lie still bag of bones

“Thought you could use some help. Skeeter’s dreadful. She’s been sniffing around all week looking over people’s shoulders in line and bothering my customers,”said Hank. 

“And you, I bet,”said Lee wrinkling his nose in disgust.Rita Skeeter made his skin crawl. He had wanted to burn the sweater her perfume had contaminated, but realized it would be another instance of him overreacting. And it didn’t seem right to burn a sweater from Mrs. Weasley. 

“Yup,”confirmed Hank.”You owe me, Jordan.”

“Ah. My rescuer asks a favor from me. Name your terms, sir,”said Lee signing his name at the bottom of a form. Hank studied Lee for a moment,”You seeing anyone?”

Lee smirked. He rested his arm on the counter, held the completed form out and leaned forward,”Are you asking me out, Hank?”

“Not me, you idiot,”said Hank snatching the form.”My niece.”

Hm. It was just a blind date. It wouldn’t mean anything. It might even be fun. And he did owe him.One date. 

“One,” emphasized Lee, “awkward date beats being one of Rita Skeeter’s headlines. Yeah, sure.” 

“Good man.And you never know, you might like her.”

Lee smiled, but even if he did end up liking her he wasn’t ready for anything like that. Not yet. And he would make that very clear. 

He shifted the weight of the package off the counter and into his arms. The woman to his left said his name and he turned cautiously.A ping of recognition sounded in his head and all thoughts of Rita Skeeter trying to pounce on him again vanished. Verity Jones. He grinned right back at her. He couldn’t see her grin as it was hidden behind her cozy looking scarf, but the corners of her eyes were crinkled in a friendly way. 

“Verity? Excuse me,” He pulled her scarf down just a bit. “Yeah, looks like you.Hey. What are you doing here?”

He hadn’t seen her in ages. In fact, their little pen pal correspondence had been the lengthiest conversation he ever had with her.The initial letter he had sent her had been part of his second attempt at re-establishing contact with people.He wasn’t sure why he had sent her a letter. They hadn’t been close,but Fred and George had thought well of her. That was reason enough.There had been no grand plan concerning her particular little letter. After all, he had sent Oliver and other people he had been closer to letters, too.He supposed there had been the vague notion she or the others would be able to help him…help George.

Verity’s response had been a welcome surprise on the day Lee received it. However, Lee hadn’t actually summoned up the courage to pick her brains on the subject of George. They’d been trading letters back and forth for quite sometime, but the topics were light and diverting. And so very different from what Lee was surrounded by everyday. He was stunned to see her. Lee hadn’t mentioned where he was, but neither had she. Had she done this to surprise him? Was this a chance meeting? Was she here to visit George? Did she even know he was at Hogwarts?Was she visiting someone else? She had a letter in her hand. She was sending a letter. 

“You’re sending something.Uh,” Lee shuffled out of the way and set the package down on the floor. 

This, this, was unexpected—a welcome, positive, kind of unexpected. He’d had quite enough of the other sort. Verity Jones in Hogsmeade. This was fantastic. He didn’t know what to say now. He had dozens of next sentences running around in his head. One of the benefits of a letter trading based relationship was Lee had had time to collect and choose what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to overwhelm her with excited and curious words.

That was a definite possibility. She was right there. He wouldn’t have to worry about Bridget dropping his letter or have to wait for a response.He wouldn’t have to worry about whether his handwriting was legible or not. They could have a proper conversation. She had a healthy sense of humor on paper and she had worked at the twin’s shop. Verity looked well. That was a good sign. 

But Lee. Yes. Lee. Lee, still retaining that handsome quality not just in his face but in his eyes, and always very pleasant. No matter which way you looked at him. She had deemed him as kind and had never thought to retract the in-mind-compliment. He'd been nothing but nice to her. And it seemed to remain the same now. Verity tried to cancel out the awkwardness that lugged around in her chest, and when he brought attention to her letter - she burst into realization.

"Yeah," She side-stepped with him, remaining in front of him. She reached out with it, giving it a wag of offer. "It's actually for you, funnily enough. So. No point in sending it now, eh? I get to keep my sickle." Her nose scrunched up in amusement and her eyes collected it, too. Her gaze dodged down to his package, and she tilted her head; curious. "I don't know if you want to read it now or when you go... home?" She turned her head by the chin, eyes narrowing with uncertainty, half a question as she spoke. "Or whatever."

The awkwardness had reared it's head, as it had done with Leanne. But not George. Then again, George she knew a little better. 

She stepped back, the dirt on the bottom of her boots crunching. There was a smudge of mud up the side of her jeans, and on a further inspection, it ran up the back of leg, too. Frowning, she bent to swipe at it. It didn't help her to like the crappy weather.

It was always such a bother, the initial process of getting to know someone, to get over the awkwardness. Of course it could be exciting and new as well, but in a time like now when the offer of a shoulder would only be stilted and rejected politely, the sensation of ropes crisscrossing across Leanne’s chest would appear.

It seemed her choice of conversations had Miss Jones in a state of deep contemplation as well as possible remembrance? It occurred to her that perhaps a change in pace would do; lighter and more airy conversation would maybe soothe Miss Jones’ brow.

The inflection in the elder girl’s voice was pure angel food cake. Sponging in the pleasant feeling, Leanne half smiled and ducked her head to stare into the goblet of almost gone Butterbeer. “I could always tell you if they’ve gone back, Miss Jones…That is, if I know, of course.” Voice soft, for the atmosphere now allowed it what with the recent departure of a large group, it was a far more comfortable volume for her throat. “You could tell me the names?” A side glance as she drained the last of the warming drink. Swallowing, she used one of the complimentary napkins from Honeydukes to remove the Butterbeer moustache at last.

There was only a bite or two left of the opened Treacle fudge, so Leanne resolved to save it for something do do whilst thinking later in the conversation. “As for my friends, I don’t have many. Miss Katie returned for a little while but she left to go back home…Mister Rolf, though!” A wide stretch of lips belied her happiness at this particular information. “Mister Rolf’s returned as Mister Hagrid’s teaching assistant! It’s so lovely, for he’s quite into magical creatures, you see. So it’s perfect!” Nodding happily, she turned in her stool to fully face Miss Jones now that there was no food or drink to occupy some of her attention span. “And I’ve made new friends recently! Mister Jordan, though I haven’t seen him since we ran from Mister Peeves a few weeks ago. And I haven’t seen Mister George, either. But I’m sure I will soon!” Beaming, Leanne nudged Verity.

"Rolf? Scamander, right?" She nodded, as if confirming this herself despite whatever Leanne would say. A bad habit adopted from her sibling. "Really? He's just a young tyke, innit-he?" Her gaze fell on Leanne's now empty butterbeer mug, and Verity debated refilling it on the house. She kept the thought muddling as she continued. "Well! He's a bright young fella. Good for him to be at it young." 

Leanne's suggestion was a very good one, and it brightened Verity. She perked and drummed her hands contently on the bar. When she caught the giddiness act, she halted and pushed locks behind her ear, making a guilty expression that stretched her mouth on tight-together teeth, neck sucking in and the chords sticking out. "That's a plan, that is. I'll write you a list, because it's a very long one and I wouldn't dream of riling them off and expecting you to remember." Verity laughed, belly warm with the sound as she summoned a quill and a slip of parchment by just twirling the tip of her wand. It didn't take long to jot down the names (although some ended up crossed out, being as their real-life counter parts had died), and slide it over to her in a small fold. As if in exchange, she swiped up Leanne's mug, walking backwards to the barrel.

Miss Jones seemed to have paused after her words, a contemplative expression sitting on her forehead. A sigh finally escaped the other and she opened her mouth to converse once more. Leanne tilted her head, wondering what the brief moment of silence had been for. She’d only been talking of living with her parents… Had she missed something? The thought of possibly having zonked out for a second horrified her, so she quickly tried to stuff the alarm down in order to pay attention. The circle of panic ceased, but she hoped her rudeness wasn’t so obvious. When Verity ended her explanation Leanne’s eyes widened in realization. Oh! Money problems, then? Whatever the problem, the younger girl nudged over another piece of fudge, not wishing to cause Miss Jones any further distress on the subject.

The answer to her posed question on choice of location had Leanne smiling. “So you wanted to help!” How kind and selfless! Most avoided the areas damaged by the war, not wishing to have visual reminders.

However, if more people like Miss Jones came around to help, there would be no such visuals around. Air coming out in a rush from her nostrils, she took a sip of the still warm Butterbeer and stewed over the common masses. “So, you’ve not been working here all that long, then. How’re you enjoying it? A job with a lot of interaction is always interesting, or so I think…Hogsmeade is generally a good area for crowds. Plus, it’s near Hogwarts so perhaps you’ll see old friends!”

She had wanted to help. For reasons like Leanne; for people who continued to smile even though the worst could've happened; and to many it had. People who hurt because they lost people and just needed fixing, whether it be by small smile or butterbeer. And Rosmerta had been hurt when her shop took, for lack of a better words, a shit-kicking and someone who had been endlessly kind to her as a student - Verity felt strongly about aiding. 

"'Course I wanted to help. S'what Hufflepuff's are known for." Her lips quirked into a half grin, and a shrug rolled from her. "I just know a lot of people had it harder than me, and I can at least give them a hand if they don't turn it away." The butterbeer sat heavy in her belly for a moment, but as quick as the feeling had filtered in - it filtered out and there was once more a calm. "No," she sighed, inclining her head. She wished there was a back to the stool. "Not long at all. But I think I'll be here for a long time. There's no one else really opened up to hiring. I think the main reason Rosmerta agreed was because I promised I'd help her rebuild." 

And if Verity didn't work - she'd go stir-crazy. To think of not doing anything bothered her; muffled her mind and made her feel like she had the itches all over. Her gut rolled and she inhaled deeply, feeling the expand of her lungs and how sparse and tight it was. She held it, then let it go from her nostrils. 

Old friends. The thought crossed Verity's mind. Plenty of times. There'd be a few people she'd been hoping to meet; and even a further few whom she kept expecting to walk in through the door at any moment - but the thought would fall like it had leaped and missed the ledge of the next cliff; because those people were dead. Though Verity had not known them enough to be able to mourn them in such a serious way, she had still known of them and it was a sad thing to know they wouldn't step in through the broken door way as Leanne had. Her fingers twitched on her mug. And then there was George. George with his goofy smile that had a echo and his mirth-sprinkled eyes. Lee, whom she did not know quite as well, but still had frequented a class with back in the day. Her mind always wanted to reach for another name - Fred - but she always stopped it. Always.