November was close to ending; it was unseasonably calm. Other than Adrian and Corey's almost daily arguments broke the monotony of my life. Kathryn was displaying all of her cards to get me to score her a date with Oliver; she even dangled a promotion although I had been working for less than three months.
"The Annual Yule Ball is in a few weeks," she said one day while I helped her organize the photographs for that month's issue. It was a tedious job. We didn't get to choose anything. All I had to do was put the photos into albums and categorize them. Kathryn would then take them to the fashion director, Athena Furmage and her team, and they would decide. "Are you certain he has a date for it?"
I sighed and avoided her gaze. Apparently, the Annual Quidditch League Yule Ball was an even bigger deal than the Halloween Bash, which I had learned was mostly an excuse to get drunk. The Yule Ball, by comparison, was a charitable event where not only Quidditch Teams were invited. Some of the most important figures in Wizarding society attended as well. It was strictly by invitation only and all proceedings went to the Quidditch for Children foundation, a charity which helped young witches and wizards learn to play Quidditch. "I told you, he is going with someone."
Kathryn rolled her eyes and threw a skewed picture into a garbage bin, which ate it. "That ugly healer?" Oliver and Amy had been caught in Diagon Alley shopping a few days ago; when the press (mostly Witch Weekly) had cornered him, Oliver let it slipped that they would be going together to the Ball. Kathryn had almost torn the article to pieces. "What does he see in her?"
I shrugged and continued working, knowing that Kathryn did not need any help in talking. "She's older than him, isn't she? I think a year younger than me… well, at least once they break up, for they will, they have no business being together, he could look my way if he likes older women. Do you know how serious they are?" I replied that I didn't and left the office in search of spellotape. When I came back, she was still talking to herself.
"Are you invited to the Ball?"
She caught me off guard and I punctured my finger with a pair of scissors. "No," I replied with my finger in my mouth. The lead taste of blood made me shudder. "I didn't get an invitation."
Kathryn arched an eyebrow. "Luke Bradley didn't work out?" I shook my head. She hit me in the arm with a ruler. "Stupid girl. How can you let a bloke like that slip through your fingers? You don't want to end up almost-thirty and single Eliza!"
oOo
I was fumbling trying to find my keys which were stuck amongst some of the debris that had accumulated in my handbag when I heard the barking. I took a second to allow my eyes to roll and continued my futile search. Thankfully, the door opened with a "Back Daisy, shoo," and Corey's blond mop appeared.
"Dog's back I see," I said for way of conversation after Corey noticed he had almost bumped into me. He was carrying a large fabric tote-bag and looked worse for the wear. "Going shopping?"
He passed a hand through his hair, messing it up. His complexion, usually clearer and better cared for than mine, was full of red blots and dried sweat beads. That was unusual. If we had to draw a ranking of vainest person in the flat, it was a tough call between Corey and me, with Adrian a close second. "Yes, well, Christmas is coming up and with the game against Pride of Portee on Saturday I won't have time to buy all the presents."
I nodded with a smile pretending I shared his preoccupation. I clapped him on the shoulder and opened the door. "Don't stress yourself, it's just Christmas," I had one foot inside of the flat, my mind already focused on a warm cup of tea and a new novel I was reading when Corey decided this was a good time to have a heart to heart.
"My parents never got over me being magic, you see?" he leaned against the wall; pieces of old flowery wallpaper fell off on his hair like snowflakes. I sighed, put my foot back out on the corridor and closed the door. Daisy's saliva had come too close to my shoes for comfort. "Mum's big on church, the first time I turned me little sister's dog into a frog she went nutty. Sent me to an religious all boy's school for the next two years."
"What did she do when someone from Hogwarts arrived?"
"Tried to stab them with a stake."
"She does know those are vampires, not wizards right?"
He shrugged. "The second time they came, she tried feeding them garlic, so I don't think so." I chuckled. "She also never forgave me fer running off last year; didn't understand that being muggle born was no longer an option for me."
I looked at Corey in the eye for a moment, sharing an unspoken understanding of the pains of exile. He gave me a wry smile. "No point complaining about it, is there? Besides, it'd be the one night I have to see her…"
I placed my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "You can always turn her into a frog." Corey's laugh echoed in the hallway, and even I cracked a small smile. He thanked and walked away with a more confident step. Feeling odd for doing something nice, I entered the apartment with renewed vigor and interest in a cup of tea.
Daisy was waiting by the open door; I had to push her away with my knee to be able to squeeze inside without her running out. It didn't look like there was anyone else in the flat, so I went to my room to put some comfier clothes and proceed with my evening's plan – even if these included a big old dog now.
That Friday, a letter from Willow arrived with the morning's post.
I need to get out of the house. We'll go shopping and for supper after work. Be done by 5 and meet me at the Leaky Cauldron.
Willow
Always so charming. With Christmas only three weeks away, and the last match of the season before it resumes in January happening tomorrow (Puddlemere United against Pride of Portee), I knew the flat would be inhabitable. I had discovered that my three flatmates had increasing bad the closer it got to a match. They were ranking second, just a few hundred points short of the Tornados, and their bad humors were making me want to spend as much time away as possible. What with Adrian and Corey having an old-married-couple's row every three minutes over minutia and Oliver hiding in his room with only his dog for company, it wasn't the most hospitable place to be. Especially since the dog was having ever increasing serious stomach problems. Something about too much gas. Oliver had taken her to Magical Menagerie thrice- he even took her to a muggle dog-doctor for a 'second opinion'
So it was with great pleasure that I left the office at five o'clock that evening to meet with Willow, who was already waiting for me at the leaky Cauldron. "You are late."
I looked at my wristwatch. "It's 5:03."
"I said be ready by 5, Elizabeth." I rolled my eyes.
"Are you pregnant again?" Willow huffed and pulled her cozy white scarf tighter around her neck. She turned her back on me and began walking out of the pub and towards Diagon Alley. Thinking that I may as well have stayed home to receive this treatment, I followed her. We walked down the different shops in silence until we reached Gringotts.
"Any idea of what you are going to get? I was thinking of getting Gwen some hand lotions; being a healer is no good for her skin…"
"Why didn't you stop when we were in front of Madam Primpernelle's? Now we have to walk all the way back to the beginning!" resisting the urge to gauge her eyes out with a fork and force them down her throat, I clenched my jaw and smile.
"What do you want to do then?"
Willow's brown eyes narrowed dangerously; I had the impression she was looking at me like her misbehaving daughter. "Why aren't you engaged to Oliver Wood yet?"
Well that took me by surprise. Several witches heard her; they stopped walking and stared. I yanked her arm before she could start demanding grandchildren and pushed her into Rosa Lee Teabag. A small bell chimed above my head when I pushed the white door open. The normally reassuring smell of Earl Grey and scones slapped my nose, but today it wasn't what I wanted to smell. All I really wanted was a pastry I could stuff down Willow's throat to suffocate her.
"Two teas and two chocolate croissants," I yelled at the brunette girl standing by the counter, and dragged Willow through the length of the small shop towards an empty corner table. I pushed her into the chair and sat down in front of her. She glared at me, her hands crossed against her chest, but kept quiet. I disentangled my scarf from my neck, removed some stray snowflakes from my hair, and placed my jacket on the back of the chair. We waited for our order in complete silence.
"What in Salazar's name has your knickers in a twist?" I demanded, breaking the top off of my croissant and crashing it with my teeth. Willow had not moved an inch; her eyes were narrowed to a perfect personification of an eagle. "You either speak or I leave."
She crooked an eyebrow. "Is that a threat?" I held her gaze with my own, refusing to back up. Adrian said I was a stubborn cow; but I was nothing compared to the witch in front of me. After a few tense seconds, she relaxed her shoulder downs and uncrossed her arms. "I am late."
"That explains everything," I muttered, ripping another piece of croissant. She kicked my shin. "You need to explain this better. I thought you wanted a large family…?"
Willow rolled her eyes and for a second I thought I saw unshed tears on the corner of her eyes. She held her cup between both hands and gazed at it. "I was eighteen when I said that. I didn't know how hard it would be."
"To get pregnant?"
"No, you idiot – to have kids, and a bleeding husband who always leaves the seat up and can't clean after himself. Some days, I think I have two five-year olds living with me," I took a sip of my drink to cover my lack of actual things to say. Willow rolled her eyes, "I don't need advice, Elizabeth. You are worse at it than you were at herbology. I just need you to listen to me bitch and then nod at the appropriate times, do you think you can do that?"
I nodded. "Good, now where were we?"
Willow kept me until close to eleven. In fact, the owners of the place had to kick us out by magic because she refused to go. I had scampered away as fast as I could. Blimey, that woman knows how to complain…
When I got home, Daisy was resting on the sofa while Oliver petted her. "Everything alright?" I asked putting my key sin the ceramic bowl Corey had bought for this purpose. Oliver looked up.
"I took her to the vet today, they said her stomach's acting up. Adrian brewed her a de-gasing potion, but she's just sleeping now.:
I sat down on the coffee table next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Daisy no longer looked like the terrible beast that had mauled several of my favorite shirts over the years. Her fur had lost its natural shine and her energy levels had decreased dramatically; she now slept almost as much as a cat. But there was no telling Oliver that, he was as blind about his dog as he was about Quidditch. "Well, maybe she just needs the rest and in the morning she'll feel better."
"I hope so." Me too.
oOo
The evening of the Yule Ball came by faster than I thought. I was flipping through channels in the telly while Gwen finished getting ready. Adrian had already left. Wanker got another hot and random date; he had been complaining about her since Wednesday.
"Why, if you cannot stand her, are you going with her?" Oliver had snapped after a particularly long discourse on why this woman was insufferable.
Tempers were flying high despite the fact that Puddlemere had defeated Pride of Portee and had ended the season in second place; they had also qualified for the 1999's European Quidditch Cup, which would be played in August. Since the season was over for the holidays, all three of them had been spending more time than usual at home; Corey still dreading seeing his family on Christmas Eve, Adrian was still on his period, and Oliver was fussing over his dog. Nowadays, she slept the entire day on Oliver's bed and we had to coax her to get her to eat or take her for a walk. No one wanted to be the first to say it, but at 18, Daisy had lived an exceptionally long doggy life. I guessed we were all dreading another complication for Oliver's sake.
"Because I can't go stag on the most publicized event of the year!" Adrian said baring his teeth and clutching his fork until his knuckles went white. He banged both hands on the table, making the dishes jump an inch or two.
I grabbed their plates from beneath their noses before they were broken. Thank Merlin Corey was out with Gwen that night, or he would have had a right fit. "We could have gone together, you big twit," I muttered throwing the dishes into the sink and leaving them there. Adrian stared at me dumbfounded; he was still holding onto his eating utensils, but I was no longer concerned they would become a muggle murder weapon.
"Why didn't I think of that?" I rolled my eyes at the memory and changed the channel. For some odd reason, there was never anything good on the telly on Saturday night unless I cared for muggle news. Frustrated, I turned the damn box off and grabbed the latest issue of Witch Weekly which had arrived that morning. I skipped the fashion section and focused on the newer additions. Rumors were abounding that Miranda Winterstorm had convinced the partners to create a section that focused on current events, philosophy, you know, all sorts of things which do not normally belong in a "women's magazine." I snorted and threw it over the sofa.
"Sarah?" still grumpy, I looked over my shoulder towards the corridor. Oliver was arranging a stupid tie around his neck, and I had to admit he looked dashing in dark green robes. "Could you do me a big favor?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Depends," if it involves hitting your date's face with a baseball bat, then yes. Amy had been a smug cow when I last saw her, during Puddlemere's last match. She had kept sending these little smiles my way, and then looking around when I caught her staring. The way she walked with her head held high and her shoulder down to congratulate them on the win was nauseating.
"Could you look after Daisy?" I groaned and buried my head against a pillow, hoping that if I ignored him he'll go away. Except in the early mornings when he went to train (on his own), Oliver had spent the last fourteen days attached to the dog as if by a binding spell. "Please?"
I opened an eye to stare at his nose. He was much closer than I had anticipated, and I could see all the little specks on his face. I wanted to touch his eyelashes. "I won't spend the evening in your room."
He smiled and backed up. "I'll bring her here, don't worry," I watched him grab his wand from a pocket and aim it at the empty sofa. With a flick of his wand, the sofa was gone and replaced with a small human bed. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. That bloke would be a horrible father; imagine how spoiled the little brats would be? I blushed at the thought and went to the kitchen to try to find something to eat. I could hear him walking back to his room.
There was not much edible in the fridge. It had been bitterly cold for the past couple of days, and no one except of me really ventured out of the flat. Besides, the three of them much preferred ordering muggle food. Deciding on some eggs, I grabbed them and began cooking them the muggle way. Try as I might, I had to admit their oven idea is far more convenient than trying to make the perfect omelet with magic. Whenever I did that, it just tasted like wet parchment.
"Here you go, Daisy, you'll be comfortable and warm," Oliver cooed as he deposited the dog on the makeshift bed. He had carried her from his room like a new bride. I watched him gently caress her ears and head. I almost burned the eggs staring.
"Bugger."
Oliver chuckled and placed a kiss on Daisy's forehead. Her eyelids fluttered open, before she closed them again. It was rather sad to look at her so immobile. I still remembered the days when she liked to knock me down and lick my nose clean of buggers. I grabbed my eggs, filled a glass of water from the tap, and sat crossed legged on the sofa. Oliver was finishing arranging his robes. "You know how to cast a patronous?"
I shot him an angry look. "Yes."
"Do you know how to send them as messengers?"
The hand holding the fork wavered. You could do that? "No."
Oliver sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'll have to teach you then," he looked down at his wristwatch and grimaced. "But I'm late to pick Amy up. Promise you'll look after her?"
I rolled my eyes and put the food in my mouth, almost burning my tongue. "We'll survive the night, Oliver. She's harder to wake up than you are," he chuckled, bid me goodbye (kissed the dog again) and walked out. A few minutes later, Gwen came out of my room wearing one of my old dresses, she banged on Corey's room to hurry up (sometimes, he took longer to get dressed than Gwen and I combined) and soon they were gone.
"Well Daisy, seeing as there is nothing worthwhile on the telly, why don't we watch a movie?" I asked, but al she did was snore. Feeling I'd have better luck talking to a painting, I stood up to search through Corey's movie collection. "I'm feeling like something-" I stopped talking when I saw the Titanic case. I smiled to myself and put it aside. I settled for a movie that looked like it was filmed in the Middle Ages and sat back down. Daisy was snoring in her sleep, making small growling noises from time to time which disrupted my viewing.
When that movie ended, and it was past midnight, I grabbed another one and random to continue watching. A part of me wanted to make sure Oliver didn't bring Amy back to the flat; another part of me was still wide awake. I was in the process of changing cassettes when I realised something: the flat was eerily quiet. My palms were numb. The cassette fell to the floor in my hurry to check on the dog. My knee bumped against the corner of the coffee table and I fell down.
Frantically, I searched Daisy's figure with wide open arms. "No, no, no, no," I cried out, pushing myself back to my feet and ignoring the burn in my leg. Where do you check a dog's pulse? My hands flew to her nose; it was warm. Small puffs of warm air were coming out from it. My heart skipped a beat and I relaxed. Then I noticed her eyelids, so human like in her sleep, where narrowed down in an unmistakable expression of pain. Her mouth was an inch open, her tongue laboriously keeping her temperature down. I placed my hands on her chest only to feel it rising and lowering with difficulty. My eyes darted back to her face, and my lungs felt squeezed. "No, no, no, no."
I looked around the flat for something that could help. Her chest movements were becoming more erratic, and the small puffs of air coming from her nose were taking longer. "You can't do this, Daisy, you are a strong dog!" did Oliver buy a book on how to magically cure animals? Where the bleeding hell did he put it? "Just hang on, I need to think," but between my racing heart and her incessant sharp breathing I couldn't even remember my own name. Her legs twitched, and a heart wrenching growl escaped her. I couldn't hear her breathing anymore.
"Shit, shit, shit," I scrambled back up to my feet, wrapped my arms around her convulsing form and disapparated.