Water the Baby, Will You?
James sighed as he got into the lift shaft that led up to McGonagall’s apartment. The sun had set on his walk downtown, which was just long enough for him to agonize over how much money he lost. Three thousand. No matter. He’d bounce back.
James stopped outside the door, staring at the weathered wood grain for a moment before sighing and knocking shave and a haircut. He heard a commotion behind the door before a familiar smiling face threw it open.
“Evening Poppy–”
“Ahh! James Potter!” James’s face lifted into a smile as Poppy Pomfrey beamed at him, cutting off his greeting. James tipped his hat to her as she ushered him in, pushing him through the door only to stop him, twirling him around to get a look at him.
“If you aren’t looking sharp in those linens! If I didn’t know you so well, I’d swear you had some class!”
James heard laughter coming out of the kitchen, and Peter’s head poked out from around the corner, raising a curious eyebrow at the commotion. He looked James over once before wolf whistling.
“Ay, looking good James! What, are you getting married or something?” James scrunched up his nose at Peter, trying not to feel offended that this was the second time someone asked him that today. Pomfrey interrupted him again as she whirled around the house.
“Minnie said you were something to see today!” James shook his head, reaching up and handing Pomfrey her hat from the top of the coat rack.
“I don’t know, Poppy, I’ve gotta get faster tying up that bundle. I’m still giving ‘em too much time to think.” Pomfrey took the hat with a thank you, securing it on her head as she scoffed.
“Pshaw. I played that switch with slower hands than you’ve got. ‘Course, up and down Broadway was my game. Me and Minnie didn’t make much off it, but it wasn’t so touchy. Those marks could beat you up real bad if they caught you making that switch–oh, I’m late for church!”
James raised his eyebrow, helping her into her fading red pea coat as she looked at the little clock on the wall. It was shaped like an owl flying, its wings the hands pointing to the time. 11:30. “Since when do you go to church at night?” Pomfrey grinned at him.
“Since they started late night bingo! Sprout and I have a bet going on who will win more games. I’m telling you, I’m gonna be praying for some of that good luck while it’s still going around!” She flicked James’s suit cuff for emphasis and slipped her shoes on, opening the door before shouting to the kitchen.
“Minnie, I’m off! Oh, and water the baby, will you?” She pointed to the corner, and James followed her gaze to a single lotus sitting in a terracotta pot. The “baby.”
With that, Pomfrey bid James goodnight, and rushed out the door.
James stood there for one moment, smiling, before walking to the kitchen and sitting down at the round table, plopping into his seat.
Peter and McGonagall sat across from him, cramped by the cupboards stacked high with books on everything from history to science to anatomy. There was a deck of cards halfheartedly shuffled between them.
“Nice going by the way, Pete. That guy turned out to be an oil well.” James missed how McGonagall stayed quiet as Peter laughed, his hands still stained from the red ink he and Minnie had spread on her dress. Peter always had an eye for good marks.
“Which way did he go?” James asked Peter, who had been in charge of chasing the mark down the street. He might have felt a little bad if the guy actually tried to go to Privet Drive. (Not that much would have happened, as the mail slot belonged to McGonagall.)
Peter shook his head, understanding Jame’s implicit question. “North. The guy was trying to make it out with all of it.” Oh. Well in that case, James didn’t feel bad at all.
“Bastard. Well, he can blow his nose all the way.”
James turned to McGonagall, reaching into his pocket and putting the envelope down on the table, divvying up the money, which Peter snatched up, eagerly thumbing through each bill. James pushed McGonagall her own stack.
James’s smile dimmed as he caught the melancholic look on Minerva’s face.
“There you go, Minnie. Three gees.” McGonagall didn’t even look at it, instead narrowing her eyes at James. He shrunk in his seat under her knowing gaze.
“You’re late. Where’ve you been?” James felt his heart slip on a metaphorical banana peel. Shit. He shrugged nonchalantly.
“I had a few appointments,” he said as vaguely as possible. McGonagall gave him an unimpressed look as James suddenly became very interested in the kitchen drapes. She sighed and leant back in her chair.
“How much did you lose?”
James sucked in a breath through his teeth before speaking.
“...All of it.”
McGonagall’s lips pursed into a thin line and her voice became curt. “In one damn night? What are you spraying money around for like that? You could have been nailed!”
James crossed his arms defensively. “I checked the place out, there were no dicks in there.” McGonnagall interrupted him, hitting the table and making Peter jump in his chair.
“You’re a conman. And you blew it like a pimp! I didn’t teach you to be a pimp.” Her brows furrowed, creasing along her forehead.
James frowned; this wasn’t normal. He had blown money before, and all he had gotten was a sigh or a roll of the eyes. Why did she choose now to get on his case about it?
“What’s eating you?” James asked, looking over her face. She wasn’t sick, was she? Got the flu?
McGonagall paused at his question, her brow unfurrowing and lifting her hand from the table. She shook her head, rubbing at her temples instead. “No class grifter would have done it, that’s all.”
James felt a spike of defensiveness flare up his spine, and now it was his turn to hit the table, making poor Peter jump again as he watched the conversation like a tennis match. “You think my play is bad?--”
“--I think it’s the best.” McGonagall leant forward to meet him, interrupting James before he could even get angry. James sat back in his seat, abashed that he had misread what she was saying.
McGonagall sighed, folding her hands and fixing James with a bittersweet look.
“I wouldn’t be quitting otherwise.”
What.
It took James a few moments to understand what she was saying. She was quitting?
“What?!” James asked, intelligently.
McGonagall shook her head, waving her hand. “I’m getting too slow for this racket. You hang on too long and you start embarrassing yourself.”
James shook his head vehemently, feeling a sense of dread at the quietly determined look in McGonagall’s eyes. He knew where this was going.
“What do you mean? We just took off with the biggest score of our lives!”
James hit Peter in the chest, signaling for him to back him up. Instead, Peter didn’t say anything, just sitting back in his chair. After a moment, James realized that McGonagall must have already told him before James arrived. What, and he hadn’t thought to warn James?
McGonagall shook her head. “It’s nothing like what you could be making on the Big Con. You’re wasting your time on street marks.”
James felt his face pull down into a frown. He shook his head again, almost hard enough for his glasses to fly off his face. “To hell with the big con.”
James just felt his heart drop more as McGonagall only offered him a sympathetic, unconvinced smile. James furrowed his brow in angered confusion. “Plus, you played the big con. You said it yourself, it’s a place only for mama’s boys and flakes.”
McGonagall sighed, pausing for a moment before letting out a small rueful laugh. “Hell, I never played any big con. I hung around and picked up a few things, made a few friends. But Poppy and I couldn’t risk getting the attention of the government or the feds if something went wrong. You know that.”
She fiddled with the promise ring around her finger. A thin band of silver, identical to the one that Poppy had on her hand. James felt some of the fight drain out of him.
McGonagall finally reached for the stack of money before her, picking it up and waving it at James. “This was just the last thing I needed. Now I have a chance to step out while I’m ahead.”
James knew it was no use. The quiet determination had grown into average determination. James knew better than most everyone that when McGonagall put her mind to something, she would do it.
James sat back in his chair, letting out a scoff of disbelief. “What the hell are you going to do with yourself?”
McGonagall stood from the table, walking around to the counter where a beat up tea kettle sat. She spoke as she poked through the cupboards for a mug.
“I have a friend down in K.C. who runs a freight outlet. She’ll let Poppy and I go halfsies with her. It’s not too exciting. But it’s mostly legal.” James watched as she added a spoonful of sugar to her tea and began looking through the stacks of books. James couldn't believe this.
McGonagall hummed at his silence. “Brighten up, James. I wouldn’t be turning you out if you weren’t ready.” She found what she was looking for, and handed a slip of paper to James with an address written on it in a neat print.
“There’s a guy in Chicago I want you to find. There’s not a better inside man alive. He’ll teach you everything you need to know. I talked to him about seeing you a bit ago, always changing houses, that boy. I wrote it all on the paper.”
James stared at the address, his eyes seeing the numbers and name, but not registering them in the slightest. James shook his head, pushing the paper back to McGonagall as she sat back down across from him.
“To hell with him. I want to work with you, Minnie.” James pursed his lips as McGonagall pushed the paper back to him, patting his hand with a terrible finality.
“I’m out, James.”