𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄
chapter eight; Sally In The Three Broomsticks
" You, Salem Gerard, are such an idiot. "

  ROMAN MAYES LIVED ten meters above the pub in which he worked. He'd been looking for both a steady job and housing when none other than Madam Rosmerta met him and offered him both. Roman was kind and respectable, he lit up the pub without much effort, and had never once tried to flirt with any of the patrons, which Rosmerta appreciated greatly.

  "Mayes, I'd love to know how you continue to manage to be late for work," Rosmerta said flatly as the redhead came stampeding down the stairs, still pulling a flannel shirt over his plain white t-shirt.

  "Must be magic," Roman said, grinning cheekily as the woman rolled her eyes and left him at the bar by himself.

  Now, Roman loved his work and where he lived. He'd forever chased the idea of youth, never wanting to succumb to his age, and a pub seemed the perfect way to do this. Meeting people from all over, kids from Hogwarts who tried to swipe firewhiskey from him, it all kept him young— it chased the wrinkles and arthritis away.

  "Did you ever figure out how you managed to chase that poor girl out of here?" Rosmerta asked, breaking the silence.

  In all honesty, the girl with red hair who was clearly a student at Hogwarts scrambling away from Roman hurt his ego just a little. He took pride in being warm and welcoming and never creepy, but somehow he'd scared a girl off.

  "No clue," He sighed sadly, "Hope I'm not doin' it right now."

  Rosmerta gasped and ran into the back, making Roman's hearty chuckle fill the otherwise empty pub. He ducked beneath the bar briefly, eyeing the varying levels of beverages, ready to put quill to paper when he heard the door creak open.

  "Welcome to The Three Broomsticks—" Roman's words died on his tongue when he stood fully and set eyes on the redhead.

  She looked just as shy as previously, but her attire had changed just slightly. The girl was dressed in a skirt, paired with thick tights to fight off the bitter cold, her mustard yellow top screamed from beneath an oversized denim jacket, and her red waves still fell in rebellion. Her hands were hovering at her waist, busied by twisting a rather long, dark wand.

  "You ran out of here the other day," Roman recognized, pointing and quickly making his way from behind the bar, "Was it something I did— Rosmerta thinks it must've been the new beard—"

  "Oh, um, no," She cut off quickly, making Roman clamp his lips shut, "Your, um, beard is fine."

  Roman subconsciously scratched at his facial hair. The girl squeezed her eyes shut and let out a long breath, almost as if she were clearing her lungs entierly.

  "My name is Sal—ly," She broke the silence, outstretching her hand, "I was wondering if you guys were hiring."

  "Hiring?" Roman asked, baffled, "We, um, don't tend to hire for any position aside from maids and I hardly think—"

  "I'd love to," Sally cut off quickly, "Yeah, um, do I need to apply?"

  "You're muggleborn aren't you?" Roman asked, his lips curling up slightly, "No, you don't need to apply, I'll talk to Madame Rosmerta and you'll be hired by the end of the week— if you're at least 17, that is."

  "Yeah, yep, seventh year at Hogwarts," She nodded.

  "Wonderful, I'll see you tomorrow then, Sally." 

  "Yeah, totally," The girl mumbled, turning on her heel and leaving the pub.

  "Rosmerta, you'll never believe you I just hired!"

  "Who you just what?"

  "Stupid, stupid, stupid," Salem mumbled as she took long strides away from the Three Broomsticks, "Sally— why the hell did I say Sally? And a maid, a bloody maid—!"

  Salem halted to let out a high-pitched scream of frustration. 

  "I am such an idiot," She whispered, staring at her own reflection in the dark Honeydukes window, "You, Salem Gerard, are such an idiot."

  She continued walking, kicking the pavement every now and then and mumbling profanities. Salem had, genuinely, had every intention of walking up to Roman and asking why he'd left her and her mother— but then she was there. And she was looking at Roman— who still may or may not be her real fucking father— and she couldn't.

  So now Salem was Sally and Sally was a maid at the Three Broomsticks.

⥊

  "Mystery Girl's mad at me!"

  Remus Lupin angrily hugged a pillow closer to his head, attempting to block out James Potter's early morning chatter.

  "What—why?"

  "I don't know!" James whined harshly to Sirius, collapsing onto his best mate's bed which was still being occupied, "She never responded."

  "Someone might've snatched the note?"

  "Why would anyone do that, Wormy?"

  "I don't know. . ."

  "Exactly, it makes no sense, she's clearly pissed."

  "Did she play you back?"

  James' head snapped towards Remus' bed, eyes crazed like his bedhead. Remus pulled his head from beneath his pillow and glared over at James and Sirius, though the former didn't even see the irritation.

  "Yes," James said eagerly, "But there wasn't a note—"

  "Maybe she just wants to play chess," Remus grumbled, faceplanting back into his pillow, "You know, like it started as?"

  James frowned at the idea, looking down to his lap. And suddenly, it was as if his heartbreak came flooding back, taking over his previously joy-filled eyes, dulling them back to the sight they were not so long ago.

  "That doesn't mean you haven't still got a chance," Sirius jumped, encouragingly grabbing onto James' arm, "Who's Hogwarts' most eligible bachelor?"

  James still sat emotionless.

  "Prongsie. C'mon."

  "Me," He grumbled under his breath.

  "I can't hear you."

  "Me!"

  "Right! And who's the fittest bloke in Northern Scotland?"

  "I am!"

  "That's right, and Mystery Girl can't resist that, can she?!"

  "No!"

  Sirius and James let out the same warcries they did before quidditch games, the former patting the latter's shoulder as he walked over to his trunk.

  "Moony, we need to talk."

  James cocked an eyebrow at Sirius' emotionless face, but said nothing as Remus grumbled and pulled himself out of bed.

  Sirius halted behind the velvety couch of the common room, crossing his arms tightly. Remus' eyes widened slightly as Sirius' face twisted into an angry sort of pout, and in one swift movement, Sirius and punched Remus' shoulder.

  "Ow—!"

  "You're going to re-break his heart, Moony!"

  Remus gaped, briefly.

  "This hasn't fixed it," Remus said, holding out an arm in disbelief, "It's a distraction— this girl isn't anything more than another person! She can't fix James!"

"It's not about Mystery Girl," Sirius cried out, "It's about the mystery! James is excited to get out of bed again, he's got this person he can talk to, and it's making him open up again! Moony, he talked to me last night, about Mia and Fleamont."

  "What about them?"

  "He's terrified," Sirius said quieter, "They're getting old, it's natural."

  "And you think Mystery Girl has pushed him to talk about that?"

  "Maybe not directly— I know you think I don't think right all the time, and some of my ideas are far-fetched, but this is a Priest for him to confess to, and then once someone else's heard it, he's confirmed it's real, he's stopped running from it, and then he can talk to us about it."

  Remus' lips curved down slightly, tugging his sweater sleeves over his hands.

  "I don't think you don't think right, Padfoot," Remus mumbled, "I think you're brilliant, and I think you're right."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah. It's less about who Mystery Girl is, and it's more about how the situation— the chase to find her— is sort of the road back to himself. He's got to confront the breakup and process it before anyone else can help him, but he's got to work his way there."

  "Exactly!" Sirius nodded, "I just. . . I don't want to lose my brother, again."

  "You won't," Remus assured, locking eyes with Sirius, "James isn't going anywhere."

  Sirius acted quickly, his arms wrapped around Remus' middle and face buried into his jumper. Remus sat shocked for a moment, before hugging the shorter Marauder back. 

  And while the boys melted into eachother in the morning sun spilling through the windows, a girl with snow still melting on her shoulders watched them. And she cared not for the lingering embrace they shared, but for the revelation they'd just triggered.

  Salem had been so selfish. It was never about her— wanting to play chess, to dig into Lily and James' relationship, to continue being hurt by a prank pulled years prior. 

  Because while they'd pulled the prank, she'd been the one who packed up the never-fading memories and wore them like a scarlet letter pinned to her chest. Salem didn't answer to her full name and refused to make any more friendships. 

  And maybe she just needed to leave her luggage at the gate. To forgive and forget and take a step up, be Mystery Girl and med James Potter's broken heart, but also be Salem Gerard. Befriend Lily and attend Gryffindor Hogsmeade trips. 

  This would be the way to let it all go.

( AUTHOR'S NOTE. )
sal's an idiot goodbye!