[ Printer Friendly Version ] [ Report Abuse ]
Chapter 7 : Tick, Tock, Frankie's on the Clock
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 7|
Background: Font color:
At school, she had been relentlessly average, both academically and socially, and the only things she had ever really been good at were working hard and her unrelenting loyalty to things that mattered to her. And so, like many other Hufflepuffs before her, Frankie had long ago resigned herself to being stereotypical — even if it was in the best possible sense.
She had always liked Herbology a lot back in school (again, how stereotypical) and had hoped to get an apprenticeship of some kind after she finished her seventh year, perhaps somewhere interesting like the Amazon or Malaysia so she could become an Apothecary like her stepfather had been. But in the end, all the openings had gone to other candidates, and Frankie had been left trying to find a job around town.
She had worked a long string of odd jobs over the years — her favorite of which had been as a nanny for a wealthy family with toddler twin girls — to pay for her own flat and living expenses and now, by some stroke of luck, had ended up with a job at the Ministry of Magic, something a million witches and wizards would kill for, especially considering the state of the Wizarding economy.
It felt a bit odd walking through the ministry without a visitor’s badge on and it felt even stranger to walk up to Harry Potter’s office, raising her hand to knock on the door like she belonged there. Behind her, the Auror’s office was almost disturbingly silent and Frankie had the random thought that maybe it was actually Saturday. She shook her head, knuckles hitting the solid wood of the door forbodingly, and stared at the brass nameplate that hung at eye-level during the long beat of silence that followed. She knocked again, this time feeling a little bit less like she was heralding her own execution.
“Frankie?” a voice said from behind her and she jumped. “You’re certainly punctual, aren’t you?”
Turning, Frankie came face-to-face with her new boss, who was looking at her almost bemusedly while holding a cup of tea.
“Well. You did say eight o’clock, sir,” she said, feeling embarrassed by his look.
“I know, it’s just — we mostly get former Gryffindors in here and we’re not exactly known for being morning people.” Frankie remembered very distinctly that Mr. Potter had been in Gryffindor house himself back in school and must have made a face because he quickly amended, “I’m just here early because I’m the boss. I went to go make some tea before starting in on paperwork.”
He nodded at the teacup in his hand and Frankie said quickly, “Oh! I could have done that for you!”
Laughing, Mr. Potter walked back past the break room, motioning for her to follow him. “I’m really not that kind of boss, I promise. I can get my own tea and lunches. What I need is someone to talk to the other departments for me, manage my schedule and, well — “
He had pulled open a door and the exclamation had slipped out before Frankie could stop it when she saw what lay behind it. That was… a lot of files. The room in front of them — well, actually it was more like a closet — was obviously some kind of storage space and it was completely filled, pell-mell, with stack after stack of file folders.
Mr. Potter seemed to be hiding a smile at the look on her face but became suddenly distracted by something behind her. “Ron! You’re in early this morning. Alright there, mate?”
“This the new guy?” An extremely tall redhead came to stand next to Mr. Potter and Frankie recognized him from the papers as Ron Weasley. He grinned, his whole freckled face filling up with the smile. “Swearing on the first day. I think I’m going to like this one. Ron Weasley.”
He stuck his hand out and Frankie shook it, feeling a little dazed. Two famous people in this early in the morning was a bit much to handle. “Frankie Delaney. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Turning to Mr. Potter he explained, “I came because Hermione was talking to Ginny last night and said something about homemade teacake.”
Mr. Potter snorted. “Yeah, she sent you some. I think she’s trying to distract herself from the fact that James leaves for school in a few weeks and now we’ve got half the pantry filled with cake. Yours is in my office.” He glanced at Frankie. “Interested in a piece?”
“No, I think I’d better…” Frankie took another look at the forest of file folders, “Erm, get started.”
Mr. Potter nodded and headed off, Ron trailing behind him, eyes shining and muttering dreamily about ‘a pantry full of cakes’ and Frankie mentally rolled up her sleeves.
This whole secretary thing might end up being a little more work than she thought, but she wasn’t a Hufflepuff for nothing and finally, that might actually come in handy.
It took Frankie about half an hour to decide that being an Auror must involve a lot more paperwork than she had originally thought.
She didn’t consider herself a particularly organized person (when she’d been living alone, her flat had always been just on the edge of messy, mostly due to her habit of throwing clothes all over the place), but for the first time in her life, surrounded by endless towers of parchment, Frankie found herself contemplating the process of color coding.
“Is there a reason you’re lying on the floor on your first day of work or are you already taking a break? It’s barely 8:30 in the morning.”
Frankie knew who was standing at the door without turning around to look. Instead, she slapped the file in her hand down on the growing pile to her right and said acidly, “You mean lying on the floor isn’t the job you had me interviewed for?”
“Surprised you got the job at all with that attitude, having a lie-in on the storage room floor.” David nudged her in the side with his shoe and Frankie finally turned to look up at him. “Come on. Everyone wants to meet you and you’re busy hiding in a closet.”
Frankie opened her mouth to say something, but shut it again as though she’d thought better of it. Instead, she pushed herself to her feet and brushed the dust off her trousers. “I was going to make another closet joke, but it’s just too easy. I feel like I’m cheating.”
David rolled his eyes and walked away from the doorway, obviously expecting Frankie to follow. He looked nice that morning, polished as always, with his fashionably cut pants and the sleeves of his red shirt rolled up to his elbows. At least Frankie would have noticed that if she was one to look at clothes. Which she totally wasn’t.
Almost all of the desks were occupied now, compared to less than a half an hour ago, when Frankie had arrived herself to find the office nearly empty and David called out to a blond man she vaguely remembered seeing the day before, “Where the hell is Pollux? He’s usually here by now.”
The man shrugged. “No idea. He’s probably — “
“Late. I know. Blame the wife.” The voice behind her was deep and rumbling and Frankie wondered if she was going to spend the rest of her time while she was employed at the Aurors being snuck up on from behind by men’s voices.
“One of these days,” David said from beside her, “Sonya is going to hurt you for calling her that when you’ve never actually married her.”
Frankie knew she should turn, introduce herself to everyone, but the woman with the desk on the far wall, the blonde woman with the gun from the day before, was staring at her. Well, not staring exactly, Frankie realized after a moment.
Caught somewhere between mortification and uncomfortable laughter, Frankie watched as her eyes traveled up and down. Not just looking, no; the woman was actually checking her out.
Then, as if she had decided she didn’t much care for what she’d just seen (right, Frankie reminded herself, everyone thought she was a man here), the woman seemed to scoff and went back to the parchment in her hands.
It had only been a few seconds, but it was enough to make Frankie completely lose track of the conversation, and she jumped when a huge man popped up in front of her to obstruct her vision.
“ — And I thought you said Mr. Potter’s new secretary was a man!” the man, who was obviously the owner of the rumbly voice was saying. “This here is definitely a wo — oh bloody hell, I’m sorry. From the back I could have sworn…”
There was a beat of silence while the man stared and stared at her and Frankie began to feel very uncomfortable.
“Yeah,” David finally said, drawing out the word in some kind of grim understanding and Frankie thought he was probably remembering that fateful evening a few weeks ago at the food shop. “I told you it was a guy.”
Frankie scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. “Erm, yes. That happens sometimes. Don’t worry about it.”
“Anyway.” David cleared his throat. “This is Pollux, and over there is his partner Neil,” the blond man David had called out to earlier nodded and Pollux cut in hastily, “He means partners at work, not partners, you know, in life. Just to be clear.”
David rolled his eyes. “Will you get a grip? We all told you, no one cares what you and Neil do.”
“Exactly. Because we don’t do anything. There’s nothing for us to do together.”
“Except work,” Neil reminded him, sounding amused.
“Right. Except that.”
“And that,” David continued loudly pointing at the small brunette woman sitting at the cubicle across from Neil’s, “is Ambrosine. She works mostly with Dark artifacts and things.”
The woman waved at her with a kind smile, but there was something that made Frankie feel that, despite her size, she was not someone you wanted to cross.
“Her partner, Etta, is over there.”
“She’s not my partner,” the woman David had pointed out, an aristocratic-looking woman with jet-black hair and a snobbishly upturned nose, and Ambrosine said at the same time.
“Right,” David said, ignoring them as well. “And over there is Yvonne.”
The blonde woman looked up from the parchment in her hands again and nodded minutely at Frankie, looking bored.
Frankie shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and David made a face.
“Well,” he said after a long moment, “that’s everyone, so…”
Frankie cleared her throat and smiled pleasantly at everyone as David walked her back down the corridor again. “You know, for some reason I thought there would be… more of you.”
“What, you mean more Aurors? Well, you haven’t met all of us, of course, some are out on assignments and … after the war, there weren’t really all that many experienced Aurors left. Minister Shacklebolt, Mr. Potter and Ron basically rebuilt the entire department from scratch. Pollux and Neil were some of the first ones to complete their training after things really got going again.” David’s solemn face broke into a smile and he patted her on the shoulder. “Besides, you haven’t even met the research and intel geeks yet. Don’t worry. You’ll have your hands full soon enough.”
Frankie looked back into the archives room warily. “I think they’re pretty much full already.”
“If you think there’s a lot of files in there, you should take a closer look at Mr. Potter’s office.” David laughed at the look on Frankie’s face, heading back towards his desk.
After a few days at the office, Frankie had managed to sort through about half of the towers of files in the archives room in between doing her regular work, and was beginning the slow process of color coding. Luckily, all that took was a simple color change charm on each file folder and then a banishing charm to send it to its proper place on the shelves, but the repetitions of the spells were slowly tiring her out and so she went to go see if she could find a cup of coffee anywhere.
On her way to the break room, she stuck her head into Mr. Potter’s office.
“Was there anything you needed, Mr. Potter?” she asked, and he looked up from whatever he’d been writing, hair going every which way and glasses a bit smudged.
“Could you double-check my schedule for this afternoon? I know I have something but I can’t quite remember what…”
Frankie smiled slightly. “You have a meeting with the Head of Magical Games and Sports in an hour to discuss security for the first game of the new season.”
Mr. Potter ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath, saying, “I know you’ve only been here for four days, but remind me how I managed without you?”
A warm bubble of pride expanded in her chest, but instead Frankie replied modestly, “I’m sure you did just fine. And I’ll be sure to come and let you know when it’s time for you to leave.”
Swinging by the break room for a mug of coffee, she collapsed into her desk chair and pulled out a package of biscuits from one of her drawers.
Frankie set down her coffee so she could try and massage out a kink she had in her neck, closing her eyes and tilting her chair back a little so that she didn’t notice that David had come up to her desk until he kicked at her chair, almost causing her to go sprawling onto the floor. Luckily, Frankie had grabbed at the edge of her desk before that could happen and fixed her gaze on David with a scowl.
Ignoring her look, David stole Frankie’s cup from the corner of her desk and took a sip. Gagging and sticking out his tongue in disgust, he hastily set the cup back down. Disgusting. “That is not tea.”
“Well spotted, Sherlock Holmes. That’s what you get for stealing other people’s food. What would your mother say?”
“Ugh,” David said, slightly muffled because of the napkin he was blotting his tongue with to get the taste out. “Coffee tastes like tar. Don’t you know we drink tea here in England. Why are you not drinking tea?”
Frankie snorted unattractively into her biscuit. “I think you may like tea more than my grandmother. But suit yourself, Teacup McKettleson.”
She snatched her cup up out of his reach and David scowled at Frankie, propping himself on the corner of her desk and saying, “Speaking of my mother, are you free next Tuesday night? It’s Jocelyn’s birthday and Mum wanted to see if you could come with us for dinner.”
Frankie shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Should I, I don’t know, get her something?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve already done that. I’ll just say its from the both of — “ He trailed off, looking towards the entrance to the office, where Yvonne had just strolled in dressed in full field gear, which apparently included tight black pants and fitted black cloak that billowed out behind her as if it were in a breeze.
The whole office seemed to go quiet for a moment, all the activity slowing down until she reached her desk and sat down. David, however, was still staring at Yvonne.
Frankie watched as she took off her cloak. “She’s really beautiful. Like, slow-motion beautiful.”
“Yeah, she’s… “ David seemed to snap out of it after a moment. “Wait. Slow-motion beautiful? Who says things like that?”
For some reason, Frankie felt her face heat, and she rushed to defend herself. “Well, she is! When she came in the office everyone slowed down!”
“That’s just because Aurors don’t react well to sudden movements or loud noises.” David eyed the blonde as she took her wand and gun out of her holster and set them on the desk. “Especially not Yvonne.”
Frankie laughed. “That was a joke, right?”
David shrugged. “Sure.”
“So.” Frankie busied herself with rummaging through one of her desk drawers. “You guys used to date?”
“Yes.” When she looked up, he was still staring at Yvonne.
“What happened?” She tried her best to seem disinterested, and then wondered why she even needed to pretend she didn’t care in the first place.
David’s mouth twisted tightly and from the side, Frankie couldn’t tell if he was smiling or angry. “I think you’d have to ask her that.”
“Oh, she dumped you, huh?”
Finally turning to look at her again, he snapped, “I’d love to continue this conversation later, but I have a meeting right now. In the meantime, you might want to think over the fact that the person you’re currently irritating is literally licensed to kill.”
Frankie laughed as he walked away, wondering exactly how serious this Yvonne thing still was anyway.
Later that morning, Ambrosine stuck her head into the evidence storage room while Frankie was attempting to do an inventory. Now that she had managed to get it so that there was actually room to stand in the archives room, she had decided it was time to start on a few other things, such as the complete wreck that was evidence storage.
Holding up a bag of what looked to be several small rubber ducks, Ambrosine said, “I just wanted to drop this off. They’re enchanted to go into kill mode any time they hear the word ‘bath’, so the bag is charmed shut and soundproof and imperturbable and stuff. Where should I put it?”
Frankie blinked, wondering for the first time exactly what kinds of extremely dangerous objects were surrounding her in this room, and decided it was probably better not to think about it too much. Enchanted rubber ducks were probably just the tip of the evidence iceberg. “Oh, anywhere. I don’t know what the woman before me was like, but it’s going to take weeks to get this all sorted out. Wouldn’t that go to the Misuse Office anyway, since it’s Muggle?”
Ambrosine set the bag down on the nearest shelf and shook her head. “Not when they’ve been involved in a crime. You wouldn’t believe it, but the nasty little buggers have really sharp teeth.” Frankie stared at the bag. Rubber ducks. With teeth. Ambrosine smiled at Frankie’s expression encouragingly. “Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of this before you know it.”
“Thanks.” She looked down at her clipboard and before Ambrosine had a chance to leave again, asked haltingly, “So… David and Yvonne. They used to…”
“Date?” She looked as though she knew what Frankie was getting at and went on, “Yeah. For over a year, I think.”
The question had been bothering Frankie all morning, for reasons she couldn’t, and didn’t really want to, explain. “A year. Wow. That’s a long time.”
Nodding, Ambrosine seemed to be debating whether or not to say something. “Yvonne is… well, you’ll see. Just because they’re not together anymore doesn’t mean David isn’t still completely wrapped around her finger.”
She gave Frankie a knowing look and then excused herself, saying it was time for her lunch break. Frankie frowned down at her clipboard again.
David’s reasons behind hiring her as a fake-boyfriend suddenly seemed a lot more complicated than before.
By the end of the week, Frankie felt like she was settling into the office pretty nicely, and had decided to organize her desk area before the weekend.
Unfortunately, Mr. Potter’s former secretary seemed to be even weirder than she had originally supposed and so the whole desk organizing... thing was taking a bit longer than she had thought.
“David,” she asked, sounding somewhat alarmed from her place in front of the cabinet that was supposed to hold all the important Floo addresses that the Head of the Aurors might need. “Why is this filing cabinet full of… tissues?”
David, who was busy enchanting several new pins to go on the “Auror’s Most Wanted” world map that took up most of the wall to the right of Frankie’s desk, didn’t seem to hear her and continued humming to himself loudly.
He waved his wand over another pin, causing it to glow a bright blue, and Frankie thought she heard him start to sing quietly, a catchy tune that she was sure she'd heard before.
The minute he started to do a little dance though, Frankie drew the line. “What the hell are you doing?”
David whipped around as though he had just noticed that half the Auror office was staring at him with wide eyes. “Um, it was a number one hit?”
As if on cue, everyone, including Neil, who Frankie had noticed was almost always implacable, dissolved into a fit of laughter.
“Come on guys, stop it. It’s really not that funny.” Pollux took another look at David’s face and set his head down on his desk so he could laugh even harder. “Ugh, you’re all so… judgey.”
Finally managing to collect herself, Frankie wiped a tear of laughter out of her eye and repeated, “Why is this cabinet full of tissues?”
David blanched, walking over.
“Oh, Mr. Potter must have forgotten to have them removed.” He vanished them with a flick of his wand and then said swiftly, “I have a, um — I have to go wash my cat.”
Frankie watched him hurry off and then looked around at the other people near her. “Is everyone seriously pretending like having a cabinet full of used tissues isn’t completely weird?”
“Oh well,” Ambrosine started hesitantly, “Mr. Potter’s last secretary was a little — “
Neil cut in, “She was completely obsessed with David.”
“Stalked him, really,” added Pollux and then he laughed. “Remember how she would try and shag him all over the office? It wasn’t so bad when he was with Yvonne, but after they split — let’s just say he was a wanted man. And she had those long fingernails, remember? Like talons.”
He flexed his fingers in imitation and collectively, the whole office shuddered.
“Remember when she cornered him in the gym showers that one time?” the woman whose desk was next to Ambrosine’s but wasn’t her partner, Etta, said. They all laughed and Frankie glanced at the clock, realizing that it was almost time for Mr. Potter’s weekly Floo call with the Americans, and hurried off to remind him before she forgot.
Somehow, over the weekend, it was as if the work she had to do had increased exponentially and Frankie spent most of Monday scrambling around trying to get things done at top speed so she wouldn’t fall behind.
None of this was helped by the fact that she could never seem to find David when she needed him. After nearly a quarter of an hour of searching, it was understandable that Frankie was more than a little irritated when she discovered David, along with Yvonne, downstairs in the practice range.
“David.” She tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention because of the earmuffs he was wearing. “Did you ever finish up paperwork on the Peyrebrune case that I asked you for yesterday?”
“Yeah, I’ll — hang on,” he said distractedly. “Yvonne’s just showing me her new gun and wand holster. I’ll do it in a minute.“
David turned back around, adjusting the ear-coverings again and Frankie waited for a beat as he watched Yvonne practice drawing her wand from the new holster a few times.
She could feel the irritation begin rising in her chest and waited a beat before pulling the earmuffs off his head again. “Seriously?”
“Ms. Granger’s assistant has been — “ Behind him, Yvonne sighed, rolling her eyes behind her safety glasses, and Frankie took David by the arm, dragging him over by the door and mostly out of earshot. She hissed at him, “She’s been hounding me all day for the paperwork to that case and you’re down here with her?”
“I don’t know what your problem is, whether you’re jealous or whatever, but I’ve been working here a long time and — “
“You think I’m jealous?! My problem is that I’m just trying to do my job and you’re just screwing around.”
“The job that I got you. Relax, and I’ll give you the paperwork whenever I damn well finish it.”
He moved to put his gear back on, but not before Franking said scathingly, “Ambrosine was right. You’re so under Yvonne’s thumb, I’m surprised you can even move on your own.”
“That’s totally not — “ David started angrily, but Frankie cut him off.
“Count me out for dinner tomorrow night. You should just take her along instead.”
David felt uneasy after his… fight with Frankie.
At least, he guessed it had been a fight. It was more of an argument.
A tiff, really.
There was absolutely no reason for David to feel so tense the next morning when he set the completed files for the Peyrebrune case on the corner of Frankie’s desk.
The other man didn’t even look up from the memo he was writing.
David cleared his throat. “Here’s the paperwork you wanted for the Peyrebru — “
“Great. Thanks for getting it back to me.” Frankie spared him a glance and nodded before going to pick of his wand and charming the memo into the proper shape, sending it off towards the lift with a small flick.
“So about tonight — “
“I really don’t have time for this right now,” Frankie cut him off, standing up from his desk. “Mr. Potter’s late for a meeting with the Minister, Ms. Granger’s assistant has been bugging me all morning, and Etta and Ambrosine just came back from a raid with about a million evidence bags that I’m going to have to sort through by the end of today, so if you need to talk about something non-work related, could you please wait and find me on my break?”
“It’s fine.” They stood awkwardly for a moment and David had an irrational urge to grab Frankie by the shoulders and make him listen to his apology. He was well-dressed today, nothing like the sweatpants-wearing bum that he had been only a week or so ago, and David found himself suddenly a little thrown off by Frankie’s quick transformation into a ‘professional working man’.
“I’ve got to go and get Mr. Potter,” Frankie said quietly. “Excuse me.”
And there was something about the exchange that bothered David for the whole rest of the day.
When he actually had time to unwind after a long day at work, David liked to take his dog, an overly friendly, overly energetic, overly adorable black labrador Max, to the park near Diagon Alley. Thankfully, the sun was on its way down by the time they got there and so the air was losing its heat. Picking an empty stretch, David threw Max’s ball, the blue one with the yellow stripe, and watched him bolt after it.
He whipped around. “Frankie?”
The other man was sitting at a bench, still in his work clothes and looking harried. “What are you — “
Max ran up and dropped his ball at David’s feet, looking up at him eagerly.
“You have a dog?” Frankie sounded surprised and Max turned at the sound of his voice, wandering over curiously.
“Yeah, this is Max. He’s — “ Frankie reached out, scratching Max’s ears hesitantly, and the dog pressed up against his knee, tongue lolling out happily, “ — friendly.”
David sighed. Max never had been the wary, guard dog type. He held out the ball wordlessly and Frankie took it, standing up from the bench when Max barked and wagged his tail excitedly.
Frankie wasn’t skinny like some men, but he was slender, which made his limbs seem longer despite his shorter height. David watched him wind up to throw the ball, arm extending and curling back before moving forward, forearm muscles flexing underneath the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt as he let go.
Max hurled after it and David cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m um, sorry. About yesterday, when I was down in the shooting range — “
Frankie cut in, “Why do you care what she thinks anyway?”
It didn’t seem like he was too interested in hearing apologies and David scratched the back of his neck. He never quite knew how to explain things with his ex-girlfriend. “Yvonne? She’s… special.”
“What, because she’s beautiful?”
“No, you wouldn’t understand.” Sometimes David didn’t even think he understood, really. There was something so incredibly magnetic about Yvonne, something that kept pulling him, long after they were over. “You don’t know her like I do. You’ve never seen what she’s really like. She’s funny, and sarcastic and you’d never know it, but she’s kind of shy. She just never acts that way in front of other people. I think she feels like she has to put up a tough front to be taken seriously.”
Max bounded back with the ball and Frankie took it again. He made a face, though whether it was because the ball looked a bit drooly or something else, David couldn’t tell. “I don’t know how you can be very sure she’s really like that if she never actually acts that way. ” He threw the ball again and without looking at David, asked, “Do you still love her?”
Did he still love Yvonne? It was a question he hadn’t really wanted to ask himself since she had ended things last year.
“It’s just a habit,” he said, more for himself than in as an answer to Frankie’s question. “One that I can’t seem to kick.”
Max brought the ball back and David suddenly noticed how dark it had gotten. “I should head out. I’ve got dinner for Jocelyn’s birthday.”
“Right. Erm,” Frankie bit his lip and David focused on attaching Max’s leash to distract himself from the movement. “You know, what I said before about how you should take Yvonne instead — I didn’t mean it.”
He very carefully didn’t look up, scratching Max behind the ears as Frankie went on, “I’ll go with you. If you still want me to, I mean.”
Standing up, David cleared his throat. “I — yeah. Yeah, that’d be nice.”
Frankie’s smile somehow managed to light up his whole face. “Great! Is — is what I’m wearing okay?”
He looked down a little helplessly and David was reminded of their shopping trip and how completely useless the other man was when it came to dressing himself. Today though, he looked nice, in fitted black trousers and a light blue dress shirt with the collar undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There was something different about his hair too. David wasn’t sure if Frankie had styled it differently, or if, over the course of the day, it had been ruffled out of place, but it was hanging over his forehead now, shadowing his eyes a bit from the dusky light.
“S-ure,” he started, voice breaking slightly, probably because it was kind of warm out, he thought, and then tried again. “What you have on looks fine.”
Only, it was strange, because if they hadn’t really been having a fight, then why did he feel so relieved that Frankie wasn’t angry at him anymore?
A/N: So. Funny story: I graduated! And therefore, here is a new chapter, and I hope the length (finally broke 5k!) makes up for the wait! A lot of people were introduced, but hopefully we'll have a chance to get to know them more as the story goes on. Frankie seems to have her work cut out for her at the Aurors, along with the fact that she still hasn't told Mr. Potter what she's hiding like she promised her mother she would. And of course, yet another dinner. Apparently dinner is the only meal the Connors family eats haha.
Huge thanks to Melissa (witnesstoitall) for looking over this chapter for me, along with Gubby (GubraitianFire) for reading the unfinished version and loving me enough to tell me it was anticlimactic (it was). And to all my very dear friends, this past semester was a long one for all of us. Thank you so much for putting up with my randomness and idk things and stuff, you know what I mean. I love you more than Maru loves boxes -- and that's saying something!
Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and 'The First Shop of Coffee Prince' belongs entirely to MBC Korea. I own nothing you recognize.
Other Similar Stories
by Isabella ...