Maraudering Matters

March, 2007

“Master, it is time.” Kreacher’s bullfrog voice permeated the door of his room, and Harry sat up on his bed where he had been staring at the ceiling of Sirius’s – now his – room, since 5 am that morning. Getting up at the ass crack of dawn and getting ready for the day was a habit he still hadn’t been able to shake, not that many people were aware of it – especially not Theo, even though he had been living in his guest bedroom for four months.

New York wasn’t unlike London in some aspects (crowded, pushy, busy, alive) and it was completely different in some others (variety of buildings, variety of people, cultures, food, music, life). Or maybe Harry just hadn’t explored his own city as well as he had New York. The only reasonable conclusion he could draw about the city, from his excursions to MACUSA headquarters over the past months was that:

A) He didn’t want to live in New York on his own. It was too… much. He needed a place either outside the city with breathing room or he needed a place in another city altogether. The latter appealed to him, since he had always wanted to be closer to the sea and he was slowly finding himself attracted south and to the West Coast. (He even entertained immigrating to Mexico for a wild second.)

B) He had no skills that could get him a job anywhere he would like to work, and attending college or university was out of the question. He might have given in to the idea of further studies if Hermione had been here accompanying him on this soul searching journey-slash-phase of his probably-immortal life, but currently he needed to decide between pursuing a career or opening up a business.

He could hear Ron’s voice snorting in his head ‘Like that’s even a choice for you. Anyone who’s ever lived with you knows you’re too lazy to work for a career from scratch.’ And as Harry slipped downstairs to the kitchen, passing Kreacher a smile as he handed him his morning tea, he couldn’t help but agree.

The only thing he could voluntarily happily do for the rest of his life was cook for people. He loved feeding people – maybe Molly Weasley had rubbed off on him or maybe he had been so used to cooking after doing it for the Dursleys for seventeen years that it never felt like work or chores to him – it was just second nature by now. There were seldom any explosions or unchartered territory to be covered with it, and he got the illusion of being in control and feeling useful, even if he was doing nothing and going absolutely nowhere in his life.

He had finally decided, after talking it through with Theo that working in a restaurant was his best bet so far, as it was only option since he had no culinary degrees to show in the muggle world. A short cut would have to do.

A bored looking guard passed an electronic stick over Harry’s body as he made to enter the place he was meeting Justin.  He crossed the handsomely polished doors, looking around carefully at the place he had just stepped into. The hall resembled a waiting room, and he figured it was just that – only it was glinting superiorly, sending waves and reminders of wealthiness and class, with it’s brightly polished and lit chandelier blinking off the many mirrors and richly painted walls. The room was ornately decorated – it consisted of three sofas set at one side around a rich mahogany table decorated with intricate carvings matching those on the door. A large bowl filled with what looked like strangely, but aesthetically, glinting stones, along with two small lamps sat in the middle of the table’s surface. Two cabinets set at opposite ends in the corners showed off a collection of silverware – cups, plates or lockets, inscribed with things he couldn’t quite recognize but felt sure were the crests of some old houses.

To the other side, facing the middle sofa and the sitting area directly, sat a thin old bespectacled man at the reception. He wore a handsomely printed waistcoat, and his face was not as lined, nor his hair as grey as it appeared at first glance. Two muggle escalators faced the door he had just stepped through and there were two buttons to operate them in the middle; an equally ancient but imposing grandfather clock ticked by the reception desk.

Hesitating, Harry turned to the man sitting at the reception, approaching him in fast strides; just as the man looked up and took notice of him, peering up from his thin glasses set low upon his nose. His eyes flicked to the scar, but other than that he gave no indication of his knowledge as to who he was and what he was doing there.

“You’ll want to go on the left one, Mr. Potter. I think pressing two should do the trick.”

Harry closed his mouth, nodded hastily and walked to the escalator on the left, pressing the button beside it. He looked over his shoulder to see the man resume writing in his notebook with his eagle feather quill. To his other side, only three people occupied the seats – two, clearly muggle – a couple sitting cozily together, reading a magazine, and a wizard, amicably dressed, reading The Quibbler while sipping on his tea.

Harry felt a sudden jolt in his stomach at the sight of the old magazine – like he had missed a step walking. He missed Luna horribly in that moment, resenting his old decision to introduce the blonde cousins, which had undoubtedly led to the owner of the place providing copies in his waiting area. It had only danced around in the back of his head ever since he had noticed the peacocks carved in the doors - the idea that he might know the owner of this hotel rather too well, well enough that he would somehow get wind of his presence there.

Harry jabbed a finger at the button again, irritation at Kingsley rising considerably – Harry had made clear he meant to disappear from the lives of everyone at home; so why had he set them up here to discuss the offer? They could have very well done this at any other place, preferably not owned by any of his ex-classmates, especially one who probably watched every single guest that made it through the door of his establishment and was sure to receive news of his arrival sooner rather than later – a circumstance Harry was absolutely unwilling to face.

Thankfully, the lift doors opened, and Harry walked in, pressing the number two, noticing what the other numbers said:

1: Reception

2: Restaurant

3: Rooms

4: Maintenance

5: Canteen

6: St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

7: Ministry of Magic (Visitor’s Entrance)

8: Wiltshire

9: Hogsmeade

10: London

11: Athens

12: Tokyo

13: Paris

14: Cairo

All in all, Harry was rather impressed, even though he would never admit to Malfoy how genius it seemed, and how dangerous, to finally have connected all the wizarding hot spots and made them accessible through a simple muggle means. When they had last talked, Malfoy had been obsessed with getting all the paperwork done to finally open his new chain of interconnected restaurants and hotels to the wizarding world. The construction had been completed years ago, with only final touches remaining; Harry knew Hermione had researched the magic involved to the full of her abilities, and only the mountains of paperwork, all of which Malfoy had insisted on seeing to personally, had been the hindrance to the final opening.   

The door clicked open and Harry stepped into the rather noisy room; for the noises suddenly washed over him – the loud chatter coming from almost all tables, a faint song being played on the wireless, orders being shouted about by the woman behind the counter and loud boisterous laughter, marked by giggles and other noises that he was probably missing because of the rest.

He only had a second to take it all in, as Justin immediately pulled him into the room by the arm and guided him onto the nearest table, pressing a butterbeer into his hands. “Drink up quickly, will you? We’ll be out of here in a jiffy. I had a meeting with an old pal from the British Ministry, so we decided to meet here. I know you didn’t want to show up on Malfoy’s radar –” Justin added hastily, noting the look on Harry’s face, “ – but I’d be too late if I went home first or we met anywhere else. I don’t know many areas to apparate safely in New York, and this is one of them so it will have to do for now.”

Harry nodded his consent of the explanation, grunting at Justin’s rather flustered face – “Tell me about the property.”

“Well, it’s in Los Angeles, or at least I think around there somewhere. It’s pretty close to the city – like you wanted. And it’s an old wizarding property – it came to the Ministry because some old teacher who taught in Ilvermorny died childless - some old pureblood. It’s at least a few centuries old I think, and it has everything in there; the records said it was inhabited by a wizarding family for a few years before being abandoned and they left a lot of furniture and everything around. It’s really expensive though.”

“Of course.”

Harry hadn’t expected anything less. Wizarding property rates were even higher than muggle ones at this time, but he was sure that he needed a magical environment to thrive, rather like a poisonous plant – needing to feed off the positive vibrations provided by old magic.

“And you’re sure you don’t have a preference to where you open that shop of yours? Maybe some place nearer-”

“No. I just need a decent place to live - undetected, or at least capable of being made so. Out of the way but near enough to a city, any city, where I can set up shop.”

Justin nodded, still deep in thought, and Harry added, “Don’t worry it won’t be a big place, just a small one, enough to –”

“No, no, I’m not worried about that. I think I’ll have to look into the protective spells the Ministry deems important enough to cast on every wizarding house. It’s procedure, I think – I’ll have to confirm the extent of these spells from Tirone. Then you can decide if they’re good enough.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded enthusiastically – he felt much safer casting his own protections by his own hand over his future house, “Yeah. That sounds good. Do that.”

With his thoughts fixed on trying to remember all the protective spells he had encountered and was versed in, he finished off the butterbeer and got up to follow Justin ducking his way expertly through the crowd.

“Where are we supposed to apparate from?” Surely, they couldn’t apparate from within the room – but Justin shook his head and quietly entered the lift that had opened in front of them. Once they were alone, he pressed the fifth button.

“There’s an apparition room in the canteen – only a few people know this. Malfoy told me because he knows I have to apparate around New York a lot and it’s hard to do from the streets. I expected Granger and Weasley and all your lot might’ve known about this –”

“No, it’s a recent addition.” Harry said, cutting him off as the doors opened to a room identical to the one they had left, except this one was full of people wearing colored robes – sky blue, lilac and grey being the most prominent ones – and very few people sitting around the tables. Only a handful of wizards sitting on the tables were devoid of the uniforms. They were too, he expected, special favorites of Malfoy, those he had deemed worthy of enjoying the benefits of the apparition room.

Justin nodded at two wizards sitting huddled over a plate in the corner, both of who smiled back shiftily and went back to their conversation. Leading to the back through the storage room, Justin stopped outside an old brown door, tapped it with his wand, muttered, “Salazar’s soggy pocket” and the opened the door into an old and very empty room.

“I don’t know if he thinks of the passwords himself or some of his staff is just really funny. Come on. Let’s go see it.” Justin said, offering his arm to Harry, who was still grinning at the password. He thought he had a good idea who was setting those passwords in the name of Draco Malfoy’s security.

Smiling sadly, he grabbed Justin’s arm and felt himself being squeezed through the familiar sensation of side-along apparition.  

“It’s on the outskirts of the city, like you asked. You have to walk through the forest area for a few miles, and you can’t apparate nearer than this. That’s the Pacific Coast Highway.” Justin jabbed a thumb towards the highway they had apparated near, within the cover of the trees running alongside it. Harry could see the vast blueness stretching as far as the eye could see on the other side of the thick and hot black road, connecting with the sunset orange sky at a horizon that looked like it was at the end of the earth.  

Harry nodded quietly as they both started walking into the forest, Justin looking at his watch after a few seconds.

“We’re meeting Rolf Scamander here, by the way.” Justin explained at Harry’s questioning look, and hurried to explain again as Harry opened his mouth, “The house has been empty for a while, so there are going to be some unwanted residents around. Rolf’s a friend and he works at MACUSA so he’s helping speed things up for the sale of this property. American wizards are much more discreet and strict about their muggle relations so everything is a lot slower than it is at our Ministry.”

“Alright. But I need his discretion about all of this. Nobody’s supposed to know anything – like I keep reminding Kingsley.” Harry snapped, and tried to believe that involving another American Ministry wizard would not complicate things for him. It was hard enough for him to talk to Justin on Kingsley’s insistence; he had only agreed because it was necessary to do everything through another person since Harry Potter couldn’t very well be seen strolling through the MACUSA getting wand permits and buying properties.

“Don’t worry about Rolf. He can be a bit of a nut, but he’s very professional when it comes down to the main stuff.” Justin assured, and Harry frowned at the familiar surname.

“Scamander? Like –? ”

“Oh he’s Newt Scamander’s grandson. Y’know - the author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them?”

“Oh, our Care of Magical Creatures textbook! Nice.”

“Yeah. Rolf’s a really interesting fellow, when he’s not chasing Selmas and Duquwaqas across the world, that is.”

Harry chuckled, reminded of Luna, and decided to not entirely dismiss Rolf Scamander before getting to know the man a little better.

“We’re here.” Justin said, just as Harry had been about to ask how farther they had to walk. They had just rounded a corner and stood at the edge of a small muddy path leading to a heavy and ancient-looking black iron-wrought gate already pushed slightly open.

From outside, the building looked much bigger than he needed it to be; it was probably a manor, though he refused to call it that. Just as he was catching a glimpse of the rather large lawn and gardens surrounding the building, he noticed a dark-haired man walking towards them from the front of what looked like a broad stone driveway.

Rolf Scamander wore an easy grin that lit up his hazel eyes, both his hands stuffed in the front of a muggle hoodie – something Harry thought was unusual given the fact that not only was the man a wizard, but a wizard in hot weather.

“Hello. I’m Rolf Scamander, although I expect Justin has already told you why I’m here, given how much he complains about the problems caused because of you and your secrecy.” The man had a somewhat high-pitched voice for someone who sported such sharp features – the cut of his jaw and cheekbones looked like they could rival Malfoy’s.

Harry smirked at Justin, who looked suddenly busy with his watch, and promptly shook hands with Scamander, smiling to make sure the man knew he was not offended. “You’re right. He did tell me and I’d be sorry for all the bother the secrecy is causing, if it wasn’t of utmost importance. No worries, though, that’s something that can’t be helped, so why don’t we focus on the matter at hand?”

Scamander smiled a straight and perfect smile, before pushing open the large gate and ushering the three of them inside. “What’s the verdict on the house? How is everything?” Harry began, noticing the broken fountain and overgrown condition of the front lawn.

“Well, the construction is in perfect condition. It’s made of white stone so no worries about that failing anytime soon. Two bedrooms and a dining room on the second floor have caved in because of some plant overgrowth – but it’s nothing we can’t fix with magic. Or you can leave it that way if you want –”

“Wait, how many floors are there?”

“Three. The servant quarters and sitting room are on the first floor, bedrooms and library on the second and the attic on the third. I think they had a drawing room and study and everything on the ground floor but the last residents blasted it in favor of an open area plan. Don’t worry it looks good.”

“How many bedrooms?”

“Five. The master bedroom’s at the far end and it’s got two balconies; I think you might like that one.”

“Right. What about the garden and lawns? Their condition doesn’t look too good – will I have to fix all of it myself?”

“Well, yes. It’s not as hard as it looks if you’re reading the right self-help books.” Scamander seemed to have noticed his unsure expression, because he added, “Don’t worry I’ll lend you some.”

“Really? That would be a relief. No one knows you see…” Harry muttered shyly, and Scamander nodded sincerely, “Of course. I understand your situation. You can’t ask anyone for help, that’s alright.”

“Thanks. I mean it.” Harry said, shoving his hands deeper into his own robes pockets as they walked on, touring the grounds circling the property.

He would have to tend to the vast garden in the backyard and the surrounding grounds himself, which would be no easy feat since they were quite vast. Magic was probably the only reason he’d manage to get any work done with no outer help.

“About the cleanup – there’s nothing you can’t handle yourself, like doxies and other household insects except two things – there’s a demiguise living in the bushes by the oak tree at the south east corner of your backyard, and there’s an occammy living in a cupboard in your dining room.”

Scamander waited for his response, but Harry unfortunately had no idea what the man was talking about. His blank expression might have made that fact apparent, however, as Scamander launched into explanation without further prompt.

“Demiguise are peaceful and non-threatening herbivores but it’s really hard to catch them because they can foresee the future and turn invisible when they feel threatened. That’s why they’re classified XXXX. Plus their hair is used to make invisibility cloaks so the black market trade rate for those is always flourishing.”

 “They’re not life threatening in anyway though, are they?” Harry asked after an unsure second of speculation, “And don’t I need a permit or something to keep one in my backyard as a pet if they’re that highly classified?”

“Not if I don’t mention him in my report, if you’re serious about letting him stay undisturbed?”

“Yeah.” Harry answered finally, “Yeah. What harm can it do, right? Plus more company for me and less paperwork for you. Win-win, eh?”

Scamander smiled at Harry, in a delighted sort of way, looking rather excited, “Would you mind if I visit him sometimes, to try and make friends with him?”

“Of course!” Harry grinned at the brunette, thinking he ought to introduce the man to Luna someday, “Whenever you feel like. Drop by anytime.”

“Thanks, Potter. You’re a real champ. Justin, you whine too much about him, man.”

Justin, who had wandered off ahead of them, only raised a non-committal hand as acknowledgement. “Now, about the occammy. They’re more aggressive to outsiders because their eggs are made of silver – so they’re always in high demand and face constant threats. They eat rats and monkeys and small bugs as far as I know, and the one living in your cupboard isn’t too big either – barely eight feet.”

“Eight feet?! How big do these things get?”

“Well, they can get as big as fifteen, but think of them as feathered snakes – they stay coiled so they don’t take up much space. Not to mention they can change their size according to the space they’re occupying so they’re not much of a bother. Cool, right?”

Harry could think of nothing to reply to that as he was reminded sharply of Hagrid, and decided to try to make his nod more enthusiastic than he felt, as they went on to explore the rest of the property.

The ground floor did support an open floor plan – the main door opened to the sizeable living-slash-drawing room. The left side of the room had a TV propped on the wall, facing two sofas and a few armchairs. The right side sported a large desk and a bookshelf in one corner, along with a fireplace near the end of the farther corner, surrounded by beanbags and two loveseats. A door in the middle led off to a pantry that ran by the right side of the house, with another door opening in the kitchen. In the left corner, the wine cellar was placed, almost hidden from sight but not entirely; the presence of the huge bar table in front of it kind of gave it away.

A door between the cellar and the living area opened to the porch, which had a small patch of flowers and a table set that made Harry feel ancient by just looking at it. He would tend to the grounds, the garden and the vegetable patch himself everyday - something he hoped he could work into his somewhat shaky routine once the business would take off. 

Smack dab in the middle of the living-slash-drawing room ceiling was the big bronze-golden chandelier that Harry tried to convince himself he would remove because it was completely over the top, but to no luck. The part of him that missed home (which seemed to control his actions when it came to interior decoration) wanted his house to have as much resemblance to all of his old homes as possible. The most difficult part, despite two magical beasts residing inside the house, was becoming talking himself out of getting some chickens and gnomes and letting them roam free in order to give the house The Burrow’s feel.

He mentally decided he would decorate the living room with pictures he’d bring from home. The fireplace could have a huge photograph of the Weasley family over it – the one from Egypt, the one with Pettigrew. But Harry didn't care – Fred was in it. On top of the fireplace he could place pictures of everyone from that one gala where everyone wanted to look their best to receive their Orders of Merlin. It was the only time he remembered Luna dressing like a normal person. He had pictures of everyone both separately and together – Harry and Ron, Harry and Hermione, Hermione and Ginny, Harry and Ginny, Ginny, Ron and Hermione, George, Harry and Ron with Mrs. Weasely, etc. There were about fifty of these and he could cover a fourth of the living room walls with them.

The sofas were already a plush Gryffindor red, the carpet a pretty bronze. The table placed in the centre was oversized and old, but it held a compartment for books and coasters underneath it and Harry liked it enough at first inspection.

He would have to install tinted and carved glass-wood separators so that the kitchen was hidden from view of the living room, in case he ever had a guest. The kitchen was almost the same size as the living room, supporting a light blue-green theme in contrast to the deep reds and bronze of the living area, looking modern and airy. There was a cupboard in the kitchen, running from ceiling to floor, that could hold all his experiments with food and everything new he’d be able to come up with for serving at his café.

A door to the right of the kitchen led to a rather small guest room, attached to a glorious bath – something that had Harry wishing the attached bedroom was bigger so that he could stay there instead. The bathroom was designed like a forest – he didn't know where the owner had gotten that idea but it made the place look like heaven. The bath tub was surrounded by plants and a mirror on one wall, one that gave the room an amazing ambience. The dressing room attached to it looked like it could at least hold all of Harry's old clothes – robes, dress robes, school robes, quidditch robes, quidditch gear, and even his new Firebolt 2000 – things he wouldn’t have a use for in his new life.

The cupboard in the kitchen covered a small door that lead to the basement – it held some old gym equipment but Harry thought he could easily convert it into a defence practice room. Everything important that was useful to him during the War, he’d store there. That way, he could also seal the place with as many protective spells as he could think of because the material inside it would requisition such care - there were the books on Hocruxes, the two Hocruxes and the replica of the Sword of Gryffindor Malfoy had later provided him with.

All other sentimental artifacts he had relating to the War would be hidden there too – the Marauders' Map, Sirius' mirror's shard, along with the other mirror Aberforth had later given to him, seeing no use in keeping it – even his beloved old Firebolt he had recovered from Dudley. Sirius' bike would lay there unused as well (even though it was repaired and working, thanks to Mr. Weasley) at least until he could perfect riding it. The only thing Harry would keep on him was the Invisiblity Cloak.

Another door off the kitchen led directly to the back garden – right into the overgrown vegetable patch. Right outside the kitchen’s back door was the spiral staircase that led off to a landing on the floors above, and then to the roof, which Harry couldn’t really figure out how to use. (He had never had a use for a roof in his life). Just because he could, only and only because he could – Harry decided he would have a slide to come down from. Because he could. He was barely able to stop himself from thinking of buying a swing set for the porch.

He chose the bedroom Scamander had suggested, after all, since it covered a fourth of the second floor but it’d go mostly empty – except for the half library that’d form the other half of the floor. Harry had knowingly packed half the Black and Potter Library with him, simply so that Hermione couldn't research on that topic. His bedroom would have to be a pseudo library for all of those books, and the bathroom and closet would cover the rest of the half. The bed was a pretty large one – thrust up next to the window, with two armchairs and a desk on the other side of it.

The walls of the bedroom would also be covered with pictures from his Hogwarts years, from the summer holidays to the snows in Hogsmeade - to every picture in Hagrid's album, which he had soon made multiple copies of. There was even a picture of the Dursleys there somewhere near the end. The one with the old Order of The Pheonix would be placed next to his bedside; somehow he felt it needed a special place of honor – just like the ones on the mantelpiece downstairs.

Both the balconies of his bedroom overlooked the grounds, but from one of them, he could spot the sea just above the tree tops. When he had sat on the roof experimentally, the view of the sea, the stars, the horizon, was clear as it could ever be. The sea was a thin line but it was there, and it was comforting, since he was sure he’d have more difficulty living alone this time - something that was proved true a few months later, when he finally moved in.

July, 2007

The interview was to be held in a small coffee shop just outside of Santa Monica, and Harry was determined not to let his nervousness show. For one, he was the interviewer not the interviewee so his nervousness was completely unfounded. And second of all, he had finally pulled a Hermione and actually organized himself on what he needed to ask and how he needed to do it. He had a clear idea of what kind of people he needed to surround himself with in order to make sure he could survive running a business with as much customer interaction as this one needed.

The girl – student, he corrected himself – arrived two minutes early, which was a good sign. Right? She was blonde and rather short, he noticed, as she walked towards him, wearing a simple floral dress. She smiled fully at him with her chocolate brown eyes, light and simple, while sitting down and setting down her bag.

“Hi. I’m Caramel. Harry Potter, right?” They shook hands, and the smile never left her face, even if she did so politely and rather confidently.

“Yep, nice to meet you Caramel. You wanna order something?” He asked, setting his few sheets of papers on the table, and returning her smile. He probably should have brought a file.

“Nah, I’m good. I had a late lunch. Is this where I’ll be working?” She asked happily, looking around curiously and Harry shook his head, “Oh no. My place is still under construction and it’s actually quite close to the University you study at.”

“Right.”

“So what do you study again?”

Caramel studied Business Administration, was a freshman in college, she was not a single child, or she had been but now she had a cousin brother who lived with them after his parents had recently died. Her grades were good, she had an interest in business studies but she needed a job to pass the time since she didn’t like hanging out with her negligible friends. She also had very bouncy hair, which made her head look like it moved around a lot, even when it didn’t.

Harry hated the fact that he still retained so much of his Auror training that he could spot even the smallest lie – notwithstanding if he was interrogating someone or interviewing them. He decided to abandon his papers on a whim, needing to connect with the girl better. Or at least to the point where she didn’t have to lie to him out of fright of not getting employed.

He made a show of putting away his papers, and then sat back, fixing the young girl with a stare. She twitched for a few moments, before tucking her hair behind her ear and looking at him nervously, “What?”

“Here’s the thing, Caramel. I know you’re lying to me.” To her credit, the girl only blinked at him, and he continued on. “I like you. I think you’d do a good job at my place. But I need people in my staff that I can trust. It doesn’t come easy to me, and you not sharing correct information is only making it harder for me. So let’s just both be honest here and try this again.”

There seemed to be a somewhat reluctant but note able shift in the girl’s persona – she went from sitting completely erect to a slightly relaxed pose and her smile seemed a little more embarrassed and less in-your-face-confident. She nodded finally and crossed her arms, leaning forward and setting her elbows on the table.

“This is a two-way street I suppose.” Harry considered, and decided that he needed to run his place in his style, not Hermione’s. No matter how obviously easier and more efficient hers would be. He looked at the people walking right outside the café. It was a busy street and the place was less crowded than it could’ve been, given it was a Friday.

“I lived in London until last year. I needed a change of lifestyle so I decided to come here, and got settled with the help of some friends. I love cooking, but I don’t have any valuable degrees so I decided to open up my own business instead of looking for a job. The only problem is - I have no fucking idea how to run a business, but here I am, trying.”

Caramel grinned at him and he grinned back, feeling himself relax a little as she took a sip of her water, and started talking. “I think that’s pretty brave of you. I don’t think I could move away from my life even if I hated it and had the means to do it. But yeah. I lied.” She admitted with a slightly guilty smile, before continuing.

“I do love studying business. I think I really have a mind for it – a really good knack actually. So I could totally help you with the finer details of it, if you’ll let me, of course. And I need this job because I don’t like being home. It’s just as simple as that.” 

Harry stared at her interestedly a little longer, before she gave in and explained further, “I have no friends to speak of. I come on too rude or headstrong I guess, that’s what Jon says –my cousin. And my parents are not the greatest people. I mean there’s no abuse, don’t worry but they’re both working and on the edge of divorce. They don’t pay attention much – never have – and ever since Jon came along, we both have really bonded and they just ignore him even though he needs their help more than I ever did. I mean it was okay when it happened to me – I’m used to it. But Jon needs help, and I just hate it when I’m home and I have to see him sitting there invisible to their eyes. It’s really not fair to him.”

She frowned at the glass in her hand, and Harry found himself nodding thoughtfully; her voice had adopted a matter-of-fact tone – like she had just adopted and accepted the situation and made peace with it. It was the same tone he used for the rare occasion he had had to describe Privet Drive to someone.

 “How old is Jon?”

“This one will be his last year of high school. He’s going to start college with me next year so I’m worried about that too. He also wants to start looking for a job and I think it’s too early for him. But I don’t know – the alternate isn’t too great either, y’know?”

Harry nodded, and he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Is he good at anything – Jon? Could he help around the café if we find a place for him?”

Caramel blinked at him in shock for a second, before pulling herself together and frowning again, “Well, I think he knows how to make coffee, I guess. He liked baking, he told me once. That’s all the cooking related info I have on him. You don’t have to do that though, it’s not that bad. We’re handling it okay so far.”

Caramel looked uncomfortable, her forehead pronounced with lines of confusion – or stubbornness to not accept charity – he couldn’t tell. It wasn’t charity though – he himself didn’t think of it that way and he didn’t want her to think of it like that either.

“Look, it’s not a big deal, okay? I just need four people and I need them soon. I see a potential person who can be of benefit to me so I asked. I just need this whole interviewing part to be over soon so I can get down to the real work. I’m pretty excited about that – this, not so much.”

He explained, signaling between them, and Caramel shook her head, smiling a little. “Y’know I don’t want to think what would’ve happened if this was anyone other than me you were talking to. And I really don’t want that to happen, so I’m just gonna start helping you with the whole ‘boring part’ of the business set-up. Is that cool with you?”

A paranoid little voice that sounded a bit too much like Draco was screaming about trusting people at the back of his mind, but an even louder, overly excited part of his brain was trying really hard to shut that voice up because – Wow, no paperwork. “Okay, what exactly would that entail?”

“Well, the main paperwork of the registration of the business, it’s a long process and I’ll have to study ahead a little, but I’d love to do that, honestly. Other than that-” She sat back, an excited glint in her eyes as she thought aloud, “I could shorten down interview candidates for you?” She shot him a questioning look, to which he shrugged rather quickly.

“Have you decided anything about the interiors yet? What about equipment? Furniture? Products? What exactly do you wanna be selling? And expenses – Oh God, I bet you’ve been ignoring all the important filing that’s needed, haven’t you?”

“Alright, alright you’re hired. What filing?”