Harry Potter and the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy.

[Jonen C]

This is already up on SB, but what with the reliability...
Do I even need an excuse for posting this here anyway?

All standard disclaimers apply.
***

"Harry?"

His head was spinning. It shouldn't be spinning. He hadn't been drinking...

Well not that much anyway.

"Harry?"

He briefly considered getting up, decided not to when he couldn't determine which direction was up. Merlin he felt awful.

"Harry! Are you awake?"

That voice again. What was her name again? He didn't remember immediately and decided not to bother trying. It'd come back eventually.

"Harry!"

Sounds urgent... Nah, it can wait until the room stops moving. Voldemort is dead, all's right with the world. He pats down his robes until he finds a particular pocket, pulls out a small vial and holds it up in front of his face.

"HARRY!"

He groans as he tries to open his eyes. The harsh lighting makes him decide not to. That particular pocket should only contain a few doses of a general purpose pepper up, so he decides to take the chance. He uncorks the vial and holds it up in front of his mouth, tips it over. Nothing comes out.

"HARRY! GET UP!"

He opens his eyes and blinks a bit. He shakes the vial a bit to no effect, but he can see the liquid inside. Odd. He puts it to his mouth and manages to suck down a dose. The potion works fast and the effects spread through his body.

"Oh Zarquons Blessed... Argh! Get up right now or I'm leaving without you!"

Realization: His head is not spinning - The Room is spinning. And not just the room. And apparently the Lord of Gravity has decided to take the day off. He looks around a bit in confusion and then brings a hand up to touch his forehead. He winces and pulls the hand back. A big, nasty, painful bump to go with his scar. Ouch.

"Finally! Get suited up, we've got to bail!"

He blinks a bit in confusion. The pretty girl is wearing an odd and slightly bulky lucking multicolored... Suit of armor? She thrusts another suit - a large one piece with a huge hole in the back for entry, boots and gloves attached - into Harrys arms. It's an odd looking thing, and the colors, splashed on with no discernible pattern, appears all wrong.

"I'll help you! Hurry up!"

Somehow, with a little help of the girl, he manages to get his legs into the legs of the suit, and then she grabs him, turns him around and drags the rest of the suit onto him. He puts his arms into the arms as she seals the hole in the back by connecting a big and bulky box to it.

"Right! Not a bad fit, can I call it or what? It's not to tight, is it? Not to loose? Nothing pinching? Hmm... Bunching up a bit. Maybe should have gotten you out of those robes first... A well, to late for that now."

There's a whine in the room... Cabin. It's not in a house, it's on a vessel of some sort, traveling awfully fast and awfully uncontrolled. He can see the controls in the next room over, and the scenery outside the window is changing very fast, and very regularly. Darkness, light, darkness, darkness, light...

And more of the light every time, getting bigger or closer...

"Check-list. Air. Check. Batteries. Check, check. Joints. Check, Check, Check... All green and souped up... Whoop, times up!"

Harry is just about to ask what is going on when she suddenly thrusts a fishbowl over his head, connecting it to the metal collar of his suit. There was a click and a hiss, and then a sudden sense of quiet. Harry could hear his own heartbeat and breathing, creaks and hisses from the suit and not much else. Realization number two: The quiet came from the sudden absence of the previously deafening roar that had up until just now slowly been rising in volume, filling the cabin. No, not quite absence, just deafening. There is a slight mist filling the cabin now, like smoke, moving fast and disappearing beneath a bench.

"..."

It looked like the girl was saying something, moving her mouth quickly, as she double checked Harry's front (having turned him over, again). She smiled, turned and grabbed a fishbowl of her own, thrusting it on top of her head and fastening it to the collar of her own suit of armor. Before she did, though, Harry managed to grab a good look at her face. She was a rather striking lass, even by his experiences, an odd set of tattoos - three smallish stars - by her left eye, with black, short and pointy hair. She had an impish smile and odd green and blue eyes - odd because there were no whites.

"..."

She was moving her lips again, speaking for herself, her hands twitching in thin air as she seemed to be staring into space. He couldn't quite remember how he'd gotten into whatever their current location and apparent predicament, but he certainly remembered first meeting the girl. He paused a beat. The odd thing about her tattoos, he remembered, was that they were more or less constantly shifting in color, shape and location... You would look away for a second and when you looked back they had changed. And hadn't her hair been pink when they first met? A metamorphmagus then?

"Radio check! Radio check! Do you read?"

He grunted an acknowledgment but she didn't seem to hear him.

"You have to speak into the mike!"

"Who's Mike?" He said, smiling at the lame joke.

"Never mind... I hear you. Just speak up next time, idiot."

He glared a reply as she apparently fiddled with something on the chest of her suit - which was, unfortunately, much to bulky to be revealing or flattering - before grabbing him, pulling him in close and doing the same to him. She then grabbed a small cable out of her belt and snatched it tight onto a receptacle on Harry's midsection.

"Right! Hang on tight, I'm hitting the stabilizers and popping the hatch as soon as they kick in."

He didn't have time to ask what the stabilizers were, why she was hitting them, or where the hatch was and why it needed popping. The ship stopped spinning very definitely and forcefully. Inertia revealed that if the Lord of Gravity had taken a leave of absence she was still around, and Harry fell over onto his back, sitting against the wall. She looked at him with a knowing smile before she touched the side of her helmet gently. It turned to gold. She did the same to Harry's helmet, and the world dimmed over with a slight orange tint. She then grabbed his arm and pulled him upright, before moving to the side of the room opposite from the controls, dragging him along.

"Right. Now comes the fun part. You ever bailed out through an airlock before?"

She didn't wait for an answer before slamming her fist onto a small panel on the wall. The panel changed color from a greenish hue to a yellow one. She slammed it again and it turned red. She then pulled a lever that had appeared next to the panel. The wall split open, and seemed to fall away. Along with the rest of the inside of the ship. It took a second for him to register that the mists filling the cabin had dissipated into the darkness now surrounding them, and another few seconds for Harry to realize that the ship hadn't fallen away, but rather they had been pulled out of the ship along with the mists and were now falling away from it.

The girl shouted in glee, falling a few meters below and to his side, connected to him by the cable.

Realization number three: They were falling. He couldn't see the vessel they were falling away from shrinking into the darkness behind them, but the realization that they were falling was still completely overwhelmed by the scenery that had caused the realization. They were be floating, high in the night sky. The world - the Earth - below them, stretched out from horizon to horizon, huge and silent and inviting, yet threatening and imposing. The sky above was black, despite the sun shining brightly somewhere beside them

And the world below, he could see ocean, he could see land. And directly below them, the clouds of a huge storm, as he'd seen them from above. In pictures taken from space. He was flying. Higher than ever before.

Well, falling.

The girl calmed herself - or ran out of breath - either way she stopped shouting, Harry could see her head moving inside her helmet, though he couldn't make out her face.

Not flying, he reminded himself again. Falling. From a greater altitude than ever before. Alongside a strange woman he had trouble remembering. He was relatively sure he had met her just the day before. Well... All was right with the world, Voldemort is dead. Just sit back and enjoy the ride, Harry, he thought to himself. It was, after all, not the fall from a great height that killed, but the sudden reunion with the ground that came afterwards. He was relatively certain the girl wouldn't have thrown herself out of a moving vehicle barely inside the Earths atmosphere alongside him if she didn't have some way of dealing with said reunion...

He was falling into the atmosphere of the Earth, right? The odd thought crept into his mind from somewhere, and he couldn't identify any certain landmarks around the storm below him, and the edges towards the horizon were hard to make out.

"So, Harry?"

The woman pulled herself around and expertly, if a bit suddenly, maneuvered herself in front of him, bumping into him and drifting away a bit before grabbing a hold of his shoulders, pulling her helmet up so they were face to face - if the helmets hadn't been opaque.

"What do you think?"

Harry looked around again. The vessel they had jumped out long having disappeared out of view, the illusion of floating halfway to heaven was close to perfect.

"Sure beats regular flying, huh?"

He laughed, he could just barely see the outline of her head inside her helmet, but he could imagine that beatific smile he remembered (from where? when? earlier that night?) spreading on her face.

"It's amazing..." He admitted, grasping for words. "Breathtaking."

"It'll get a bit boring, after a while, mind... It's a long way down." She said, somehow managing to sound bored already, turning a bit and looking away.

"I don't think I could ever get tired of flying."

"Probably not, me neither. But this high up, the scenery won't change for a while." She stated, looking back at him.

He laughed again, and this time she joined him.

"I'm Random, by the way." Suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Random." Slowly, as if speaking to a small child.

"You... Make things up as you go along?" Another lame attempt at humor.

"Neg, silly! It's my name."

"Your name? Like nickname?" Confusion.

"Aff. And neg. Given name."

"Random?" Disbelief.

"Random Frequent Flier Dent."

"..."

"Don't laugh."

"Hello Random. I'm Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She giggled.

"So... Come here often?"

She snorted and burst out laughing.

He smiled and waited for her to regain her composure.

"Every time I'm in the neighborhood and as often as I can get away with it..." She admitted.

"You throw all the guys you meet out an... airlock?" He hesitated at the unfamiliar word.

Another giggle. "Only the really nice ones... Oh, and I guess the really bad ones..."

Harry quirked an eyebrow, and then, realizing she wouldn't see his face through the helmet, cocked his head to the side, exaggerating the motion so that it would carry through the suit.

"Well... In the latter case, it'll probably be my dad that'll throw them out an airlock..."

A memory fluttered somewhere just out of reach. "I think you mentioned something about your dad earlier? Should I be worried he'll come after me next?"

She laughed.

"Nah, no worries. You're a nice guy and..." She paused a beat. "You don't remember what we talked about?"

"I think I hit my head back up on the... What'd you call that thing again? Scuttle?"

"Shuttle."

"Shuttle." He repeated. "When you put it into that spin."

"Sorry about that, I thought you'd be buckled up..."

"An experienced flyer like yourself forgot to check up on her passenger?"

"Hey now, you said you were quite the distinguished flyer yourself. And I did give fair warning."

"True, but flying a broomstick is a bit different from flying a... Brick."

"Hey, no fair insulting my ride. And you fly a broom? As in broomstick? In atmo?"

"Yes."

"Seriously? Like a witch or something?"

"Wizard, and yes."

"Froody... Dad tried to teach me how to fly like that once, but he said I was to jaded to get properly distracted... Maybe you could take me flying with a broom."

"Maybe so..." He considered. "Properly distracted?"

"You know - just enough so that you forget about gravity long enough to miss the ground."

"Your dad sounds like a really interesting person, you know that?"

"Oh no. He's utterly boring. So completely mundane you wouldn't believe it." Beat. "Personally, I think the fates take it as a challenge... Or at least two out of three, Bell is much to nice to subject anyone to that."

The world was slowly growing beneath them, reaching up to envelop them, the black sky above becoming brighter and bluer, and the sun was slowly edging it's way closer to the horizon. It would be night when they fell into the storm below.

"A challenge?"

"Yeah, you know..."

"No. Enlighten me."

He could hear her take a deep breath and get ready to launch into a rant - years of experience with Hermione Granger gave him a sixth sense for that kind of thing.

"It's just that, by accident, and going from one coincidence to another, he's been the cause and effect of I don't know how many... I swear he waltzes around like one living, breathing, weirdness magnet into every intergalactic catastrophe just waiting to happen ever and he doesn't even do it on purpose!"

Harry cocked his head in the other direction. This seemed to be a subject which frustrated Random to no end. He could see her throw her head back inside her helmet. She quickly looked back, though.

"Anyway, don't get me started about my dad... You mentioned you were a hero of some sort?"

"I thought everyone knew that." He said, teasingly.

"I'm kind of not from around here." She answered, in kind.

"Oh?"

"Stop dodging my question - I'm the one trying to change the subject here!"

"What question?"

"Harry Potter. Are you a hero?"

"Yes. Well, everyone says I am, so maybe it's true."

"Oh?"

"Or maybe not. I certainly don't feel like a hero. Really, I'm just one of the guys."

"So. What did you do to make everyone say you are a hero?"

"Hmm?"

"Come on. I'll tell you where I'm from."

"I killed a guy. Twice. Or... Well, I guess if you want to be technical I killed a guy three, maybe four times."

She paused. "Anyone in particular or just someone you picked at random? Don't!" She held up a hand in warning. "Just answer the question. And how do you kill someone three or four times 'technically'."

"Someone very particular. And it's a long story."

"Who was he?"

"Big bad guy. Liked to inflict pain and kill people just because of who their parents were... Well, actually just because he wanted power. He didn't really care about parentage, that was just his followers."

"Had it coming did he?"

"He did kill my parents when I was little."

"So you got your revenge?"

"Well, sort of. I guess."

"Felt good?"

"Not really. Didn't really want to kill him. Stop him and give him a taste of his own medicine, maybe, but kill him? Only if I had to... In truth, I didn't really kill him."

"Oh?"

"I just set up circumstances so that he got himself killed. Trying to kill me. Again. Hell, I didn't even do the set up - that was done for me."

"Hmm?"

"A trap, if you will. Me as bait. He could've walked away, but in the end, his own ambition and lust for power did him in. I don't really like talking about it."

She made an approving sound. "Still. Fitting."

"What about you... Ever kill anybody?"

"What kind of question is that to ask a girl?" She put a hand on her hip. "Not as such no... Well, maybe, there was this time when... I really wasn't thinking straight, though. I kind of helped some Vogons to destroy the world... Mind, I didn't really know what I was doing, or why, and everyone got better in the end."

"Vogons?"

"You don't want to know. But I'll tell you before we run into one."

"Anything I should be worried about?"

"Not really. They're lousy shots and thoroughly incompetent. Just stay out of their way if you can and never let them read you their poetry and you'll be fine."

"And they destroyed the world?"

"Yes... At least twice. It's still here isn't it? Told you they're incompetent."

"So."

"So?"

"Well... Were are you from, Random?"

"Why, I thought you'd never ask." She paused.

"Now who's dodging the question."

"I'm just thinking about how best to answer it."

"Right..."

"How about... I'll show you."

She maneuvered again, pushing herself up a bit and into Harry, grabbing a hold of him and then maneuvering again, turning them both over in a tumble. She stopped it when they'd changed position, so that she was falling face down, and Harry was below her, facing upwards.

"Besides." she added. "It's my turn to be on top."

Harry blinked a couple of times. The sun had now passed below the horizon, and the sky, though it still had hints of color near the horizon where the sun had just disappeared, was now black again. Spotted with more stars than he had ever seen before, this high up. Realization number four: Their helmets were clear again, his inability to see her face was because of the lack of light.

He could just barely make out a smile on her face, before a light flickered on inside her helmet, and then his.

"So you're from... Where exactly?"

"I... Couldn't say. Not exactly anyway."

"Less exactly, then?"

Another smile, and she raised her head, to indicate the sky behind, above, her.

"Out there?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I was born on a cruise liner somewhere outbound from Sirius, heading towards Betelgeuse... Or something like that. Hell. I'm not even really sure of when I was born."

"You don't know when you were born?"

"My parents... Well, lets just say that frequent and involuntary time travelers are kind of like that. We have trouble keeping track of dates..."

"Time travel too?"

"Yeah..." She paused and frowned. "What year is this anyway?"

"2014."

"Alright... My dad left Earth thirty three years ago. Mom left six months, or two years, before that, depending on who you ask. Dad came back the third time twenty years later, a couple of years after leaving and had been gone for fifteen months... And he was back again four years or so later and hasn't really left since."

"What about the first and second times?"

"The first was about two million or so years earlier, a few weeks after leaving... And he left again about two million years later - after spending a few years going mad - a couple of hours before he left in the first place. The second time was a couple of days or a few seconds after he left the second time, and he left again soon afterwards. Like you said it's a long, not to mention confusing, story."

"I'd bet."

"Anyway, I thought I asked you not to get me started about my dad."

"Right. Your mom then?"

"... My mom had me about six years after Dad leaving Earth the third time... Ten years later, for her, I was sixteen and she dropped me off at dad for the first time a couple of months later."

"Back up a bit? Ten or sixteen? Timetravel is confusing."

"You don't say? Both actually. There were a couple of cumulative screw ups with my daycare centers."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I got over it."

"I think I'd have trouble..."

"It really helped that I got to destroy the world a few days later."

"I thought you said you didn't?"

"Kind of, but I still felt sort of responsible. It all worked out okay, though. We had our happily ever after."

"And the world?"

"One's as good as the other, right? It's not like anyone noticed the difference the first time."

"The first time what?"

"The world was demolished."

"When did that happen?"

"Exactly."

"No, seriously."

"That I know of? 1981, I think. I don't know the exact date, but dad says it was a Thursday."

"A Thursday?"

"I didn't ask."

"Huh."

"Anything else you want to know, Mr Potter, before I get to continue my interrogation?"

"How old are you?"

"Not quite old enough to know better, but still young enough not to care. You?" She smiled that impish smile.

Harry smiled, and considered the absurdity of the situation. Here he was with a girl from another time and place, free falling through the atmosphere of the Earth into the heart of a storm, and they were discussing what?

"Well?" She prodded.

All is right with the world, Voldemort is dead. The Question - which the whole wizarding world knew the answer too by now, and never asked - was answered. "Thirty three." He said with a smile. He braced himself for the follow up question.

"Thirty three?" She was still smiling, always a good sign. "You don't look it."

"Ah." He smiled. "A bit of a backlash from my heroic deed." Backlash indeed, for Harry Potter had not aged a day since that fateful, final encounter with Tom Riddle, sixteen years earlier.

"Oh? Explain."

"See, Voldemort, that was what he called himself, the guy I killed, was out to become an immortal, and very powerful. To do that, he needed a sacrifice. Since I had been prophesied to kill him, he decided I would be a very suitable sacrifice. You know, ironic."

"Tricky things, prophecies." She said. "They tend to fulfill themselves..."

"Indeed."

"And?"

"The ritual was... Complex... And me and my friends managed to... Complicate it."

"Oh?"

"Instead of draining me of life and making him truly immortal, it did the reverse... Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"I don't think I'm immortal, but..."

"No?"

"I'm cursed, or blessed, depending on how you look at it, to be eternally young, but we were pretty certain I'm still mortal in all other regards... Hadn't really had a reason to find out, yet."

"Hmm." She looked... Curious?

"What?"

"Have you met Wowbagger?"

"Who?"

"Wowbagger, the Infinitely Prolonged? Or what about the Doctor?"

"I don't think I've ever come across anyone going by either of those names, no?"

"It's not important..." She looked around a bit. "What is it you do now, then, hero?"

Harry considered this for a few seconds, and then, noticing something looked down. The world didn't seem to be coming any closer, and the rush of air that had slowly been building up around them as they dropped deeper into the atmosphere had died down. Below them, the storm was now stretched from horizon to horizon.

Noticing him seeing this, she provided an answer. "I slowed us down a bit. Falling straight through a tropical storm is a bit intense for a first date."

"I thought you said you couldn't fly?"

"Not without help I can't." She winked.

"What magic is this?" He feigned an indignant reaction and hoped that she caught him returning the wink.

"The magic of a finely tuned Aperture Science and General Products Two-Twenty-Two Aye Pee Eff Gee Pee."

"A what?"

"Aye Pee Eff Pee Gee. All Purpose Field Generator slash Projector."

"A... ha? What's that?"

"A device." She paused, her brow furrowing a bit. "You know... You've been talking a lot about magic..."

He nodded. "And?"

"Can you show me a few tricks?"

Why not, all is right with the world and Voldemort is dead, and he'd just met a girl who was literally out of this world. "Right. Lets get back on solid ground first, though."

"The shuttle's on the way." She smiled again, lightning in the storm below them reflecting off of her helmet, she was still smiling and she was the most beautiful girl he had seen in a long time.

'Merlin help me', he thought, 'I've fallen for her.' A beat. 'Wait...'

She looked at him, confused, as he burst out laughing.

[Jonen C]

Random Frequent Flier Dent woke up.

This was a very gradual process.

It began with a dream, which she would later not recall.

As said dream involved an encounter with the dreadfully familiar fascist moon men in pepper pot power armor, it was probably better she didn't.

Just as the moon men had defeated the last of the capitosocialist robot resistance and were preparing to turn on their fungal former allies, Random slowly realized she was not the daring super spy temporarily caught in a wacky and easily escapable death trap to allow the insane leader of the moon men to explain his diabolical master plan while his minions prepared a bout of sonic torture.

The awareness slowly seeping into her weakening state of unconsciousness instead told her that while, yes, she was, indeed, trapped, but in entangled sheets rather than ropes and irons of a moon man torture pod.

Scratch that, there were irons.

Handcuffs.

Left wrist to a bed pole.

Where had those come from?

She did a quick check, feeling out the surface of the cuffs with her free hand and found they were a familiar pair - Brantis-Vogon escort agency model twenty - good make, many fun memories.

Right arm was, obviously, not restrained and neither were her legs - discounting the sheets.

She nicked a set of picks out of her storage buffer and undid the restraints with ease that came from well honed skills and much practice, all without ever opening her eyes.

She rubbed her wrist after putting the cuffs and picks back into the buffer, much better.

She settled back down into the bed, burrowing into the pillow and pulling up the covers, trying to assume a comfortable position and resume sleeping.

Pause - something was not quite right.

Whistling?

Downstairs?

Searching the bed with her right arm - empty, temperature indicates it was not a bit ago, smells like...

She smiled - fun times indeed.

Then she frowned, she would have much preferred it if he had stayed to cuddle, the bed was probably considered quite comfortable but it was not quite up to her usual standards - not without company anyway.

When he returned she'd give him such a...

Well, not really because any kind of action would mean she would have to move even closer to awake...

She'd hog all the sheets, though, that will be a fitting punishment for dereliction of duty.

There was a rustle of feathers somewhere above the bed.

She froze - suddenly wide awake.

The noise of feathers was still there, faintly - her senses in overdrive.

Somewhere behind the noise she barely noted the creak of stairs and clink of silverware, outside the room.

In the room, however, above her, the sound of feathers, a small heart beating, breathing - a subtle melody.

Bird.

The Bird?

A bird.

She had to know - small part of her preparing to override safety locks and pull her trusted old ZOM out of the buffer.

She cracked open an eye - wide awake and hating every moment of it - determined to assess the threat.

The bird was not, thankfully, black, and the mounting panic evaporated - for all the trouble the blasted thing had caused her and for all its vaunted power and abilities, it was vain - it would never change appearance.

Unfortunately, this new bird was a rather eye-grating mix of red and gold.

Early morning Random generally preferred not to expose her eyes to bright colors, particularly not when said eyes were already on overdrive - noticing and burning into memory everything in the room, the bird stands out almost painfully.

She wrenched her eye firmly shut and mumbled into her pillow, half falling back asleep despite herself, almost crashing down in the aftermath of the sudden spike of not quite panic.

"G'wy."

The bird, above, apparently took notice - there was a note, a musical trill, questioning and probing.

She could actually feel it hit her in more than just the sense of the vibrations of the sound.

There was a resonance to the bare hint of suggested melody, from her very center, the very core of her being.

It was... Pleasant? Not entirely unpleasant, in any case.

She clamped down on it hard, denying its influence before burrowing deeper into the sheets.

"Go. Away."

More annoyed now - stupid bird.

The door creaked open, he stepped inside.

"Pardon?"

He sounded entirely to chipper for the...

Almost reflexively she made the query and knew the exact time in more ways than could easily be described.

The sum was clear enough though - long before local noon equals way to early.

Neurons begun firing taking this into account and a conclusion was formed, slowly making it's way to her conscious mind.

First though, she had to deal with the issue at hand.

"Bird. Hate. Go way."

She thrust an arm up from out under the covers, stabbing an accusing finger into the air in the general direction of the bird.

He put a tray down on the bedside table while addressing the bird.

"Fawkes, you heard the lady."

There was a protesting trill, a rustle of feathers and... A whoosh of flames?

She could no longer hear the bird.

Transmat?

Or was it never there in the first place?

Magic - who cares.

She relaxed further, but inwardly she winced.

While she doesn't consider her ornithophobia to be a flaw, it was probably her most embarrassing 'not flaw'.

Well founded though it may be - and there was a matter of debate whether this was actually the case - it had her jumping at shadows whenever she was not on the top of her game and unable to control her instinctive reaction.

Meanwhile the conclusion parked outside the control center and rushed inside hollering and shouting to gain attention.

"I made us breakfast." he said as he sat down on the side of the bed.

It was with a dawning realization of horror she realized the man who took her to bed last night was one of them.

A morning person.

"'rait'r."

"Pardon?"

She tried to burrow deeper below the covers before realizing it was hopeless, deciding instead to face the problem head on.

She pulled the cover down to free her head and gave him glare number four - I'm angry at you and I know you probably don't know why but if you admit it you'll make me even angrier so you had better consider your next words very carefully.

He had a good poker face - or else didn't notice - wearing a silly grin and a bathrobe over a set of pajamas she was relatively certain
she hadn't seen before.

He remained quiet, yielding the initiative by refusing to be uncomfortable with the silence.

"There had better be coffee."

She began to disentangle herself from the covers and sheets.

"I'll have you know this is a traditional English breakfast. Besides that, all I have is tea."

"And what? Bacon, eggs, ham and spam?"

"Well. Bacon, eggs, sausage and fried veggies. Fresh out of spam, I'm afraid."

Mumbling, he added something about Danes that seemed laced with injective.

"You realize that the cooking is one of the aspects of my parents culture I'd rather avoid."

"Don't knock it."

"Well, if you're going to wake me up at this unlikely hour - "

"It's past nine!"

"- to feed me, I'm going to have to excuse myself for a bit. My memory is still a bit hazy but certain parts of my biology are reminding me last night was rather wet and thus I find myself with pressing needs that need addressing. Bathroom?"

"Down the hall."

"Thanks."

She slipped out of the bed - operative word slipped - remembering to brace herself from falling at the last moment while suppressing a growl about the lord of gravity, and noted - thankful for small mercies - that there was a warm, fuzzy carpet on the floor.

"You want a gown or something?"

She smiled as she saw he had turned half away, carefully not looking directly at her but keeping her well inside his peripheral vision - bloody Earthers and their mixed standards.

"Nah, I'm fine. Why?"

She stretched to give him a show, wincing slightly at muscles sore not from last nights activities but rather from sleeping under a full, Earth normal gravity.

"Guh, I'm out of practice, though."

"Godson coming over at ten and I'm afraid all of what we were wearing last night is in the wash."

He mumbled something unintelligible about overenthusiastic elves.

She blinked and checked - a small nagging feeling dissipating now that she realized what it was - her buffer was short several items.

As she was already accessing it, she took the moment to grab a spare towel and her small overnight bag.

If he was in any way surprised at her pulling those two items literally out of thin air, he didn't show it.

"Huh. Was kind of wondering about that. Not a problem, though. I'll take a shower and join you at the table downstairs? Breakfast in bed isn't really my thing."

He shrugged and stepped aside to let her past.

"If that is more to the lady's liking. Mind the umbrella stand in the hallway on your way down, though. It likes to trip people."

"You'd best tell it to behave, or I'll trip it right back."

***

Meanwhile, elsewhere in London.

The Ministry of Magic had redecorated a few years earlier, reorganizing and modernizing.

Part of the modernization had been a finalization of the separation between the government and the judicial branches - the DMLE had received new offices in a separate building - a necessity as they, and perhaps more importantly the rest of the ministry, had finally expanded beyond the capability of the old facilities to contain.

To call the separation complete was a bit much, though. The number of dedicated floos and other assorted means of magical transportation between the two facilities actually made the new DMLE offices more accessible from the renovated ministry facilities than before.

As such the separation was mostly symbolic, but the new facilities were well received, overall - everyone came together to agree on that they were crap and the money could have been better spent elsewhere and that a lot of stupid decisions had gone into the construction and the layout had been drawn up by an idiot and so on and so forth.

To a young, up and coming Auror in a hurry, though, the new building was both a dream and a nightmare.

It was certainly easier to navigate, and the Auror Office was separated enough from the rest of the DMLE that you didn't have to make your way through the relatively crowded main floors or offices.

The nightmare was the long, winding corridors and other security precautions such as manned checkpoints and doors requiring pass cards which logged access, all of which had seemed to be good ideas when suggested but then proved a pain when implemented.

The young Auror in question had two mugs of steaming - thank magic for that one - brew and a box of fresh baked goods.

She was in a hurry because she was late, and her annoyance was spiked from having to bribe her way through two checkpoints by sacrificing some of the baked goods in the interest of expedience - or more specifically the fact that she could have easily gotten past just as fast on just her charm, had she not been carrying the baked goods.

But the last obstacle was behind her now, a corridor of anonymous offices ahead and noone, especially no nosy superiors with opinions about hours, was in sight - perfect.

She pushed open a door which was slightly less anonymous than the others - a pinned on sign announcing that in here resided the "Lovely Angels" - a nickname pinned on her and her partner by the muggleborn wizards in the recently established technomagic/cybermancy support office - and a caricature of said two "Angels" busting down a door.

"Morning."

She grunted a greeting to the sole occupant of the room before shouldering the door closed and carefully dumping her cargo on her desk before shedding the duty robes onto the back of a chair.

Another complaint on the new facilities was the fact that the temperature controls had apparently been designed in and for Tierra del Fuego - cool in the winter and unbearably hot in the summer.

"Gin. Running a little late?"

Her partner - like her dressed in the "new" uniforms based on those of the non-magical police, her own duty robes hung over the back of her chair - had her feet on the desk as she leafed through a folder.

"Don't start Lupin. Just. Don't."

Tea was shared and the box was pilfered as the younger auror attacked the small pile of paperwork on her own desk.

"Not like you missed anything important... Bossman did a grade O rant about the importance of proper procedure," - here she not only imitated voice of the head of the auror office, but slid into a reasonably accurate, if exaggerated, impression of his face as well - "the newbies looked as cute as ever and the tea elf is on strike. Again."

The box found itself back on the younger aurors desk as the older auror raised her paper cup in salute to her partner providing a vital service.

"Bloody union... How's Teddy?"

"Good, I suppose. He fire called last night saying he was going out with Fred and George and the rest of the New Marauders, and wouldn't be back until after I'd gone to work."

"What kind of man names his twin daughters after himself and his deceased brother anyway?"

"Your..." Glare number Five - Finish that sentence and die. "... Fred Weasley. What confounds me is that Alicia let him."

"He can be convincing when he wants to. Man's got issues."

"You're one to talk."

"Don't. Seriously."

"Just saying, is all."

"I'm medicated, I'm stable and I'm not currently possessed by the spirit of a dark lord out to conquer the world. Brill."

The older auror made a questioning noise as she once again reached for the box, only to have it snatched away with a glare.

"Sometimes you just have to stop and appreciate the little things in life, you know." The younger auror sighed as she grabbed the last pastry from the box, looking in disbelief at the empty box before sighing again. "Bugger. Just... My life's being a... Never mind."

The pastry was eliminated with ruthless efficiency, the older auror returned to leafing through a folder while sipping her tea.

"Isn't today..." the younger auror trailed off.

"Yeah. Was kind of trying not to bring that up. You know what with Ted spending the weekend with... His godfather..."

"I'm over it. Enough small talk." Dumping the now slightly more organized load of folders onto the side of the desk. "What's the case?" Indicating the folder in the older aurors hands.

"The Islington Fliers..."

"Cor!" The younger auror flew out of her seat.

"Now hear me out!"

"That case has been sitting in the unresolved pile since before... It can't be solved." Her arms were flailing.

"Hear me out! Silence I say!"

"Why'd we get stuck with... You picked it didn't you." She sank back into her seat, rubbing her brow.

"Not like you were there to stop me - we've got these things called working hours, you see, and if you don't keep to them you'll be punished. Besides, Boss thinks it'll do you some good to practice your people skills."

"Baggins is a crazy old fool, probably just imagining things if he's not making them up completely. I mean we have how many reports, spread out over several years, not a trace of magic in the entire area and no one else: muggle, squib or wizard has ever seen a thing. Didn't the healers all agree it was stress or something? Hallucinations?"

There was a disbelieving silence accompanied with a bemused look.

"What? I read reports!"

"Well, I think you'll be surprised to note the recent developments then."

"... Recent developments?"

"Old Squib named Took, lives in a little hamlet out in West country, snapped a picture of a couple that match Baggins description. Says they've been flying around out there for years but they've never bothered anyone so he didn't bother reporting it until he caught them on a muggle camera. We've even got an address. The file is... Was on your desk."

The small pile of folders had fallen from their carefully calculated position on the edge of the desk into a strategically positioned waste bin.

The younger auror affected a surprised and innocent expression, then groaned as she got out of her seat to pull them out, sitting back down while leafing through the papers to locate the file in question.

"Paperwork, my old nemesis." She located the relevant file and skimmed through it. "So we're paying them a visit, then?"

"Beats standing around all day waiting for something to happen. Boss thinks it's probably just another family that went underground back during the wars poking their heads out of their hole. Just pop in, ask around a bit... Tell 'em straight and welcome them back into the wizarding world and call it a day, and if there's any trouble who better than us to field it?"

"Trouble? Hah! 'tis a bloody newbie job, 'swat 'tis." She was reviewing the file more closely now and was not impressed - but it still was the best lead on a case almost as old as her...

Well, most of her anyway.

"You'd prefer walking the beat in Diagon? 'Coz if tha..."

"Right. Cottington. When do we leave?"

"Grab your kit and we'll leave right now."

[DrMckay]

Interesting story. Props for mentioning Wowbagger He's one of my favorite Hitchiker's Guide Characters, and I'm using him in a story of my own. Good luck with it.