Evil Cats and Bacon Clocks
A soft and rather heavy mass of warm fur plopped itself onto my face, effectively cutting off any hope of air.
"Mrrmph," I groaned, still keeping my eyes tightly shut. I reached up to swat the fur mass away, but it merely let out a disgruntled meow and dug its claws into my skin.
"Gerr off," I mumbled, turning on my side and nestling deeper into my deliciously warm covers.
"Meow."
The mass of fur merely padded over to resettle on my cheek.
Ugh.
"Okay, okay, cat," I muttered, sitting up and propping myself up with my arms. Sir Archibald tumbled to the carpet below and hissed, his tail puffing up with indignation.
"Good morning to you too," I said. I glanced at the bacon clock (it was shaped like a giant piece of bacon and had been a graduation present to myself) on the opposite wall and groaned inwardly; it was already six thirty-one.
"Argh," I mumbled to myself. Then, with a heavy sigh, I forced myself from the warm embrace of my covers and stumbled out of bed. Pouring Sir Archibald's breakfast into his royal blue bowl (for Ravenclaw, of course), I stifled a yawn, clasping a hand to my lips as I observed the cloudy blue-gray sky outside. Judging by the few orange smears splattered across the backdrop of low-hanging clouds, the sun was due to rise in around seven minutes or so.
Well, I supposed I'd stalled for long enough. Setting my jaw determinedly, I turned to face the closet of doom.
Reaching out a tentative hand, I grasped the white handle carefully and, screwing my eyes shut, opened it and jumped to the side quickly. A wave of clothes tumbled out of the small closet, pooling at my feet in a mess of blues and greens.
Great.
I grabbed the first shirt and trousers I saw and yanked them on hurriedly. As I was pulling on the shirt – a white blouse – my elbow caught against the closet door, banging painfully against the wood.
Double great.
Scowling to myself and nursing my wounded elbow, I blearily reached towards my wooden nightstand in search of my wand. The good thing about being a witch was that I didn't have to manually put away each shirt (which probably also explained the mess; I wasn't good enough at domestic spells to instruct the clothing to go back to their proper places, so I just stuffed them haphazardly behind the closet and shut the door quickly).
Nothing.
My brows furrowed; huh? I might be a bit (cue mental Seth screaming "FALSE" – shut up, Seth) messy, but since the…incidents of sixth year I always made sure to keep my wand within easy reach.
Then Numberita finally dispelled the last of the sleep-induced mental fog, leaving me with one horrifying realization.
I had no wand. Al had gotten it confiscated (mental note: whack him again with OBTS).
Triple great.
Looking down first at the pile of clothes lying forlornly on my oak floor and then at the watch I'd put on my left wrist – it was already six fifty – I sighed.
"I'll deal with you later," I promised. Then I grabbed a hair elastic from my dresser and, still running out of my room, yanked my tangled hair into a mound that sort of resembled a ponytail with only minimal wincing.
I careened into the kitchen, my sock-enclosed feet sliding on the smooth wood, and grinned at Rose. Rose smiled, holding up a blueberry muffin.
"Want one?"
"When have I ever turned down food?" I said, reaching for the offered muffin. "Thanks."
Taking a big bite of the still-warm pastry, I groaned with contentment.
"Mmm," I mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs.
Rose winced but didn't say anything, too used to my habits to even bring up the number of crumbs dropping to the table below.
Rose sighed, setting down the paper she'd been reading.
"Teddy's still missing," she said heavily.
Teddy Lupin was the drummer for the biggest band in the Wizarding World at the moment and had been missing for the past four days (which made his band name, Void, all the more ironic). His publicist had tried to cover up his absence for as long as she could, but it seemed word had gotten out to the papers.
"Still?"
She nodded, a worried look coming over her eyes.
"I'm sure he's fine. Doesn't he disappear all the time?" Teddy wasn't known to be the most sober or controlled of people. He often vanished at times only to show up a few days later in the oddest of locations.
"I guess…" she said.
"Seriously, Rose. I'm sure he'll show up any day now in some random flat."
She sighed, folding the paper up neatly.
"You're right. I just wish he didn't do this so often…it makes Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny worried sick."
Then her eyes traveled downward to spot the now completely-dirtied table top. She frowned.
I swallowed the rest of the food and cleared my throat before saying, "Don't worry, Rose. I'll clean it up with a qui-"
Oh. My wand=missing. Adela=just made a promise she wishes she could take back. I groaned, letting my head sink until my chin rested against the (dirty) tabletop.
Rose grinned and jumped up, checking the silver watch on her slender wrist.
"Great, thanks! I'm off now. Scorp's taking me up to Hogwarts and I don't want to keep him waiting," she said. Right, today was Monday. I wouldn't see her again until late Friday night. I frowned; the flat was always terribly lonely without Rose.
Rose leaned in and gave me a warm hug.
"I'll owl every day," she promised, drawing back to look me sincerely in the eye.
"Okay," I said. Then, hesitating slightly, I added, "Be safe."
She nodded. "Of course. You too." Then, with one last hug, she picked up her trunk with a levitating charm and waved one last time before attempting to Apparate.
Slam. The air shivered as the ward shoved Rose down to the ground, leaving her looking enraged and quite red on the wooden floor.
"Stupid Aurors how dare they interfere with our flat," I heard her muttering. Hey, my habits had rubbed off on her! She picked herself up, still muttering curses, and opened the door leading to the hallway.
"Keep out of trouble!" she called over her shoulder.
"When am I ever in trouble?" I answered.
Her only answer was a laugh as she closed the door behind her.
I eyed the dirtied wood for a full sixty-two seconds before sighing and getting up to retrieve the deep red trashcan underneath the granite countertop.
After cleaning my mess (and stuffing my clothes into the closet with only a few mishaps), I was finally ready to leave for work.
"Bye, Sir Archibald. Try not to eat another quill, all right?"
The (evil) cat merely meowed, bending down to placidly groom his paw. I groaned; he was definitely going to eat a quill now just to spite me.
I surveyed the empty flat one last time before facing the door. A bit of nervousness had wormed its way down my chest to settle like a drowned hippogriff in my stomach; I went everywhere with my wand, and being without it made me painfully aware of how defenseless I was. Perhaps I should have accompanied Seth to all those Muggle fighting lessons during that one-year period in which he tried to impress the half-blood daughter of a famous Muggle boxer (of course, that ended up with said Muggle boxer completely beating Seth up when the relationship ended).
Right, no more stalling. I'd be late if I didn't leave in the next two hundred and twenty-two seconds. I grasped the doorknob, feeling a slight shudder run through my body as the spell recognized me (thank Merlin. I wasn't in the mood for being fried this early in the morning), and opened the door.
A pair of startlingly green eyes met mine, and I jumped back, a garbled cry stuck in my throat. He jerked forward, catching me before I could fall.
"Merlin, Al. For promising not to do the creepy stalker thing, you certainly do have a habit of showing up at odd times and places," I finally managed to gasp out after my racing heart had finally slowed down enough for coherent thought.
He rolled his eyes, releasing his hold on my waist. I stumbled a bit at the sudden absence but soon caught myself on the doorframe.
He rolled his eyes again.
"You know, that's a very bad habit to have," I pointed out. He laughed.
"Almost as bad a habit as saying 'stupid' every five seconds?" he returned. I scowled up at him before pointedly turning away from his stup-arrogant face. I shut the door carefully behind me. Rose's words from last night crept through Numberita, and I stiffened slightly; what was I doing? No conversing with Al other than what was necessary. He wasn't here because he wanted to be here – he'd made that abundantly clear several times now. He was just here to fulfill his orders and prove that he was loyal so he could rise up in ranks.
"Right, let's get this over with," I said wearily, turning back to face him. He eyed me quizzically before nodding.
"Before I forget," he began, reaching into the pocket of his trousers and handing me a wand, "Here. I stopped by the old evidence department to pick this up."
I couldn't hide my smile as I quickly took the wand from his hand. There was no sense of contentment, of belonging from this wand…but it certainly wasn't hostile. And it was nice to be able to defend myself again.
Then Numberita registered his words.
"The…evidence department. You mean this is some crazed robber's wand," I said flatly. He shrugged.
"Serial killer, actually. He had a fascination with girls who said 'stupid' too often," he said lightly.
I scowled, reaching over to smack his arm with OBTS.
"Not funny, Al," I said. Greyback fit that definition pretty nicely. I shivered involuntarily, my eyes growing distant as I remembered the way his raspy voice had cut so deeply into Numberita, rendering her – my most prized characteristic – useless.
He sobered. "You're right. I'm sorry," he said sincerely. I snapped out of my memory, staring at him in disbelief.
Faint red petals started blooming across his high cheeks in a rare blush, and he cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing.
"For everything. It wasn't your fault that Vane got hurt. It was mine. So…I'm sorry," he repeated, looking away from my searching gaze. My heart softened a bit; he clearly felt extremely guilty about his partner's injury.
I lifted a tentative hand, hesitated for a second, then sighed (and muttered a silent apology to Rose) and rested it gently on his arm.
"It's not your fault either," I said softly. He looked at my hand where it rested on his arm before meeting my eyes.
"Isn't it?" he said bitterly.
And I was frozen once again, this time not for fear but something…close to fear but not quite. Trepidation? Nerves again? There was a narrow pink scar about five centimeters long curled against the right side of his nose and the faint traces of a fading bruise kissing his left temple, and Numberita briefly wondered how he'd gotten those wounds. It must have been during his fieldwork. What horrors had he witnessed while working as an Auror? Even the thought left me feeling empty and…
A door opened farther down in the hallway. I blinked, blushing furiously as I realized just how close – thirteen centimeters – we'd gotten. Al cleared his throat again and moved backwards, leaving my arm hanging in mid air. I set it down by my side, determinedly looking away from Al.
"Oh! Adela!" came a high, sweet voice.
I looked up, meeting Clara's dark eyes with a weak smile. She was impeccably dressed as always, and her raven hair was pulled up in an elegant bun.
"Hi, Clara." I was painfully aware of Al's silent presence two meters to my right.
"Are you okay? No avocado monsters, right?" she asked, her red lips curling up in a smile.
I laughed, a high, awkward sound that made Al glance sharply at me. Oh Merlin please do not mention the avocado monster, I silently pleaded. There was no reason to give Al yet another area in which he could tease me.
"Nope, hahaha. Um. Well, I'd better get to work, Black's going to kill me…"
She brightened. "Oh, of course! Black's the scary one you're always complaining about, right? I'm on my way for an audition myself…fingers crossed, right? Anyway, it was nice talking to you – and Mr. Silent over there." She added the last comment in a loud stage whisper and winked.
"Glad to see you're finally getting over—"
"WELL NICE SEEING YOU GOOD LUCK ON YOUR AUDITION YOU WILL DO GREAT YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL AND OKAY WELL BYE," I bellowed, yanking Al by the sleeve and moving to flee this hallway before she could mention Al's name.
When we finally stopped outside of the red brick building, I was gasping for breath and Al was (of course) still silent. When I finally recovered enough to resume a semi-straight posture, he raised a dark eyebrow.
"'You are beautiful?'" he said.
I froze; what? Why was he saying tha-
"That wasn't the smoothest of moves. Does Rose know you're lusting after the girl next do-" he continued. Oh. I felt a strange sense of disappointment that he hadn't been calling me beautiful before shaking it off with an angry snort. I didn't need Al to tell me I was beautiful. I had Sir Archibald to do that. Sure, he marked his affection with painful scratches, but I knew he was saying, "I love you" in cat language.
Then Numberita registered his words (note to self: find out why Numberita was so delayed lately). Cue the Adela tomato and excessive spluttering.
"Wha-what? No, no, I – I'm not, um, I mean, Clara's super pretty but anyone can see that-"
He rolled his eyes.
"Relax, Lancaster."
I quieted, replacing my blush with a furious glare. Did he always have to roll his eyes in that condescending way?
"Besides, it's not like it's a big deal. She seems nice and, hey, she puts up with your…antics," he continued casually.
Right. So Al obviously harbored no lingering feelings for me if he was so willing to pair me off with someone else. I let out a long breath that I hadn't realized I was holding. Fine. And with that exhale I let go of the last piece of Al – the piece that had come with warm smiles and quills and bantering over Quidditch – that I'd still clung on to all these years.
"Aren't you going to be late?" he asked.
Shoot.
Well, time to try out this questionable wand. I gingerly held it out and pictured the lobby of the GW firm. Soaring ceilings, gold accents, marble floors that made satisfying clicking sounds when I wore hard-soled shoes…
And with that, I Apparated away.
xxxxxxxxxx
"Adela!" The voice cut easily through the throngs of loudly arguing lawyers milling about the building.
Dominique.
"Hi, Dominique, I was just about to find y-"
She stormed up to me, her blue eyes narrowed dangerously. Uh oh. Right, time to make my escape – my eyes darted around, searching for some cover. All the other wizards (traitors) had seen Dominique's rampage and quietly disappeared, leaving me alone with one disgruntled Weasley.
This was not a good day.
"Bull," she cut me off with an angry snap.
I resisted the urge to flinch away from the enraged blonde.
"You drop the whole 'my cousin is babysitting you because some psycho werewolf's on the loose' bomb and then think you can disappear without a word? Do you have any idea how worried I was?"
Now I did flinch, guilt worming its way through Numberita. I should have realized that she would worry.
"Dominique, I- I'm sorry," I said tentatively.
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with slender fingers.
"Whatever," she said shortly.
I stepped forward impulsively and drew her in a quick hug (hm, maybe Rose was rubbing off on me as well – that was a decidedly Rose move to do). She stiffened for a second before relaxing. After four seconds she pulled away.
"I-good to see you alive," she said roughly.
"I really am sorry," I said. "I should have sent word."
"Yeah, you should have…but hey, you're imperfect. What else can I expect?"
And just like that we were back to normal. I grinned at her before sticking out my tongue.
"Well, now that that sickening display of affection is over…" came a dry voice from my left.
Dominique glanced at him, her eyes widening before she looked back at me. I shrugged.
"Hello, cousin," he continued.
"Bastard," she answered. I cringed inwardly; as we'd gotten closer, Dominique had sided with me completely and now refused to be pleasant whenever Al was around. The rest of the Wotters merely believed we'd had a bad breakup (which was true), but Dominique had weaseled (ha. Get it? Weaseled – oh, never mind) the full story out of me on a particularly bad evening. To my surprise, she'd blamed Al and not me for the whole debacle despite my protests that I'd been the one to start the whole thing with my own stupidity.
The clock above rang seven-thirty. Shoot, I was officially late. Leaving the two Wotters in the lobby and praying that I wouldn't return to find the lobby exploded, I ran up the stairs two at a time. Careening past disgruntled associates, I slammed through Cain's door and into his office.
"You're late," he said simply, setting down a manila folder of documents.
"I-I know. Sorry," I said, setting myself down in the (smaller) leather chair facing his desk. He blinked, an expression of complete surprise overtaking his face.
"What, no excuses? No hippogriffs? Nothing?" he asked. I scowled.
"Sod off."
"Ah, there's the pain in the ass I know." Then he sobered. "The Daisy case. How's it going?"
"I'm going to go out today and search for old Ben," I answered. He frowned.
"I'm sure I'll find him. I'm going to check with the Zabinis to see if they'll say anything and if that doesn't work out I have a contact in the medical world that will be able to check hospital records for old Ben," I hurriedly continued.
He sighed.
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you again how important this case is, Adela. Not just for Daisy's sake but for houselves as a whole. If we win this…it will set a precedent for freeing elves based on excessive abuse. The pureblood society will be forced to change," he said fervently. I looked down at my hands ashamedly; he was right. This was a huge case, one that had the potential to rock the Wizarding World at its core if it went through. I should have made it my top priority.
"I understand," I said quietly. He sighed again before walking forward. He patted my head awkwardly, a move that was more painful than comforting.
"Erm…don't feel bad, kid. Just go out there and do your best?" the questioning lift at the end of his words detracted from the (cheesy) encouragement, but nevertheless I felt a bit better. Black, though a bit prickly around the edges, was a good guy.
"Thanks, Cain," I said sincerely, looking up at him. He smiled, ruffling my hair a bit.
Then a cold voice spoke from behind us.
"Well, this is cozy."
Author note: and so the drama reappears (like it was ever gone) :O Thank you to everyone who read - and all the people who reviewed the last chapter! It made me so happy to see familiar (and new!) faces :) Please review and let me know what you think! c;
