Rita Skeeter wrapped up a report about a recent trial held at the Ministry of Magic. Benjy rolled his eyes and muttered to another staff writer that he felt he needed some fresh air. He snatched his grey coat and knitted scarf, a red one, off the hook and stepped out into Diagon Alley. There weren’t many shoppers mulling around on this early summer morning, and doubted that they’d noticed that he’d left the meeting. In his mind, it was a waste of a Saturday.
He was no fool. Benjy knew he was quickly fading as old news. His hair had turned grey and his joints had more pain these days. He was a talented writer, there was no denying it, yet he’d downright refused to stoop to their level. Mr. Cuffe, the editor, had offered him the top assignments, and usually Benjy accepted without hesitation. He had avoided these grueling trials like the plague, though, and had declined the Longbottoms’ proceedings.
Rita Skeeter had gained that story simply because he’d handed it to her. She’d make a theatrical show, a dramatic mess of things.
He stepped into the Leaky Cauldron and nodded to Tom, the stooped barman. Benjy snatched an edition of yesterday’s Daily Prophet off one of the dirty tables and asked Tom for a light breakfast. She was already sitting there reading through a roll of parchment. Two other sealed scrolls lay on the table by a few copies ofTransfiguration Today. She wore her hair in the same old bun and didn’t look up when he sat across from her.
He’d ask her today.
–Good morning,†she said.
–Which idiot claimed this to be a good morning?†He thanked Tom for his eggs and toast and watched the hunchback edge away. He sipped his coffee and rolled his eyes when a small smile touched her lips. –I should have stayed in bed. I quit.â€
–Benjy,†said Minerva, glancing at him sternly. –You won’t quit on them. No, you’d never give them the satisfaction.â€
Benjy shrugged and flipped through the paper. He saw the inky words, but they carried no meaning and didn’t hold his interest. She was right, of course, but he wasn’t going to admit that either. He enjoyed his smoke and reflected on things. –Cuffe has no idea, and I’m not telling him.â€
–Telling him what?†She raised her eyebrows and sipped her water.
–She’s no talent, this Rita,†he said, taking a bite of eggs and waving his fork. –She’s got a pretty face, yeah, and nice legs, but she’s in it for the wrong reasons. I’d bet anything he’s sleeping with her.â€
Minerva sealed her parchment and dropped the friendly tone. –Benjamin.â€
–What?†He checked her grim expression and rephrased the rumour. He shrugged. –She’s a girl. I’m out and she’s in? Is that fair?â€
Benjy had given his life to this paper for over half a century. He enjoyed writing, for it gave him a sense of fulfilment, but it counted less and less as the years passed. The Daily Prophet existed to sale itself. Hadn’t Mr. Cuffe said that a hundred times? It had survived through editors, and as things went, Mr. Cuffe was still considered fairly new to the business. Benjy never wrote the expected line because straying away from it had forced him to really deliver the news from a different angle.
–Did you teach Barnabus Cuffe?†He polished off his breakfast and wiped his hands on a napkin.
–Yes.†Minerva picked up the publication.
–And?†Benjy refused to settle for a one word answer. He thanked Tom for the refill and pressed her. –I could have been editor, you know.â€
–Yes,†she said again, not giving him much to go on. Benjy just sat there. –When you were first offered that position, you came to me. I said yes - everyone said yes. Why didn’t you take it?â€
He cupped the mug in his hands and refilled his pipe. –Didn’t want it, I suppose.â€
He didn’t meet her eyes and wished he hadn’t wolfed down his breakfast so quickly. He felt empty. They’d been friends ever since their schooldays, and Benjy, a decisive man, always waited for her say. He didn’t always listen to it, it was true, but he followed through with it like an expected step. Minerva usually gave him a written reply, for she was busy at the school, but he’d always considered it.
–Waiting,†he added, speaking to himself.
–For what?†She demanded. She sighed when he looked up at her and took the paper from him. She set it aside. –I don’t read this.â€
–You read my stuff,†he said conversationally, feeling a bit more confident.
–You need something to talk about,†she said, shaking her head when he laughed. She reached over and squeezed his hand. –You’re not dead yet, Benjy. You submit to no fool.â€
He stared at her, surprised that she’d remembered him saying that. Tom Riddle had approached him once in school and threatened him. Benjy didn’t hold his tongue, and he’d shared a few choice words with the prefect. He’d earned a detention for his cheeky response, but it had been well worth it.
–You can’t be marking essays,†he said, pointing a gnarled hand at the parchment rolls. They’d kept this friendship for the longest time, and recently, he’d found his thoughts wondering whenever they were alone together.
–No,†she said, waving her wands over the paperwork. They disappeared into thin air. She tucked a loose strand behind her ear. –No, that’s just letter from a friend, Mr. Urquart.â€
–Oh.â€
Benjy didn’t know what to say to that, so he settled for silence. His face fell. He looked over his shoulder, for this whole time, he’d felt as though someone was watching him. Sure enough, an elderly man sat at the bar chatting with Tom. He was heavier than Benjy remembered him, but it had been months since the reporter had set foot inside the Ministry of Magic. Mr. Urquart had left the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and handed over the reins to Amelia Bones. Benjy raised his mug, nodded to the man in welcome, and watched him approach their table.
Minerva took the elderly man’s hand. Benjy pulled a straight face and cleared his throat.
–Benjamin,†she said softly, her voice sounding strangely distant and slightly hesitant. –I’m getting married.â€
Benjy blinked. He couldn’t help it. He laughed.
Mr. Urquart surveyed him over his spectacles. He opened his mouth, but Minerva merely nodded, taking the reaction well.
–Oh my God,†said Benjy. He knew that piercing look well. It sobered him well. –You’re serious?â€
Benjy got to his feet, shook the man’s hand and offered his congratulations in a dead tone. He felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach. At the same time, he didn’t quite understand why he felt this way. He reached in his pocket and placed a few Galleons on the table. A chair scraped in the stone floor, but he paid no attention to it. The doors opened after he left. He stared straight ahead and fingered his lighter, cursing when its flame wouldn’t ignite.
–Your fiancé’s waiting.†He kept walking.
–You’ve got some nerve,†she said, matching his step. –I’ve always been there for you. Your women, your panics, your nonsense! You laughed at me. What do you think of me?â€
Benjy spun around to face her and glared at two passing wizards, daring them to comment. –You’re not marrying that man.â€
–I am.†She didn’t falter.
–How many times has that fool asked you?†He tossed the lighter in a bin and stood against a wall. –Five? Six?â€
–Eight.â€
–And every time you’ve denied him,†said Benjy, raising an eyebrow. –He’s the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, yeah? You’d think he’d get the message. I’d watch that, if I were you.â€
–I love him.†Minerva said it again, more confident. –I- I love him and he loves me.â€
–How romantic.†Benjy stuffed his pipe into his coat and rubbed his hands together. –You’ve lost your damn mind. You know that?â€
The first time he’d asked, she’d just celebrated her twenty-seventh birthday, and the proposal had completely thrown her. She had not bothered to tell Benjy right away, but it had come out night when they’d shared a drink at the Three Broomsticks. He’d thought he’d misheard her on that awkward occasion, too, but no, a man nearing his fiftieth birthday had asked for her hand. He’d taken her rejection over and over again, and yet, he had still waited with the same question.
Benjy expected her to yell at him, tell him off. She didn’t.
–People learn to love each other,†she said simply.
Benjy took her hand and pressed his lips to hers. Surprised, she swung her hand and struck him. Benjy staggered back and slid on the pavement. He steadied himself and looked up at the cloudy sky. He inhaled sharply through his nose and blinked, controlling his temper through the pain.
–Yeah, it’s broken,†he said, cupping his injury. –I deserved that.â€
Minerva stepped back and covered her mouth. –I’m sorry.â€
–You hit me!†He staggered, unbalanced, and declined her offer to fix her mistake. He was shocked, but he’d always admired her for taking care of herself. –No, I’m fine.â€
–Don’t be ridiculous. Stand still.†She forced his hand away from his face and waved her wand in one fluid movement. Benjy felt a warm sensation wash over him. She took out a handkerchief and dabbed his face. –I didn’t mean to do it.â€
–No, actually, I’m glad you did,†he said, offering her a sincere apology. He touched his mended nose gingerly and let her wipe up the blood. –I used to worry about you when you first moved to London.â€
Minerva didn’t have many friends when she left school. Benjy had gone off to fight in the war, a world away from the wizards, but he thought of her often. Even as a student, she’d acted really strict when it came to enforcing the rules.
–It never would have worked, you and me,†he said fairly. He spotted Mr. Urquart striding out of the pub and wiped the blood off the bridge of his nose. –You’d tire of me talking to myself, for one thing, and you’d be begging me for an annulment in no time.â€
–An annulment?†She found her voice when her fiancé stood by her.
Benjy reached in his pocket and handed her a black jewellery box. She looked at him, speechless, but Benjy merely kissed her softly on the forehead and muttered about checking out an article in the Sunday Prophet. He took out his wand and tapped the brick wall. As he stepped back into Diagon Alley, a place waking up with drowsy shoppers, he glimpsed the old man kissing his friend’s hand. London faded behind him as the bricks locked the hidden passageway.
It took him all of a day to catch her meaning. She’d asked for him yesterday morning. Benjy had finished his mug of coffee and tossed the paper aside before it dawned on him. He had pulled on his finest set of dress robes. Half past nine on Sunday morning, Benjy found himself standing outside Madam Bones’s office holding a bouquet of cheap flowers. A woman with short, bristled hair stood with the couple.
Benjy took a deep breath and invited himself inside, opening the heavy door. They all turned towards him. Minerva looked out of place wearing a red dress, but she looked nice. Benjy cleared his throat and grinned at Madam Bones, who had been waiting for him to say his piece. Mr. Urquart, who had every right to throw him out, hid his emotions. He’d waited a very, very long time for this.
–Choose your words carefully, sir. I can throw you in contempt for this,†said Amelia Bones lightly. She laughed when she read the man’s mingled expression. He settled for a hand gesture.
–I’m late,†Benjy said apologetically, glancing at the damp carpet. He held up the flowers. –Ran through the rain and all. I’ll stand over there.â€
He gestured to the fireplace. Madam Bones only smiled at him and Minerva crossed the room and took his arm. She took him off his guard and threw her arms around his neck.
–I didn’t want you to be here alone,†he said, swallowing a lump in his throat. She said nothing, but he put a lot of unsaid things into his embrace. He patted her on the back. –I love you.â€
He’d said it countless times before, sometimes even sober, but it sounded different this time. He let her go and nodded at Mr. Urquart. He’d been lucky to land on the right date and time. He took a step back and thought he didn’t need to be here.
–Right.†Benjy clapped his hands together and grinned at them. ‘Where were we?â€
Madam Bones took a thick volume off of her desk and starting reading a passage in her booming voice. They exchanged simple vows, and Benjy felt a pang of pride when Minerva casually edited through all the submit and obey nonsense. She met his eye, still smiling, and slid a gold wedding band onto her husband’s hand.