“Eeeeveryyyybody waaants to ruuuule the woooorld!” Lawrence laughed openly at the three wizards singing in high spirits leaving the Leaky Cauldron as he made his way up Diagon Alley for a drink. The sun had set an hour earlier, and the alley was lit by street lamps and shop fronts, the April weather kind that evening, staying dry. Lawrence’s Doc Martens navigated cobbles with ease, with no visible fatigue despite working from six to six.

The morning had called for plenty of paperwork, which had helped. Not his favourite part of the job by any stretch of the imagination, but a necessary part of auror life. At twenty-two, he had not long completed training, just about old and experienced enough to look forward to giving fresh faces from Hogwarts that summer the run around. Life was good. He was fit as a fiddle, he had good prospects to progress on Level Two and had saved enough money to finally move out from his parents last Christmas.

The Leaky Cauldron was full of the Friday night regulars, and Lawrence’s face broke into a broad, thin lipped grin as he was greeted by a mix of old school friends, the odd colleague and Leaky regulars, the sort who had their own stool and woe betide anyone who sat there.
“Your round then, Loz,” someone called, agreed by another.
“Typical… hey!” A familiar face had turned around in the group and Lawrence’s heart had skipped a beat. Susannah’s clever, bright eyes and elegant nose topped off her incredible smile which Lawrence would never tire of seeing. She was one of those who had suffered Hogwarts with him, but in Ravenclaw, not with him in Gryffindor. In that instant, his obligations to buy the round were forgotten to cherish the fact Susannah was there, and not joined at the hip with her boyfriend, Enoch Fairweather.
“Like the t-shirt,” she complimented, reaching out to pull aside his worn leather biker jacket to examine his Devil’s Snare tour t-shirt.
“Thanks,” Lawrence replied, trying desperately to act cool even though he was wishing she’d very much touch more than his jacket. He closed the distance, making out it was to allow her a closer look, “You’re looking lovely tonight, as you do every night.”

He squeezed in next to her at the bar as she giggled, pulling at her long plait over her shoulder. Willy Shufflebottom had pulled that plait when they were kids at Hogwarts, and Lawrence had punched him in the face for it. He didn’t care if Susannah plaited her hair in a hundred intricate ways, she was a thoroughly decent, intelligent witch, and she deserved a wizard who would look after her while she solved the world's problems. Lawrence had not found the right way to ask her, to tell her the way his heart did gymnastics when they spent time together, how he’d fallen in love with her in her earmuffs as they pulled mandrakes together in greenhouse three.

“Guess what,” he asked, remembering his news, “I’m an uncle!” His whole face lit up, in a different way to how he looked at his old classmate. “My sister’s had her baby. I’ve just been to see them.” His older sister, Cynthia, had shacked up with Frederick Bombay in Bewdley. Why Fred Bombay had left his wife and eight year old son for his crazy sister, he wasn’t sure. He could only guess it was Cindy’s decent looks and the fact she was in her mid-twenties with neat tits and a pert arse. It certainly wasn’t her personality. Lawrence had inherited what little their parents had offered in that area. That’s why he had the long nose and the tight curls he’d lopped into a mullet in an attempt to be fashionable. It was no wonder Susannah dated other men.

“Little girl, they’re going to call her Hannah,” he continued, a soft smile on his face as a line of beers stacked up along the bar in front of them. “Almost as good as Susannah,” he added, leaning his shoulder against hers, fingertips touching her wrist nearest him, her fingers wrapped around a wine glass stem. She giggled again. Merlin you’re lovely.

“I got to hold her. She’s so tiny! I never realised, like,” he gestured with both hands how small his newborn niece was. “So fragile! It’s incredible. I was petrified but when Cindy dropped her in my arms, I don’t know, I kind of… well… fell in love. That’s so soppy to say, but like, it wasn’t like holding a cat or something, she’s a real human being. She’s going to grow up and call me uncle Lawrence. It’s mind-blowing.” It wasn't advanced cross-species transfiguration, but in that moment it had felt like something incredible.

“Aww, Uncle Lawrence!” Susannah echoed, “Congratulations, I’m sure you’ll be a great uncle for Hannah."
“You think so? I hope so.” Lawrence replied, worried. If she thought so, he'd believe her. He dug into his jacket pocket and counted out galleons from his upturned palm to pay for the round.
“Hey guys,” Susannah called over the chatter of the rest of their posse, "Lawrence is an uncle!”

Lawrence would have been more than content to listen and talk all night just to Susannah amongst their friends, but the joy only lasted a pint. Fairweather appeared by half-nine, and Susannah dipped her head to Lawrence and turned away to join Enoch and his friends over by the Leaky’s dart board. Lawrence had trouble hiding his look of contempt at the older wizard, who had been their senior at Hogwarts by a handful of years. He and Susannah had got together when Lawrence had buried himself in work and study, drifted from the pub to focus. He’d come back to find her absent, Enoch’s arm around her in the street when he saw them. His left hand had flexed a fist, and he’d lectured himself in the mirror that night about how he should be happy for Susannah. That if she was happy with Enoch it was only his place to be happy for her too, and a supportive friend.

Only Enoch Fairweather was a complete dick. Lawrence truly, forcefully, could not see what she saw in him. Unless he was an utter gentleman in private and his public persona was a front. Then again, anyone who had asked Susannah out while Lawrence failed to find the words and the timing received scrutiny. But Enoch didn’t like the fact Susannah and Lawrence were friends. Her boyfriend turned out to be the jealous sort, and Lawrence chastised himself in private for realising he would be just as bad. Still, it hurt that she had to scurry away as soon as there was the slightest suggestion her boyfriend was nearby, for fear he’d think Lawrence was trying to poach her.

He was, but … not like that.

The young auror settled into conversation with his drinking fellows, everything from quidditch results to what it was like to change a baby to the political crises of foreign nations in both the Muggle and Magical press. Their number included Gringotts cursebreakers, unspeakables, aspiring entrepreneurs, creature handlers, fathers, and a journalist so conversation flip flopped from the mundane to righting the world through the bottom of a pint glass. However shitty a week Lawrence had seen as an auror, to know he had these transient friends in the Leaky to return to kept him sane.

All the while, the noise by the dart board increased.

“Eight again please, Tom”
“I think y’ve had enough.” Lawrence glanced round, an inch from the end of his third pint, to see Susannah twisting the end of her plait at the bar. She looked resigned, and behind her Enoch was spinning one of his friends on the spot, attempting a game of blindfold darts.
“Please Tom. They’re not that drunk, I prom-.” The dart careered into the back of a witch’s hat across the pub, accompanied by a screech, followed by a whoop from Fairweather’s gang.
“Out.” Tom shook his head, stepping through the bar, expression all business. He was no-nonsense at the best of times, but despite his hunchback stature, could fling drunk wizards out.

“Want a hand, Tom?” Lawrence heard himself ask before his mind caught up. Susannah looked round in surprise. A mix of alarm, then relief, and then more alarm, weighing up how this might pan out. She hadn’t drunk as much as her boyfriend. “S’alright. You stick with us,” Lawrence said, giving his limbs a shake. Maybe if Enoch was an arsehole, he could justify punching his twat face, and have that happy memory for weeks to come. No, he was Susannah’s boyfriend. Lawrence grumbled to himself as he crossed the pub behind the Leaky's landlord.

Luckily for Enoch, it was the Leaky’s man who sent him sprawling on the Diagon Alley cobbles ten minutes later. Lawrence returned to the pub, dusting off and straightening his jacket, steadying his breathing. Tom brushed off Susannah’s embarrassed apologies, shuffling off to serve the masses accumulated while he was away.
“Don’t apologise for him,” Lawrence suggested, “He needs to go home and sleep that off.”
“I should go after,"
“No.” Lawrence interrupted, the last of his pint halfway to his mouth. He regretted his abrupt response. “I mean,” he softened his tone, lowering the glass again, “Enoch won’t remember. He’ll be fine, blokes have this innate ability to get home despite how plastered we are. It’s not your responsibility Suse.”

Please don’t go after him, Lawrence begged her in his head. She didn’t deserve to have to look after a puking idiot of a wizard who would probably insist on going somewhere else to drink now before he fell over. If she were with Lawrence, he’d never treat her that way. She deserved better. However much he wanted to tell her, now was the wrong time. The best thing he could do was to make sure she got home safely, add extra wards to her front door, and hope Enoch didn’t try to test them. That was what a gentleman would do.

He finished the last finger of his pint, and offered her his arm, “May I walk you home?”