

She hiccupped again, then laughed. "Me? I'm not... I'm not... not... drunk! You're silly!" She collapsed into giggles, and Madam Irma chuckled.

"Here, have another one! It's on me."

Cecily stared at her with wide eyes. "No! No, you should... should... is it hot in here? Ooh, you know... you know what? You should get a drink for yourself!" She giggled uncontrollably.

Madam Irma laughed uproariously, banging a fist on the counter. "You know what, I think I will! What's your name, child?" She poured out a mug of firewhiskey, and Cecily hiccupped.

"Jane... I think. I forget from time to time. Get it?" She giggled again. She cast a glance to the side to see Hermione, Lucretia, and Oraia doubled over in silent laughter. "Well? Are you... are you gonna drink it?"