Disclaimer: I own nothing, except Renee.

"Hey pretty little witch, I need another firewhiskey over here" slurred a disheveled warlock from a back booth in the Leaky Cauldron. Renee Dorian looked exasperatedly over at the man who had been hailing her services for the past 10 minutes. A cluster of glasses sat on the table and the man was sinking lower in the booth every minute. Renee signaled to the barman Tom that this man was officially cutoff and made her way over to firmly inform him that it was about time he left. She approached the man, his head now in his hands, shoulders slumped, he looked the epitome of a downtrodden man.

Renee started to say, "Excuse me sir, but I think it's about time that you were leaving." But only got as far as "Excuse me" before the man looked up at her to reveal tears running down his cheeks from his bloodshot eyes to his unshaven chin. Panicking a little Renee started to retreat again before a huge sob wracked the entire body of the man as he wailed "Whhhhhhhhyyy?!? Why would she leave me?"

Renee was torn between laughing at the situation at hand or crying along with the man from pure exhaustion and exasperation.

"You're a woman right?"

Renee did laugh at this. She was pretty darn sure there was no question as to her gender. Her athletic build was offset and complimented by curves in all the right places. And her shoulder length mocha brown hair and deep blue eyes framed by naturally long lashes were most definitely feminine.

He continued without the obvious answer "Was it so wrong of me to tell her she smelled like my mother? I meant it as a compliment!" His words were broken by shuddering breaths and wails, which soon subsided as he crumpled to the table in a dead sleep. Renee just stood and watched as with each intake of breath his less than delicate snores shook the table, causing the glasses surrounding him to clink and teeter about. Renee looked down at her watch, three hours until the end of her shift.

Nearly a year out of school and Renee was hardly where she had hoped she would be. In the top 10% of her class at Beauxbatons School for Magic it had been expected that, much like her classmates, she would go on to intern and work at the Ministry of Magic, Gringotts Wizarding Bank or , to name just a few of the highly acclaimed places her peers had settled in so easily. It wasn't as though Renee enjoyed being greeted with the stale smell of sweat and cheap alcohol everyday at work and it certainly wasn't as if she didn't have ambitions and dreams. She was lacking in a number of things but a dream was definitely not one of them.

Her parents had sent her to Beauxbatons for her schooling because it had been convenient, located halfway between her father's home with his muggle secretary and their four children in Germany and her mother's extravagant house with her third husband (a famous wizarding actor) in Spain. She was never too close, emotionally or geographically, to either of her self-involved parents. Renee however was content being dumped at the elite, aristocratic school at the age of 11 because she knew that it was home to the most prestigious music school in the entire magical world. Growing up Renee was constantly passed between two parents, neither of which particularly wanted the responsibility for the living mistake that they made when they were young and in lust. They neglected and ignored her in the hopes of forgetting a shameful past. She had only ever felt at home and cared for was during the three blessed months of summer when she was living with her paternal grandmother who had retired to a tiny coastal village in Scotland. In those short sunny months Renee was truly happy. Her grandmother Cherie flooded her with affection, food, and possibly most importantly music. Cherie's extensive and antique record collection provided endless hours of fascination and amusement. The eclectic old lady had a love for everything musical that she gladly passed on to her lonely and abandoned granddaughter.

Cherie imparted every ounce of musical knowledge that she had from reading music to picking out increasingly more complicated tunes on her dusty piano in the attic. On Renee's eleventh birthday her grandmother sent her a beautiful cello that had belonged to her grandfather who had been a promising young player in the London Philharmonic until his death in WWII. Renee fell in love with the rich velvety sound of the instrument and made up her mind to learn all she could. Under the instruction of the Beauxbatons music teacher, Luc Islioux Renee's musical abilities grew and blossomed. By her graduation seven years later Renee's musical talents were unparalleled in the school. Nevertheless when it was made clear that Renee didn't intend to find a "suitable" job, but instead chose to freelance in London until she landed a permanent orchestra position, her aloof classmates looked down on her decision.

"Music is simply not an acceptable career choice. If you continue down this fantasy road of yours, following your so called dreams and passions, you will not be able to count on any support of mine" stated a succinct owl from her mother when she caught wind of her daughter's post graduation plans. Her father while not exactly enthused vaguely remembered his own mother's love of music and could at least somewhat appreciate that his daughter might have some talent as a musician. As a result Renee's father sent her the occasional small sum of money when he remembered he had a starving, struggling musician for a daughter.

However despite all of her aspirations Renee was beginning to lose hope. She had been living in a dingy little apartment with her best friend from school Emma Joviet for the past 9 months, working at the Leaky Cauldron and auditioning for various groups. Occasionally she would land a gig subbing for orchestras or playing in some small ensembles but it wasn't what she really yearned for. While her ultimate goal remained to play in the London Philharmonic the past few weeks she just wanted to find a job that was more satisfying than busing tables and serving drinks. It was around that time that one of the shops on Diagon Alley had gone up for rent and Emma had made the suggestion that Renee open up a music shop. The idea was refreshing and new to Renee and gave her a glimmer of light and hope to strive towards. It suddenly became easy to imagine herself managing a small shop selling the usual muggle musical instruments along with the some musical charms and spells of Renee's own invention. So in lieu of her long term goal, Renee started focusing on the short term goal of saving up her galleons to rent and renovate the small space.

It had become habit for Renee to walk past the windows of the shop that she hoped soon to be hers after a long day of work and stare longingly at the empty shelves, imagining them filled with cds, instruments and sheet music. In the past week however she had been so exhausted that she had just apparated straight home. After today's particularly long ordeal that was ridding the Leaky Cauldron of the sobbing man, Renee needed to go look at what could be in her near future.

As Renee approached the familiar storefront she paused as she saw a notice hanging on the door. When she got close enough to read it in the dim light of the street lamps it stated in large flashing multi coloured letters

WEASLEY'S WIZARD WHEEZES

Coming Soon!!!

Renee's imagined dream and hope for a less dismal future was shattered with that notice. Her heart was set on renting a storefront she could no longer have. She felt a thousand different emotions course through her –disappointment, frustration, anger, and incredulity- before she finally settled on despair mingled with rage. Without thinking she reached up and ripped the posting off the door, ripped it into many little pieces and was about to stomp on it when she heard a chuckle from behind her.

"Excuse me, but I'm going to have to ask you to replace that" a voice said.

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Author's Note: In the next chapter . . . Fred! Please review!