Chapter 1: A Payroll of One
London, 2034
It was well past mid-morning when George Weasley walked through his shop, made his way through the back of the Diagon Alley location of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and sat down in Rose's office, his usual routine. She assured him that there was nothing new for him except the latest sales figures, reminded him that he needed to restock the bubble wands and order more promotional materials for the new shop opening in Australia. Of course this wasn't what he was interested in.
"Come on, Rosie, you can tell me. I know we've said that topic is off-limits, but this is important."
Rose shook her head. "You know I'm not allowed to say anything when it comes to the sex of babies. Remember what happened with the Boyd twins?"
"You were little then, couldn't help it. Now I know that there are rules, but there are always areas that are less-explored."
"How much do you have on this one? Rose shook her head. "Fifty Galleons or something?"
George shook his head and sat back in the chair. "Merlin, no! You know me better than that. It's three Sickles with your cousin. You know how much he hates to lose."
"You made a bet with your own son on what sex the baby will be? Does Gin know you're betting on that?"
After stepping back a couple of paces from Rosie's desk, George shook his head. "Of course my daughter-in-law doesn't know, you know how she gets and now that she's pregnant, well it's considerably scary. Not that I couldn't handle it, of course, with my prodigious magical skills, but it would be best to not wind her up. When she and Hugo were over for supper the other night I might have asked her whether she was leaning towards a boy or a girl, and she wouldn't say, but…"
Rose held up her hand and stopped him. "Has it ever occurred to you that I might have already said something to Gin?"
George squinted at her and then raised an eyebrow. "Ah-ha! That's it! You already know, and you've told Gin, but…"
"Don't you have some paperwork to do?" Rose pulled back her curly hair and tied it up quickly. "I know that I have plenty."
George left the office and Rose could hear him muttering something about how he was the owner of the company, should be respected, things like that. After making sure he was safely out of her hair Rose took a deep breath and looked at her desk. The piles of folders were all very neatly organized, color coded to make filing easier, and the different colored ink bottles all stood in perfect alignment at the top of the desk. After taking out her wand and doing her daily dusting Rose picked up the framed picture on the corner of her desk. Her husband Simon sat in the grass as their boys made various attempts to escape his grasp and make their way out of the picture's boundaries. Graham was completely a two-year old, as he pushed away from Simon and made his body as slippery as possible, holding up his arms and wiggling away. The older two, so close in age, were fighting as usual. For a brief moment Walter, so good natured at five, looked straight at the camera but soon Nigel, a year younger, took the Auror toy away from his brother and threw it completely out of the picture, causing a scuffle to commence between the two of them. Rose's favorite part of the photo soon happened, as Simon let Graham slip away and the older boys ran out of the frame, and Simon just looked straight ahead and smiled as if to say "They did their best, but you know how they are."
After replacing the picture in the proper spot Rose spent the rest of the morning on the books, examining sales trends and the effect of the recent advertising push. Working for her Uncle George was usually never boring, and although most people, especially Hugo, thought her job "soul-crushingly tedious" Rose found it fascinating.
It didn't take long to get everything squared away, and after looking at her watch Rose decided that she could spare an hour or so for her "little side-project" as she called it. She'd had to hide it from her Uncle George, as if her "little project" ever became public, especially if it became known that she was running the company, it would be somewhat difficult to explain. As she took out the folders from the bottom desk drawer she heard Simon's voice in her head, as she did every time she worked on the project. "Rosie's little Galleon-generating hobby" he called it, and he teased her about it, especially as it hadn't worked at all for her, but the testimonials from her clients were effusive. The latest letter brought a smile to her face as she glanced at it momentarily.
Magical Match changed my life! I would have never considered my husband before, but we've just celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary and are expecting our first child! Thank you Magical Match!
Rose set aside the letter and looked at the current advertisement. It was effective, of course, but it seemed to lack something. She took out a fresh sheet of parchment and started writing. After stopping once, making a few corrections and adding on, she thought it looked promising.
Unlucky in love? Just haven't met the right person? Let Magical Match find the right person for you! Fill out our questionnaire, send it in and we will find the perfect person to end those lonely days. We staff our company with only the most skilled Seers, providing YOU with the means to meet the person of your dreams! Minimal investment required, please see all terms and limitations, Galleon back guarantee if not fully satisfied.
"Most skilled seers," that made Rose laugh slightly. Was it wrong to intimate that there was a large staff of seers, instead of just her? Probably, but until she met someone else with her particular skills, the payroll would be wonderfully easy to maintain.
When Rose arrived home that night she could smell wonderful things coming from the kitchen, so she sat her bag down in it's proper place and headed towards the kitchen, stepping over the Auror and dragon toys that were, once again, in the middle of the floor.
"Smells wonderful, Simon." Rose went over to her husband and put her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his back. "What is it?"
"Lasagna, and it's nowhere near ready." He put down the spoon on the side of the stove on the spoon rest and turned towards Rose. "Good day, I take it?"
"Hmmm, yes. Uncle George tried to get me to tell him if his newest grandchild will be a boy or a girl, disbursed an obscene amount of gold to the research department, straightened out the advertising campaign for the Cardiff shop and wrote a new advert for The Prophet."
Simon cocked his head at his wife. "For George or for Magical Match?"
"Match." Rose stepped away from Simon and walked over towards the French bread, enchanted a knife and cut the bread lengthwise. "Got fourteen new questionnaires today. One match, but that was it."
"Need any help?" Simon wiped his hands on the flowered apron that Gran Molly had given Rose. "It's just us tonight, and I don't have to be out of town until Friday, so…"
Rose looked up, confused. "Where are the boys?"
"Your dad came 'round about an hour or so, said he needed to show them something. He didn't say what, exactly, but I heard Nigel say something about brooms. I think you can probably guess the rest."
Rose's shoulders drooped and she shook her head. "Mum's going to kill him. Toy brooms, I know it. He's been dropping hints for months now, but Mum wouldn't let him do it."
"Yeah, Hermione's been pretty adamant about that. I'm sure it'll be interesting when we pick them up or when he brings them home." He walked over to Rose and slid his arm around her waist. "You know lasagna takes a long time to cook. Plenty of time."
She smacked his hand, but leaned into his chest. "Three is plenty, thank you very much. I'm not competing with my grandparents. I already look like Gran, isn't that enough?"
Simon rested his chin on the top of Rose's head. "You don't look like your gran, the hair's all wrong." Simon could feel her sigh, so he knew he had to say something quickly or the evening would dissolve into one of those evenings. "Besides, you're much prettier. Not that your gran wasn't good in her day, mind you, but…"
"Come on, Simon. I'm not quite as wide as I am tall, but I'm getting there. And I found a gray hair the other day! I'm only twenty-eight! At this rate I'll be completely white by forty."
"I don't care, Rosie. Besides, your mum's hair isn't gray. I'm sure you'll be fine."
Rose shook her head. "She colors it. Dad's been doing it for her for years."
Simon laughed loudly. "Ron Weasley, hairdresser? The Assistant Minister of Magic moonlights as a hairdresser? I can't wait until the boys come home."
Later that night, after the boys had been put to sleep and Simon had started his usual snoring, Rose couldn't sleep. She slid from the bed, not worrying about waking her husband as when he went to sleep he was out like a light. It was while putting on her dressing robe that she caught her reflection in the mirror that hung on the back of the closet door. Rose took a few steps closer to the mirror, and in the small amount of light that came through the window she looked closely at herself, talking quietly as she examined herself.
"At least I'm taller than Gran, but not by much." She pulled her nightdress close around her body and sighed. "If we did have another any hope of having a waist, let alone fitting in my old dresses would be history. Mum's hair, Dad's complexion, still too many freckles, and Gran's body. No wonder Graham says 'Mummy' when he looks at old pictures of Gran." Rose leaned in closely, looking at her face. "Maybe I should ask Lily if she knows any anti-wrinkling spells. I'm sure that will happen next."
Simon half-snorted, rolled over in bed and was silent for a few seconds, and then the usual droning snore began.
Rose turned towards the bed and looked at her husband's sleeping form. "At least I have you, Simon. Never saw that one coming, and I'm glad that I didn't."
After fixing a cup of decaffeinated tea Rose sat in her little sewing room, rocking back and forth in her favorite chair while knitting needles did their work over in the corner. The blue baby blanket for Gin and Hugo was coming together quickly, and then it would be on to the Weasley Christmas jumpers. She'd drawn names with her Gran for who they would be making jumpers for that year, and the draw had been pretty good except for Xavier. Her cousin was always very picky about his jumpers, almost to the point of rudeness the last time, but her Uncle Charlie had straightened that out quickly. Rose chalked it up to the fact that he was in his last year at Hogwarts. He still hadn't decided on what to do after Hogwarts, and Rose knew that at Christmas somehow they'd find a way for her to have "the future talk" with Xavier. It wasn't blatantly obvious, but Rose knew that all of her family at one time or another had tried to talk with her to get insight to questions they had. Being a seer wasn't all that it was cracked up to be most of the time. At least it would be fairly easy to talk to Xavier; the boy wore his emotions on his sleeve.
Rose looked out the window toward the lights of London. So many people out walking around without a clue, and she wondered if sometimes that wasn't better. As she told her family, she wasn't always right, but what she didn't say was that somehow or other she was always right; it was the interpretation, not the vision itself that was usually the issue. Albus was the prime example of that, as Rose had seen Albus on a date, but it wasn't a romantic date, just a friendly outing. After that incident she tried not to interpret, just to report. But those people out there, the ones walking through the streets, eating at restaurants and sleeping, they didn't know what was going to happen next, they just let the events take them along, swept up in the stream of "the now."
Rose got up from her chair, pulled a folder off of the sewing table and sat down cross-legged on the floor. After taking out all of the questionnaires she sat them face down on the floor and spread them apart. Something was keeping her awake, and it was probably the matches. She took a sip of tea and set her cup and saucer off to the side, out of the way in case it would spill somehow. After all of the questionnaires were separated she began looking at them, and then pulled one of them out from the left and looked suddenly over to her right, taking up a piece of parchment that was mostly hidden under another questionnaire. She put the two parchments together, and it began.
The clouds were dark and full as rain came down in small waves, the wind pushing it across an open field. A dark-haired woman walked out of a small, rustic looking house and tightened her scarf around her throat, took a few steps into the field with her blue Wellies, jammed her rain hat down over her head and walked towards a barn. As the woman walked into the barn the rain ceased, bright lights encompassed everything and the smell of hay was prevalent. The woman turned sharply and walked towards the light where a man in a frayed green coat sat in the hay, holding something small. He smiled up at the woman and the woman knelt down close to him. In his arms the man held four newborn puppies. The woman sat down next to the man in the hay, put her hands gently on one of the puppies, and then gave the man a tender kiss on the lips.
As soon as it had started it was over. Rose blinked several times, sat the questionnaires down and reached for her tea. A soft touch of fur against her knee helped bring her back to the present, and she looked over towards the fat gray kneazle cat. "Pippy, you know you're not supposed to be in here." The cat began purring and sat in her lap, ignoring the fact that he was supposedly banned from the sewing room due to a rather unfortunate yarn incident. Rose petted the cat, and a few moments after draining the cup she turned over the questionnaires that had sparked her vision.
"Well, Pippy, this will certainly be interesting. Mortimer Flipshod, farmer in his early twenties and Celine Wilperk. She's at least ten years older than he is." Rose glanced at the questionnaires and shook her head. "Eleven. Well, I'm sure this will be interesting. Let's see what they had to say."
Rose looked over the questionnaires and it was as usual; nothing on the questionnaires would have ever led her to put that witch and wizard together. Flipshod was a Hufflepuff when he attended Hogwarts, inherited the farm from his grandfather and was looking for someone who enjoys the outdoors, cooking and quiet nights at home. Wilperk, on the other had, was a low-level executive at Jensen's Famous Floo Powder, had attended Beauxbatons and loved fashion, going to the WeasleyVision movies and going out dancing. A country boy and a chic, London executive.
"Pippy, I think I remember Mortimer from Hogwarts. Always a quiet boy." She petted the cat, and Pippy rolled over in her lap. "Yes, I'll scratch your tummy. You are such a baby."
With one hand on the cat Rose put the questionnaires of Mortimer Flipshod and Celine Wilperk together. After retrieving her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown she gave it a small flick, and the two questionnaires joined together at the top. Rose turned towards the questionnaires, but nothing stirred so she placed them all back in the file. Maybe there would be some more questionnaires tomorrow.
The next morning Rose got out of bed rather late; she knew she'd slept too long when she couldn't feel Simon in bed with her. If Simon beat her out of bed, it never ended well. She got out of bed quickly and threw on her dressing gown, not bothering with her slippers. In times like this speed was of the essence.
The moment she arrived in the kitchen her fears were realized; Simon stood at the stove while her boys sat in various states of dress at the table, food and spilled milk covering Graham's hair while Walter and Nigel fought over the last piece of bacon.
"I'm bigger, I need more." Walter's fork was on the bacon, but Nigel wasn't backing down.
"You eat everything. I never get food. You eat Pippy's food if…"
Rose could feel it building, but it was out before she could think. "ENOUGH!"
Simon and the boys looked over to Rosie. Simon's face immediately melted into an expression of gratitude, but the boys looked nervous.
Rose walked over to the table, removed Walter's fork and picked up the last piece of bacon. "Your father will make more, you are not starving, nobody is eating Pippy's food and for the love of Merlin, Graham, the food goes in not on." She took out her wand and cleaned up Graham, fixed a cup of tea, sat down at the table and fixed her two oldest sons with a withering gaze. She picked up the piece of bacon and shook it at Walter and Nigel. "What would Granny Hermione say if she saw you two right now?"
Simon placed a plate of bacon on the table and whispered in Rose's ear "I'm not sure what she'd say, but your Dad would ask if you were going to eat that or not."
With an irritated expression Rose took her hand and shooed her husband away. "I think I'll take them to school today. Maybe I should have a talk with Mrs. Ryder-Smythe."
Nigel shrugged but Walter looked as if all the blood had drained from his face. "Mum, no, um, she's…gone. She's not…"
Rose looked over at her middle son. "Walter Oliver Wood, I would stop right there if I was you. Do you really want to go down that path again?"
Walter shrunk down in his seat; he knew from that tone that his mum wasn't fooling around. He sat quietly for a moment, chin almost pinned to his chest and he couldn't look at his mum. "No, Mum."
Rose and Simon looked at each other briefly and both of them rolled their eyes. Rose pursed her lips slightly, and then looked over to Walter. "That's what I thought." She popped the piece of bacon into her mouth and shook her head. She had no idea how her Granny Weasley had managed.