Ernie Macmillan was not in the mood for a dinner party, but it seemed he would be attending one this evening just the same.
His owl, Belladonna (Belle for short), had just returned and was pecking insistently at the window of his second story flat. She was usually a good-natured Tawny, but not much different from other creatures of her gender in that she became quite temperamental any time she was kept waiting. He turned the lock and lifted the window. Upon entering, she dropped the letter on the table and hopped around, impatiently waiting for Ernie to give her something in return. He offered her a treat and yelped loudly when she bit down hard on his finger as she took it from him.
He’d bought Belle four months ago after losing the old owl his family had had for years--predictably, he’d died only a few months after everything else in his life had gone to hell, and Ernie had not handled losing his old pet well at all. He’d actually cried, tears of anger and sadness and being at the end of his rope dripping down over the animal’s feathers as he ran his hand over them. He’d wrapped him in his old Hufflepuff blanket and buried him on his family’s property. Then he’d squared his shoulders and gone straight to Eeylops Owl Emporium, even though Hannah had told him he should wait a while.
He’d liked Belle right away. She was plain, but pretty, too, and energetic. He needed some optimism in his life, and so he’d brought her home and set about the task of choosing a suitable name for her. Three days had passed and she’d made a couple of successful trips for him… still no name. Neville had suggested a plant of some kind, arguing that no one ever named their owls after plants and it’s about time someone did. Asphodel was the name Neville liked best, as it was a mundane sort of plant that could be put to extraordinary magical use when utilized correctly. Ernie had liked the meaning but the name had not been right for this new owl. It was too formal, too boring or something. This owl was feisty and charismatic, and she needed a name that suited. Neville had gone on, rattling off plant after plant, sticking to those species whose very ordinary-ness was merely a disguise for the magic they could provide. Finally, he’d landed on Belladonna, and Ernie had known the instant he’d heard it that he had at last found the proper name for her.
But right now, as a drop of blood pooled on his middle finger, he wasn’t feeling so kind toward the old bird. –Don’t be such a bloody menace,†he told her. –No bite!â€
If Belle had had eyebrows, they would surely have risen up into the feathers on the top of her head as she straightened up proudly and fixed her round eyes on a spot somewhere beyond Ernie, seemingly unaffected by his scolding.
Women, Ernie thought as he picked up the letter still lying at her feet and broke open the seal. He scanned the short note, then sighed in defeat. It was from Hannah--a quick response to the one he’d sent earlier saying he’d had a lousy day at work and wasn’t in the mood for socializing tonight. He’d even gone so far as to say that he knew she would understand, hoping to soften her resolve. It was a lie, of course. He’d known deep down that she wouldn’t understand because she’d be too busy seeing right through him, a fact this note only served to confirm:
Ernie Macmillian, don’t you dare cancel on me. You never want to do anything social anymore and you need to get out of that apartment and enjoy some dinner with your friends. You don’t even have to dress up… just come as you are. You can’t weasel your way out of this, so quit trying and get over here. Besides, I miss you. You’ve been avoiding us for weeks.
Hannah
With a tone like that, he ought to be thankful she hadn’t sent a howler. –Avoiding her,†he grumbled to Belle, as if the notion were ridiculous. The bird said nothing, and in the silence, something began to stir his thoughts. He’d begged off lunch the previous week, claiming he was busy at work when truly he had not wanted to feel her worried eyes on him for a solid hour over sandwiches. It had been six months since his father had passed, and Hannah didn’t think he was managing very well. He actually agreed with her, but what was there to be done but get up every day and go to work? He couldn’t help it if he’d not been cheerful lately. This was just going to take some time.
Ernie loved Hannah, though. She was his best friend, and he understood her concern (their roles had been reversed during their sixth year at Hogwarts), but there were times when he simply could not endure the scrutiny of her thoughts. Today felt like one of those times, but he would not be able to resist her now. Perhaps, if she had not said she missed him, had not accused him of intentionally avoiding her… but now, he realized he missed her as well, and he would have to go.
Two hours later, as he entered The Leaky Cauldron with a bottle of wine in hand, his eyes grew wide: Hannah had transformed the building for the evening. It had only been two years since she’d taken over managing the place, and in that time, business had nearly doubled. Tom had probably lacked the vision for it, but it was Hannah’s belief that the old establishment could meet the needs of its clientele more effectively by offering reservations tailored for certain kinds of events. With magic, she believed, the sky was the limit. She’d worked hard studying more advanced charms and transfiguration concepts, and could now create the feel of an open-air restaurant or a private gathering room. Wizarding businesses sometimes rented the place for meetings during the off hours, and she’d even had a few wedding-related events. Ernie was proud of her: some of their classmates would remember her for accidentally multiplying a ferret into a flock of flamingos during the transfiguration practical of their O.W.L.s, but Hannah had grown into a more talented witch than most would have expected.
Tonight, she had outdone herself: she’d charmed the flat she and Neville shared above The Leaky to seem a bit larger than it actually was, and she’d set two round tables beautifully for six people each. She’d done the tables with candles and flowers---arranged so impressively that Ernie knew Neville must have been involved. Hannah was no good with plants.
Most everyone who had been invited seemed to be there already, milling about and chatting with one another. He saw Ron and Hermione Weasley, and Susan Bones, who was there with a man he’d never seen before. He had no idea when Susan had got a boyfriend, and realized again that he had indeed been avoiding his friends for some time. There were two other couples Ernie had met before but couldn’t immediately place… one was a connection of Neville’s from the Hogwarts’ staff, and the other was a friend of Hannah’s who had brought her husband.
He said hello to a couple of people, striving for the bare minimum required by polite society, then saw something that made his stomach twist: a blonde woman he didn’t know, who seemed to be very much alone. He scanned the room again, making calculations in his head while growing redder and angrier by the second. A room full of couples, a single man and a single woman… any fool could figure out what Hannah’s plan had been in making him come tonight.
–You all right?â€
He’d been chatting with Ron, and gone silent at his discovery. –Sorry. Yes, fine.†But he quickly made an excuse and headed straight for the kitchen to have a word with the hostess. He found her at the stove, her wand hovering overhead as a spoon went round and round in a large pot and a bottle of wine poured itself into several glasses. Neville was there, too, leaning against a countertop and wringing his hands.
–The kitchen, eh?†They both looked up at the sound of Ernie’s voice. –Rather an unsuspecting place for such diabolical schemes to be hatched.â€
–That’s a bit over-dramatic,†Hannah said, ladling soup into a serving bowl and eyeing him through the steam. –Get back out there and be social. You might actually enjoy yourself. I won’t be surprised if you thank me later.â€
–Are you
mad?†he demanded, failing to keep his voice level. –You think I’m going to thank you for setting me up in the most obvious fashion imaginable?â€
Ernie noticed Neville shifting uncomfortably and looking at the floor a lot, but couldn’t discern what he might be thinking.
–Oh, Ernie,†Hannah was saying as if he were a child trying to get attention. –It’s just dinner with friends... a simple dinner-party, not a date to a ball. Relax. There’s no pressure or anything.â€
–Of course there’s pressure! I assume she knows you meant us to meet?â€
He stood up a bit taller when she didn’t try to deny it. She wouldn’t look him in the eye at all, but finally mumbled, –Not exactly. I was intentionally vague.â€
–Where did you find her anyway? You probably picked her up in the lunch rush and offered her a discount to come humor your pathetic friend for an evening!â€
Even without the hurt look that was passing over Hannah’s face, Ernie would have regretted his words and his tone immediately after they’d escaped his mouth. He sounded weak and self-indulgent, and he shouldn’t have said it. He would have hexed anyone else for speaking to her like that, and yet here he was, doing it himself. Her silent shock did nothing to assuage his growing guilt, but he was too stubborn to apologize. She had gone too far in setting him up without his permission. However this conversation ended, he would have to go back out into that room with all their friends watching and pretend to be fine with a very public, surprise date.
Because he couldn’t bear the look on Hannah’s face any longer, he turned to Neville. –Surely you have something to say about this. Or are you just going to stand there like a piece of cookware?â€
–Actually, I’m going to go catch up with our friends.†He picked up a glass of wine and prepared to leave. –But first, I’ll say two things.†He moved behind his wife, put a hand on her hip, and spoke into her ear. –I believe I told you he would react this way.†He made a circular gesture between Hannah and Ernie to emphasize his point.
She shot him a menacing look as he moved toward the door, and Ernie felt a tangible relief: Neville had tried to talk her out of it. He wasn’t crazy, after all. This had been a bad idea from the start. –You were going to say two things,†Ernie called after him.
Neville turned back and gave him a tired look. –Give her a break, mate. She cares about you… she’s just trying to help.â€
Then they were alone in the kitchen, where Ernie was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm and the slightest bit guilty. –Hannah,†he started, though he had no idea what he was going to say.
–Don’t bother.†She reclaimed her wand, magicked the soup in some fashion he couldn’t possibly understand, and levitated the tray of wine glasses, now perfectly portioned, to move ahead of her into the parlor. –You’d best not utter another word to me in your current mood, you selfish twit. You’ll be apologizing to me for years if you do.†She looked as if she intended to leave without another word, but then she stopped very close to him and met his nervous gaze. They held each other's eyes for a moment and her expression softened. –I know you’ve been through a lot--I know it better than anyone.â€
He dropped his eyes. He didn’t want to talk about it, not even with Hannah.
–But I won’t just sit around and do nothing while you crawl into a hole and try to rot.†She touched his arm, forcing him to look at her again. –I won’t do it, Ernie.â€
An unwelcome tightness was stretching across the back of his throat; he couldn’t have answered her if he’d wanted to, which he didn’t. She was talking about the very things he spent his entire day every day trying not to think about... his dad’s death six months ago, and the girl he’d lost three weeks later. Looking at Hannah now, pretty even with the sheen of sweat from cooking visible at her hairline, he wondered why he couldn’t have just fallen in love with her. Life would have been so much simpler in his estimation.
–I have guests,†she said. –If you can’t bear to stay, you can take the back stairs down and go out that way. I’ll make some excuse.â€
He would have done it, too. He could almost hear the stairs calling to him… feel his body leaning in that direction… But Hannah was right: he’d been a selfish bastard, and he should stay. Besides, everyone had seen him. There would be no question about what had happened to him or why he’d left, and it would send a horrible message to the girl, whoever she was. He had no interest in her, but that didn’t give him the right to treat her badly.
Sighing resolutely, he stepped around his friend and pushed open the door to the parlor. –After you,†he said with all the sincerity he could gather on short notice. She grinned and followed the tray of wine through the door with Ernie puttering along behind her.
He managed to stay for a couple of hours. He chatted when necessary, talking about work and Quidditch and the weather--the normal fodder for polite conversation. There was a break after dinner during which Hannah showed off her improvements to the flat, and other guests gathered in small groups to talk. Seeing an opportunity to collect his thoughts and escape the crowd for a moment, Ernie ventured out onto the balcony. It was not a real one, but Hannah had done some incredible spell work on this small area in the corner of the parlor: though he knew it was only an illusion, Ernie felt as though he were standing out of doors, feeling the night air on his face and seeing a lovely view of the rooftops across Charing Cross Road.
–This isn’t real, is it?†came a soft voice from behind him.
It was her--the girl, his would-be date, and there was wonder in her voice as she took in the view.
–No balcony is visible from below… is it a charm?â€
–It
is a charm,†he told her. They’d been introduced earlier in spite of his efforts to avoid the obvious, and already he’d forgotten her name. He really was a selfish twit sometimes. Was it Lydia? Louise?
Her face changed briefly--nerves, if Ernie were to make a guess--then she put on a casual smile and said, –You didn’t know I was going to be here, did you?â€
Ernie put his hands in his pockets and watched her carefully. She was an attractive woman, for sure. She had blonde hair, a bit darker than Hannah’s, and she wore it straight… no clips, no fringe… simple. Her brown eyes were on him, patient and soft. She still had that easy smile on her face, but Ernie wasn’t sure he believed it. Something told him she was more nervous than she was letting on.
–I didn’t,†he admitted, noting from the change in her expression that she had suspected as much.
She crossed her arms in front of her. –This is so embarrassing. I’m sorry, I assumed you knew.â€
–Do you mean that
you knew?â€
He could almost see her going back over her words, worried that she’d got Hannah in trouble. No need: Hannah had got her own self in trouble. –I knew she really wanted me to come tonight, and I knew she wanted us to meet sometime. I suppose I wasn’t surprised to see you here alone.â€
She said it like she knew who he was, and he stumbled in his thoughts. He wanted to rage about being made the fool who was duped into a blind date, but his whole mind was immediately consumed with the idea that he
did know this woman from somewhere. Her face was familiar, and her voice, but not enough so that he’d recognized her. They couldn’t have been close friends, and he didn’t think she’d ever worked with him at the Prophet, so who was she? And why did she seem to know him?
–This is so awkward--I’m sorry,†she gushed, glancing back into the room where guests were moving back to the tables. –I think dessert is about to be served.†She gave him a sheepish look, probably grateful for a natural end to the conversation.
When her expression gave way to doubt and uncertainty, she looked much more familiar to Ernie. Yes, he definitely knew her from somewhere. Lucy? LeeAnn?
–You don’t remember me, do you?â€
He felt his face growing hot under the pressure of her question and knew he was blushing. He squinted his eyes and tilted his head, trying to figure it out.
–Don’t hurt yourself,†she said, laughing. –I wouldn’t expect you to remember, and honestly, the fact that you don’t is a relief.†More tinkling laughter.
He couldn’t think of a thing to say as she started to walk away, and he had to suppress an unreasonable desire to call her back, find out her name, talk some more.
Then she turned and spoke one last time. –Don’t be mad at Hannah. I’ve had kind of a lousy week--she was only trying to cheer me up, you know?â€
–S’all right,†he finally managed, cursing his inability to say something sensible.
–Good night, Ernie Macmillan,†she said with a smile.
He watched her walk away--too distracted to realize his own whispered –good night†had come out far too late to have been heard.
Summary: Ernie Macmillan has had a difficult year, suffering three losses in two months’ time. Life is dreary, and each day seems far too much like the one before and the one to follow.
But on any regular day, extraordinary things can happen, can change the course of a journey… especially when an obligatory dinner party, a meddling best friend, and a familiar face from the past come together at just the right time.
This is WeasleyMom of Hufflepuff, writing for the Great Hall Cotillion Challenge.
Thanks to Natalie/hestiajones for beta reading this in a quick turnaround.