The Last Fight

Diagon Alley was in a right state the day after Fortescue was taken. I picked up a Butterbeer from the Leakey Cauldron and there were at least six people in the bar, all muttering in low voices. Sipping the beverage, I entered Diagon Alley to find Ministry wizards crawling all over the ice cream shop.

Kingsley was there, leading up the investigation. Damn, even the Aurors were here? "What's going on?" I asked him, frowning at the wizards who were examining the table that the panther had clawed yesterday.

"Ministry investigation," he said in a soft voice, not looking at me. "The Minister is suspicious of Fortescue going missing. We're seeing if this has any connection to why they took Ollivander."

"Right," I muttered, unsurprised, watching a woman repair the front window of the shop. "I'll be in Flourish and Blotts if anything happens."

"Noted," Kingsley replied, and I walked on down the alley. Mr. Blotts was in a frantic state when I entered.

"Oh, Miss Potter, I wondered... I mean, I was thinking—"

"About down the street? I saw them carry Fortescue off," I said grimly, making my way through a maze of books on the floor.

"Oh." I reached the back counter, but he didn't meet my gaze. "Death Eaters?" he whispered.

"Yes," I confirmed. "Two of them. Though, I'm not exactly sure how they got into the alley, since you can't Apparate in."

"True, true." He seemed to be lost in thought. "Well, as you can see, the shop is a mess..."

"On it," I replied, and went to pick up the strewn books.

-

It was nearly three that afternoon when something mildly interesting happened. We had only had two customers the entire day, and as a result, I was running the shop myself - Blotts had gone upstairs to make himself some tea. I browsed the Defense section, keeping an open ear for the bell tinkling. I had just found a rather interesting looking book - Innovations in Hexes and Jinxes - when the door opened and I heard two sets of footsteps enter. I left the book out where I could find it again later and walked around to the front to greet the customers.

I recognized the man in front at once. It was Dawlish, the Auror - I had just seen him helping to clean up the ice cream parlor this morning. The other was a man who looked somewhat like an old lion with wild hair and keen yellow eyes. I was almost certain from the way he carried himself that this was the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour.

"Hello Minister, Dawlish," I said politely when they noticed me. "Can I help you with anything? If you're looking for Mr. Blotts, he's just upstairs—"

"I'm looking for you," the Minister replied curtly. "Kingsley said you worked here."

"Yeah... I do," I said awkwardly. "How can I be of assistance, Minister?"

"Dawlish, a moment," he said, and Dawlish nodded before stepping just outside the door, looking rather imposing. I frowned. Oh yes, let's make customers even more afraid of shopping. "Miss Potter," he began, looking at the history books that were just over my right shoulder, "you know, as everyone does, what terrible danger the wizarding community is in."

'Well, duh.' "Yes, sir."

"And that it is my duty as Minister of Magic to protect the wizarding community from the ever increasing threat of You-Know-Who," he continued. When I didn't say anything, he sighed. "Let's be frank here, Miss Potter; people in the community look up to you."

"Do they?" I asked, an eyebrow raised. I resisted the temptation to cross my arms, as that seemed rather impolite.

"Yes, they do indeed, as do they find solace in your brother."

“Alright.” This conversation was far removed from what I was expecting. Then again, I didn’t really have a clue what a normal conversation with the Minister would be like.

"And the fact of the matter is if the Ministry were to calm people's fears, then it would make sense for them to ally themselves with people of such... prestige as yourself and your brother."

I nearly rolled my eyes. "What do you want, Minister?"

He shifted a bit nervously now, and refocused on my collarbone. "Merely that you could perhaps be a, ah, spokesperson for the Ministry, to, you see, give people confidence in what we're doing."

"So, you want me as your poster child for success and safety?" I shook my head. "Look, Minister, to let people feel safe would be to put their guard down, yes?"

"Now—"

“If you’re gonna ask for favors, Minister, I suggest you look me in the eye when you do it.”

He finally made eye contact with me, and I frowned at him.

“You know that by putting people’s guard down, you're lulling them into a false sense of security and thereby making them more vulnerable to Voldemort, right?"

His eyes twitched at the name.

"And... is the Ministry even actually doing anything? Because last time I checked, they were slandering myself and my brother, not to mention several of my friends and Dumbledore, all over The Daily Prophet."

"Times have changed, Miss Potter," he said gravely. His lip was upturned in a way that reminded me of a disgruntled dog.

"And so have I," I replied. I showed him the back of my hand, which still read in white letters, ‘I must not question authority.’ "Sorry Minister, but I question your authority."

He merely sighed. "Your brother gave me a very similar response."

"Good." I set my jaw. "Now Minister, unless you have some books to buy, I must ask you to let me get back to my duties. The Transfiguration section is in a terrible state."

He gave me a calculating look, but must have decided I wasn't worth fighting with, because he just nodded and said, "Good day to you, Miss Potter."

"Good day, Minister."

-

The jangling of the doorknob was unexpected at seven at night. “Hang on!” I yelled, frantically trying to finish frosting the still warm cake. Large crumbs of the cake were pulling off with the icing, and the result was chunky at best. “Don’t come in yet!”

I heard Cedric grumble, but I finished the last edge of the cake and sent the spatula in the sink. I set the cake on the far counter best hidden from the front door and went to let him in, wiping frosting and flour on my apron. I unlocked the door to find him waiting for me, brooding, but he smiled when he saw me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to change, I wasn’t expecting you this soon—”

He stepped through the door and pulled me into a hug.

“—I had an outfit laid out and everything, I just got home late, and—” He kissed me to silence me, and I muttered into his lips, “Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks.” He looked at my apron and chuckled. “And this outfit is just fine.”

“Okay then. Close your eyes.” He sighed and did as he was told. I took his briefcase from him, took his cloak off, and led him into the kitchen. I left him, picked up the cake, and said, “Open ‘em.”

The grin that split his face made my heart jump.

“Jen, you… wow, you didn’t need to—”

“Of course I did, you idiot,” I teased. “Do you want some now?”

“Absolutely.”

I cut the cake and handed him a large slab of vanilla, raspberry and chocolate goodness. He bit in, closing his eyes and moaning.

“How is this so good?”

“Because I’m good at following directions.”

“Yeah, okay. I still think you charmed this.”

I smiled and served myself a piece of cake. Cedric ate slowly, enjoying every bite. He seemed to be in a much better mood.

“So, how was work?”

“A nightmare,” he said, setting his fork down. “I, for some reason, was sent to go set the record straight with the Daily Prophet and get them to report on Fortescue’s kidnapping.”

“What? Why?”

“I dunno. Desdemona just sent me down there. Apparently everyone else was too busy.”

He finished his cake.

“What about you?”

“It was really, really slow. I mean, we had two customers all day. But the Minister paid me a visit.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he want?”

“Oh, you know. He wants myself and Harry to be the poster children of the Ministry, to tell people that everything’s fine. Well, obviously Harry told him to bugger off, so he came to me.”

“And?”

“I politely told him to go to hell.”

Cedric snorted. “Jen, you said that to the Minister of Magic?”

“I told him that I didn’t respect his authority, so basically.”

He rolled his eyes, but smiled at me anyways. “You’re actually impossible.”

“Whatever, you love it. Do you want your presents or not?”

“Presents?”

“Yeah. Stay here.”

I ducked into the bedroom and grabbed the wrapped presents from deep inside a drawer in the dresser. I returned to the kitchen and set the packages on the table, handing him the one on top. “This one is from your mum and dad.”

The small package contained several pictures, two letters, and small packets of seeds. He set it all aside to read it later, and opened the next package. He unwrapped books from Jared and Colin, all about fighting dark creatures and defensive magic. He set those aside as well and grabbed the last package.

“You, I assume?”

I just nodded.

“What…? Wow, Jen.”

He pulled the grey cloak out of the wrappings, running his hands over the material.

“I know you wanted a new one, so… I also enchanted it with a bunch of protective spells and counter-curses, and I tried to make it Undetectable but I’m not sure if—”

“It’s great,” he beamed, turning the soft material over and over. “It’s perfect. I love it. I… thank you.”

He leaned over and kissed me, pulling my face close to his, his other hand on my knee. His breath was hot on my neck when he leaned against me to chuckle.

“Well, this wasn’t such a terrible birthday after all. Thank you. Really.”

“Not a problem,” I replied, kissing him again. “Would you like more cake?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”