Oblivion: the state of being unaware of what is happening around you.
{===}
Benny Bones had worked in The Building for three years now.
I call it 'The Building', not out of any lack of creativity, but simply because that is the only name the grey monochrome slab of offices stacked in a Jenga pile, one on top of the other, has ever known to the few hundred employees who passed through its revolving doors each day. As far as they were concerned, it had no address, no traceable existence, and no record of being built or run by anyone ever. Nevertheless, like the stubborn relative who refuses to die, The Building stood on a corner in the West End of London, staring impassively down at pedestrians on the pavement outside day after day.
The sheer impossibility of The Building's lack of origin was, perhaps, not as much of a mystery to Mr Bones and his colleagues as it should have been. There is a very simple, very underwhelming explanation for this that I will take the time to explain to you now:
The Employers that owned The Building chose each and every one of their employees specifically due to a lack of creativity and curiosity that has amassed into a clear pattern throughout the individual's life. 'Individual' is, in this case, completely the wrong word to opt for. They were the most people people to ever people their way through the planet, each one blending seamlessly into the next as a sea of forgettable faces with boringly traditional names on the lanyards that hung around their necks. Hands were never raised, in-office parties never arranged and petitions to 'brighten the place up a bit' never proposed. In short, it was exactly the working environment that Benny Bones' parents had wanted for their child.
So once again, on that cold Valentines Day, he practically hid behind the oversized reception desk in the main lobby, too-big second-hand suit on as it always was, and broken-in-three-places glasses pushed right up his nose as they always were. Every now and then the swish! of someone else pushing their way through the doors brought a rush of chilling wind into the room, letting cold drip down his neck and coaxing a shiver from the fingers that rested on the frozen keyboard in front of him, poised for the first client of the day.
Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!
Benny rubbed his hands together for warmth as employee after employee traipsed through the revolving door and past him, up to the higher levels. Some wore cheap-looking clothes similar to his, some seemed to have splashed out on designer trends or coordinated fashion pieces, while a few, those that stood out from the crowd, glided through the rest in fitted uniforms that seemed to be a part of their body, as if human biology had changed to incorperate these new materials.
Those last people were the Employers, the people who Did Things on the Floors Above, work so important and mysterious that it required capitialisation to be properly understood. They stood out so obviously that watching them move through the wash of people was like watching trout navigate water, scales flashing colourfully in the dim liquid.
Benny smiled nervously as they passed. He had only been up the Floors Above once before, on his induction, but it was an experience he didn't want repeating. Regardless, a small post-it note stuck smugly to the corner of the monitor with the lift access codes, just in case. He felt his eyes unconsciously jump to the four digits out of instinct: Two-Four-Oh-Four.
Swish!
The doors completed a half cycle again, bringing someone else into the lobby of The Building. Benny glanced quickly at this new figure, and then did a double take. This person wasn't like the others. They didn't keep their head down, and move quickly on past to wherever it was they were going, or navigate the world in long strides, as if they were constantly late for some meeting or other. They weren't even wearing a suit.
The fact was that the boy who strolled into The Building that day had dark hair, slicked back out of his face in a way that reminded Benny of the boys who had shoved his face in mud when he was at school. His grey eyes were so casually confident that Benny found himself checking to see if this was another Employer, joining the lucky few, except for the fact that he was slouching, even as he moved over to the desk, and there was a grey hoodie that draped his figure.
"Hi." The boy grinned cockily. Benny glanced around, but the new guy was definitely talking to him.
"H-Hello." Benny greeted him, "Is there something I can help you with?"
"I certainly hope so." The boy informed him, "I think my uncle started working here a few weeks ago. I was wondering if you could tell me what floor he was on."
"Um." Benny's mouth was running dry, "Only employees of the company are allowed onto the Floors A- the upper levels."
"And," The boy put his elbows on the reception desk, grinning still, "What is that company, exactly?"
Benny spluttered, "Well, we do finances."
"Do finances?" The boy repeated slowly, sounding as though it was the most exciting thing is the world. He leaned forwards, whispering to Benny, "Is that what they told you to say?"
Benny pulled away from him instinctively, "I'm sorry. I don't understand."
"That's the great thing about the word 'finances' isn't it?" the boy questioned rhetorically, "It's a conversation stopper. No one really wants to know, so no one questions it. It's brilliant. Perfect. And meaningless. Everyone does finances. I counted all the cash in my piggy bank the other week. Three whole quid."
"Well... Done?" Benny was caught in the stereotypical British trap of politeness. It was inescapable and inevitably led to defeat.
"Thanks, mate." The boy sounded genuinely grateful, "Anyway, what did I come for? Oh, right, Uncle Shadow Man. Have you heard of him?"
Benny would have frowned at the boy had his job permitted it, "I'm sorry-"
"You said that already." The boy smirked, "It's fine though. I'll just text him. Thanks for your help."
And then he turned and strolled right back out again.
Benny stared at the boy's retreating back with a wash of confusion, as if he wasn't quite sure what had just happened. Looking for some semblance of reality to cling onto, his eyes returned to the point just above the monitor, where the yellow post-it was stuck. But it wasn't there.
The little note paper was gone.
"Did you..?" Benny looked up, but the boy, who had been only a few feet away, had disappeared, not even the swoosh! of the revolving doors marking his exit from the building.
The receptionist frowned for a moment, before putting the mystery of the disappearing post-it down to the stick on its back inevitably running out. He wasn't paid enough to wonder about anything darker going on.
Sighing, he looked out of the front of the lobby. The wall there was entirely glass, and he could see the building opposite, a cheap block of flats. Mostly it was uninhabited other than one apartment on the top floor, where Benny's parents, younger sister and Benny himself lived.
He couldn't wait to get home.
{===}
Remus leaned against the concrete wall in the alley behind the oversized block of offices.
His foot tapped a nervous rhythm on the floor, his phone was constantly jumping back to his palm, although his chances of getting internet access out here were shaky at best, and his battery was beginning to run low. At the end of the narrow street, he could hear the bustle of the London populace moving with the constant chatter of the city. Grey, stony clouds glared down at him from above.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, Sirius Black appeared, striding along the pebbled road with a casual arrogance that half made Remus wish he'd taken longer.
"It's definitely the one." Sirius said vaguely, "The guy on the front desk looked like I'd stabbed him when I asked what they did. Or, you know, that could have just been my undeniable attractiveness."
"Consider your attractiveness denied." Remus said flatly, "We already knew we were in the right place. Did you actually get anything useful?"
Sirius gave his friend a fake hurt expression for a second, and then pulled out a yellow post-it note with a florish, "Voila!"
Remus, rolling his eyes, took the note, squinting at the untidy writing, "What does it open?"
"The lifts, I think." Sirius answered smugly, leaning against the concrete wall, "There's a keypad there anyway."
"You think?" Remus asked incredulously, "Why did we let you do recon?"
"Because the Shadow Man has already seen Alex, and I'm the only other member of the Prophecy Duo." Sirius responded with a distinct air of dickishness, "Also, I watched James Bond last week so I'm pretty much a secret agent anyway."
Remus fired off a few quick texts, letting the others know what Sirius had achieved, and then leaned back against the opposite side of the alley.
"So." Sirius said at last, "Logan Mitchell?"
Remus shot him a withering look, "We're about to charge into deathly danger where we could all die very painful, very dead deaths, and you want to talk about my dating prospects?"
Sirius shrugged, "Well, let's be realistic, I'm not likely to get another chance, am I?"
Remus glared at his friend for a long while, but Sirius was just as resilient in his innocent stare, and in the end it was Remus who gave a defeated sigh, "He's nice. And different."
"He's been in our dormitory for five years now." Sirius pointed out, "What changed?"
Remus looked down. A faint blush was colouring his cheeks, "I went to visit Alex in the Hospital Wing, and I ran into him outside. He knows about her, and he doesn't care. He's always... It made me see all the things he does for everyone. All the time. Like, he leaves coffee on the table in the Common Room after a full moon. And he did Gideon's homework for weeks after his girlfriend was put in Saint Mungo's. It's..."
"Sweet?" Sirius asked.
"I was going to say 'incredibly attractive'," Remus amended, "But I was scared you'd insinuate yourself into my obsessive ramblings."
"That does sound like something I'd do." Sirius acknowledged. He titled his head at Remus, "Ask him out."
Remus snorted, "You make it sound so easy."
"It sort of is." Sirius told his friend.
"Oh yeah?" Remus raised an eyebrow, "Is that why you haven't asked Alex out yet?"
"I haven't asked Alex out yet becase she's clearly not interested," Sirius admitted freely, "And I'm not going to push her."
"Maybe," Remus said carefully, "It isn't that she's not interested. This year's been a bit weird for her. We're all used to this stuff- the werewolf thing, the Death Eaters, her family maybe being murderers, and whatever is going on with her no-fear thing. We forget how weird it is the first time around. It doesn't really leave much time for dating."
A slow smirk spread across Sirius' face, "So you think she likes me?"
"I wouldn't say that." Remus grinned, "But, you know, there's only one way to find out."
"For you too." Sirius fired back.
Remus shot another glance down the street, "This is ridiculous. We're stood in an alley next to some evil Death Eater headquarters planning how we're going to break in tonight and we got side tracked by relationships."
"You say 'relationships' like you mean 'giant evil death bunny'." Sirius said with a grin.
Remus rolled his eyes again, "I've had about the same amount of experience with both, so they have that in common."
A police car zoomed past the end of the alley, sirens blaring and blue lights dancing across the still slightly damp pavement like skipping stones. Sirius pushed off from the wall, "We should go. The others will be waiting."
"That sounded almost responsible, Padfoot." Remus commented, gripping his friend's arm.
Sirius smirked at him, "Well, I am responsible for the entire world, Moony. Maybe it's time I grew up a bit."
"Does that mean you're going to stop cheating at Exploding Snap?"
"Oh hell no."
Crack!
A stray crisp packet tumbled along the cobblestones of an abandoned alleyway in London. For a second, one of the people in business suits thought they had seen a flicker of movement, perhaps heard the phantom taunting of teenage boys echoing across the exposed brick. But they shook their head and moved on too quickly to be sure.