Black Sheep Alone: Oops. I guess it's a good thing I don't have to take herbology. I would definitely make a T. Thanks for bringing that to my attention.
Lise: I'm so glad you adore my story and decided to make a point to review. Just one review makes it so much easier to keep writing.
Triss Marigold: If the couple really intrigues you, I suggest reading Angel of the North's Breaking the Rules at the Sugarquill. It's absolutely wonderful.
PS: Holly, Lise, Triss, and Keira, look for your cameos coming up in the next few chapters!
Disclaimer: Potter's not mine. I can only wish to be as brilliant as Rowling.
Last Minute Gifts
Padma sprawled lazily across the couch in the living room counting her pay from Mr. Swarthmore. After two weeks of work, she had already earned half of what she needed to rent her own apartment minus the money she had spent on Christmas gifts. Granted, it would be a very dingy apartment located in the middle of all the pubs, but her own apartment none the less.
The galleons made a satisfying clink as she dropped them in a tin that had once held a quart of scarab beetles.
"Padma!" her mother called from the kitchen, "As soon as I'm done with the fudge, we can leave for Aunt Keira's!"
Her stomach sank. She knew she had forgotten something: Holly, Marigold, and Lise's gifts.
"Oh, fudge," she muttered, refraining from slapping her forehead. The bruise was still there, albeit not as bad as it had previously been, but she was not interested in aggravating it further.
She tugged on her coat and hat quickly. If she hurried, she could make it to Diagon Alley before the stores closed for Christmas Eve and buy her cousins something.
"I'll meet you there, Mum!" she called back, "I forgot to drop something off at the Apothecary for Mr. Swarthmore!"
The floo powder was in a cloth bag hanging from the fireplace mantle. She grabbed a pinch of it and made a mental note to take her apparating test as soon as Christmas was over. Floo powder, in her opinion, was not a pleasant form of travel.
"Diagon Alley!"
Green flames swirled around her body and she was jerked upwards at lightning speed.
She soon tumbled out of the fireplace choking on the smoke that she had accidentally inhaled. A few people stopped to stare at her now disheveled appearance as she sat on the snow covered cobblestones. Her skirt was bunched up around her knees and her hair had flown loose from its bun. She scrambled to her feet, red-faced; to salvage what was left of her dignity.
People hurried every which way, but, unfortunately, it seemed that they were not out to shop, for every store had a Closed sign floating in the window. Every sane person in the Wizarding world was with their family, not traipsing up and down the streets of Diagon Alley looking for last minute gifts. Padma could have kicked herself. It was Christmas Eve, she was running late, and she did not have gifts for everyone.
A few random excuses ran through her head.
My owl delivered it to the wrong person.
I mistook it for a boggart.
I misfired a spell, and the mistletoe ate it.
A Weasley twin…
She squinted into the distance. Two identical mops of red hair were outside a store, apparently locking it up.
"Wait!" she cried out as she ran down the street, all dignity forgotten, "George!"
George turned around when he heard his name called and was surprised to see Padma running towards he and Fred in what he thought was a very
un-Padmalike way. She appeared to be quite frantic.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
She slowed to a stop.
"You have to help me. I forgot to buy my cousins presents and there isn't a single store open so I was hoping maybe you would let me buy something from your store. I'll even pay twice the price."
George stared at her, amazed that she had managed to say all of that in one breath after running down the street. He turned to Fred.
"Go ahead and go back to the burrow. Tell Mum I'm with a customer and I'll be a little late."
Fred shrugged. "Alright, but I can't promise that there will be any food left when you get there. I'll try and hold off on testing the new batch of Skivving, though."
There was a loud pop and he disappeared. George quickly unlocked the front door for them.
"I can't thank you enough for this," she told him, stomping the snow off her shoes at the welcome mat, "I feel like a right prat."
He gave her the familiar lopsided smile.
"It's the least I can do since you saved our last product."
They walked slowly down the first aisle, Padma occasionally stopping to inspect a product. George watched as she absentmindedly twirled a strand of dark hair around her finger. Even looking like she had just done battle with a chimera, she was still attractive.
"You are going to give me the antidote to whatever I buy, aren't you? I'm sure I will be the victim of various pranks after this."
He laughed, forgetting what he had previously been thinking about. "I'm sure Parvati won't be happy you're buying from us either."
"She'll be positively murderous."
She picked up a few boxes of Fever Fudge and Fainting Fancies. Marigold, Holly, and Lise loved to try and get out of class, especially potions. Not that Padma blamed them.
"Did the toffee work?" she asked, "I meant to talk to you, but Fred started coming to the Apothecary instead."
"He has to go buy the supplies because of your toffee," George explained, "It's become one of our most popular products. I have to be making a new batch almost non-stop."
"My toffee?"
He grabbed a purple box off of a shelf just above her head and showed it to her. The gold lettering read: Padma's Permanently Sticky Toffees. Make that annoying prat next to you in the library shut up so you can finish your essay.
"Since you helped with the recipe, I thought you deserved some credit, even if the name isn't very good."
She blushed and played with the maroon ribbon around one of the boxes of Fever Fudge.
"It was no problem, really. Just as long as I'm never on the receiving end of a piece."
"Nope, never. We tested it on Ron. You still saved me a lot of time and a few sets of eyebrows, though." He furrowed his brow in thought and then pushed the box into her hands. "Take some. It's all on me."
"No, George," she protested, "I won't know what to do with them. Besides, won't Fred…"
"Fred won't know," he interrupted, "I'll pay for them. Besides, it's half my store."
She opened her mouth to protest again, but George interrupted her again.
"Merry Christmas, Padma."
She sighed and then, impulsively, gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
"Merry Christmas, George."