Wizarding One Shots

S I R I U S • B L A C K

How to Offend American Witches and Alienate Your Work Colleagues.

"S C O T L A N D   Y A R D   W I L L   B E
receiving assistance from INTERPOL. In other news—"

Sirius was watching the muggle news on the Telly when the owner of the Dark Horse Pub & Inn shut it off.

He sighed. He'd really wanted to watch that.

The flames flickering from the hearth gave the dark room some sense of light, even though it wasn't much. It's dark grey walls didn't help either.

"INTERPOL is a joke. Their agents can't make arrests, they don't carry guns, and they rarely leave the office!" He ranted to the three people there excluding Sirius. Thank fuck he was out of spitting distance as it seemed like the three ducks were really getting it.

It was a bitter cold night and Jerry's was the only pub that still stoked fires in the winter. So no one was in a position to complain about the old sod throwing a tantrum. Jerry didn't give a shit about something called "air pollution," for which Sirius was glad.

"Why'd you reckon they'd even ask for their help then? Go on, mate." Drunk number one challenged, sloshing his beer on his shoes.

"I reckon it's because the Yard's gone to shit. Can't go no lower." Number two readily gave his opinion, leaning forward like they were conspiring. In reality, they couldn't be any louder.

He found it interesting, listening to the logic of non magic folk. Of course, these chaps were all gloriously sloshed and they'd never guess the reason behind these 'random terrorist attacks.'

Even if they did by some miracle, the Ministry would surely remedy that in a heartbeat. It's amazing what a few memory charms can do.

Before his thoughts could get out of hand, the pub door opened and closed with a loud bang.

"Sorry about that, the wind's a little strong." A man apologized before helping the woman next to him out of her thick trench coat.

"You the Williams's?" The owner asked.

The woman answered him with a curt yes.

"She look familiar to you, Jeff?" One of the drunk guys asked the other, making the woman stiffen where she stood. Shit, she thought, trying to calm herself down and ignore them.

The man wrapped his arm around her shoulders protectively. "If you don't mind, please keep your assumptions to yourself."

"So it is her!" Drunk number three, Sirius thought his name was Marvin, called out with the glee of someone intoxicated and in danger. In other words, without a single hufflefuck.

This time it was her turn to calm him down.

"They aren't worth it, Roger." She whispered quietly as the drunks continued their tirade. The woman started leading him away towards the room they would stay when someone was dumb enough to continue talking.

"She that American that got held hostage in Iraq?"

Roger gave her one look. That look where the one corner of his mouth tugged down and he rolled his eyes to the back of his skull until he could see his own spine. The look of pure, unadulterated irritation.