prep
"I've got some friends in high places,
on these small town roads."
Thursday afternoon came faster than Sheriff Harry had anticipated. He started that day with a to-do list nearly a quarter-mile long. With the dance only 24 hours away, he was a bundle of nerves. Why anyone would choose him to organize such an event, he hadn’t the faintest clue. Fortunately for him, his wife and her best friend were far more adept at planning a party. Since he received the news, the two women could be found nightly, heads pressed together discussing the finer details.
That afternoon was no different, safe for the fact that their little group was missing it’s newest participant. Mister Teddy seemed rather invested in the evening's success and was often found bouncing ideas back and forth with the women but his presence was noticeably missing.
“No shadow today, Mione?” Ron observed and was rewarded with a mere shrug of Hermione’s shoulders. One thing about her, when she was invested in something Hermione was not easily distracted.
Unfortunately for Ron, his younger sister did not have the same reservations.
“Oh, hush.” Ginny chastised, knowing that Mister Teddy had left to have dinner with his friends only twenty minutes prior. She was honestly surprised the pair of lawmen hadn't crossed his path as they arrived, there was only one road off their property after all. “You must have just missed him, he had to leave in order to be on time for his supper plans.”
“Plans? What plans?” Ron inquired, suddenly suspicious. “The fella has only just gotten to town, who else does he even know?”
“Well, the young man’s bound to forge his own way eventually.” Mister Weasley contributed as he slid off his boots and entered the cozy home. “Especially if he plans on staying in town for any real length of time.”
“I reckon so,” Ron muttered, slightly embarrassed after being dismissed by his fathers simple logic. The older man nodded once, satisfied, and ventured further into the house to greet his wife.
The two gentlemen sat across from the duo and attempted to join in the planning but were immediately silenced after Harry suggested that they could decorate the town hall with burlap because they “have an abundance on every farm.”
“To assume that, a mere day before the party, we haven’t got decorations sorted out yet is an insult to our organizational skills.” Hermione scolded her friend, and returned to the papers in front of her. To Harry, it looked like a bunch of scraps with illegible scribbles but Hermione seemed rather interested so he deemed it to be of at least semi-importance.
“Her students have been helping all week. We’ve got just about everything covered, the only concern I have is music. Harry, please tell me you’ve figured somethin’ out?” Ginny elaborated on behalf of her overly focused friend. Harry had told the group that he would ask his godfather and his band to be their live entertainment.
“It’s Sirius Black. You know he’ll agree to anything if it means he gets to be performing on a stage.” Harry reassured his wife, having spoken to the odd man three days earlier. He hadn’t needed to say much past the open stage and a few drinks on the house to convince him.
“Bet he’s just excited to be playing for more than just his kinfolk.” Ron joked, referencing the Black Family’s large estate parties that more often than not end with Harry’s godfather drunkenly serenading at least three people.
“Well, there’s that sorted.” Hermione nodded and dragged her pen in a harsh line across her page, crossing off the task. “Do y’all think we should start decorating tonight? I have most of the supplies ready, and then that’s one less thing to do tomorrow.”
“Oh, can we go now? I’d love to see our concept come to life!” Ginny jumped to her feet, pulling Harry along with her. “I know youse just got home, but hurry up.”
Ron offered to hook up his mustang to the carriage and set off to do just that. Making the carrying of boxes ‘bout a hundred times easier, Hermione caught Fred and George sneaking a kerchief of wild berry tarts from the kitchen and roped them into helping.
Soon the six companions were piled next to boxes of decorations and being pulled down the road by Chudley, Ron’s favoured buckskin. They stopped in quickly at Wrackspurts to pick up two barrels of wine from Miss Lovegood, who all but insisted that she join them despite the full barroom behind her.
The dark hall was soon illuminated by the lanterns Fred and George had begun lighting along the walls. Hermione passed around a charcoal mock-up of what she wanted the hall to look like. With the intended location of all furniture clearly marked, the men immediately got to work hauling the heavy banquet tables and coinciding chairs.
With the help of her students, Hermione had four boxes full of meticulously folded paper stars. With old strips of fishing line, they intended to hang the shapes from the ceiling. Hermione had borrowed yards of various blue linens from Miss Minnie with the promise of their unaltered return after the get-together.
It had taken some strategizing, but the three women managed to haul themselves, the linens and all four boxes of stars up into the rafters. They sat, each straddling a sturdy beam, their pale skirts falling on either side of the aged wood and began individually stringing up the childrens creations.
While at this height, Hermione used the opportunity to fasten small mirrors on select planks of wood, so they could capture and reflect the flicker of the wall lanterns, attempting to create dancing shadows on the hall’s dramatic ceiling. Luna and Ginny, having hung the contents of all four boxes, now began scooching further apart on their beams and, startling Hermione half to death, Ginny tossed a bolt of fabric across the open expanse between rafters.
Luckily, Luna swiftly caught the unfolding material and draped it across the beam she was occupying.
“Your turn, Mione.” George egged on from the floor, catching on before Hermione to just exactly what Luna was planning. The blonde woman turned, an encouraging smile stretched her rosy lips as she tossed Hermione the bolt without a word of warning.
“Luna, I-” Hermione began, but stopped her protest the moment the light fabric dropped accurately into her awaiting hands. “Oh wow, that’s mighty efficient.” She hadn’t begun to conceptualize how they’d actually manage to decorate the way they intended. It was much easier to just imagine the decorations being there; as Ginny so helpfully reminded Hermione every night.
“Told you not to worry.” Ginny teased from two rafters away, swinging her legs in delight that her idea had actually worked. “Now, I’m fixing to throw the rest of these, so be ready.”
It was mere minutes later than the three women descended, their empty boxes having been tossed onto the empty dance floor below. They pulled white tablecloths out of the hall’s storage and draped them across as many tables as they were able. Upon inspection, Hermione deemed the fellas' hard work acceptable.
Fred while grinning like a madman from behind the makeshift bar, mimed chugging from the wine barrels spout, resulting in a few good natured laughs.
Hermione smiled while rolling her eyes. Reminding herself never to have Fred man the bar.
Ever.
Ginny’s niece, Victoire, was tasked with the creation of two paper chains of considerable length, and just that morning she delivered in fine fashion. She presented her aunt with perfectly symmetrical chains that were now being hung in swooping U’s around the building's front porch.
The final step was completed as Fred and George snuffed out the lanterns inside.
In celebration of their hard work now finished for the evening, Miss Lovegood invited the group into Wrackspurts as they dropped the young lady at the saloon’s back door.
The young friends were quick to agree and Ron tied Chudley to a nearby post, as the friends snagged a table near the front window. Harry, ever the hypervigilant, liked having the open vantage. He was able to see who was coming and going, and what was happening inside and outside the bar. Even off duty, he was on high alert.
It wasn’t long before a round of drinks seemed to magically appear at their table.
—--------
Wrackspurts was crowded for early afternoon, but luckily for Theodore, his friends were always more punctual than him. There, in a different booth from last night to dissuade familiarity, a black hat hid what Theodore knew to be pin-straight blond hair that fell just below the jaw. Beside him, that gaudy eagle feather sat stuck in the brim of Blaise’s hat.
A bit too recognizable.
He’ll have to let his friend know to lose the plumage.
“Howdy.” Theodore greeted tursely as he sat down across from his lunch guests. “I assume y’all had the chance to take a quick tour today. Get your bearings before this weekend's events unfold.”
“Indeed.” The blond cowboy nodded, having wandered the town’s few streets for over two hours that afternoon.
“Quaint.” Critiqued the feathered cowboy, having noticed the distinct mundanity that engulfs the small settlement.
“Perfect. Then it seems the only thing left to discuss is,” Theodore thrummed his fingers on the table. “What’ll you fellas be wearing tomorrow night? Because, I reserved my suit at Minnie’s ages ago and I won’t be caught dead matching either of youse.”
“Well, if it’s got any colour in it, Malfoy here isn’t interested. He wouldn't dare stray from his all black ensembles.” Blaise teased, throwing his arm playfully around his friend's shoulder. The blond simply scoffed.
“It’s mighty practical. But, I’d be lying if I said the amount of dust in this town wasn’t making me reconsider my colour choices. Might opt for a dull brown just to save myself the brushing off.” Malfoy finally cracked a smile, nodding towards the other patrons of the bar who all seemed to be sporting the same drab browns.
Noticing movement to his left, Theodore watched a short haired woman shuffle past his table, arms full of dirty glasses. She was deep in discussion with the man directly behind her, and Theodore managed to catch a piece of their conversation.
“Typical. Of course, she’s left me to handle things. My competency is my downfall.” The woman complained, and he deduced she was Miss Lovegood’s business partner, Madame Parkinson. As mere moments before, he watched the flighty barmaid take off with her friends.
Needing a fresh round, he decided to follow behind the pair, reaching the bar seconds after them.
“Pardon me, Madame. A round of scamper juice, for me and my comrades.” He rapped three times on the polished wood while smiling. The woman had yet to turn around, as she poured the whiskey with practiced ease.
Tossing the bottle in the air with a flourish, she turned around and the woman's eyes widened in horror as she made eye contact with Theodore. The bottle slipping slightly from her grasp, she blinked once, recentering herself.
See, Madame Parkinson enjoyed living in Hogwarts. Had intentionally chosen this place to settle down as it was a quiet town where nothing ever happened.
No surprises. Or so she thought.
For she just locked eyes with one of the last people she ever imagined would show up here.
Madame Parkinson allowed for five seconds to accept the surprise in front of her and then she was crossing the bar, a sharp painted nail extended at the man before her.
“You.” She hissed. Theodore had the gall to look just as shocked as she had felt.
“I- Pansy?” He stammered, composure the last thing on his mind. “YOU’RE Madame Parkinson?”
“Oh, honestly Theodore. I didn’t even change my name.” Pansy rolled her eyes at the lack of investigative skills he possessed. “Now, how in tarnation did you find me here?”
“Find you?” Theodore shook his head. “I had no inclination you were here, Pansy. By golly, what a coincidence. The fellas just arrived, s’like a family reunion.”
The woman before him paled instantly.
“The fellas? Who else is here, Teddy?” She demanded through gritted teeth, Family Reunion ringing through her head like an alarm. Preparing for her father to be sat somewhere in her saloon, waiting. For her to be dragged back to The Manor to be wed, despite her countless protests and outright refusal, to a no-good outlaw in exchange for enough land to take the rag off. “Who else knows I’m here?”
“What’s going on, Pans? It’s me.” Theodore reached his hand across the bar, and she backed away a step. “I won’t tell them you’re here. Is that what you want? Nobody’ll know I saw you, alright?”
“Please, Teddy. It’s important. I don’t want anyone to know where to find me.” She pleaded with the man, their history plain as day on her face. “You can’t tell them.”
Despite not knowing her motivations, Theodore would respect her wishes. He’d keep her secret. He figured he would get an explanation from her soon, there had to be a reason she left like she did.
Ten months ago, the young woman was effectively disowned. This happened after she had run away in the middle of the night, carrying a saddle bag and $10,000 worth of jewelry. Theodore had not so much as heard her name spoken since that night but a bounty was put up three states over by her father. Willing to pay for information on the whereabouts of his estranged daughter, he demanded justice for the theft.
“You have my word.” Theodore promised the frightened woman. Taking his drinks from the countertop, and leaving the woman staring at his receding form.
“Sorry for the wait fellas. One of them fancy ladies was askin’ me about being a cowboy, and I had to regale her with a story.” Theodore explained his delay with a bashful smile and his friends chalked his excuse up to Typical Theodore Behaviour.
The three men sat in companionable silence, that was sporadically broken up by Theodore vocalizing whatever half-loaded thought sprang to mind. They remained this way for hours. All the while, the three cowboys couldn’t be more opposite while laying in wait.
Knee bouncing, Theodore took another swig to calm himself slightly. His ramblings, an attempt to mask the slight nerves he was feeling.
He always felt this way before a job.
The unsettling roll to his stomach. Slight raise in body temperature and heart rate. He was tense. A spring, coiling tighter and tighter until its inevitable release.
Blaise was meticulous. He would read, reread and memorize the plan until he had every contingency mapped out. It was obvious to his friends, he wasn’t totally present. His chocolate eyes held this far-away look to them, as he got lost in his own strategizing.
And then there was Malfoy. The picture of cool confidence. He asked the questions he needed to and thought nothing more of it. Unable to plan for the unplannable. He knew things would change and they’d have to think on their feet anyways, it was inevitable. For the moment, he would rather try to enjoy his bottom-shelf whiskey and the company of his two best friends.
“Couldn’t even spring for the good stuff, huh? Giving us this rot-gut.” Malfoy eventually complained. “I’m going to buy the next round, I won’t cheap out like Teddy, here.” He moved to stand but Theodore was faster, and insisted upon himself going.
“I’ll get your grum hide something top shelf.” Theodore waved him off, walking toward the bar.
Blaise, scanning the winsome crowd, noticed a familiar head of curly hair walk in with a group of townsfolk.
“Say, ain’t that the gal Theodore was gabbin with yesterday?” He asked his companion, who looked up from fiddling with his ring and immediately saw the woman who ran into him the night prior. He failed to notice who she had been sitting with so he shrugged. Not bothering to mention their brief collision in that very bar. “With the sheriff?”
That got Malfoys attention. “Surely not.” But upon further inspection, he too realized the company the young woman kept was indeed the town's sheriff. One, Harry Potter. “Dammit.”
“How has he managed to make friends with the only people in town that stand in the way of us and our goals?” Blaise demanded in a harsh whisper, a slight rasp slipping into the question.
“Leave it to Theo to pull something like this. Can’t ever be simple with him.” Malfoy chastised, thinking back to the sticky situations he and his friends had managed to find themselves in. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Well, I’m going to head out of here before she spots Theo.” Blaise stood from the table and patted the cowboy on the shoulder. “Bright and early tomorrow, Draco.”
“Not a bad idea, Zabini. I reckon we should just call it a night.” Draco followed the taller man through the saloon until they reached the last member of their group, insisting he stop flirting with whoever was holding him and their last round up. And in a large swig from each of the gentlemen, they had finished their drinks and headed up the wooden stairs to their rented room.
Into the early hours of the morning, Theo laid on the down-filled mattress, wide awake, stewing over the following day's events.
It was stressful stuff, planning a bank robbery.