All worthwhile places, it seemed, didn't open before 10am. Used to waking up at early dawn and stumbling into his day before the sun was up, 10am seemed impossibly late to Harry. Besides, his current mission required him up and about between seven and eight. The fish tank he'd been instructed to frequent for the last handful of days lay tucked into the basement floor of a department store, almost an hour's walk from his hotel. Walking the streets, he drowned anew every morning.
Sighing, Harry took in the covers hiding away the stalls in front of Krutenau market hall. The market lay dormant. Harry grimaced. He'd made an effort to ensure his day would be a useful one. He'd planned to browse Krutenau, then go for another lunch with Malfoy. In order to make it an interesting – or at least decent enough – lunch he'd even thought of some questions for Malfoy. This time, Harry would try to steer them to a proper restaurant, but if Malfoy insisted on the blasted supermarket again, he could do that too. At least he knew what to order now: cappuccino and an almond croissant.
Glancing around and spotting nobody, Harry huddled into a corner, shielding himself from most of the wind and the spraying rain before casting a subtle warming charm and letting his back fall against a stone wall. The wall was cracked, covered in graffiti and greying pieces of gum. With a shiver, Harry dropped his head against the chilled stone, right next to a picture of a brightly-sprinkled donut on fire.
The covered-up stall closest to him sold a variety of colourful earrings resembling dried pieces of fruit, he remembered. The one next to it sold mainly black and white street photography of Paris, an abundance of glowing Eiffel towers. The broad wooden steps leading to the market hall now lead to a metal gate, fastened with a fist-sized lock. Harry cast a Tempus – small enough to fit into his palm, in the spirit of subtlety. It was just after eight. Hours until he had to be at Malfoy's. Though, really, he should be at the boutique earlier than 1pm. However long he needed to convince a prickly Malfoy to join him for lunch shouldn't have to eat into their lunch hour. He should be there by 12.30 at the latest. 12.00 sharp, possibly.
Deciding there was too much time to kill between now and then, Harry blinked up into the clouds, winced, and made to hurry back to his hotel. He could go for a nice warm shower. A bath maybe, even. He could spend all the time in the world charming his clothes, making them warmer and actually weatherproof – just because he wasn't good at these kinds of charms, didn't mean he couldn't get there if he applied himself.
Harry frowned into a puddle when he caught himself thinking of other charms he could subject his clothes to. He could try and make his jeans fit. Catch the loose loops of knit on the left arm of his jumper and straighten them out. He could adjust the fit of his jacket too, make it narrower, shorter or longer, change the fabric, or just transfigure the whole thing.
Back at Grimmauld, Harry had stuck every picture of Sirius he had found in the depths of the house to his bedroom walls. In the one that had made it to his nightstand, Sirius was wearing a deep green leather jacket, supple and soft looking, the collar lined with warm wool. Harry had already grown the beard he'd liked best on Sirius. He might as well stretch to the jacket.
He was bracing himself for the flood of rain that would claim him as soon as he stepped away from his partially-shielded corner, when a tall woman in an overly large puffy coat and a leopard print hat hurried past him and towards the gate. Clamping an umbrella covered in sunflowers as well as a travel mug under her armpit, she was fiddling with a clattering bunch of keys. Having spotted Harry tucked into his corner, she peered at him from underneath chunky turquoise glasses. Recognising her from the shop of miniatures, Harry smiled at her.
"Entrez alors. Il ne sert à rien de rester sous la pluie." The tall stranger waved a gloved hand between Harry and the gate, then held up her keys and jingled them.
YOU ARE READING
Cut From the Sky
Fanfiction"I'm stuck in a time loop, reliving November 2nd. This is the 111th time I've lived through today." Draco stilled. His moody eyes, the tension in his hands where he gripped onto his umbrella, the careful mask of blankness flickering over his face...
