– Chapter two –
A couple of days later found Jon and I sat in front of our little fire, slurping our way through warm butterbeers. Jon was knackered after a long week toiling away under his monstrosity of a boss, and I was gloomy at the prospect of 'getting a proper job' and 'settling down and giving up this beauty shop nonsense'. My bank statements scattered the coffee table, ringing with red ink and Jon's messy scrawl. The little stacks of additions all came out to the same, depressingly negative number.
Quite simply, there was no way I could afford to do it. The muggles wouldn't give me a loan because they'd think I was crazy. The goblins wouldn't give me a loan because they were utter bastards who deserved to be turned into flobberworm soup and fed to street rats. My parents wouldn't give me a loan because they were high and mighty with their mansion and their herd of Abraxians and they believed in 'making it on your own', A.K.A. they didn't believe I could do it and weren't willing to just throw away that much money.
"You know what you need?" Jon joked, "You need a rich, handsome guy to marry. Then you'd have enough money."
"I'd ask if you're volunteering but we both know you're not handsome or rich." I drawled. "Klaus, maybe…"
That drew a tired chuckle from Jon; even if Klaus wasn't totally uninterested in anything with a vagina, there's no way I could marry him. If marrying Jon was like marrying your dog, marrying Klaus would be like marrying your cat. At least Jon wasn't aloof.
"Come on. You've got to have something going for you that could make some money while you save up for yourself." Jon urged "You got bloody good NEWT grades, why don't you just get a shitty job in the ministry and sit tight until you've got enough for this beauty shop of yours?"
"It'll take me years. Right now no one else has even thought of opening a magical beauty shop. Everyone just does their own charms at home, or goes to a muggle place. I don't want to wait years only to find someone else has stolen my niche."
"Cyn, if this is as good an idea as you seem to think, don't you think other people will copy you anyway?"
I grinned "Yeah, but you know all those spells and potions I've had you patent for me over the years? Only a handful of those were mine, admittedly, but it's not my fault the original people didn't think to patent them themselves. So basically, I own sole rights to most of the beauty spells and potions."
Jon gaped at me, somewhat aghast.
"So they can open their beauty shops all they like, and they can either spend years coming up with alternatives, or they can pay me the royalty fees."
That slimy feeling you're getting? That's just a side effect of my brilliance.
"Sometimes I forget you're a Slytherin, Cyn."
I grinned fondly at my best friend. "Sometimes I wish I could forget you're a Gryffindor, Jon."
That night I made a chocolate pudding for after our curry, just to remind Jon why he loved me. And no, I'm not above bribery either.
"Friday again." Katie muttered, pouring cream over her portion of pudding. "Friday again and I've got four essays due on Monday. What a fantastic weekend I'm gonna have."
Katie was a second year in the healer-training programme. As far as I could tell from the occasional mention she makes of her marks, she was somewhere in the middle of her class, and working hard to stay there. Healer school sounded like a lot of effort, if you asked me.
"At least you're getting a weekend." Jon griped "Mr Boss-You-Know-Who-Dick-Features wants me in both days."
We all winced.
"Maybe you'll get lucky and he'll have died slowly and painfully some time between you leaving his sweat house tonight and arriving there at disgustingly-early-o'clock tomorrow." Klaus offered. "I mean, it could happen."
Dinner finished, we dispersed to our various bolt-holes in Lilac Cottage, Windy Lane, Hogsmeade. That meant Klaus commandeered the window seat in the lounge with a palate in his hand and a canvas propped on his knee, while Katie's healer notes sprawled across our kitchen table. I don't doubt Klaus could hear her bloody annoying foot-tapping thing she does whenever she's got homework to do. That noise, and that noise alone, is enough to put me off fighting Klaus for the window seat.
Jon had a new crime mystery novel, so he'd ensconced himself in the bath with it, and undoubtedly had used my nicest bubble bath. Thieving ratbag that he is. And I was up in my room, messaging friends from Hogwarts who I didn't get much of a chance to meet up with any more.
When I woke up on Saturday it was still raining, still blowing a gale, and my curtains were still letting more light through than they reasonably should. My Saturdays were usually spent at my parent's. Despite my annoyance at their unhelpfulness I knew better than to not show up for the standard Saturday gathering.
I showered (and Jon had indeed stolen some of my bubble bath) and dressed, settling in front of the shitty mirror in my room to sort my face and hair out.
I have the sharp nose and cheeks of my father that look perhaps a bit too prominent in my face for me to look 'pretty'. My eyes were the standard blue colour, and my lips a little wide though my teeth were straight. My hair was my best feature, being long and blonde and readily charmed into whatever style I fancied that day.
I like to think I pull off elegant, and I'm a dab hand with beauty charms. I guess you could say I get the best mileage out of what I was given, anyway.
Visiting my parent's almost invariably involved a very large lunch designed to give you a stitch for the duration of the after-lunch hack around the grounds on my favourite Abraxian. Those were the benefits.
To gain said benefits, one simply had to put up with about five hours of undiluted torture. Your sisters are married now, Cynthia. Haven't you met a nice boy yet, Cynthia? There are plenty you know, if only you'd get out and mingle with the right sorts. You're a nice enough girl, a bit strong willed but there's a boy out there for you. You'll know when you meet him. Oh Cynthia, do give it up about those goblins not giving you that loan. Maybe they saw some flaws in your business plan? Why don't you just get a nice job at the Ministry? Your Uncle Garreth works in the Department of Magical Transport. He mentioned he's looking for a new PA, you'd make a wonderful PA dear. Bla bla bla. You get the gist. On and on and on, as if I'm not following their advice because I didn't hear them first time. Ha! I heard them alright. I just ignored them.
Not that I can tell them that. As much as I like to think I'm a strong, independent witch who don't need no stroppy parents telling me what to do, they do put an allowance of money in my bank account each week. And pay my rent.
Lunch consisted of pheasant with a redcurrent sauce and winter veg, and I did indeed get a stich as Mother and I trotted through the murky, windy rainy Cheshire countryside afterwards. My two sisters were both there with their respective men, and there's nothing like a bossy big sister and a spoilt little sister to have you hurrying home by three o'clock, claiming a headache.
Sometimes I feel sorry for Father having to put up with three daughters and the harpy he married. Then I remember he's a tight-arsed, grumpy old man and doesn't deserve my sympathy. Either way, I scarpered from Selwyn Manner a good two hours earlier than was polite.
Imagine my shock at crawling my way out of our little Lilac Cottage fireplace to find James Potter drinking tea from a Slytherin mug (which makes it my mug), sat at our kitchen table.
"Jon?" There wasn't much else to say that wouldn't have involved stuttering in confusion.
Jon was seated at the end of the table, James to his right. Jon held a slightly battered quill in one hand and his head in the other. He looked like he always did after The Boss From Hell had done something awful.
"Boss was ill today." Jon offered, flicking his wand at the hotplate to warm the kettle up again. "Hope you don't mind I'm working from home?"
Huh, who knew Klaus's prediction of The Boss being indisposed would come true? I shook my head and took to making some tea for myself. If Jon had to work the weekend, at least he was getting the chance to do so from the comfort of our little cottage. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
James tipped his mug up, finishing the last of his tea and held his mug out with a polite smile. "Actually, I wouldn't mind another cup of tea. That Earl Grey is lovely."
Huh. Potter liked my Earl Grey tea, from my Slytherin mug. Who knew, right?
I made my tea, refilled James's, and fetched Jon another coffee. Feeling charitable, I plopped a handful of ginger newts on a plate and set them on the table to the side of the reams of parchment they were pouring over.
"Thanks, Cyn." Jon muttered round a mouthful. "Family ok?"
I shrugged "Same old, same old. Won't give me a loan, want me to hurry up and settle down, fed me 'till I nearly popped. Anyway, don't let me get in your way if you're busy!"
With that, I took my mug and headed through the always-open doorway to the lounge, and set about a lazy tidying session. It wasn't like I had much else to do, and I sure as hell couldn't afford a house elf. Poverty is real.
I put a load of washing through, tidied both Jon's and my own room, owled my parents to thank them for the meal and the (ahem) delightful company. I was startled out of my dusting of the bookshelf in the hallway by the groan and slam of our front door.
"I'm home!" Katie sang "Oh bloody hell, what's James Potter doing in our kitchen?!"
I hurried through, pleased at the prospect of someone to chat to who wasn't busy with work. Even if it was Katie.
Katie was bustling around the kitchen, peering over Potter's shoulder to eye the parchment Jon had just finished writing on. Neither of the boys looked exactly happy. Katie had the total lack of manners to ask what they were doing. I know we all talk about it around the dinner table, but you didn't just ask someone to their face what they were discussing with their lawyer! It was down right rude!
James didn't seem too offended though. Just defeated.
"It's a restraining order against an ex-girlfriend of mine."
"Ooh, really? Gosh, it must be awful for you having some girl follow you around. She's not stolen your knickers or anything like that has she?" Katie chirped, throwing a totally obvious wink at Jon. Fucking Puffers and their non-existant tact.
James gave an awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, something like that."
Jon's ears were pink.
"Are you staying for dinner, James?" I asked, trying to change the subject. "I think we've got some fish if you'd like?"
And that's how James Potter ended up at Lilac Cottage for dinner. When Klaus returned home with a splodge of red paint smeared across his cheek and realised who our dinner guest was, he let out a little gasp, shook James's hand and asked after the portrait he'd done a year previous. James chattered lightly about how pleased his mother had been with it, and how it sat pride of place above the family fireplace in the living room. Klaus looked like he wanted to cry and shriek like the fangirl he was.
"Did you manage to get your work finished?" I asked Jon, glancing at James to check he wasn't bothered by the slight invasion of privacy.
Jon nodded. "It's all finished, mostly, but I'm not sure either of us are convinced it's going to do much good. This girl seems pretty insistent, doesn't she, James?"
James nodded with a grimace "Merlin only knows why I dated her in the first place. You know, she sent me an owl about a week ago with a contract she'd written in her own blood, stating that until she had proof I was happily in love with another girl she would always wait for me."
"Blood?!" Katie's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets "Her own blood?! Is she crazy?"
"Well that's a redundant question if I've ever heard one." Klaus pointed out.
Klaus was right, but the others didn't seem to have realised that the girl herself had given James an out.
"Why don't you just pretend to fall in love then?"
Four pairs of eyes stared at me as though I'd just admitted I was actually a Balrog.
"What? It makes sense. Just get all cosy-like with someone, then she'll stop this madness. She has to, a blood contract is almost as binding as an unbreakable vow."
There was a moment of silence while everyone digested that. Jon was the first to come round, used to my schemes as he was. His face slowly brightened into a smile, no doubt thinking about how pleased his boss would be if he managed to solve the Potter's stalker issue.
"You know what, Cyn, that could just work."
