His escort and he hadn't talked since the rush to get out of the Ministry. She had insisted all explanations had to wait until they both were "someplace safe". Ed had a good idea what that meant.
The frumpy woman across from him looked about them, nervously clutching at a purse in her lap.
'So. She finally spotted them too.'
Lazily he stretched his arms over his head. One quick glance told him all he needed to know.
'Almost too close.'
He smiled widely, and stood up.
"I need to be making use of..is it 'restroom'?" He said.
"We call it the 'loo' actually, Mr. Elric. " Mrs Figg replied brightly, and figited in her discomfort.
"Ah. Da 'luu'. Den." He said with a nod. "Zank you, Mrs. Figg."
"Your quite welcome, Mr. Elric."
The little coffee shop they sat in front of had a crowd of people within, and Ed made his way though them without much trouble. He had to wait at the restroom door for a few moments before it became available. Once inside he locked the door, sighing in relief that didn't have any stalls. In fact, it held only a single toilet, and sink with a heavily scratched up mirror on the tiled wall.
'Hard to believe this is but a block or two away from that place.' Ed thought. 'And. They're following me.'
Ed removed the sweater, pants, and gloves. Carefully, he laid them on the tiled floor. In just his undershorts, he squatted down, thinking.
'Sweater's mostly wool. Same with pants. Dyes...hmm. Colbalt. Verillium. Cadium...'
Equation firmly in mind, he clapped his mismatched hands together, and touched the clothes. Blue light flashed. The sweater and pants now were a kind of dull gray-brown in color, and between them was a small pile of dust.
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley" Ed whispered in Amestrian, as he carefully gathered the dust into his right metal hand, to the metal plate on the palm. "Should be just enough..."
Ed went to the sink, stopped up the drain with paper towels, then filled it with water. He then dropped in the powder. Quickly, he pulled his hair out of the ponytail, freeing his long golden hair, which he tossed into a rough bundle over his right shoulder. He clapped his hands. He touched the sides of the sink, and lowered his hair to the water so that it just touched. Blue light flashed.
He rose and regarded himself in the mirror. Before him stood a black haired youth with startling gold eyes. If he ignored the automail port on the right shoulder, then his eyes were the real problem.
'Can't do a thing about them.' He thought, wishing a moment for dark glasses. He clapped his hands, and touched his white gloves to the water. Blue light flashed. And he set them aside. He looked down at the sweater and pants, thinking.
Sudden pounding on the door made him jump.
"'OY! 'Urry it up in dere!"
"Hold yur breetch is!!" Ed yelled, in irritation, trying his best to hide his accent. He frowned, and stuck out his tongue slightly, hating how stupid it sounded to his ears.
Equation firmly in mind, Ed clapped mismatched his hands. And touched the sweater. Blue light flashed. He quickly dressed and drained the sink. With one last glance at the mirror, he decided to leave his hair down. He even mussed his unruly bangs with his right, making them even more unruly.
'It'll have to do.' He thought. Then he opened the door.
Keeping his head and chin tilted down, he causally passed by the frumpy looking woman sitting at the table. Across from her was the human pile of rags he recognised as being Mundungus.
"..should be any minute now. He's just in the loo.." He heard her say.
'She'll be fine,' Ed thought, feeling slightly less guilty now that he knew his escort would be safe.
She didn't give him second look at all when he trudged his way to the street, hands in his pockets. He spotted some people in robes, spaced thoughout the crowd walking the sidewalks...the ones that were following him. They too, didn't take notice. He even brushed against one of them, and heard a muttered apology.
Ed was now dressed in a off-white, woolen, long sleeved, high collared shirt, grayish long pants, and black gloves on both hands. Long hair dyed black, hanging loose down to his mid back and hiding his golden eyes in the shade.
He was free. Anonymous. So. He just kept on walking.
"I knew it!" yelled Ron, punching the air. "You always get away with stuff!"
"They were bound to clear you,"said Hermione, who had looked positively faint with anxiety when Harry had entered the kitchen and was now holding a shaking hand over her eyes. "There was no case against you, none at all.."
"Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering they all knew I'd get off," said Harry, smiling.
Mrs. Weasley was wiping her face on her apron, and Fred, George, and Ginny were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went "He got off, he got off, he got off--"
"That's enough, settle down!" shouted Mr. Weasley, though he too was smiling. "Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry--"
"What?" Sirius said sharply.
"He got off, he got off, he got off--"
"Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on level nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together. Dumbledore ought to know."
"Absolutely, " said Sirius. "We'll tell him, don't worry."
"Well, I'd better get going, there's a vomiting toilet in Bethnal Green waiting for me. Molly, I'll be late, I' covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner--"
"He got off, he got off, he got off--"
"That's enough--Fred--George--Ginny!" said Mrs. Weasley, as Mr. Weasley left the kitchen. "Harry dear, come and sit down. Have some lunch, you hardly ate breakfast.."
:::
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