A/N: Did I say I'd be updating every Tuesday? I lied. It's Quarantine Time baby let's throw caution to the wind. Updates twice a week for the time being since I am obsessed with Josie and Bill and have tons of chapters ready to post ;D
hwansun: I agree, not nearly enough stories about him. I've only just become obsessed with Bill and have already read pretty much everything that exists for his character which is tragic. I am a sucker for characters like this tbh I think there's something wrong with me ;) Anyway thank you so much! I'm so glad that you're as excited about this story as I am. My apparent love for Bill Weasley has just hit me out of the blue and I'm obsessed now :) Hope you continue to enjoy the story, I have lots planned!
Purplestan: Thanks! Yes, I am a sucker for a happy ending, so worry not ;) The angst won't be too bad after the first few chapters, once the plot starts moving forward a bit more
SarcasticRaven: Thank you! :)
PoppyRosaLawston: Thanks! Glad you like my style and the story! I'm really excited about this one. Josie is so fun to write and I can't wait to introduce the great and terrible Ricardo Vasquez. You will love him desperately
Lalyh17: Thank you! I actually really like Fleur's character, so there's no danger of her becoming a slut in this story! Besides, that would be taking the easy road and I like to over-complicate my life way too much ;)
hella-sirius: AHHHH I missed you ;D I hope you're doing well! Glad you're enjoying Cajamarca so far, I'm really excited to start posting it! I have been writing this story nonstop all week even though I should be writing Vivicendium. Can't stop myself, I am possessed by the writing gods. Anyway I'm glad you like Josie's character. She definitely is a chaotic disaster and it's definitely going to get worse before it gets better ;)
Hope you all enjoy! Next update on Tuesday. For real this time, I should probably turn my focus to Vivicendium before Vivirius fans revolt on me ;)
Chapter Two | Never Fall for your Best Friend
Josie wakes up to the scent of bacon, and for a moment she thinks that she's back home. She can practically hear her dad whistling cheerfully as he mans the stove, cracking sizzling eggs over the hot pan as the morning light streams over his weathered face. He'd wink at her when she'd come lumbering into the kitchen, half asleep and blinking blearily. There would always be a cup of tea ready for her at the kitchen table, courtesy of her mum, who would look up from the latest essay she was marking and smile at her when she fell into her chair. Her parents would playfully bicker back and forth about how to cook breakfast the correct way and her dad would always end the argument with the same line: "You're not the cook in this family, love, I am." As a restaurant owner, her dad likes to think he's a master chef.
For a moment, Josie smiles into her pillow and sleepily raises her arms in a languid stretch. Both her parents are muggles and they were a bit skeptical to the wonders of magic, once the novelty had worn off. Her dad would always say, "You can't cut corners with cooking, Josie," whenever she'd offer to help out in the kitchen with magic. Despite his initial refusal, he'd always end up griping about how she should've just helped him anyway, but the situation would always come full circle the next time she'd offer. She thinks she gets her stubbornness from her dad, honestly. If he can't do something himself, then he doesn't do it at all.
Her mum's a different story entirely. She needs someone to rely on or else she can't function. That's probably why she ended up remarrying only two years after the divorce. It's not a bad thing, of course, needing someone. For example, she doubts she would've gotten through her first year of Hogwarts without Bill –
Josie's eyes fly open, sitting up so quickly that the headache that's been lingering quietly at the back of her head throttles forward at full-force. She careens into a fetal position as yesterday comes flooding back.
Bill.
Fuck.
Josie closes her eyes tightly and rolls back into the pillow, which she now recognizes as one she definitely does not own. Now that she's looking at it, the flowery border on the pillowcase looks a bit familiar. Molly must've given it to Bill in order to spruce up his flat. Always was a homemaker, Mrs. Weasley.
Holy Merlin, did she cry on him? Did she – did she vomit in front of him?
She buries her face in her arms and inhales deeply, trying to sort out the events of the night before. Right. After her horrendous day at work, she was kicked out of her flat. She went to see if Tom had any spare rooms. Firewhiskey. Bill. She thinks she's missing something, but the more she tries to wrack her brain for answers, the more her headache sinks its claws into her, so she just decides to focus on what's important right now:
1. It's a work day, which means she can't lie in bed forever and she's going to have to get up soon or she'll be late.
2. The scent of bacon tells her that Bill is already awake and is probably wondering if she's still alive, which means he's most likely going to check on her once he's got a moment.
3. She smells like firewhiskey and vomit, which means a shower is definitely in order. Which also means that she'll have to used Bill's shower. The shower that he gets into naked.
Focus, Josie. Right.
4. She's absolutely starving, as she hadn't eaten anything for dinner last night because she was kicked out of her flat, which means she needs to either beg Tom to give her a room at The Leaky Cauldron or go find a box to sleep in for the foreseeable future.
5. She doesn't want to sleep in a box, which means she's just going to have to work on her womanly charms so that Tom will take pity on her.
Okay, right, that's all well and good, but this doesn't help her with the most pressing issue: getting out of bed. It's not the actual getting out of bed part that makes her nervous, of course, but rather the part that includes braving a certain red haired curse-breaker who had carried her up two flights of stairs last night. Fuck.
As the memories continue to pour into her head, Josie groans and rolls to the edge of the mattress, wondering if she should just keep rolling onto the floor and hope that she hits her head hard enough to knock her out for the rest of the day. Or maybe her life.
"Are you really contemplating suicide?" she groans to herself, and rubs her eyes.
She nearly jumps straight into the air when another voice chuckles, "I really hope not. I don't think I could live without you, Josie."
Josie keeps her eyes shut, hoping that the voice is just a figment of her imagination and that Bill hadn't just walked in and heard her talking to herself. She's almost beginning to believe it when the edge of the mattress sinks down and she feels his fingers curl around her wrist to tug it away from her face. His eyes are slightly creased with worry as he looks down at her.
"I've got a hangover potion for you," he says quietly, lifting a vial of dark brown sludge and raising his eyebrows at her.
Josie just closes her eyes again and mumbles, "I don't want it."
Bill sighs. "I know you don't like the taste, but do you really want to be hungover when Wright inevitably badgers you about yesterday's meeting?"
A low groan escapes her at the thought, and Bill uncorks the vial and hands it to her. After a moment spent staring unhappily at the brown sludge, Josie sits up and downs it in one gulp. It's impossible not to make a disgusted face at the taste of it. It literally tastes like muddy water and shit, but it works wonders because her headache clears instantly.
She blindly hands the vial back to Bill, and for a moment, it feels like they've gone back in time. Bill sends her a little smile and lays his hand on her blanket-covered leg, giving it a comforting squeeze, and Josie smiles back and realizes how much she's missed this. Them. Her and Bill, taking on the world together.
And then reality sets back in, as it is wont to do whenever she remembers that things aren't the same, not any more – that it isn't just her and Bill anymore. If anything, it's Bill and Fleur, and Josie is just sitting on the sidelines wondering if he's forgotten about her.
Her smiles grows a bit strained.
"I should probably take a shower," she mumbles, and just like that, the distance is back, growing with a vengeance as Josie shuffles out of the covers and awkwardly realizes that she's still wearing Bill's jacket from last night, and that her shirt is still hastily pinned together with safety pins and there's a splotch of what she really hopes is not vomit on the lower hem of it.
God, she's a mess.
Bill clears his throat and stands up too. He hesitates for a moment before saying, "Right. You know where everything is. You did help me move in, after all." His smile is a bit strained too, when it's clear that his words aren't summoning the laugh he had been hoping for. Josie just nods his words off and pushes her curly hair out of her face, staring at him blankly. He clears his throat and leaves quickly after that,
Once he disappears, Josie digs around her suitcase for some clean clothes, but everything is damp and has a stale scent wafting from it after being shoved so haphazardly together last evening. More than she's ever been before, Josie is suddenly very grateful that the goblins don't care what she wears to work. They won't look twice at the band t-shirt she grabs from the pile of clothes and as for her black leather jacket, she knows that isn't a problem because she always wears it and has never gotten in trouble for it before. Frankly, she's got other things to concern herself with than her clothing choices. Mainly how she's going to survive breakfast.
A quick glance at the clock tells her that she'll have to get ready in record time unless she wants to be late. Her shower is quick and to the point, despite the fact that she'd very much like to enjoy it a bit more. Merlin only knows when her next long shower will be. She's seen the inside of The Leaky Cauldron's bathrooms and they are not pleasant.
It's as she's pulling her torn shirt off and tossing it onto the bathroom floor that she finally recalls the missing piece of her memory from last night. At first, she's confused when she sees the small scrap of paper flutter out of the breast pocket of the ruined shirt. She stares at it for a moment, raising an eyebrow at the nondescript bit of parchment before leaning down to pluck it off the tiled floor. When she turns it over, she pauses and frowns as small recollections from her drunken state begins to slip between the other memories. When the unassuming Incan coin falls onto the floor as Josie is kicking the shirt out of the way, those memories become a little clearer.
'Tesoros del Viejo Mundo' is printed on the business card in bold font, followed by a street address in finer print. A name follows after, presumably the owner of the shop and the woman that Josie now remembers speaking to at the pub last night. Now that she thinks about it, this woman - Catalina Aceves, according to the card – had said something about being able to help with Josie's curse.
She stares at the business card for another long moment, leaning against the sink as she tries to remember exactly what the witch had said. Something about being of Inca descent and knowing how to use her ancestral magic. Josie runs her thumb over the edge of the card and reads the shop name again. Spending so much of her time in South America has made her somewhat fluent in the Spanish language, to the point where she can understand much of what is said and can usually hold her own in conversations.
'Treasures of the Old World' is the translation of the shop. Catalina seems to have a curiosity for Incan gold, if her interest in the coin last night had been any indication. It could just be a professional recreation, but the fact that the shop is located in Knockturn Alley gives Josie a reason to be wary. Nothing good ever comes out of that foul place, especially these days. With Voldemort on the rise, Knockturn Alley is even more dangerous than it used to be.
She wishes she had more time to think on this before breakfast, but unfortunately she's already going to be cutting it close as it is, so she tucks the business card and the coin away to think on later. Her wand seems to be working properly this morning, so after a quick shower, she magics her suitcase to a smaller size again before slipping it back into her pocket. She doesn't want to have to return to Bill's flat after work to collect her things if she can help it, so she makes sure to gather up all of her belongings before she leaves the room.
When she walks into the kitchen fifteen minutes later, her frizzy hair has been wrangled into a low ponytail and she's carrying her little houseplant, Marcia, with her. Bill is leaning against the counter with a half-finished cup of tea and The Daily Prophet in his hand. He's dressed in his usual work clothes – er, well, his version of them, anyway. Charcoal grey trousers, a plum colored button-up rolled up to the elbows with a vest on top of that, and his usual dragon-hide boots. His hair has been pulled back into a low ponytail, showing off the fang earring that he wears in his left ear. He glances up at her as she appears and nods to the plate of breakfast that's waiting for her. It looks like he already ate.
"You know," he says as she wordlessly digs in, "I've been thinking…"
Uh oh. It's never a good sign when Bill Weasley starts a sentence with those words. She's learned that the hard way over the many years of their friendship. He's not half as mischievous as his twin brothers (bless them), but he definitely has an impetuous streak in his character. The fang earring and long hair is testament enough to that. He might've been Head Boy back at Hogwarts, but he's been known to get her into trouble when she least expects it. She glances up at him, mouth full of omelet, only to find that he's watching her closely.
Slowly, as if he knows she isn't going to appreciate the offer, Bill continues, "I've got a spare room – "
"No," Josie cuts in, shutting it down immediately. She shoves a piece of bacon into her mouth and sends him a sharp look, because she knows that he isn't going to drop it that easily. He's far too stubborn for that – something she had also learned the hard way over the years.
As expected, Bill sends her an exasperated look and says, "You've got nowhere to go, Josie. Be smart about this."
She purses her mouth, lips forming a tight line, and pushes her breakfast away. "No, Bill," she says again, hoping that he'll take the hint.
He doesn't, of course, and just crosses his arms. His eyes narrow too, staring at her challengingly. The blue in them seem sharper than they were moments before.
"We're best friends, Josie. Why is this such a big deal?" he demands.
Josie clenches her teeth and says, "You're with Fleur, Bill. I can't just move into your flat. It's – I just – I don't want to get in the middle of that."
Merlin only knows.
Bill pauses at this and runs a hand through his hair, messing up the ponytail a bit as he does. "She and I already talked about moving in together. She likes having her own place here in England. Besides, mum had a fit when I brought it up, so it would just be you and me."
He looks a bit uncomfortable when he says it, probably because he isn't used to talking about his relationship with Fleur in front of Josie. Despite being best friends, or ex-best friends if you ask her, they've never really spoken about his relationship with Fleur. From the moment he had gotten together with the French witch, Josie has taken to making herself scarce around him. She already has to watch them be together; she doesn't think she'd be able to survive hearing Bill sing her praises all the time.
"Yeah, but I'm sure she'll still come over sometimes, and you'll want your space when she does," Josie responds, and stands up.
Bill frowns. "Just stay until you find a place, then. You're always welcome here, Jos. It feels like I hardly ever see you anymore, and when I do you're always busy or in one of your moods – "
"One of my moods?" Josie repeats, narrowing her eyes at him. Is that what he's been thinking all this time? That she's just been dealing with some sort of mood swing and just so happens to end up taking it out on him? Merlin, Bill can be really blind sometimes. It's like that time when they were in their seventh year and Brigit Ainsworth had a crush on him. The girl had been so ridiculously obvious about it, but Bill hadn't realized until Josie had sat him down and informed him that when a girl gives you love potion spiked chocolates for Valentine's Day, she wants you. Bill is so blind that he hadn't believed her until Brigit had stalked him during one of his Head Boy patrols and tried to pull him behind a tapestry to snog him.
Anyhow - she's not sure if she's relieved that he doesn't seem to realize that she's been avoiding him, or annoyed about it. Honestly, how dense can someone be? Does he really not realize that she isn't actually as busy as she always says she is? That she doesn't want to go out to lunch with him and Fleur and be the third wheel? That she doesn't want to talk to him, because then she'd end up roped into a conversation about how perfect Fleur is and how he's never met a girl like her before?
Bill sighs at her. "Look, I just feel like we've been drawing apart lately and I don't like it. You're my best friend, Josie. You mean the world to me."
She tries to ignore the familiar hollow pang of her heart when he says this. You'd think she'd be used to it by now – that she'd be able to handle his unintentional rejections a little better – but it still hurts just as much as it always has. She doesn't want to just be his best friend, and she's been struggling to reconcile this for years.
"I've missed you lately," Bill tells her softly, trying to catch her eye.
Those who have never been in love with their best friend wouldn't understand the pain that cinches around her heart as Josie stands there in the middle of Bill's kitchen and listens to his soft, endearing words. It is like you are a piece of driftwood floating on the sea. There is nothing to do but float, even when you want to sink to the bottommost corner of the ocean and fade away. You're trapped on the surface a thousand miles out, frantically searching for land so that you can lay down your body and surrender at last. It's a dream, though, because you can't ever surrender. Land will never be found, and you'll only ever be a piece of driftwood that floats to and fro until it vanishes from human recollection.
She smiles at the countertop, trying to bolster up the courage it takes to raise her eyes and look at him directly. It requires such an incredible amount that it leaves her breathless with exhaustion. When she finally does manage it, she feels as if she's been stripped of everything that she is; fragmented into a million isolated pieces.
"I've missed you too," she admits. It feels like strange to say it out loud when she's been consumed by the thought for ages now, even before Fleur came along – ever since Bill had decided to move to Egypt for those two long years, and his absence had become the first blow to their friendship.
They stare at each other for a long moment. Bill seems quietly confused, as if he isn't quite sure why her words feel so weighed down with meaning. He looks like he's trying to find the answer to every question he's ever had. Maybe he is.
Gone are the days of their playful childhood friendship. Of summers spent at the Burrow under the golden rays of youth. Of whispered conversations had in the privacy of Bill's room, when he'd tell her of his dreams and aspirations and she'd tell him hers. Of the lighthearted teenage moments where he'd hold her hand and drag her across Hogwarts, laughing about something or another and enjoying life.
She wonders what he'd say if he knew that she's been in love with him since fifth year, when she had looked at his laughing countenance one day and had realized how incredibly handsome he was. The thought had just hit her out of the blue, then, that if she was ever to marry someone, she'd want it to be him.
The clock on the wall suddenly chimes, drawing them both out of their stupor and reminding them that they really need to get to work. Josie breaks the stare first, startled back to reality as her eyes dart to the time. It's 9 o'clock and if they don't leave right now, they're going to be late. She swallows tightly and turns on her heel, striding to fireplace without another word. She doesn't look back when she takes a handful of floo powder and announces, 'Gringotts', but she can feel his eyes burning into her back as she disappears, perhaps wondering why it seems as if she's running away from him again.
These days, Josie has a bad habit of doing exactly that, but she'll never tell Bill the reason for it. He's no longer hers, after all. Maybe he never really was.
Upon arriving in her office, Josie finds that putting the events of the morning aside is easier than she expects. Artie comes around to give her a couple of folders on several Aztec temples that he wants her to look into. Thankfully, when she flicks through them after he leaves, she discovers that they are firmly set in her area of expertise. Bill and the rest of his team can handle the Egyptian cases; she's much happier to delve into South America. Or, as Wright would say, to 'take a lighthearted jaunt through the fucking rainforest, Devonport'.
What an arse. Honestly, he says that she wouldn't last a day on his team, but she'd like to see him trying to 'traipse' through the rainforest. Sure, Egypt has its scorpions and the occasional Sphinx, but the Amazon has its own dangers. She'd heard from one of the bankers on the second floor that Wright is deathly afraid of snakes. Josie would pay to see his reaction to a fully grown anaconda – and that isn't even mentioning the poisonous frogs and spiders, or the occasional magical Capybara. Honestly, she doesn't know where Wright got the idea that the South American curse-breaker division isn't as tough as his own. She doubts he'd last a day on her team, especially if he can't handle a fucking snake.
Josie scoffs beneath her breath and mutters, "Tosser," as she reaches over for her quill. Artie told her to take her time on these assignments, since they aren't as pressing as the current case she's working on. He also knows, though, that once she starts researching a certain temple, it completely consumes her and she usually gets the work done pretty quickly. Her passion is no doubt what has propelled her through the ranks of the South American division. Artie's told her several times now that she's due to receive a promotion, but she knows that she wouldn't be able to go out into the field as often as she does in her current position, and she doesn't think she'd enjoy her job half as much if she couldn't get out of this office every couple of months.
Her trips to South America are something she's constantly looking forward to. Even now, as she delves into her Aztec research, she can almost feel the hot Mexican sun dancing over her skin and the pleasant tones of Spanish lilting from the mouths of her teammates.
Despite everything, she finds that she's in a lovely mood come lunchtime. The memories of yesterday seem far away now that she's once more entrenched in her work. By the time she grabs her purse and makes her way to the lobby of the bank, she's even got a skip in her step. She's in the middle of considering where she'll go for lunch when her good mood takes a plummet.
Thankfully, her bad luck seems to have eased off a bit today, giving her a break after the fiasco of yesterday. That doesn't mean she's in the clear, though. These days, it's only a matter of time before her curse crops up again in one form or another, and while she wouldn't necessarily consider this to be a result of her curse, it certainly seems to stress her out enough to manifest a painful kink in her neck that hadn't been there a moment before.
The reason for this is, of course, because the moment she steps foot into the lobby of Gringotts, she steps right into the middle of a congratulatory fest.
"When's the wedding, Weasley?" she hears one of her coworkers ask, and glances to the side to see a group of curse-breakers from the Egyptian division surrounding Bill and Fleur, who look like they're off to lunch as well. She slows her pace without meaning to, watching Fleur's arm settle around Bill's waist. From Josie's position slightly behind them, she can easily make out the simple but lovely engagement band that sits on Fleur's finger.
"You two look great together. I was so happy to hear about your engagement," one of the secretaries from the banking department gushes, smiling broadly.
Josie's heart drops as she watches Bill circle his arm around Fleur's shoulders. He thanks the secretary and goes on to say something about the proposal, but Josie doesn't hear because she's too busy thinking about the fact that they do look good together. They look like they were meant to be.
She suddenly isn't very hungry anymore. Her good mood cracks like the edges of a broken mirror, and she feels at once sick to her stomach. Her heart seems to tremble in her chest, swept up in every fluctuation of the distant and wrenching song that it's been whispering for years.
Josie clenches down around the strap of her purse and takes a deep breath. She's receiving a few strange glances from passersby, probably wondering why she's just standing there in the middle of the lobby. Moving seems tremendously difficult all of the sudden. It's as if her feet have frozen to the floor, and it isn't until she gets shouldered into by a passing goblin that she remembers how to move.
"Don't just stand there," the goblin gruffly tells her, sending her an impatient look. Even though he has to physically tilt his head up to address her, Josie gets the distinct impression that he's looking down on her.
She clears her throat and mumbles, "Right," as she continues on her way, still clutching her purse with tight fingers. She walks right past Bill and Fleur as if she doesn't even see them, keeping her eyes straight ahead in an almost militaristic manner, as if she's marching off of a battlefield after a crushing defeat but is too prideful to admit it. She thinks she sees Bill swing his head towards her as she passes, but she dares not break rank.
The sky seems to embody her now foul mood when she steps out into the Alley and hurries down the stone stairs of Gringotts. It's dark and grey, still churning with rainclouds from the night before; perfectly dismal. She pops into the first café she sees and orders a bagel and some tea. She's feeling so depressed that she doesn't even bother adding cream or sugar and just drinks it straight, as if hoping that the bitter taste will somehow counteract her bitter mood.
It doesn't. By the time she's done lifelessly picking apart her bagel and listening to the café workers drone on about their troubles, Josie feels even more bitter than she had when she first stepped inside.
She returns to her office only halfway through her lunch break. Her neck and shoulders are so sore that she can hardly move, there's a bruise forming on the inside of her arm that hadn't been there an hour ago, and she twists her ankle while she's getting off of the lift. She ends up hobbling down the hall to where her office is located, feeling like a broken toy that's stopped working correctly.
Fuck, it's bad. Yesterday, her bad luck seemed intent on getting the best of her; today, the curse seems more interested in manifesting on a physical level. She nearly collapses onto the couch across from her desk and even goes as far as to lay down for a few minutes despite the fact that she's got a ton of work to do before the end of the day – and has to figure out where she's sleeping tonight, and go downstairs to have one of the goblins take her to her vault. She'll need money to bribe Tom for a room.
When all of these things first started happening, Josie was convinced that she was just imagining it. After all, sometimes you just have bad days. Sometimes you end up accidentally dropping things and tearing your shirt and spilling scorching tea into your best friend/man-you're-desperately-love-with's lap. It happens, right? Life sometimes likes to throw curveballs at you to keep you on your feet.
But then the bloody noses started happening, and the constant sore muscles, and the cuts and scratches and bruises that just appear out of nowhere with no explanation. When she first coughed up blood a few months back, she'd been so scared that she finally forced herself to visit St. Mungo's, afraid that she was dying from some unknown disease she had picked up on her travels. But test after test had come back negative. The doctors had no idea what was wrong with her. There wasn't a reasonable explanation. She was an anomaly.
That was back when she was still going through the paperwork on her last trip to Peru. There's always more paperwork to file after an expedition. Curses have to be recorded, the trip has to be fully documented; expenses spent and treasure appropriated. It was during this process that she remembered the inscription above the treasury room's large doors, deep within Sami Manqus temple in the Andes Mountains, and she knew that there was a reason for her bad luck and her illnesses after all. It just wasn't something that could be treated by the doctors at St. Mungo's.
With a sigh, Josie rolls her shoulders and grimaces when her neck makes a sharp popping sound. As the day carries on and she goes through her work load, it only gets worse. By four o'clock, she can hardly turn her neck without cringing against the pain. It doesn't help that she's beginning to stress out again about where she'll go tonight. Bill's flat is out of the question. She's already embarrassed herself enough around him, so at half past four, she decides to make it an early night so that she has a little more time to figure out her latest problem. If push comes to shove, she'll just have to sneak back into the bank and sleep on her couch.
After getting permission from Artie to leave a bit early, Josie makes her way back into Diagon Alley and starts walking. With few ideas of where to go, she ends up wandering around, ducking into every living complex that she sees and badgering the landlords until they send her off. Again and again she's told that they don't have any unrented flats at the moment. She's beginning to lose steam by the time she passes the entrance to Knockturn Alley on her way to the next complex, which is probably why she ends up lingering for a moment too long.
One glance into the Alley tells her that it's bustling – far busier than Diagon Alley. It always seems busiest once the sun begins to set and the less savory members of society decide to reappear. From the entrance, Josie sees several darkly cloaked wizards striding purposefully through the dusty street. A vendor nearby is selling shrunken heads, who sneer insults at potential customers as they hang from strings above the cart.
She knows better than to try her luck in Knockturn Alley, or at least she should, but as Josie stands there and peers down the dark street, she sees a sign that stops her from continuing on her way. Just as she's turning away from the Alley, her eyes land upon it and she pauses again, studying the boldly printed letters silently. A bracing wind shudders up the street as she stands there, rippling through her as she considers her course. She reaches into the pocket of her leather jacket and thumbs over the business card that she had tucked within it.
It's probably bad idea, trying her luck with a witch from Knockturn Alley – especially since she only ever seems to have bad luck these days. She shouldn't take the chance. It will probably backfire and make her life even worse than it already is. And yet…
What are the odds that she had encountered a shopkeeper who has Inca blood running through her veins? If what the witch said about her ancestry had been true, wouldn't it be irresponsible not to at least talk to her? It isn't as if she has any other leads right now. She doesn't even know if breaking her curse is possible.
Josie hesitates only as long as it takes to tilt her collar up against the wind, and then, before she can think about it for even a second longer, she turns into Knockturn Alley and hastens towards the shop. Tesoros del Viejo Mundo is quite a ways down the street, tucked between what looks like a magical taxidermy shop and a place selling Divination equipment. She doesn't linger on the street any longer than she has to, uncomfortable with the way she stands out amongst this crowd of ne'er-do-wells. The moment she steps up to the door, she ducks inside as quickly as she can.
It immediately feels as if she's entered another world. The light from the fading sun encapsulates the shop in a way that seems ethereal. Golden and bronze artifacts are on display everywhere she looks. She recognizes a lot of what she sees – knotted quipu, intricate medallions, and what looks like a real Moche ceramic pot that sits on its own pedestal in the corner. Overcome with fascination and feeling quite amazed that a shop like this exists in her corner of the world, Josie steps into the fray, leaning down to examine several golden llamas that were used as offerings to the gods. She even sees a jar that's labeled, 'Genuine Incan Embalming Grease', near a small bowl of rolled up recipes.
The shop isn't just limited to South American cultures, though. Josie sees artifacts from many ancient civilizations spanning the globe: jade pendants from China, clay cylinders from Persia, Egyptian statues and pieces of Greek friezes. She even catches sight of several Native American totem poles along the wall, their faces watching her as she moves about the shop.
It's as she's studying a display of small bronze daggers that a voice suddenly says, "Incan hunting blades."
Josie jumps with a gasp and whirls around, her heart startled into a quick and heavy beat. The witch from yesterday is standing in a doorway that Josie hadn't seen before. It's covered with a tapestry that blends into the rest of the room, appearing as yet another artifact. From the way the witch is holding the tapestry aside as she stands in the threshold, it's difficult to see what image the fabric depicts, but the borders of it have a distinctive Mediterranean likeness.
Once her heart begins to calm down, Josie can't help but blurt, "The Inca weren't big on metallurgy. If these were found in South America, they were probably brought over by the Conquistadors for trading purposes."
The witch's eyebrows jolt up at this. She looks mildly impressed.
"I see you know your Incan history," she drawls, stepping into the room. "Which means you would also know that the Tiwanaku did develop bronze tools, which the Inca could have very well discovered and made use of."
It's Josie's turn to looks mildly impressed.
"You know your history too," she says, but can't help but add, "though since our knowledge of the Tiwanaku civilization is largely unknown, that's only speculation."
The witch doesn't look like she agrees, but she merely tilts her head graciously and lets it lie. There are more important topics to discuss, after all.
"I have to admit that I'm a bit surprised to see you so soon," the woman says.
Now that Josie isn't drunk off her arse with firewhiskey, she sees that the woman is indeed of South American descent – Peruvian, probably, if her claims of having Inca ancestors are to be believed. She's a middle-aged woman who looks to be in her late forties, a bit heavy-set with bronzed skin and long, dark hair that flows over one shoulder. She's dressed in typical wizarding robes of a deep blue color, which looks strangely conservative in the midst of all this color. Her large, kohl-lined eyes blink owlishly at Josie from where she stands, her age-lined face appearing younger in the light of the fading sun.
With a twist of her hand, she motions to the threshold that she had just stepped out of and wonders, "Shall we sit down to discuss your curse? I'm very interested to hear more about it. It isn't every day that I come across someone who's been touched with the maldición del oro, especially so far from home."
Josie's eyebrows raise. She hadn't realized that her curse had a name. She finds it fascinating that a woman like this exists in England, of all places – and just under her nose as well. She'd had no idea that there was a shop selling these sorts of artifacts so close to where she works, and Josie is a bit amazed at how knowledgeable the witch seems to be. She finds herself taking a step towards Catalina Aceves before remembering where she is, and casts a wary glance at the door leading back onto the street. The sun is already setting and she doesn't want to be caught in Knockturn Alley after dark.
Catalina obviously sees her hesitation, and is quick to brush her worries aside. "Perhaps just a cup of tea, and then you'll be on your way before the sun sets."
She blinks owlishly at Josie again, and Josie is filled with a strange feeling that she shouldn't follow the woman into that room. Gut instincts really should be trusted. They often lead you in the right direction and save you from all sorts of eventual turmoil, and usually Josie would heed that feeling. But the thing is, she's been suffering from the ramifications of her curse for months now, and nothing she's tried so far has helped. She's afraid that if she doesn't do something, then the curse will eventually sap her very life from her. It may take years, or even decades, but the writing above the doorway of Sami Manqus had been specific enough to make her feel as though the curse will eventually be fatal unless she does something about it.
It's amazing, what people will do when their lives are in danger; the strength that can be summoned in times of need. If that need is great enough, they will go to the ends of the earth to find a solution. Or, in this case, the end of a small and seemingly unassuming shop.
When Josie ducks into the room, Catalina smiles. It's a soft sort of smile – kind almost – as if she understands Josie's uncertainty. The smile doesn't necessarily make Josie feel any better about her quick decision, but it does put her at ease as she takes a seat at the circular table in the center of the space.
She looks around as Catalina prepares the tea, studying the layout of the room. There are some storage boxes stacked up in one corner, but overall, the place seems like an extension of the main shop. The walls are lined with more artifacts similar to the ones in the main room. She sees golden masks, Grecian pottery, and even a set of iron halberds crossed over at the center, of which could belong to any number of ancient civilization. The thing that really captures her attention, though, is the painting that's hung on the far wall directly across from her, which depicts what looks like a group of Conquistadors falling to their knees in front of a mountain of gold.
"The maldición del oro. It struck them down, too," Catalina says, when she turns around with a tray of tea and sees Josie staring at the painting.
Josie startles a little, for she had been quite swept up in the imagery of the depiction; the greedy expressions on the Conquistadors' faces as they reached for the piles of golden coins. It is a muggle painting, and so it doesn't move, but Josie can clearly imagine them stuffing their pockets with as much of the gold as they could carry.
"Never had the Spaniards seen so much gold as when they saw the Inca treasure," Catalina says as she sets the tray onto the table and sits down across from Josie. She pours the tea into two small ceramic cups and pushes one towards Josie, waiting until Josie lifts it to take a sip before she continues. "Greed consumed them. They forgot their homeland, and their lovers, and their family. They desired the gold beyond all else, and they paid for it with their lives."
Josie inhales, breathing in the scent of foreign spices that wafts up from the tea, and murmurs, "I was told that cursed gold is only a myth."
At this, Catalina raises an eyebrow and says, "And yet here you are, cursed by gold." Her dark hair shines luxurious in the dim light of the room. It suddenly seems to be threaded through with silver. "Last night, you mentioned an inscription, Josie. What did it say?" Catalina asks after a long moment.
The sound of her name makes Josie furrow her brow. She puts the tea down and, wary again, wonders, "How did you know my name?"
Catalina merely lifts an eyebrow and responds, "You told me, at the pub. What did it say?"
Josie can't remember telling the witch her name, but then again, she can't remember not telling her, and just reaches into her purse to gather several pages of her own personal research. She's been looking into the curse for some time now, without much success. Everything she knows can fit onto these few rolls of parchment. Catalina leans forward and drags the paper towards her, tilting her head curiously as she reads the hastily scrawled inscription that Josie had copied down from memory several months ago.
People think that the Inca didn't have a writing system and instead used knotted quipu to send messages across their empire, but this is not necessarily true. The major temples and sanctuaries of their people have been kept hidden from the muggle world for many decades now. The Peruvian Council of Magic ensures that much of that ancient culture remains safely in the hands of their own magical population. This inscription had been written above the doorway to the treasure room, etched into stone by use of the same glyphs that can be found in many other temples across Peru, if you know where to look.
Beware who enter here, for those who live by way of greed will perish.
Catalina nods as if she understands everything perfectly, and leans back.
"It is of course the maldición del oro. The curse of the gold. You passed beneath this inscription?"
Josie nods.
"And you took a coin for yourself?"
Josie pauses and hurriedly says, "We all did, it wasn't greed though, it was for posterity's sake – a keepsake if you will."
Catalina just waves these words away and shakes her head. "You still took a coin, and that is all that matters." She studies Josie's pale, drawn countenance, and says in a more comforting voice, "Worry not, Josephine. I have dealt with the maldición del oro before."
Josie's eyebrows jerk up into her hairline. She swallows thickly and asks, "You have? When?"
Catalina shifts the parchment back to Josie and gestures to the tea in front of her. In lieu of their conversation, Josie has forgotten that it was there. Catalina seems to be waiting for her to take another sip, so Josie quickly does, eager to hear more about her experience in handling the curse of Incan gold.
"I did not always live here in England. I have seen many cases of travelers contracting that curse. In their search for a cure, they would often find their way to me."
Something about her words seem strange, as if there's a piece of her story missing. But at the word 'cure', Josie presses away her doubt and quickly asks, "And is there a cure?"
The smile that curls over Catalina's face makes that gut feeling flare to life again, but before Josie can question it, the witch says, "There is a way to break your curse. It is powerful Incan magic; a ritual passed down through the generations of my family. However, I cannot perform the magic without the coins that were taken."
At this, Josie is quick to reach into her pocket to retrieve the golden coin that she's carried on her person for months now, ever since she realized that it was the reason for her curse. It seemed too precious to leave laying around; too important to overlook.
Before she can locate it, though, Catalina raises a hand and says, "If it were that easy to break your curse, my dear, the maldición del oro would never have claimed the lives of so many." She nods to the tea in front of Josie, and Josie presses down the urge to sigh impatiently as she grabs the cup and takes another sip. Catalina leans back and watches her swallow before saying, "You must retrieve all the coins that were taken by the members of your expedition. The curse has been placed on everyone who took a coin, and only when the ritual is completed and every coin is returned to the temple can the curse be lifted."
Josie places the teacup down a little harder than she means to. In a pinched voice, she repeats, "All of the coins? But – that will take me ages! I'd have to track down everyone on that expedition, and it's been months – they may not even have the coins still."
Catalina lifts her shoulders and responds, "Unfortunately, the ritual will not work without every coin." She blinks at Josie and adds, "If you do not break the curse, you will die a very painful death. The maldición del oro has been known to claim its victims in gruesome ways."
This makes Josie pause. She pushes back a wave of dread and clears her throat. "…Gruesome?" she wonders, not sure if she really wants to know.
Catalina stares at her for a long moment before slowly saying, "I have witnessed the slow decay that lays waste to their bodies and drives them to madness. They lose themselves to their greed until it is all they can think about. They spend their days in listlessness and their nights in agony."
Josie swallows thickly, fingers tight around the small ceramic cup. The tea is nearly gone now, and Catalina's horrific words seem almost sweet in the caressing cadence of her accented voice.
"You must retrieve the coins, or I cannot help you," the witch finishes, staring at Josie with a strange sheen to her eyes.
Josie sits there for a long moment as her words wash over her. The more she thinks on it, the more she can see the logic to what Catalina is saying. You cannot solve a polynomial equation with only one variable, and she was not the only one who took a coin from that temple.
It hadn't been greed that made them do it, but rather a sense of camaraderie; a keepsake to take home with them, after the monumental success of such a difficult job. Incan temples can be difficult to advance through, and that one had been one of the most challenging in Josie's career. It made sense to take a memento. One single coin of Incan gold is worth a lot of money on the black market, but even though Josie hadn't taken hers to get rich, she's a curse-breaker and she knows how these things work. Your intentions, whether good or bad, do not matter.
"Okay then," Josie sighs. "I guess I'll have to start tracking them down."
After all, what else can she do? Unless she wants to be driven mad and have her body deteriorate until she can no longer function, she will need to retrieve the other coins.
Catalina nods, looking pleased. "You'd best get started soon, then. The maldición del oro works differently for everyone, but I can already tell that it has spread rapidly within you."
This makes Josie sit up straighter. Her heart clenches with fear. She grips the teacup even harder as Catalina gives her a knowing look.
"You feel the effects often? The bruises, the cuts…" she glances down at Josie's hand, where the bruise on her inner arm has begun to advance towards her wrist. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, Josie tugs her sleeve down to cover it, but Catalina just wonders, "What else have you experienced?"
"…Muscle pains, headaches…bloody noses," Josie murmurs, then scoffs out a humorless laugh and adds, "incredibly bad luck."
Catalina nods slowly and responds, "Yes, these are all symptoms. It will only continue to worsen." She pauses then, glancing down at her own teacup and delicately drawing her finger around the rim of it. In that knowing tone, she murmurs, "The man you love. Another symptom."
Josie jerks her head up to stare at Catalina in unnerved surprise, and Catalina lifts her eyes, staring back at Josie with an indecipherable gleam in her eyes.
"The curse pushes people away. I am not surprised that this man has rejected you. Some part of him can no doubt feel it festering within you. It has…a strange effect on others. It makes you feel as if you are the loneliest person alive."
A wave of angry grief washes through Josie at these words. It isn't because she's mad that Catalina had said them, but rather because it's true. She does feel like the loneliest person alive. She feels as if no one cares for her anymore. It's silly though, because she's the one who decided to distance herself from Bill. She's the one who stopped responding to Ginny's letters and set the Weasleys aside. She cut off communication from her parents and friends. She is only lonely because she pushed everyone away.
But then again –
Bill hadn't even noticed that she was trying to distance herself from him. Ginny hadn't bothered sending any more letters. Her parents and friends didn't even question why she stopped communicating with them.
Maybe it is the curse. She was the one who pushed them away, but maybe the curse is the reason why they allowed it.
Feeling incredibly bewildered by all of this information, Josie sits back and stares sightlessly at the painting of the Conquistadors. Their eyes gleam with madness even now.
She's only drawn back to the present when Catalina stands up and steps over to the counter where she had prepared the tea. Josie looks over at her as she riffles through the cabinet, searching for something. As she kneels down and pulls out a wooden box that contains about a dozen small vials, she says, "I can give you something for the physical pain of the curse."
When she hears this, Josie sits up and smiles gratefully. "What is it?" she asks once Catalina has plucked out one of the vials and set it down onto the table in front of her. It's a tiny thing, with a dropper lid. The potion is a very light blue, so much so that in a certain light, it appears clear.
"Moondew Essence," Catalina responds. "It's a pain reliever." She pauses looking at Josie closely before asking, "Have you heard of it?"
Josie hums and lifts the vial. "No…but then again, I was never a very good Potions student." She grimaces out a smile, recalling all too clearly Snape's incredible wariness whenever she would hand in her samples. It was as if he thought they would explode the moment he touched them. Honestly, it only happened the one time. There was no need for him to be so leery.
Catalina hums and gestures for her to take it, so Josie begins to slip it into her pocket. At the last moment, though, she pauses and furrows her brow as she asks, "How much?"
After all, nothing is ever free, especially around these parts.
But Catalina merely waves the words away and responds, "Consider it a gesture of good faith. We are partners now, yes?"
The way she eyes Josie in an almost doubtful fashion has Josie nodding quickly. For some reason, she feels the need to promptly assuage any mistrust that Catalina may have concerning the deal that they've struck. Though, now that Josie is thinking about it, they haven't actually talked about what Catalina would be getting in return.
As she slips the vial into her pocket, Josie broaches the subject. She doesn't want to agree to something before she knows exactly what she's getting into. She might be a Gryffindor, but she's not always reckless – and this is Knockturn Alley, after all.
"I don't see how you'd get anything from helping me," Josie carefully begins, not wanting to cause insult. "You never mentioned payment for the ritual."
Catalina pauses in the middle of picking up the teacups. Again, that strange gleam captures her eyes, but her words are very lighthearted when she says, "I have a…fascination with anything to do with my ancestors. I am happy to help. Payment is not required."
This ought to feel strange, considering that Catalina Aceves is a Knockturn Alley shopkeeper, but for some reason, Josie doesn't linger on it and merely smiles widely at her in appreciation. "That's very kind of you," she says. When she stands up from her chair, she feels oddly sluggish.
Catalina just smiles. "Two drops of Moondew should be enough. Come to me when you run out, with coin. I'm happy to be of service with the curse itself, but I'm afraid Moondew Essence can be pricy."
Right. That makes perfect sense. She's being awfully considerate of Josie's situation, really, especially since she's not asking her to pay for the first vial.
"I will," Josie responds, and lingers a moment longer by the chair. She casts one more glance at the painting of the Conquistadors before clearing her throat and saying, "I should probably be going."
Catalina hums in agreement. She gestures to the doorway that leads into the main room of the shop. As she follows Josie past the golden artifacts that gleam brilliantly in the quiet light, she says, "Send word when you collect the rest of the coins, and I will prepare the ritual."
Josie nods, and opens the door. She pauses in the threshold for a moment, and feels a bolt of confusion shudder through her as she realizes that the sun has long set. Had she really spent so much time in Catalina's shop?
"…Is everything alright, Josephine?" the witch wonders from behind her. The question makes Josie snap out of her daze and step into the wind.
"Everything's fine," she responds, but the door is already closing and the ambient light of the shop is instantly replaced by uninviting darkness of Knockturn Alley.
Josie shivers and pulls her jacket tighter around her frame, patting the pocket of it to make sure that the vial is still there. As she ducks her head and steps into the street, the taxidermy animals in the shop next door blink at her, watching her every move. It's so unnerving that Josie picks up her pace, keeping her eyes trained on the entrance to Diagon Alley some distance ahead. Darkly hooded figures hasten about the street, conducting whatever questionable business they have. She doesn't breathe easy until she reaches the entrance to Diagon Alley, where the air seems inexplicably lighter and the wind less chilled.
Her trip into Knockturn Alley had taken far longer than she'd anticipated. A glance at the muggle watch on her wrist – a gift from her father – tells her that she'd been in Catalina's shop for nearly an entire hour. She can hardly believe that the time had passed so quickly.
It's a bit difficult to think about what she needs to do. It's far too late to conduct any more flat-hunting, and there's no way she'd be able to sneak back into her office now that the rest of the workers have left for the day. Gringotts has some of the highest security in the country, full of goblin-magic and other spells that prohibit the common thief from getting inside. She's effectively on her own, now, which is a rather frightening thought.
As she stuffs her hands into her pockets and ducks her head against the bracing wind that tunnels through the Alley, Josie wracks her brain for places to go. She supposes that if Tom still doesn't have a room, she could always apparate to Hogsmeade and see if Rosmerta has a vacancy. The older woman had grown a bit of a soft spot for her after she'd helped Bill break up a fight during one of their weekend Hogsmeade trips back in sixth year. She'd accidentally jumped in front of a mean right-hook from a seventh-year Slytherin and had received a nasty broken nose for it. Rosmerta had been singing her praises for the rest of the day and had plied her with free butterbeer, even though Josie hadn't actually done all that much. Still, she had worn her injuries as badges of honor and Bill couldn't stop talking about her reckless fortitude for days afterwards, despite his initial concern. She always did have a bit of a backbone – too much of one, sometimes, as Bill used to say.
She's just taking her first step down the street, wondering why she's feeling so numb to the panic that should be encroaching in on her, when a voice calls her name and she lets out an impatient sigh.
"What are you doing here, Bill?" she wonders when he falls into step beside her. She feels his eyes on the side of her face, but she doesn't turn to look at him and just keeps walking. Honestly, doesn't he have other things to do than roam around the Alley at night? He's got a gorgeous fiancée, after all. Shouldn't they be out having a good time?
"I was worried when you never came home," Bill informs her, glancing over his shoulder at the entrance of Knockturn Alley, where he had seen her step out of. Apparently, he was right to be worried. He can't imagine why she thought it was a good idea to go there, especially at this hour.
Josie rolls her eyes. "I told you this morning, Bill – "
"Yes, I know what you said," he interrupts, and reaches over to catch her shoulder and pull her to a stop. She spins around in annoyance, her face set into a challenging expression, and waits. Thankfully, she doesn't have to wait very long before he purses his mouth and murmurs, "Please tell me you weren't flat-hunting in Knockturn Alley, Jos. I've got a perfectly good spare room and Fleur doesn't mind you crashing with me until you get back on your feet. I talked to her about it during lunch today."
For some reason, Josie feels inexplicably angry that he talked to Fleur about her situation. Well – actually, she knows exactly why she's angry: it's because Fleur would never get kicked out of her flat. If anything, the landlord would have begged for her to stay, because everyone loves Fleur Delacour. Jealousy crowds through Josie's chest. Of course Fleur wouldn't mind if she stayed with Bill. Josie is just Bill's best friend. Everyone knows that Bill doesn't see her as a woman, so why would Fleur have a problem with it?
Jealousy is a terrible monster, really. It has a most peculiar effect on people – the power to shift your line of sight just enough and make you believe that you're seeing things as they truly are. You're not, of course, but you don't realize it. When jealousy digs its claws into you, you say things that you don't mean, and do things that you know you shouldn't, but you say and do them anyway because you just can't help yourself.
That's probably why Josie mutters, "Well if Fleur Delacour thinks it's okay, then I suppose it must be. She obviously knows what's best for everyone."
It's just a murmur that the wind tries to carry off, but Bill hears it. He hears it and he immediately frowns, and Josie knows from the way his eyes crease at the edges that he's not happy. She's seen that expression on his face enough times in her life – and most especially in the last few months – to recognize it instantly.
"That was uncalled for," Bill tells her, his mouth still drawn down.
Jealousy and pride – the two things that Josie struggles with the most, these days – well up inside her.
"Was it?" she asks, and shrugs his hand off her shoulder. She starts walking again, half expecting him to let her go. But he doesn't, because he's got a heart too loyal for his own good, even though his best friend has been actively trying to trample it for months now.
"Josie," he calls, and catches up.
She doesn't stop, though a piece of her wants to. That's always the conundrum, isn't it? One part of her wants to run away from him – to run to the ends of the earth if she has to, just to get away, because being near him hurts so damn much that it's difficult to breathe around him. The other part wants to sink into him, to hold on so tightly that he will never leave her. Knowing that he only sees her as a friend hadn't been so terrible before he started seeing Fleur.
"Josie, come on. Stop," he says, and – damn him – his voice is just soft enough to make her heart shake into submission. God, he could ask her to do anything and she'd do it. That's exactly why being in love with him is so scary.
She sighs and stops and waits, just as she's been doing for nearly ten years. Waiting for Bill. Waiting for the one thing she knows she'll never get.
"Just tell me you're not going to get a place in Knockturn Alley," he sighs, sounding genuinely concerned. "It's dangerous."
She studies the concern in his eyes silently and sighs. Bill is never not concerned for her. He was worried when she applied to Gringotts with him, worried when she headed off to Peru on her first assignment as a curse-breaker, and now he's worried about her living situation. He can't bring himself not to worry. It's part of why she loves him so much. He's always looked after her, and there was once a time when she thought that maybe it was because he loved her, too. Now she knows that it's only because he sees her as a younger sister. A best friend. He does love her, but not in the way she wants.
Swallowing back a bitter crush of heartache, Josie tells him, "I'm not flat-hunting in Knockturn Alley, Bill, so you can go home and rest easy, now."
But – damn him – he doesn't go home. Instead he just keeps following her down the street, slipping back into step with her as if he hadn't heard her obvious brush-off at all.
"You know Tom won't have any rooms," he says. "It's nearly summer. Busy season."
Josie ignores him.
"I doubt Rosmerta will, either, what with parents wanting to be in Hogsmeade for graduation," he adds.
Damn him for knowing her so well. She scowls.
"What will you do when they both tell you that?" he asks, sounding unconcerned with her continued silence.
Josie glowers at his profile, grits her teeth, and impatiently fires, "I don't know, William. Maybe I'll go flash my knickers on a street corner. I'm sure there's some man out there who would want me."
This is, apparently, not the right thing to say. Besides her annoyed use of his full name, her words seem to draw forth some sort of over-protective brotherly disdain from him, and he's quick to turn his head and stare at her in unamused perplexity.
"Don't say that," he gruffly tells her, seemingly a little put-off. He slings an arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his side, and for a moment she'd like to sink into him and hold on tightly. Then with a soft exhalation, he says, "Any man would want you, Josie. You're perfect."
And that's when she remembers why she wants to run away from him, to the ends of the earth if she has to, because the pain that sears through her chest in that moment nearly staggers her. After all, if she's so perfect, why doesn't he want her?
She bites down hard on her tongue and doesn't respond, because she's afraid that she might say something stupid, and so she just says nothing at all. That's okay, though, because Bill has enough words for them both.
"If Tom doesn't have a room, you're coming back to my place. I'm not going to let you sleep in an alleyway tonight." Bill pulls her in closer and sighs, "Honestly, Jos. I love you, you know?"
Josie just swallows tightly and ducks her head, still biting her tongue.
Tom doesn't have a room. He's already shaking his head before Josie even reaches the counter. It doesn't stop her from asking, of course, just in case, but apparently her womanly wiles still aren't working.
"Tom, fancy seeing you here again," Josie laughs. It sounds slightly stilted, probably because the proprietor is giving her an exasperated look. Bill sidles up to the counter beside her and waits for the inevitable, which rather annoys her. Over his shoulder, she jerks her thumb at Bill and gives Tom a pleading look, but apparently her message gets lost in translation because Tom just blinks at her in confusion. Damn.
"Look," she begins, a bit exasperated herself. She tries to silently tell Tom that she really needs a room, because otherwise Bill is going to insist that she stay with him and she just can't do that, because she's in love with him and living with your best friend who you're in love with when they're in love with someone else is generally not recommended – but Bill ends up turning his head as she's trying to mime all of this out and Josie has to stop halfway through. It's probably just as well, seeing as Tom is now wearing an expression of supreme bewilderment.
"Sorry, love," Tom shrugs, looking between her and Bill with a raised eyebrow. "Nuthin' I can do for you."
Josie grits her teeth. She bets he'd give Fleur a room, if she asked. Hell, he'd probably give her his, and then offer to sleep behind the counter.
Bill looks frustratingly happy with this news. He sends Tom a pleasant smile and loops an arm around Josie's shoulders. "Right, thanks, Tom," he says, and begins to drag her off.
Josie wrangles out of his hold just long enough to insistently ask, "Do you know if – "
"Doubt it," Tom cuts in, apparently knowing what she's about to ask. He eyes the arm the Bill promptly slings back around her shoulders and mutters, "Rosie's probably booked up for the next month, at least. Hogwarts graduation an' all."
Fuck. Josie scowls.
At the end of her leash and annoyed that Bill is trying to pull her away again, she blurts out, "Well then which street corner would you say is the busiest?"
Unfortunately (or not), Tom doesn't get a chance to answer this inquiry. His eyebrows furrow in confusion and he opens his mouth to likely demand why she's asking a question like that. Before he can, though, Bill rolls his eyes and dryly says, "Goodnight, Tom. Come on, Josie."
She grumbles, trying to elbow him away from her. She's frankly too exhausted to try making a run for it, but the thought does cross her mind as she forlornly steps back onto the street with Bill on her heels.
"I don't know why you're being so stubborn about this," he comments as he follows Josie down the street. His flat is on the other end of the Alley, closer to where Gringotts is located. She's hoping that walking there might give her more time to think of an excuse – or, if nothing else, to mentally prepare herself. Last night excluded, she hasn't actually been alone with him for ages, minus the brief conversations they have at work.
"You're engaged," she reminds him, but it's clear that she's the only one who understands the significance of this. After all, why would his being engaged be a solid reason for her not to crash at his flat until she gets back on her feet? She's his best friend. He'd make the same offer to anyone in need, because he's Bill and he's a wonderfully generous man.
Looking perplexed, he shrugs, "Yeah…? I told you that Fleur is okay with it."
His continued insistence that his fiancée has no problem with Josie being around him – alone, in his flat, for hours at a time – is most definitely not helping her cause.
"It's the – the principle of it, though!" she exclaims, clearly frustrated now and letting it leak out into her voice. She whirls around to face him and the action is so sudden that he nearly runs right into her. "I mean, what would people think if they knew that you had another woman staying with you, and she wasn't your fiancée?"
She should have just kept her silence. At least then, she wouldn't have to watch his face break out into an amused grin, and her heart wouldn't have to experience the painful crush of hearing him chuckle, "Oh come on, Josie. Everyone knows you're my best friend. It is possible for a man and a woman to have a platonic relationship, you know."
Her cheeks flush at this, though she's not sure what emotion is the cause. It could be any number of feelings: annoyance that he's so quick to brush her words aside, pain to hear him come out and say it like that, embarrassment in that there's nothing platonic in the way she feels about him.
Bill's amused grin fades slightly at seeing her all flustered, but he looks none the wiser as to the reasons why. When he reaches out to steer her down the street once more, she falters a bit at the move, half-tempted to plant her feet and refuse to walk entirely. Until, of course, Bill murmurs, "Stop being stubborn and let me take care of you. That's what friends are for."
Right. That's what friends are for.
Friends are supposed to look out for each other. They're supposed to want to help you when you're in a bad spot; to give you some semblance of support, even if it's just to crack open a bottle of firewhiskey and listen to you moan about your problems. In fact, even considering the recent developments of the past eight months, Josie is quite sure that she would be doing the exact same thing for him if their situations were reversed. Well, if he was kicked out of his flat, then he'd probably just move in with his fiancée or head back to the Burrow, but still. The sentiment remains the same. She wouldn't even hesitate to offer him a place to stay if he needed it, which is no doubt why he's so confused at her obstinance.
Can she really be blamed for it, though? Having him take care of her is painful for her. She wants so much more than just a shoulder to cry on. She wants his every layer and every piece. She wants to hold each segment of his heart and know that he is giving it to her because he loves her. That he isn't fueled by the love of friendship but by the love of a partner.
But love isn't something you can take. It's not something that can be manipulated, or possessed. Love it a flighty creature that soars beyond the realm of human conception. Trying to understand it is futile; to capture it is impossible. Love is impervious to selfishness. When it feels that it is being conquered, it merely soars away as quickly as it had come. She wishes it would leave forever, sometimes, but then she catches sight of the way Bill's eyes shine when he's happy, and she can't help but fall into the familiar warmth of his company again and again.
"What do you want for dinner?" he asks when they finally traipse into his flat about ten minutes later. He collapses onto his couch to work at the laces of his dragon-hide boots, not noticing the uncomfortable way Josie lingers in the hallway by the door. She stuffs her hands into her pockets and rocks on her heels awkwardly.
"Not really hungry," she mutters, just as her stomach betrays her with a low growl.
Bill's face relaxes into a grin. "That's not what it sounds like," he jokes, and she can't help herself from smiling in amusement for a moment, before her smile fades.
Whether he notices her discomfort or not, Bill doesn't remark on it. Instead, he merely leans back on the couch, abandoning his laces for a moment to just look at her. His arms lock behind his head, casually supporting his neck as he stretches his legs out. He is the picture of carefree nonchalance as he nods to the space beside him and says, "Sit with me for a while? I wanted to ask you something."
Once, Josie wouldn't have hesitated to throw herself onto the couch and curl up next to him. He would have slung his arm around her waist and dragged her into his side. They would have fallen into the warmth of their friendship just as easily as breathing. Now, Josie just cautiously takes a seat at his side and, though his arm falls onto the back of the couch behind her head, he seems to feel that she needs to keep her distance and he doesn't drag her into him.
Bill is quiet for a moment, as if he's considering his words. "I know it isn't…traditional, I guess? But," he turns to her, shifting his knee so that his body is angled towards hers, "we've been best friends for ages now. You know everything about me. Hell, you even asked Delilah Brooks to the dance for me back in sixth year, remember?"
Josie lets out a strangled laugh at this reminder. She remembers that all too well. She'd been waiting for Bill to ask her, since they usually went to those sorts of things together. When he had pulled her aside after one of their classes, she'd thought that he was going to – until he started gushing about how Delilah was giving him loaded glances all week. Apparently when it comes to girls that Bill is actually interested in, he isn't quite as blind, because instead of asking Josie to the dance, he had said, 'would you be the best friend a guy could ask for and ask Delilah if she's going with anyone yet?'
Josie's heart softly rattles, but she presses away the pain and just laughs again. "Please. Every girl wanted you, Billy. She would've been mad to turn you down."
The use of his nickname slips out without intention. He grins down at her upon hearing it. She rarely calls him that anymore, and it seems to bolster him somehow.
"My point is that there's no one else that I'd want to stand next to on the alter," Bill tells her, and – Merlin – for a split second she has this ridiculous, insane thought that he means he'd like to stand next to her as her husband, but then –
"You'll be my Best Man, won't you, Josie?" he asks hopefully, still smiling that warm smile. The one that she could never say no to. The one she fell in love with.
A brief silence falls between them as Bill waits expectantly for her answer, and Josie sits very still and tries to keep her smile firmly in place. It's hard. It shakes and trembles alongside the beat of her heart. She hadn't realized it could break even more than it already has, but here it is, fragmenting into yet another piece.
"Of course," she breathes around the pain. "Of course, Billy."
What are friends for?
He grins and leans closer to wrap his arms around her, finally dragging her into his side just like he's always done. Then, laughing, he turns his head to press a thankful kiss to her temple, and she closes her eyes as her heart trips around the pain.
"I can't wait," he eagerly tells her, then pulls back to raise an eyebrow and demand, "You won't embarrass me in the speech, will you?"
It is impossible to put into words the excruciating strength that it takes for her to keep smiling.
He chuckles and pulls her back into his embrace, and she – God, she's a piece of driftwood again, and she's floating in the middle of the ocean. Only this time, she's found land, and it's warm and real as she leans against it. But the waves are already lapping at her and pulling her away, and she can't surrender so instead she just smiles and pretends that she's fine with it.
After all, what are friends for?