It was, outwardly a sunny day – not a cloud to be seen. The air was crystalline. The smell of exhaust fumes was only a minor irritation which, for London, was unusual. He could feel the heat of the pavement through the soles of his shoes and through the shoulders of the Muggle suit he was wearing.

He was getting a few odd looks. Perhaps there is something wrong with my clothing? With my hair? Not too many men are wearing hats. None of them has one as splendid as mine—could it be envy? He paced back across the same expanse of pavement he’d just covered. He’d forgotten to eat lunch before he left Diagon Alley, and he wasn’t entirely sure if the Muggle money in his pocket was enough for lunch. He couldn’t get over that it was just paper. Just colorful, crisp, paper.

“Those goblins are going to want you to be able to deal with Muggles directly. Whatever it takes. You’d better show them that you can do that, son.� His uncle had provided the hat, and the Muggle money as well. The whole family had a stake in this. Until he was settled they had to support him, worry about him, shake the bushes for a situation for him. Until he was settled there would be no grandchildren, no vacations, however modest, no sense of feeling that they were done raising him and could go on to whatever was next in their lives.

They’d never get him settled.

He knew it. They never said it in front of him, but he overheard things. How did a pureblood wizard get his interest in Muggles? It isn’t quite…nice. Why did he have to score higher in his Muggle study NEWT than any other? It’s embarrassing, that’s what it is. Who is going to give him a job, with proclivities like that? You never know what mischief a Muggle-lover might get up to.

“Well, at least he has nice taste in girls,� he’d heard his mother say consolingly to his father just that morning while she was stirring his tea with her wand to sweeten it. “That little Prewett girl is just lovely.�

“Doesn’t have a feather to fly with, though.� His father had said ruefully. “And he’s not the only one who fancies her.� He was unfolding the Daily Prophet, and the sound of the paper rattling as he did so had carried beyond the half open kitchen door where Arthur had stopped. A strip of flesh down the back of his neck had gone, impossibly, cold and hot at the same time.

He was thinking about her now – his Molly. She was his Molly. Or was it, she had been his Molly, but she wasn’t any more? Kisses and moonlit walks on the Hogwarts grounds were all very nice, but she was a young woman with her whole life in front of her, and what did he have to offer her, really? He had no job, no prospects. He’d been talking to everyone he knew, filling out applications, going on the rare interview. Most of those, he thought, were out of courtesy to his father, who’d been injured in the war, or by family friends who hoped they’d be able to help him settle. None of them were having much luck. Well, the economy had been better. No one was expanding or taking on new help – you were lucky if they were even filling positions left vacant by the unexplained disappearances and outright murders Everyone was worried about--you couldn’t say his name.

He looked up. There wouldn’t be a dark mark over Muggle London in Midday. Not yet, anyway. He half wished he could have been an Auror, although law enforcement was not really his cup of tea. He hadn’t had the grades for it. Hadn’t had the grades for Healer, either, or a dozen other fields that might have gotten him a nice, steady job, something with a bit of a future.

“A ring, a few rooms of furniture, a little bolt hole somewhere – that’s all a young girl needs, really, when she’s in love.� His mother had smiled up at him, her face beaming between the top edge of her pink flowered apron and the brim of her summer straw witch’s hat, the one she wore in the house. She was a bit old-fashioned, his mum. “She’s a lovely girl, Arthur. And I can help you with the ring.�

He had looked at her in surprise. She seemed so very glowingly happy, and rings were expensive.

“I’ve spoken to your father, and it’s alright with him, it really is. He only got me the diamond because his family were being pigs about the lovely lovely pearl ring he’d given me, saying we weren’t really engaged, just because it wasn’t a diamond, as if the ring were more important than knowing what we wanted! We always considered that pearl my REAL engagement ring. Well, those people are all gone now and good riddance to them. The diamond is pretty, though, it always was. And we think you should have it for your Molly!�

She was breathless with excitement and looked up at him expectantly. She wanted so badly to help him, entirely on his side about Molly Prewett. He was stunned at her offer. “Mum,� he’d started, “it’s the only diamond you own!�

She’d waved her hand airily, and he noticed she’d already replaced the ring with the older, pearl one he knew she had usually reserved for occasions of state—weddings, baby showers, taking him to platform nine and three quarters the first time, and picking him up from the train when he finished at Hogwarts. He wished he could be as excited. He wished…

That had been two days ago, before the first interview at Gringotts, which had come out of the blue and shocked them all. The salary was probably stingy for what it was he was going to be doing, whatever that was, exactly. It was more money than he had expected to be making, though. Enough, maybe, that he and Molly could set a date, and with his mother’s ring on her finger and a date set, maybe a certain individual would back off and leave her alone.

“I pay him no mind, Arthur, none at all.� She had said the last time he’d mentioned it to her. It had been Sunday tea at her parents’ house, and they had been going on and on about the attention she’d gotten from Lucius Malfoy during a chance meeting at Florian Fortescue’s.

Chance, my foot, he’d thought grimly. Lying in wait for her, more like. And I don’t like him at all. There’s that AIR about him, never mind the rumors. Alastor Moody, his dad’s friend, was an Auror, and he had a way of snorting when a name was mentioned that told you with absolute clarity who to avoid and who to trust, without his ever exactly breaking confidence with whatever he was supposed to be keeping quiet. That-man-wanted Molly, his Molly, the one Apollyon Pringle had beaten him black and blue over. He still had the welts, 18 months later. He wondered about Pringle, sometimes…but not as much as he worried about his rival.

Well, not his rival in Molly’s own eyes –or was he? Was he gaining ground as Arthur’s job search went on and on, no end in sight? Mr. Prewett thought he wasn’t good enough for Molly to begin with. Well, if he were Mr. Prewett…

No, not really, he would not really think that a man with no particular social connections or vault of gold was necessarily bad. If he had a daughter, he would just want her to be happy. He’d want some nice fellow, one who cared more about her than he cared about himself--the sort who would notice when she’d been crying all day, not believe her when she said it was just dust from cleaning.

He hadn’t believed Molly. He’d gone round to see her yesterday, to get a little courage for the interview. Her eyes had been bloodshot.

“Oh, Arthur, no, of course I haven’t been crying!� She’d hidden her face behind that magnificent mane of red hair, the hair he was always longing to bury his face in. He’d reached in behind her hanging curtain and found her chin, brought it up, gently, so that she had to look at him.

“Mollywobbles…?�

A single tear had flowed over the edge of her bottom eyelid. “Oh, Arthur! I’m so tired of waiting, of sitting on the edge of the sofa cushion waiting for the once or twice a week I can seen you, when for years you were there, everyday, every moment, I can’t bear the separation!�

He had wanted to hold her head against his shoulder, but they were right outside the kitchen window, with Molly’s back to the house, so that while her mother could see them from the kitchen, she couldn’t hear what Molly was whispering to him, and didn’t know she was crying. If he held her close, in a moment Mrs. Prewitt would be out in the garden with them, proffering a plate of little cakes. This was her standard tactic, and while they were lovely little cakes, Arthur was tired of them.

He was tired of them and of interference, of having to hold his Molly an arm’s length away from him, when for years he’d held her first around the waist, then in the crook of his arm, for half the hours of the day, and as many hours of the night as they were able to manage. Oh, they hadn’t been foolish. No, but how many mornings had found them half slumped over on one of the common room couches, her head on his shoulder, his arms around her? He knew exactly the spot her her spit landed when she drooled in her sleep--every set of robes he had from school had a spot there that he might have been able to wash out, if he had ever tried.

They’d interviewed him again this morning.

“You would have to learn a great deal about the Muggle economy.� The goblin interviewing him was looking at him closely. “You have to understand what they are doing, so that we can make the proper investments.�

“I didn’t know wizard money was invested in Muggle concerns.� He’d said. The look on the creature’s face was not pleasant. “I’d have thought that violated some law.�

The inscrutable little face took on a cunning smile. “Not invested, necessarily, Mr. Weasley. We own numerous assets which Muggles believe to be – Muggle assets, of course. It is in the best interests of the Wizarding community that these-assets-do well.�

“I see. And what, exactly, does the job entail?�

“You will be gathering information on muggle business interests. You will be using newspapers, their broadcast services, and personal observation. You would be what I believe they call entry-level, but there is a great deal of room for advancement.�

“I see, so it would be reading Muggle newspapers, listening to their radio programs

“And their television, Mr. Weasley. One would be installed in your home, so that you could monitor the evening news they broadcast.�

He quelled a jump of excitement at the thought of having Muggle ekletricity right in his own home.

“That would be at Grigott’s expense. As would a complete Muggle wardrobe, Mr. Weasley, for you and your wife. There are times when our people must appear in public at various gatherings. You are married, are you not, Mr. Weasley?

“My young lady and I have an understanding, sir. We’re just waiting for me to have a proper job.� He hoped they had an understanding. He didn’t see what else he could say.

Gribslash looked up over the little half-moon spectacles. “We would need you to be married, Mr. Wesley. At times she would need to accompany you.�

So Molly would be some sort of unpaid assistant.

“And how, exactly, am I gathering the information?

“Well, for example, these Muggles do a great deal of shopping over the phone. One of your tasks would be to call round and ask a few simple questions, see if you could get an order for a product, but really, the answers are what we want. We don’t actually sell anything.�

“But you take their orders?�

“They have these bits of plastic they use to move their assets about with. You would take the order, but the assets would not actually be moved.�

“But they would be expecting something they never got.�

“It does them no harm. Their own kind frequently defraud them with these offers. We merely obtain information.�

It would do him no good to antagonize the goblin, and he put what he hoped was an interested and satisfied expression on his face.

“And this would help you maximize Gringott’s profits?�

“And bring stability to the Wizarding economy, Mr. Weasley. The Wizarding Community needs all the stability it can get right now, after all.�

“I see, well, yes, of course, what with…�

“Precisely, Mr. Weasley. We will be making our final decision this afternoon. If you would care to return around four, I believe it is highly likely we might have some good news for you.� Gribslash attempted what he must have thought of as a warm smile.





As he paced up and down in the park going over the interview in his mind That statement did not seem terrifically goblin-like to Arthur. It must be difficult to get anyone to do this job properly. Most wouldn’t want to spend that much time in close contact with Muggles. It’s a job for the desperate, and they are desperate to fill it. What does that say about the Wizard who takes it? That he’s a disgrace to the name of Wizard, most likely.

It was hot. He was lightheaded from the heat, his hunger, and the pressure to make a decision. On the one hand was Molly, who was tired of waiting for him. On the other was a working life of lying to Muggles to start with, and who knew what, thereafter--Molly, who was everything in the world to him, against his sense of fairness, which was part of what he was himself. Molly….

I wonder why she wasn’t at home when I flooed her from the Leaky Cauldron? Hex him if he’s gone and taken her out to lunch, when I’m here hoping finally to get us settled, Hex him!

Molly, who I’ve loved since I was eleven and saw her in her school robes on the Hogwarts Express. This job, where they expect her to accompany me on their research. Molly, whose family’s no better off than mine, and was never able to buy the pretty things the other girls brought back from Hogsmeade weekends or holidays on the Continent. This job, which could provide both of us with nice new clothes and places to wear them. Molly, whose father was hoping for a good, stable situation for her. This job, which would …

And there was that—creature—who wanted to steal her from him.

You don’t own her, Arthur, she’s her own person. She wouldn’t want you thinking of her as yours to steal >said one voice in his head. The voice from his heart was saying But it’s alright, because you are hers, forever and forever, and if you loose her, there will never be another, because you will still be hers. It was a silly voice, of course. People loved and lost and got over it all the time. Just look at the people he knew.

It was no comfort that the only person he could think of at that moment who had probably loved and lost was Alastor Moody, confirmed bachelor.

He turned again to pace in front of the bench. It was hardly the loveliest scene in the park. It was just that he had been sitting on that bench with Molly when he had finally had the courage to say “Maybe someday.� They had been fourteen. He had said “Maybe?" and she had said “Certainly, Arthur,� shyly, looking at the ground, hidden behind that hair, and then looked up, and smiled, and given him the first real, toe-curling kiss of his life. He had a fierce fondness for that bench.

He turned quickly. He wasn’t going back to talk to them until he spoke to her, he’d go to her home, he’d find out where she was, he’d…

There was a pop in the large bush behind him, and he turned to find her there, breathless.

“Oh, Arthur, it’s such a good thing I found you! I knew you’d be here. How is it going?�

He looked down into her breathless face and summoned every bit of the lion he had in himself. “I don’t think, Molly, that it is exactly what I’m looking for. I…�

“Oh thank goodness, Arthur, I was having all I could do not telling you to let the—well, let them go hang themselves. You’d never be happy there. I’ve been worried sick that you’d take it! I’ve been visiting round this morning, and Alastor Moody had the answer – there’s a job in the Ministry, something with Muggle things, the director has disappeared and everyone’s been kicked up a step and that leaves room for someone at the bottom, and the job is yours if you want it, someone owes him a favor, well, I suspect any number of people do but this particular person is in charge of filling the job and I told him you’re taking it!� The last words were said defiantly, and a bit as if she were afraid, just a tiny bit afraid, of his reaction.

“A job, in the Ministry? Of course, I’d love that, but Molly, I couldn’t get us a house, we’d have to live in a few rooms…� Should he take it? It might be years before there was enough money for a proper family home, and they both wanted a family.

“No, we won’t. As it happens, what my parents have been putting aside all these years for the wedding is enough to put down on a house, and the Ministry is steady, we can borrow the rest. I found us a place—well, it’s a bit old, and a bit gone to seed, but we can fix it up, and I can have a few chickens, a garden, that will help with the finances.�

“Then how will we pay for the wedding?� he asked, certain she would have an answer.

“Dumbledore isn’t going to charge us anything to marry us, dear. He’s free this afternoon, in fact.�

“But I haven’t even asked you properly, yet!� He was a bit astounded.

She smiled widely at him. “It’s “Someday,� dear, and I told you “Certainly� a long time ago.�