Friends buy you lunch.
Note: this scene takes place in April of last year, following Harry’s run-in with Mira’s gentleman caller at the Ministry. Sorry for super long delay!
Blaise Zabini had been freed from the MLE holding cells less than twenty-four hours after he’d been put into them. His barrister had worked quickly, as Harry’d assumed he would. Bail wasn’t a problem, and other than an order to stay in Britain and a brewing prohibition, the man was free to go until the trial.
Harry hoped that since the news had already broken and Zabini’s picture was plastered all over every paper in the wizarding world, it would keep the man’s flight risk at a minimum. His vaults at Gringotts were sealed until the trial, and Hannah’s bakery was here. He needed to work on his defense and it would be hard to explain if he disappeared before being given a chance to clear his name.
The evidence against the brewer was strong, Harry had made sure of that, but it would be naive to think Zabini wouldn’t find some angle to work. Regardless, the case that Harry had been working on was in the hand of barristers and no longer fell to him. Until the trial began and he was called to testify and prove the validity of his evidence, the case he’d been primarily focusing on for months was on hold.
Still filled with adrenaline and tension from it all, Harry found himself wanting a release of some kind, an escape from the weight of the MLE and a change in scenery. That was exactly why he was heading to Floor 7 and the Committee for Experimental Charms to see if Mira was free for lunch.
Thinking to the last time he’d seen her made his lips thin slightly. He didn’t particularly enjoy the memory of another man coming to fetch her for lunch, especially when it appeared she’d been on her way to see him. He’d have come to visit sooner after that, but the potions trafficking case had seemed to snowball all at once, and before he knew it an entire month had passed by. Now that he had the time, though, he was going to do his best to make sure this much time did not pass between them seeing each other again. He loved Aaron, but his new assistant was nothing like his last, and he simply missed seeing Mira every day.
Harry smiled at the charms committee receptionist as he approached, pushing his sleeves up on his forearms. It’d been unseasonably warm the past week and it appeared the maintenance workers had forgotten to adjust the temperature in the building to match. That was his logic, anyway, for why he felt hot and his palms were a bit damp.
“Hello. Is Mira Montgomery in?”
The young blonde woman smiled prettily at him. “She is, Mr. Potter. I believe she’s taking lunch in her office, but you’re more than welcome to pop in.”
“Thanks,” Harry said, slighty annoyed now that he hadn’t owled her first. It was entirely possible she’d already eaten. It’d be awkward if she just came along and watched him eat. The fleeting idea he could leave now and they could get together later in the week ran through his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. He’d been looking forward to coming up to Floor 7 all morning.
He didn’t want to wait until later to see her.
His knuckles rapped quickly on the glass as his gaze swept the cubicles outside her office.
“Come in,” she called absently.
Mira didn’t lift her gaze from the ancient tome in front of her. The text was handwritten and she was hunched over it, blue eyes following her index finger as she painstakingly deciphered the Latin. This was simultaneously her favorite and least favorite kind of research. Favorite, for the challenge it presented (and the fact that it gave her access to some of the Ministry’s restricted books in the archives), and least favorite because it was such a plodding endeavor. It took a lot of time, and often she didn’t find what she was looking for.
She looked busy, hadn’t even glanced up to see who had knocked. Harry took advantage and allowed his gaze to take her in. The blouse she wore was feminine and fell softly around her arms. Her hair fell in waves around her face and blocked it from sight. She was bent over some large book, no doubt hunting down something that was eluding her. Harry had seen her look the same many times before, but something was different this time.
Or, at least, the feelings of seeing her were different somehow.
He thought about leaning against the door and even made the move to do so when he realized how utterly stupid he’d look. He caught himself on the wood, his internal conscious berating him loudly, then took a step further into the room. “If I started saying random numbers, would you lose your place?”
"Random numbers?" Mira echoed as she forced her gaze away from the text.
Her mind was still saturated with what she'd been reading and she blinked at Harry once before recognition lit her features and she smiled. She ignored the flutter of her pulse and the warmth suffusing her skin at being caught unaware. "I suppose that would work," she finally answered him, "though evidence supports that asking random questions is just as effective."
Harry’s lips turned upward in response to her smile, green eyes seemingly brighter behind his glasses as he gazed at her. “I’m not interrupting, am I? You had that special look on your face when you’re completely focused on something and it’s not cooperating with you. Part frustration and part resolve.”
“That sounds about right,” she said as she pushed away from her desk. “Latin tends to inspire frustration in a person, and being that I’m particularly stubborn, definitely resolve, too.” An impish smile touched her lips. “A bit too much resolve, really. I don’t think I’ve moved in hours.”
“Well then that kind of makes me your hero in this case,” he said with a wider grin, “here to rescue you from the infernal Latin and threat of back pain by taking you out for the lunch we never got to have. If you’ve got an hour or so to grab something, that is. I’ll admit I’m not sure if I rate above a hunched day spent sweating over Latin conjugations...”
“If you’re doubting whether you’re more attractive than an ancient, boring text, then I think we’ve bigger things to worry about,” she said, smile reaching her eyes.
“And speaking of your hero complex,” she said as she retrieved her handbag, “I expect to see your cape soon. I hear all heroes have a cape.” Her brows drew together slightly as she came up to him in the doorway. “At least that’s what the Muggle comic books indicate? I read some from the special archive in the London Library a few summers ago when I was researching for a class, and it seemed as if many wore capes. And had a very odd partiality toward fitted polyester unitards.”
“I’m not sure if a cape would work in this case. I’m fairly certain if I flounced around the Ministry with a cape they’d throw me in St. Mungo’s and I’d have a bed next to Gilderoy Lockhart,” he said with a smile.
Mira laughed at that; he was probably right. If she had a difficult time understanding Muggle pop culture - a pureblood witch who was interested in such things and had made an effort to immerse herself to a certain extent - than the average wizard and witch would be much less forgiving.
Harry turned from her office and toward the exit of the department, feeling Mira’s warmth as she walked beside him. “I only read a few comics. Whenever Dudley was forced to clean his room he’d throw the latest ones out and if I moved quick enough, I’d grab them from the rubbish bin before they were gone.”
His smile lessened a bit at the memory of Privet Drive and his cousin. It had been almost two years since Dudley had been killed and though it still hurt, Harry had started to realize that drowning in the sorrow of lives lost in the war was useless. The only thing he could do was find the people responsible and see them receive justice.
Mira felt the dampening of Harry’s mood, and a quick glance confirmed the loss of his smile. She knew his upbringing had been anything but easy, and from the few conversations they’d had over the years about losing loved ones, she’d learned that Harry regretted the loss of his cousin. She wanted to slip her hand in his to offer a bit of support, but doing so in the Ministry while they waited for the lift didn’t seem the best place. The fact that the very idea made her cheeks tint pink was probably another reason to refrain.
He was still her friend though, and so she stepped a bit closer to slip her hand around his bicep and squeezed gently to try and give him some comfort anyway. She kept her tone light when she asked, “did he have very good taste? I read a fair bit myself and was quite enamored with a character the Muggles call the Batman.”
Harry felt Mira’s fingers squeeze his arm, her gesture making his lips turn up a bit more. She was pressed along the side of his body as they queued for the lift and he caught the light scent of her shampoo. He took a deep breath of it into his lungs and tried to remember the superheroes Dudley preferred.
“I think he liked the Flash more than anyone else. Mostly because he enjoyed the idea of being able to run quickly. He wasn’t very quick on his feet, but that’s the point of comics and superheroes, isn’t it? Seeing something in someone that you wished you had in yourself.”
As they moved into the lift, he took up a spot at the back. On the surface it was so more people could pile in, since it was lunchtime and plenty of people were making their way to the Atrium; the other reason was so he could keep a careful eye on the rest of the car’s occupants.
“I never had a favorite character. I just liked the overarching idea of someone doing something about the darkness in the world. Sometimes it didn’t always work, but even attempting to do so was enough. They didn’t shy away from the dark parts, either. In one issue the hero’s girlfriend is killed and he blames himself because had he never put on the suit she’d still be alive. People like to write comics off as just drawings, but I found them much more than that.”
Realizing he’d spent their entire ride in the lift talking about comic books he’d read when he was a kid made him look over at Mira with apologetic eyes. “Sorry. Probably not the conversation you’d expected to have while making your way to the atrium.”
“And who else would I talk about comic book heroes with?” she asked wryly as they queued into the foot traffic in the Atrium. Mira felt eyes glance their way, linger a moment, and she blushed again as she became more aware of why their eyes lingered; she promptly let go of his arm.
Brushing off her internal fluster, she glanced up at him and added, “I found that the Muggle comic books were much like The Tales of the Beetle and the Bard. They’re both meant for children, at least as far as the trappings are concerned, but both tell stories that are much deeper than their covers might indicate. I always liked the Batman because he was just a regular man who tried to do good in the world. He didn’t have a special power, or a wand. He had conviction and passion, and determination to see it all through to the end.”
Mira slowed, unsure of where they were headed, and glanced up at Harry in question.
Hermione had told him time and again that he should have read Beetle and the Bard, especially as it had played a big part in the fact that he hadn’t died when he was seventeen and on the search for Horcruxes. He’d never gotten around to picking it up. Ron had told him a few of the stories, but they were the same kind of tales he’d heard in primary school.
“Dudley didn’t like Batman very much. He wasn’t ‘special’. He didn’t have any ‘powers’ and, therefore, wasn’t really a superhero. It’s funny, really, considering how much he poked at me when he found out I was a wizard. I finally had the ‘powers’ he’d always idolized in the comics, but when faced with it he wasn’t as happy with the reality.”
The thoughts of his cousin had taken his mind from the task at hand, but as they neared the apparation point, Harry focused. “I didn’t have anything elaborate planned. Are you fine with just sandwiches and crisps?”
“Of course,” she murmured.
Mira eyed him speculatively as he led them through the crowd. She’d deliberately taken pains not to study him when he’d arrived in her office because seeing him leaning in the doorway had made her heart flutter, but now she didn’t refrain. There was a bluish tint beneath his eyes, and his coloring was more pale than normal. He looked tired. Stressed.
Brows furrowed as she tried to think what might have happened; Mira didn’t always keep up with the happenings in the MLE, especially when she was as deep into research as she’d been the last few months, and she only caught the headlines every now and then when she wasn’t working on something or the other for her various charms reviews, or other work. As Harry ushered her into the open grate, his hand on her back was slightly distracting for it’s warmth, but concern tinted her features.
The pull of apparation stole her focus, but when they arrived Mira was only aware of the surroundings so far as noting it was quieter. She was focused solely on Harry, brow slightly furrowed. “When’s the last time you took a day off?”
Turning from the row of houses in front of them to glance at Mira, the seriousness of her voice and mien drawing his focus, Harry couldn’t help the confused look that crossed his face. “A day off?”
Harry gave the question some thought, actually trying to remember the last time he stayed away from the Ministry for a full twenty-four hours. Thinking hard, he couldn’t remember. “I’m not sure,” he answered honestly. “At least a few months.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s entirely unacceptable. You’re the head of the department, on active duty, and you’ve obviously got something else going on because you look even more strained than normal. Part of your job, mister,” she said, emphasizing her words with a poke at his chest, “is to take care of yourself. That means sleeping in your own bed,” poke, “eating regular, nutritious meals,” poke, “and doing at least a few things because you want to, not because you need to.” Poke, poke.
Grinning at the tenacity in her words, Harry wrapped his hand around the finger she was using to abuse his chest. "I'm sure there are many things I should be doing, but I seem to be pretty bad at taking care of myself. At least I made it out for lunch today, right? Baby steps."
Harry reached into his pocket, pulling out a small bit of parchment before handing it to Mira. "Memorize that address. Never say it aloud. Then burn it." His eyebrows raised in a mock ominous expression before he smiled and turned back to face the rowhouses.
Mira frowned at him and stuck her tongue out at the back of his head, but looked down at the coordinates he’d given her and committed them to memory. She tucked the parchment in her pocket for now though, and stepped up next to Harry to look at the line of Muggle homes before them. “So. What am I looking for? And where do those coordinates go?”
“Just watch,” Harry replied, pointing to the houses in front of them.
Mira watched. Nothing happened.
She opened her mouth to ask what she was supposed to be watching when a groaning sound made her jaw snap shut, and her eyes widened as she watched the building split. Literally split. Less than a minute later the building was whole again, like nothing at all had happened.
Mira stepped forward to examine the seam between the row houses, wonder writ on her face. She was a witch, and working in charms had seen a lot of amazing things, but she’d never quite seen something quite like this. “I want to learn to weave charms and spells that can do that,” she breathed as she tried to spy some of the glow of magic in the corner of her eyes.
Harry had watched Mira’s face as 13 Grimmaud Place appeared before them, pushing the other buildings to make room. He’d gotten used to the bit of magic over the years, but it was like it was new again as the wonder danced over her features.
“I couldn’t tell you how many charms are on the house, I’ve only been told it has every protective charm ever. Now that you know where it is, you’re a secret keeper.”
“I’m sure they’re recorded somewhere,” she said absently as she continued to inspect the magic she could just make out in the corner of her vision. It was difficult to examine without the proper equipment though, as one’s eyes tired quickly this way, and she pulled away moments later. “There’s always a record of how the wards are set and improved upon in case something breaks, or goes wrong, or just to make sure the charms and spells don’t react the wrong way when set together, or added upon.”
“But that’s neither here nor there,” she added ruefully. “We’re here for lunch, not for me to go on about proper spell documentation.”
Mira glanced up at the home again, taking in the whole of it rather than trying to spy the magic encasing it, and then back to Harry. “So I’m a secret keeper of … your home?”
“Yeah,” Harry replied with a small shrug of his shoulders, trying to make it appear like less of a deal than it was. However, to him, it was a rather large deal. If people were able to find him at home, the one place he knew he was safe would be taken from him. “There are quite a few at this point. But they’re only people I trust.”
He pushed the door open, illuminating the hallway with a flick of his wand. “Dobby?” The house-elf appeared with a ‘pop’ a second later. “Is lunch ready?”
“Yes,” Dobby answered with a quick nod of his head. “Lunch is in the kitchen on the table for Harry Potter and his friend.”
“Mira. Her name is Mira Montgomery.” Harry turned to smile at Mira. “Mira, this is Dobby. He’s my friend and helps with things around the house.”
Dobby stepped forward, his eyes large and his smile larger as he looked up at Mira. “Dobby is happy that Harry Potter is having a friend over. Harry Potter doesn’t let Dobby help with lunch enough.”
“Now that’s just a shame because Harry Potter doesn’t eat as often as he should, especially given how hard he works,” Mira said with a pointed look at her friend before she bent down and held her hand out to the little elf; Harry didn’t treat him like a servant and neither would she. “It’s really good to meet you, Dobby. I’m glad you’re here to make sure he’s taken care of because he’s not particularly good at doing so himself.”
“Dobby does his best,” the elf answered, putting his slim hand in Mira’s and giving it a small shake. The years of being treated as an equal by Harry had made him a bit more confident when it came to meeting new witches and wizards. “Dobby hopes Miss Mira enjoys the lunch.”
“I’m sure it’ll be delicious,” Harry assured Dobby. He already knew Mira would treat the house elf nicely, but seeing it brought a smile to his face. If he didn’t already know Mira was a good person, the way she was interacting with Dobby would have been enough to figure it out. “I’ve yet to find anyone who makes as good a sandwich as Dobby does.”
“And we’ve had some pretty fantastic sandwiches at several of the delis in London,” Mira said, brows rising as she turned her attention back to the elf. “Yours must be fabulous. I have to say I’m quite excited for lunch now.” She smiled. “Lead on, good sir.”
Harry let Dobby lead Mira down the hall, taking the rear of their three-person party. He smiled to himself as he listened to Dobby prattle on about where he bought the roast beef and the bread. Mira nodded knowingly at the elf with interest, making Harry’s grin grow a bit larger.
Sliding across the wood of the bench on one side of the long table in the kitchen, he felt his stomach rumble at the idea of food. When he was ignoring the fact that he hadn’t eaten, things tended to be fine. When he was very specifically waiting for food, however, his body made it clear that it was not happy with the length of time it’d gone without sustenance.
Mira slid next to Harry on the bench and only when Dobby moved away to collect their food did she look at him and raise a brow. “I heard that,” she said before pointedly looking down toward his stomach and then back up to meet his green eyes.
Harry grinned, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. “If I wasn’t about to eat I’d feel more guilty, but at least I’m getting lunch, yeah? And the company is much improved over the dusty lamp in my office and the pile of requisitions waiting for me.”
“Hmm.” The almost-disapproving hum was the only noise Mira made as she slid her gaze away from Harry and watched Dobby, but the slight curl at the edges of her lips gave away her bemusement.
SUMMARY: Harry and Mira have the lunch that was stolen from them by Mira’s impromptu gentleman caller.
Blaise Zabini had been freed from the MLE holding cells less than twenty-four hours after he’d been put into them. His barrister had worked quickly, as Harry’d assumed he would. Bail wasn’t a problem, and other than an order to stay in Britain and a brewing prohibition, the man was free to go until the trial.
Harry hoped that since the news had already broken and Zabini’s picture was plastered all over every paper in the wizarding world, it would keep the man’s flight risk at a minimum. His vaults at Gringotts were sealed until the trial, and Hannah’s bakery was here. He needed to work on his defense and it would be hard to explain if he disappeared before being given a chance to clear his name.
The evidence against the brewer was strong, Harry had made sure of that, but it would be naive to think Zabini wouldn’t find some angle to work. Regardless, the case that Harry had been working on was in the hand of barristers and no longer fell to him. Until the trial began and he was called to testify and prove the validity of his evidence, the case he’d been primarily focusing on for months was on hold.
Still filled with adrenaline and tension from it all, Harry found himself wanting a release of some kind, an escape from the weight of the MLE and a change in scenery. That was exactly why he was heading to Floor 7 and the Committee for Experimental Charms to see if Mira was free for lunch.
Thinking to the last time he’d seen her made his lips thin slightly. He didn’t particularly enjoy the memory of another man coming to fetch her for lunch, especially when it appeared she’d been on her way to see him. He’d have come to visit sooner after that, but the potions trafficking case had seemed to snowball all at once, and before he knew it an entire month had passed by. Now that he had the time, though, he was going to do his best to make sure this much time did not pass between them seeing each other again. He loved Aaron, but his new assistant was nothing like his last, and he simply missed seeing Mira every day.
Harry smiled at the charms committee receptionist as he approached, pushing his sleeves up on his forearms. It’d been unseasonably warm the past week and it appeared the maintenance workers had forgotten to adjust the temperature in the building to match. That was his logic, anyway, for why he felt hot and his palms were a bit damp.
“Hello. Is Mira Montgomery in?”
The young blonde woman smiled prettily at him. “She is, Mr. Potter. I believe she’s taking lunch in her office, but you’re more than welcome to pop in.”
“Thanks,” Harry said, slighty annoyed now that he hadn’t owled her first. It was entirely possible she’d already eaten. It’d be awkward if she just came along and watched him eat. The fleeting idea he could leave now and they could get together later in the week ran through his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. He’d been looking forward to coming up to Floor 7 all morning.
He didn’t want to wait until later to see her.
His knuckles rapped quickly on the glass as his gaze swept the cubicles outside her office.
“Come in,” she called absently.
Mira didn’t lift her gaze from the ancient tome in front of her. The text was handwritten and she was hunched over it, blue eyes following her index finger as she painstakingly deciphered the Latin. This was simultaneously her favorite and least favorite kind of research. Favorite, for the challenge it presented (and the fact that it gave her access to some of the Ministry’s restricted books in the archives), and least favorite because it was such a plodding endeavor. It took a lot of time, and often she didn’t find what she was looking for.
She looked busy, hadn’t even glanced up to see who had knocked. Harry took advantage and allowed his gaze to take her in. The blouse she wore was feminine and fell softly around her arms. Her hair fell in waves around her face and blocked it from sight. She was bent over some large book, no doubt hunting down something that was eluding her. Harry had seen her look the same many times before, but something was different this time.
Or, at least, the feelings of seeing her were different somehow.
He thought about leaning against the door and even made the move to do so when he realized how utterly stupid he’d look. He caught himself on the wood, his internal conscious berating him loudly, then took a step further into the room. “If I started saying random numbers, would you lose your place?”
"Random numbers?" Mira echoed as she forced her gaze away from the text.
Her mind was still saturated with what she'd been reading and she blinked at Harry once before recognition lit her features and she smiled. She ignored the flutter of her pulse and the warmth suffusing her skin at being caught unaware. "I suppose that would work," she finally answered him, "though evidence supports that asking random questions is just as effective."
Harry’s lips turned upward in response to her smile, green eyes seemingly brighter behind his glasses as he gazed at her. “I’m not interrupting, am I? You had that special look on your face when you’re completely focused on something and it’s not cooperating with you. Part frustration and part resolve.”
“That sounds about right,” she said as she pushed away from her desk. “Latin tends to inspire frustration in a person, and being that I’m particularly stubborn, definitely resolve, too.” An impish smile touched her lips. “A bit too much resolve, really. I don’t think I’ve moved in hours.”
“Well then that kind of makes me your hero in this case,” he said with a wider grin, “here to rescue you from the infernal Latin and threat of back pain by taking you out for the lunch we never got to have. If you’ve got an hour or so to grab something, that is. I’ll admit I’m not sure if I rate above a hunched day spent sweating over Latin conjugations...”
“If you’re doubting whether you’re more attractive than an ancient, boring text, then I think we’ve bigger things to worry about,” she said, smile reaching her eyes.
“And speaking of your hero complex,” she said as she retrieved her handbag, “I expect to see your cape soon. I hear all heroes have a cape.” Her brows drew together slightly as she came up to him in the doorway. “At least that’s what the Muggle comic books indicate? I read some from the special archive in the London Library a few summers ago when I was researching for a class, and it seemed as if many wore capes. And had a very odd partiality toward fitted polyester unitards.”
“I’m not sure if a cape would work in this case. I’m fairly certain if I flounced around the Ministry with a cape they’d throw me in St. Mungo’s and I’d have a bed next to Gilderoy Lockhart,” he said with a smile.
Mira laughed at that; he was probably right. If she had a difficult time understanding Muggle pop culture - a pureblood witch who was interested in such things and had made an effort to immerse herself to a certain extent - than the average wizard and witch would be much less forgiving.
Harry turned from her office and toward the exit of the department, feeling Mira’s warmth as she walked beside him. “I only read a few comics. Whenever Dudley was forced to clean his room he’d throw the latest ones out and if I moved quick enough, I’d grab them from the rubbish bin before they were gone.”
His smile lessened a bit at the memory of Privet Drive and his cousin. It had been almost two years since Dudley had been killed and though it still hurt, Harry had started to realize that drowning in the sorrow of lives lost in the war was useless. The only thing he could do was find the people responsible and see them receive justice.
Mira felt the dampening of Harry’s mood, and a quick glance confirmed the loss of his smile. She knew his upbringing had been anything but easy, and from the few conversations they’d had over the years about losing loved ones, she’d learned that Harry regretted the loss of his cousin. She wanted to slip her hand in his to offer a bit of support, but doing so in the Ministry while they waited for the lift didn’t seem the best place. The fact that the very idea made her cheeks tint pink was probably another reason to refrain.
He was still her friend though, and so she stepped a bit closer to slip her hand around his bicep and squeezed gently to try and give him some comfort anyway. She kept her tone light when she asked, “did he have very good taste? I read a fair bit myself and was quite enamored with a character the Muggles call the Batman.”
Harry felt Mira’s fingers squeeze his arm, her gesture making his lips turn up a bit more. She was pressed along the side of his body as they queued for the lift and he caught the light scent of her shampoo. He took a deep breath of it into his lungs and tried to remember the superheroes Dudley preferred.
“I think he liked the Flash more than anyone else. Mostly because he enjoyed the idea of being able to run quickly. He wasn’t very quick on his feet, but that’s the point of comics and superheroes, isn’t it? Seeing something in someone that you wished you had in yourself.”
As they moved into the lift, he took up a spot at the back. On the surface it was so more people could pile in, since it was lunchtime and plenty of people were making their way to the Atrium; the other reason was so he could keep a careful eye on the rest of the car’s occupants.
“I never had a favorite character. I just liked the overarching idea of someone doing something about the darkness in the world. Sometimes it didn’t always work, but even attempting to do so was enough. They didn’t shy away from the dark parts, either. In one issue the hero’s girlfriend is killed and he blames himself because had he never put on the suit she’d still be alive. People like to write comics off as just drawings, but I found them much more than that.”
Realizing he’d spent their entire ride in the lift talking about comic books he’d read when he was a kid made him look over at Mira with apologetic eyes. “Sorry. Probably not the conversation you’d expected to have while making your way to the atrium.”
“And who else would I talk about comic book heroes with?” she asked wryly as they queued into the foot traffic in the Atrium. Mira felt eyes glance their way, linger a moment, and she blushed again as she became more aware of why their eyes lingered; she promptly let go of his arm.
Brushing off her internal fluster, she glanced up at him and added, “I found that the Muggle comic books were much like The Tales of the Beetle and the Bard. They’re both meant for children, at least as far as the trappings are concerned, but both tell stories that are much deeper than their covers might indicate. I always liked the Batman because he was just a regular man who tried to do good in the world. He didn’t have a special power, or a wand. He had conviction and passion, and determination to see it all through to the end.”
Mira slowed, unsure of where they were headed, and glanced up at Harry in question.
Hermione had told him time and again that he should have read Beetle and the Bard, especially as it had played a big part in the fact that he hadn’t died when he was seventeen and on the search for Horcruxes. He’d never gotten around to picking it up. Ron had told him a few of the stories, but they were the same kind of tales he’d heard in primary school.
“Dudley didn’t like Batman very much. He wasn’t ‘special’. He didn’t have any ‘powers’ and, therefore, wasn’t really a superhero. It’s funny, really, considering how much he poked at me when he found out I was a wizard. I finally had the ‘powers’ he’d always idolized in the comics, but when faced with it he wasn’t as happy with the reality.”
The thoughts of his cousin had taken his mind from the task at hand, but as they neared the apparation point, Harry focused. “I didn’t have anything elaborate planned. Are you fine with just sandwiches and crisps?”
“Of course,” she murmured.
Mira eyed him speculatively as he led them through the crowd. She’d deliberately taken pains not to study him when he’d arrived in her office because seeing him leaning in the doorway had made her heart flutter, but now she didn’t refrain. There was a bluish tint beneath his eyes, and his coloring was more pale than normal. He looked tired. Stressed.
Brows furrowed as she tried to think what might have happened; Mira didn’t always keep up with the happenings in the MLE, especially when she was as deep into research as she’d been the last few months, and she only caught the headlines every now and then when she wasn’t working on something or the other for her various charms reviews, or other work. As Harry ushered her into the open grate, his hand on her back was slightly distracting for it’s warmth, but concern tinted her features.
The pull of apparation stole her focus, but when they arrived Mira was only aware of the surroundings so far as noting it was quieter. She was focused solely on Harry, brow slightly furrowed. “When’s the last time you took a day off?”
Turning from the row of houses in front of them to glance at Mira, the seriousness of her voice and mien drawing his focus, Harry couldn’t help the confused look that crossed his face. “A day off?”
Harry gave the question some thought, actually trying to remember the last time he stayed away from the Ministry for a full twenty-four hours. Thinking hard, he couldn’t remember. “I’m not sure,” he answered honestly. “At least a few months.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s entirely unacceptable. You’re the head of the department, on active duty, and you’ve obviously got something else going on because you look even more strained than normal. Part of your job, mister,” she said, emphasizing her words with a poke at his chest, “is to take care of yourself. That means sleeping in your own bed,” poke, “eating regular, nutritious meals,” poke, “and doing at least a few things because you want to, not because you need to.” Poke, poke.
Grinning at the tenacity in her words, Harry wrapped his hand around the finger she was using to abuse his chest. "I'm sure there are many things I should be doing, but I seem to be pretty bad at taking care of myself. At least I made it out for lunch today, right? Baby steps."
Harry reached into his pocket, pulling out a small bit of parchment before handing it to Mira. "Memorize that address. Never say it aloud. Then burn it." His eyebrows raised in a mock ominous expression before he smiled and turned back to face the rowhouses.
Mira frowned at him and stuck her tongue out at the back of his head, but looked down at the coordinates he’d given her and committed them to memory. She tucked the parchment in her pocket for now though, and stepped up next to Harry to look at the line of Muggle homes before them. “So. What am I looking for? And where do those coordinates go?”
“Just watch,” Harry replied, pointing to the houses in front of them.
Mira watched. Nothing happened.
She opened her mouth to ask what she was supposed to be watching when a groaning sound made her jaw snap shut, and her eyes widened as she watched the building split. Literally split. Less than a minute later the building was whole again, like nothing at all had happened.
Mira stepped forward to examine the seam between the row houses, wonder writ on her face. She was a witch, and working in charms had seen a lot of amazing things, but she’d never quite seen something quite like this. “I want to learn to weave charms and spells that can do that,” she breathed as she tried to spy some of the glow of magic in the corner of her eyes.
Harry had watched Mira’s face as 13 Grimmaud Place appeared before them, pushing the other buildings to make room. He’d gotten used to the bit of magic over the years, but it was like it was new again as the wonder danced over her features.
“I couldn’t tell you how many charms are on the house, I’ve only been told it has every protective charm ever. Now that you know where it is, you’re a secret keeper.”
“I’m sure they’re recorded somewhere,” she said absently as she continued to inspect the magic she could just make out in the corner of her vision. It was difficult to examine without the proper equipment though, as one’s eyes tired quickly this way, and she pulled away moments later. “There’s always a record of how the wards are set and improved upon in case something breaks, or goes wrong, or just to make sure the charms and spells don’t react the wrong way when set together, or added upon.”
“But that’s neither here nor there,” she added ruefully. “We’re here for lunch, not for me to go on about proper spell documentation.”
Mira glanced up at the home again, taking in the whole of it rather than trying to spy the magic encasing it, and then back to Harry. “So I’m a secret keeper of … your home?”
“Yeah,” Harry replied with a small shrug of his shoulders, trying to make it appear like less of a deal than it was. However, to him, it was a rather large deal. If people were able to find him at home, the one place he knew he was safe would be taken from him. “There are quite a few at this point. But they’re only people I trust.”
He pushed the door open, illuminating the hallway with a flick of his wand. “Dobby?” The house-elf appeared with a ‘pop’ a second later. “Is lunch ready?”
“Yes,” Dobby answered with a quick nod of his head. “Lunch is in the kitchen on the table for Harry Potter and his friend.”
“Mira. Her name is Mira Montgomery.” Harry turned to smile at Mira. “Mira, this is Dobby. He’s my friend and helps with things around the house.”
Dobby stepped forward, his eyes large and his smile larger as he looked up at Mira. “Dobby is happy that Harry Potter is having a friend over. Harry Potter doesn’t let Dobby help with lunch enough.”
“Now that’s just a shame because Harry Potter doesn’t eat as often as he should, especially given how hard he works,” Mira said with a pointed look at her friend before she bent down and held her hand out to the little elf; Harry didn’t treat him like a servant and neither would she. “It’s really good to meet you, Dobby. I’m glad you’re here to make sure he’s taken care of because he’s not particularly good at doing so himself.”
“Dobby does his best,” the elf answered, putting his slim hand in Mira’s and giving it a small shake. The years of being treated as an equal by Harry had made him a bit more confident when it came to meeting new witches and wizards. “Dobby hopes Miss Mira enjoys the lunch.”
“I’m sure it’ll be delicious,” Harry assured Dobby. He already knew Mira would treat the house elf nicely, but seeing it brought a smile to his face. If he didn’t already know Mira was a good person, the way she was interacting with Dobby would have been enough to figure it out. “I’ve yet to find anyone who makes as good a sandwich as Dobby does.”
“And we’ve had some pretty fantastic sandwiches at several of the delis in London,” Mira said, brows rising as she turned her attention back to the elf. “Yours must be fabulous. I have to say I’m quite excited for lunch now.” She smiled. “Lead on, good sir.”
Harry let Dobby lead Mira down the hall, taking the rear of their three-person party. He smiled to himself as he listened to Dobby prattle on about where he bought the roast beef and the bread. Mira nodded knowingly at the elf with interest, making Harry’s grin grow a bit larger.
Sliding across the wood of the bench on one side of the long table in the kitchen, he felt his stomach rumble at the idea of food. When he was ignoring the fact that he hadn’t eaten, things tended to be fine. When he was very specifically waiting for food, however, his body made it clear that it was not happy with the length of time it’d gone without sustenance.
Mira slid next to Harry on the bench and only when Dobby moved away to collect their food did she look at him and raise a brow. “I heard that,” she said before pointedly looking down toward his stomach and then back up to meet his green eyes.
Harry grinned, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. “If I wasn’t about to eat I’d feel more guilty, but at least I’m getting lunch, yeah? And the company is much improved over the dusty lamp in my office and the pile of requisitions waiting for me.”
“Hmm.” The almost-disapproving hum was the only noise Mira made as she slid her gaze away from Harry and watched Dobby, but the slight curl at the edges of her lips gave away her bemusement.
SUMMARY: Harry and Mira have the lunch that was stolen from them by Mira’s impromptu gentleman caller.