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It was one of those tedious, exhausting days that left Harry wondering why he’d ever wanted to be an Auror.
Before he managed a sip of tea at his desk that morning, Robards came from the interrogation room with an urgent lead: a suspect just admitted to selling a pair of cursed earrings to a jewelry shop in Hogsmeade. For months, the Aurors had been trying to locate the earrings, which were cursed to kill any Muggle that touched them along with a cache of other valuable, lethal objects that Death Eaters stole from Malfoy Manor during its time as Voldemort’s headquarters.
And so, after completing the paperwork for the warrant, he and Ron apparated to Scotland. He walked down High Street with a spring in his step, as he assumed that they’d retrieve the earrings and he’d be home early to meet Ginny, who was returning this afternoon from a two week preseason training camp in Italy. He planned to make a nice dinner, then spend the rest of the evening in bed, showing her exactly how much he missed her.
But it was the kind of day where nothing was easy, and everything seemed to go wrong.
Gladys, the elderly, batty owner of Gudgedon Gems, told them that she’d sold the earrings several days prior. All she could recall about the purchaser was that he was a “handsome lad” who charged the purchase to his Gringotts account given the hefty price. After hours of searching through the nearly illegible ledger, they finally located the account number of the purchaser.
“What kind of idiot doesn’t keep a ledger in chronological order,” Ron muttered as they finally exited the shop.
“Someone with a framed photo of Gilderoy Lockhart on her desk,” Harry replied.
Ron snorted with laughter, then back to London they went, filling out more paperwork at the office for another warrant to allow them to obtain the name of the account holder.
The ensuing visit to Gringotts was unpleasant- the goblins still held a grudge against them given the incident last year, so they were in no hurry to provide the information. Immediately upon seeing Harry and Ron, a goblin led them to a windowless chamber deep within the cavernous recesses of the bank, where four other goblins kept watch over them. After an hour without any information from the goblins, Ron sent a Patronus to Bill, and with his help, they learned that the account belonged to Chester Davies, who, in the only stroke of luck so far, Harry and Ron knew, as he was Roger Davies’ older brother and worked at the Ministry.
“Back to the office then,” grumbled Ron, as he and Harry followed their escort out the winding, dimly lit passage. “Let’s stop at the cart on the way in though, I’m starving.”
“We’ve got to find Davies first before he leaves for the day, it’s past five,” said Harry, as they passed through the narrow corridor, illuminated only by flickering torchlight on their right which sputtered into the blackness beyond the rickety rail separating them from the cavern on their left. With each step, his annoyance at the prospect of missing Ginny’s arrival increased. Distracted by thoughts of all he wanted to do to her later, his toe caught the edge of a stone in the floor, and he stumbled, nearly falling flat on his face. Thanks only to his quick reflexes, he managed to grab hold of the rickety railing and stay on his feet, but his glasses slipped off, falling over the railing and into the cavern where the vaults were.
“Oh, fuck me,” Harry swore, as their goblin escort snickered with laughter. He tried to summon his glasses, but of course, summoning charms didn’t work inside Gringotts.
So, at half past five, Ron, tetchy because he’d missed lunch, led a nearly blind Harry into the Ministry, where they managed to find Chester Davies before he left for the day.
“Oi, Davies!” shouted Ron, as he exited from a lift into the Atrium.
Harry, who could only see about a meter in front of him, watched as the blurry, smiling face of Chester Davies came closer.
“Weasley, Potter, what are you lads up to tonight?” asked Davies. “Group of us from Sports and Games are heading up to the Leaky, if you want to join.”
“We can’t,” Harry said curtly, “we’re on the job. Listen Davies, we’re looking for a pair of earrings you bought from Gudgeon’s Gems last week. They’ve got a curse on them that’s fatal to Muggles. We’ll need you to turn them over to us please. The Ministry will provide you with full restitution for the cost.”
“Oh, bad luck there I’m afraid,” Davies said, his tone far too cavalier considering the circumstances. “I gave them to my fiancé as an early wedding gift. Bridget’ll be gutted to hear about the curse, she loved those earrings. She gave me quite the thank you when I gave them to her last night, if you know what I mean.” Davies chuckled. Harry grit his teeth.
“What’s your fiancée’s name?” asked Ron.
“Bridget Bobbin. You might remember her younger sister Melinda, she was around your year at Hogwarts—“
“Where is she,” Harry cut in abruptly, wanting nothing more than to get the damn earrings, get home, and ravish Ginny, a prospect which was looking increasingly unlikely.
“She’s out for her hen party tonight. I think they were starting down at Incantatem, that new place in Diagon Alley. She took the day off and everything.”
Harry silently groaned. Could nothing come easily today?
“We’ll get a warrant straight away, shouldn’t take more than a half hour. Then we’ll head there,” said Ron to Harry.
“Alright then lads, I’m off to the pub! Enjoy the weekend!” Davies called, so cheerfully that Harry wanted to punch him.
“Aren’t you going to come with us?” Harry asked, his annoyance continuing to grow. “It would be easier if you were there with us to help explain it all to her.”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to crash her hen night. My stag do is tomorrow- I don’t want her returning the favor there, you understand I’m sure,” Davies replied with a roguish wink.
“Oh and just to warn you, Bridge can be a bit of a handful when she’s drunk. Good luck!” Despite his ominous last words, Davies’ blurry figure waved as he walked out of the Atrium.
“Fucking great,” muttered Harry through gritted teeth. “Ron, you get the new warrant. I’ll send a Patronus to Ginny- she’s probably already home. I’ll see if she can find my spare glasses and bring them to Incantatem. I can hardly see.”
Still wearing their scarlet Auror robes, Ron and Harry set off a half hour later down the winding cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley toward Incantatem, the posh new restaurant that was notoriously difficult to get a reservation for. Harry couldn’t see more than a meter in front of him, and gripped Ron’s arm to avoid falling on the perilous cobbled street. He felt ridiculous, like when he was a small child being dragged around by Petunia, and grew more self conscious with each step.
They paused outside the front window of the restaurant.
“I forgot how different you look without glasses,” remarked Ron, looking down at Harry with an amused grin.
Harry smiled in spite of his foul mood. “Been awhile since we’ve shared a bedroom, hasn’t it?”
Ron scanned the street and through the window. “Don’t think there’ll be any issues, but since we’re a bit exposed here out in public, I’ll keep a lookout on the door while you get the earrings from her, just in case, alright?”
“Yeah, thanks. I can’t see for shit.”
They walked through the doorway and into the restaurant, the ceiling twinkling with blurred fairy lights which reflected off the slick black tables and booths. Suddenly, peals of feminine laughter emanated from the back of the room.
“That’ll be them, I bet. Hopefully she’s not proper pissed,” Harry said, thinking of Davies’ warning.
“It’s early yet, how pissed could she be?” Ron replied.
They approached the large alcove in the back of the room which contained a long curved booth, where eight witches sat, buckets of champagne bottles littering the table. If their raucous laughter was any indication, they’d started early on the bubbly.
“That’s her, in the middle,” Ron murmured to Harry, motioning subtly to the brunette witch who sat in the center of the table, wearing a blue, low cut dress with a white sash which was emblazoned with blurry words Harry couldn’t make out. “Look, she’s wearing the earrings.”
“Thank fuck,” exhaled Harry.
As they drew nearer to the table, the fuzzy form of Bridget Bobbin came into focus, her long, dark hair styled in glossy waves, her hair tucked behind her ear on one side, revealing the large, teardrop aquamarine earrings which shone and reflected under the lights. She was pretty, though she could’ve looked like Millicent Bulstrode for all that Harry cared, so long as she was wearing the damn earrings.
He sighed, relieved that soon this tedious, never-ending day would be over and he and Ginny could have the rest of the evening to themselves. But fate, as ever, was not that kind to Harry Potter.
“Evening, ladies,” said Ron. The witches erupted into a fit of giggles.
“Oooh, did someone book strippers?” squealed a petite witch from the end of the table, her words loud and slurred.
Great, they’re all pissed.
Ron snorted and twitched with laughter, but Harry’s annoyance came rushing back.
“I don’t know, but thank you to whoever did!” piped up another.
“Are you here to arrest Bridget?” giggled a witch with short blonde hair seated to the right of the bride-to-be. “She’s been a very naughty witch, you know,” she said, in a sultry tone.
“It’s true. I’ll need to be taken into your custody straight away,” said Bridget, her voice even more slurred than the others as she stared directly at Harry, giving him the distinct impression that she was undressing him with her eyes.
Harry felt himself flush as the witches around the table erupted into shrieks of laughter; the short blonde witch at the end clutched her seat mate as they fell over on each other.
“Er, ma’am,” said Harry, flustered as he fumbled in his robes for his badge, “We’re really Aurors.”
As he held out the badge across the table towards Bridget, her eyes widened.
“You’re the fittest Auror I’ve ever seen,” she blurted out without a trace of embarrassment.
The other witches hooted at Bridget’s remark, their raucous laughter joining Ron’s snickers and reverberating off the walls of the alcove. Harry’s cheeks burned.
“Um, thank you?” he said, flummoxed.
“Seriously, you’re so fit .” Bridget deliberately leaned over the table and onto her elbows. Had he not been nearly blind, he would’ve had an excellent view of her tits.
“Errr.” The flush crept from his cheeks down his neck. Get the earrings and get home to Ginny. Steady on.
“Ma’am,” he continued, in his firmest Auror tone, “We’ve learned that your fiancé, Chester Davies, unknowingly purchased a pair of cursed earrings and recently gave them to you as a gift. I’m sorry, but you’ll need to turn your earrings over to us now. They carry a curse on them that is fatal to Muggles, so it’s urgent.”
He placed the warrant in front of her on the table, but she continued staring at him, apparently nonplussed that she was currently in the most populated city in England and her earrings could kill a Muggle with the smallest touch.
“You know,” she said, turning to the blonde to her right, “He kind of looks like Harry Potter, but without the glasses.”
“He’s fitter than Harry Potter, though,” the blonde replied without hesitation.
“ Much fitter.” Bridget agreed.
Ron guffawed, and despite his annoyance and utter mortification, Harry couldn’t help it: his lips curled into a wry smile.
“Oh, look at that smile! You know, if all Aurors were as fit as you, we wouldn’t have any crime. Your smile could bring about world peace, I swear.” Bridget fluttered her lashes at him as the witches erupted into giggles again.
“Erm, if I could just have the earrings please, ma’am,” Harry said weakly, desperate to have the day end already.
“Will you help me take them off? I’m terribly afraid I’ll be cursed. My grandmother was a Muggle, you know.”
“So was mine,” he said, glaring at Ron, who was now doubled over, wheezing with laughter. “And you put them on, didn’t you? So if you were affected by the curse, you’d already be dead.”
He extended his hand across the table to her, praying that this humiliation would end soon.
Bridget sighed, then made a show of reaching up and sliding off each earring before placing them in Harry’s outstretched hand, her fingers deliberately brushing and lingering over his as the other witches catcalled and whistled.
Harry grit his teeth. He turned and walked across the alcove to a still-laughing Ron, to whom he shot a dirty look, then placed the earrings in the secure case and magically locked it.
Harry exhaled and turned back towards the witches. “Well, erm, thank you for your cooperation, we’ll be off now. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“So polite!” the blonde witch chirped again.
“Auror,” Bridget said, her voice breathy, “As I quite thoroughly watched you walk across the room just now, I must congratulate you on your commitment to physical fitness. I’m so glad we’ve got men like you on the force.”
The witches whistled and shrieked with laughter. Harry wanted nothing more than to disapparate on the spot.
“Are you single?” the blonde witch shouted over the laughter.
“Ah, no I’ve got a girlfriend.”
“Pity. Do you have a brother?”
Harry, increasingly mortified and desperate for their attention to be directed anywhere besides him, gestured wildly at Ron, who was still doubled over with laughter. “No, but he does. He’s got loads of brothers.”
“And a sister too,” rang out a voice which he immediately recognized.
Ginny. He’d never been so happy to see her blurry form.
As she neared, based on her posture and the tilt of her head, he was certain her eyes were narrowed at the table of witches. She came close enough that he could see her features soften as he turned to her and took his glasses from her outstretched hand.
“Thanks,” he said, slipping on the glasses. “I’ve missed you.” Her beautiful face came into focus and he took step closer to embrace her, when-
“He’s Harry Potter!” shouted the witch at the end of the table, pointing at him like he was an animal in the zoo, her mouth agape.
“Merlin’s beard, he’s so fucking fit,” slurred Bridget.
Ginny raised her eyebrow, placed her arms around Harry‘s neck and then pulled him down, kissing him thoroughly, the type of kiss that she wouldn’t typically do in public, the kind of kiss that made his knees feel like jelly slugs and that made him wish, very much, that they were alone together.
As she pulled away after a few seconds, leaving Harry dazed and turned on in her wake, she turned to Bridget.
“I know.”
She took Harry’s hand, laced their fingers, and said to a still laughing Ron, “Shall we?”
They left the restaurant, hand in hand, the gasps and shrieks of the hen party echoing as they stepped back outside.
“That was,” Ron gasped, in between bursts of laughter, “the best fucking thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to tell George.”
Harry groaned. “Glad you enjoyed yourself. I’m traumatized, I’ll have you know. I may never recover.”
“You lived through years of Voldemort trying to kill you, but a bunch of drunk birds is finally too much? Mate, you need to get yourself sorted.”
“I’m happy to help you get sorted, Harry,” said Ginny, with a wink.
“I’ll bet you are,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “You might as well have pissed on him in front of the table back there.”
Ginny wrinkled her nose at Ron. “Lovely.”
“What, it’s true! Haven’t seen you that bent out of shape since Cho Chang,” Ron said, as Ginny glared at him, her eyes glinting dangerously in the dim lamplight of the Alley.
“It was strange, though,” Harry said slowly. “I mean, they didn’t even recognize me without my glasses, and they still-“ he was cut off by Ginny and Ron’s laughter.
“Mate, girls have been throwing themselves at you since sixth year, and you’re surprised?”
“Yeah, but I mean, that was just because I’m Harry Potter. The Chosen One rubbish and all.”
Ginny reached up and ruffled his hair. “Oh sweetheart, you’re adorable. You’ve no idea how fanciable you are, do you?” She grinned wickedly. “And just imagine if they knew how good you are in bed.”
“Ugh, Ginny! For fuck’s sake, I don’t want to hear this!”
“Serves you right for laughing at me,” Harry said, jabbing his finger at Ron in jest, cheeks reddening again but secretly pleased by Ginny’s praise. “Some best mate you are.”
“I’ll take the earrings back to the Ministry, how’s that? Hermione’s working late tonight anyhow, I’ll convince her to go home after I turn them in.”
“Thanks, mate,” Harry said, relieved that the most humiliating day of his career was finally coming to a close.
With a wave, Ron disapparated, leaving Harry and Ginny alone in the street.
“Well,” Ginny said, turning to Harry, her eyes blazing as she ran her hands over his chest, “Let’s get you home then, alright? See if we can’t sort out all that trauma.”
He drew her to him, hugging her as he kissed her sweet smelling hair. He pulled back and grinned down at her. “You know, I’ve got lots of trauma to work through tonight. So much. Might take all night.”
In response, she laughed, his favorite sound in the world. He held out his arm and she took it, then he spun on the spot, taking her home.