Reducto Records
September 18
Eveningtime


It was his day off, and he was quite thankful for it. Flynn’s light brown hair hadn’t been touched, and therefore was sticking up in any direction it pleased. Today, he was dressed comfortably, wearing a slim-fitting button up shirt, some nice brown slacks, and snug slip on shoes. A couple inches of ankle were visible, and it was evident that his socks were far from matching; one was green and fuzzy, while the other was blue with purple horizontal stripes. Straps that were attached to a messenger bag were resting over his shoulder. His slightly effeminate face was showing the first signs of stubble. On his day off from work, Flynn could not be bothered to be clean-shaven.

He felt like spending money, but not on anything too extravagant. He wanted something simple, that he could use over and over again. Flynn was in the market for an owl, but he had yet to find one with a personality and look that he approved of. Being a music lover, he figured it couldn’t hurt to see if any new records were out, or if any of the sales associates had any recommendations for him. Flynn was not a particularly picky person when it came to music, and would listen to just about anything and find a reason to enjoy it.

Reducto Records had to be closing soon, so the healer knew that he had to hurry. He rushed down the street, careful not to bump his bag, or jiggle it too much. Once he arrived at the shop, Flynn looked to make sure that they were still open. To his pleasure, they were.  He flung the door open and stepped in dramatically, only to have the door swing back and hit his bag. A loud yelp was heard.

“Oh Henry!” Flynn exclaimed dramatically, pulling a small creature out of his bag. It was a weird mixture of grey and black in color, with wiry fur and a mousey face. “My poor little puppy.” He began to cradle his dog, and check to make sure Henry was not suffering from any injuries. “You may have some brain damage, but no more than usual, love.” He cooed, scratching what was apparently a dog, behind it’s ears.

Most everyone else had finished up and gone home for the day.  Jacoba had the shortest commute (all of 15 steps) of all of her coworkers so she'd fallen back in the habit of staying for closing.  It had been an easy habit to fall back into, especially after the last few months of finishing work somewhere around three in the morning.

The afternoon had been relatively quiet and Jacoba turned her attentions to tallying the day's totals and getting the day's deposit ready to leave at Gringott's.  Janis Joplin's[1] raspy and unmistakable voice rang out from the shop's record player.  It was a nice change of pace from the catchy little children's album Dennis and Ricki had put together and had insisted on playing all afternoon.  For little Colin's benefit, they claimed.  Jacoba was convinced they did it to delight on the obvious torture of the shop's employees.  The Unicorn Comes To Town and One, Two, Stuck In The Floo were charming.  In small doses.  Doses that lasted only fifteen minutes, at most, not all day.  But, at least now the doses could be washed down with Janis. 

The little shop bell dutifully rang out as a late customer came through the door.  Jacoba had installed the bell shortly after she was hired as a feeble attempt to prevent someone from sneaking up on her or any number of the shop's resident squibs.  Between the squibs and the muggle, Reducto wasn't the most popular Diagon venue amongst some subsets of the wizarding community.  An ill-meaning witch or wizard could always outsmart the bell without thinking, if they knew it was there but, if they didn't, it gave Jacoba some sort of head's up.  It wasn't much.  But it was better than nothing. 

But, the bell's chiming was unnecessary, given the racket that accompanied the latest customer.  Jacoba watched, grinning as the fellow gathered his, and his guinea pig, or puppy's, bearings.  "That door is tricky," Jacoba offered.  The last few months back in Berlin had strengthened the woman's accent.  "You're the fourth customer it has managed to assault.  I keep telling the owner we should put a 'Warning!  Door Bites!' sign but he doesn't believe me."

1.	Me & Bobby McGee

It didn’t take long for him to comfort Henry, but he looked up at Jacoba with a giant grin on his face, the type that came naturally. Dimples appeared in his cheeks, and his light brown eyes crinkled up. His first impression of Jacoba was a positive one. She was certainly a beautiful lady, though she looked a bit young. Age wasn’t too much of an issue for this healer, however. “No worries, beautiful. The door bit my dog, and no permanent damage has been done that wasn’t already there.”  He began to take a look at some records, though every now and then he glanced up at Jacoba. He didn’t recognize her, though he felt like he should have. Granted, he hadn’t been in the record shop in quite awhile.

The music that was playing was unfamiliar, and he was certain that he had never heard this song. “Oi, who’s playing?” He asked, referring to Janis Joplin’s bluesy, folksy rock. “Is she new?” Flynn had never listened much to muggle music, so it was completely new and unfamiliar to him. He enjoyed this singer’s voice, and he would have gladly listened to more of her, or to more similar to her if it was readily available. “Her voice is bloody beautiful.” That wasn’t saying much, coming from Flynn. He wasn’t particularly picky. If Dubstep or Snoop Dog were playing, he probably would have thought it was

Henry started to yap, his voice distorted and raspy.

"Shh, Henry. Don't embarrass me in front of German women."

"I was kidding," Jacoba admitted, with an amused smirk.  "You're the only one it has gotten."  She couldn't quite tell if he'd figured that out.  Judging by first impressions alone, the fellow seemed the type to take most everything in stride.  Finding it seemed somehow warranted, Jacoba offered the dog an apologetic grin before taking a few steps away from the fellow and his Benji-wannabee.  Some customers didn't like the ever hovering helper types.  Those that did usually offered some sort of invitation. 

Like, asking about the music playing. 

"New?"  Jacoba chuckled and shook her head.  If wizards only knew what they were missing.  "Nah, she's not new.  Been dead almost forty years, in fact."  Had it already been that long?  "She's pretty classic.  Not Beethoven classic, of course - just ..."  Jacoba shrugged.  "Janis Joplin.  Straight from the hippie era.  Died long before her time."  Jacoba beckoned the fellow to follow as she led the way towards the ever-growing muggle collection.  Vinyl was making a comeback in the muggle world which was making stocking muggle music at Reducto much easier.  Newly pressed vinyl was actually attainable and more and more used record shops were providing a source for less expensive albums. 

"There are some more recent musicians with similar sounds.  But, knowing Joplin will win you brownie points amongst crowds you want to find yourself in." 

Jacoba blushed, slightly, but extended a hand towards the fellow.  "Jacoba," she offered.  "Or, the German woman works, too."  The Muggle.  The name she was born with.  She'd been called any number of things over the years.  "Anything particular I can help you find?"

“The only one it’s gotten? Well then, it probably couldn’t resist my dashing good looks and charming smile.” He pointed at his cheeks, “See, dimples! Ladies love the dimples… And apparently so do doors.” Flynn’s face fell when he heard that Janis Joplin was dead. “That’s a shame. I enjoy her music. What did she die of? Dragonpox? Werewolf attack?” Flynn here was under the impression that Janis Joplin had been a witch, but just one who had never lived long enough to become famous or well known. He was vaguely confused by the mention of hippies, but tried to ignore it. She had said it so matter-of-factly, that Flynn didn’t want to appear stupid by not know what the hell she was talking about.

“Well, Jacoba. My name is Flynn Hughes.” He took her hand and shook it gently, “And I must say, you’re quite tall.” Standing at 6’1, he was only a few inches taller than her. “You’re taller than my father, I must say.” His voice was cheerful, and nothing he said was meant as an insult, but it was merely an observation of his. “Have you been working here long, Jacoba?” Flynn was just going to repeat her name in conversation as much as he possibly could, until he memorized it.

The healer glanced around the store, “Well, could you help me find some more of this… Joplin?” He enjoyed her sound, and he would enjoy playing her music at home, while he makes potions and tends to his plants, and tries to train his cat to collect the mail from any owls that may show up.  “Her voice is pretty bloody beautiful, and I can’t believe more of us haven’t heard her before.” He paused, “But maybe they have, and they’re just holding out on me.”

"It is a smart door," Jacoba chuckled, shaking her head slightly.  This was a crazy, ridiculous conversation - by muggle and wizarding standards.  "We've taught it well.  I know to keep an eye out for anyone it happens to close on." 

Did Janis Joplin die of Dragonpox?  Jacoba turned towards Flynn and considered him closely, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or not.  Clearly, he was one of those wizards who was largely oblivious to the muggle world - that helped the confusion make sense.  But, still.  If this Flynn was so oblivious to the wizarding world, would he even be able to grasp her real cause of death?  The wizarding world had to have similar issues with substance abuse, right?  "No.  No werewolf."  Jacoba let out a sigh and shrugged then tentatively offered:  "she died of a heroin overdose?  It's a drug.  Like ... I don't know.  I don't know if you all have an equivalent.  But, she was twenty-seven.  It was pretty tragic." 

Joplin had died decades before Jacoba had been born.  But, for kids like Jacoba who'd never quite fit into the mainstream, there was a certain camaraderie that came from artists like Joplin or Hendrix.  "So far, I've only managed to track down Kozmic Blues Band and this album," she pointed towards the speaker just as the track switched over to Mercedes Benz with the quiet swish of a needle across open vinyl.  "It was released after her death.  Classic album, though." 

"Runs in the family; my brother's quite a bit taller."  Jacoba was accustomed to the 'tall' comment; she got it regularly enough.  "We're all kind of on the leggy side.  Hopefully not too tall, though."  Some men were intimidated by taller women, especially if the man happened to be shorter.  "I started here back in October - but only part time at first.  I took a little break the last few months.  Some personal stuff came up."

“It’s a bloody intelligent door, it is.” Flynn paused. He wondered what other muggle music was out there that was also good, and he was very interested in it. He was oblivious to the basics of muggle society, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious. Flynn was merely too lazy to go out of his way to figure out how muggles lived in society, let alone small details such as famous musicians and actors and other muggles involved in the performance arts.  He was surprised to hear that she died of a drug overdose, though overdosing was essentially poisoning the body. “Ah, too bad she wasn’t a witch. She would have been healed in no time.”

“You should show me more music like… This—“ He motioned towards nothing in particular, though Flynn definitely was referring to the lovely Janis Joplin. “It’s just what I’m looking for. My plants will love it.” He insisted, “And Mildred too.” He was talking to Jacoba as if she already knew everything about his life. He was not giving her details that would explain anything that he was saying about his plants or his cat, and it was enough to confuse anyone.   

Flynn looked her up and down. “Hm. Yes, I’d say you’re leggier than most.” He agreed, “Nothing long with being leggy, I’ve heard that long legs are sexier.” He said as-a-matter-of-factly. Flynn was not intimidated by taller women. In fact, he didn’t care too much about height in general. After all, his closet friend was a short fellow by the name of Declan. “You have a brother? Does he listen to Janis Joplin too?” 

Jacoba hesitated briefly, under the guise of giving the albums in the bin careful consideration.  If Janis Joplin had been a witch, she could have been healed in no time?  To Jacoba, it seemed such a simple and, well, naive assessment.  If Jacoba had been suspicious this Flynn was oblivious to the muggle world and muggle culture before, she was now certain he had almost no experience with muggle adolescents and teenagers.  But, it had been such a casual, even simple reply that it clearly begged a response that matched it.  "I suppose.  Wizards probably could have treated that overdose."  But, Jacoba knew as well as anyone, it wasn't that simple.  Magic or no.

But, focusing on the lighthearted, music side of things was probably much more conducive to sales. Jacoba turned her attention back to the bins and started flipping through the records.  "Well, Joplin really represents a specific era in Muggle history and culture.  There's no shortage of similar sounds in the sixties and seventies.  You could also follow the line back to the musicians that influenced her if you like the bluesy sound.  Or, explore those she influenced and you'll find more of the modern, independent artists.  To get you started, I'd recommend ..."

Jacoba grew quiet as she flipped through the racks.  The earlier stuff was under represented amongst the records she'd already stocked the shop with.  But she tugged three from the bins and beckoned Flynn to follow as she crossed the shop to the record player.  She played parts of songs from each of them in turn; a crash course in muggle music - at least, one small facet of it.[1].  "Of course, there's lots of good music beyond this stuff, too.  Muggle music's a lot more diverse, I find."

"I'm sure your plants and your-"  Bugger.  What were the chances this Mildred was just a girlfriend?  Or, a wife.  Or, she supposed, his mother.  "- Second half will love it.  If not, just say you got it at that other record store across the street."  Jacoba settled herself on a stool by the record player and gestured an invitation to Flynn he was welcome to do the same.

Which, just in case this Mildred he just told her about was a wife or girlfriend, a casual approach to his compliment of long legs was probably best.  "Yes.  I've heard that rumor, too.  I've never given it much thought."  She glanced down at her own legs, pointing her toes as if giving them a casual self assessment.  Of course, she wasn't about to provide an assessment so, with a shrug and a grin, she turned back to the fellow. 

"Yes.  My brother goes to Hogwarts," Jacoba confirmed, openly.  "I don't know for sure but I seriously doubt he listens to Joplin, though.  It's not quite his style.  She's a bit too ... I'm not quite sure how to put it.  He's a bit too straight edged.  More particular.  We're really not that much alike."

1.	If you're curious, #1; #2 and #3

He followed Jacoba around and listened at the three pieces that she played. He had to admit, the second one was very catchy. Flynn simply could not help shuffling awkwardly to the music without really ‘dancing’. “I want to buy that.” He said. He knew he wanted to buy all of them, since he honestly was not too picky when it came to music. “The second one. I love it—nay, I adore it.” She could have played dubstep and he would have loved it. A sale was a sale though. Flynn felt like he needed to show up more often, if not to get music like this, but to see this beautiful saleslady’s adorable face.

When Jacoba said that Mildred was his other half, Flynn could not help but laugh. It wasn’t just a simple giggle, a polite chuckle—but full on, raging laughter. It was the contagious sort of laugh that radiated from the center of his stomach. He wrapped his arms around his torso and bent over, his body shaking with the sheer amusement of what this pretty young German woman had told him. “Mil-Mildred? My significant other?” He could barely get his words out between fits of laughter, let alone breathe properly. His face was beginning to turn red.

When Henry started barking and freaking out over Flynn laughing, it only made it worse. Every little small thing was suddenly extremely hilarious, even if it would never be amusing by any sane person’s point of view. It took longer than it should have for the healer to settle down. His chest was trembling as he tried to catch his breath. “Love, Mildred is my cat.” He explained, “Not only that, but Mildred hates me.” His face held a residual glow of delight, and although he was no longer laughing out loud, his eyes revealed that he was still very much amused. “I enjoy you, Jacoba. Would you fancy a drink? After I buy this…. Mac record, and you close shop, of course.”

It wasn't too surprising that, of the selections Jacoba had played, Fleetwood was the chosen winner.  This Flynn seemed to have a fairly, well, playful attitude that really melded well with the upbeat and casual tones of the likes of Fleetwood Mac.  "Good pick," Jacoba agreed, weaving back through the record stacks to fetch an unopened copy of the album from the bins.  "And, a lucky one, too.  There's a whole genre of music pretty similar to this.  I'll be able to find you plenty of new stuff to keep you moving." 

Jacoba started writing out the sales receipt but glanced up, grinning uncertainly at the man's bout of laughter.  It was readily apparent that 'other half' had been the wrong choice of identifier for this mysterious Mildred but it wasn't until the man's laughter subsided that the extent of her mistake was apparent.  Jacoba laughed, herself, blushing slightly as she ducked her head.  Yup.  She'd guessed that wrong.  "Well," Jacoba said, shaking her head.  "I'm ... well.  Yes, I'm sorry.  That's definitely not ... I'm glad I didn't go with my second guess that she was your mother."  Jacoba rubbed her face, well aware her current bout of embarrassment wasn't exactly logical but it was persistent nonetheless.  "I'm sure Mildred will love it.  Or, not." 

Hoping she didn't look entirely foolish, Jacoba turned back to filling out the sales slip but paused, again, a moment later when the fellow invited her for a drink.  She looked back up, the previous blush persisting a little longer than she would have liked.  "A drink?"  She hesitated a moment then shrugged, throwing caution to the wind.  "Well, as long as your sure Mildred won't mind.  And, as long as you don't mind-"  Well, of course he didn't currently mind the possible ramifications.  She wasn't sure he knew about them, yet.  "As long as you don't mind getting stared at a little.  I - it tends to happen a fair bit around me.  Here in Diagon.  If people think it's, you know, a date - they might speculate."

“Well, she bosses me around like a mother would!” Flynn replied, hoping that Jacoba realized that he was not in the least bit offended. It was just a hilarious thought—him dating his cat. It was also a little disturbing, more disturbing than the idea of Mildred being his mother. He handed Jacoba the appropriate amount of money, careful to give her exact change. “Mildred doesn’t love anything, as long as it isn’t feeding her.” Flynn knew very well that the only reason the cat stayed around, was because he spoiled and pampered her. Flynn’s pets were better fed than Flynn was himself.

A drink?

What made her so hesitant about having a drink with him?

He raised an eyebrow curiously, but then decided that people did not like Jacoba, and were not comfortable around her because she was simply new to the area. And she was German, and to Flynn, everything in German sounded angry. To him, you could not sing “Happy Birthday” in German without sounding like you’re about to go on a massacre. “Mildred will mind, because it means I won’t be there to give her treats.” Flynn chuckled, “Dear, I get stared at all the time.” He motioned towards his face, “I’m simply that handsome.”

The healer knew that he sounded arrogant, but he frankly did not care if people stared. If it was about blood purity, it didn’t matter. After all, he was only a half blood. Squibs could be quite nice, though they were discriminated against. He felt like blood did not matter, as long as you were a good person. “Let them think it’s a date. Let them think it’s a casual outing. I don’t care.” Flynn said this with a shrug, and he truly did not care. This Jacoba person seemed quite interesting, and he would enjoy getting to know her better.

Jacoba shrugged as if the news of the bossy cat didn't surprise her in the slightest.  "Well, if it works.  Can't fault a lady for working the system to get what she wants.  She sounds like a smart cat."  By now, it was clear this fellow was unlikely to mind Jacoba siding with his cat and giving him grief.  Women had to stick together, after all - even if they belonged to separate species.  "At least her demands are pretty simple.  And, cheap.  She'll love you for food; most women require more pricey bribes." 

The touch of humor, as potentially arrogant as it might have sounded, was welcome and Jacoba grinned appreciatively.  The longer the conversation got, the more Jacoba was enjoying his laid back, laissez faire demeanor. 

But, as much as he might not care what people felt, Jacoba didn't feel comfortable leaving him in the dark.  There were bound to be comments dropped and, if word of her return had reached Knockturn, there was an ever present potential for open hostility.  Somehow, Jacoba wasn't even convinced that telling that crowd 'Oh no no!  It's all a mistake!  I actually do belong here' wouldn't immediately alleviate tensions.  After all, if they asked Jacoba to prove it, there wasn't much she could do. 

He had the right to at least be prepared; to not be blind sighted.  "Among some circles down here, I'm not the most popular person.  As 'That Muggle,' many kind of agree I'm out of my place.  It just ... you should know. But, I would love to get a drink.  Any place in particular you have in mind?"  She took the man's tender and slipped it in the old, mechanical cash register before turning her attention to straightening up things on the counter and generally getting the place in order. 

“Mildred is too smart for her own damn good.” Flynn acknowledged. He loved how smart his animals were. Well, how smart Mildred was. He had doubts regarding the intelligence of Henry. He also suspected that Mildred and Jacoba would get along well, though he decided that it was too soon for them to meet and plot against him. “You’re not going to meet her yet. She’s too devious.”  He insisted, pointing his index finger at Jacoba and wiggling it in a jokingly scolding manner.

He started to feel mildly confused—did she, or did she not want to drink with him? As Flynn listened, he realized what was going on. She was a muggle? How did she even get here? Did she have any wizarding family members? Maybe she was a squib, and felt culturally more like a muggle than a squib? There were so many questions, but Flynn felt like it would be rude to ask them before having a few drinks to relax. 

“Oooh, you’re a muggle! Fascinating!” His face lit up—Flynn had always been fascinated by muggles and squibs, but had been too lazy and preoccupied with whatever Flynns do to go out of his way to learn about muggles. This explained why she knew about this Janis lady. “If you’re around here though, you’re magic enough for me.” Flynn shrugged, “My dad’s a half-blood, my mom’s a veela. Blood purity doesn’t matter, as long as you aren’t a complete twit.”

He glanced towards the door. “The Leaky Cauldron is always an option.” It was small and simple, and a nice buffer between the wizarding and muggle world. “I’m sure there’s a few more pubs around, if you would prefer them.”  Flynn didn't have a preference. Whatever got him slightly intoxicated and uninhibited was good enough for him.

"I suspect she'd disagree," Jacoba offered, with a sly grin as she continued with her closing duties.  Though she'd never owned one, cats had always seemed an easy and agreeable pet.  Her family had only ever had the occasional stray, feral barn cats that wanted nothing to do with people.  But, cats as a whole seemed to possess an appealing mix of arrogant apathy and conditional affection.  Jacoba gathered up the armful of albums awaiting reshelving and started weaving through the bins.  "Something tells me she's too smart for your damn good.  Her intelligence probably suits her just fine.  Are you concerned about collaboration?"

No, apparently she wasn't a muggle but, for now, explaining that was more complicated than simply nodding.  She certainly didn't feel any more like a witch than she had a year ago, regardless of what had happened - for all intent's and purposes, she still felt like a muggle. 

"Leaky Cauldron sounds good," Jacoba agreed.  "I may just impose on you to let me through the wall at the end.  It can sometimes take a while for someone to go through if it gets too late.  Let me just get my coat."  Jacoba disappeared into the back storeroom and climbed the stairs to the attic, retrieving her long black trenchcoat before returning to Flynn.  Jacoba let Flynn lead the way out of the shop and followed, locking the door securely behind her. 

Once outside, she tugged her coat around her and cast a precautionary glance around before starting towards the Leaky.  "So, I assume you don't live or work in Diagon?" Jacoba asked.  "I haven't seen you around much."  And, Jacoba had a tendency to be pretty aware of her surroundings when she was out in the Alley. 

“Concerned about collaboration? Of course I am!” Flynn said, as if it would be preposterous not to worry about such a thing.  Soon, Flynn realized that it was impossible for her to be a muggle, and be in Diagon Alley. After all, if it was commonplace for muggles to be in Diagon Alley, Flynn was sure that he would have been far more knowledgeable about them. Perhaps she had magic in her family, and some trace of it was still showing up. After all, squibs could see dementors, but muggles could not. Perhaps she was more of a squib, than a muggle.

He wasn’t going to bring it up, though. He figured that she would have corrected him, if she was comfortable being a squib. Maybe she would rather be a muggle than a squib? Flynn suspected that it was often easier for squibs to integrate with the non-magical world, due to the discrimination that they often faced among their magical peers.  “Of course I’ll let you through the wall!” He replied, though his eyebrows raised deviously.

“Though, now that you ask, I want to watch you try to get through.”  He sighed, “But we just met, so I’ll let it slide this time.” However, his face was completely relaxed, and it was obvious that he would not seriously make her try to so something that she physically could not do.  Flynn followed Jacoba outside, and walked alongside her.

“I work at St. Mungos.” Flynn explained, “I work in Spell Damage, and I deal with long term patients as well.” He shook his head, “I do spend a bit of time here, just not recently. I’ve been spending my free time with my family. My parents just got a new house, so I was helping them get settled in when I have days off.” He was very much a momma’s boy, and he would do just about anything to help his parents out.