day in the life [harri]

His mam was out of Floo powder and Seamus hadn’t been home long enough that he wanted to refuse her every request, and he had a day off today while Aberforth was minding the bar his own damn self, which Seamus was sure he was only doing to prove that he still could. And it’d been ages since he’d been in Diagon Alley, at least a year, and it was kind of weird to be back here. The world was so stagnant in Diagon Alley, everything so similar to the way it’d been back whenever it was in 2001 that he’d come for a day.

And, naturally, since it was his day off and he had a real job now (well, mostly real) and it’d been ages since he’d been here, he was going to loiter here for as long as he could and spend his money, maybe get himself lunch, or coffee, or something useless from Weasley’s.

Lunch first; he bought a sandwich and a butterbeer at a cafe near the bank and wandered down the street, looking for a nice bench or something.

It had been a year since Seamus had been in Diagon Alley like this, and he was nervous to run into anybody he’d known. Nervous that anybody might ask him where he’d been for the last year, and more nervous to talk to someone and realise they hadn’t noticed. But he was determined, with less enthusiasm every day, to change his ways.

It was lunchtime for half of Diagon Alley, it seemed, and the tables outside most of the cafes were occupied. Seamus looked around first for an empty table— no luck. He looked around again for someone sitting alone who seemed like they’d ignore him, and happened on something almost as good: someone sitting alone who he recognised.

He and @Angharad Hughes hadn’t been the best of friends or anything, but they’d been in the DA together, and Seamus, since the war, felt a little more comfortable with other DA members than with anybody else. She was sitting alone, with a coffee and a Danish; Seamus made his lonely way over to her table and cleared his throat awkwardly to get her attention, pointing with the hand not carrying his sandwich bag and butterbeer down at the chair opposite her: “D’you mind?”

Merlin, what a day. Angharad had thought the summer months would be the busiest for her ‘department’ (read: team of two), but she had been wrong. Perhaps it wasn’t so much the number of customers they’d had this morning, but rather the character of them. It seemed that people were in a mild panic over the growing tensions across Europe, because they were changing currencies left and right, hedging their bets on where their investments would lose the least value (or potentially gain value, she supposed).

The moment she’d been relieved for her lunch break she’d wrapped up in her coat and headed out into the Alley. She didn’t often eat in the office. She lived only five minutes away so she could easily go home and have a proper lunch, fresh from her fridge. Occasionally she got side-tracked on her way, opting for something decidedly more delicious. Today, she felt like she deserved it. She ordered a coffee and an apricot Danish, and took them outside to a table.

She took a sip of her coffee first, a mocha, licked her lips clean of the froth, then picked up her lunch. Snack. Fine, it was a sweet and she knew it wasn’t a proper lunch, but she’d eat something decent at dinner time. As she sunk her teeth in her eyes closed softly, relishing her me time before she had to go back to work.

”D’you mind?”

Harri stopped mid-bite, slowly opening her eyes to look up at the man who’d addressed her. “Mm!” she mumbled out as she pulled the pastry away from her lips, setting it down on the plate and covering her mouth with her hand, nodding and trying to chew and swallow as quickly as possible while flapping her free hand around a little in a what she thought conveyed ‘please, sit’. She recognised him instantly, even though it had been... years.

“Seamus!” she got out finally, the hand that had been over her mouth still raised in a polite attempt to half-cover her last few chews. “No, go ahead,” she smiled. “Wow, I haven’t seen you since—” she stopped suddenly, not really wanting to bring that up. “How are you? What are you doing now?”

There was a lot unspoken in that since and he couldn't tell whether she meant a since that was about herself, or him. Seamus couldn’t remember when he’d seen her, last, so he couldn’t have said. Since the Battle, maybe, or since whenever she’d last been to a DA meet— he couldn’t say he had ever looked for her at one of those— or since he’d been in America. Whichever it was, though, it’d been a good long time; he was almost surprised she recognised him, even though he knew that was irrational.

(It sounded vain, but who wouldn’t? Seamus was fairly sure he played a role in plenty of people’s traumatizing Hogwarts memories.)

“I’m good!” he said, using one hand to pull the chair out; it made a hideous scraping sound on the concrete, and he tried to more carefully wobble the chair back. Harri was flapping her hands at him; he couldn’t help but grin at her. (Probably, the better course of action had been to wait until she wasn’t chewing to say hi. Too late.)

“I’m actually working at the Hog’s Head,” he added, to her second question. “Ab says I’m not crabby enough, though.” This was the same crap he’d been telling everyone who asked about his job; he was glad it didn’t get old. Not yet, at least. He popped open his butterbeer and took a quick sip, scratched at the side of his head and propped his elbows up on the table to appraise her. She was right— it’d been a while since, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to her.

“How ‘bout you?” he said, and gestured vaguely out at the street, then dropping his hands back to the table to unwrap his sandwich. “You work near here, or are you visiting?”

Dean worked near here; Seamus remembered suddenly. He thought for about a split second that he should visit before he thought better of it. Tattoo artists probably didn't take normal breaks, anyway.

To give him a chance to respond, and because she had really been looking forward to that Danish, Harri picked it back up and took a decidedly smaller bite than when she had been dining alone. She nodded along with him. “Good,” she repeated, still chewing behind her hand-shield.

“Oh,” she said, then realised how unenthusiastic that had sounded – as if she might have a much better job than he and was looking down upon him. She smiled perhaps a little too exuberantly at his follow up comment to try and make up for it. “Well, maybe you need to work on your customer service, bring it down a peg or two.” Her lips curled up at one end, then the other as she let a grin win through. If she’d been asked to guess what he did for a living, Harri likely wouldn’t have guessed bartending at the Hog’s Head – but she didn’t know what she would have guessed, either. “I haven’t been to Hogsmeade in ages,” she said wistfully, thinking back to January, and Lucas. Maybe that was why.

She blinked, as though surprised he would want to know anything about her. Then again, Seamus had always been well-mannered, in the very few interactions they’d had. “Yeah, I’m alright – I mean, I’m good.” She smiled again, politely. “At Gringotts, but just in the currency exchange. Muggles. Pounds…” she trailed off, as if that explained her role sufficiently.

“I was at Weasley’s,” she volunteered, feeling like she needed to contribute to the conversation and that she needed to offer some tangible link between them other than Dumbledore’s Army, “but this came up and…” she didn’t want to admit that it had seemed like a more adult job – that she was less embarrassed to work for Gringotts than in a shop. It sounded ungrateful, given that Ron and George had given her a chance before the law had changed in her favour.

“Have you been at the Hog’s Head long?” she asked – Danish demolished – brushing her hands together to rid them of flakes of pastry before picking up her mocha. “D’you live up there too?”

It’d been a pretty lame joke, so he was grateful that she still seemed amused. She seemed a bit sorry not to have been back to Hogsmeade, which made Seamus think about whether he’d missed it. He’d been there for a job, not to sightsee or wander like he was still some student— but it’d been nice to be back, he knew. “Yeah,” he said. “It was my first time back since, I dunno, ‘99? I definitely steered clear for a while.”

He didn’t want to elaborate, so he didn’t.

“Oh, oh,” he said— currency exchange. “Had to get a load of money swapped over, bit ago. D’you like it?” He didn’t want to say what he was thinking— that it sounded unbearably dull— but it did. As he lifted his sandwich to gauge whether it was too well-stuffed to attempt to eat in front of a girl, he reminded himself firmly that not everybody lacked the resolve to do boring jobs and not everybody just quit their jobs when they got sick of them.

And the sandwich was just pushing the limits, but he could do it if he tried; he took a big bite, then chewed as quickly as he could, swallowed a bit too fast, and said, his chest aching slightly, “Oh, Weasley’s Wheezes or whatever? I thought about applying there, it’s— you know, I have connections. But I dunno, I’ve worked in shops before…”

He’d wanted to go on about why he didn’t like shops, but that wouldn’t impress her at all— most of his complaints were petty, like “they’re boring” or “they get too dusty too fast” or “they’re a pain to clean.” He had another bite of his sandwich instead, chewing a bit more carefully this time and said, in answer to her question, “Nah, just about a month? Three weeks? Bit after school started— that’s been fun, the students.” And, “Nah— I’m still living at home, for now. Saves money.”

Angharad nodded, her eyes downcast as she thought over his choice of words. He’d steered clear, which sounded a lot more intentional than simply having no reason to visit. She could understand that, could understand why many people around their age may never want to go to Hogsmeade again after everything that had happened. Harri was in the rather unique position of being more scared of her childhood home than of the place where many of her peers had died fighting You-Know-Who. When she had gone back for her seventh and final year at Hogwarts, an entire year behind schedule, several of her new year-mates treated her like she was made of china. Like she’d obviously missed a year because she’d been too traumatised by the Battle to come back. She’d allowed them to think so – it was preferable to coming up with any other excuse.

Seamus seemed content to leave that part of the conversation behind, and Angharad wasn’t against that idea at all. “Oh, really?” She sat up a little straighter, appeared a little more animated. Opened her mouth to reply and then sort of left it open as she frowned, looking skywards as she tried to figure out did she like it? “Uumm,” she pressed her lips together, smiling at him kind of guiltily. “Not.. not really,” she admitted, glancing around to check there wasn’t anyone nearby who might dob her in with the Bank. “It’s not really, very exciting or interesting. It pays the bills, you know,” she said. She wasn’t sure how many people loved their job though, in this day and age.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “yeah, exactly.” Connections, obviously. He’d been good friends with Ron in school from what she’d seen, or you know, they hung out. Sometimes. There’d been that little group of them always together. Same as most houses tended to do, really, cliques. “It was a great place to work, like, if you wanted to work in a shop I mean. George and Ron were great—” but she couldn’t tell Seamus why, “—just really, flexible. I felt bad quitting but it just wasn’t… me.” She couldn’t deny the genius behind many of the Weasley products, but there was a definite part of her that had qualms with selling prank items to students and little kids, especially the kind that got you out of lessons and things like that. Mm.

The blonde took a long sip of her mocha and licked her lips, listening to him attentively.  “Oh, wow. Not long at all.” Another understanding nod. “Yeah, I did that up until earlier this year. Was just…” unable to afford moving out, unable to live with someone without divulging her ‘condition’, unable to do so many things, “didn’t have the money. Even now I don’t… really,” she smiled awkwardly, “but I couldn’t live with my mum any more.” Was that whinging too much? It felt like it. “What were you doing before? Like four weeks ago or whatever.”

“Yeah, I did,” he said, a bit grateful to have literally anything to say about money changing. “I had a lot of American money I had to change in.” And, thank God, she didn’t seem at all like she’d be offended if he said what he’d first thought to say— “Wow, I was just gonna say, that sounds just unbearable. So boring, working with money all day.” He had not done that yet, he was happy to say.

He had half a mind to ask her more about Weasley’s— not that he was planning on quitting at the Hog’s Head anytime soon, while he was trying to turn a new leaf and not be the depressive lump he’d been leading up to America, but it’d be nice to have options, right?— but he didn’t want to bore her, and he’d just said he couldn’t stand shops. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Been trying for a while to find a job that’s me though, it isn’t turning out so well. Don’t reckon jobs are made for us.”

Not “us” the two of them, specifically, though he supposed that it was true enough. He’d never had a job that made him happy— that’d been half of the struggle, after the war, finding one he could keep. His parents seemed to at least sort of like theirs, and obviously everyone on the radio or whatever had too. And then Seamus, coming fresh out of a war, had wanted something that made him feel like it’d all been worth it— it’d sort of been doomed from the start, back then.

She’d lived at home too, for at least a while, which made him feel a bit better. “Thinking about moving back out,” he added, “Eventually, I mean. But I’m saving up for it first.” He grinned slightly— “Yeah, love my mam, really, but she’s a lot, after a few months. That’s why I was in America.”

What’d he been doing four weeks ago, was another question— “Looking,” he said honestly. “And, before that— I was in America like, a year, did warehouse stuff. Pretty boring— like the coin exchange, I reckon. Paid the bills, but…”

He trailed off, thought about Harri and her boring job. “You still looking?” he said, a little too abruptly. “I mean— if you don’t like it, you know, there’ll be something else somewhere. Doesn’t hurt to keep an eye out, you know?”

Harri laughed. “Yeah, so boring. Wouldn’t be so bad if it had been my money,” she joked, then realised that sounded an awful lot like money was all she cared about. It wasn’t, obviously, but she hoped Seamus didn’t interpret her comment the wrong way. Money wasn’t the most important thing, but it tended to feel like it was when you were struggling to make ends meet. Angharad had been fortunate to find an affordable flat with someone she got on really well with (which, in all honesty, had been a surprise in itself), and she ought to be grateful for that – but it was easy to want more.

She grinned, nodding along. “Same, I just— it’s so hard to find something that feels… right.” Harder still when your options were limited by being a werewolf, but she couldn’t complain about that to Seamus. “Hopefully one day I’ll walk in somewhere and just, like, know. Not want to pull my hair out or fall asleep on the job.” She smiled, folded her hands together, fiddling. “I’d love to be one of those people who loves their job, you know?” She knew, thanks to Taran, that even Quidditch players didn’t love their job all the time, but she’d take loving what she did at least some of the time.

Her grin found its way back to her lips and grew wider. “Yeah, I think all mum’s are.” She picked her drink back up and took another sip. “Better to find your feet before you move too, I guess,” she said, trying to… well, reassure him, maybe. Harri had sort of just, moved as soon as she’d been able – minimal research into where, which was probably why she’d ended up in Diagon Alley because she knew nothing about the rest of London, or any of the other magical communities around Britain. More jobs in London, more things to do – but more expensive, and in its own way it was lonelier despite all the people.

“What was it like? America, I mean, not… the warehouse and whatever.” It wasn’t somewhere Angharad had ever thought to visit, but then she’d never planned to visit anywhere until she’d gone to Australia after Christmas and now she felt like there was a whole world waiting to be seen and experienced – if only she had the funds to support that lifestyle without bludging off of her cousins.

She sat back up straighter, caught a little off-guard by the question. “Oh, um,” she frowned, then shrugged, “yeah, I think so. I hadn’t… hadn’t been looking looking but, I think I will.” She nodded, more firmly. “This isn’t what I want to do, even if it pays the bills.” She glanced at him, “What about you?”