Love... Eventually

One: Lady in Red

Ernie Macmillan considered himself to be a typical upstanding citizen. He rose from his bed every morning at six in the morning performed his daily morning ablutions, ate his toast and drank his coffee while reading the Daily Prophet, left for work at half-seven and put in a full days work at the Ministry of Magic. At approximately five in the evening, he performed a similar routine except in reverse. He was always in bed by ten. Ernie was quite comfortable with this schedule which he maintained since graduating from Hogwarts. He never felt the need for a wife or lover. His orderly life was low on angst and stress while high on peace and quiet. Until this morning, that is.

The morning started out like any other. Ernie woke up with a bit of a headache and his back hurt for some odd reason. Still, he did not question this, as it was not unusual for him to suffer such symptoms after the completion of a big report. Some pain-relieving potion would take care of that, he decided as he shuffled to the bathroom. He took his shower, wincing when the hot water hit the back of his neck. That stung. He finished washing himself and got out of the shower, automatically drying off and picking up his razor.

As he peered into the mirror to begin shaving, he noticed strange red marks on his neck. Ernie frowned, trying to determine if the scratches were some kind of allergic reaction. He added skin soothing lotion to the list of medication he would need before leaving for work. Dismissing the idea of a more irregular cause, he turned to the bathroom door with just a towel around his waist and prepared to get dressed in his bedroom. Now feeling that he was fully awake, Ernie pushed the door open and stepped back into his bedroom. When he saw what waited for him, he almost ran back into the bathroom.

His room was a mess. Ernie gaped, blinking quickly as though that would miraculously tidy everything back into its previous order. It didn't, of course. Pillows were scattered on the floor, sheets were half-on and half-off the bed, and his blankets were shoved in a heap at the foot of the bed. Even worse, clothes were strewn in a path leading to his bed. Clothes! On the floor! He twitched as the sight fully registered in his neat and orderly mind. Ernie Macmillan never had clutter of any kind on his floor. He wondered vaguely if he had any sedative potion and if it would interact well with the pain-relieving potion. Numbly and in a daze, Ernie picked up the clothes and began sorting them into his multi-compartmental hamper. Dark colours, whites, and special attention articles each belonged in its own bin; ready for Ernie to wash every Sunday. They did not belong on the floor! He had no idea who he was chastising.

Hyperventilating only slightly, Ernie turned back to his bed. It looked like a herd of hippogryffs had stampeded over it followed by a few dancing giants. When his eyes reached the headboard, he almost fell over from staring at it. Tied to the posts of the headboard were two of his best silk ties. They looked suspiciously stretched out and well used. Ernie cautiously removed the now wrinkled silk ties from the posts and numbly hung them on his tie holder in the closet. Deciding to attempt making his bed, he began to remove sheets so he could use fresh ones. That was when he discovered a few things left in his bed that immediately turned his morning from bad to worse.

*

"Justin," Ernie hissed.

Justin Finch-Fletchley looked up from the parchment he was working on and grinned. "It's a bit early for lunch, mate," he quipped to Ernie. Justin frowned suddenly as he stared at his best friend. "Ernie," he observed, "you're twitching."

Ernie rolled his eyes, reaching over and grabbing Justin by the back of his neck to pull him closer. Before Justin could protest, Ernie reached into his coat pocket and pulled out two red pieces of fabric. "What are these?" he demanded, waving them in front of Justin's face.

Justin plucked each of the articles from Ernie's grasp. "They appear," he said carefully, "to be a pair of red lacy knickers and a matching bra." He held them up. "And they belong to someone quite a bit more voluptuous than Hannah," he added.

Ernie groaned and quickly snatched the undergarments from Justin. "I found these this morning on my bed," he whispered harshly. "After I showered, I discovered that I had scratches on my back and marks on my neck! There were clothes on the floor and my best ties were wrapped around the post of my headboard!" He shook the undergarments in front of Justin's face again. "There were CLOTHES on my FLOOR, Justin."

Justin tried not to grin. "Obviously you got shagged," he commented. "So who was the lucky girl?"

Ernie groaned and then glowered at his friend. "Last night," he said through gritted teeth, "I was at the pub for your party." He leaned forward, glaring down at Justin. "What happened?"

*

Ernie slumped down in his chair. This morning was not going well at all. First he woke up scratched up and sore in a messy room with women's underwear in his bed. Then Justin had been unable to shed any light on Ernie's activities last night following the party. And now he had just spilt hot coffee on his white shirt.

He fretfully dabbed at the spot with a napkin, afraid that he'd incinerate himself if he tried to use his wand. Squinting, he realized his headache from this morning was getting worse and that he'd forgotten to take the pain relief potion.

Giving up on rubbing the coffee spot off his shirt, Ernie sighed and pulled a sheaf of parchment toward him. He had actually gotten somewhat focused on the document in front of him when he heard someone clear her throat at his office doorway. He looked up and saw a woman staring down at him. Ernie wondered if his morning had just gotten better or worse.

*

Millicent Bulstrode was having a bad morning. She had woken up earlier in a soft bed next to a man she barely knew. There was something familiar about her spur-of-the-moment lover, but she couldn't match the face to a name. What she did know was that they had shagged the previous night and it had been good, hot and dirty. She shuddered in remembrance.

Millicent quietly slipped out of the stranger's bed and poked around the room a bit, searching for a clue to his identity. She found several envelopes addressed to 'Ernie Macmillan.' She frowned as the name struck a chord in her. Ernie had been a prefect; a Hufflepuff prefect. She, Millicent Bulstrode, Slytherin, had shagged Ernie the Hufflepuff Prefect.

She retrieved her robe and dressed quietly but she was unable to find her undergarments. Great, she thought. Bloody great. I bet he's sleeping on them. Reluctant to face the awkwardness and questions the young man would undoubtedly have, she apparated back to her flat so she could shower and dress in peace. Later, she decided, she would have a word with Ernie the Hufflepuff Prefect about her bra and knickers.

After enduring Pansy's glee and mirth at Millicent's one-night-stand and the apparent disappearance of her undergarments, Millicent had followed her friend's suggestion of looking Ernie up at the Ministry. She was directed to the Department of International Magical Co-operation where she was now.

*

Ernie stared at the woman gazing intently at him. "Erm," he said none too smoothly, "hello. Can I help--"

"You're Ernie Macmillan," the woman stated, cutting him off mid-sentence. "And I believe you have something of mine."

His stomach did an odd little flip-flop and his ears turned a delightful shade of pink. "I-I-I have something of yours?" he queried nervously. "I don't think--"

"I'm the woman you took home last night," she said, once again interrupting him. "My name is Millicent Bulstrode." She sneered at his flabbergasted expression.

Ernie stared at the scowling woman, his eyes trailing down from her face to her torso. He didn't realize he was ogling her until she crossed her arms over her chest. Certain that his face was now the same colour as the undergarments he carried in his pocket, he forced his gaze back up to her face. He looked around uncomfortably, hoping that no one was in listening range. "We...um--I took you home?" he asked, wishing that his voice hadn't squeaked on that last word.

Millicent smirked. "I'm not surprised that you've forgotten me," she said sardonically. "You were drunk last night." She took a step closer to his desk. "All I want are my knick---"

"Shhhh," Ernie hissed, this time interrupting Millicent. "I've got them but--" He looked around at the bustle of people around them. One of them appeared to be approaching his office.

Following Ernie's nervous gaze, Millicent decided she didn't want her undergarments gawked at by other Ministry drones. "Fine," she said, throwing a card onto his desk. "Owl it to me there. That's my address."

Ernie looked at the card and then back up at her. He signaled his hovering co-worker away. "I don't have an owl at home," he told her.

Millicent rolled her eyes. "Doesn't the Ministry have an owl you can use?"

Ernie frowned. "I can't use a ministry owl for...er...personal business." He could just imagine the ethics nightmare.

"Fine," Millicent said again, though less patiently. "That card has my place of business. Meet me there at noon." When he nodded, she spun on her heel and strode out of the office. "What are you looking at?" Ernie heard her sneer to whomever she passed by.

*

As he left the Ministry of Magic, Ernie was cursing the effect of alcohol on his judgment--or on his sex-drive--or both. He also cursed his decision to meet the woman again. Ernie thought back to his days at Hogwarts. He did remember Millicent Bulstrode. She had been burly, plain-looking and a Slytherin. A female Gregory Goyle, some of the other students used to call her. It was difficult reconciling that memory with the intense voluptuous beauty he had apparently spent the night with.

Ernie arrived at the small cafe she had appointed as their meeting place. He opened the door and stepped into a cool and dimly lit room. The delicious fragrance of freshly baked bread and simmering soups reached his sense of smell. He realized he hadn't eaten breakfast that day.

While Ernie was debating between a nice warm meal and a quick escape, a young man walked up to him. "How many in your party?" the waiter inquired. Ernie tried not to wince at the mention of "party."

Before Ernie could reply, a familiar female voice spoke. "He's with me," Millicent said blandly.

*

Wordlessly, Millicent led Ernie to a small table in a secluded corner of the cafe. When he sat down, a place setting with a bowl of soup, a small loaf of warm bread, and a cup of tea appeared in front of him. Millicent took the seat opposite him.

Ernie's mouth watered at the sight of food but he looked up quizzically at Millicent. "Aren't you eating as well?" he queried.

Millicent looked like she was about to argue but decided against it. Another bowl of soup and cup of tea appeared in front of her. She shook her head as they began eating.

After eating in silence for a few moments, Ernie looked up at the woman sitting across from him. "You own this cafe?" he asked. When she nodded, he smiled. "This food is very good." Shifting uncomfortably, he cleared his throat. "Ah--so--I--" Ernie fumbled around for a moment, unsure how to word his next question. He decided on straightforward with no preamble. "Could you tell me anything about last night?" he blurted out.

Millicent nodded, brushing back a lock of hair from her face. "I tell you what I know and you return my bra and knickers then. All right?"

Blushing, Ernie nodded his agreement.