Kick and Run
After my disconcerting encounter with Lupin, I settled myself in a rarely traveled hallway and banged my head - gently, of course - against the wall. Best case scenario? The potion worked, Lupin and his crew of merry kittens were mollified, and I was free to resume my business in Gryffindor without having four wands pointed at my throat at every waking moment. Worst case scenario? Well, the Star Grass reacted poorly with my sobering draught and I now had one death on my conscience.
Of course, that was highly unlikely - Star Grass was only fatal if it had been planted on the night of a full moon, and my source was reputable. Probably.
Still, I couldn't help but feel uneasy. To distract myself, I hoisted myself onto a windowsill, the cool glass pressing against my back, and flipped open my Arithmancy textbook. I'd already skipped the past two classes, which meant I was far - far - behind and - even worse - Professor Vector was bound to be furious.
I traced the book's worn leather corner absent-mindedly. Potions, Herbology, Arithmancy - the three subjects vital to my business and, luckily, the three subjects which did not require extensive wandwork. Achieving marks just high enough to qualify for the higher level classes yet low enough to deter unwanted attention was incredibly difficult. Still, my string of unexcused absences fell firmly in the undesirable category. They drew attention, and with attention...well, I'd gone over this dozens of times already.
I'd just finished scrawling last week's homework problems on a fresh roll of parchment when a shadow fell over the page.
I shut the book as quickly as I could without drawing suspicion and looked up casually.
A tall Gryffindor with softly curling strawberry-blonde hair stood before me, her arms braced on her hips.
"Where is the Amortentia?" she demanded.
Ah. The love potion girl - Thomas, was it?
"Has it been a month?" I asked.
She paused before shaking her head vigorously. "No, but-"
"Funny, because according to the calendar, it's only been three weeks and a day. Now, unless the definition of a month has changed, three weeks and one day do not make up a month."
She scowled. "Fine, bu-"
"And didn't I tell you that Essence of Aphrodite would take a month to brew?"
The Gryffindor had a comically stricken expression on her face - did she expect me to bow down and grovel? She may be a customer, but she was not my superior.
"I could give you the potion now. Of course, that would result in the immediate death - at best - of the potion's recipient. You might try to blame the death on me. Your attempt will fail. Not for lack of trying, I'm sure - you seem the vindictive type - but for lack of proof. You won't find a single person willing to turn me in - they've purchased one too many sports-performance enhancing potions or one of the many other less than acceptable potions I carry."
"I'll find a Gryffindor. Any Gryffindor would jump at the chance to put a Slytherin down," she sneered.
I arched a brow. True, I hadn't yet - thank Merlin - had an opportunity to test my business's clout when it came to inter-House conflict. Still, I'd been very careful in selecting my clients in Gryffindor. I only sold scandalous or less-than-savory potions to Gryffindors. This ensured at least a moment of hesitation. An investigation would reveal each and every one of my clients - and the products they'd purchased.
"Doubtful. But, let's say a miracle does happen and you tie me to my potions production business. Then this case becomes a matter of misuse of a product - you have directly disobeyed my clear instructions, thus absolving me of any responsibility. You go to Azkaban for life for the murder of a minor and I get off with a relatively light sentence. Then, of course, I use my contacts in Azkaban to make your imprisonment a living hell," I said coolly.
I didn't have any contacts in Azkaban, but she didn't have to know that.
"I'll say you didn't tell me anything. My friends will back me up," she said, looking more unsettled with each passing second.
I hid a smile - Merlin, this was too easy.
With an unhurried movement, I slipped my hand into my pocket and pressed my finger against the smooth, small object hidden within.
My low voice slipped out of the object immediately - "I'll arrange a drop off of three Essences of Aphrodite in your dorm by the end of the month; it takes time to brew, and an incomplete brewing will result in the immediate death of the recipient. Do not use all three at once - at least not on the same person-"
I clicked the recorder again, stopping the recording immediately. I thanked Jasper silently - I'd asked the Ravenclaw to design an easily concealed recording device back in third year as a means of preventing any attempt to weasel out of payment.
She reached for the device, and I stepped back nimbly. "Don't even think of tampering with this device. I have several copies hidden around Hogwarts and have instructed others to release its contents if I do not get in contact with them within a predetermined amount of time."
Thomas's face was deathly pale. "I - I never -" she stuttered.
I arched a brow.
After a long moment she said haughtily, "Just make sure you have the potion by this Friday."
She wheeled away and scurried down the corridor.
Having successfully deterred her attack, I transferred my attention back to the heavy Arithmancy textbook. I still had to make up the paper on the Wenlock Theory of Number Relativity, but since I'd missed the class on Wenlock's Hypotheses, I was woefully lost. I was hardly stupid, but even I could admit when I was over my head.
I half-heartedly began copying the formulas onto another roll of parchment, balancing the heavy textbook precariously on my left knee, before getting up with a huff. This wasn't doing me any good - I'd have to find someone in my class to ask for help.
As I shoved the book back into my bag, I tried to recall the names of the students in my Arithmancy elective. Unfortunately, none of them was a customer and, thus, I had no idea who they were.
Well, I'd just have to wait for the next class and ask then. Satisfied with my plan, I shouldered my bag and headed down to the laboratory to work on Thomas's love potion.
xxxxx
Two days after I gave Lupin the potion, Dark and Hostile approached me as I was heading towards my secret laboratory.
Hearing his light footsteps behind me, I quickly switched directions, arcing away from the tapestry marking the room's location and instead heading towards a large window in the adjacent corridor.
I peered innocently through the frosted glass, pretending to watch the Slytherin Quidditch team practice in the pitch below.
He paused beside me and, after hesitating for another moment, rested his forearms next to mine on the windowsill.
I suppressed a scowl; my reflex enhancing potion was due for another stir in another ten minutes, and if I missed that time-point I would have to redo the whole month long process.
I thought of and dismissed six different tactics to get rid off Black, ranging from dousing him in the experimental version of my Forget-Me-All potion to kicking him in the shins and running away. Seeing as the latest trial of my Forget-Me-All potion had resulted in a violent seizure and lasting hiccups, the first option was out. As for the latter...I assessed him quickly, noting his long legs and fit physique. I'd left my Strength in a Bottle potion in my dorm, so outrunning him was out, too.
Well, Lucy always said I was remarkably standoffish. Perhaps I could ward him off by simply being myself.
I ignored him studiously, turning back to the window. The seconds ticked by far too quickly, and I felt sweat dripping slowly down the nape of my neck. Why wasn't he taking the hint? Merlin, it had taken me two months and several batches of sobering draught to obtain the necessary ingredients for this potion. The "kick and run" option was becoming more and more attractive by the second. Maybe if I kicked hard enough and in the correct location, he'd be debilitated enough for me to reach the side corridor and disappear. Then again, he was best mates with Potter, and the Head Boy could put my business in jeopardy if I hurt his friend.
He cleared his throat. "Thorne. I haven't heard of that name before, and, as a member of the most noble House of Black, I know all the Pureblood families." The words, which could have emerged as a boast from anyone else, only rang of bitterness.
I met his dark eyes squarely. I was tired of being judged for my blood, for my House. In a way, he was as bad as the Death Eaters - at least in terms of bias.
"That's because I'm not a Pureblood," I said matter-of-factly. I felt a slight pang of regret after the admission - the more people who knew, the more danger I was in - but I didn't think Black would spread the knowledge around. Somehow, I felt he understood the perils of Slytherin more than most Gryffindors.
He blinked. "But - you're a Slytherin," he finished lamely.
I looked away, resting my forearms on the window sill. "And you're a Gryffindor."
His mouth snapped closed as I continued, "My mother's a Squib, and I don't know who my father is. I'm also apparently evil and like the colour green and snakes."
I was only half-joking about the evil part. The Sorting Hat had obviously thought I was ruthless enough to warrant a Slytherin branding, thus dooming my business to a drastically smaller consumer base. Inconvenient, yes, but the contacts I'd made in Slytherin had been invaluable.
My expression soured as I remembered my Sorting. I'd had it all planned out; I would be in Ravenclaw, a house which was both respected and neutral. From there, I could make contacts with intelligent business partners and reach out to all three Houses without fear of prejudice. Besides, Ravenclaw had always appealed to me. I loved inventing new potions, and what was more cerebral than that?
The stupid hat had ruined everything.
"Look, I-" he paused. "The potion worked. Moo - Remus is better than I've ever seen him before, and-"
I looked at him sharply. "These headaches are a regular occurrence, then?" I interjected.
His expression shuttered. "What makes you think that?" he said, straightening abruptly. A thoughtful look crossed his eyes, and he began to shift positions. He propped an arm against the cool window, slanting his body into a lazy slant. He tilted his angular face slightly to the side, his regal cheekbones showing in profile as the winter sun painted a golden halo on his silky hair. Was this supposed to impress me? Yes, he was attractive, but so were plenty of people. Did he expect a medal? What was it with Gryffindors and this need for external validation?
I looked at him blankly. "You said 'ever.' That implies repeat occurrences," I pointed out.
He scowled, slumping back down to his original position.
"So? You apparently suffer from headaches as well," he said.
I shrugged.
He sighed heavily. "Merlin, you're not making this easy. Anyway, I wanted to say that maybe I misjudged you. I'm sorry about that, at least," he said, sounding like he regretted approaching me.
Well, that was surprising. I nodded stiffly before turning back to the window.
I now had three minutes to get rid of him. I was readying myself to kick and run when he abruptly stepped away from the window.
"I've got to go," he muttered. Then, with a swift turn of his heel, he was gone. I stared after his retreating back, my brow furrowed, before quickly turning to peer out the window. He'd obviously seen something upsetting enough to make him leave in a hurry -
I scanned the Quidditch pitch carefully, but all I could see was a mass of flying black blurs, interspersed only by the occasional flash of emerald green. Snow began to fall in heavy flakes, further obscuring my view. After trying in vain to pick out anything of import, I huffed and jerked myself away from the window. I didn't have time to concern myself with his affairs; my potions were waiting.
I hurriedly scanned the empty corridor for any spies before practically running past the hidden door, thinking fiercely, "I need a place to brew potions. I need a place to brew potions. I need a place to -"
A dark wooden door appeared in the wall, and I escaped once more into my sanctuary.
AN: so sorry for the delay! School got the best of me. Thank you all for reading and please consider dropping a comment! :)