Chapter thirty.

Monday's have a habit on creeping up on you. Just as you start to enjoy the weekend it suddenly, well, ends. Ayla hated Monday's with a passion. Monday's meant work, and complaining customers, and four more days until the next weekend. This particular Monday was more hellish than most. Ayla never felt more sick or light headed in all her memory. It wasn't a hang over. Unless it was anew breed of hangover, that snuck up on you two days after you consumed a single glass of mulled wine.

To make matters worse today's customers seemed to want to be more difficult and demanding that usual. They didn't want standard broom polish, they wanted the vanilla scented one with extra shine. They didn't want just one Bludger set, they wanted one and a half Bludger sets. Ayla had a strong desire to tell these people that they didn't want to annoy her and get on her bad side, they wanted to get out of her way and out of her shop. But this was the kind of thing her uncle disliked. This did not show a positive mental attitude or a willingness to help. Ayla decided that it was days like these that made her grateful she wasn't a house elf.

For the moment the shop was quiet. Ayla was taking this spare time to count the minutes until she could leave. There were forty two. In her opinion that was forty two too many. Surely being the manager meant she could finish whenever she wanted? No, that was what being the owner meant, she remembered. Damn.

The bell over the door gave a cheery little tinkle and Ayla wanted nothing more than to rip it down and stamp on it until it was flat. She'd have to see to the customer first though. The customer happened to be exactly the type she really didn't want to have to deal with right now. More difficult to please than a mother spoiling her first born. More picky than any nine year old boy. It was a professional player. Double damn. Professional players were the worst. They queried everything, tested everything, and then queried it all again before leaving empty handed and a disaster area left in their wake. Of course it had to be Marcus Flint, the player with the biggest reputation in the business. Flint liked perfection. Ayla preferred just being left alone. But then everyone was different.

"Need new gloves."

Ah well hello to you too. Yes it is a lovely day isn't it? Thank you for asking, I'm quite well. Ayla got the pleasantries over with in her head, there was no point wasting them on Flint after all.

"Which ones?"

If he could afford to spare words for her, she could do the same for him.

"What you got?"

"Everything."

"Then show me."

Ayla had foolishly hoped he'd be the type of customer who knew exactly what he wanted, had his money ready, and would leave right after the transaction was completed. She tended to forget that those customers didn't actually exist is real life, only in her head. She set about gathering all the gloves they stocked and placing them in front of him. He tried every pair, and dismissed them all.

"You got anything thicker? More hard wearing? I go through gloves quite quickly. None of these would last one match."

"We've got a new set in that you might like."

She knew he wouldn't leave until he got the perfect pair. She just hoped this last pair were perfect. She had misplaced her wand that morning and so was unable to summon the gloves from their home on the top shelf. Grumbling and cursing his name under breath, she climbed the ladder instead. At the top she realised she was a few inches out of reach. Damn it. Ayla really wasn't in the mood for this. She hated heights. Her head had been swimming all day, and now at the top of a ladder, she felt like she was on a merry go round. She grasped for the box, her fingers just scraped the side.

"Need a hand?"

The merry go round was now revolving at an alarming speed. If it didn't stop soon she thought she'd be sick. She took another swipe, as a cold sweat broke out across her forehead. She really hated heights. Her grasp on the ladder was getting slippery as the sweat passed to her palms. If she was quick she could get the box and get down before she really was sick. Her body had started to shake now. One last swipe at the box, her hand caught it, but her grip on consciousness slipped. She fainted.

Flint had moved to the side of the ladder when she missed the second time. It would be quicker if he just summoned it. Why were some witches so stubborn? He saw her begin to fall before his brain caught on to what was happening. She dropped in his arms, lucky he was there really. He stood for a moment with a girl in his arms. He didn't quite know what to do. He wasn't the type of wizard into whose arms women regularly fell. There was no one else in the shop. Well this was awkward. He supposed he should get her to a doctor. He looked behind the counter, spying a fireplace and a pot of floo powder. Right well that settled it, floo her to Saint Mungo's and then go home. Having the sense to lock the doors first, Flint strode towards the fireplace. He had only come in for a pair of gloves, and now he had to play the hero. He wasn't having a good day. Although he reasoned it was clearly slightly better than that of the girl in his arms.

Marcus strode through the reception and placed the girl on a bench. He approached the receptionist with an air of caution. They really were difficult people receptionists.

"Can I leave her with you? She fainted. I don't think there's anything wrong with her."

"Take her up to the sixth floor."

"No look, she's not my responsibility. I'm just dropping her off."

"Do I look like a Healer to you?"

Flint wasn't sure he should say what he thought the receptionist looked like.

"No…"

"Then take her up to the sixth floor. You brought her in, that makes her your responsibility buddy."

"Fine." he didn't want to argue about this. He'd take her upstairs and leave her there. One pair of gloves, that's all he had wanted. It wasn't much to ask really.

He found a similar bench up there and laid the girl down once more, before turning to leave. Upon turning he was confronted by and elderly Healer in lime green robes.

"What do we have here then?" she asked.

Flint sighed. He just wanted to go home and get away from crazy women. It didn't look like that was going to happen anytime soon.

"She's fainted." he replied.

"Right then, bring her through here." the older witch said, signalling him to follow.

They entered a small room off the corridor. Flint placed the girl on the single bed and made to move back out of the door.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Uh…"

"Sit down." the woman gestured imperiously at the only chair in the room.

The healer waved her wand over the girl, who was, at last, beginning to stir.

"No need to worry deary, you're in good hands. I'm Healer Wilks. You can call me Val. Now let's see what's got you in this mess."

She did an odd gesture with her wand and a small amount of ticker tape sprang from the end.

"Hmm low blood sugar. Have you eaten anything today dear?"

"No" Ayla said shaking her head.

"Well now that's no good. Seen as you're eating for two. Not good at all."

"I'm sorry what?"

"I said not good at all. Did you hit your head?"

"No I mean the eating for two part. What do you mean by that?"

"Well it's an expression deary. When a woman is pregnant they say she's eating for two"

Ayla's jaw dropped. She couldn't be. This was a dream, she'd wake up in a minute.

"I take it from you expression that you didn't know. Well congratulations. A baby is a wonderful gift." she smiled warmly at Ayla before turning to Flint. "And you're going to be a father dear!" she said patting his hand. "I'll leave you two to it."


Laughs evilly Oh I loved writing this chapter. I wish I could see the looks on all your faces right now. Thanks for all the reviews. Hope you all enjoyed it though grins.