Baby Girl III – The Dream Come True
Chapter One: Rebellious Lovers
Author's Note: Well everyone, this is the story in the Baby Girl Trilogy. This story does not consist of one chapter as the previous two do. There was too much to cram into this one. There are three chapters and the epilogue. So enjoy, I hope you like it, and as always, please leave a review! Thanks a million!
Racing through the back alleys of London streets on a Saturday night was the best way to go through a well charged bank of adrenaline. Especially when there were four thugs right behind you shouting out every curse in the book when you dodged another seemingly impossible-to-get-around obstacle. But hey, what else was magic for other than to turn the unbelievers into believers.
It was when I spotted the brick wall in front of me that I really gulped down the adrenaline and held on for the ride. Taking out my wand I took a deep breath and stepping up on a loose crate I lifted myself into the air, rocketing over the high wall as well as the building it belonged to. I silently called up my broomstick while in midair and it met me on my way down. I glided off into the distance towards a hill. On that hill stood Malfoy Manor, a house that was far from warm, but it welcomed me home at the end of the day, no matter what that day had brought me.
Before I reached my destination however I was struck out of the air by an electric blue flash of magic that knocked me clean off my broom. My broomstick kept right on going, the lucky thing, and I plummeted straight towards the cobblestone streets of London. I had my wand out instantly once more, directing its energy towards the ground, hoping to steady myself for a somewhat safe landing. Before I could cleanly make up the words in my mind I was caught in some kind of force field that held me still. I still fell, but more like a feather than a rock now. I was being guided.
Ugh, was my first reaction. A girl just cannot have any fun around here. The fact that I was being guided was the first tip that the end result wasn't going to be good, despite the fact that I wouldn't be a pancake when I hit the ground. No, I would just be in heaps of trouble when I touched down.
Bucking up my resilient defenses, I let my right foot graze the ground and I was suddenly released from the force field. The power retreated towards the mouth of a small alley and out from the dark stepped a figure. Shadowed in black clothes, the only light that the body held was the blonde hair on the top of his head that was reflected by the brief glimpses of the moon as it went in and out of the clouds overhead.
Raising my hand I gestured for him to come over, meanwhile saying, "Come on, let's hear this? I'll bet you I can say this lecture word for word by now. Ten galleons let's say?"
"Chris, this is no laughing matter," the figure said.
"Believe me Scorpius; laughing has nothing to do with it."
He lifted his head and I saw the piercing eyes of my big brother. At three years shy of forty he still looked young and vigilant, which would explain his being here tonight. He was still keeping an eye on his little sister, a fact that he would never, ever, let me forget!
"You're damn right I won't let you forget," he said, probing into my temporal lobe, a habit he had picked up when he was younger. His ability to read thoughts really just ticked me off. Chuckling he came closer towards me, "I only read your thoughts, Chris, probably because you exercise no strength in hiding them from me."
"Just stay out of my head Scorpius," I retorted.
"No need to get angry."
"Wanna bet?"
"Another ten galleons? Do you even have twenty galleons, Sis? Huh? Last I heard you were still bumming off of mom and dad, because you still can't find a job. Isn't that right?" I averted my eyes. "I don't even need to wait for an answer to that one, Chris. This has gone on far too long. This tom-foolery has got to stop."
"Yeah, and who's going to stop me?"
"Hey, I know how you feel. Took me a long time to settle down too. I think it's in our genes. Messing around his a Malfoy trait. It's dampened itself out in the past generations though. I'm not nearly as dark as Dad, and you, well; you're just out for the fun of it. You have no real goals. And if you're not careful, Mom and Dad will see that too and well then you know what happens next?"
I heaved a sigh in the dark night and looked away from my brother. It wasn't hard to guess. I had seen my parents do it to my brother five years ago because he wasn't moving as fast as they would have liked. They made him marry someone he didn't have the smallest incline towards liking. Belle was only now, five years later, expecting their first child, and there was more than a few rumours going around that it wasn't even Scorpius' kid. I looked towards Scorpius and he shook his head, as if affirming that it wasn't. "Tough break," I said.
He just shrugged. "My best defense is to stay away from it all. I'll raise him as mine, but I don't even know how much longer this marriage will last."
I wrinkled my nose. If that ever happened to me, I would probably just break down in a fit of hysterics to get away from it. I'd rather be in a loony-bin than shacked up in a marriage I had no interested in being in.
"You want my advice, Sis?" Scorpius asked, taking my hand and directing me down the street. We were on our way home now. We'd stood in the London road at midnight for long enough. I nodded, as if I had any choice. "Find him yourself."
I snorted, a very unladylike thing to do, but I was beyond caring. "Find him myself? Where? Where would I find a guy who was good enough for both me and Mom and Dad?"
"Don't worry about pleasing Mom and Dad," he laughed. "Their lids are screwed on so tight no amount of twisting will unhinge them. But if you find him first, if they can at least tolerate him, you'll be home free."
"Ugh. But why would I want to get married at twenty-one? I know you always said I would, but seriously, why would anyone choose that?"
He shrugged, "Beats me, Sis. But what matters is that you settle down. What matters is that he makes you realize that gallivanting around the streets of London at one in the morning is not the way you want to spend the rest of your days."
"Hey," I protested, rather indignantly, "It's not one in the morning yet."
Scorpius raised his eyebrows and off in the distance I heard London tower clock clang. Once. Narrowing my gaze at my brother I raised my hand and slapped him in the arm.
Laughing he said, "Hey, can you blame a brother for being right?"
I rolled my eyes, "Yes, yes I can. And I will. Now go away."
"Fine," he replied. "But just remember what I said eh? You find him before they find him for you. Because the latter isn't going to toot your horn like the former will."
"Toot my horn?" I asked confused. But before I could get any answer he turned into a wisp of air and apparated to wherever he was staying tonight as he rarely spent nights with Belle.
I walked up the hill towards Malfoy Manor and as I gripped the cold rails of the gate to push it open my head was daunting towards the idea that I might have to find a husband sooner rather than later. The idea threw me for a loop, and I didn't like it one bit.
***
Callum MacArthur took one step out of the tall London skyscraper and dozens of ladies swooned at the image of respectability and nouveaux-riche. He had the money not to mention the class of a fine up-standing British Citizen. His hair was a deep chestnut brown colour, his eyes a subtle gold colour, like old whiskey held up to candlelight, and his big broad shoulders took up any doorway, making him look that much more menacing. But he was far from menacing. His business disposition called for intimidating, but he was sick and tired of people taking him for a businessman through and through.
He hailed a cab from the sidewalk and hopping in he wondered what would be on the stove for dinner when he arrived him. His cook never failed to surprise him. Meals were usually the one thing he looked forward to at the end of a long rough day. And most days were rough. Since turning thirty, he was constantly reminded that this was not how a successful, fully mature man went home at the end of the day. His mother usually phoned twice a day to discuss the matter.
The cab dropped him off at the far side of London, where he was able to enjoy the city scenery to the one side, and the rolling English hills to the other. The long driveway with high-security gates only added to the splendor of the house he had purchases five years ago. His whizz-kid days had certainly paid off. He was down-to-earth and practical, logical, and took his numbers seriously.
He went through the front door of his mansion, a classic yet modern stylized home that initially was a hundred years old, but with every comfort of modern society added to the bundle. He poured himself a snifter of brandy to wind down, dropping his briefcase and jacket in his office before making his way to the kitchen. Laid out on the table was a full place setting, complete with silver tray and cover. Underneath the cover was a simple meal for one: Pasta Primavera with garlic toast, a glass of cold milk to the side and a paper already folded to the stock exchange page.
He sat down with his snifter in hand and had just laid the napkin in his lap when there was a grand ringing that echoed throughout the house. Someone was at the door. And Callum had made two guesses before he settled on the caller. Call it a son's intuition. Heaving a sigh, he replaced the cover on his meal and took off towards the front door, knowing that his mother wouldn't wait to be let in. The sooner he stopped her, the better. Letting her past the foyer, or god forbid, into the kitchen would start one of her classic lectures, on the way a grown and successful man was supposed to live.
Margery MacArthur was as nouveaux-riche as her son, but she hadn't earned it like he had. She had married into it. She firmly believed in keeping the money to the top and so marrying off her son to a high-class lady was top priority. Callum opened the front door, almost amazed that his mother had chosen to stand there, rather than letting herself in. "Mother," he greeted, looking less than enthused.
"Callum, darling. Have I caught you at a bad time?" She asked this so innocently, but he knew very well she was wheedling her way into his life again. He hated when she tried to act naive, as if she was almost wishing that he'd come to the door in nothing but boxers and an open shirt, caught in the act. Seeing him in his work pants, dress shirt and barely loosened tie didn't improve her mood at all. "Dinner for one again?"
Callum knew better than to respond, simply stepping back and allowing her into his home. Shutting the door he walked into the sitting room with his mother. She sat primly on the very edge of the settee, her hands clasped gracefully in her lap. He eyed her suspiciously. "What is this mother?"
"What is what?" she asked. He raised an eyebrow and she reached into her jacket pocket. "Oh I was just cleaning out the attic this morning."
"You were cleaning out the attic?" he folded his arms questioningly. "I find that very hard to believe."
Margery smiled, "Believe what you want, but nonetheless, I found this." She set a small blue velvet box on the coffee table. "I just thought that it might be handy, you know, in the future."
Callum sat down in the chair across from his mother's and looked directly at her. "Say what you mean to say, as plainly as possible, Mother. No use beating around the bush."
Margery smiled and dropped her innocent act. "You always were a stubborn boy. Look, your father and I have been talking."
"Since when?"
"Don't interrupt, Callum." She crossed her legs, something that Callum called her serious pose. "We have decided to invite you over for dinner tomorrow night. Don't argue because it'll do you no good at all. We've invited a nice girl. She's charming, sophisticated…"
"Has a lot of money, and her parents are in a business that Father is trying to do a huge business merger with. I know the ploy Mother. I'll go to your dinner, if only to appease you. But don't expect anything else."
Crossing her arms now, Margery glared at him, "Goodness boy, you give less accurate results than the United States stock exchange numbers."
"That's what you get for sending me to Harvard."
"Clearly." She stood up abruptly and walked towards the door. "Listen Callum, you need to stop dallying and get married. You might be surprised what a wife will do for a man's career. Didn't I hear something about your office holding a vacation, married couples only?"
"So?"
"Wouldn't you like to go to Cancun?"
"No."
Margery huffed before opening the front door, "Fine, have it your way. But believe me, you're going to want a wife before long. It's what your father and I both want. It'll give you some peace."
"You know, Mother, playing to my sympathies might actually work if you knew who I was anymore. Focus on your dinner and stop trying to act like you know me."
Margery opened her mouth to speak, but stopped short, spinning on her heel, her hair whipping out behind her. Callum shook his head before shutting the door behind her. The woman who had raised him had turned into a cold-hearted harpy, bent on marrying him off to the highest bidder. It drove him up the wall.
Returning to the kitchen he grabbed his plate and utensils before going to his office. Switching on his computer he turned in his swivel chair to look towards the rolling hills and forget his mother's visit. The humming of his computer booting up gave him a relaxed feeling.
Watching the hills, his eyes drew to a tall Manor out over the distance. It was a cold-looking place, much like the one he had been raised in. Thinking about his childhood irritated him. He downed the rest of his brandy and blinked twice before turning to his meal. He looked up once more to the house on that hill and caught an image of something flying through the air towards him. His first thoughts jumped to the least logical: a witch flying a broomstick. As he sat and calculated the odds he shook his head again, thinking it might be some trick of the brandy. But it didn't go away. It kept coming closer and closer until it was right in front of his window, shooting towards him like a stray bullet.
He backed up and hit his desk before he could do anything about the person coming towards him on a broomstick out of control.
CRASH!!!!
Author's Note:: Well, what did ya think? Please leave a review. Thanks a million!