"'Arry!"

Harry briefly closed his eyes, choosing to ignore the slurred call of his name.

"Oi, 'Arry!" The second call was substantially louder than the first, and this time, he couldn't believably pretend not to hear. "C'mon over!"

After a swift roll of his eyes, Harry slowly made his way from the bar over to the small table Sirius stood at, a sizeable number of empty pint glasses in the centre.

He looked his Godfather up and down before lowering his eyebrows in accusation. "You're drunk."

"Am not!" Sirius disagreed, straightening as if it would hide the slight swaying of his form. "Come meet my new frien's."

A pair of men, each looking almost as intoxicated as Sirius himself sat at the round table he was currently using to hold himself up with.

Sirius gestured at the smaller of the two, "this is H-Hubertus-"

"Horace." The man corrected.

"-and Haggis."

"Hagrid."

"'S what I said." Sirius waved his hand nonchalantly and leaned his elbow on the table.

"Good to meet you," Harry drawled irritably with a side-eye at Sirius.

"Likewise, m'boy, likewise," said the man called Horace before he patted the stool beside him. "Take a seat! It isn't every day we see new faces around here!"

Harry gave him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and, somewhat grudgingly, took the vacant stool next to Horace.

"What brings you into our small town, m'boy? Your friend here hasn't yet had the decency to enlighten us. Harry, was it?"

Harry nodded, putting in a conscious effort to keep a straight face as Horace wrapped an arm over his shoulders. "We're looking for someone. A girl—family friend of mine. She came out here to Hogsmeade for a trip away and we haven't heard from her in a while."

"Oh? Oh, how dreadful. Isn't that dreadful?" Hagrid nodded solemnly in response, while Sirius tipped his head all the way back to finish his current beer.

"We were hoping," Harry glared at Sirius, "that someone here might've seen her."

Horace's thick brows lowered. "A young woman?" He asked, and Harry nodded. "On her own?" Another nod. "Looking for work?"

"Maybe."

"Oho! Yes, yes, I might've... about yay big-" Horace gestured at the height of his chin, "-slim, big hair? Almost like a dish brush?"

Harry straightened, a dangerous burst of hope beginning to spark in his stomach. "Did you happen to get her name?"

"Erm... Harm... Harmony... no, that's not—Herm... Hermes. Hermione!"

Harry very quickly slumped. "The woman I'm looking for- her name is Ginny," he went on, his tone becoming desperate. "Ginny Weasley. Ginevra."

Horace's eyebrows once more lowered in thought. "I... can't say the name's familiar," he said, and as Hagrid shook his head in agreeance, Harry's spirits plummeted. "But, if it's a young woman you're looking for, you'd perhaps try up the hill? At Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts?"

"The coffee shop. Small stone building. Looks a bit like a castle, wouldn't you say?" Horace whacked Hagrid on the arm.

Hagrid nodded so vigorously that he had to grip to table to keep himself from topping off his stool. "Daintiest castle ye've ever seen in yeh life."

"Too right," Horace agreed loudly. "They'd see more traffic up there then down here. Coffee's the flavour of the month, you see. All the young people nowadays trying to be hip."

Harry glanced over at Sirius hopefully, finding him slouching with his eyes shut on the brink of passing out. "We'll be sure to check it out. Thank you," Harry said.

"Don't mention it, my fine boy," Horace said, clasping Harry on the shoulder before he took a long swig of his beer. "Now, just remember, if you ever need anything—band-aids, painkillers, anything prescription—remember that my prices at the pharmacy are far lower than up the hill."

By the time the door handle rattled that night with the tell-tale sound of Luna's entry, Hermione's worry was becoming dangerously close to breaking point.

Like a cat that'd been spooked, she straightened from her slouched position of the couch and eyed the doorway. A moment later, Luna's distinct figure passed through slowly, her head down and her hands tightly clenched around the strap of her bag.

"Luna? Are you all right?" Hermione asked at once as Luna carefully placed her bag down on the coffee table.

Luna's head picked up at the sound of her voice, as though she'd been so lost in thought that she hadn't noticed Hermione on the couch. "Yes," she said distractedly. "Yes, fine."

"It's late. I was really starting to worry about you," said Hermione before she blinked, getting a good look at Luna's face in the light from the lamp. "Did you get held up at the shelter?"

Luna didn't answer, and instead pressed her lips tightly together before she slowly began to pace the living room.

"Luna... are you sure you're all right?" repeated Hermione. "You look almost as if you've seen a ghost."

Luna stopped her pacing and glanced away, her teeth holding onto her lip. "What if I told you I had?" she whispered.

"Um," Hermione sounded, leaning forward toward Luna as she dropped herself into the vacant armchair. "Then I'd really have to ask you again... are you feeling all right?"

Luna stared down at her hands, clamping them together in her lap. "You don't believe me."

"Luna-"

"Of course you don't believe me. Why would you?"

"I haven't said that I don't believe you," Hermione insisted gently, her eyes softening. "You haven't even told me what's happened. I couldn't have possibly made up my mind of whether I believe you or not even if I wanted to."

Luna nodded and leaned in, mirroring Hermione's posture. "I was at the shelter earlier. I was closing. I saw a man in the park across the road through the window, and he was watching me. Us, Crookshanks and I. I don't know what he was. A monster, or a demon, or a ghost, I don't know, but what I do know, is that he was just... wrong," she said surely. "He didn't belong."

"Luna..."

"And there was a crow," she went on. "It was with him, on the bench. It was like he was talking to it."

At that, Hermione thought back to the crow she'd seen at Hogwarts.

Common creatures, crows.

She brushed the thought off and reached out to place a hand on Luna's shoulder. "How about I get you a cup of tea?" she asked.

Luna met Hermione's eyes. "You don't believe me."

"No," Hermione said quickly. "No, I believe you, I do. I might not exactly believe that who you saw was a ghost or a demon, but creepy men are everywhere. He might very well have been dangerous, and you were right to stay away."

"No," Luna said quickly, the word imploring. "No, it wasn't like that, he wasn't a man. I know. He was something else... something other. He didn't belong."

Hermione gave Luna the best sympathetic look she could muster and patted her hand on her shoulder. "I'll get you that tea." She rose from her seat and went toward the kitchen. "I can come with you next time, if you like. To the shelter," she called back to Luna from the kitchen. "Would that make you feel better?"

Hermione didn't hear an answer, and so she focused on getting the colour of the tea to the perfect shade of not quite black. Once satisfied, she added a small dash of milk to each mug and carried them back into the living room.

"Here," she said, offering the purple mug to Luna.

Luna took it carefully and gave her a small smile before she whispered, "I don't think I want to go back. He knows I work there now."

Hermione blinked. "B-but what about the animals?" she said, though her mind was yelling, what about the money? "You love it there, what about Crookshanks?"

Then, as if the creature had heard its name and was unable to fight the call of it, Luna's bag on the coffee table moved as if it were alive, knocking the glass that Hermione had left on it clean off and onto the floor, where it landed with a loud smash. Wide-eyed, Hermione looked back to the bag to see a ginger, squashed sort of face poking out of the half-open zipper.

Hermione stared at the cat.

The cat stared back.

"Luna..."

Luna was peering up at Hermione sheepishly and brought her free hand up in a shrug. "Surprise," she said guiltily. "It's like you said—I couldn't just leave him. What if he… what if it comes back?"

Hermione sighed loudly and silently wondered whether there was a psychiatrist somewhere in the town.

She suspected not.

"Fine," she said grudgingly after a pause, plonking herself back down into her spot on the couch. "But you can clean up that glass, and you can be responsible for feeding him. And he's not sleeping anywhere near me."

Luna grinned, lunging forward to the bag to help Crookshanks get out of it. She cradled the cat tightly in her arms and sat back down, giving him a chance to get comfortable in her lap.

"This is your new home, Crookshanks," said Luna, gesturing to the living room. "Do you like it?"

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes, but then, the bloody cat actually meowed.

Luna grinned down at him. "It is cosy, isn't it? The yard has plenty of room for you to run around, and the pillows over on that couch are really soft. I know you'll like them, and we can get you a scratching post, too! Would you like that?"

Another meow.

"Bloody hell," Hermione mumbled, taking a long sip of her tea.

"It's okay, Crookshanks," said Luna, scratching the cat behind the ears. "She'll warm up to you soon. It took a while for me, too."

Hermione glanced up at Luna and rolled her eyes, and Luna simply smiled sweetly back.

It wasn't as if she'd been wrong.

The next day, eager to get out of the house and away from the new cat who seemed to want to follow her everywhere, Hermione went back to Hogwarts.

It was late morning by the time she made it to the top of the hill, the front garden of the café shaded by the silhouette of the building. Even without the sun shining on the garden, it was just as lovely, and Hermione felt her nerves soothed by the vivid colours of the plants and the sheer amount of life in the garden. There were butterflies by the fence, flying between the flowers. The sound of birds chirping echoed down from high up in the largest tree, and she saw the tail of red squirrel as it darted up the trunk. There was even a crow in the same spot of the smaller tree that she'd seen one in on her first visit.

She wondered if it was the same crow.

Why Luna was so insistent upon staying away from such a place was well and truly beyond her, and by the time Hermione made it through the garden and into the shop, she had a wide grin on her face.

It didn't stay there long, however. A sobering, odd combination of relief and disappointment washed over her seeing an unknown young teenager behind the front counter of Hogwarts rather than Tom.

As soon as she registered the sinking feeling, she suddenly felt rather foolish. Really, what had she been thinking? He obviously couldn't have been the only one working there. He was entitled to a day off, just as others were entitled to working there.

But then, just as she sighed and began to accept the fact that she wouldn't be seeing him that day, there was the faintest of touches on her shoulder, and even through her clothing, it felt sharply electrical. Hermione flinched and spun on her heel, her breath catching in her throat—

And Tom was there, standing mere inches away, one hand holding a stack of dishes he must've been in the process of collecting from the cafe tables, the other lowering from brushing her shoulder.

He was grinning down at her, in a way that almost looked as if he was relieved to see her. "Just as I was beginning to think I wouldn't see you today."

With each word he spoke, the words so very close to the same ones she'd been thinking about him, her heart skipped a beat.

"Um... sorry to disappoint," she managed to say with a nervous sort of laugh, giving him the closest thing to a smile as she could manage.

"Oh, no, no, quite the opposite," he said quietly before he gestured at the counter. "Coffee?"

Hermione's lungs stilled.

Quite the opposite.

Quite the opposite.

Had he... actually been wanting to see her? Her?

The thought alone had her cheeks heating. "Yes, please."

He gave her another of his dismantling, wide smiles and said, "come."

Unlike her brain, her legs obediently obeyed her will and she trailed after him. As he ducked behind the counter, she waited on the other side, leaning against the wooden panelling, watching as his slender hands found the tools he needed for her coffee.

They were nice. His hands, that was. His fingers, though slim, looked strong and sure of their movements. She watched his tendons moving, passing under his visible veins as he deftly cleaned the machine, readying it for another brew.

It was hypnotising, watching him work.

"I spoke with Mr. Dippet this morning," said Tom after a while, drawing her attention off of his hands. She found his dark eyes peering at her over the machine as he loaded it with a fresh scoop of coffee grounds. "He'd like to meet you."

"R-really?" Hermione didn't have a hope of keeping the excitement from her voice; with Luna's decision to leave her job, she needed it now more than ever.

"Really." He grinned. "How's tomorrow morning?"

"That's... that'd be perfect."

"Nine?"

She nodded, but being busy fixing a lid to her cup, Tom didn't see it, so she said, "I'll be here bright and early."

"Great," he said, sliding the cup over to her and watching her expectantly. "Did you have your card on you?"

"Oh." Hermione rummaged through her wallet, quickly finding the light brown card he'd given her with her first coffee. She handed it over and he plucked it from her grip carefully.

He brought a stamp out from next to the register and gave it two, quick stamps. "An extra one for yesterday," he explained, offering the card back to her with a wink that was so quick she almost missed it.

"Th-thank you," she mumbled, the words coming out humiliatingly airily.

If he noticed, he didn't mention it. "Of course," he said, leaning forward onto the counter and flashing his teeth in the very same sideways smile that she was beginning to think was her favourite of his. "Besides, I need something to keep you coming back."

The words, so similar to Luna's initial warning of the coffee shop, had Hermione laughing. "I think between this and the job, you're pretty well set to never getting rid of me."

He watched her for a long moment. His smile didn't waver, and she thought that as his eyes passed over her features, he might've been looking at her lips.

"Perfect."

It was the afternoon by the time Harry managed to get Sirius out of bed, late afternoon by the time they were ready to leave the hotel room.

Late afternoon was hardly the time to be visiting a coffee shop and Harry hadn't held back in telling Sirius so, but evidently suffering from what looked to be a mammoth of a hangover, Harry figured his Godfather was being punished well enough.

Once they got finally moving, finding Hogwarts hadn't been difficult. The cafe was located at the very top of the hill on the main street of Hogsmeade and was just as Horace and Hagrid had said the night before; it easily could've passed as a miniature castle.

Sirius let out a tired sigh as they pulled up out the front, lifting his hands off of the wheel to rub at his temples.

"I can go in alone, if you'd prefer," Harry offered.

To that, Sirius replied with only a snort before he got out of the car. Harry followed suit, stepping out of the old car to take in the café and its surroundings.

Harry had to admit, it was a cute little place. The ornamental garden gave him the impression it would be the exact sort of café that an elderly grandmother would be running.

He glanced beside him at Sirius to see him scowling at the flowers.

"Come on, then," said Harry, leading the way into the shop. Harry heard Sirius mumble something unintelligible as the bell rung, alerting any staff of their entry.

Stopping in the entrance way, Harry glanced around. The cafe seemed inconspicuous enough. A modest number of customers sat around the shop, sipping at their drinks, engrossed in light conversations. The decor was aged, and most of the furniture was darkly wooden. Above then in the entry way, was an old chandelier lit with candles rather than light bulbs. It, along with the fireplace and bookcase on the far wall gave the cafe a cosy feel to it.

"What do you think?" asked Harry.

Sirius lifted his sunglasses to perch them on the top of his head and glanced at Harry. "Creepy."

Harry wasn't sure if he agreed. If he were being honest, his first impression of the shop was that it was rather... quaint. If Ginny had been spending her time free time there, then he could hardly blame her. He'd probably do the same if he were staying in the town for recreation.

"Should we ask the staff?" Harry gestured at the front counter, and though there wasn't currently anyone behind it, Sirius nodded and led the way over.

Sirius gave the bell two quick rings and Harry used the opportunity to keep looking around.

The shop was more spacious on the inside than it'd looked from the outside. There were multiple seating areas, each with its own theme to it; one to the left that looked a bit like a library. One toward the front of the shop that was lighter and more spacious, centred around the wide bay-window. The other, closer to the back, had more of a medieval mood to it with rich emerald and ruby coloured rugs layered over each other.

"Can I help you?"

At the deep voice, Harry craned his neck back to glance at the staff member who'd greeted them, and in that instant, all of this thoughts came to an abrupt, screeching halt.

Never in his life had Harry seriously questioned his sexuality before. He'd known from his young teenage years, that he was, quite strongly, attracted to women.

And yet, the man behind the counter, the one who'd spoken, had Harry's cheeks reddening, his mouth pooling and his skin quickly growing clammy.

After a swift questioning glance at Harry that went unseen, Sirius stepped forward and said, "we're looking for a woman. Ginny Weasley. Ring a bell?"

The man's dark eyes passed between them, and Harry felt his pulse speeding up with each moment that the barista's attention was on him. "Can't say that it does."

"Err... here," Harry said once he regained the ability, fumbling with his wallet slightly and taking out Ginny's photograph to place it on the counter. "This is-" Harry cleared his throat and moistened his overly dry lips. "This is her. Do you recognise her?"

With a long finger, the barista slid the photo across the counter towards himself. Harry watched his dark eyes scanning the image, and though he'd been watching for any sign of recognition, he found his attention more focused on the shape of the barista's jaw, the positioning of his moles, the individual hairs of his eyebrows—

"I think I'd remember a woman such as this one, had I seen her," said the barista, sliding Ginny's photograph back toward them. "Sorry."

"D-d'you know where else we might try?" asked Harry, a building desire to keep talking, to keep the barista's attention. "Somewhere else in town tourists might visit?"

The barista's shoulder rose and fell in a sort of half-shrug, and Harry couldn't help but notice how broad his shoulders were. "The bank. The supermarket. Petrol station. Places of necessity, maybe."

Harry forced himself to nod. "Thank you."

The barista leaned forward onto the counter, the veins in his pale, sinewy arms standing out. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help," he said politely. "Could I offer you a drink or anything while you're here, detective...?"

"Oh," Harry gushed quickly, "I'm not—we're not detectives. Just concerned for a frie-" Sirius' elbow drove into Harry's side.

Sirius cleared his throat at the same time as Harry made a sound of pain. "Just a couple glasses of water, thanks mate."

The barista's eyes passed between them once more and he watched Sirius for an extended moment. "Right away."

As soon as the barista stepped back from the counter and around the corner out of sight, Sirius glared at Harry. "The fuck's wrong with you?"

Harry glanced at Sirius from the corner of his eye. "Nothing."

"Bullshit. You're doing a fine impression of a pubescent boy at his elder sister's slumber party—"

Sirius broke off as the barista came back into view, two tall glasses of water in his hands.

"Water's free," said the barista as he reached them, sliding the two glasses across the counter.

"Thanks, mate." Sirius lifted his and downed it in a scull, while Harry gave the barista a tight smile and took a hesitant sip of his.

The barista's lips twisted in what might've been mild amusement. "You two in town for long?"

"Just until we find the girl," said Sirius before Harry had the chance to speak, returning the glass. Then he turned to Harry and gestured toward the door. "Well, come on then."

Harry nodded and put down his glass. "Um," he sounded, "thank you."

"Don't mention it."

Harry held his stare for a moment, and when he broke it to follow after Sirius, it almost felt painful.

The feeling followed him to the door like a rope, pulling at him, tugging at him, urging him not to leave, to look back, to turn around, to stay—

"Oh, sorry," Harry said, succumbing at the very last moment and stopping in his tracks. "Could... would you mind... could I get your name?"

The barista's lips re-formed the same, playful smirk he'd given him earlier and this time, Harry didn't think he'd be able to look away from it if he tried. "Tom."

"H— I'm Harry."

Harry's blood grew hot as Tom's eyes passed down to his shoes and back up again. "It was nice meeting you, Harry."

Harry wanted to say more. He opened his mouth to do just that, but then his arm was forcefully yanked in the direction of the door.

"Come on," Sirius all but growled, and with a pathetic sort of a wave, Harry turned his back on the barista and exited the shop.

Sirius didn't let go of his arm until they were outside and out past the front gate of the cafe's yard.

Feeling Sirius glaring at him, Harry kept his eyes on his shoes and quickly got back into the car. He sighed as his weight sank into the worn passenger seat of the Valiant, finally feeling as if the weight on his chest had let up and he could properly breathe again.

Sirius spoke as soon as he got in the car. "The fuck was that?"

Harry blinked. "Sorry?"

"Don't play dumb with me, boy. 'Could I get your name?'" Sirius mocked in what Harry could only assume was an impression of himself. "You need a handkerchief for all that drool?"

Harry snorted low in his throat. "I—I wasn't drooling, I'm not— I don't like... men, not like that, I just—"

Sirius cut him off with a loud scoff shut his door with a slam. "I don't believe him," he grumbled.

Harry frowned. "No?"

"Not for a moment." Sirius twisted the keys and the Valiant roared to life. "Did you hear what he said? He didn't say no."

"D-didn't he? I thought he said—"

"When you showed him your girl's picture, he didn't say he didn't recognise her. He eluded to it and he left us to reach the conclusion on our own."

"Wait," Harry said, frown deepening. "What does that mean?"

Sirius put the car into gear, and they started to move as if he were in a hurry to put some distance between them and the café. "It's a common tactic used by several types of demon, some of which I've had experience with. Ones who are sworn to the truth, ones who cannot lie, others who find enjoyment in teasing, playing with humans."

"Then... you're saying that he's…" Harry glanced toward the road, but his eyes were unfocused. "But... that means..."

"It means, we might have an idea of what we're dealing with here," Sirius said lowly. "And the way he had you tripping over your own tongue on top of that... that leaves even fewer possibilities."

"I-I wasn't tripping... I was just nervous, I—"

"Save it for someone who believes you," said Sirius, turning the car in a neat U-turn to direct them back down the main street. "Could be a vampire." Sirius curled his nose up in distaste as he spoke. "A bit of a pain to deal with, but it's easy enough to kill one when you can get them alone. It would explain the missing girls—"

"B—it's daylight," Harry pointed out, his stomach turning over the word kill.

Sirius barked a quick laugh. "Did you see how dark it was in there? It was lit with candles for Christ's sake."

Harry pondered that. "I... I mean... I guess so..."

"Or..." Sirius went on, "he still could be a demon. He'd have to be a higher demon to have you making such a fool of yourself, which would mean bad news, but... I don't know, that doesn't explain why he didn't affect me..."

Harry remained silent, allowing Sirius to collect his thoughts.

"It could be... nah," Sirius decided quickly. "Fey aren't solitary, and they're notoriously peaceful. Really rare out in human communities, too. I've never even seen one myself."

"What makes you think he's solitary?"

Sirius pulled his eyes away from the road for just long enough to give Harry a look of disbelief. "The rest of the staff. None of them had you drooling like a Saint Bernard, did they?"

"Hey—"

"Save it," repeated Sirius. "No, I think it's much more likely that we're dealing with a witch."

There was a sizeable pause after Sirius' declaration, until Harry couldn't hold it in any longer, "don't you mean wizard?"

Sirius waved one of his hands dismissively. "We should assume it's a witch," he said, ignoring Harry. "They're very common. Simple enough to handle. Just gotta get you one of these." Sirius tapped on his neck and Harry's eyes followed the movement.

"A rosary?"

"You don't have to believe in what it symbolises," said Sirius. "Just believe that witches hate the things and it'll protect you. It's probably why he had such an effect on you and not me."

"He didn't have an effect on me," said Harry, scratching at the skin of his neck that felt hot just remembering. "And I don't think it was a spell, he was just... he was really... I dunno... maybe I'm just..."

Sirius didn't wait for Harry to finish that before he laughed. "And some fucking spell at that," he mumbled. "Don't worry. If it's meant to be, and you feel the same way with your rosary on, and then by all means; we can forget about your girl, and the two of you can ride off into the sunset."

"Sirius..."

"Hell, if I'm wrong, I'll even let you have the Val."

Harry blinked. "...you mean that?"

"Yep." Sirius popped the 'p'.

"I'll hold you to that," Harry murmured, pulling his wallet out from his pocket. He folded it open and glanced down at Ginny's smiling photograph, his thumb brushing over it.

"Hey, Sirius?" asked Harry, looking up from the photo after a moment of quiet.

"Yeah?"

"If... if he is a witch, or a vampire, or a higher demon or whatever, and he is responsible for Ginny being missing... do you think... d'you... could she..."

"Still be alive?" Sirius offered.

"...yeah."

Harry noticed Sirius' hands tightening on the wheel.

"Maybe," he said at last. "More likely so if he's a witch. Less likely if he's a vampire. But if she is... you can be sure that we'll find her. Promise."

At the weight in Sirius' words, Harry closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat.

He tried to think of Ginny. He tried to think of what they were doing, to remind himself that this was a monster they were talking about, that anything they did was for the greater good.

And yet…

And yet, all he could see were those brown eyes.