Chapter 10: Adventures In Competitive Table Poaching
"Micah, we're the only women here."
"Noticed," she replied, examining the wood paneled lounge with its leather club chairs clustered around large ottomans. Its many men gathered throughout. "Might explain why the doorman checked the invitation twice."
"And, why he was laughing when he said, 'Sure, Michael, why not bring your friend along'."
"I'm laughing too." And she was. "How come you're not?"
Victoire stared at her. They were late, of course, so the reception was in full swing when they entered, making their presence even more obvious. She felt like a trespasser. She wondered when the last time – if there was any other time - a woman had passed the threshold into this fortress of testosterone. She'd wager the furniture would swallow her whole. Oversized and overstuffed, every chair and table looked like it was built to withstand a heard of raging centaurs. The air smelled of seared meat, wood polish, and aged leather. Barring the thick pile of the oriental rugs and the heavy velvet of the drapes, there wasn't a fabric to be found throughout the vast room's torch lit interior.
Micah stood unperturbed by the attention their attendance warranted. Victoire regretted agreeing to come. Truth be told, she didn't remember being asked. Micah showed up with the invitation and told her to stop hiding and get dressed.
She hadn't been hiding. She'd been napping. A week had passed since she first woke up in the forest, and she hadn't made it through the night in her own bed since. She greeted the mornings nestled in some neighborhood crook or cranny, never feeling as if she'd slept at all. It was beginning to wear on her, but she hadn't yet managed to admit what was happening to anyone.
"We should leave," Victoire whispered, trying not to move her lips as she formed the words.
"Why?"
Victoire didn't have time to explain the obvious due to the approach of a pair of men. She wondered if they had appointed themselves the welcoming committee or the bouncers.
"You birds lost?" The first, a stocky dark haired man with a swagger, greeted them with an appraising look and a crooked grin.
"Teacups are west side," the second one, a short man with no neck, taunted.
"Teasley Hall?" Micah scoffed, "Bunch of salad eaters. My invite says Viriliter."
The first man snorted and held out a hand for the invitation.
"Victoire Weasley," the second one leered, "Heard you were on campus."
"Easy, killer," the first man chided his friend, looking up from the invitation. "You're making the lady uncomfortable." He squinted at Micah for a moment before his eyes widened. "You were with Colburn. Yesterday." He turned to scan the interior of the oversized man cave.
Victoire saw him first, in a group of black leather chairs across the room. Phineas was talking, leaning forward in his seat; knees spread wide, elbows propped on them, hands moving to illustrate whatever he was saying. The man opposite reclined in his seat; one arm slung over the back, the other loosely cupped a glass on the rolled arm of his chair, his feet propped up on the cocktail ottoman between them. Whatever they were discussing, it was holding the attention of more guys standing behind their chairs. Some were leaning in, all were grinning, and a few punctuated the discussion with their own remarks.
"Colburn!"
Phineas began turning toward the summons, but didn't break eye contact with his friend until he had finished his sentence. When his head swung around fully and his eyes caught up, they locked on Micah and widened. He no longer looked relaxed.
"You know these ladies," the stocky man's voice boomed across the room again. Every pair of eyes that hadn't already checked out their arrival trained in on Victoire and Micah.
Phineas excused himself from his group, crossing the room in a few quick strides. "Is something wrong?"
"Fin," Micah glossed over the question, "If I knew you were invited as well, we could have walked together."
"Together?" the greeter packed a lot of emphasis into the word.
"Invited…" Phineas stalled for a moment, realizing what the other man had said. He looked at both members of the welcoming parade, closed his eyes for a moment. He took a breath before making quick introductions; the tall greeter's name was Vincent, his sidekick Stanley. "I told the membership I was taking residence in a Muggle Immersion House this year," Phineas went on to explain, gesturing between himself and the girls, "We're all in the same house."
Vincent's grin grew wider. "That right, Fin?"
Phineas winced but ignored Vincent, turning to Micah instead with what appeared to be great hope the situation could be resolved quickly. Victoire was rooting for him; she was good with leaving. Just their luck, however, Stanley preempted Phineas.
"Why sign up for immersion?" He threw Phineas an incredulous look. "You had the perfect exemption."
"She's not an exemption. She's my sister," Phineas snapped.
"Easy," apparently Vincent liked that word. "Stan's merely confused why someone would use an exemption one year and renounce it the next." He eyed both men. "Topic for another time." His cocky smile returned as he motioned in the direction of the girls. "We have guests."
A simple wave of a hand and the men were beyond whatever had transpired the previous minute. Victoire wished she had that capacity. Even a little bit.
Phineas returned to task, addressing Micah at last, "You didn't gather that the invitation was a mistake? Bimas still thinks you're male."
Stanley laughed, "I'm afraid we'll have to have verification on that."
"I'm afraid you won't be getting that," Micah bantered right back.
"Don't you have a prospect you're sponsoring?" Phineas pinched the bridge of his nose before gazing down it at Stanley. "I think your time's better spent introducing the bore around. Presently, there isn't a deatheater's chance at Hogwarts his name's passing the goblet."
Phineas then turned to Vincent before anyone else could interject anything. "And, your cousin's quoting the Quibbler."
Vincent rolled his eyes. "I'm casting the blackball for him myself." He grabbed Stanley, "We'll leave you to it, then." He shot Phineas a pointed, though still highly amused, look. "For now." He affected a bow in the direction of the girls. "Ladies." One tug on Stanley's arm, and they were winding their way through the room.
"You're a member here?" Victoire asked in the wake of their retreat. It was an obvious question, but she felt the need to say something. She could feel eyes on them from all directions. It unnerved her.
He nodded. "Umm, can you go? Please. The guys are trying to get to know some of the new students, and you two are… distracting."
"Sure, Fin." Micah agreed to which Phineas let out a sigh of relief.
"One thing first." Ignoring Victoire's groan, she added, "Point me to the powder room."
She smiled sweetly at Phineas.
"Can't you…" his words trailed off awkwardly.
Micah shook her head.
Victoire suppressed a giggle. She felt downright evil for it, but it was there nonetheless.
Phineas pointed to a hall midway across the room.
"Thank you," Micah beamed and spun on her heals in that direction.
Victoire took pity on Phineas as Micah strode off, promising they would be gone the minute Micah emerged again and convincing him to return to his seat. Her gesture left her uncomfortably exposed when he relented, heading back with a quick check over his shoulder halfway across the room. She planned to stay close to the door, but when time ticked by without Micah's return, she was forced to consider looking for her. She contemplated the pros and cons of a search until a man, previously leaning against a polished wood paneled wall nearby, pushed himself off and approached with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
Victoire made a beeline for the powder room.
No Micah. How had she missed her? Victoire stepped out cautiously. She glanced around until she caught the sound of a dulcet voice amidst the deeper, raucous chorus of the Viriliter membership and their eager-to-make-an-impression prospects.
Micah stood by some windows, framed by their rich velvet drapes, chatting up someone from their Wandlore lab. Brian was his name. On her approach, Victoire caught excerpts of how they found themselves in a Viriliter party. Micah had an appetizer in her hand as she laughed along with Brian. Victoire strode up and grabbed the hand not handling the food.
"Hi Brian," she greeted, "We need to be going now so you boys can have your fun. See you in class Monday?"
"Sure." He nodded with a smile. "You going out," he asked hopefully, "Maybe I'll see you later."
"You might," Micah responded before Victoire could reply.
They left Brian, but Micah stalled at several other spots.
"Micah," Victoire scolded the other girl who had snagged another appetizer passing by, throwing her what she hoped approached Nana's you-didn't-just do-that look. "We promised we would leave. Not raid their pantry."
"Whole point of an eating club should be eating." Micah pulled a beef kabob from a hovering tray and twirled it around to admire. "These boys know how to eat!"
"Genuine elf rolled cigars, mates," a new arrival called, lifting a cedar box above his head like a trophy, triggering a wave of 'Viriliter age!' shouts throughout the room. He stuttered to a stop when he caught site of the girls. "Ah, bugger. Who brought their bint?"
Victoire shot Micah another look.
"OK, fine," she conceded. "Another round of appetizers and we're gone."
"Are we going to Teasley's meet and greet?" Victoire's eyes narrowed. She wasn't sure she was up for another membership audition, especially knowing good and well Micah wasn't interested in joining a social club. Even for food. Micah's mode of operating ran more along the lines of pulling men from the bar where she worked to take her to dinner.
"That was yesterday." Micah stuck her tongue out at Victoire. "You missed it. Lucky you."
That sounded about right. Victoire vaguely remembered seeing the invitation, and she thought the house was quiet yesterday evening. "That why the Pauls were so fussed?"
Micah smiled. "They want in Teasley bad. And don't think it doesn't tick them off the Teacups asked where you were."
"I don't want to be a Teacup."
"Exactly."
Victoire shook her head. The estrogen rich environment of the woman's eating club was perfect for the Pauline and Paulette. For Victoire, none of them, not even the less exclusive mixed gender halls, seemed to be worth the trouble. Sure, she liked the idea of having her meals cooked for her whenever she wanted, but she didn't need to pay dues. She had a Mum for that.
Not quite to the entry yet, Victoire cast a guilty glance across the room and caught Phineas tracking their progress. She hadn't anticipated competing with food and needed to give Micah a better incentive to hurry. "How're things going with Fin? He going to survive your invasion of his turf?"
Micah's confident expression never wavered, but she picked up her pace as she answered, "Good." She nodded, finishing the last bite of her kabob before continuing, "He's getting used to me. Building up a tolerance so to speak. 'Course I make sure I'm fully dressed at all times." She wiped her mouth one last time and deposited her napkin in a nearby bin. "That kind of thing could set us back entirely."
The door was in sight. They were almost there when someone called out. Victoire instinctively straightened at the sound of the voice, raking the hair back from the side of her face as she turned. Teddy and Armond were at the hospitality bar a short distance from the entry.
"What are you doing here?" she blurted when they walked up. They can't have been there long. She would have known if they had been there the whole time.
"Got an invitation." Teddy replied, "Better question: what are you?"
Victoire rolled her eyes. "Long story," she said.
"Got an invitation," Micah said.
"But, obviously not that long." Victoire bowed her head and peaked back up at Teddy.
"Invitation," Armond chimed in, looking between the girls and settling on Micah, "You two the entertainment?"
"No."
"Ritual sacrifice?"
Micah shook her head. "Clerical error."
Armond feigned disappointment. "I liked mine better."
"You do have a certain flair," Micah admitted. "We were just on our way out, right, Vic?"
Oh, yes, that.
Before Victoire could articulate, Teddy spoke up, "I'm glad you're here. I was looking for you."
She brightened, "You were?"
"Yeah, about Owen. We finished his list-"
"When?"
"Today. Iska's traveling this week so we hit the last together. Thing is," he paused and gave her a loaded look, "We didn't find an answer, not even with the women."
"No," her voice sank with her spirits. "Where is he now?"
Teddy shrugged, " 'On walkabout' which is Owen for hotel skipping until he gets over his strop and is fit company again."
"You let him go?"
"There was no letting," Teddy stated, not affronted by the accusation in her tone.
"We need to find him," Victoire insisted.
"You won't find him if he doesn't want to be found," Teddy affirmed dropping a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.
"He's done this before?"
Teddy gave a nod. "Last year, when he lost his wand. We ran into some trouble; sank a boat, he blamed himself."
"What?" She glared at him, earning a second hand on the other shoulder; like he was holding her to the spot.
"That's a long story," his voice was calm, reassuring.
"Sank a boat," chimed Armond. The group turned to stare at him. "What?" he complained, "That only works once?"
Micah slapped her hand over her eyes and shook her head.
Victoire turned back to Teddy, searching his face. "So, you're saying we do nothing?"
"You can't find him, but you can let him know that you're looking." His hands slipped from her shoulder to grasp each of hers. "That helps."
She wasn't convinced, but she nodded, taking comfort in his dark eyes. The look was familiar even if their color remained unsettling to her.
An owl and a phone call later, Victoire entered the Leaky Cauldron with Micah. As Teddy warned, she failed to get a response from Owen by wizard or muggle means. She did reach his assistant. Dorothy assured her that if anyone could track the man down, she could. Victoire took some comfort in that.
"You did what you could," Micah consoled as she guided Victoire further into the pub. "There's nothing else for you to do tonight."
Victoire nodded vaguely as she assessed their chances of getting a seat. Not bloody likely. The place was packed, not an open chair in sight. The bar was standing room only, four deep all around, and the outer walls were lined with people. One particularly brave group crowded the floo. They appeared to have worked out the logistics with some impressive hovering charms to lift their beverages to the ceiling at the first spark of green. The wizards themselves weren't as slick, Victoire noted, as someone stumbled out of the grate and knocked them around a bit. They didn't seem to care as long as nothing spilled. She watched them stumble, prop up the couple coming through, push the pair along to the bar area, and reassemble with hands held up to snag their drinks back.
"Maybe, we should call it a night," she ventured. "You know, go home and let the dog out." She hadn't gotten a proper nap before Micah swooped in on her, and her friend's boundless energy was making her feel tired and sluggish in comparison. Not that she relished the thought of going to bed; not when she had no idea what her feathered self was up to in the wee hours.
Micah tossed her head back over her shoulder. "Diogy's fine." They wove their way through the maze of cramped tables, nearing the center of the pub. "Fin's a runner. Takes him for miles every morning. I tossed him some balls this afternoon. Trust me, the dog's sleeping."
Lucky him.
Victoire had no idea where Micah was headed until three Ministry employees at a table all rose at the precise moment she and Micah neared.
Adeptly, Micah slid in and procured the table. She even managed the blessing of its previous occupants, one of which held the chairs out for her and Victoire. The crowd surged as the Ministry employees stood. Scouts from other standing groups pressed in to see where they might have vacated, only to wander back to the periphery disappointed.
"That was impressive," Victoire complimented over the empty glasses.
"Not my first time in a pub."
A man approached snagging the extra chair for his girlfriend which he then presented with a all the pride of a game winning snitch. The waitress followed, cleaning the table debris with a flourish and taking their order. When she departed, Micah spoke up, "Putting aside your friend's problem, are we going to talk about your problem?"
Victoire froze. She knew? Had Micah seen her? Had she witnessed what Victoire couldn't remember? Her palms moistened. She wasn't sure if she felt more relieved or scared that Micah might know what had been happening the last week. "Problem," she squeaked.
Micah nodded, "You change. Whenever he enters the room, it's like you go on hyper alert."
Victoire blinked, taking a moment to acclimate to the topic. "Teddy?"
"There are other men out there, you know, every bit as attractive," Micah lectured, "More than a few of them have the added bonus of being attracted to you."
She nodded toward a table of quidditch players. Victoire glanced to the side and met with a pair of light green eyes. She looked down at the table, and heard Micah sigh.
"You can't get over him, if you never look away from him."
The waitress returned to drop off their order, and Victoire took another peak to her right. Mr. Green Eyes was still looking at her. This time he smiled. He had a great smile; natural, without a hint of suggestion or arrogance. Victoire felt her lips curve up in response with her own shy smile.
It had been a long time since Victoire had allowed herself to enjoy a man's attention. In her experience, attention was a double edged sword. It provided benefits, sure, but all too often there was a price to be paid. Expectations, based on superficial assessments and having nothing to do with the real person, often led to disappointment; sometimes even anger when she proved not to be who someone wanted her to be.
Teddy knew the real her, her traitorous thoughts broke through, and she had proven not to be what he wanted either.
She looked back at Micah before her thoughts could cloud her features, but she could tell Micah picked up on something. She quickly spoke to convince herself as much as Micah, "You're right. I need to take a chance and go for it."
"Woah," Micah cautioned, clearly taken back by the swift turn and the determination in Victoire's tone, "How far are you willing to go? You need to be clear on that before you go anywhere." She put a hand lightly on Victoire's forearm. "Because I'm not suggesting you go for it at all. You don't need to further complicate your life with it just now."
"What were you just saying?"
"Go for him, or rather give him a chance when he comes for you, but – sugar, really." She removed her hand from Victoire and propped her chin on it, regarding her friend. "Do you ever stop to test the water before you dive in?"
A fleeting image of a hippocampus flashed through Victoire's mind.
Micah shook her head. "I bartend, muggle or wizard, its all the same. The biggest regrets are over things done for the wrong reasons."
"I have no intention of going all the way with the guy," Victoire leaned in and lowered her voice as she said it, although the background noise made the gesture unnecessary. "What do you think of me?"
"I think that its more important to know how far you are willing to go rather than how far you are not willing to go," Micah returned evenly, continuing with a pointed look. "Eliminates any confusion that might arise in the heat of the moment."
Victoire sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. "I'm pretty sure home is where I want to go now."
"You can't." Micah raised her glass in front of her mouth as she continued, "You get up now, you're going to run right into him."
Victoire looked over her shoulder and there he was, same easy smile gracing his features.