Updates will come on Sundays; I know it's only been three days and the updates have been frequent, but I want to start that pattern now. Sundays are the only says of the week I'm actually free of class or work. So they're catch-up days for many things; homework, family, sleep.
Again, I love your reviews. I'm glad to have influenced people into liking Scabior, and hell, I'm glad you like how I write his character. I somehow feel like he's not quite to-character, but then again, he's kind of not in his element anymore, either...
Riley blew a stray piece of hair out of her face, struggling with the steaming coffee machine. Weeks ago, it began spewing a bright purple liquid instead of coffee, and whistling some Weird Sisters song. She had gotten a new one to replace it, but considering things like that don't just happen, she had to find out why. She blamed the instinct that had gotten her into the ranks of the Aurors, the instinct that made her question everything. She wanted to know why the hell it would be a good idea to put a curse on a frigging kitchen appliance.
"This is what I get for buying it at an estate sale…" She muttered. "Maybe I should turn this thing over to the Ministry and let them figure it out."
She stood from her place on the floor behind the counter, brushing her hands off on her black apron. She replaced her wand in the holster on her hip, the one thing she kept from her old profession.
The small place had begun to thin out, a few stray groups sitting around. She had given the walls a nice cream color, dark tables and chairs furnishing the store. There were a few frames articles from the Prophet, mostly about Potter and the end of the war. Other frames contained a few small portraits she had picked up. The larger sitting area that had a couch and coffee table had a Persian rug (expensive and Muggle, since it was difficult finding carpets that didn't fly in the Wizarding realm).
This peace never lasted long though. She often had to put up with the rush of people coming home and needing a quick cup of coffee or dessert for dinner. It created a very long queue in the last hour of being open.
Riley had already spotted one regular walking through the door. It didn't take long for many of the others to follow.
Basic cups of coffee, shots of espresso ground from magically enhanced beans, chocolate shavings, whipped cream, caramel, foam milk. Drinks that took longer than a minute were always done with a flick of her cherry wood and dragon-heartstring wand, creating a separate line and allowing her to deal with customers in a timely fashion. She nabbed their food orders by hand and fixed their basic coffee orders in the same way.
She had three people left when Scabior walked in around twenty past five. She never expected him to be prompt anyway.
He stood on the line like all of the others. He had replaced his plaid pants some months ago, and today wasn't any different. He wore dark, well-fitting jeans; she felt a flush across her face when she found herself thinking how nice they looked on him.
She finished the orders in front of him, handing a pumpkin pasty latte with a shot of espresso to the last person on the line.
Scabior stared at the menus. There were simple orders; coffee, hot chocolate, tea of all different flavors. Then there were pumpkin pasty lattes, cinnamon-spice chi, other drinks only available behind the barrier of Diagon Alley. She had caldron cakes (homemade, he noted), actual pumpkin pasties, cookies, brownies whose chocolate was derived from chocolate frogs, apples covered in caramel or chocolate. And…ooh, was that cheesecake?
"What would you do it I made a very complicated order?" He leaned on the counter, one hand on the surface, the other in his jacket pocket.
"I would say that you don't seem to have very particular tastes in food."
"Which you'd be a bit right. 'ow 'bout some of those caldron cakes an' an Irish coffee?"
She held out her arms, hands palms up. "Do I look like I sell alcohol?"
He patted his jacket, where an inside pocket held a flask of whiskey. "No. Worth a shot though. I've got some of my own."
She rolled her eyes and set about getting his cakes and coffee. Placing a mug on the counter and a plate holding two caldron cakes, she put the order into the register.
"Two galleons and eleven sickles."
His eyes grew a bit wide. "I 'ave to pay? I-I'm your friend…"
"We've met twice. Once wasn't for conversation. I hardly consider you a friend when I know nothing about you other than your prowess in the bedroom. So if you want these delicious things…" She pulled them back towards her, "you'll cough up the two galleons and eleven sickles."
He pouted, forking over the coins and then finding himself a table.
The hell…? Did he really expect to get them for free? She thought.
Biting into the caldron cake, he watched Riley take out the drawer of the register, taking it into the back to count the amount. He pulled out the flask in his jacket, pouring the Firewhiskey into the coffee.
Scabior couldn't help but think it strange how he was making an effort to see her. He had cut off all of his ties to his previous life in order to stay alive. But she was a link back to it; was that it? He wanted part of the life he'd never get back….?
He hardly ever saw the women he slept with again. There was the long term relationship before his time in Azkaban, but she was killed a year into his sentence. The only exceptions were Riley, and the Knockturn Alley prostitutes. He had been subject to a lot of public slapping (although they never said his name aloud, they weren't stupid enough to involve Aurors in their affairs since prostitution wasn't exactly legal).
Riley came back out from the back office, flicking her wand at the bar behind the counter; the coffee machine emptied itself, mugs cleaned themselves and danced back onto their shelves.
She shut the blinds with swift movements, and turned off the lights in the front of the shop. Making her way back to the counter, which she spelled clean, she nabbed a piece of the cheesecake in the display.
"Come on, you can come upstairs. I have to lock up." She had a finger in her mouth, licking off whatever confectionary thing ended up on it. It wasn't a seductive act; she had her eyes off to the side, focusing on her own thoughts.
He followed her out of the shop and into the Alley, one caldron cake left and a full mug of coffee. She locked the shop door and stepped over to the stoop and the red door, opening it and holding it open for her guest.
"Don't touch anything on the wall to the right of the door inside the apartment. There's a single portrait stuck there from the last owner and it never shuts up if you do. Likes to think you're interested in her or something. Might have been a wife..."
They went up the stairs, the only way to continue on. Rather than going through the door that lead to the apartment right above the shop, she abruptly turned around. She looked at him with slightly wide eyes but an overall seriously expression covered her face.
"If you ever give this," she waved a finger around, pointing up, "location to anyone, namely someone that you used to snatch with, consider yourself as good as in Azkaban. Especially if I get hurt."
"You act like I'd actually let that 'appen, beautiful." He sipped the coffee casually.
"Greyback is still at large. You might not like him and never think of it, but someone else might."
"Righ', well, I'll keep that mind."
"Sarcasm noted and appreciated."
She turned back around; they were facing a small bit of railing that prevented anyone from falling off the landing. The wall up here was plaster and stone, a bit cracked in places. The stones began to shift either up or down from a certain point, leaving a slanted line. A flight of stairs, a landing and another set of stairs slid out, creating a little plaster dust in the process. The small railing in front of them slid to the left and up, elongating itself to create a handrail.
"So now all you have to do it stand here and it'll recognize you now." She began ascending, the wood squeaking in the way only old wood could.
"Wait, so, if its unplott'ble, do the others know you live 'ere?"
"They know I live upstairs. Never ask how I get there; we're all witches and wizards anyway, we all have our secret ways. I mean, outside, this level is essentially attic space. But like most living spaces in this world…"
She tapped the doorknob with her wand, and opened it, revealing the space behind the dark wood door that bore the number 21 in glistening silver.
"…everything is pretty much bigger on the inside."
And she was right. The ceilings were much higher than they looked outside, betraying the outside shape of the slanted roof. There were still skylights, which on a sunny day probably looked wonderful.
It was, for the most part, open. To the left was the kitchen, with counter seats on the other side of the kitchen sink. Behind that, a small dining table, littered with papers. Beyond, a desk and office area with a wall of huge windows; the one wall that belonged to the bedroom lined with books and boxes and picture frames. To the right, a support beam split the huge space leading into a sunken sitting area. The wall that separated this area from the bedroom was also lined with books. Full to the brim with hardcover and softcover bound pieces of literature. He spotted a few titles he didn't recognize; muggle books, he guessed. There was a radio on the small table by the wall of tall windows.
He followed the wall lined with books; the portrait was of a woman in a ridiculous fashion; corset squeezing her waist, powdered wig the size of a hippogriff, and a dress than had way too many bows on it. She was fluttering a fan in front of her as soon as Scabior had even glanced in that direction.
The color of the walls was separated by molding; the kitchen and dining area was a rich cream color, which went well with the dark cabinets. The office was a dark blue, the sitting area a pastel green.
Riley had gone into her bedroom for a moment after putting her cheesecake on a plate on the table. Figuring the kitchen was better than the sitting area for the things in his hands he went and placed them on the counter, giving a glance at the doorway. Closed.
Damn.
He heard the portrait giggle but gave it no attention. He finished his coffee and caldron cake before venturing over to the desk. There were forms for ordering things, letters, pictures. There was a picture of her on the back of a young man who was blonde and smiling. Another frame held Riley, the boy, and another girl. Somehow he got the feeling that didn't end well, even though the trio seemed happy to be in their graduation robes.
Riley came out of her room (she didn't go in there to change, he quickly figured out), and waved her wand at the table, papers sorting themselves.
"You can have a seat, you know. Just no boots on the tables." She said.
"I much prefer standin'. Been sittin' most of the day anyway."
"Just offering."
He sauntered over to where she was in the kitchen, pushing her against the counter.
"'ow old are you? You're young, you can't 'ave gotten real estate in the Alley that easily."
"I was nineteen. Turned twenty in early July. And I'll have you know, no one wanted this place. The entire Alley looked like shit because of the damage from Death Eaters and Snatchers. I haggled in order to get it down to what I could get for a loan at Gringotts."
She shifted, trying to get out from under his weight. Why was he getting all bent out of shape about this?
That familiar desire was back; his body pressing against hers, a feeling she longed for. And he knew it. She could see it in his face, he knew the power he still had over her.
"I just didn't want to be dealin' with a hypocrite. Tellin' me not to go do something when you're welcoming me into your 'ome if you're dealin' in dark stuff or somethin'."
"I'm not." She looked up at him, steel in her eyes. Stupid Snatcher. Leave it to him to think she's automatically a dealer in drugs or dark artifacts or something.
His finger found the mark on her cheek, his other hand snaking under her shirt to trace the large marks. She felt a tingling sensation, whether from the fact that she liked it or because he was the one that made the marks and they reacted, she didn't know. She controlled her breathing as best she could as he leaned in to trail kissed on her jaw.
"Good. 'Cause I'm done with that. I'm a wanted man; I can't be seen with someone likely to get caught for law-breakin'."
"I'm hardly the person to do such things."
He bit her neck, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. He made marks along the column of her neck, holding the neckline of her shirt to the side to make a nice mark in the curve.
"'ow 'bout a little fun, love?"
She didn't reply. She couldn't. Her body refused to obey her. She had wanted this again, and ached for it now. But if this was solely sex-based, there was no respect. She didn't expect a full-blown relationship, but she didn't want to be thought of as a prostitute.
"If that's what you're looking for, go to Knockturn…" Riley arched as the hand under her shirt found another mark.
"And wha' if I want you? And you can't hide that you've been wantin' this, Riley. I see it. That flicker in your eyes, that lust…" He made a movement with his hips, causing her to gasp. "…you want this." He took her jaw with his hand, a bit forcefully. "The other times are always far better than the first, beautiful."
The churning below her belly dominated her thought process, and she closed the gap between them, her lips on his.