Skeeter walked to the Leaky Cauldron, a black peacoat and felt scarf wound tightly around him, keeping him warm in the frozen, chilled air around him. The snow was getting sort of slushy but it did not matter. The air outside was still like ice against his clean-shaven face. There was still a breeze to run through his hair, to send shivers rattling down his spine, keep him burrowing his face into the scarf, hands shaking in the gloves.
That was it. It was time to cut his losses and Apparate the rest of the way. He stepped into an alley and turned on the spot. He appeared in another alley and for a minute stayed frozen, holding his wand tightly in his hand just in case there were any curious muggles nearby who needed their memories to be modified. Usually he would not have risked it, but it was a frigid day and he really did not want to walk the whole way from his townhouse to the Leaky Cauldron.
It seemed that his appearance had gone unnoticed. The muggles did not want to risk the freezing air any more than he did, and it seemed most had decided to stay home. The usual crowded street was nearly completely empty, an almost eerie sight. He pulled his scarf around him tighter, nestling into his warm clothes as he moved out of the alley, turning his head against the icy wind as he made his way against the current of wind, slipping into the Leaky Cauldron.
He was immediately greeted by warmth and the smiles of a few wizards who recognized him, mostly from the Ministry. He grinned, showing his white teeth to them, his face dimpling slightly as it often did when he smiled. He pulled his gloves off by the fingers and tucked them into the pocket of his peacoat, shaking them out and holding up a hand to acknowledge those who had recognized and greeted him.
He did not, however, go and sit with any of them, continue any conversation they were trying to start, or accept any offers of drinks. He did not feel like 'usual' company today, even if it was true that on most days Skeeter did not consort with these people. He had a few friends from school that he hung out with, but he had yet to make too many close friends with people he worked with, though he did have a few. None seemed to be here though.
He turned and walked over to the bar, sliding onto a stool and knocking his knuckles on the bar and humming slightly. The barman walked down the bar, dragging a rag with him before stopping in front of Skeeter, turning the rag in small circles. “Afternoon, Skeeter.”
“Afternoon, Bernard.”
“What can I do fer you?”
“Um...” he sighed. “A Firewhiskey.”
“Tough day?”
“You could say that.”
“What's going on?”
“Nothing out of ordinary. That's the problem.”
Bernard smiled, tipping his head at Skeeter as though to say ”Amen” before tucking the rag in his back pocket and turning around to get Skeeter his drink. Skeeter turned his head to the left and right to see who else was at the bar. Down on the opposite end, a man was slumping against the bar as his overturned drink dripped down the bar. The opposite end offered a man and woman who were whispering into each other's ears and getting closer and closer. Skeeter sighed and faced forward. Wonderful company.
Bernard brought him the Firewhiskey and Skeeter gave him a thankful smile, slipping his hands in his pocket to begin to withdraw the coins to pay for the drink. Bernard held up his hands, the rag in one of them. “No need, Skeeter. Paid fer.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
“By who?”
Bernard nodded his head. “You owe me one another day.”
Skeeter grinned at the barman who moved down the line to go and pick up the overturned drink and supply the couple with more alcohol. Skeeter reached out and took a swig of the Firewhiskey, which seemed to put a bit of his lost spark back into him. He tisked his mouth at the taste and sighed, settling onto the chair, his large hands wrapping around the drink.
What a day.