I close up the mobile phone from talking with Marley and lean back, finally letting loose the sigh that was hanging there the whole time I was talking to her, but that I didn't want her to hear. I toss the phone into the couch cushions and let my head fall back onto the top of the overstuffed chair.

I close my eyes, and then open them, and then close them again. Doesn't make any difference, seeing as it's pitch black in the flat. And it's silent. Ergh. Friday night. Marley's got band rehearsal in a bit. Harry and Casey are off to some play or other. Not sure where Kevin is, to be honest, but I reckon it's probably got something to do with Okashi - or maybe just another friend. In any case, I've gotta find myself something to do before I go mad.

I think about heading down to Knockturn for another round of slime-hunting, even if it's been a while. But I'm not really in the mood right now. Even obsessive creep-hunters need a break now and then, though with any luck, I'll get a nice, long Marley break sometime over the weekend, on top of whatever trouble I can get into tonight. Merlin. There's not even any Quidditch on the wireless.

Hold on. Speaking of trouble... My eyes snap open, and I think a bit, figuring why the hell not find out? ( FridayNight'sAlright )

Oh yeah! Special draft edition of the Quidditch Weekly. Been waiting to get my hands on this baby for over three months now...

As I walk down the hallway to the living room, I look down at the magazine in my hands and sneer at Quelmore Twigg, the cheeky bloke grinning up at me, what reckons he's gonna be the number one draft choice - meaning he'd go to the Cannons. Since they're the team with the most losses last season (well yeah okay, most every season, I'll admit), they get first choice. But they need a Beater - uh, well, they need a new Beater the worst - and in my opinion, the wizard for the job is Adam Santori. With any luck, this magazine's gonna tell me just what their strategy's gonna be for draft day next weekend - and that they're ditching this Twigg prat.

Still making faces at the cover, I swing 'round the end of the couch and go to flop down onto it longways to read. But there's a voice from somewhere…who-? My eyes take a moment to focus across the room, but then I see Kevin draped all over the big old armchair by the fire, talking on the... telephone. (Yeah, Marley's finally got me saying it right.)

"Sorry!" I mouth to him and start backing up a few steps to head for my room again. It looks like someone did three or four "Reductos!" in there and then left, laughing like they’re mental, but I reckon if I excavate for five or ten minutes, I could find the bed. Have to find it later anyway.( MakingThingsRight )

Worse than waitin' on a ruddy witch, I tell ya.


I look down at my watch and decide I'll give him one more minute. But that's all!


Exactly one minute later, I shove open the door to the wizard's loo in the Leaky Cauldron.


"Williamson!" I shout inside, knowing full well there's no one else in there since I've been outside half of forever. "You going back on patrol today, or you letting all the bad sorts do their worst while you fix your pretty hair?" I shake my head in disgust and let the door close behind me. ( MeetingMs.Poliakoff )

It’s been quite the struggle, but I reckon we’ve finally got this adventure on the road, or actually, more like on its path through the sky, maybe. I didn’t want to fly the ruddy thing first for hours before I went to pick up Marley, just in time to fly the ruddy thing for another however many hours it ends up taking us to get to Ballycastle, up in northern Ireland. So I Apparated to Hogsmeade after work last night and, fetching the Anglia from the forest, flew it down to the outskirts of London, then (scarily) drove it on the regular road with a late-night Muggle driver or two to park it just outside our flat last night. Yeah, I was a bit tired by the time I got to bed, but one thing did make me feel especially good: finally got to use that parking slot in the car park that we pay for in the apartment rent, for once.( QuidditchwithMarley )

Hmmm. Pitch black at the flat, far as I can tell. No lights on inside, no lights on out here on the landing… Must be Harry and Kevin gave up and went to bed on me. Woulda been right nice of ‘em to leave me a light on somewhere though. Ah well, good news is that I can use my wand instead of the ruddy key since no one else can see either, and anything that can help when I’m this tired from playing all weekend - and have to get up at the butt crack of dawn to face the likes of the Git in the morning…


I wave my wand to unlock the door, then reach for the handle to let myself in. “What the-“ I mutter, startled in the blackness by something fluttering up under my chin, but after a minute of swinging at the bloody thing, the light of its wings catch in a tiny spot of light from somewhere and I see it’s just a moth. Sighing, I step inside and push the door closed behind me, trying to be careful not to make loads of noise. But that hardly ever works. I whisper “Lumos!” to use just the light of my wand, and head for the kitchen to get a glass of water.( LateDateMates )

I look at the shop clerk like she's daft. Because I reckon she is.

"I said 'Harry', not 'Harold'!" I tell her. "And reckon you could make it something besides neon pink icing? Dark red, maybe?"
( Harry's birthday )

While it wasn't exactly the toughest Missing Persons case we've ever had to help get information for, it was hardly the easiest either, this thing with Sen. Three times the MLES Missing Persons people came up with exactly nothing for her, and three times Harry and I had to go see what other little tidbit we might toss 'em that could possibly be of any help. Oh yeah. Then there was the begging, which was always the fun 'before- part' to them starting the entire case study over again.

( Read more... )

It's Sunday evening when I call to ask her to dinner on her birthday. Isn't like I could work out a whole lot else to do that day, seeing as I have to work till five in the evening or so, and wouldn't even be able to go pick up Marley until after I finish. Not that I know for sure, mind, but I reckon she's got work that day too. Besides, if plans go right for the rest of what I'm trying to work out, we'll be making a bigger sorta date of things on a sorta special little short trip to Paris in a few weeks. So, I'm hoping that on Thursday we can at least go to dinner, and that I can give her her presents so that she gets to know she's going to Paris too, and then...Well, we'll just have to see what happens after that, but there are other gifts I know I'd like to give her, if she's interested, and they have nothing to do with anything I can just hand over.

So, since Pig seems a bit tired and snuffly tonight, I drag out my seltefalone and set it on the table and just look at it for a few minutes. There is no love lost between my seltefalone and me. Never has been. We both know this. The thing's got a penchant for calling at random by far the world's crankiest and most obnoxious people whenever I try calling someone I know - and I'm pretty damned sure it reckons that's pretty funny. In fact, I'm sure that if a tefalone could laugh, it'd be guffawing its guts out knowing that I can take down Dark wizards and werewolves, but get so intimidated about a sodding little piece of non-magical nuts and bolts and plastic and metal. ( Tefalones )

The next day I tell Harry what's up and head off for the Prophet office after work. My stomach growls at me along the way, but no surprise there - it reckons it must be almost time for dinner.

I step inside the building and wait in the lobby for Ginny to come out.

I see her walking by the front desk, eyes narrowed on someone in the crowd in front of her, but then she sees me and she starts to grin. A few seconds later she's finally shoved her way through everyone the best she can and she throws her arms around my hips and hugs me tight.

"You mentioned getting some food, right?" ( DinnerandAdvice )

Ten days. Ten days, eight of them work days. Ten days, and I haven't even a ruddy clue what to get Marley for her birthday. And it's gotta be good - great, even.

There's only one thing to do, no doubts about it.

It's time to owl Ginny. ( TenShortDays )