Chapter 11: Just Bob, Bob, Bobbing Along
The next morning, Victoire barely made it home in time to shower before meeting Andy and the third floor residents for their first muggle shopping excursion. She felt knackered, she looked knackered, and she couldn't shake the concern that she broadcasted the fact that she'd been up to something she shouldn't. She might not have needed to worry so much as the Viriliter party had apparently raged deep into the night; the boys were visibly dragging as well. Micah and Andy, the only ones showing any real life during the short walk to the neighbourhood market, led the group like grand marshals in a parade of the walking dead, with Diogy on point to herd the stragglers.
So, Victoire wondered, why was she battling a strange compulsion to explain, something… anything?
Truly, how would she even explain that she left Nico Mancini, up and coming chaser for Puddlemere United, because she could barely keep her eyes open despite his dangerously engaging personality and captivating smile - only to come home and spend the remainder of her night doing Merlin knows what in snidget form. The walk through the neighbourhood should have been familiar to her, and yet, the angle of everything - buildings, light posts, bushes and trees – struck her as awkward that morning.
How quickly she had reached the point where she'd experienced the route more from above.
In hindsight, she could have spent the night with Nico for all the sleep she managed. The warmth of him beside her in the proximity of the overcrowded pub rated far preferable than the sticky cobwebs and grit of the cold metal gutter she'd emerged from a remarkably short time earlier. Her skin crawled at the memory, and she scrubbed her hands over her arms where she swore she could still feel the silk of the web adhering there in the same manner the substance had clung to the feathers.
Her action drew Teddy's attention, and she froze for a fraction of a second before casually – she hoped - dropping her hands to her side. His concern spurred an inkling of guilt somewhere deep within her.
Another something she couldn't quite explain.
They neared the market; muggle money in Micah's hand and list in Phineas'. The previous week, the second floor residents had shopped while their group had cooked. The results hadn't been pretty or entirely edible. With the doors in sight, the group rallied in their intention to treat the current week's task as a chance to recoup their reputation as functional members of society.
Any society.
Seriously, millions of muggles did these things everyday without magic, it simply couldn't be as difficult as they were making it.
Gesturing for them to proceed to the market, Andy bought a cup of tea and a muggle newspaper before he took up a seat on the bench outside. Diogy curled up at his feet. They looked to be settling in for a while.
Not having an opinion on much that morning, Victoire left the debate over the ripeness of the fruit and the resulting innuendos to her house mates. She slipped past the group and idly walked around on her own before finding herself in an aisle filled with potions, or, rather, the muggle equivalent to healing potions. She scanned the labels, surveying the symptoms neatly enumerated on the small boxes and bottles. Muggle remedies came in a dizzying array of options. No direct apothecary interaction required. No other person varying a standard brew based on what they determined you needed. Muggles chose on their own- without having to express every detail of what they were experiencing to a potential stranger, or worse, an old school friend of a parent.
Very liberating.
She strolled down the aisle at a pensioner's pace. Her mind matched the indications on each box with an equivalent Newt potion as she went. She finally turned, intending to chase the group she heard laughing close to the front of the store, when she noticed a box with a moon and star motif. Sleeping drought. She paused. There was an entire column of boxes for sleep ailments.
He found her staring at them when he rounded the end of the aisle. She took a half step back, feeling like a fawn caught in the open without its mother. Teddy came up short as well, clearing his throat before speaking, "You get everything you needed?" His eyes raked down the aisle before falling again on her and settling in an inscrutable inspection of her features.
"Wasn't anything in particular I needed," she faltered.
A call from the front of the store brought them both up short, spurring the pair into action. Teddy motioned for her to proceed him out of the aisle. Victoire sensed him checking up on her during the walk back and the subsequent unloading of the groceries. She didn't owe anyone an explanation - didn't even have one - regarding her recent activities. She knew that. She still felt deceptive, somehow; like she should share that she was admittedly attracted to another man and that, in a way, it felt like betrayal.
She said nothing. About anything.
Instead, she escaped back to her room, probably sooner than she should've, but in reality, she hadn't been much help anyway. She dropped to her bed without bothering to remove her shoes; a sure sign she was done. The quick nap she caught before meeting Phineas and Micah on the roof made her feel slightly human. She would have loved to lie about all day, but the three had an extracurricular project that weekend. They intended to make the adjacent roof space usable - a private commons. Each had their own reasons for wanting the extra space, but all were equally committed to making it happen.
Having volunteered some furnishings from the boat, Victoire led the mission to the coast that afternoon to retrieve them. The plan was a double score for Victoire. She needed to get the furniture off the decks, which were due to be refinished, and the act of moving the stuff counted toward fulfilment of her promise to work on the boat every weekend.
Fairies were sticklers for promises.
Victoire insisted on muggle transportation for the deck furniture. She shuddered at the thought of another rug incident and refused to be convinced that nothing could go wrong sending things magically to the neighbouring roof. Maybe muggle immersion living was taking its toll or maybe her inability to control herself was wearing her confidence; either way, she no longer took for granted that things would simply work as she assumed they should.
In the end, Micah came through with something she called a big bob van, and the three were busy stacking the items on the dock in preparation to be delivered.
Victoire looked over the sun-bleached wood of the boat's bow as she grabbed a pair of chair cushions to add to the growing pile. A figure at the edge of the dock caught her attention. Her armload faltered. The solid frame of the observer was not unlike many men she had seen moving gear around the boats, but the shoulders, angled slightly by his stance in a way that was as unique as it was familiar, set his outline apart from those making their way past the weathered post on the pier where he stood. She dumped everything she held onto a nearby tarp, called out to Micah and Phineas before she left, and jumped from the boat.
Long quick strides carried her halfway there. He made no move to meet her. Each subsequent stride slowed in response before she stopped short, leaving a distance of both their arm's length between them and failing on what exactly to say.
He may have waited for her to reach to him, but he didn't wait for her to speak.
"You set Dorothy on me."
"She was worried about you," Victoire accused. She ducked his steady grey gaze, glancing instead at a buoy serving as perch for a seabird - its gaze intent solely on the prospects for a midday meal.
"She said you were worried." His voice carried past her in the breeze.
"You didn't say goodbye." She crossed her arms over her chest, her chin lifted slightly as she cut her eyes back to him.
Owen appeared as though he wanted to be comfortable with her concern, but hadn't quite determined how or even if he should. After a few beats he shook his head, nodding it back against the post behind him twice before coming back straight with a nervous chuckle. "I don't know anyone else who'd attempt indignant with a kitty plastered across their chest."
Victoire looked down at her shirt and uncrossed her arms. The hair restrained in her ponytail thrashed her shoulders and the strands that had worked their way loose whipped at her cheeks and neck in the salty breeze. She attempted to stick a flyaway behind her ear, weighing whether she should retort the kitty comment or say what she really wanted. Truth be told, the urge to hug him for being there while simultaneously throttling him for scaring her with an abrupt departure outweighed anything she could say at that moment.
She managed none of the above, however, as a mountain of a man with a mop of red hair approached them.
"Hi, I'm Bob," he held out a massive hand, greeting each in turn and nodding amicably the whole time. "You know, short for Robert."
Owen and Victoire replied in unison, "Hi, Bob," before giving each other a quick, curious glance.
"Micah said you needed a van," Bob added, still nodding.
"Oh," Victoire exclaimed. A 'big bob van' was, in fact, a very big Bob with a van. She really needed to start listening more closely."Let's see if we can find Micah, shall we?" Victoire offered, casting Owen another quick glance. She knew he couldn't have any idea why Bob was needed, but surely he could tell that they couldn't very well send Big-Muggle-Bob-Short-For-Robert toward a disillusioned boat.
What was Micah thinking having him show up here? Victoire screamed in her head, annoyed more at the interruption than the inconvenience. Her answer appeared in the form of a furry, four-legged early-warning-system, barking and bounding down the dock with Micah close behind.
Micah remained her usual unruffled self, rewarding Diogy with a treat for a job well done before she commenced directing activities with a confidence that had everyone acting without overly questioning anything they were doing. Her cover story about the boat leaving early, thus explaining the empty slip beyond the pile of deck furniture, flowed effortlessly from her lips and managed to do the trick with Bob. He and Owen spent the next hour helping them load the van.
Bob was as good-natured and strong as he was big. Micah and Owen lightened their loads with covert charms, but Bob carried as much or more without the benefit of magic. For the first few loads, Victoire and Phineas hung back to bring out sun umbrellas and the remainder of things they were taking from the boat's interior. Bob never questioned the fact that the pile to be loaded remained essentially the same for quite some time.
Phineas pulled Micah back when they were midway through the loading process and whispered rather loudly, "Are you altering that boy's memory?"
Victoire sensed Owen stiffen beside her.
"He's older than you are, Fin," Micah returned easily. "And, believe me, his obliviousness is neither an accident nor an incident of spell work." She surveyed the group before casting a glance at Bob, now halfway down the dock. "Give me a little credit, OK? Any man who feels the need to tell me Bob is short for Robert can't be too hard to outsmart."
Victoire giggled. Apparently, that was Bob's big opener.
She glanced at Owen, to see if he caught that as well, only to find him with the same near frown that had been pulling his features since his return. Her amused smile dropped as she felt completely at a loss; she wished she knew what he was thinking.
Or, maybe, she wished she didn't know what he was thinking about.
With an affectionate glace at Bob as he ambled toward his van, Micah said, "He may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's real sweet, and he can lift heavy things."
Phineas merely shook his head before he picked up a pair of chairs to load without comment and, Victoire noted, without a charm.
She hesitated to follow Phineas and Micah, holding Owen back when he reached for a stack of torches. He looked at her hand on his arm, then at her and cocked his head.
"Before," she faltered, "I, ah, wanted to say … I'm sorry… about, um, the wand…"
He stepped up and pulled her in before she could struggle with more awkward fragments. She'd remember that hug as the only tentative thing she'd ever known him to do, and she expected the release when he let her go directly.
"You were worried," he stated, still testing the sound of it in his own ears.
She stepped to the rail. "Thought there was nothing left to keep you here," she replied, contemplating the waves for a few beats before turning back.
"Never been that much to keep me anywhere." His eyes held the hint of a warning.
Not knowing why, she nodded in response. The gesture felt appropriate, and Owen seemed relieved by it; with an exhale, his expression settled into a shade of his usual casualness. Turning to the pile, he reached for a pair of cushions and tossed them to her.
A few more trips down the weathered dock and they were done. Owen headed back to his hotel, after promising – three times - to be there the following day when Victoire could drop by, and Victoire found herself in the van with Micah and Phineas. How Micah talked Bob into leaving his vehicle in their hands was a mystery to Victoire, but there he remained, content to wait in the nearby pub for its return. His main concern had not been for the safety of the vehicle, little did he know that two witches and a wizard didn't equal one muggle driver. No, Bob merely asked if they'd have enough help to unload.
Halfway to the immersion house, Victoire wondered if she could Apparate from a moving vehicle. She didn't care if she was the reason they were on their current path - when she said muggle means she expected it to be by muggles. She never intended to take an active part in it. Feeling impatient and slightly fevered, something she related to lack of sleep and mental exertion, had become standard for her recently. Her concern for Owen added a layer of agitation that was new and, most assuredly, not helpful in maintaining her fragile equilibrium. Motor fumes and Micah's driving threatened to pull her over the edge.
Micah substantiated her claim that she could manage the vehicle she was in, although she remained iffy on the details of where and when she learned to drive. Her relationship with other vehicles on the road, however, proved problematic. She tended to choose the wrong lane in relation to the muggle drivers, and you didn't need to be muggle born to interpret the hand gestures they were getting; those sentiments were universal. Victoire had no idea how Micah could possibly justify muttering about everyone else being on the wrong side of the road.
They simply couldn't get to the house fast enough for Victoire, but it appeared Phineas had reservations as he abandoned the map he'd been studying and concentrated fully on the roadway they travelled. "You're exceeding the recommended speed by a large margin," he informed Micah with real concern.
"Must be a metric thing," Micah returned, darting a glance down at the various dials surrounding the steering column for perhaps the first time since she turned the ignition.
"You need to stop saying that. Its neither an excuse nor or a plausible explanation," Phineas lectured before shaking he head. "I still cannot believe you got anyone to buy it for last week's mince pie. Its not logical. There's no conversion factor; not then, not now - the signs are posted in the same measurement increments as the gauge." He waved the map in the direction of the speedometer.
Victoire slumped down as far as her shoulder restraint would allow and dropped her head to her hands. She would gladly have eaten last week's wretched salt lick of a meal - twice over even - to be out of that van right then. The remainder of that discussion, the following academic debate over best route, and the drive itself washed over Victoire's bent head. She didn't lift up until she heard the absence of the engine and felt the vehicle still entirely.
The surest way to learn to appreciate what you have is to go without it. Victoire couldn't recall where that piece of wisdom originated in her subconscious, but unloading the van with the full extent of their magic brought it back to mind. In a fraction of the time and with minimal effort, the roof was littered with the furnishings from the boat. The van ride was a repressed memory, and some well placed silencing charms had them in their own space without a care of disturbing their muggle neighbours, whose roof they were blatantly trespassing.
"This is an abundance of stuff," Phineas commented at the disorganized mess. He looked at the girls, "You're not planning any big parties up here, are you?" His forehead creased slightly at the thought of his quiet, open air study retreat being offered to the general public.
"Don't worry, Fin," Micah assured, "The only person I intend to share this with is Diogy. The yards in this neighbourhood are a joke, and he's not used to being cooped up."
Victoire felt a slight twitch of guilt, especially in light of Phineas' relieved expression. "I, umm, only told Teddy."
"You told Teddy about the roof?" Micah asked, suddenly more concerned than Phineas.
"Umm, yes," Victoire replied in a small voice.
"Oh, darlin'." Micah sighed with a slight shake of her head, surveying Victoire as if diagnosing the symptoms of an illness. "You truly have no sense of self preservation, do you?"
Victoire briefly met both their gazes across the mass of furnishings before focusing on a haphazard stack of cushions which were threatening to topple themselves. "You know, he's been my best friend all my life. It's difficult not to tell him things," she retorted.
"Did you also tell him you're still in love with him?" That earned Micah a hurt look from Victoire and a sharp look from Phineas.
"I did not. I am not," Victoire countered quickly, tracking Micah with suspicion as she moved lithely around the maze of items without so much as disturbing the precarious balance of cushions.
Micah shook her head again as she approached Victoire for a hug. "Your heart's too big for the real world, you know that?"
Not sure how to take that, Victoire half shrugged and glanced at Phineas, who was actively avoiding looking directly at the scene. "I'm sorry, Fin. I won't tell anyone else."
Phineas looked back quickly and replied, "Teddy's fine. Owen, too. I don't want to dictate-"
"No, you're not," Victoire interjected. "I forgot about Owen…he kind of knows already, but, that's all. Really." She hesitated for a second, realizing that, with Sara gone, those four were the only people she would call friends. Such a small group; you'd think she could keep up with them better.
Micah squeezed Victoire's shoulder before she returned to sorting. "I reckon it'll all work out fine." She levitated some lounge chairs to the sunniest spot. "It's all good on the roof," she reassured as she continued to flip the chairs around in the air with rhythmic, dancelike motions until she appeared satisfied with the arrangement; at which time, they dropped obediently into formation. "Or, shall we call it the penthouse?"
"I think Vic has the penthouse, so this would be more like the courtyard," Teddy's resonant voice preceded him through the window.
Victoire felt everyone's gaze on her as she stepped around the lounge chairs and approached Teddy. "Hi, welcome to our urban retreat."
"This is great," he said, walking around the perimeter and taking it all in. The disorganized mess was quickly sorting itself out as wands waved and items arranged themselves. The roof, previously flat barring the brick facade that defined three of its borders and the knee-high ledge of the fourth that provided access from the fire escape, took shape before their eyes. Table and chairs with an umbrella set up on one side, loungers rested in the sunny middle, and Micah had even conjured a small pool, presumably for the dog, toward the back corner of the remaining side. "Can't believe all the stuff you've got out here."
"From my boat," Victoire explained, completely conflicted on how she felt having him there. Unable to withhold this - a shared secret - from him, you'd think she'd be able to tell him she had a simple date coming up. "I needed to store it anyway, so this works out well."
"Your boat?" Teddy stopped short.
"You know about this place, but you don't know about the boat?" Micah looked between Victoire and Teddy with her gaze resting on Victoire.
Teddy didn't allow for an answer to Micah's question. "Wait. The boat they all talk about is yours." He looked to Victoire. "When did you get a boat?"
"I bought it a year ago and, as is their custom, the whole family has taken over. It's really developed a life of its own." Victoire dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand. When she caught Teddy's disbelieving look, her nerves, already on edge, bristled. "Things happened while you were gone," she added a bit more strongly than she intended, especially when combined with the hands she realized had made their way to her hips.
Teddy cocked his head, eyes wary. "Erm, yeah. I mean, that's not quite fair." He shifted his weight. "I know that. Its…I don't see you father going for it. Not at your age-"
"I'm not sixteen anymore." She was all in now. She brought a hand up, pointing one finger. "I made a convincing argument." Two fingers. "I had the money." Three fingers. "And I had just made Head Girl. Something else you might've known - had you thought to ask." Hands back on hips. "So, yeah, I got my boat."
Teddy rallied, "Look, I didn't say you weren't mature." He held his hands up in front of himself. "I remember you talking about boats when we were kids. Didn't know you still thought about them."
He dropped his hands only after she dropped hers with an exhale and a glance down at her trainers and back to him.
"Honestly," he continued deliberately, "I'm gobsmacked Bill would go for it. I think it's great, though. I'd love to see it sometime," he finished with a warm smile.
How did he manage to turn things around so easily? Feeling slightly absurd for her outburst, she replied softly, "Sometime," before diverting her gaze to what remained of the pile of furnishings. "Why bring the owl cage?" She changed the subject, grabbing the ring topping the dome of the wrought iron cage and lifting it away from the stack of torches on which it perched.
Phineas and Micah shared a look before Micah spoke, "We know you keep an owl in your room. Half the house knows from movin' the rug."
"Moving the bird to the roof will keep you in compliance with the house code," Phineas added, stepping up behind Micah and, in essence, talking over her head. "Allowing you proximity, but saving you the repercussions of someone reporting a magical pet in the house."
Gidget.
The tale of Gidget was one of those stories in school that everyone knew, but not really. Unable to keep it from her dormitory mates and, therefore, unable to keep it from the student body in general, the tale spread in the form of a warning: domestic owls are not singularly suited for crossing oceans, so its best not to risk a common owl when specialized species are available for such needs. She never thought it would follow her here where there was no one to be bothered by an open window at night. She thought there'd be no explanations required.
Of course, she never thought the tale would follow her to Hogsmeade either. Never thought that Hufflepuff would twist it into something different and wrong. No one anticipated the chain of events set in motion by that tale.
Victoire drew in a deep breath. "If Gidget shows up, I'd gladly accept any repercussions. I've been waiting a long time for her," she said with quiet conviction.
Micah puzzled the meaning of Victoire's admission, but the wheels were turning for Phineas. Victoire saw recognition dawn in the widening of his eyes and the silent 'oh' emitted from his mouth before he cast her an apologetic look.
"You really are a hopeless romantic," Micah commented softly, having reached her own conclusion.
"No," Phineas corrected her. Micah swivelled her head to glance back over her shoulder, following Victoire's gaze which trained on Phineas as well. "Hopeful romantic," he asserted. "A hopeless romantic wouldn't think to leave the window open."
Micah's nod of concession was lost on Victoire, however, whose attention focussed on the one person on that roof who hadn't yet commented. Gidget was not a topic she intended to broach with Teddy. She quickly launched an offensive diversion: "Did you know Owen was back?"
Teddy, about to speak, hesitated a fraction of a second, processing the change of topic. "You heard from him?"
She nodded, sweeping her arm toward Micah and Phineas. "We saw him."
Teddy looked like he didn't believe her, and he might not have without Micah and Phineas right there to back her up. Needless to say, she had Teddy sufficiently diverted, bordering on shocked.
Micah and Phineas discretely left to the vicinity of the pool and began discussing the requirements of conjuring a fire pit.
"Is he good?" Teddy asked.
"Not entirely."
Teddy's brows drew together, and he stepped close to Victoire, searching her face. "Why'd he come back, then?"
"Dorothy was worried."
"Dorothy at work?" His head shook its own response. "That makes no sense."
Teddy knew Owen the best, and Victoire counted on him to do what needed to be done for Owen – whatever that might be. "He can't simply give up," she insisted. "There's something we missed; there has to be."
His eyes focussed again on hers, his scepticism now tinged with a touch of wonder.
"I'm sorry about Gidget."
Damn.
"You want to talk about it?"
Sure, let's see, where to begin …
Did you ever receive that last letter she carried? The one going on about how I'd saved enough to visit you on holiday. Together.
Think she passed your last owl on her way out of town?
Hell, no. She didn't want to talk about it.
"Already have. Long time ago," she answered without inflection.
A frown etched his features and he looked…disappointed. She tried to determine exactly what reflected in his eyes; they appeared a little lost, but that could be a trick of the light against their colour.
"You probably should talk to Owen," she offered.
Victoire climbed in from the fire escape and nearly dropped the unwieldy volume Phineas had loaned her, Animagi of the Middle Ages, as she closed the window behind her. She caught it at the last second, but froze for a moment, worried that she had managed to mark up the antique, which took up an entire tabletop when opened with its bold gothic script and detailed artwork. No discernable damage done, but she decided to return it immediately rather than risk doing anything else to threaten the well preserved but obviously ancient binding. She doubted she could fit a book its size in her room anyway, and in all honestly, she didn't relish the dusty, musty smell of its pages currently invading her senses in the closed space of the stairwell.
The sounds of movement and the murmur of conversation below indicated that Micah and Phineas were back from returning the van so she took the few steps down. The door to the third floor landing was cracked open a hair when she got there, poised with her free hand on the knob. Micah and Phineas weren't the only ones home, and the topic of conversation halted her in her tracks the moment the words became clear.
"You understand its not something you'll be sharing with Iska, right?" The voice was Micah's. The question delivered in conversational tone.
"What do you mean by that?" Teddy shot back, his voice preceding his footsteps across the landing to Phineas and Micah's suite.
"I mean: that roof's not a place for her so please refrain from sharing," Micah reiterated from the vicinity of her doorway.
"Are you telling me to keep things from my girlfriend?" Teddy's voice was incredulous.
"I'm telling you to keep this from your girlfriend."
"I don't keep things from Iska."
"Really?" Micah's voice held a challenge. "You tell Iska you bring Vic tea to class every morning? Always a different flavour, so it's a surprise, and always waiting at the chair next to you."
Victoire caught the sound of Phineas' voice next – muffled – likely from the interior of the room, giving a warning, "Micah."
Micah remained undeterred, her speech picking up momentum. "Sure, tell your little girlfriend all about the notes you write in Vic's margins. While your at it, be sure to mention that you pay more attention to the men noticin' her than she does. Go, share all you want, but, let me be very clear, Iska should not be invited to the roof."
Victoire knew it was coming. Micah didn't back down when she chose to push a point. Teddy didn't like corners or being pushed.
"What the hell do you have against Iska?" he exploded.
Victoire winced despite the buffer of the door and the fact that she'd anticipated it. Diogy reacted. His nails clinked on the wood floors as he must have jumped up from whatever spot of floor he'd been occupying, letting out a low, warning growl.
"Down boy," Micah returned immediately, not sounding the least bit intimidated by the anger she'd provoked from Teddy. "She reminds me a lot of my mother. I don't get along well with my mother."
Diogy padded around the floor, likely still on edge. His footsteps were muted, but the floor creaking below them gave away his movements.
"I don't see you getting along well with anyone," Teddy accused in a tight voice. Victoire suspected he was trying to regain his composure. Teddy didn't like showing his anger any more than he liked being pushed into corners.
"I could debate that point with you," Micah sounded amused, "but I'd rather discuss why you're ignoring everything else I said."
Victoire was so caught up envisioning them beyond the door, she'd lost track of the dog until a wet nose appeared through the crack, threatening to still her heart completely. She clasped her hand over her mouth before giving Diogy a quick scratch between the eyes lightly pushing his big head back through the gap with the same motion. She waved her hand for him to move away, mouthed a silent 'go lay down', and closed the door swiftly, retreating back to her room and hoping the dog didn't give away her eavesdropping.
The day had started with guilt, and the day was going to end with guilt. Guilt and a massive, musty book she now had to find a spot for. Lovely.
She opened her window all the way that night when she replaced the water bowl on the sill.
"Goodnight Gidget."