Ok, I'm resorting to begging. PLEASE read and review!
Disclaimer: Potter does not belong to me. Otherwise I would be a lot better off.
The First Day is Always the Worst
A loud scream startled Padma from her very deep sleep.
"Wake up!"
She rolled over, falling off her bed, covers and all, onto the hardwood floor. Frantic, she flailed her arms around, trying to get out from under the mass of blankets and turn off the alarm before it could rouse the entire neighborhood, but the more she struggled, the more entangled she seemed to become. Meanwhile, the alarm was reaching an earsplitting volume.
"TIME TO WAKE UP!!!"
Finally, she managed to kick off the covers and slam her hand onto the off button. The silence was deafening. Padma leaned against her bedside table, trying to remember why she had set her alarm for the ungodly hour of seven in the morning. Then it hit her, she had to be at the apothecary promptly at eight. She leapt up, her feet catching in the pile of blankets. She promptly fell to the floor, hitting her head on the table.
"Bloody hell!" she cried out, her head already throbbing.
More carefully this time, she got up and stumbled to her bathroom to shower.
George Weasley paced back and forth in front of the Apothecary's door, waiting for it to open. The night before, he and Fred had run out of numerous potion ingredients. They had made three times the normal amount of their products due to the impending Christmas rush and were hoping to make still more. Despite it being so early in their careers, they already rivaled Zonko's in sales.
The door swung open, and the owner, Mr. Swarthmore, allowed him inside.
"And how are you this fine morning, Mr. Weasley?" he asked.
George inspected the spices littering the front counter, looking for the familiar ingredients amongst the feathers, fangs, claws, and barrels.
"Fantastic. I notice you took down the 'Help Wanted' sign."
"I did. A very pretty young lady…"
Mr. Swarthmore did not finish his thought, for at that moment, a girl stumbled out of the fireplace, rubbing her right temple furiously. A large bruise was forming there. George recognized her instantly as one of the Patil twins, most likely Padma. He believed he would have known Parvati instantly having been in the same house as her for nearly five years.
"I'm SO sorry I'm late," she apologized frantically, "I had a little accident and…"
"It's alright, Miss…" Mr. Swarthmore paused, "I don't believe I bothered to get your name yesterday."
"Patil, Padma Patil."
"Wonderful. Please help Mr. Weasley find what he needs. He's one of our best customers."
Padma rushed to the front counter, still rubbing the bruise on her temple. One of the Weasley twins was carefully inspecting a bottle of powdered asphodel. As a twin, Padma felt that she should have been able to tell the difference between Fred and George the way Parvati could, but she had not been in their house, and they had most definitely ran in separate circles. They spent their time on the Quidditch pitch, in detention, or wreaking general havoc on the school. Padma was usually in the library or her room, studying.
"Are you finding everything alright?" she asked.
He set the asphodel back on the shelf and picked up some dragon hide.
"Yes, thank you."
"That's good, because I have no clue where anything is."
He chuckled.
"Perhaps I should give you the tour. I'm in here enough since Fred prefers to stay at the shop."
She smiled; relieved to know which one she was speaking to. She had never really spoken to any of the Weasleys except when she attended the Yule Ball with Ron her fourth year and he had not really spoken to her the whole night. It fact, the whole evening had been a disaster.
"Excuse me…"
She pushed the thoughts of the Yule Ball to the back her mind and focused her attention back on George.
"Yes."
"Does Mr. Swarthmore have any extra dragon eye pus?"
"I'll go check."
George watched her disappear into the back and picked up a pouch filled with unicorn horn shavings. That would be for his own personal use at Oliver's upcoming birthday party. Unicorn horn, when mixed with the appropriate spells and potions, had the wonderful ability to cause certain parts of a person to grow. Katie, Oliver's wife, had made the mistake of telling them no pranks would be welcome at the party. That was just asking for it.
Padma returned from the back holding several jars of a blackish substance. The bruise on her face had become a nasty purplish bump. George's curiosity got the better of him.
"What happened to your head?" he asked.
She sighed. "I tripped over my covers and walloped my head on the corner of my bedside table."
"Ouch," he grimaced, "Have you taken anything for it yet?"
She shook her head. "I could not for the life of me remember what spell or potions to use. Times like these, I miss Madame Pomfrey."
He reached out and gingerly touched the welt. "If you mix crushed mimbletonia root with your tea, it will take the swelling down and help with the pain."
She looked at him suspiciously.
"Really?"
"Trust me; I was a beater. I discovered that remedy pretty quick."
She still seemed a tad bit leery of trying his suggestion. He was, after all, one of the former Gryffindor prankster princes who gave Peeves a run for his money while at Hogwarts. Or perhaps it was because he had once given her twin a canary cream.
"Padma, I swear on Weasley Wizard Wheezes that it really will work without any odd side effects. Besides, Fred and I have matured. We only play pranks on close friends and family now."
She looked doubtful. The idea of Fred and George maturing seemed rather farfetched. There were better odds of Snape becoming obnoxiously drunk at the Leaky Cauldron and dancing around with nothing but a lampshade on his head. It was probably a better idea to ask her boss for suggestions as to how to relieve the throbbing pain in her head. Of course, then she risked looking incompetent to her employer. On the other hand, taking a potion that caused her to sprout antlers or some other ludicrous appendage would not look professional either.
Well, nothing ever came to those who risked nothing.
"Perhaps I'll try some over lunch."
George set the bags of ingredients on the counter in the back room of their shop where they did all their inventing. Fred was leaned over a cauldron, cautiously mixing bezoar into a steaming liquid.
"Did you get everything?"
"Yeah," he began to sort the bottles out and set them in their proper places on the shelves in cabinets. "Padma Patil works there now."
The mixture in the cauldron let out a loud bang and Fred found himself covered in a periwinkle colored goo.
"Wasn't she the one that went to the Yule Ball with Ron?"
George tossed him a washcloth and towel to clean himself.
"I think so. Do we have any spare mimbletonia root?"
"Under the sink. Why?"
George looked in the cabinet below the sink and pulled out a large ceramic jar filled with mimbletonia roots. He used a large wooden staff to crush into into a powder.
"Just going to convince someone that we aren't pure mischief."
Padma tried to ignore the dull ache that had plagued her all morning, preventing her from doing any real work. Mostly, she feigned her actions and contemplated actually taking George's advice. Then she would once again come to her senses, remembering Penelope being turned into a canary when the twins had switched the chocolates Percy was going to give to her with their own special brand.
The bell jingled merrily and she winced. Every noise seemed to increase the pain.
"I brought you something."
George held out a bottle filled with a light brown liquid. Padma eyed it warily.
"The pain is gone," she lied.
He laughed.
"It's perfectly fine. I promise."
He opened the bottle and brought the rim to his lips. Half of the liquid disappeared into his mouth. A few minutes passed and nothing happened.
"See, I'm fine."
She took the bottle from him. The idea of sprouting antlers seemed much more appealing than spending the day in agonizing pain.
The liquid tasted like a very sweet warm tea. The warm feeling spread throughout her body. The ache was gone and her body was experiencing no weird changes. George merely grinned, his mission accomplished.