QLFC Round 3 Submission
Keeper for the Tutshill Tornadoes
Prompt: Satisfied: Write about unrequited feelings (romantic or platonic)
Lyric from Satisfied: "You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied"
Word Count: 3005
Note: Regency AU; female Seamus Finnigan.
The Lady Bird
Siobhan Finnegan absently circled her dance partner on the floor of the country hall. Her feet moved in unison with those of other couples, but while they were intent on the game of courtship, her mind drifted far away from her own frustratingly cheerful partner to the potion that was brewing in the back of her wardrobe. There were vials to fill, owls to send, and a cauldron to be cleaned — oh, how bothersome that she must linger here when there was so much to do!
Siobhan had begun her potions business two years ago, during her final year at Hogwarts, when she'd discovered the surprisingly large number of young ladies of Quality in need of potions to prevent unwanted pregnancies ("not that I'd ever use it," they'd all said). When she wasn't exploding cauldrons, she was a competent brewer, and she'd been happy to fill the demand. While it had started as nothing more than a way to earn some extra pocket money, Siobhan now hoped that her business would be her ticket to independence. As the word had spread about the witch who provided potions for Delicate Matters, Siobhan's clientele had expanded. Unbeknownst to her parents, Siobhan had opened an account at Gringotts in which she deposited all of her funds. She calculated that in just a few more years, she'd have enough money saved to buy herself a small cottage somewhere in a wizarding community, where she could at least brew potions and receive owls without worrying about prying Muggle eyes.
Provided, of course, that her mother didn't succeed in finding a wealthy gentleman for Siobhan to marry first — something Siobhan hoped to avoid at all costs. As she'd learned from her time at Hogwarts, Siobhan would never be a part of the wizarding gentry due to her halfblood status. This could have been overlooked, of course, had Siobhan's family been ridiculously wealthy, but they were not, and so she was limited to Muggle Society. The chances of finding another wizard here were slim, and the best she could hope for was to find a Muggle open-minded enough not to be deterred by her witchhood (the alternative, of course, was to do as she suspected her mother had done and wait until after her nuptials to break the news, relying on her husband's fear of a scandal to keep her secret safe).
"Do you enjoy dancing, Miss Finnegan?" Her dance partner, Mr. Lockhart, flashed her a smile that was obviously supposed to be charming. She ignored it.
"It is very agreeable, sir," she said politely. Best to keep her answer short.
Siobhan continued to avoid conversation for the rest of their dance, curtsying and mumbling her thanks when the music ended. To her relief, she heard her mother's voice calling from behind her.
"Siobhan! Siobhan, dear! Over here!"
Happy to make her escape from Lockhart's insufferable smile, Siobhan hurried to where her mother stood at the side of the room, making conversation with the McKinnons and a handsome young gentleman she'd never seen before.
"Mr. Thomas, might I introduce you to my daughter, Siobhan?"
Siobhan curtsied as Mr. Thomas bowed. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Thomas. How long will you be in Devonshire?"
"Ah, I'll only be visiting my Aunt and Uncle McKinnon for a fortnight at most. Business in London must then call me away."
Siobhan's heart soared as her mother's smile faltered. Only two weeks! Not nearly long enough for her mother to foist Mr. Thomas on her!
Siobhan conversed with Mr. Thomas and the McKinnons just as long as politeness dictated before she excused herself, claiming she was parched from dancing. When she saw Mr. Lockhart among the throng around the drinks, however, she quickly found an unoccupied corner to loiter in. A lovely painting of a sailboat hung on the wall there, and as Siobhan looked closer, she found that it was exquisitely detailed; she could see individual strands of cord in the ropes and read the lettering on the sailboat's prow: The Lady Bird. A man stood on the sailboat, and although she couldn't place it, something about him seemed familiar...
"Miss Finnegan?" Siobhan's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Mr. Thomas's voice. "I wondered if I might have the next dance?"
Oh, bother. Best to get this over with.
"How do you like Devonshire, Mr. Thomas?" Siobhan asked, facing her new partner.
"Well enough on the whole - although there is a tragic lack of French cooks in the neighborhood."
"Oh?" So he was a rich snob, then. Siobhan suddenly wondered if she could have Lockhart's obnoxious smile back.
"Why, yes. However are the neighbors supposed to compete with each other if they can't boast of the talents of their French cooks?"
Siobhan broke her strict policy of not encouraging men by letting out a giggle. "Cheer up, Mr. Thomas. We've enough carriages in Devonshire to start as many feuds as you would like."
Thomas smiled back. It was a shy smile and seemed to light up his face. "Oh, is that so?"
By the end of the dance, Siobhan found that despite her best efforts, she rather liked Mr. Thomas, and by the end of their second, she liked him even more. It was unfortunate, as she was determined that she would never marry, but as she drifted off to sleep that night, she found herself thinking of him...
The next morning, Siobhan slept in late and woke to a delightful aroma. It smelled of lavender and a field after a rainstorm and... horse hair? She rose, donned a morning dress, and began searching for the source of the scent. Down the hall, at her parents' bedroom door, it seemed strongest. Hearing the sound of her mother humming inside, Siobhan knocked.
"Come in," said Mrs. Finnegan.
Cecily Finnegan was seated at her vanity. In front of her was the source — a cauldron, steaming away in broad daylight.
"Mama, what are you doing?" Siobhan exclaimed. She shut the door behind her and looked out the window. "Someone could see you!"
"Oh, most of the servants probably already know I'm a witch," Mrs. Finnegan said, giving the cauldron a stir.
"But still, you can't be too careful. Where is Papa?" Siobhan said, giving the contents of the cauldron a good, strong whiff. She did, indeed, smell horse hair. "Mama, is that Amortentia?!"
"Yes, dear," said Mrs. Finnegan, still unconcernedly stirring her cauldron. "Your father's gone to ask Mr. Thomas and the McKinnons over for our little gathering later this week."
"Mama! You can't — you can't just put love potion into people's drinks!" Siobhan spluttered.
"I'll probably put it in Mr. Thomas's food as well, just to be safe," Mrs. Finnegan said calmly. "The man is half in love with you already. He just needs a little push, and since you have no desire to provide it, my duty is clear."
"But Mama, how would you like to wake up next to a husband you'd tricked into marriage - "
"Come now, dear, how do you think I got your father to marry me?"
"MAMA!"
Fifteen minutes later, Siobhan stormed into her room. She'd pleaded and pleaded, but her mother had refused to change her mind. Siobhan would have to take matters into her own hands. Concealed behind the dresses in Siobhan's wardrobe was a large space she'd created with an undetectable extension charm. Shelves filled with books and magical herbs lined the wardrobe's wooden walls, and her own cauldron bubbled merrily on top of a sturdy table. Siobhan picked up a ladle and, swearing nonstop (there was a strong silencing charm on the wardrobe) began to dole her potion out into empty vials, wrapping each one in cloth and placing them in envelopes. Stowing her cargo safely in a large satchel, Siobhan Apparated to a cave on a hill several miles away. Over a hundred owls waited for her there, perched on various ledges inside and around the cave. It took Siobhan several hours and three nipped fingers, but she finally sent the owls on their way.
As she watched the silhouette of the last owl grow smaller, movement caught Siobhan's eye in the treeline below, but when she looked closer, she saw nothing. It was probably just a squirrel; she felt a little paranoid after seeing her mother brew right out in the open. Speaking of which, it was time to rectify that situation.
Back in her wardrobe, using her now-empty cauldron, Siobhan brewed the antidote to Amortentia. It was a simple draught which she finished quickly (with only one minor explosion) and stored in a large flask. The real trick would be getting it in Mr. Thomas's dinner without anyone noticing.
The morning of the party, Siobhan managed to slip into the cellar unnoticed while the cook was berating a maid and quickly located bottles of a dark red Cabernet sitting out on a table. Working quickly, she used her wand to remove the corks and topped off the bottles with her elixir. Now to get the corks back in... she used a shrinking spell on each one, worked them into the bottlenecks, and then engorged them back to their former size. Perfect. She hoped Mr. Thomas drank lots of wine.
Siobhan hurried back up the stairs and into the kitchen. Her flask was still nearly half full, so she hurriedly looked around. Spotting a creamy soup simmering on the stove, she emptied the remainder into the pot, gave it a stir, and rushed out before the cook returned.
Dinner was disastrous. When the wine was poured, Siobhan saw with horror that it was not a red Cabernet, but a white Sauvignon. She would have to hope that the potion in the soup would be enough. All throughout the meal, Siobhan anxiously watched Mr. Thomas for signs of unusual behaviour. To her dismay, although his behavior did not strike her as particularly odd, he did ask her to dance a set with him.
Dizzy with the thrill of dancing with Mr. Thomas, who had asked her for a second dance after the first, Siobhan retreated from the floor to catch her breath and found herself standing, once again, by the painting of The Lady Bird. There was the man on the boat, who had seemed so familiar. Once again, Siobhan leaned in to inspect the painting. This close to the canvas, it was almost as though she could hear the sound of waves and smell the ocean's salty spray. How odd. No, she could hear waves - and where was the noisy chatter of the ballroom? The floor seemed to rock beneath her for a moment, and then everything became perfectly silent and dark. Siobhan tried to move, but couldn't. Time seemed to be suspended.
After what seemed like an eternity, there came a loud crack!
"Lumos," a man's voice came from the darkness.
A wizard? In Devonshire? The man used his wand to light a lamp, and now she could see his face: it was Mr. Lockhart! She suddenly knew that he was the man she had seen on the sailboat!
"Hullo, Miss Finnegan. Sorry I'm late," he said cheerfully.
Siobhan found that she could move again. She was in a spacious office with several comfortable armchairs, enormous bookcases, and what looked like a Pensieve in the corner. Lockhart and his abominable smile were leaning on a desk.
"Mr. Lockhart," she said. "I didn't realize that you are a wizard."
"Ravenclaw," he said with a grin. "It appears that we have something in common; I didn't realize that you are a witch."
"I'm not," Siobhan lied. She didn't know what he wanted, but she didn't trust Lockhart any farther than a flobberworm flobbed. "That is, I'm a Squib."
"Aah, my apologies. Always an unfortunate matter... did you like my painting?"
"Quite exquisite. I think, sir, I should like to return to the dance now," Siobhan said firmly.
"Yes, of course. Right over here." Lockhart gestured to a sheet of parchment on the desk behind him.
Siobhan crossed the room, watching Lockhart suspiciously from the corner of her eye. As she peered at the parchment - which was blank - she saw Lockhart flick his wand. The paper twisted and turned and formed itself into a chain and cuff which locked itself snugly around her wrist and then attached itself to a solid steel ring in the wall.
"Sorry," Mr. Lockhart said with an impish grin. "Please understand, it's nothing personal; you'll be returned to your family as soon as they pay a small fee."
"You're a kidnapper, and you're demanding a ransom from my family," Siobhan said drily, not impressed with her annoyingly lighthearted captor.
"Well, kidnapper is a strong word," Lockhart said with a cheerful grin. "I prefer the term, 'collector,' but - "
A man suddenly appeared, Petrified, on the same patch of floor where Siobhan had been moments before. With a sinking feeling, Siobhan realized that it was Mr. Thomas.
"Ah, Mr. Thomas," Lockhart said. "I hoped you'd drop in tonight. I'll be wiping your memory now, of course."
Lockhart began advancing towards Thomas, and Siobhan knew there was nothing for it - she would have to get her wand out while Lockhart's back was turned. She hiked her evening gown up to her hip and grabbed the wand that she kept strapped to her right thigh.
"Stupefy!" Siobhan whispered, pointing her wand at Lockhart. Her aim was true; the spell hit, and Lockhart dropped limply to the ground. Thomas, still frozen on the floor, blushed bright red. Siobhan realized that her leg was still exposed and dropped her skirt, turning a similar shade of scarlet.
"Finite Incantatem!" she said as she flicked her wand at Mr. Thomas.
Thomas sat up, took Lockhart's wand, and rummaged through the man's pockets until he found a small vial. Then, to Siobhan's surprise, he stood up and pulled her into an embrace, wrapping her in his arms. Although it was shockingly forward, Siobhan found she didn't care to end it. Thomas finally did and looked at her intently.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
Siobhan nodded. There was a lump in her throat because she knew that his warm embrace was born of the love potion, not his own feelings.
"I'm an Auror," Thomas explained. "I was tasked with investigating a string of kidnappings, performed by a wizard. Until a month ago, we didn't even know about it because Lockhart was only targeting Muggles. He'd kidnap a young lady, demand money from the family, and wipe their memories.
"How did you find him, then?" Siobhan asked, intrigued.
"He got cocky," Thomas said, holding up the small vial. It was half-filled with a shimmering, golden liquid.
"Felix Felicis!" Siobhan gasped.
"Yes. We suspect he's been using it the entire time, and he finally took too much. Got overconfident, went after a wizarding family — couldn't obliviate them, of course; too risky. And then tonight, going after you, right under my nose ... "
Thomas gave Siobhan a look that made her want to melt back into his arms. She had to tell him now. "Mr. Thomas," she blurted, "You might be under the influence of a love potion."
"Is that what you think?" Thomas said incredulously.
"I mean it. My mother slipped it to you at dinner. I tried to convince her not to, but she wouldn't listen, so I put the antidote in everyone's food, but I don't think I got the dose right, and with the way you've been acting, I'm sorry, it seems that you care for me but that's going to end — "
Siobhan stopped talking, astonished, as Thomas laughed at her.
"Please sit down," Thomas said, gesturing to one of the armchairs. He waved his wand, freeing her wrist, and seated himself. "I'm an unmarried young wizard, and an Auror to boot. Even though my family name has little influence, I don't enter any Society gathering without antidotes for a variety of potions and poisons. I must confess... I've been taking the antidote for Amortentia ever since I first met you. Without qualification, I like you very much."
"As do I," said Siobhan. "Or — at least, I do, but I must warn you that I'm determined to never marry."
"Is this about the potions business?"
"You know about that?" asked Siobhan with alarm.
"When I first got here, I noticed the parliament of owls descending on your cave in the hills, and I decided to investigate," said Thomas with chagrin. "Call it the Auror in me. I must admit, I'm curious as to how you got started..."
And Thomas listened attentively as she told her tale of countless hours spent studying by candlelight, of a friend's distraught knock on her door in the night, of women who were damned by a society that reviled that which was natural, of mothers who braved the dangers of pregnancy, and of desperate women with no career to pursue other than that which gave men pleasure.
"You strike me," Thomas said slowly, when she was done, "as a woman who has never been satisfied."
"Perhaps," Siobhan replied. "But then, I'm a girl in a world in which my only job is to marry rich. Is it any wonder that I would want something more for myself — that I would forgo the love of a husband, if only to have a small piece of independence?"
Thomas frowned. "And supposing you could have both?"
"Perhaps. If I found someone who I could be sure wouldn't try to stop me from making my own decisions — because one way or another, I would."
"Yes, I believe you would, Siobhan," Thomas said with another of his shy smiles. He sighed. "I must be getting our friend back to the Ministry," he said, gesturing at Lockhart, still lying prone on the floor, "But I might ask for some time off once I've made my report. I'd like to see more of Devonshire."
Siobhan smiled back. "And Devonshire would be happy to have you."