AN: So. Hello. I didn't read Harry Potter until college, so I am certainly not an expert. But I just re-listened to them and have been steadily listening to the Potterless Podcast for the past couple of years, so I think I have a good grasp on the basic world of Harry Potter. I haven't read Cursed Child, but I read the Wikipedia plot summary and had barely any idea what was happening. This fic is placed in 2021, after the events of Cursed Child (I think), and hopefully I won't have to deal with any random plot holes or time jumps. Please enjoy! This is not meant to be anything official, just something fun and magical and library-oriented.
Meg's thumb was bleeding. She had a bad habit of picking at it when she was nervous, and this moment definitely applied. She had been the only person in this waiting room for twenty minutes, having arrived far too early for her appointment. Actually, she didn't think anyone was in her building. The room was so quiet that she could hear the fluorescent lights buzzing audibly.
It was nearly 10 o'clock, so she put her book away (The Scorpio Races by Maggie Steifvater, her third read-through; she needed an old friend today) and pulled out the manila folder containing her resume, cover letter, and letters of recommendation. The fact that this interview was in-person and not on Zoom was miraculous. Seeing another human being in person? Incredible. She just hoped she didn't come across as overeager.
She had really expected Scotland to be completely magical, but most of it, like this completely normal waiting room, was just as ordinary as any office building back home in Boston. The scenery was truly incredible, but that brought her no joy today. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, reminding her to pull it out and silence it. A text from her mom popped up on the lock screen: Good luck in the interview today, sweetie! You'll be great. Heart emoji. Meg cleared the notification and stared at the background a moment too long, a photo of her with one arm slung around an extremely hot bearded man, her grin broad, his smile forced. Ugh. Stupid Andy. She'd have to change it after the interview. New job, new me, new . . . lock screen photo?
The blood on her thumb had beaded to a quavering red pearl, and she grabbed a tissue from the table next to her chair and dabbed the excess away. She stuck her thumb in her mouth, and-- of course-- the door to the office opened. Meg yanked her thumb away from her face and tried to looked pleasant and professional at the same time. She sprang to her feet and smoothed out the skirt of her thrifted interview suit, looked up, and locked eyes with a tall, lanky older woman. Her eyes were alert, her expression pinched, her shoulders slightly hunched in her fitted pinstripe dress.
"Margaret Carlisle?" she called to the room, as if there were a queue of people waiting.
"That's me!" said Meg, her voice too bright.
"You're American," the woman observed, her voice surprised. It was not a question.
There was a beat before Meg responded, forcing her smile not to falter. "Um, yes. Originally from Boston, Massachusetts. I told a little of my story in the email I sent?"
"Ah, I see," said the woman in a tone that suggested that she had not seen this email. "Well, come along, Margaret."
"Oh, I go by Meg. Like from Little Women." That comment usually got at least a smile. Not this time.
"Meg. Hmm." The woman gestured awkwardly to the room behind her. "Do come in."
The two women entered the office and sat across from one another. Meg expected a handshake, but was not offered one. "Here are my papers," she said, sliding the folder across the desk.
The tall woman donned a very small pair of spectacles. I should get a pair of those, Meg thought to herself with a chuckle. Was chuckling the right move? No, it was not. The woman silenced her with her stern green eyes. Meg took to examining her still-bleeding thumb.
