The Murder In St. John

2. Papaya and Coffee

Hermione stepped into her shop at quarter past seven, a near hour before most of the main road would be open for business. Though she could see a smoke stack coming from Molly's bakery just up the road, signaling to the town that this morning's croissants were being made. Lavender's shop had opened its windows for the warm May air, letting out the fine smell of her exotic coffee spill onto the streets.

"Coach, no," Hermione whined, kicking away the ball Coach had dropped at her feet. She was bent over her books, struggling to find the imbalance in supplies when the bell on her door jingled.

"How's my future sister-in-law?"

Hermione groaned, dropping her head to her hands. If there was anything to dislike about the Weasleys, because they truly were a kind bunch, it was their insistent need on being utterly delightful in the morning. All the time.

"And who have you vowed me off to?" Hermione asked, lifting her nose when she smelt the delightful smell of baked goods mixed with chocolate.

"Reckon Percy would leave his button nose bird for you if asked." Charlie tossed a treat to Coach and sauntered over to lean against the counter just in front of Hermione's desk. It was truly, a one-man show.

"No thanks." Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust and lifted her to-go mug of coffee to her lips. It was Folger's, and bland, and felt an awful lot like cheating on Lavender.

"You know, Fred told me something rather interesting this morning." Charlie drawled, holding the carton box away from Hermione when she made a grab for it.

"That sounds unlikely," Hermione responded, setting her coffee to the side. She really wasn't sure it was worth it to finish. "Also, how did you already see Fred, they open the shop late on Wednesdays?" Hermione asked, eyeing the box that Charlie was now holding protectively on the counter.

"Oh, I had breakfast round his." Charlie shrugged, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "He said that George didn't get home til half past eleven. Which was three hours after we left Ron's, peculiar don't you think?" Charlie raised a challenging eyebrow, a Weasley trademark it seemed.

"Well he dropped me off quarter past nine, so I can't fathom where he was." Hermione shrugged, furrowing her own brows, because well what did George do in a town that closed down at ten every night?

"That's still an hour and a half after leaving Ron's, where were the two of you?" Charlie asked, pulling the box back as Hermione inched her fingers towards it.

"You should be a detective Charlie, you are remarkably good at this." Hermione rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair defeated.

"If you tell me, I'll give you a chocolate croissant." Charlie sang, opening the box to reveal one, large, still steaming chocolate croissant. The chocolate had already drizzled out the edges, just begging to be eaten.

"The Creevey's dog got into some poison, so he stuck around and waited for me to wrap that up, and took me home." Hermione shrugged, before lunging forward to grasp the croissant only for Charlie to rip the box away, nearly spilling it over.

"I don't believe you," Charlie replied, dancing out of the way as Hermione rounded her desk, reaching for the box. Coach began bouncing happily, barking alongside them. "Still doesn't make sense he wasn't home another hour after that," Charlie stated, as if it was obvious he caught her in a lie.

Though he very much had not.

"Why don't you go and ask him yourself?" Hermione demanded, pointing behind him where George was heaving up his garage door. Dressed in jeans and a tee shirt. Hermione used Charlie's distraction to yank the box from his hands and hurried to plop herself back down in her desk chair.