Friday Afternoon
30 October 2009
Micah's POV
"Are you worried, Mum?" George asked, grinning at Molly as she wiped down the area around the sink once more.
I watched, fascinated, as the dish scrubber magically began cleaning one of the large mixing bowls in the sink and the rag that Molly had just now set aside floated over to wring itself out in the other basin.
"Of course, I'm not worried," she replied, turning and fixing her son with a stern look, and even though she wasn't actually upset, I could see why Ginny was terrified of her mom's wrath.
"It's only Harry and his boyfriend, nothing to worry about..."
"Yeah, Harry and his boyfriend... who just happens to be Malfoy," Ginny joined her brother in teasing their mom as Molly began putting the sandwiches she'd made on a platter, each one cut into four triangles, arranging them just so.
I racked my brain, trying to see what I could remember about anyone named Malfoy or anything else Ginny might have mentioned about Harry's boyfriend.
He hadn't had a boyfriend when I'd met him at his birthday party in July. A few days after Ginny and I had officially moved to the UK.
Honestly, the past few months had been a fucking blur... a happy, excited blur, but still, definitely, a blur.
I'd spent most of August trying to figure out if an odd-sounding phrase or object was a wizard thing or just British and trying not to get run over every time I used the crosswalk because I kept looking the wrong way to check for cars... even in London, where they'd had "Look Right" spelt out at, literally, every crosswalk.
I'd spent September mostly sitting in the apartment Ginny and I shared in Dufftown, where we lived in the Scottish highlands, staring stupidly at all the magical gadgets and reading every book I could lay my hands on, sure to learn more about Ginny's world, but also, hello?
Moving pictures?!?!
Now that it was almost the end of October, I was, once again, noticing the differences between life in Great Britain and America.
The more subtle ones, this time.
For example, should you ever find yourself rising from a group of British people visiting your girlfriend to make another cup of coffee, please, make sure you remember to ask to refill everyone else's cup, as well.
I hadn't even realized I'd done something wrong until Ginny had piped up:
"Erm, would anyone else like more coffee or tea?"
I could tell by her voice that she was a little panicked, and I'd turned to see some of the older faces looking quite taken aback.
Not angry.
Just... confused, and then that look everyone gets when they're like, "Oh, right, she does things weird 'cause she's American...."
Also, everyone here was so much more relaxed about drinking at work-related functions.
I'd assumed since Ginny was a teacher the first time we met up with some of her work colleagues, it'd be a water-only affair.
Maybe a Coke if we were feeling naughty.
But nope.
Even though it was a school night, several rounds of pints were enjoyed, and I wondered how any of them were going to get through a full day of teaching the next day.
Oh, and that was another thing.
You bought a round for the entire group, then someone else got the next round, and someone else the next.
This ensured that everyone got the same amount of drunk, I supposed, and I vaguely remembered being the amused one when Ginny would keep trying to buy rounds for the entire table when we'd first begun dating back in Boston.
Also, the first time she'd asked me to pass her the "Philadelphia," which, you realize, to someone who'd been born and raised in the US, in fucking Boston, no less, just sounded very odd because a) how could I pass her an entire city, and b) why the fuck would she want Philadelphia? (Cream cheese, btw. She'd wanted the cream cheese.)
But now I was the duck out of water and had to keep reminding myself not to make small talk on the bus or while standing in line at the grocery store (excuse me, supermarket) because that was a thing nobody did around here.
I hadn't even realized I was homesick... countrysick? (Is that even a thing?) Until one day, when we'd gone to Glasgow for a long weekend, and I'd seen a KFC and had instantly been overcome with an overwhelming desire for extra-crispy fried chicken with shitty mashed potatoes and gravy with a side of mac and cheese and their crack-laced coleslaw.
I'd burst into actual tears when I'd discovered that none of these sides existed here, and my only option had been the stupid, too-fat, not-greasy-enough potato-wedge fries.
Still, overall, I was ecstatic to be living here with Ginny and was looking forward to discovering how wizards spent Halloween.
I mean, Samhain.
Right, tangent much, Micah?
Where were we?
Harry, Ginny's ex-husband, and his boyfriend, some guy named Malfoy, who, for some reason, should make Molly nervous.
"He's changed, really," Hermione was saying from her spot at the kitchen table beside me.
On the other side of her, Ron piped up as well.
"Yeah, you wouldn't recognize him from Hogwarts. He's actually fun to be around now."
"You really wouldn't," George was musing, pushing away from the wall he'd been leaning against and taking a seat at the table across from Ron.
"Recognize him, I mean.
"He looks like a model, straight out of a bloody magazine these days, not all pointy and rat-like, like how he was at school."
"And how would you know what Malfoy's looking like these days?" Molly demanded, swishing her wand so that the plates and silverware came zooming out of the cupboard and set themselves before us.
"He stopped by the shop last week," George replied. "Was looking for some treats and goodies to send Teddy.
"Apparently, he and Harry have a little competition to see who can be the better godfather."
"The better godfather," Molly muttered under her breath as she sent a few bottles of mustard and jars of pickles to the table.
"I can only imagine what sorts of 'treats' and 'goodies' either of them would see fit to send to a first-year.
"Honestly, if Teddy gets into trouble because of the three of you, you'll be hearing from me and Andromeda as well, I have no doubt!"
She punctuated her sentence by having the platter of sandwiches set down with a resounding thud in the centre of the table.
George was just reaching for a sandwich when there was a flurry of noise and commotion in the doorway, and I recognised Harry from his birthday party.
I'd enjoyed teasing Ginny about how she, apparently, had decided to marry the most gorgeous man in England in an attempt to prove to everyone just how straight she was.
Because there was no denying that Harry Potter was a fucking good-looking guy, with those gigantic green eyes and his sultry little pout that I was, to be totally honest, insanely jealous of, all topped off with that gorgeously-messy mop of black hair.
It all made for a very striking package.
However, the tall, blond guy who entered just behind him was a different type of gorgeous altogether, and, honestly, given all the crazy magic shit I was learning that witches and wizards could produce, I wouldn't have been surprised if he had just actually up and walked off the pages of GQ or whatever.
There was something almost intimidating in his beauty... the near perfection of his symmetrical features mixed with the perfectly fitted suit and perfectly coiffed pompadour.
Harry still seemed approachable, somehow, if one were so inclined.
This other guy... well.
I think he was more the type where you'd wait around and hope he approached you.
'Course, I'd just sat around, sneaking glances at Ginny and waited for her to approach me, so maybe that was just how I operated.
There were resounding cries of "Harry!" as they all stood to greet him.
Hermione and Ron, I noticed, were quick to include Malfoy in their greetings as well, and I could have sworn that he seemed a tad on edge, too.
Then again, I knew Harry was an orphan and that Molly was the closest thing he had to a living mother, so maybe that was part of it.
"Hello, Draco," Molly said, turning to the blond man and holding out her arms. "So glad you could join us for the holiday!"
"Thank you, Molly," Drake, or Malfoy, or whoever replied, smiling and returning her hug so casually that I thought maybe I'd imagined the panicked look that had flickered across his face just a moment earlier.
"This is for you," he was saying, and I swear to fucking god, a bottle of wine just, like, magically appeared in his hands.
That shit was never gonna get old.
"Oh! You shouldn't have...."
"Ooh, it's from France!" she squealed excitedly, looking over her shoulder to give the entire table a thrilled smile.
"Sit down, sit down, dears," she guided the two men to sit, Harry beside George, and his boyfriend beside him, across from me, while the bottle of wine went floating off to be stored somewhere.
"We were just about to eat," Molly informed them, and I noticed that her mouth tensed a little, and, despite her assurances to her son earlier, I realized that she was definitely nervous to have Harry and his boyfriend over.
"Just some corned beef sandwiches," she went on.
"Nothing special.
"And Ron keeps complaining he doesn't like corned beef and insists he's going to fry himself some sausages, so you could ask him to make you a few when he finally gets around to it, if you'd prefer?"
"You don't like corned beef?" Harry's boyfriend asked Ron as we all began piling sandwich quarters, dabs of mustard, and pickles onto our plates.
"What's wrong with you?"
"It's just... they're kind of... dry, don't you think?"
Harry's boyfriend rolled his eyes as he dunked one corner of his sandwich into the mustard and took a bite.
"A little, I suppose, but, really, it's just an excuse for you to slather it with an unholy amount of mustard and to eat too many gherkins," he explained, chewing happily, and I decided I liked this dude already.
"When did you eat corned beef growing up at the manor?" Ron asked, dipping his sandwich uncertainly in some mustard and taking a (very) reluctant bite.
"This bloke I dated would make corned beef," he replied, dunking his sandwich in the mustard once more, then taking a bite of first the sandwich and then one of his pickles.
"He was from Boston and..." he'd looked as though he was about to continue when the knife on his plate gave a little jump, and his water glass began to tremble ominously.
"And, sadly, that is, literally, the only thing I remember about him," he amended quickly, his right arm sliding around Harry's shoulders to draw him closer, and, as the knife and glass stilled just as suddenly as they had started, it dawned on me that the shaking dishware was a manifestation of Harry's annoyance at the mention of his boyfriend's ex and I couldn't help but giggle.
"Which, I suppose, is fortunate, as it's relevant to this conversation," he added, dropping a kiss onto the top of Harry's head.
Harry gave a satisfied little smirk as he snuggled closer into his boyfriend's side and continued to eat his sandwich.
"When were you in Boston, Malfoy?" Ginny asked, and Malfoy's eyes turned to Ginny and I, seated across from him.
"Ginevra!" he exclaimed, and I wondered what sort of history these two had that he was able to call her Ginevra without suffering consequences.
"How rude of me. I didn't even say hello!"
His gaze focused on me, and I noticed that his eyes weren't blue like I'd originally thought but a wicked-cool-looking stormy mixture of blue, gray, and light green.
"And I don't think we've been properly introduced, I'm sorry," he said, extending his hand across the table to me, rising as he did so.
"I'm Micah," I replied, stretching my hand up to grasp his. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name... is it Malfoy?... or... Drake?... or...."
"Erm..." he frowned, glancing up and down the Weasleys lining the table as he sat down once more.
"Well, my name is Draco," he clarified. "It's an unusual name, even for a wizard."
Because oooh, boy, did they have some interesting names, I thought, nodding.
"But most people here call me by my surname, which is Malfoy... habit from school, I suppose.
"You can call me whichever."
"Draco," I repeated. "So, when did you live in Boston? Was it when Harry and Ginny were 'figuring things out'?"
I grinned.
Cheekily.
Ha, look at me, figuring this British slang out.
"No, a year or so after," he replied, grinning back at me. "Too bad, hmm? Could've been fun.
"Honestly, though, I loved it there. Don't know that I can eat lobster anywhere else ever again."
"Oh my god," I exclaimed, just a tad too loudly, maybe, but fuck it, I was excited, and Draco didn't seem to mind as we launched into a mouth-watering exchange of real New England lobster
"Hey, Harry," Ginny spoke around me as Draco. "Do you think you could come to my class one day to do a demonstration?"
"Of course," he replied, and Draco and I turned our attention from lobster back to them.
"You're at Hogwarts now, right?" Draco asked curiously. "What subject do you teach?"
"DADA," Ginny replied. "Why else would I be begging Harry to come demonstrate?"
"I should bring you along, and we could do a mock duel," Harry said, grinning up at Draco.
"A mock duel?" he echoed, raising his eyebrows disbelievingly.
"You and I, Potter? A mock duel? Are you joking?"
The rest of the table snickered at some inside joke, and I, like anyone not in on the joke, sat with rapt attention, hoping to be let in on the little secret.
"It's a shame we can't Apparate there. We could just head over next time we have a row," Draco continued, smirking down at Harry. "It'd be fun and educational for everyone."
The table erupted into giggles again, and I assumed the duo were known for some epic fights.
"Merlin," Ron murmured, eyes widening as he looked up from his plate to Harry and Draco. "I don't even want to know what your flat looks like after the two of you've had it out with each other."
"Things get... broken," Draco said with a shrug, in a way that made me think that when he said 'things' he meant 'everything.'
"Luckily, Draco has excellent Reparo skills," Harry added.
"What's that?" I asked.
"It's a spell that fixes broken objects," Molly supplied helpfully from her seat at the head of the table.
The empty glass to my right shattered into about a bazillion pieces suddenly, and less than a second later, the minuscule shards of glass swirled upwards like a sparkling mini-tornado, and the glass was back to normal.
"Really, Harry?" Draco demanded, glaring down at Harry. "Give us some warning next time. Poor girl's still new to magic."
"I... thought Draco had the Repair-O skills," I said.
"Harry shattered the glass," Hermione informed me. "Draco repaired it."
"But neither of you even had your wand out...."
I knew from Ginny that you needed your wand to perform most magic, which was how she'd managed to hide being a witch from me for so long.
She just left her wand hidden away whenever I was around so she couldn't accidentally use magic.
"Neither of those two need wands," Molly explained again. "Wandless magic is rare but not unheard of."
She picked up her own wand and floated the repaired glass down the table to her outstretched hand.
"Goodness, those are excellent Reparo skills," she proclaimed, turning the glass in her hands. "Not a piece missing, and Harry nearly turned the thing to dust!"
"To get back to your question, Gin, I'd love to come one day. We'll have to figure out a day that works for the both of us."
Harry glanced up at his boyfriend hesitantly.
"Do you want Draco to come?"
"Yes, but maybe on a different day," Ginny replied. "Or just for my more advanced classes, so you two don't terrify the first-years."
"Potter," Draco snapped suddenly, and everyone's eyes snapped back to the duo.
Harry's hand was snaking its way towards the last pickle spear on Draco's plate, and he glanced up at his boyfriend innocently.
"Don't you dare take my last gherkin...."
Harry paused, apparently gaging the severity of Draco's warning.
Then his hand darted out with lightning speed, snatching the pickle as Harry leapt up and ran back outside, Draco on his heels.
It took the rest of us about point-five seconds to follow them outside, and the two were already at it.
I assumed this was how wizard couples argued and reminded myself to seriously thank Gin for never taking her anger or annoyance out on me magically.
Don't get me wrong, they were laughing, and this was clearly a "play" fight, but it wasn't hard to imagine an apartment full of broken glass and furniture watching them.
Obviously, I had no idea what was really going on, except that sparks were flying, and suddenly Draco collapsed in a fit of giggles on the lawn.
"A tickling jinx!" he shrieked, clutching at his sides and laughing uncontrollably.
"You dirty bastard!"
Harry suddenly began dancing uncontrollably, and I joined the others in laughing my ass off because, damn, that was funny.
"Tarantallegra again?" he yelled back. "Funny, Draco. Find a new spell, why don't you?"
I heard a loud crack, and a branch began to fall from the tree just above Harry's head as Harry's dancing stilled.
The branch pulverized into sawdust, and Draco stumbled upright, a wand drawn in his left hand.
Harry had just sent a barrage of pebbles in his direction, but when they got to about three inches from Draco's face, they ricocheted off an invisible barrier surrounding Draco.
Harry's eyes narrowed in concentration as the pebbles drew back once more, and I felt an odd, almost electrical surge blast through me, almost like the waves that used to knock me over when we went to the beach in the summer and I saw a faint shimmering bubble around Draco.
Another blast of energy and the pebbles had re-launched themselves at Draco with renewed energy, only to bounce back off the invisible shield again.
Harry looked stunned for a moment.
"This is much stronger than your ordinary Protego," Draco taunted as the pebbles flew back towards Harry.
They weren't hitting him, I noticed, just zooming around him and chasing him like a pack of angry flies.
"Boys!" Molly yelled, although for all they seemed to hear, she could have whispered it.
Draco was suddenly jerked up into the air and, the next second, was sitting high up on one of the branches of another tree.
Half a second later, he was back on the ground before us, and Harry suddenly fell back as though someone had pulled a rug out from beneath his feet, landing sprawled in one of Molly's flowerbeds.
"HARRY AND DRACO!" she bellowed this time, and both men halted, although their eyes never left each other's and Draco still had his wand raised.
"We. Have. Neighbors!" Molly reminded them. "Muggle neighbors!"
"I'm sorry, Molly," Harry apologised, turning to look at her, seeming contrite.
"Potter!" Draco hissed, and I could have sworn they'd been playing, but he actually sounded angry as he continued to stare at Harry, his eyes flashing, wand still raised.
"Did you really just take your eyes off me in the middle of a duel?"
Harry turned back to look at him, surprised.
"Oh, come on, Draco," he sighed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "You're not actually going to hurt me."
"Oy, Harry," Ginny called out. "He's got a point. First rule of dueling!"
"Constant vigilance!" Ron added.
"Yeah, and had you done that about a decade ago, you'd quite possibly be dead right now," Draco added, finally lowering his wand and closing the distance between them to gather Harry into a bear hug.
"I'm sorry, Molly," he added, turning to face us all standing on the porch, still holding Harry in his arms.
"We were having a bit of fun and got carried away. If your neighbors did see anything, I'd be happy to help take care of it."
"What does he mean by take care of it?" I whispered to Ginny, a little frightened, because... well.
That just sounded intimidating, and, after the display of "fun" I'd just seen, I was sure I never wanted either of them to have to "take care" of anything regarding me.
"Oh, just a quick spell that would make them forget anything that they shouldn't have seen," Ginny assured me. "Like, you know, Draco scaling and descending that tree in less than two seconds."
***
Later that evening, we were all seated around the Weasley's living room, bellies stuffed from the excellent dinner of meatballs in onion gravy and a scrumptious dessert of treacle pudding, the latter of which Harry had had three helpings of, and was teased by just about everyone present for his love of treacle.
We had opened god knows how many bottles of wine throughout dinner, and once we'd settled into the living room, George had started floating around glasses of whiskey that, somehow, kept refilling, and we were all pleasantly buzzed by this time.
Draco and Ron were engrossed in a game of wizard's chess, with George doing his best to distract them with his silly antics.
Charlie, who had arrived just before dinner, was regaling Hermione and Ginny with tales of his work with dragons in Romania.
Harry and I were trying to explain to Arthur precisely the function of and how to operate a microwave which seemed to fascinate him, (both Harry and Ginny had warned me that Arthur's obsession with all things Muggle was something I should probably just get used to) while Molly was sitting by the fire, watching the scene before her happily as her knitting needles continued stitching this year's Christmas sweaters (at least, this is what Ginny had told me, and that I should expect one... probably in yellow because that was my favorite color.)
My attention was called away from Arthur when Draco stood, suddenly.
"I've got to go," he said, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit for what looked like nothing, but then a vial appeared in his hand.
"George, why don't you take over the game for me?"
"Where are you going?" Harry demanded, brow furrowing as Draco unscrewed the cap from the vial and tilted the contents into his mouth.
"It's a work thing," he said quickly, grimacing in a way that let me know that whatever the hell was in that vial was some nasty shit.
"Ugh," he shuddered. "I don't know if it's the awful taste or going from pleasantly sloshed to completely sober in seconds, but that will never get easier to swallow.
"Why are you being called to work now? You're an Unspeakable."
Harry had risen to his feet and was crossing the living room to stand before Draco.
"It's just a summons. Nothing to worry about," Draco assured him, pulling him into a hug, and I couldn't help but think that a summons didn't sound all that reassuring.
He tilted Harry's head up and gave him what seemed to be a lingering kiss, and when he pulled away, I noticed his eyes didn't quite meet Harry's as he disappeared.
Harry, whose eyes were already impressive, flashed as he rounded on Hermione.
"So... it's something dangerous he does, is it?"
"Harry," she replied carefully, licking her lips. "You know I can't tell you that."
"What's this summons thing? Why'd he have to leave so quickly?"
"It's the same across the entire department," she answered. "We have five minutes to Apparate to headquarters once summoned... otherwise they just... well. You end up going, it's just whether or not your Apparate yourself or they do it."
"Why aren't you going? You're partners."
Harry was clearly worried, and I wished I understood more about what this Unspeakable business was.
"We're research partners," Hermione replied, nodding.
"Apparently, whatever he's been summoned for doesn't pertain to my particular role within the department."
Harry sank down on one of the sofas next to George and grabbed the bottle of whiskey.
"Great," he muttered, lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a large gulp. "Just what I needed."