It Happened One Night
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Faith and Dawn belong to Joss Whedon, and Draco etc. belongs to JK Rowling
Saturday 18th August 2007
Percy Weasley was the famous, youngest ever, hardworking, Undersecretary of Magical Transportation. Percy was devoted to his Muggle slayer wife Faith Lehane Weasley. He was a conscientious young father to his baby son Frederick.
Auburn haired Frederick Angel Weasley, was more commonly known to his surprisingly doting father, and his not as indifferent as she’d thought she’d be mother, as Rick. Frederick was named after his deceased Uncle Fred. (Fred Weasley had been killed tragically in his prime in the ongoing Wizarding War.)
Percy Weasley was also a damn loyal friend to his professional Quidditch playing mates Oliver Wood and Aidan Lynch. Wood and Lynch were top notch blokes. Salt of the earth types certainly, with a huge capacity for drink. That was why all three of the friends were currently off their faces. Three sheets to the wind, lurching along the alley that led to Grimmauld Square. Singing drunkenly off key, a song they thought captured their mood at the moment.
“First I drank the whiskey, then I drank the gin, I tried to make the toilet and I broke my fuckin’ shin.” Percy, Oliver and Wood chorused. They were making unsteady progress towards a renovated townhouse. Faith and Percy had moved into it in January that year.
The three men were too drunk to apparate safely. Responsibly they had caught the Knight bus home from the clubhouse of Wood’s Quidditch team.
“Psst, is Faith going to be narked off at us, Percy laddie?” Oliver slurred concerned.
Percy unlocked his front door, leading them furtively inside.
Percy searched around for the family dog, a beguiling stray black rottweiler. The canine appeared on the Weasleys’ front door step, the day Percy and Faith had brought baby Rick home from a Muggle Birthing Unit.
Faith insisted on delivering in a Muggle Birthing Unit. With her slayer strength Faith had whelped Rick out with ease, much to her sister in laws jealousy. Weasley babies had big heads.
Strange - ‘Rotty’ normally barked when Percy brought friends home. The dog was so protective of young Rick. It was touching to see the canine devotion the dog displayed to the family.
“Angry, Faith? No, of course not. Faith’s unflappable Wood. Completely and utterly blimmin’ unflappable.” Percy reassured him, wagging his finger at Wood uncoordinatedly. Percy led his drunken chums into the front living room.
“Nothing excites the woman, she’s seen everything.” Percy continued, calling out as he raided the kitchen.
He retrieved Faith’s Muggle beer out of the refrigerator, for the chaps to sample as it were. “And I mean bloody everything! Gods, some of the stories I could tell you about her would make your hair fall out, Wood. Seriously though, Faith’s as bloody stable as the Rock of Gibraltar. It’s one of the many, many things I love about her. Gods, I must have overindulged, raving on like some lovesick poofter.”
Faith’s footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.
“Faith me darlin’! Come join us in a drink!” Aidan Lynch entreated his mate’s wife. The footsteps drew near. “Come join us in several!”
Faith came into the living room, dressed in her black kimono. She was holding her gurgling baby son tucked securely under her left arm. She bore a sword dripping with blood in her free right hand.
“Oh hey guys. Keep it down thanks huh?” Faith requested reasonably. “I‘m about to try and get junior here off to sleep.”
“Where’s Nanny Black?” Percy inquired, gesturing for Wood and Lynch to help themselves to the beer he had placed before them. “It isn’t her night off is it?”
What in blazes had Faith been doing? Percy’s inebriated brain couldn’t work out why she was bearing a bloodied sword.
“Oh yeah, I kinda had to kill the Nanny a few minutes ago.” Faith informed her husband calmly. “We’re gonna have to owl that wizarding nanny agency tomorrow, for a replacement for the chick. I’m gonna start work again next week, remember?”
Faith turned her attention to an open mouthed Wood. “Holy crap, where are my freaking manners?” Faith gave a friendly nod to her husband’s best friend. “How did ya Quidditch match go today, Wood? I guess your team won huh?”
Buffy Summers and Andrew Well's apartment
Twenty five year old Andrew Wells was a changed man, who constantly sought redemption for his terrible past sins. He had started off his career in evil by merely summoning winged monkey demons to attack his High School’s Production of Romeo and Juliet, when he was seventeen. His morally downwards path hit bottom when he had murdered his best friend.
Therefore, Andrew was lucky that the huge hearted Buffy Summers had taken him into her home, like every other waif and stray that crossed her path. He had been first her hostage, then house guest and currently room mate for over five years now. He knew her better than probably any other male alive or dead, apart from Xander or Giles.
This history made it hard for Andrew to bite his tongue, sit on their couch, and attempt to watch his favorite Italian TV program. Andrew felt compelled to intervene, in the epic domestic argument taking place in Buffy’s bedroom at present.
“So that's it, huh?” Buffy was shaking with rage over the terrible thing she had just discovered. “I remember the drill. Once your girlfriends’ hit twenty five, next one's located! Only way you can keep being immortal, sleeping with girls under twenty eight. I wondered who you’d got lined up. Well I guess I know now.”
“Buffy, I...” The Immortal stammered embarrassed. He hadn’t organized that strange requirement to be immortal, it was part of his curse. Normally he tried to get involved with gold diggers, not girls he cared about, for this very reason.
“Do you know how this kills me? Do you think it doesn’t hurt?” Buffy spat at him in contempt.
Tears were flowing freely from her eyes. The Immortal tried to hug her. Buffy put up her hands, stepping angrily away from her lover.
“Don't touch me!” She shouted at him. “Were you even gonna tell me? Or were you gonna leave it up to her?”
“It's not that simple.” The Immortal tried again to take her in his arms to calm her down.
“I'm making it that simple!” Buffy threw a famed photo of them taken inside the Vatican, at him. “We’re over! Get out of my home, I hate you!”
“You don’t hate me, Buffy.” The Immortal disagreed, deflecting the flying missile deftly. “I know this is hard but…”
“What do you care? Just so long as you're never gonna die!” Buffy screamed at him, shaking in her blinding fury. “You’re a neutral colossus straddling the freaking world. Well you’re not straddling the Summers’ women anymore okay? Not me! And definitely not my kid sister!”
Industrial Muggle Town
Snape opened the door to the girl at eleven pm. She was still breathtakingly lovely to him. Dressed in her Muggle jeans and halter neck top, revealing her bare arms. Her long brown hair falling glossily down her back. Her eyes as blue as ever. He hadn’t seen her in over six months. He had last run into her in Diagon Alley, they had had lunch together, then gone their separate ways once more.
“Thanks for this, Snape.” Dawn said crossing his threshold. She passed him her buzzard's cage. “I can’t thank you enough for taking me in without like a moment’s pause, no questions asked.”
“I’m always at your disposal, Miss Summers." Snape told her sincerely. Putting her buzzard Cuddles safely on a stand in the living room. “I’ve made your old room up for you.”
Dawn noticed the changes in his house since she had last been there. Everything seemed fixed up. She had noticed the For Sale sign on the front exterior wall of his house.
Dawn sat on the single bed of her bedroom. She curled her feet up and put her arms round her knees. She wanted peace, quiet, calm. Not to be some unwitting third wheel in her sister’s dumb soap opera in Rome.
Snape knocked on her bedroom door.
“Come in.” Dawn said flatly.
Snape came in with a glass of hot milk for her. “I thought it would help you sleep. Excuse me for being personal, but you look weary, Miss Summers.”
“I am.” Dawn took the milk from him.
“Goodnight Miss Summers.” Snape started to walk out of her room. “Some people say that things always look better in the morning. But then some people also say you can see things clearly in the harsh light of day.”
“So what do you say Professor Snape?” Dawn asked him, her mouth quirking in a half smile.
“Life’s a bitch and then you die, not original but a statement I consider has remarkable validity.” Snape sneered in the familiar way Dawn had always found amusing. He winked at her, closing the door behind him as he left.
The Grangers’ House
In the darkened bedroom two sorrow filled lovers writhed on a modern innersprung single mattress. Both seeking physical comfort from one another.
The comely nurse wrapped her legs around her lover’s waist, wantonly arching her back, encouraging him to increase the depth of his remorseless penetration inside her.
The hard muscled soldier wrapped his fist in the girl’s long hair. He pulled her head towards his, devouring her lips once more in an aching kiss of merciless desire.
She was hurtling towards the deep abyss of her release. Plunging down the cliff face of her climax. Frightened by its force. Her fingernails raked across the young man’s back, leaving welts. Her sexual partner paused for a second, ouch. He proceeded to fornicate with her, heedless of the fleeting pain. The soldier was unappeasably driven in his own seeking of physical fulfillment. Pushing in and out of her pitilessly, until he spurted his essence into her compliant and willing body.
The couple avoided meeting each other’s eyes in the room’s dimness. They lay motionless, entwined in a sweaty embrace for several minutes. The soldier went to stroke the girl’s back. She tensed automatically. They released each other and sat up.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” the soldier asked, getting out of bed. He pulled on his trousers.
“Er, yes I do actually.” The girl informed him. She relented. “Open the window okay? God, addict.”
The soldier rolled his eyes. He opened the window and leaned out. He looked at the moonlit suburban back garden in disbelief. It all seemed not just physical miles, but a universe away from the horrors of the Bulgarian Front. Granger’s parents had a bloody goldfish pond for the Dark Lords’ sake.
“I must say Granger.” The soldier smirked, as he lit his cigarette. “I never suspected you were such a tiger in bed. My back’s bleeding.”
“Is that so, Malfoy? I never suspected you could last longer than two minutes in the sack.” Hermione sneered in turn, feeling her cheeks going pink in the darkness at her uncouth comment.
“Really? I think the biggest wonder was me getting it up in the first place, it was you I was rogering after all.” Draco stated cruelly. Granger had traded the first verbal blow, Draco defended his pricking conscience.
“Oh my god, you’re such a bastard! You can’t be decent for more than a minute at a time, can you Malfoy?” Hermione threw her pillow at him, goaded into annoyance by their pettiness to one another. From the moment Draco had finally withdrawn himself from her satiated body, she realized they wouldn’t be able to prevent themselves insulting each other like a pair of kids.
“Careful, you almost set your twee curtains on fire just then, Granger.” Draco warned her, as he ducked the oncoming missile.
“Well if you didn’t bloody smoke…. Hell, I don’t give a toss, please by all means, carry on killing yourself.” Hermione sighed, walking over to her wardrobe to retrieve her cotton summer dressing gown. She disappeared out of her room to use the loo.
When she returned, Draco was still gazing entranced out her window.
“What is so fascinating about our back garden, for god’s sake?” Hermione inquired, coming up behind him. Hermione could see nothing out of the ordinary about her Mum and Dad's vegetative pride and joy.
“It’s that whopping great big flower bed your parents have in the middle of it. Nott was right. Your garden's actually quite pretty in its own mediocre Muggle way. He described it to us once, we had been bogged down in the trenches four days in a bloody row because of the rain.” Draco mused, flicking his butt out into the garden. He sensed Hermione stiffen in outrage as his littering.
“Here!” Draco took his wand out of his trouser pocket and zapped the butt. It disappeared. “Happy?”
“No! My fiancé was killed six weeks ago. And now I’ve just shagged someone I spent over seven years hating!” Hermione snapped at him despairingly. “Someone who was meant to be one of Theo’s best friends!”
“Nott wouldn’t mind that we … He’d find it bloody funny.” Draco sighed, trying to reassure both of them. Trying to lessen their sense of shame.
“Yeah, I know. I can hear him in my head. ‘Fuck! Malfoy eh? You’re a riot Granger. Did I ever tell you that?’” Hermione’s traitorous tear ducts began producing further oceans of salty tears. Her tears had flown constantly this week during her leave. She hadn’t cried much in Bulgaria. She had been too busy nursing the countless wounded. There had been no time to wallow in her justifiable grief.
Draco enfolded her reluctantly in his arms. “You have to stop, or I’ll just end up shagging you again Granger. I can never handle crying females, even a repressed cow like you.”
“What makes you think you’re ever getting an encore performance in my bed, you hateful prick?” Hermione sobbed against his chest. But she was already aware of his male hardness pressing against her through his trousers. She raised her tear stained face to enable them to kiss. Draco Malfoy wasn’t really her enemy anymore these days, but she still despised him.
Wizarding Brit’ Bar
Amy Madison strode on top of the bar, clad in her tacky cowgirl outfit of denim shorts, a knotted gingham blouse baring her flat stomach. The customers loved this Western slut crap and it guaranteed tips.
Greece was neutral in the wizarding wars. It was a good base for undercover assignations and meetings.
Amy poured a shot of tequila into some moron’s mouth. She squeezed lemon juice on top, then nudged his face away with her cowboy boot. The punter removed his head from the bar counter and stuck a bronze knut down her boot. How cheap could you get? Tight ass.
The bar’s music changed to the wizarding band ‘The Weird Sisters’ cover of ‘Frankie goes to Hollywood’s’ ‘War’. This was the theme song of the night to dance to. Unable to believe how demeaning her current job was, Amy slapped her thigh and did a dance on the bar counter with another barmaid.
What is it good for?
Say it again”
Amy mouthed along to the songs lyrics, rubbing her back suggestively against her coworker’s. Fighting to keep her balance on the slippery surface awash with spilled beer, attempting not to fall flat on her ass.
In a darkened corner, three men were watching the witch's reluctant antics with interest.
“So you both know that young woman?” Remus Lupin, the coordinator for the Ministry of Magic’s spies commented, to his two table companions. “Extraordinary coincidence.”
“Yeah, small world.” Daniel Osbourne, werewolf, musician and insurgent spy raised his eyebrows. Amy had stumbled, nearly falling off the bartop into the arms of the bar’s baying patrons. “I kinda knew her back in Sunnydale High. Ames was a rat in a cage, living in my ex girlfriend’s college dorm room last I saw her.”
“Amy mentioned to me she used to be a rat.” Charlie Weasley shared with his handler and fellow spy. “I first met her a year ago. At my brother Percy’s wedding. I’ve bumped into her three times since then, twice in London, once in Paris. I keep trying to persuade her fate is trying to tell us something. But she won’t have a bar of it. Frustrating, because I fancy her bloody rotten. I mean look at her in that get up. Shaggability plus, with that bird.”
“So how did you blow your chances with the woman? You normally pull the young ladies quite successfully don’t you, Weasley?” Remus chuckled.
“Oh Gods, I was such a bleeding idiot the night we first met! Completely ballsed up my chance to get my leg over with her.” Charlie mentally kicked himself, remembering how he had been so stupid.
“I had, with a lorry load of bloody effort on my part I can tell you Lupin, eventually convinced Amy to dance with me.” Charlie sipped his beer contemplatively, remembering the night in question. “The saucy little Yankee was working as a waitress at this Muggle wedding reception venue. She was wearing a black mini skirt and tight black t-shirt, you know how sexy Muggle clothing is... It was her tea break. So I had her in my arms on the dance floor. That corker body of hers pressed against mine.”
Lupin and Oz looked at Charlie with interest. Amy Madison was obliviously ‘the one that got away’ for Charlie Weasley.
“She wasn’t exactly gagging for me, but there was definite bloody potential there.” Charlie continued with his tale of loss. “I finally managed to make her laugh with a story about Romanian dragon fledglings. Then I said something so bloody limited! I kick myself about it still. I said something bloody crass in Romanian to her. The woman looked at me like I had just crawled out from under a rock. I stupidly tried to cover my arse, told her I’d just said she was very beautiful. But she speaks Romanian! She knew what I’d really blimmin’ said to her, was that I was looking forward to her sitting on my face before the evening was out. Amy slapped my face and walked off in a huff. Fair enough, I have to say.”
“She speaks Romanian?” Remus looked at Amy with renewed interest.
“Yeah, fluently.” Charlie informed him gloomily. How could he have cocked it up so badly with Amy? It still haunted him.
There was a commotion at the bar. An inebriated young Canadian wizard had preformed a spell that made all the barmaids tops disintegrate.
Amy covered her bare breasts with one arm. She raised her curse casting arm with the other. The spell casting Canuck douche bag had previously slapped Amy’s ass when she had cleared the empty glasses from his table ten minutes ago. This was the last freaking straw.
“Goddess Hectate work thy will. Before thee let the unclean thing crawl!” Amy chanted furiously, her eyes going black. The unfortunate bar patron turned into croaking toad.
“She didn’t use a wand!” Remus cried excitedly. “Did you see that?” He checked with Charlie and Oz. “The girl didn’t use a bloody wand!”
Was that what Lupin had noticed? Charlie couldn’t get over how blimmin’ top notch Amy’s tits were.
Amy was arguing with her pissed off boss. “You can’t fire me, Brian, ‘cause I quit okay? Take your lousy job and shove it.”
The girl was giving notice to her employer? Lupin was very pleased to overhear that. He had just the career opportunity for a ruthless little witch like Amy.
August 25th 2007
Percy Weasley’s 24th’ Birthday Party
Faith and Percy’s Townhouse
Percy glanced over at his wife in approval. There his darling was, making an effort to get on with his mother once more. Faith was a saint. A foul mouthed, wild animal in bed saint, but a saint none the less.
“Yeah, separation anxiety huh?” Faith sipped her champagne. She continued her conversation with Molly Weasley. “I dunno, Molly. Rick seems to be coping okay. The new nanny is a real nice chick. She’s an ex Hogwarts kid called Luna Lovegood. I wanted to put Rick into the Muggle Day Care Center across the road from Slayer Training Headquarters. But Perce wasn’t too hot on the concept.”
“None of my children had a nanny.” Mrs Weasley sniffed disapprovingly. Displeased with Faith’s maternal unnaturalness at wanting to return to the mystical workforce. “Look what happened with your last one. Doesn’t that put you off getting in outside help for heaven’s sake, Faith?”
“Yeah, l agree, it was kinda unfortunate that our last nanny got our address mixed up with the Ambassador of The United States of Wizardry's family that live next door. Thinking that Rick was the future Antichrist.” Faith pacifyingly went along with her mother in law’s reasoning. “But hey, you can see how the satanic Mary Poppins got confused. I mean with Rick’s weird magical birth mark and all.”
Lucifer’s child care professional servant had been mortified to discover that what she had thought was the number 666 on baby Ricks forehead, was in fact an upside down 999. The number of great, great male grand children Percy’s still living great grandfather had had, with the safe arrival of wee Frederick Angel Weasley in April 2007.
“But the real downer was the dog.” Faith was dying for a cigarette. She’d wait till Molly went to the bathroom. “Perce was kinda attached to the mutt. And to find out fido was a minion of Hell in disguise… it came as a total shock to the poor guy.”
“Indeed.” Molly Weasley tutted. A roar of raucous laughter incurred her further displeasure.
Molly didn’t understand why her constantly baffling Muggle daughter in law, had invited ‘those’ boys to attend her third eldest son’s birthday party. Why also was Hermione bothering to spend time with them during her leave? Ron had invited dear Hermione tonight as his partner Mrs Weasley knew.
In the corner nearest the drinks table Captain Crabbe was holding forth. His brainy, peace activist girlfriend, Mandy Brocklehurst attached like a loving limpet to his side.
“So Major Flint had had enough of the infected rat bites putting the men out of action see? So he ordered that we devote the next time we had a break in the shelling, to frying the vermin with our wands. And we’d exterminated them all. And then this corporal from Wales, Evans was his name, dead now poor twat. Evans got into a flap. Couldn’t find his familiar. Turns out Goyle here had incinerated it accidentally.”
Second Lieutenant Goyle chuckled ruefully. He would never be the sharpest knife in the tool box.
“Evans was raving on, saying that the bloody rat had a pink bow with a jeweled heart shaped name tag around her neck, how could Goyle get muddled?” Crabbe wiped his eyes with laughter. “’So Nott said. ‘A pink bow with a jeweled heart name tag eh? I’m sorry corporal, are we to understand you were perhaps a trifle over familiar with your familiar?’”
Hermione smiled bravely. That had been Lieutenant Theodore Nott alright. Nott could always get a black laugh out of anything. God she missed him so much. Every day was living hell. Knowing he was never going to be with her again. Why was she alive and he wasn’t? Why did her body persist in breathing?
Ron came up to Hermione, giving her a glass of white wine. He didn’t feel comfortable with these ex Slytherin arse holes, never would. He knew the dislike was mutual. But Hermione was accepted by them now. Goyle and Crabbe seemed genuinely fond of her, if you could believe it.
At least Hermione still clearly could recognize Malfoy for the cowardly bastard the blond snobbish git was. Ron had noticed the pair had been studiously avoiding one another’s eyes all evening.
“Thanks Ron.” Hermione smiled appreciatively at her secondary school sweetheart. Mum had been so bloody suspicious of Ron visiting Hermione all week since she had arrived back home. The silly woman thought Ron was still burning a torch for Hermione. How ridiculous.
Her parents had not been impressed by Malfoy staying the night in Hermione’s bedroom the previous week. They had heard what had been going on, through the house’s thin walls. Mr and Mrs Granger had been mortified to overhear their daughter making love. Ending up shagging his only child, was not how Mr Granger thought Lieutenant Malfoy should be paying his respects to his fallen comrade's betrothed.
“We know you’re an adult Hermione, but not under our roof dear, please.” Her mother had instructed her. “I always thought you hated that boy at your silly magic school. Boy, he’s a boy Hermione! Playing blimmin’ dress up in his Lieutenant’s uniform! I hate this, that you children are fighting this bloody war. A war that no one in the real world knows anything about. Having to tell everyone you’re working for Greenpeace overseas.” Mrs Granger’s eyes had filled with tears. She was worried sick about her only child.
Upstairs in the nursery, Faith was worried sick also. In Faith's case about her best friend.
“Can I just say what the hell were you thinking, Dawnie? Why are you spending your leave with Snape? I thought you two were freaking history?” Faith scolded, picking her infant’s rattle off the floor and putting it back in his cot.
“Yeah we are.” Dawn said impatiently, spinning Rick’s overhanging baby mobile with an extended forefinger. “There’s nothing happening, we haven’t rekindled the pelvic joy. He’s just putting me up.”
“You could have stayed with me and Perce you realize?” Faith said, hurt that Dawn hadn’t.
“Yeah, I know. But then you would have had to like lied to Buffy.” Dawn explained. “That wouldn’t have been fair on you guys.”
“What is the story with you and big sis at the moment? What’s up with you avoiding her?” Faith led Dawn out onto a balcony so Faith could have an unobtrusive cigarette. “Buffy’s been calling Giles and me every freaking day, asking if we know where you are. What gives Dawn?”
Faith’s townhouse was right on the magical border of Grimmauld Square. Electricity and cell phones worked for Faith in most of her home. Buffy had been so frantic to get in contact with Dawn she had even sent an owl.
“Oh God.” Dawn shivered. “Her boyfriend made a pass at me and Buffy walked in on it.”
“Get outta town.” Faith shuddered in revulsion. She had loathed The Immortal, the one time she had met him. Faith considered him a sleazoid a'hole. She could tell the immortal dude probably had wicked bedroom skills of course. Why else would B. date him? “Yuck, how gruesome girlfriend. No wonder Buffy sounds like she’s fixing to break off a freaking switch for you.”
“You’re telling me, Faith.” Dawn put her hands over her face, trying unsuccessfully to forget the whole sordid experience. Dawn had responded to Buffy’s boyfriend’s advances eagerly. The Immortal with a thousand years of experience under his belt had been a very good kisser. “It was something anyway. Something tragic. God, why can’t I meet someone nice Faith? Someone I can fall in love with? Who’s my age huh? I mean, where’s my freaking Mr Right hiding out?”
August 28th 2007
Magical Animal Transformation Survivors support group meeting
Hired room above Scribbulus Everchanging Inks Store
“Good evening, my name is Krit. I’m a fallen angel. Oh okay, I'm a lesser minion of Hell.” The demon said, crushed at his audience’s sniggers' of disbelief. “I was a rottweiler for four months. I used to like getting taking for walks by master. I miss having a stick thrown for me. I miss my mistress giving me baths dressed in her bikini.”
Amy sat on a hard chair listening attentively. She knew what the demon was going through. Her pal Wormtail sitting beside her, passed her a cashew nut from a paper bag. Wormtail had had it worse than Amy, over a decade as a rat. No wonder the middle aged slacker had problems readjusting to normal life.
It was Amy’s turn. “Hi, my name is Amy. I’m a witch. I was a rat for three years. It’s been five years now since I’ve been a human, but I have um legacies from my whole rodent experience. I find it hard to keep a job. I lash out like a cornered rat when things don’t go my way. I...I have a wheel fixation. I hate cheese, and it comes with nearly every meal when you eat out huh? And worst of all, I think every guy I meet is a potential love rat. I mean that might be because my Dad ran off and left me and my Mom when I was twelve, but I realize the whole being a rat thing, has left a permanent mark on me emotionally.”
After the meeting finished, Amy had a cup of watery coffee with Wormtail. Wormtail was telling her about the car maintenance course he was taking at his local community center.
“Yeah, sounds interesting.” Amy nodded. She glanced up as Arthur Weasley tapped her on the shoulder.
“Good evening, Miss Madison, jolly nice to see you back in London.” Arthur greeted her. Miss Madison was a ripping lass, and what a looker. Would have been in Slytherin though, if she’d attended Hogwarts Arthur suspected.
“Oh thanks Mr. Weasley. Still no breakthrough with your carrot phobia huh?” Amy inquired politely.
“No, my wife will insist on putting the damned vegetable in her stews. Ah well, can’t be helped.” Arthur sighed, resigned to his wife’s occasional obtuseness. “Have you found employment yet Miss Madison?”
“Temping at Terrortours right now. Work’s gonna dry up there in a week. I guess no one is really taking overseas vacations, what with the war and stuff.” Amy shrugged, juggling her coffee and a stale cookie. “I’d dig finding a decent permanent job. I gotta confess.”
“Quite, quite.” Arthur sympathized, his hands fumbling in his pockets. “Well I might have a solution to your problem. An old chum of mine is trying to track you down. Says he has a position that might suit you.” Arthur passed her Remus Lupin’s business card. “I’d give him an owl if I was you. It might be just the career opportunity you’re after Miss Madison.”