A/N please remember to leave your kind reviews!
The Love Chamber
3:00 PM
Perhaps it was the wide grin plastered over her usually stern visage or the slight spring in her step that was to blame for the inordinate amount of stares she was receiving, but Perpetua didn't care.
She flitted through the Love Chamber as though she were gliding upon a cloud, the vial of Lupin's blood tucked safely within the confines of her iron coloured robes.
The Unspeakable bounded up the steps with incredible speed, making it to the topmost row without as much as a hitch in her breath as she rounded on the endless wall of cabinets, each set to a specific temperature in order to maintain the integrity of the potion stored within.
Perpetua's marengo eyes scanned the alphabetical drawers until she found it.
Casiacognita; colloquially known as "The Bard."
The witch who had invented the hallucinogen did so while reading A Midsummer Night's Dream and while harbouring intense feelings of passion for Lysander, found herself in the midst of Bill Shakespeare's comedy. While her colleagues thought she'd gone mad, reciting Old English love ballads in the middle of the laboratory, she came out of the trance a few hours later to document her fascinating new discovery.
A few more months of study and experiments found that only consuming Casiacognita brought on hallucinations whereas a whiff of The Bard evoked lucid dreams.
While intensifying pre-existing attraction, there was only one way to direct the subject of desire…
She patted the sample of Remus' blood almost affectionately before opening the cabinet.
A cool gust of air blew in her face as she reached into the sub zero temperatures and plucked out a single phial of pale lavender potion.
Her steady hand reached into her robes and withdrew the long, spindly looking tube that kept a single drop of crimson blood.
Carefully, she administered it into the beaker which she held.
The thin liquid bubbled slightly as it reacted with the Werewolf's essence, turning a single shade pinker, as she now had exactly 24 hours to use the concoction before the aconite became lethal.
Putting a stopper in the crystal vial, Perpetua returned the spider pinch and it's new companion to her breast pocket before turning around and nearly sprinting down the stairs.
The witch had to make sure she was at Tinsley's before 4:00 if this batch of The Bard was to be put to good use.
The Unspeakable knew Remus had a blatant attraction to the girl, she had seen it in his mind. But Neoma - unsure of the quiet, heavily scarred shelf stocker- needed a push in the right direction since slipping the girl pure Amortentia was out of the question.
She would more than likely have to Imperius Lupin just to administer it, and then obliviate him right away. But artificial love wasn't what she wanted to study. She needed the real deal, she needed to plant the seed of attraction in Neoma's mind and let the girl run with it all on her own.
And a few sensual dreams about her newest colleague was sure to do just that.
Already flying down the black tiles outside the love chamber, Perpetua canceled her bubble head charm and checked her wrist watch.
3:18
The witch zoomed straight for the elevators, nearly diving into the nearest set of open doors when a pale violet interoffice memo began dancing around her head, silently demanding to be read.
Hodgkins snatched the paper out of the air with a little more force than necessary and hastily opened it up to read.
Orpington's Law, Section 83, Subsection 4, Paragraph b).
No Unspeakable, either currently or formerly employed, may collect personal information (see header), personal items or bodily fluids from or about any individual, living or deceased, unless submitting the proper forms and thoroughly stating their intent. Permission from the Minister is expressly required before the collection may proceed.
Any of the aforementioned articles/imformation obtained without the proper permits and Minister approval is deemed highly illegal. Any Unspeakable caught operating outside of these Laws is subject to termination and or imprisonment.
All of your "collections" on my desk before the end of the week, unless you want to start picking out your prison cell.
Dearest Mitzy
Perpetua nearly burst into laughter at Miriam's pathetic attempt at blackmail, actually going so far as to take a look around her in hopes of finding someone else to share it with. The woman ended up stuffing it into her pocket for later - perhaps she would post it inside the door of the love chamber for her colleagues to get a good chuckle out of.
The entire Department of Mysteries would be locked up in Azkaban at this point if anyone actually bothered enforcing those Laws.
No one in their right mind was going to wait weeks, sometimes even months, for the Minister's stamp of approval - not when most of their experiments were so time sensitive.
The Unspeakables operated independently from the Ministry, and as such, quite a few former leaders had taken issue with the department's autonomy - Radolphus Lestrange going so far as to shut them down in 1837 until it blew up in his face. He was simply ignored by the Unspeakables who all turned up for work the next morning as though nothing had happened, turning the reactionary Minister into a laughingstock. But Evangeline Orpington, ever the visionary, devised a Law to be passed in hope's of checking some of the department's powers.
As a show of good will, the Unspeakables had agreed to her proposal - which now (over 130 years later) they held in the same regards as toilet paper.
It did come in handy for a good laugh now again, just as Miriam's memo had proven.
Which brought the old woman back to her initial train of thought.
What was she to do about Winston's nosy little secretary?
If Ermine didn't have his balls in such a twist for her, she might've been able to convince him to fire the meddling little witch herself. But, judging by his near erection every time he spoke to Miriam, it wasn't going to be so easy to get rid of Matthews.
Perpetua continued on her way, catching the next lift to the atrium as she crammed into the tiny compartment next to a man with flaming red hair.
The old Unspeakable was nearly tempted to let Miriam off the hook, just to see what would come of her surprising attraction to Lyall's son.
She wondered idly if these girls were simply drawn to his raw, primal energy or if they genuinely thought of him as handsome. Either way, she would wait to see what happened between Remus and Neoma first before throwing another fish into the tank.
"Bit nippy out, is it?"
The man's voice sucked Hodgkins out of her own thoughts as she turned to find him eyeing her thick woolen robes.
She set her chilling grey eyes upon the ginger and watched him shrink under her piercing gaze; something about him seemed vaguely familiar.
"My work space is quite chilly," she explained, drawing her cloak around herself even tighter as though to prove a point. But it didn't help - she was always cold.
Hodgkins noticed the red-head's features relax in slight relief as she responded to him.
"Ah yes - Department of Mysteries," he said with a slight trace of whimsy in his voice. "I was just meeting an old friend up there, Broderick Bode - D'you know him?"
The woman smirked. "One of Saul's little disciples."
The man nodded, unsure of whether to take her condescending tone as a joke or an insult.
"Arthur Weasley," the wizard announced.
Perpetua actually smiled - the name jogging her memory now. One of her colleague's had taken Arthur up as an experiment, sabotaging every form of contraceptive he and his wife had tried in order to see how many offspring their relationship could handle.
Turns out it took seven little shits running around before his wife had enough sense to get her tubes tied.
Arthur mistook the smile as a display of acceptance and extended his arm in greeting, the witch balking internally at the feel of human skin against her own as she clasped his hand briefly.
"Perpetua Hodgkins," she introduced just as the bell to the lift when off and the doors slid open to reveal the 8th floor.
She left without another backwards glance and disappeared towards the nearest Apparation point.
Tinsley's Tally
Neoma stood back from the flour caked counter and tossed her head from side to side, trying to get rid of the kink in her neck which had only become worse after a morning of kneading dough.
It had been a long, tiring day and she was more than ready to go home.
She glanced wistfully at the clock which hung over her double oven and sighed.
3:50
Ten minutes until the end of her shift.
Deciding to begin cleaning up, the girl walked over to the linen drawer for a towel when she caught sight of an impeccably dressed old woman perusing the cakes.
Ughh, Fuck off.
"Can I help you find anything?" She offered with a sigh, hoping that she could bag and tag the lady's dessert as quickly as possible.
"Yes, well it's my son's birthday tomorrow and I was hoping to find him a good chocolate pudding," she replied, pulling an iron coloured shawl over her shouders as though she were freezing. Neoma peered out the front window, half expecting to see grey rain clouds and gusting wind, but found naught except clear blue skies and ample sunshine.
"I've got triple chocolate cheesecake and chocolate almond torte," she listed, trying not to let the hint of impatience in her tone become too obvious.
To the girl's utter bewilderment, the woman began to sob, covering her mouth with the thick wool cloth before taking a swipe at her steely eyes which seemed perfectly dry.
"I-I'm sorry, it's just that almond torte was my dear husband's favourite dessert," she explained, dabbing the tip of her razor sharp nose with the end of her shawl. "He passed on just a few months ago."
Neoma cringed internally, instantly feeling like an arse for trying to be short of her, and walked right up the woman.
She had black, iron streaked hair which was pulled back so tight, that her thin, papery skin looked ready to tear if she moved her eyebrows too suddenly. Her nearly invisible lips were set into what seemed like a permanent scowl and her flat, planar cheeks were devoid of colour; as were her grey eyes.
Neoma nearly shivered just looking at the woman, but instead offered a few quiet words of condolence, wondering if a sympathetic pat on the shoulder was going too far.
"Oh, it's fine. I just get taken off guard sometimes," the lady huffed, suddenly drawing herself upright as though the previous show of emotion had embarrassed her.
Neoma nodded, trying to steal an inconspicuous glance at the clock again.
"Anyhow, back to the matter at hand - my son's cake. I want it to be something memorable. He's turning twenty-six, you know!" She beamed.
"Just as young as I am," Neoma added with a smile, hoping to atone for her previous haste by way of making polite conversation.
"Is that so?" The woman asked, raising a thin brow as she gave the pastry chef a quick once over. "You wouldn't happen to be interested in a date with my boy, would you?"
"Uhh…"
The girl blinked in surprise, not quite sure how to react to the proposal.
"Oh, what am I saying?" The grey garbed lady tutted with a wave of her bony hand. "You've probably already got a boyfriend wrapped around your little finger."
Neoma's bitter scoff caught even herself off guard, but she managed not to dwell too long on the abusive scumbag who had flushed three long years of her life down the toilet.
"I don't believe a beautiful young woman like you can still be single!" She exclaimed, clutching her chest in mock outrage.
The girl smiled at the compliment, wanting to warm up to the kind old lady, but there was just something harrowing about her lifeless eyes which stopped Neoma from doing so.
"Now that reminds me, I came in here the other day and ran into the most handsome young man!"
The employee screwed her face up in blatant disbelief at the woman's words, every guy working at Tinsley's was either a minging arse wipe or old enough to be her father.
"He was rather tall with sandy hair and had the most breathtaking, mossy green eyes.."
Neoma's face erupted into a huge grin as she remembered her newest coworker.
"That's Remus," she divulged, unable to keep the smile from her features as she made a mental note to tell him later of his secret admirer.
The lady's eyes lit up as she calculated the girl's reaction. "Are you two…?"
"Oh no," Neoma replied hastily, feeling the slight blush which had crept into her cheeks at the odd woman's insinuating stare. "I've only just met him once - he's new."
"Yes, well. Exceptionally beautiful lad."
"The scars definitely help," the girl agreed enthusiastically. While not handsome in a traditional sense, there was just something about Lupin that caught your attention. Whether it was his tall, firm build or his guarded green eyes which - despite their kindness and warmth - held a captivating fire deep within their olive colored depths that hinted at the likes of a troublemaker in disguise. Maybe it was the scars that added to his unorthodox appeal, or the fact he smelled like vanilla and freshly brewed tea. Or perhaps it was his refusal to let his gaze linger on her chest, unlike every other man she'd met since the age of 12. Whatever It was, his exceptionally firm backside was also an added bonus.
"Did I tell you I bought my son the most extravagant cologne on the way here - cost me 200 quid!" She declared, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out a beautiful crystal phial with mesmerizing lavender liquid swirling inside.
"That was 200 quid?" The girl blanched at the price tag of such a small bottle.
"Selfridges," the woman explained, naming the overpriced department store near Buckingham palace with a shake of her head. "Want to smell?"
A part of Neoma warned her against sniffing unknown liquids offered by strange people, but the other part which felt sorry for the talkative old customer made her stick her nose out over the glass counter with an approving smile.
Perhaps the strange glint in the woman's eyes as the phial moved closer should have served as a red flag, but it was too late.
The Baker took one good whiff, expecting musky notes of cherry and sandalwood, only to find herself gagging and hacking on putrid fumes that burned the hairs on the inside of her nose.
The entire world spinning around her, Neoma dropped down from the counter, clutching onto her workspace like a lifeline. Through the haze, she glanced back at the old woman, sure that an evil smile was plastered on her leathery face.
But as her surroundings eventually stilled and the stark stench gave way to clean air, she looked back to find the lady with nothing except worry painted on her features.
"Oh dear, has it spoiled?"
The girl threw a dark look at the customer while fighting an incredible urge to beat her over the head with a rolling pin.
"Why don't you take a whiff and find out?" Neoma spat, still spluttering as she wiped her nose, half expecting to see blood when she pulled her hand away.
Her eyes were still teary and stinging, but she could have sworn the old woman's mouth had curled up in a sneer.
"I'll take the cheesecake," the lady decided abruptly, as if the past ten minutes of conversation had never occurred.
The pastry chef, now rather light headed, quickly packaged the dense dessert and handed it off with a slight scowl to the woman who had an oddly satisfied expression upon her bird-like face as she turned and walked away without another word.
"You're welcome," Neoma muttered sarcastically, rounding on her kitchen with a brand new Spontex in hand, scrubbing away at the dried flour and baking soda while the unassuming scent of vanilla and freshly brewed tea filled her nostrils.
Hodgkin's Residence
4:30 PM
Perpetua flicked on the lights, drowning her pristine flat with a harsh fluorescent glow as she made her way into the kitchen, setting the cheesecake down on the black counter before filling her kettle with tea.
She hopped over to the thermostat and raised the temperature by a few degrees before retrieving two obsidian mugs along with a pair of plates from the dark cupboards.
Setting them down beside the dessert carefully, the witch busied herself with finding tea bags and cutlery before leaning against her kitchen sink, thin lips pursed tightly as she pulled the vial of Casiacognita from her pocket along with her wand.
Aiming the Ebony wood at the potion, she muttered "Evanesco," and watched as the crystal container, along with its contents, vanished into thin air.
She was about to pull out the spider pinch and repeat the process, when a wicked smile sprang onto her lips and she suddenly knew exactly what to do with Miriam Matthews.
The kettle whistled shrilly and Perpetua fixed the tea while waving her wand at the counter as an invisible hand began cutting two, thick slices of cake and dolling them onto the plates.
Confectionery and cutlery floating behind her, the woman entered the living room and set down a steaming mug of Earl Grey on the spotless glass table in front of her plush armchair before placing the other cup in front of the unconscious man who sat, tightly bound, on the chaise lounge opposite.
Hodgkins took her seat, carefully smoothing out her skirt as she watched the plates set themselves down beside the tea.
"Finite Incantatem," she said, waving her wand.
The man jerked awake, panic glinting in his bright hazel eyes as he took in his foreign surroundings and tugged at his bonds.
"Hello Lyall," Perpetua greeted calmly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she watched him intently, his face screwing up in confusion when he recognized her.
"Hodgkins?" He asked unsurely, looking around himself again as though the reason for his abduction would suddenly be written upon the walls. "What the hell is going on?"
The Unspeakable reached forward and grabbed her mug, sipping the tea gingerly before peering up at him with a small smile.
"Why don't you tell me about your son."