Reparations

vii

It's a disturbing feeling to be waking up on a Saturday morning with a clear head, and it takes Harry a moment to remember that he has Rodriguez to thank for it.

Having felt the rough edge of Molly Weasley's tongue after missing last week's family dinner, Ron had insisted on a work-free Sunday, case or no case. Rodriguez, it turns out, drives a hard bargain; the upshot being that Ron now has a Saturday morning action meeting, and Friday night drinks have been shunted to Saturday night.

Which, Harry can't help feeling, is inherently wrong somehow, to the extent that it sends his whole Saturday rhythm out of whack.

He's usually perfectly content to wander around the house on weekends, and can always find a whole load of pointless activities in which to immerse himself, but not today. Heaving a restless sigh, Harry rests his chin on the smooth grain of his dining table, arms dangling inelegantly at his sides.

Ron's in his meeting. Hermione has seized upon the excuse to work and is surely buried under a flurry of paperwork in her office. Cecile's working a double shift in Dark Arts Reversals. Nev'll be busy; he does his briskest trade at weekends. And Gin... Harry drags himself slowly upright as the thought occurs to him. Ginny works in Chem. Dep at weekends, doesn't she?

And it's not like it has anything to do with Draco, because he won't be there. Obviously. That said, Harry thinks as he ties his shoelaces and pulls on a thin coat, he can't help but wonder what exactly Draco gets up to at weekends. Perhaps Ginny will know.

The morning air is fresh and damp with the night's rainfall; the soft breeze stirring Harry's hair from his forehead as he walks slowly to the hospital, hands shoved in pockets, enjoying the silence of grey sky and rain-slicked pavements.

As he steps into the warm, bustling foyer, the world switches abruptly from muted hush to a shock of colour and noise.

"You need to go home and get some sleep, Mr Cameron." Cecile's voice makes Harry turn, and sure enough, there she is, one hand on the arm of a distressed, ashen-faced man as she steers him toward the nearest floo connection. "She's stable. The best thing you can do for her right now is come back when you've had some rest, ok?"

When the man disappears into the flames, Harry calls out to her and she whirls around. The dark circles underneath her eyes make him wince, but she smiles to see him.

"I think someone needs to take their own advice," he says as she fights her way over to his side.

"Yeah, well... I've still got eight hours left," she sighs, pushing back the blonde strands that straggle around her face. "It took half the night to stabilize that guy's wife... she's a curse-breaker. We don't know what it was that backfired on her, but it was extremely nasty. Stasis spells wipe me out."

"You love it. You're a glutton for punishment."

Cecile grins wearily. "I can still do this, though," she points out, and casts the wet fish hex with barely a twitch of her wand. Harry shivers and scowls. "That's good coming from you, anyway. What are you doing here on a Saturday? Did Malfoy need a consult?"

"No," he says, throwing a non-verbal stinging hex that Cecile just about manages to step out of the way of. "I'm bored. Never a dull moment in Chem. Dep."

Someone calls Cecile's name, and she turns, standing on tiptoes and looking around. "I've said it before, Harry, and I'll say it again. You're a very strange person." She turns and smirks at him. "I've got to run."

"Try to stay conscious!" he calls after her. It's difficult to see, as she melts back into the throng, but Harry thinks she gives him the finger.