Author's Chapter Notes:

A/N: One of the reasons I decided to write this story in the first place is because there's a whole bit in the movie/book where Andy has to go chasing down a copy of the latest Harry Potter novel for Miranda's daughters.  Which is, obviously, the part we've gotten to in the narrative.  Enjoy!


Official Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Andy Sachs and the Cleverly Worded Plot Device
by: Hayseed (

Chapter Three: ...and the Evils of Stereotyping

“Why does it always come back to goddamn Harry Potter?” Andy asked, sounding as mournful as she could.

Lily grinned and took a big bite of her sandwich. “It doesn’t,” she said. “But to someone who has an unnatural fixation, I can see why it might seem that way.”

“I do not have a fixation,” Andy countered automatically, flicking a fry across the table in Lily’s general direction.

“Hey, thanks,” Lily said, snatching up the fry and dragging it through the puddle of ketchup on her plate. “But, all teasing aside, what’s that damn Potter brat done to piss you off this time?”

“Miranda let me take the Book to her townhouse last night,” Andy said by way of explanation.

Lily took a sip of her soda. “Not sure what that has to do with Harry Potter, but okay.”

“And I...” She closed her eyes, reliving the horror of the incident. “I went upstairs.”

“Based on the sheer dread in your voice, I’m guessing that’s a bad thing.”

With a grimace, Andy stirred her own drink with her straw. “It’s so bad it’s beyond bad. You do not invade Miranda’s space. Rule one of the job.”

“I thought rule one was that you didn’t call her Mrs. Priestly,” Lily replied with a confused frown.

“There are a lot of rule ones. Anyway, I went upstairs, and I saw... something that I shouldn’t. So when I went in today, she, um, decided to make life difficult for me.”

“Gosh, your boss? Make things difficult? How unlike her,” Lily said sarcastically.

“No one thinks you’re funny, you know,” Andy replied with a nasty smirk.

Lily’s responding smirk was equally nasty. “It’s a good thing I think I’m fucking hilarious, then.”

With a deep sigh, Andy just took a long drink of her soda. “It doesn’t matter how funny you think you are. Miranda’s asking for the impossible, and she knows it.”

“Are you telling me she wants the G -- the, uh, Hogwarts Sorting Hat or something?” Lily asked wryly.

“No,” Andy said slowly, as if she were addressing her two-year-old niece. “That’s just dumb. Miranda wants the possibly impossible -- a copy of the seventh Harry Potter book. By three.” She checked her watch. “No, wait, by two. The twins’ train pulls out of the station at three, and I have to get it in their hands before they leave.”

Her eyes were wide, round as saucers. “But... that’s classified! Everyone knows that.”

“Muggles don’t, dummy,” Andy shot back. But almost before the words were out of her mouth, she felt a guilty knot in the pit of her stomach. “Sorry, Lils. It’s not you; I’m just... losing my mind, I guess.”

“So...” Lily drawled, and Andy knew she’d been forgiven. “What are you going to do?

“Get fired, I guess,” she said. “I told Nate about everything when I got off the phone with my dad. He’s probably planning a party as we speak.”

Lily paused, a limp fry halfway to her mouth. “Wait... your dad? What insight could Sir possibly have to over into Miranda’s questionable psyche?”

“I haven’t asked,” Andy said with a genuine smile, feeling like herself for the first time since the twins ‘invited’ her upstairs the night before. “He and I were chatting about the ins and outs of the publication process for the Potter books. He was one of the content editors for the fourth book, you know.”

Somewhere in the middle of her explanation, Lily’s entire mood shifted. She sat up in her chair all of a sudden and started giving the surrounding customers suspicious looks. “Andy, baby, not that I doubt your discretion or anything, but is this really the best place to be having this conversation?”

Andy laughed. She loved Lily; she really did. “Muffliato, my dear. Learn it, live it, love it.”

She just gave her head a knowing shake and rolled her eyes. “Why did you tell the Aurory to take a hike, again?”

“I figured working in the high-paced world of fashion would be lower stress than dealing with evil, deadly monsters on a daily basis,” Andy replied, deadpan.

“Well, it’s probably more interesting, anyway,” Lily said, biting her lower lip to hide the obvious grin. “I have to say, Andy, you’re taking your potential unemployment remarkably well. I’d’ve figured you’d be a gibbering, apologizing mess right about now. I mean, we’ve been here talking about this for half an hour at least, and you haven’t mentioned your imminent demise once.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Andy countered with a little shrug. “Daddy said that by this time in the layering process, the book might even be safe enough to hand to a Muggle, but first I’d have to lay my hands on a copy of it.”

“How the hell are you supposed to do that?”

She snorted. “That’s the fucking point, Lils. I’m not supposed to. Anyway, to find an editor, I would need contacts who work full-time in the wizarding world. The only people I know who fit that description are my parents, and when I called home, I came up dry.”

“You know...” Lily said thoughtfully. “There is someone else you could call.”

“Yeah,” she retorted sarcastically. “Because I know so many wizards in New York. The only one I know besides you is...”

It clicked.

“Oh, shit,” she groaned. “Lily, no.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” Lily said in an innocent voice. “I’m not going to charm the phone to stick to your ear and dial itself or anything.”

By this time, she was stirring her soda with such agitation that the cup threatened to topple over. “I hate my job,” she said, more to herself than not. “My boss is Satan incarnate, my co-workers think I’m a badly dressed nutcase, and the only person there who even seems to have a soul mostly likes me because I let him treat me like a life-size Barbie doll. I’d be an idiot if I enjoyed enduring that kind of shit on a daily basis.”

“Okay, first of all...” Lily started ticking off points on her fingers. “You’re not badly dressed. Any more. Second, you totally don’t have the tits to pull off a Barbie analogy, so don’t even try it, sweet cheeks. And third, if you can’t even convince me that you don’t like your job, how the hell do you expect to convince yourself?

“I... hey, did you just criticize my clothes?” Andy asked blankly, losing track of whatever insightful rebuttal she was about to make.

Sighing, Lily leaned over and pulled Andy’s cell out of her purse. “Call information, ask for Luke’s number. I’d bet my next paycheck he’s too cheap to pay not to be listed. After you’re done begging him to save your job, we can move on discuss your past fashion mistakes. Starting with your unironic usage of plaid kilts past the age of sixteen.”

Her finger hovered over the ‘4.’ “But...” she whined in a last-ditch effort to worm out of a conversation with Luke.

“Tick-tock,” Sachs,” Lily said in a stern voice. “Haven’t you told me that a million Muggles would kill for your job?”

“Idiots,” she grumbled. “Every last one. Hi.” She shifted gears as the operator’s voice chirped in her ear. “Yeah, um, New York City, Luke Stephenson. Would you connect me directly if you can?”

The phone clicked a couple of times before starting to ring.

By the fifth ring, she shot Lily a knowing look. “Nice try, Lils, but he’s not--“


“Oh, fuck,” she sighed.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Well, isn’t that lovely, Ms. Crank Caller,” Luke eventually said in a dry, disbelieving tone. “I’m hanging--“

“Luke, wait!” she interrupted. “It’s me. Andy.”

“And you were just calling me up to talk about fornication?” His voice hadn’t shifted at all. “What do you need, Sachs? And how the hell did you get this number, anyway? I don’t seem to recall giving it to you.”

“Information, dumbass,” she shot back. “If you don’t want to be listed, you have to tell the phone people.”

“Oh, like you have so much experience with Muggle telephones yourself, Miss Prissy-Pants Pureblood,” he retorted.

She rolled her eyes, wishing he was here to see the scowl on her face. “First of all, I fucking grew up with a phone in the house, just like everyone born after 1900. Second of all, like you have any room to spout that blood-purity shit at me. Who’s your mom again, Lucas?”

“So you really did call me up just to be a bitch, then.” He sounded like he was leaning closer to pissed than amused, so she started backpedaling.


“Well, I kind of, sort of ran into my boss last night when I wasn’t supposed to, and she’s made, and I have to get a copy of the last Harry Potter book in, like, two hours, or I’m fired,” she said in a rush, trying to sound as pathetic as possible.

“I hate to break it to you, Sack-of-Shit, but I can’t Obliviate your boss just because she’s being mean to you.” His voice was amused now, and she blew out a sigh of relief.

“Actually, Lucas, I’d pretty much guessed that. I was calling to see if you knew anyone who has access to the book.”

A long, low whistle. “Boy, Sachs, when you ask for a favor, you don’t go by halves.”

She shrugged, forgetting briefly that she was on the phone. “I figured the worst that could happen has kind of already happened. No harm in asking.”

“You sound like you’ve already been fired.”

“I was told that if I couldn’t come back with the book, I shouldn’t bother coming back at all,” Andy said. “For all intents and purposes, I have been fired.”

“Well... maybe not,” Luke said, sounding so blasé that Andy wished he was right in front of her. So she could slap him.

“What do you mean?”

Damn it, she was not going to get her hopes up. In fact, they were already up and in serious peril of getting dashed -- she hated her job, and getting fired was the best thing to happen to her since she’d started at Runway.

Wasn’t it?

“I might know a guy who could help you out,” Luke replied. “He owes me a solid for taking care of an issue with... well, he owes me, anyway.”

“Who is he?” Fuck it, who was she kidding? She was practically chomping at the goddamn bit to keep her job. “Do I need a number, or maybe he doesn’t have a phone! I might be able to scrape up some Floo powder, but--“

“Hang on there, kiddo,” Luke interrupted with a chortle. “I’m not going to just cash in with this guy out of the kindness of my heart. You owe me, sister, and I intend to collect.”

Collect? What was he talking about? What did she owe him for?

“I’m sorry about that time in old McMinamin’s class when I stuck you to the ceiling and then told him you did it to yourself and he spent the rest of class calling you an imbecile and threatening to have you expelled for sheer idiocy,” she said breathlessly, frantically grasping at straws.

“That wasn’t what I was referring to,” he said wryly, “but thanks for bringing up that old childhood trauma. Also, I seem to recall that story ends more appropriately with a spell cast by, gosh, I don’t even know who that turned your chair into a cactus, causing you to curse a blue streak that landed you in McMinamin’s detentions for a month.”

“Yes, yes,” she replied, wrinkling her nose. “Clearly fun times were had by all in good old Defense class. Now, what the hell do you mean with this ‘I owe you’ bullshit?”

“Well, if I bail you out, you’ll owe me,” he told her, clearly amused. “Are you sure you can handle that, Sack-of-Shit?”

“Bring it,” she said firmly.

“All right, here’s the deal,” he said in an agreeable tone. “I give you my buddy’s name and number. If he can’t help, then you owe me nothing. But if he can...”

The pause was long enough that for a horrible second, Andy thought the call had been dropped. “What?”

“If he can, you’ve got to convince Lily to go on a date with me.”

“Have you lost your effing mind?” she exclaimed unthinkingly.

She could all but picture the aw-shucks grin on Luke’s face. It got on her nerves all the way across the damn city. “Look, if I ask her directly, she’ll just blow me off because she’ll be thinking of the goofy kid she knew back in school. If she goes out with me, though, maybe she’ll figure out I’ve changed.”

Yeah, right, Andy thought to herself. “This is emotional blackmail, but you’ve got a deal.”

“Got a pen?”

Andy scribbled the name down. “Christian Thompson. 212-555-0726. All right. If it works out, you’ll be hearing from her.”

“Hearing from who?” Lily asked curiously as soon as Andy punched the ‘End’ button.

She pasted on her biggest, friendliest smile. “It’s the weirdest thing, Lily, but Luke--“

“Why did all the hair on the back of my neck suddenly stand on end?” Lily asked no one in particular. “Just... call the guy first, Andy. I only want to know what despicable thing you promised Luke I’d do if I actually have to go through with it.”

It was probably for the best, Andy decided as she started dialing in Christian Thompson’s number. Really, what were the odds that he would come through?

She’d made it three whole weeks delivering the Book without fucking up royally.

Well, nineteen days, if anyone was counting, but that was practically three weeks, so there. More if you counted in business weeks.

Which Miranda didn’t, of course. Weekends were just workdays with less traffic on the subway.

But complaining somehow lacked the appeal it used to have. She wasn’t sure why, but it all felt... flat.

It probably had something to do with that stupid Harry Potter thing. She really would go to hell and back to keep her job, and now everyone knew it, Miranda included. From an increasingly sulky Nate right down to that fucking arrogant Christian Thompson.

There was a whole laundry list of reasons not to like him. If nothing else, the fact that he saw no problem with hitting on a girl who’d told him (repeatedly) that she had a boyfriend should have been enough to turn her completely off. Even though she owed him one. And he had a blindingly handsome smile. And--

Damn it, she was doing it again.

Focus, she told herself resolutely, watching the townhouse come into view in the Town Car’s windshield.

Christian Thompson could suck an Acid Pop as far as she was concerned. She’d gotten what she needed from him; now, she needed to do her job.

Which currently involved getting in and out of Miranda’s house a) without being seen or heard and b) without using magical means to accomplish it.

Using magic only meant getting caught, and getting caught meant having to deal with Luke. Who she wasn’t avoiding at all, no sir.

She wasn’t concerned even in the slightest that when Lily showed up for their enforced date at the swankiest wizarding club in the whole city, she’d hexed Luke’s hair electric pink, called him a manipulative bastard, and stomped off to threaten Andy with eternal pain and misery for agreeing to Luke’s deal in the first place.

Nope, not worried in the slightest.

It would be rude to bother him, though.


So she pushed the lovely thought of a Disillusionment Charm out of her mind and gathered up the dry cleaning in as manageable a pile as she could.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” she told Roy as she slid out of the backseat, juggling the Book with the slick plastic bags.

“I don’t mind,” he replied. “It’s so late, and--“

“I’m a big girl, Roy,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”

Also, she failed to say, I can Apparate and I don’t want to have to wait another half an hour to get home.

He looked skeptical. “Andy.”

“Roy,” she countered firmly. “Seriously. I’ll be fine.”

Shaking his head as she closed the car door, he pulled away from the curb, but she could tell he was still reluctant.

Oh, well, right? She had bigger things to worry about.

Like the townhouse looming in front of her. Every time she had to go in, her gut twisted, reminding her of her first abysmal failure of a visit. Which was probably stupid and counter-productive, but that didn’t make it go away.

Swallowing against her rising anxiety, Andy forced herself to climb the stairs and let herself in.

She hated the foyer. How could Miranda stand living somewhere that looked more like a hotel than a home?

Not her problem.

As quietly as she could, she made her way over to the closet and hung the dry cleaning in it, smoothing the plastic as if on autopilot.

The Book went on the correct table, and she was done. All she had to do was get out the door and she was home-free.

Somewhere in the bowels of the townhouse, a door suddenly slammed, and Andy froze with her hand halfway to the front door latch.

She should ignore it. Her inner-Emily was screaming at her to get out, for fuck’s sake, get out right now!

But she hesitated.

The slam was followed by a loud thud that she couldn’t place. Something hitting a wall, maybe.

You stupid fat cow! inner-Emily shrieked. Now’s not the time!

All Andy did was blink. Honestly, that really was it. She didn’t leave the foyer, she wasn’t lingering (much), but whatever she did to offend the gods, it was apparently enough.

She blinked and suddenly Miranda was in the foyer, giving her one of those damnably inscrutable looks.

Inner-Emily was apoplectic with rage.

The only thing Andy could bring herself to do was lower her eyes to stare at her feet.

“Andrea,” Miranda said evenly, and Andy felt her name ripple all the way down her spine just like she always did when Miranda said it.

And then, a laugh.

Wait... Miranda was laughing?

Inner-Emily fell silent. Maybe it was the shock of it.

“Of course,” Miranda said, biting the laugh off almost before it had fully registered in Andy’s brain that Miranda Priestly was capable of laughter. “Of course you’re here.”

The way she said it made Andy’s head snap up.

She looked perfect, as usual. Except... except she looked completely miserable.

“I, uh...” Andy stammered, for lack of anything better.

Miranda’s eyes narrowed into the familiar Why-Do-I-Even-Bother Glare. Without another word, she snatched the Book off the glass table and sauntered back the way she came.

Leaving Andy’s head whirling.

A miserable Miranda was something of a novelty. Miranda could be many things: angry, high-handed, demanding.

But actual human emotions?

What a bizarre concept. Miranda could be sad.

Of course you’re here.

And... embarrassed?


Whatever Miranda was feeling, it was sending Andy into a tailspin.

She’d never felt sorry for Miranda before.

And yet, here she was, wondering who gave Miranda a hug when she needed one.

After more time passed than she should ever have spent in Miranda’s home, she blinked one last time and turned to leave.

One of the flower arrangements caught her eye.

Did Miranda even really like flowers? So much about her seemed calculated for maximum effect, but did that carry over into her private life? Were the flowers just part of the furniture, or did Miranda actually look at them?

An impulse Andy didn’t question sprang into her mind. Before she could even begin to talk herself out of it, she leaned toward the drooping arrangement and whispered a few words.

Automatically, the flowers perked up and several more buds bust open on each stem.

Andy smiled at her handiwork and left the townhouse with a spring in her step she would have denied if anyone had asked.

“So you’re talking to me, then?” Andy asked as she answered her cell.

“I’m fine, thanks, bestest bud,” Lily replied. “Thanks for your observance of the social niceties.”

“Sorry,” Andy said, not meaning it in the slightest. “You caught me off-guard, and I’m trying to pack for Paris.”

“First of all, when the fuck did we stop talking to each other? And second, aren’t you going to get into trouble, packing your own bag like that? What if some non-Runway-approved gear winds up in there?”

She sighed and continued thumbing through the contents of her underwear drawer.

Women like Miranda might have lingerie drawers, but hers was damn well going to stay an underwear drawer if she had anything to say about it.

“I’m pretty sure Miranda doesn’t care what I sleep in,” Andy said dryly. “At least, she’s never asked about it. And if we’re not fighting, then what the hell was going on Tuesday at the gallery show?”

“Oh, that,” Lily said dismissively. “Look, Andy, baby, I may think your boyfriend is an asshat of the nth degree, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to look the other way while you make a moron of yourself over another guy.”

“A moron?” Andy echoed, wounded.

“Yes, my little halfer. A moron. At the end of the day, I really don’t give a shit about your magical love adventures with Mr. Whitest-Smile-In-The-State, but at least dump the Muggle dweeb first.”

Somewhere in the middle of Lily’s lecture, Bucky decided that Andy wasn’t planning to take nearly enough cat hair to Paris and jumped into her suitcase.

“Oh, for... Bucky!” Andy cried as the cat started rolling around on a two-thousand dollar original. “Hang on, Lily.”

She dropped the phone on the bed and lunged forward to attempt some damage control.

“Jesus, Bucky, most of this stuff isn’t even mine,” she scolded as she untangled a silk stocking from a squirming Bucky’s claws. “And it’s not the kind of thing I can just transfigure without anyone noticing.”

Bucky finally escaped Andy’s arms and landed solidly on the floor, ears flat against her skull.

“Don’t give me that,” Andy said, picking the phone back up in her free hand. “I can’t help that I have to travel, and I offered to let you stay with Lily while I’m gone, so don’t you pout as if I’m deserting you or anything stupid like that.”

With a clearly offended growl, Bucky stalked off, tail twitching in irritation.

On the other end of the line, Lily was laughing. “Having domestic problems, my dear?”

“My cat, my boyfriend, even my best friend,” Andy said pointedly. “I can’t catch a break.”

“Hey, you and I are solid,” Lily said. “I’m just trying to keep you on the moral straight and narrow. And who was that guy, anyway? The only other place I’ve ever seen such blatant over-sexed flirting was in that soft-core wizarding porn Nick and Luke used to leave lying around their room.”

Andy snorted at the mental image. “Believe it or not, he was Luke’s old contact.”

“Oh, the Harry Potter guy,” Lily said.

“Yeah, and you won’t believe--“

The front door slammed open.

“Shit, Nate’s home,” Andy said in a rush. “I haven’t told him about Paris and--“

“You haven’t told him?” Lily’s voice all but exploded out of the receiver. “You told me about it a month ago!”

“I just... he’s not...” She groped around for a good reason, but her heard just wasn’t in it.

“You’re flying out tomorrow,” Lily exclaimed. “Don’t you think he’ll notice when you fucking disappear for a week?”

“I was going to tell him,” Andy said lamely.

The fridge opened and closed, signaling Nate’s approach.

Lily sighed into the phone, sending a shiver of static rattling through Andy’s ears. “Look, Andy, baby, dump him or come clean with him, but get off your ass and do something about him!”

The phone went dead just as Nate finally stepped into the bedroom.

“Oh, you’re home,” Andy said unnecessarily, sliding her phone shut. “Lily called, and we were just--“

“Am I missing something?” Nate interrupted with a raised eyebrow. “Why are you packing all your stuff?”

Dump him or come clean.

Well, really. Why not do both?

“I, um,” she stuttered, her resolve failing as quickly as it had risen.

Apparently, dumping him or coming clean was easier said than done.

Bucky was sitting in the doorway, calmly cleaning her face with a single paw. An ear flicked at Andy. Coward.

“I have to go to Paris,” Andy said in a rush, before she could second-guess herself. “With Miranda.”

Why the hell did she say it like that?

Whatever her reasons, it sure had the intended effect. Nate’s eyes widened for a split second before his whole expression settled into a hateful sneer. “Honeymooning in Paris, huh?” he said snidely. “Bring me back a t-shirt?”

“Nate...” she began in a placating tone.

Don’t,” he said sharply. “Whatever lie you’re about to tell me, just save your breath, Andy.”

He couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d slapped her. All of the air in her lungs gone, she was reduced to silently gaping at him.

“I’m not stupid,” Nate continued, glaring at her. “I’ve always known you were off the beaten path with your weird cat and staying up all hours with those bizarre friends of yours from high school or whatever. And it was okay, because we were okay. But ever since you started working for... working for that bitch, it’s like you’ve lost your damn mind!”

“Don’t call her--“

He plowed right over her like she hadn’t even opened her mouth. “You spend all your free time with Lily, and whenever I come in the room, you look like you’re... I don’t know, scared or something. And I can’t handle that kind of shit, Andy. Whatever it is you’re not telling me, just tell me! This... this secrecy is tearing us apart.”

“Maybe,” she said delicately, sensing an opening. “Maybe that’s for the best. I’ll be gone for a week, and that’s plenty of time for you to--“

“I don’t fucking believe you!” he cried. “You’re dumping me?”

She blinked in surprise. Hadn’t he been listening to himself? “It’s just that my name’s on the lease, so it would make more sense for you--“

“Bullshit!” he interrupted (again). “You’re so full of shit, Andy. You can’t even tell me what’s going on before you kick me out?”

He turned as if to stomp out of the bedroom, but there was a loud yowl as Bucky’s tail got caught beneath his shoe.

“You goddamn cat!” he shouted, lifting his foot and clearly aiming a kick at her.

With a cry of sheer rage, Andy flung her hands at him. She had no particular spell in mind, but everything in her was screaming at Nate to stop.

And stop he did.

One second, Nate was standing upright. The next, he was spread-eagle on the floor, his face mashed into the carpet at an unnatural angle.

“The fuck is going on?” he yelled, but since he was mostly facing the ground, it came out kind of muffled.

“You bitch at me for supposedly hiding things from you, you bitch at me when I try to make things better by giving us time away from each other, and then you try to take it out on my cat,” she said, so angry she was actually shaking with the effort of holding herself together. “You want to know what’s going on?”

“Andy...?” There was a note of fear in Nate’s voice that she mentally filed away to think about later.

She flicked her fingers, releasing the hex.

Panting, Nate rolled over. “What the hell was that?” He still sounded scared.

“A spell,” she answered honestly.

“A spell?” he echoed. “What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes. “I mean a spell, moron. You know, magic? Hocus pocus? Surprise, Nate, you’ve been fucking a witch.”

A witch. His lips formed the words, but no sound came out.

“You remember how Lily and I were busy with classes all the time in college?” she asked rhetorically. “Like way more than anyone else you knew? My actual degree is in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Magic.”

All of a sudden, Nate seemed to find his voice. “Andy, have you, like, hit your head on something? Maybe at work?” He pulled himself up to a kneeling position, as if poised to take off running.

She laughed, but there was a hysterical edge to it. “Nate, use your goddamn brain for two seconds,” she said contemptuously. “It all makes sense! Bucky, Lily, my odd hours, even the fact that I’ve never taken you to my parents’ house. One of the reasons it took me so long to find a job here was that I had to apply for all the Muggle paperwork -- birth certificate, Social Security Number, the works. I didn’t exist in any Muggle legal systems until about eight months ago.”

“Muggle,” he repeated stupidly. “I think I get it now. It’s those idiotic kids’ books. It’ll be all right, Andy. I’ll--“

Fuck this, she decided, reaching into her pocket and yanking out her wand. “Levicorpus,” she said, giving her wand a wiggle followed by a sharp flick.

Nate let out a decidedly feminine squeal as his legs flipped over his head and he dangled there, mid-air.

“If you still don’t believe me, I can always turn you into a frog,” she offered sweetly.

His face was turning a dangerous shade of red. “I... you...” he gibbered.

Another wand flick sent him spinning back upright and gently floating to the ground.

“You freak!” he shouted as soon as he hit the floor. “I always knew there was something wrong with you and your freak friends, but I was willing--“

Stupefy,” she said sadly.

Dump him or come clean.

Fat lot of good that did her. He wouldn’t let her dump him, and coming clean was...

Well, a stupid mistake, if she was honest. Fortunately, it was one she could fix.

With a surprisingly even hand, she picked up her cell and dialed. “Yeah, hey,” she said once he’d picked up. “I think I might need some help here.”

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