Awkward. There was no other way to describe this entire situation. Clarisse wanted to rip the hair off her head; a feeling that seemed to have become her greatest companion in those past few weeks. She was right when she had claimed winter to be her favourite time of the year; there was no serial killers, no ancient creatures and, most importantly, no Aedan Finley.
What was wrong with him? Why did he think that following her everywhere she went, could prove to be helpful? Okay, so maybe he didn't follow her all the time, as it would be pretty rude, even for him. But he did want to come with her to her mother's house, even after she had told him about their fight, about the delicacy of the situation at hand.
And yet, when she had emerged from her bedroom this morning, she had found him sitting on her couch, reading a book. In her house. Clarisse rarely felt at loss for words, but seeing him, dressed in a blue, perfectly tailored shirt and nice-fitted trousers, she truly couldn't be more dumbfounded. It was fairly obvious that he wanted to look dashing and her incredible mind didn't fail to connect that fact with her planned visit to her mother's house.
"Care to explain why did you decide to invade my personal space once again, dressed like you were going to a freaking charity event?" she asked after few seconds had passed and he offered her a smirk in response.
"Don't be ridiculous, Clarisse. I would wear dress robes to a freaking charity event."
"That doesn't answer my question at all," she snorted and he shrugged.
"Your observation skills are simply astounding. Are you always this bright in the morning?"
"Wouldn't you like to know." Her response contained lots of repressed anger, but judging by his vicious smirk, he noticed it anyway.
"Guess I should have stayed until you woke up on that feral day, huh?"
Did he seriously have to bring that up? Clarisse couldn't help the slight blush that appeared on her cheeks, as her mind provided her with the memories of his arms embracing her figure.
"We're not talking about that," she spat and ruffled her hair. "Why are you here?"
"I can't let you go to your mother alone. Your boss agrees with me. You're way too emotional when she's concerned and we need answers, not another set of questions, if you fail to reign in your feelings."
Every fibre of her being screamed at her, urging Clarisse to curse his stupid face off, but then he stood up and casually smoothed out the fabric of his shirt. Riss' mind went blank for a second, as her eyes took in his entire silhouette. Merlin, why did every men have to look this good in elegant, fitted clothes? Not mentioning a really handsome man, as one would have to describe Aedan Finley.
"Are you done with the staring?" Finley asked and she scowled. Damn her fuzzy, slightly sleepy brain. There was no other way to explain her sudden appreciation for that barbaric moron standing a couple of feet away.
"Yep. Blue is not really your colour," she said and headed to the kitchen, wanting to escape his nauseating smirk.
"Liar," he muttered when she brushed past him.
If she didn't know any better, she would have thought that he was trying to flirt with her, but the idea seemed so ridiculous, that Clarisse shook her head and focused on her mission; she desperately needed some coffee.
Her kitchen didn't exactly scream magic. On the contrary, Riss always appreciated Muggle appliances, to her mother's dismay. Sure, spells made everything easier, faster, but the Auror enjoyed her morning routine, consisting of preparing her coffee, just the way her father had taught her all these years ago, when she thought the drink to be repelling. Many things had changed, memories had faded, but this one... this one she treasured way too much to simply let it fade away.
She took out her glass jug and a device to filter the coffee. One of her cabinets contained small jars, filled with coffee beans that had been meticulously measured to provide her with the most aromatic drink possible. Her grinder had been already set, as she drank exactly the same coffee every single day.
"What are you doing?" Finley asked, probably leaning against the frame, as she hadn't heard his footsteps or rustling of the chairs.
"I'm dancing," she stated with irony and rolled her eyes, fully knowing that he couldn't see it. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm making coffee."
"Cool. Can I have some?"
"Nope. Don't you prefer tea, anyway?"
"Do you know that we drink other beverages as well, don't you? And I'm not British."
Clarisse ignored his stingy remark and proceeded to brew her coffee, slowly pouring the water over the grinded beans in circular slow motions. The smell of freshly brewed, strong coffee filled the room, making her skin tingle, just as it always did. Riss smiled and waited for a moment, before removing the brewing device and pouring the drink into her favourite cup.
Finley sighed behind her, realising that she had no intentions of acknowledging his request and she heard him move towards her. He stopped right behind her and muttered:
"Can I have some coffee, please? It smells delicious."
Okay, if that wasn't flirting, she had no idea what was. Did she snog him senseless in her sleep, causing him to suddenly develop some interest in her feminine side?
"Finley, you're invading my private space," she answered and took a sip from her cup. "If you want coffee, pour it yourself."
With that, she gestured towards the jug, which still contained enough liquid for another portion. Finley sighed, but moved away, looking for an empty, clean cup.
Clarisse bit the inside of her cheek, trying to find a way to convince him to leave her flat and abandon the idea of visiting her mother. She wasn't stupid enough to fail to see his reasons for wanting to come along. The idea of confronting her mother once more made her feel angry and anxious, but at the same time, Riss knew there was no way around it. Not with the theory developed during their meeting with Mr Leighton. Clarisse might have been ignorant enough to push aside every thought of her being an Oracle, but there was no denying the fact of her mother being one, or, at least, claiming to be. At this moment, the woman was their best lead and ignoring it would be plain stupid.
Still, sharing that part of her life with anyone from work seemed... inappropriate in a way. The only person who had known her enough to make Clarisse feel at ease with this entire idea, was Jacques. Her best friend. Her best friend, who continued to avoid her at all costs lately.
"You're worried." Finley's voice interrupted her internal musings, making her look at him with exasperation.
"Shouldn't you be in Scotland? You know, considering you're a professor..."
"They don't need me this much. Anyone can help the students revise the material, which I've already taught them," he shrugged and raised his brows. "I'm an Auror, my main responsibility is to catch this son of a bitch and the Headmaster understands that."
Okay, so appealing to his apparently non-existent guilt over abandoning his students wouldn't work. She had to find another way to make him leave her alone.
"Can't someone else go with me? Someone who... likes me?"
"I can't think of anyone who could meet that criterion," Finley mocked in response and she shot him a glare.
"You can't think in general. What about Ashworth? Or Fabré? Or Potter?"
"Mark had to get back to England. His wife is very pregnant and very nervous."
"Ashworth's married?!"
"Obviously," he rolled his eyes and shook his head. "That huge wedding ring on his finger should have told you that. Anyways, Fabré said that he wasn't going to come anywhere near your mother. He claimed that you are tiring on your own, but when there's two of you... He bailed."
That baboon... Count on Fabre to make her look like the biggest hag on Earth.
"Potter had just solved another big case, back in the UK, so the press is following him around, since he's... You know, the Chosen One and stuff. So that leaves me."
"No, it doesn't," she protested and looked down to her almost empty cup. "There's always Jacques. My mother knows him, at least."
"He's not an official part of our team."
"He helped before!"
"Yes, well, it's not like he did anything of importance. He just had to sit on his ass and watch over Mr Leighton."
What did he mean by that? Jacques was an Auror and he didn't lack any skills to accompany her.
"Your boss wants to make sure that nothing's missed. And, according to him, your little friend often fails to see very important details. That's how he got injured, right?"
Not the firework incident again... Clarisse often teased Jacques about his misfortune, but it didn't mean she could simply allow everyone to describe it as a mistake. Everyone could have slipped on a puddle of blood and fall into a pile of fireworks, causing his wand to release some sparkles, lighting said fireworks up. Right?
"It was bad luck," she muttered through her clenched teeth and Finley rolled his eyes.
"Whatever you say. It's not what your boss says, though, so forgive me for ignoring it completely. And now, if you could please hurry up, I don't have all day."
Clarisse fisted her hands and closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to calm her nerves. Aedan Finley could be truly infuriating; mean and rude in one second, decent in the next one. His behaviour made her so angry that she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. She couldn't though. No, Clarisse Bouchard had to admit defeat.
"I hope you're going to regret all that, after meeting my mother. Charming woman. She'll probably eat you alive," she spat and left the kitchen in long strides, ignoring Finley's quiet comment.
"No worries, I've met her daughter."
"This is your house?!" Finley asked with disbelief and then whistled loudly, making her entire body stiffen.
"No, we've just left my house. This one belongs to my mother," she corrected, ignoring the feeling of anxiety, spreading through her body.
She bloody hated that moment, when people found out about her rich upbringing. Clarisse wasn't sure why, but money seemed to change everything, especially the way people tended to look at someone with a considerable amount of funds. They became nicer, or meaner; it varied, depending on their intentions towards said person. Clarisse noticed that people either loathed her for being 'blessed', or tried to slither in her good graces, hoping to benefit from her wealth.
The woman briefly wondered which type would Finley prove himself to be, but his laid back posture told her nothing.
"Living in a mansion sucks, doesn't it?" he muttered after a while and gazed at her sideways.
"Yeah," she admitted, trying not to show surprise at his comment. "Don't know how my mother does it."
"And... your father?"
A scowl appeared on her face, clearly hinting Aedan about the mistake he'd just made. Finley cleared his throat and looked at the house once more, trying to hide his embarrassment.
"My father is kind of not in a picture anymore," she replied dryly and clicked her tongue. "And guess what? It's not your business. Unless you want to talk about yours?"
"Nope. Let's just go, huh?"
Instead of replying, she simply crossed the street, not waiting for Finley to join her. Her anxiety made her body tense, rigid almost, as she wondered about the events of the nearest hour. Would her mother even want to talk to them? Honestly, she started to wonder if she should even walk into the house. Finley wasn't that incompetent not to be able to deal with the woman on his own. Maybe she could bail out?
"Don't think about this, Clarie," Aedan whispered, joining her at the threshold and putting a hand on the small of her back, probably to prevent her escape.
"Don't call me 'Clarie'," she answered immediately and raised her hand to pull on the golden door handle.
"Shouldn't we knock? After all, it's not your house."
"Shut up."
Riss pulled the handle and walked inside, once again leaving her insecurity behind. This time, it wasn't a private visit, even if it required her to solve some personal matters first. She was here because of her work and she had to summon every ounce of her professionalism.
"Mother?" she called out, stepping into the vast living room, not surprised to see it empty.
No answer followed her question and Clarisse sighed, looking around, wondering about her mother's whereabouts.
"Damn, it's awfully quiet here," Finley muttered, making the woman snort in amusement.
"My mother silenced the clock. She hates noise."
"Then how did she manage to put up with you all this time?"
Riss shot him a glare and opened her mouth, wanting to answer his rude question, but before she could do so, another voice sounded in the room.
"Indeed. How?"
Eugenia Bouchard appeared in the room, dressed in beautiful, royal purple robes that made her look like a beautiful statue of a queen. Her light, blonde her shone bright, catching every single ray of sunlight, as her pale eyes bore into her daughter's frame with a scrutinizing look.
Suddenly, Clarisse found herself unable to speak. All of her carefully prepared words had left her mind, causing her to stare at her mother's silhouette with a dumbfounded expression. Luckily, Finley made a few steps forward and smiled brilliantly.
"Madame, I'm Auror Aeadan Finley. I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but, unfortunately, we find ourselves in a dire need of your help."
Her mother smiled back at him and extended her hand towards Finley. To Clarisse's surprise, her colleague bent down and placed a kiss on the back of Eugenia's hand, making her giggle slightly.
"Oh, such a gentleman. I learned not to expect such gestures from men, but it's always nice," she cooed and sighed pleasantly. "Please, have a sit! Can I offer you something to drink? Wine perhaps?"
"Mom, we're at work," Clarisse spoke, but her mother ignored her completely, looking at Finley.
"Um... No, thank you, Madame," he said, but after Eugenia's expression faltered a bit, he cleared his throat. "I mean, water would be nice."
"Splendid!"
The older woman left the room and Finley's gaze immediately travelled to Clarisse, who stood still near the entrance.
"She's lovely," he said and shifted on the couch, stretching his arms over the backrest, forcing Clarisse to acknowledge how ridiculously comfortable he looked. "Don't know why everyone seems to be afraid of her."
"Just give her a minute," she muttered in response and finally moved, joining him on the couch and sitting as far away as possible.
Next couple of minutes were filled with silence, which seemed to be awkward only for her. Riss tapped her foot against the marbled floor with anxiousness, while Finley watched her with a lopsided smirk that drove her crazy. He clearly enjoyed her uneasiness and she found herself in a desperate need to punch him in his handsome face.
"Here you go!" Her mother appeared again with a cheerful expression, laying a silver tray on the table.
Clarisse frowned slightly, seeing as there was only one glass of water; the remaining two drinks were definitely resembling red wine.
"Mom..." she started, but Eugenia waved her hand dismissively, not letting her continue.
"I don't think we can endure that conversation sober, pumpkin."
Aedan masked his laughter with cough, as soon as he had heard the nickname. Clarisse looked at her mother with desperation, blushing slightly at the humiliation, but Eugenia enjoyed herself too much to simply stop embarrassing her daughter.
"I can't drink right now. It's not even noon, mom!"
"We both know that you like drinking too much to care for such stupidities."
Oh, great. So now she was an alcoholic in the making?
"Unless you want to impress your boyfriend, please, drink your wine," the woman added and smiled cheerfully, while Clarisse opened her mouth in pure mortification.
"My what?! Mother, this is ridiculous, he's not my boyfriend!"
"That's right, Madame. I only work with Clarisse," Finley backed her up, completely calm and relaxed.
"I'm sorry. It's just when my daughter came here the other day, smelling faintly of male perfumes, I hoped that maybe she's finally gotten some. Now I realised that she smelled like you, but I guess it could have been a coincidence."
Silence enveloped the room, as Clarisse did her best not to die out of embarrassment, Finley looked completely baffled by her mother's statement and Eugenia smiled with satisfaction.
"We're not sleeping together," Riss finally choked out and the older woman raised her eyebrow.
"Well, you definitely slept together once. Your expressions just told me."
"We slept next to each other, not together!"
Finley scratched his head and averted his gaze, muttering something underneath his breath and making Eugenia erupt in a pearly laughter.
"Clarie, what are you, five? There's nothing wrong in admitting you like that dashing gentlemen. You've always liked tall blonds."
Aedan raised his brows, suddenly amused and Riss covered her eyes with her hand. She simply knew it. Her mother had to find a way to punish her for that memorable outburst and embarrassing her in front of a work colleague served her purpose perfectly.
"Every rule has its exception, mother. There's nothing between me and Aedan and I would appreciate if we could get to the point of our visit in your house."
"Our house, Clarie. If I die, this place goes to you. I thought you knew that?"
Merlin, why did she have to suffer through that painful experience? Why, why, why, why?
"Mom, for fuck's sake!"
"Language, pumpkin. You can have such a dirty mouth sometimes. How do you expect Aedan here to fall for you, if you talk in such unladylike way? He's going to kiss that mouth at some point."
"THAT'S IT!" Clarisse yelled and jumped to her feet.
She grabbed the glass of wine and downed it in a couple of gulps, not caring about her mother or Finley.
"I'm not doing it! I might have been rude to you, but you were the one who did wrong by me! And instead of saying that you're sorry for forcing me to experience nightmares and to sleep with him, you continue to humiliate me! Merlin, and you're wondering why I can't stand to be around you, huh?!"
Clarisse rushed to the door with her fists clenched and eyes filling with tears. She wanted to get out, nothing else. She was right when she had claimed Finley to be competent enough to conduct this interview on his own. And now, he would simply have to, because she wasn't going to stay here for another minute.
This house was probably going to become hers at one point, but how could she ever want it? After all, her good and happy memories were long gone, leaving nothing but constant humiliation and resentment. No one could live in such place. No one.
