6 YEARS LATER
Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was a booming business, one that continued to grow due to its ever-increasing customer basis and the dedication of its co-owners. Owners who always appeared to be tinkering away at something or another and I'd tried my very best not to get involved in any of it. It was just easier and, often, safer not to know. Ignorance was bliss and this was one aspect of my life where I would appreciate being ignorant. Not that it was so easy to do when you were dating one of the owners.
Even now, as I sat in the back storeroom, trying my best to focus on the book transcript I'd been assigned to read before the publishing company considered it, Fred was tinkering away. The shop floor was busy, crowded with overexcited children and their haggard parents, and large groups of pranksters of all ages. All of the noise from the shop floor travelled into the backroom and I briefly pitied the employees who were manning the front of the shop. I contemplated joining them and made a mental note to do so once I'd reached the end of the chapter I was reading through. Not that Fred made it easy.
My boyfriend, who stood in front of a boiling cauldron with the elbows of his sleeve rolled up, was staring down at its contents with complete focus. He was waiting for a colour change, one he insisted happened in the blink of an eye. Using my finger to mark my place, I closed the transcript and studied him for a moment, taking the time to admire him from afar.
Fred came to life all of a sudden, hurriedly turning the bunsen off and reaching for two tea towels. Using the towels to aid him, he lifted the cauldron from the heat and set it on a heatproof mat. Quickly, he picked up the potion vial he had sterilised in preparation and carefully poured some of the fresh potion into it, being careful not to get a drop of it on him.
Corking the vial, Fred held the potion aloft and studied the teal liquid against the light. He grinned in satisfaction before returning to the rest of the potion. Taking his time, he bottled up the rest of the potion and I returned my focus once more, to the transcript I was supposed to be reading. I shuffled a tad uncomfortably on my chair, my bum having become numb long ago. Forcing myself to focus on the written word in front of me, I immersed myself once more in the fictional world the author had created. It was an interesting premise, one that would need fleshing out a tad more before it could be published. But it had promise.
"Love?" Fred called out for me. When I didn't answer right away, he knew to wait, and that I'd respond when I reached a point where I could.
Making it to the end of the passage, I looked up at him to find him drying his hand on a tea towel, "Yes, my love?"
He didn't say a word. Instead, he approached me with an innocent smile that already had my hackles rising. That look was far from innocent, it spelt danger. Searching the room for an escape, I was quickly deflated when I realised that the only exit was behind him and he'd stop me with complete ease. Still, refusing to give in so quickly, I strengthened my spine and regarded him coolly. Coming to a stop in front of my chair, he innocently held out one of the newly portioned potion towards me.
"No," I protested vehemently, "Absolutely not, that is not happening."
"Come on, love. Help your boyfriend out." He gave me an encouraging smile. I didn't buy it.
"The last time I helped you out, I broke out into poxes," I shot back. Fred winced at the reminder. "Don't you remember how badly it scarred my skin? It took months for it to recover - months."
"I remember," he assured apologetically. "But do you trust me? This done isn't going to do anything like that. Trust me."
"Trust you?" I repeated with narrowed eyes. Fred just continued to look at me with an encouraging smile. My eyes settled on the vial that he still held out towards me. Accepting it with a reluctant sigh, I studied the small vial; it looked so inconspicuous. And yet, I couldn't shake the thought that it wasn't. Cradling it in my palm, I shot Fred a probing look, "What is this one supposed to do?"
"You'll see," he evaded and it was almost enough to have me declining.
"If anything happens to me," I started warningly, uncorking the potion and raising it to my nose. Taking a tentative sniff, I detected a faint scent of vanilla.
Fred was quick to assure me, "Nothing will happen."
"But if it does, you're responsible for all the cleaning in the flat for the next month."
I expected the condition to throw Fred, to make him contemplate and backtrack, especially since I knew how much he hated cleaning. But he didn't. He didn't even contemplate it for a second and just nodded, resolute. It was his conviction that cemented it for me.
"Bottoms up, I guess," I muttered, tipping my head back and raising the vial to my mouth.
I emptied it in one quick shot, swallowing the contents with one quick gulp. Corking the empty vial again, I handed it to Fred who was quick to accept it. He set it aside, and crossed his arms, leaning against the table as he continued to watch me. His eyes lingered on my face for a fair beat and when there was no immediate reaction, I felt my shoulders ease.
"How do you feel?" Fred asked finally.
"Fine." I briefly wondered if the potion was defective because nothing had happened. But then again, I wasn't sure what was supposed to happen.
Grinning abruptly, Fred straightened up. "That's perfect, at least you're not vomiting. You should have seen the way the last batch made Lee projectile vomit."
"What?" I screeched, my leg shooting out to kick Fred who easily dodged it.
"But don't worry," he assured me, hands held out placatingly, "this is the amended recipe."
"Which you didn't know would work!" I pointed out, preparing to shoot up from my chair to beat him with my transcript.
Before I could act on the urge, I was up from the stool, moving through the air. Shrieking and panicking, I tried to grab onto any surface to stop myself from drifting up until I hit the ceiling. With a deep chuckle, Fred took hold of my leg, bringing me easily down again. He held onto my leg, keeping me anchored in the air above him by my leg. I struggled to string a sentence together, wanting to demand he reverse this.
"The kids are going to love this!"
Ignoring his obvious glee, I demanded, "How long until this wears off?"
"I'll have to let George know this recipe works."
"Fred!"
"Let me get something to anchor you down, love. I need to label the potions."
"Don't you dare! Fred!"
