Maura watched as Professor Sage Molette emerged from the castle with Garland Kelly beside her. Stylish as ever, the teacher began navigating the lawn in four inch heels and a pencil skirt, trying to keep the hem of her designer robes off the ground.

'You wanted me, Profess- oh Merlin!' she stopped dead in her tracks, and her heels sunk into the ground. 'Is that…?'

'Pike,' Korsak nodded grimly.

'Sage, I hear you speak Mermish?' Cavanaugh got straight to the point.

'Not really, Sir,' she shook her head. 'If you want a Mermish interpreter, you need Dylan Marwood. I can have him here within the hour.'

'Dylan Marwood?' Korsak was impressed. 'How the heck do you know Dylan Marwood? He's got a more comprehensive knowledge of Merculture than anyone on the planet!'

Sage shifted a little uncomfortably, very aware that she was within earshot of a crowd of students. 'We're seeing each other.'

'What? I thought he had a wife?'

'Yes,' Sage tossed her hair over a shoulder and avoided eye contact. 'Had a wife.' She directed her attention back to the Headmaster. 'Do you want him, Sir?'

'I wanted the Merchieftainess up here ten minutes ago!' Cavanaugh's face had begun to morph from red to an unhealthy purple. 'Go now, Sage! I want to know what the hell a Healer was doing in my Lake!'

'What do you reckon happened?' Frankie asked Maura as they made their way down the trail to Hogsmeade.

'I really couldn't say,' Maura had been wondering the same thing herself. 'Perhaps a drowning? Though, from the state of decomposition, it looks as though his body has been submerged for a significant period. I'm not aware that he was ever listed as a missing person. It's entirely possible that this was the result of foul play.'

'But… Hogwarts is supposed to be one of the safest places in Britain,' Frankie looked around him in alarm, as though his wellbeing had just that second been thrown into jeopardy. 'Why are we allowed to just walk through the woods like this?'

'We're on the outskirts of the forest, Frankie,' Maura tried to be the voice of reason, though she was feeling somewhat uneasy herself. 'I recall my father reading that a Healing position was available at Hogwarts when he was perusing the classifieds, and that was in mid-June. If Pike's death is the result of a murder, it won't have taken place while students were occupying the castle.'

The discovery of Pike's body had put something of a dampener on what had begun as a very nice morning. The harsh call of a mangy black crow overhead served only to intensify the dark feeling settling over Hogwarts, and Maura shivered, despite her layers of clothing. Perhaps Hogsmeade would relieve the feeling; the quaint village gave her the sense she was stepping into a Christmas card, and she couldn't wait to see it in winter.

'Do you think Jane'll get to see the body?' Frankie spoke up. 'I don't think she liked Pike much.'

'It's doubtful. Professor Cavanaugh will be required to inform the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the body will be sent to St. Mungo's Hospital for autopsy. The faster it gets to the morgue, the more information they'll be able to recover.'

'You know a lot about this,' Frankie glanced at her sideways. 'You know a lot about everything.'

'It isn't possible to know about everything, Frankie!' Maura protested, though there was a smile on her face. 'The subject interests me, is all.'

'Death interests you?'

'More the notion that a person can give you answers even after they're deceased. Sometimes a dead body can even give you more answers than a live one.'

'I guess I never thought about it like that,' Frankie glanced skyward in contemplation. 'Aw, crap,' he whined as a rain drop burst on his nose. 'I swear the sky wasn't this grey five minutes ago.'

'Perhaps heels weren't the best idea after all,' Maura bit her lip as she glanced down at her choice of footwear. Raindrops were falling faster, and the ground beneath them would be well and truly sodden by the time they reached the village.

'Just take them off!' Frankie laughed, bouncing a few steps ahead of her, wanting to break into a run for cover.

Maura was about to dismiss the idea as ridiculous when a series of raindrops made their way into her shoe in quick succession, instantly thieving the friction she needed to achieve any kind of sophisticated stride. She knew it was hopeless: her feet would be wet and making unattractive squelching noises all the way to Hogsmeade if she tried to keep this up. It would be worse, too, once they lost the cover of the forest canopy.

'Okay, okay,' she acquiesced, and Frankie gave a cheer as she bent to slip them off. She wondered briefly what Jane would have made of this situation. Jane would probably have offered her a piggyback, and the thought made her break into a grin.

'What are you smiling about?' Frankie asked curiously.

'Nothing,' Maura answered without thinking, trying to swallow her smile. But then came the tingling of impending hives on her neck, and she cursed internally. 'Just… I was thinking about… a nice idea crossed my mind,' she corrected, hoping that would be sufficient to keep the reaction at bay.

'Was it about a boy?' Frankie pressed, teasingly.

'No,' Maura said confidently. 'It was definitely not about a boy.' She anchored her handbag to her side, and got a better grip on the pair of shoes dangling in her left hand. She hadn't walked outside barefoot for a long time, probably not since exploring with Ian. The feeling of nature underfoot was almost like rediscovering a treasure she had once tucked away in a secret hiding spot and forgotten about, and she darted past Frankie in a sudden surge of giddiness. 'Aren't you coming?' she called over her shoulder with a laugh.

Frankie shook his head in mild disbelief before hiking his rucksack further up his back and running after her. Maura sure had relaxed a lot since he met her that first day on the Hogsmeade station platform. It was probably Jane, he reasoned. Jane was indifferent to so many people that when you were in her good books, she somehow managed to make you feel special just by giving you the time of day. And judging by the amount of time Jane gave to Maura, Maura's name must have filled at least a dozen pages in that book.

With the falling rain, most of the students who had been enjoying the grounds had retreated back into the castle. Jane, however, was high in the sky, flying through falling rain in her quidditch goggles. Rowan had put them through their warm-up drills, and now they were playing a game of half pitch. Their quidditch cloaks were supposed to be waterproof, but the kit had been passed down so many generations of Gryffindors that they had lost any kind of water-repellent properties they'd once possessed. Korsak had been promising for months to re-charm them, or see if there was enough gold in the budget to buy a new team kit, but apparently quidditch was on the "non-urgent" list, because nothing had been done.

Jane cursed the professor as she felt rain seeping into her quidditch jersey, and clinging wetly to her back, sending a cascade of goosebumps up to her shoulders and down her arms. She ducked suddenly as a bludger whizzed through the space her head had occupied seconds before. In half pitch, she was pitted against her fellow Gryffindor Beater, Joren Baker, and when she turned in the direction the bludger had come from, she saw him sighing with relief that it hadn't knocked her out. The goggles cut out a decent chunk of her peripheral vision, meaning that during rainy conditions like this, she had to make comically wide turns on her broom to scan for bludger attacks.

'Sorry!' she heard Joren call as she sped after the ball to whack it back at him.

'Don't worry about it!' she yelled back, but a gust of wind scooped up her voice and sped out of the grounds with it.

'Jane! Joren!' Rowan yelled as she dodged Bek and hurled the quaffle to Andreas to have a shot at goal. 'Belle's going to release the other bludger!'

Jane gripped her broom handle tight in her right hand as she braced herself against the impact of Joren's bludger, swinging her left arm out in a wide arc to throw the ball on a new course.

'Nice, Rizzoli!' Ruddy called as he intercepted Andreas' quaffle, and watched the bludger sail in a near-perfect arc over the centre of play.

'Not so bad yourself,' she nodded at the ball he had nestled safely in the crook of his arm.

'Jane, on your left!' she heard Belle warn from somewhere below, and sure enough, the second bludger was rising up to meet her at quite a speed. She had barely gotten her arm back into position from belting the new bludger across the pitch to Joren when the first bludger was coming back, threatening to crash into Bek's shoulder.

'Piper!' Jane bellowed. 'Sloth grip roll, right!'

Their training must have been doing some good after all, because without question, Bek quickly rolled to the right and hung upside down on her broom as the approaching bludger shot above her and came to greet Jane's bat.

'Fuck, yes!' Rowan watched the successful manoeuvre and pumped a gloved fist in the air. 'My team is awesome!'

Their training continued this way for the next hour or so, until Rowan brought her thumb and forefinger to her mouth to give a shrill whistle, signalling the end of play. The team gathered near the ground, hovering in a circle, all of them wet through to the point of dripping, and already growing cold from the inactivity.

'That was a damn good practice,' Rowan commended them. 'Rud, your accuracy was 83% today, that's up from 80% last week. Jane, boss communication. We're finally starting to trust each other, and I think that saved Bek an injury. Belle, we played for an hour twenty. Did you get the snitch?'

The smallest player nodded, shivering. 'Twice, each time with a sixty second head start.'

'Great,' Rowan nodded encouragingly. 'Jane and Joren, you're each doing really well. I know it's almost impossible to practice it during half pitch, but I want to see if your teamwork's up to scratch. Next week you'll be working on your Dopplebeater Defence. Same for us Chasers: Body Blows and Reverse Passes, and I'm game for a Dionysus Dive if the weather's not pissing on us. Ruddy, next week I want you to have a go at Starfish and Stick, and Belle, Wronski Feint. It's going to be Quidditch Tactic Tuesday.'

'I'm going to get smacked in the gut,' Ruddy groaned. 'You guys better be gentle while I'm learning.'

'No promises,' Rowan grinned wickedly. 'Jane, can you help me with the gear box? And Bek, this might be a good day to introduce the team to the fifth floor.'

Jane watched Bek make meaningful eye contact with Rowan, and give a grin.

'What's on the fifth floor?' Jane asked, as she and Rowan lugged the gear box into the equipment shed.

'Just you wait, Baby Beater,' Rowan panted as they heaved the box onto a shelf. 'It'll more than make up for training in the rain, I promise you.'

'That's all she can tell us?' Cavanaugh was furious. 'They just found a body this morning and threw it ashore?'

'It was an act of goodwill,' Dylan Marwood glared at the headmaster from his crouched position in the lake. 'Merpeople have domesticated Grindylow and Hippocampi, and this body provides a source of meat for them. Merchieftainess Murcus has done you a service by sparing it for a ceremonial burial. Something,' he struggled to keep his voice even, 'that she is not obligated to do by law, or by morality, given the Merpeoples' beast status.'

The headmaster stood with Professor Korsak and several representatives from the Ministry of Magic and St. Mungo's Hospital. Professor Molette stood to the side, watching the Healers prepare Pike's body for transportation.

Cavanaugh's eye twitched. 'Why wasn't the body found earlier?'

'How is it that you did not come across this human before today?' Dylan asked politely in Mermish. 'He has been missing for some months. We want to know if he has spent all that time in your Lake.'

He bent to submerge his head beneath the water to hear the Merchieftaness's reply. It was a somewhat tiresome ritual of communication, and perhaps one of the bigger factors contributing to the lack of Mermish speakers in the world. But, in the same way that Dylan could not speak under the water, Murcus could not speak above the water. At the very least, he'd grown very good at holding his breath for lengthy periods.

He rose from the water once more, gasping slightly for the want of oxygen. 'She says her people have in their possession a single item that might help in your investigation. She will agree to surrender it, but only at the guarantee that her colony will not be cast in a negative light as the result of your findings, whatever they may be. She says the Headmaster looks angry, and she would like a promise that her village will remain intact, and that her people will be not be evicted from the Lake.'

Cavanaugh scoffed. 'And invite more bad press? I've got no intention of evicting the mermaids, or making out like they offed my Healer. Tell her to get whatever it is she's got.'

'The Headmaster says you need not be concerned. You've done nothing wrong, and as such there is no need to fear retribution. His anger stems from a lack of control. He would be honoured if you surrendered the item that may be of use to us. If you are willing to provide a statement thereafter, we will trouble you no further.'

Murcus gave a nod, and disappeared into the lake. After ten minutes she emerged and threw a heap of waterlogged material ashore. The Ministry of Magic officials came forward to collect their final statements, and preserve the evidence.

'We remain highly appreciative of your cooperation,' Dylan bowed his head slightly. 'Should any further evidence find its way to you, please do not hesitate to inform the Headmaster.'

Murcus sent a light sprinkling of water at Dylan with a flick of her tail, a sign of respect, and then sent a large torrent of water at Professor Cavanaugh and the Ministry officials, an obvious sign of disdain, before disappearing for the last time.

'What the bloody hell was that for?' Cavanaugh wiped his purple face dry with the inside of his robes.

'You offended her,' Dylan came ashore, dripping. 'Merculture is incredibly intricate, and while you may think Merpeople are lacking in intelligence, they detect human social cues with apparent ease. You were rude and accusatory,' he turned to make his way into the castle with Sage. 'I'm surprised she agreed to cooperate at all.'

Cavanaugh's nostrils flared, but he turned to the men and women from the Ministry to discuss their plan of attack. The Hogwarts grounds had not been breached since Voldemort had fallen, and Pike's death seemed to be indicating an enormous gap in security. 'Bad news,' he muttered under his breath. 'Bad fucking news.'

'Spin around,' Maura instructed, making a twirling motion with her finger.

Frankie did as he was told, arms stuck out rigidly at 45 degree angles.

'Yes,' Maura nodded with certainty. 'I like this one. It fits better than the other two, and it's only a sickle more expensive. 'Would you prefer a neck tie, or a bow tie?'

'No preference,' Frankie began unbuttoning the plain black waistcoat. 'Whatever you think's better.'

'Hmm… bow tie,' Maura decided, making her way to the far corner of Gladrag's to browse their range. 'It's very hard to put one of those on backwards.'

'Thanks for reminding me,' Frankie deadpanned, joining her at the display.

'I'm going to turn your fastenings silver,' Maura took the waistcoat folded over Frankie's arm to show him, 'and I've got a piece of chain to make it look like you've got a pocket watch. So choose a silver bow tie, patterned if you like. I'm going to enquire if they carry pocket squares.'

She approached the haberdashery counter, and placed the waistcoat neatly next to the register. She peered into the glass case underneath the counter and located what she wanted. 'I'll take this, that silver pocket square, and can you ring up a bow tie, please?' she asked the clerk, who was looking exceedingly elegant in yellow paisley robes with matching headwear that resembled a doctoral graduation cap. He looked to be around sixty, and had a pair of spectacles hanging on a chain around his neck.

'Excellent taste, m'dear,' he regarded her purchases approvingly. 'For you?'

'For my friend,' she indicated Frankie in the corner, who was still gazing over the bow tie selection. 'He has a wedding to attend this weekend.'

'It looks like he's in fine hands,' the man smiled.

'Do you… often… have women buying waistcoats?' Maura ventured cautiously.

'Most women buying traditionally male attire are doing so on behalf of their husbands, sons, or male companions,' the clerk folded the item neatly and placed it in a bag. 'But women shopping in this section for themselves is not unheard of. A Hogwarts girl was in here just last week in fact, enquiring about a femininely cut tuxedo she might wear to the Noel Ball this year.'

'Mel Gaynor?' Maura guessed.

'Melanie, yes,' the man smiled. 'Do you know her? I'm so pleased she and Katie have finally made their feelings known to the world.'

'No, I'm afraid I know almost nothing about her,' Maura shook her head apologetically. 'My friend's Quidditch captain is friends with a girl whose boyfriend has a mutual friend with Katie.'

'A long winded six degrees of separation!' the man chuckled. 'My dear, what is your name, if I may ask?'

'Maura,' she answered, digging into her purse to place four galleons on the counter.

'Maura,' he repeated, putting her money into the register and scooping up a collection of sickles and knuts for her change. 'My name is Ivor. Maura, if you're ever in need of custom made clothing, come and see me. I am trained in tailoring, and I know a man very well who works as a clothing and textile merchant. Give me a week's notice, and I can get you a selection of fabrics from India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, tribal designs from Africa if you need, hand-woven cloth from tribes in the depths of the Amazon if you can afford it.'

'Nepal?' she queried. 'I doubt I could pull it off, but I've always loved Nepalese design.'

'Absolutely!' Ivor exclaimed enthusiastically. 'And, my dear, I have trouble believing there's anything you couldn't pull off. This pumps-leggings-off the shoulder knit-coat combination is delicious!'

She laughed, failing to sense a scrap of threat from his comments. 'Well, thank you! I'll put you at the top of my list for fabric help in future.'

'Mighty pleased to hear it,' he handed her the Gladrags Wizardwear bag. 'If your friend is having trouble selecting a bow tie, might I recommend a paisley pattern in his colour of choice? One can never go wrong with paisley.'

Jane and Rowan had ascended to the fifth floor, broomsticks in hand, having left a giveaway trail of drips all the way from the atrium. Rowan strode up to a statue of Boris the Bewildered and after a brief look left and right, confidently said 'Frangipani.'

A door to the left of the statue opened, and Rowan beckoned Jane inside. 'Welcome,' she grinned, 'to the prefects' bathroom.'

'Holy shit,' Jane gaped, walking down a few steps and seeing her five other team mates soaking in a pool-like bathtub, filled with bubbles and steaming from the warmth. There were ornate, arched stained glass windows at the far end of the room, and everywhere she looked was shining gold and polished marble. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rowan lean her broom up in a corner, and pull her goggles off her head. Then she proceeded to discard her arm guards, gloves, knee and shin guards, boots, cloak, quidditch jersey, pants, and singlet, and made a tidy, shallow dive into the bathtub in just a sports bra and underwear.

'Heaven,' she sighed, treading water in the centre. 'You coming in?' she flexed her neck to look at Jane.

Jane realised she'd been staring at Rowan's mostly-naked body; the Silk-Ashby girls were certainly well endowed in the chest department. She quickly turned around to hide her blush, and find a space to put her things. 'You bet,' she pulled at the ties on her cloak.

Five minutes later, Jane slipped into the tub in a racer back sports bra and a pair of compression shorts, feeling extraordinarily self-conscious. Her period had seemingly stopped that morning, but what if it was just lulling her into a false sense of security, and preparing to gush a waterfall out of her?

'Woah!' Ruddy gave a low whistle. 'Check out the abs on Jane!'

'I don't have abs!' she sunk lower beneath the water.

'Sure you do!' Rowan backed up to a tap and let hot water run over her shoulders. 'And since you've got it, flaunt it!'

'How many of us are actually allowed to be in here?' Jane quickly changed the subject.

'Prefects, school heads, and quidditch captains,' Ruddy began to fashion himself a beard using bubbles. Bek's a prefect, Andreas is a prefect, Joren's a prefect, and Rowan, obviously, is a captain. Which means you, I, and Belle are the illegals amongst a bunch of desperate over achievers.'

'Is that... jealousy I detect, Pearson?' Bek teased, beginning to massage shampoo into her hair.

'So incredibly jealous,' Ruddy nodded. 'What are the odds that Susie Chang'll walk in here? I'd love to give her a big, wet hug.'

'Minimal,' Joren advised. 'She doesn't slow down long enough to take a bath. She takes in-and-out showers, and doesn't usually bother coming all the way down here from Ravenclaw Tower just to wash her hair.'

'Check out the Susie Chang profiling on Joren!' Andreas laughed. 'Bit of a crush there, bro?'

'She's the most intelligent person I've ever met!' he defended.

'Evidently you haven't met Maura,' Jane said without thinking. When six heads instantly turned her way, she wished she'd never spoken.

'Hmm, yeah, what's the deal there?' Rowan was looking at her as though she was an ice cream sundae in the middle of summer. If Jane hadn't known already, that look alone would have convinced her beyond a shadow of a doubt that Rowan and Runa were sisters: both of them got that excited, hungry look in their eyes when it came to relationship gossip.

'What do you mean?' she asked, a little nervously.

'You guys are like, friends on steroids,' Ruddy commented.

Bek smiled. 'You should have seen her when we told her you were in the Hospital Wing last week. She ran like she was on fire.'

'Do you like her?' Rowan asked eagerly. 'Like, do you have a crush? Do you want to date her?'

'Or are you already dating her?' Joren beat Ruddy to it.

Belle spoke up for the first time since Jane had entered the room. 'I think you're cute together,' she shyly encouraged.

'I…' Jane was completely overwhelmed. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. 'We're just friends! We aren't… she isn't… I'm not… we haven't even… Just friends!'

'Tell us when you're ready,' Rowan gave a wink.

'What would their couple name be?' Bek mused allowed.

'Jaura,' Andreas tested. 'No. Mane?'

'Terrible,' Bek shook her head. 'What's her surname?'

'Isles,' Jane mumbled.

'Iszoli. No,' he made sudden eye contact with Bek.

'Rizzles!' they said in unison.

'Oh, too perfect!' Rowan began to clap her hands, but stopped when she saw the look of utter distress on Jane's face. 'Okay team,' she quickly moved on to a new subject. 'I'm calling a few rounds of bathtub gladiator! Bek versus Andre, on Rud and Jo. Belle's refereeing.'

The team splashed into position, Joren ducking under the water for Bek to sit on his shoulders, and Ruddy doing the same for Andreas. The game was essentially wrestling, played until the upper player of one team was in the water. Belle was there to call penalties for face shots and boob grabs, and each two-person gladiator waited for her to call play.

She did, and within seconds, the water was flying. Bek's tactics were usually to get her hands on her opponent's shoulder blades and pull them forward, but Andreas had been warned about her signature move, and was busy making defensive blocks with his forearms. Ruddy had assumed a slightly crouched position, trying to give Andreas a strong foundation, whereas Joren kept moving around to get Bek a better angle, making them sway and resemble the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Rowan, meanwhile, had backstroked over to Jane, who was trying very hard to not make eye contact with anybody, but still look interested in the game. 'Hey,' she greeted softly. 'Sorry about all that before; we were just teasing.'

Jane shot her a mixed look, a tangled mess of panic, anger, confusion, and fear.

'I know you think I'm a gossip, and a loudmouth,' Rowan acknowledged. 'And hell, I probably am, but I can keep a secret. If you're trying to figure stuff out, and don't have anybody to talk to, I'm here, if you want.' She shrugged, and then waded towards the game. 'Left side, Andre!' she called. 'Look, she's wide open!'

'You paid for my stuff?' Frankie's eyebrows shot up his forehead as he and Maura exited the store with his new clothing. 'You didn't need to do that! My Ma's going to flip!'

'I wanted to do it, Frankie,' Maura handed him the bag. 'I have more than adequate gold; it was just a few galleons.'

'Yeah, but-'

'You and Jane have been incredibly kind to me since I moved to England,' Maura cut him off. 'I'm very happy to be able to give a little back. Here, we'll take off the tags and vanish the shopping bag. If your mother asks, tell her… that they were given to you by an older student. That's certainly not a lie.'

'I don't know,' Frankie scratched the back of his head. 'I feel bad…'

'You can buy me a butterbeer later if you like,' Maura smiled. 'We still have a few hours until we need to be at The Three Broomsticks. Shall I show you around Hogsmeade? I'd like to visit The Magic Neep, to see if they have some strawberries for Bass. There's a joke shop I think you'll like, and a wonderful sweetshop called Honeydukes.'

He gave an eager nod, and the two started down the cobbled street. 'What's Madam Puddifoot's?' Frankie asked. 'I heard some guys in my common room laughing about it last week.'

'A tea shop,' Maura answered. 'Frequented by couples who want to display their affection publicly.'

'Have you been in?'

'Certainly not! And I don't imagine that will change in the near future.'

'Crap, crap, crap,' Jane muttered under her breath as she dashed from the Great Hall with a salad sub in one hand. She was running horrendously late. Andreas had managed to topple Bek from Joren's shoulders, and Jane had been his next challenge.

'She definitely has abs,' Joren had grinned. 'I can feel them on the back of my head.'

Bathtub gladiator had gone on for a while, and time had run away from them. By the time the team had wrapped themselves in towel robes and gone up to the Gryffindor common room with armfuls of soggy Quidditch gear, it was 1.30pm, and Jane only had thirty minutes to get dressed and meet her mother in Hogsmeade.

She had rushed around the dormitory, pulling on a pair of jeans, a jersey, a coat, a pair of sneakers, and then throwing items for the weekend into a bag: wedding outfit, travel cloak, hairbrush, mint humbugs, Muggle Studies assignment, pyjamas. She dumped her Quidditch kit into the laundry bag in the bathroom, and was about to dash down the stairs when she realised there was a faster way to travel.

And that is how Jane came to be speeding along the path to Hogsmeade on her broomstick, a canvas duffle bag slung securely over her shoulder, her hair a shaggy mess from the bath, and attempting to eat a sandwich as the wind and rain sailed past her. She was just three minutes late as the path turned into High Street, and she dismounted smoothly - even lateness did not excuse flying through village streets. She was about to dash for cover to get out of the rain when a homeless looking man shuffled into view. He wore a tattered cloak, a grubby Hufflepuff beanie, and an ancient pair of quidditch gloves Jane would have tossed in the garbage long ago. Actually, they may have come from exactly there.

'Hey, Vanilla,' he called out, bee lining towards her. 'You gonna eat the rest of that tasty looking sandwich?'

'What did you just call me?' Jane's mouth dropped open.

'Vanilla,' he answered, eyeing the half-eaten sub. 'On account of your skin being all creamy-like. I love me some vanilla. But you and I probably wouldn't work out in the long term.'

'Yeah, I hear it's hard to maintain a relationship from Azkaban,' she shot him a disgusted look. 'I'm thirteen. Who the hell are you?'

'Raymond Washington, at your service,' he pulled off his beanie in an attempted gesture of respect. 'But you can call me Rondo. And I don't let just anybody call me that.'

'And you want my sandwich?'

He nodded thoughtfully at her, not caring about the rain whatsoever. 'I'm also looking for some information. A little… investigation, you feel me?'

Jane rolled her eyes. 'Investigating what?'

'A few weeks ago, somebody stole my sleeping rug from outside the Hog's Head. Best rug I ever got my hands on; no holes or nothing! I been sleeping on Daily Prophets ever since, but they been gettin' real soggy with this rain. You know anything about my rug?'

Jane's stomach dropped a few inches. That must have been the rug Frost found next to the bins!

'Nothing,' she shook her head quickly. 'And I… I've got to go. Meet my Ma. Here,' she tossed the rest of her sandwich to him, and dashed down the street to Rosmerta's inn. She made it to The Three Broomsticks ten minutes late, and found her Ma with Frankie, sitting opposite Maura in a booth.

'Janie! There you are! I was getting worried!' Angela immediately stood up to envelop her eldest in a bone crushing hug, before stepping bag to survey her at arm's length. 'You're soaking! And you look thin. Have you lost weight? Are you eating?'

'Ma! You're embarrassing me!' she squirmed away from her mother and slid into the booth to sit next to Maura, looking slightly affronted. 'Yes, I'm eating plenty. I even ate half a lemon meringue pie last night for dessert.'

'You must be having a growth spurt,' Angela said decidedly. 'Did you brush your hair today?'

'Yes! In the morning. But I just got out of a bath, like, half an hour ago. And then I flew here, and it turned into this,' she indicated the bird's nest with a casual wave of her hand.

'Brush it again, Janie, it looks terrible. Do you want a drink? I'll get you a butterbeer.'

Angela bustled off with a jingling coin purse, and Jane turned to Maura with an apologetic look. 'I see you've met my mother… Sorry for whatever's she's done to you already. She gets kinda overbearing.'

Maura smiled around her straw, taking a sip of bubble juice. 'She's been very kind. It's clear she cares about you an awful lot.'

'Cares about me too much,' Jane corrected. 'Frankie, has she done anything embarrassing?'

'Oh, just the usual,' he shrugged. 'Grilled me on my love life, grilled me on your love life, put her spit in my hair to try and make it lie flat, gushed over how pretty Maura is, and then had a rant about how you're never punctual.'

'Why is everybody so damn interested in my life love today?' Jane huffed under her breath. 'What'd you tell her?'

He frowned. 'Nothing. Didn't think there was anything to tell. Is there?'

'Nope,' Jane shook her head with certainty. 'Absolutely not. Can I try some of that?' she turned to Maura, indicating her drink.

Maura nudged the glass towards Jane. 'By all means.'

Jane bent to sniff it, not totally trusting Maura's taste in beverages. 'It's not gillywater or some other shit that's usually followed by cucumber sandwiches on the menu, is it?'

'No, it's bubble juice. The taste is said to be an intermediate between grape juice and aloe vera juice, though strangely, the aftertaste often gives me the distinct impression of tapioca. It's very sweet; you'll like it.'

'Why's it called bubble juice?'

'You'll see.'

Jane took a sip, and her eyes widened a little as a thousand miniature bubbles danced along her tongue. 'Oh!' she exclaimed. 'Ma used to give this to us when we were little! We called it juju juice, though.'

'Juju juice?'

'Yeah, you know, Gypsies have bad juju and good juju? Juju's luck, and Ma said drinking juju juice would make us lucky.'

'I lied,' Angela returned from the bar, sliding a bottle of butterbeer over to Jane. 'Bubble juice is known in mothering circles as paediatric veritaserum. I used it to find out who really started the fight, and who broke my windows, and who invited the garden gnome inside, and who sent Antonio off to Leeds with letters that just said "Hi".'

'You drugged us into telling the truth?!' Frankie gaped next to his mother.

'Of course I did! You three were holy terrors when you were younger. It's only since Janie went off to Hogwarts that things have started to calm down.'

Jane was glancing sideways at Maura, waiting for her to question the existence of a third sibling, but she looked surprisingly nonplussed, and failed to question it.

'Do you have any brothers or sisters, Maura?' Angela asked.

'Not that I know of,' she shook her head.

Jane snorted. 'What do you mean "that you know of"? I think you'd know!'

'I'm adopted,' she explained. 'So it's entirely plausible that I have biological half-siblings that I don't know about.'

'What?' Jane was flabbergasted. 'Seriously? You never told me that!'

Maura gave a half smile and shrugged. 'It never came up.'

Angela surveyed her daughter and her daughter's friend from across the table. She had only come to know about Maura's existence from several fleeting mentions of her in Jane's letters. She was glad Jane was finally making friends with some other females. That boy, (what was his name? Snow?) who Jane hung around with at school was nice enough, but he certainly wasn't encouraging her femininity. Seeing the girls side by side gave Angela a perfect view of their stark contrasts: there sat Jane, reclined in her seat as much as the booth would allow, wild hair mussed beyond easy repair, swigging carelessly from a bottle, not wearing a stitch of makeup, and dressed so casually she almost could have been going to bed. Maura, on the other hand, sat with a straight back, was dressed impeccably, wore tastefully light makeup and outfit-coordinated jewellery, took polite sips of her drink, and had a beautiful smile she offered up ten times more willingly than Jane ever would.

'Well, whoever raised you, I can already tell they did a stellar job,' Angela praised the girl. She was pleased with this friendship. Surely at least a little of Maura's grace would rub off on her own daughter, and then she might finally get some more attention from the opposite sex. 'Jane, honey,' she shifted her eyes just in time to see her trying to keep in a burp, 'I don't think you're going to get much opportunity for flying this weekend,' she indicated Jane's broomstick. 'Besides, we're not supposed to be exposing those sorts of things to the Muggle eye.'

'Yeah, I know, I was kinda hoping… Maur'd take it back for me?' she turned to her friend with a comically hopeful smile. 'You can ride it if you want. Just don't fly into any tree branches; I spent two hours last week buffing and polishing the handle.'

'Uh, yes, okay,' Maura agreed reluctantly.

'She might go a bit faster than what you're used to,' Jane advised. 'If you ride side saddle she'll slow down for you, though. What'd you guys get up to this morning?'

'Oh, a little window shopping, a little actual shopping. I showed Frankie around some of the more popular stores…'

'Zonko's is so great!' Frankie piped up from his seat. 'Have you seen those nose-biting tea cups?'

'Sure have. I spent a good twenty minutes one visit trying to get it to bite Anna and make it look like an accident.'

'…Honeydukes, Scrivenshafts…'

'Scrivenshafts is NOT a popular store!'

'Everybody needs quills, Jane!' Maura protested. 'And we stopped by The Magic Neep, but they're fresh out of strawberries again!'

'What a travesty!'

'You're mocking me,' Maura folded her arms and looked in the opposite direction, feigning offence.

'A little bit,' Jane nodded with a cheeky grin. She leaned sideways slightly to bump shoulders with Maura. 'Sorry. If I see any in London I'll buy you some.'

'We've got to go, kids,' Angela checked her watch. 'Maura, I'm sorry to leave you so soon, but I need to see about getting some return tickets for these two, and then we need to board our train,' Angela stood up and although she hadn't eaten, brushed imaginary crumbs from the front of her robes. 'It was so lovely to meet you.'

'Likewise,' Maura smiled, sidling out of the booth after Jane. 'Enjoy your weekend,' she turned to her friend.

As Jane was shouldering her bag and mentally preparing to put her precious racing broom in Maura's care, Maura stepped forward for a goodbye hug, surprising them both. Instead of going rigid like she normally would at an unexpected hug, Jane found her arms wrapping around Maura's shoulders of their own accord, in automatic response to Maura's arms encircling her waist.

'Don't feel self-conscious in the dress,' Maura whispered in Jane's ear with a smile. 'It looks wonderful on you!' She gave Jane a quick squeeze and then stepped back, taking the broom from her.

'I'll… uh, see you Monday?' Jane looked to be suddenly in another world.

'Mhmm,' Maura nodded. 'Or maybe Tuesday morning, if you get back late. Safe travels!'

She stood and watched Angela usher her children out of the inn, and felt very out of place holding a racing broom, particularly given her current outfit.

'Maura, darlin'? That you?' came from a voice behind her, and she turned on her heel to see Madam Rosmerta coming out from behind the bar, holding an empty tray to collect dirty vessels left over from the lunch rush.

'You remember me!' Maura smiled in surprise.

Madam Rosmerta winked. 'I never forget a pretty face. I see you've been deserted; take a seat at the bar if you like, I'll fix you something to eat.'

Maura agreed to her offer, and watched as Rosmerta cleared a few nearby tables. Today she wore parachute pants, a white tunic, and a vest fashioned from some variety of animal skin. Her honey coloured ringlets were pulled up in a loose bun, and Maura couldn't help but think of how fascinating her wardrobe must be.

'Now,' Rosmerta returned behind the bar. 'Tell me if I'm wrong, but you seem like a salad kind of a girl. Remember we do wedges with sour cream and sweet chilli. And nachos, and open steak sandwiches, and paninis…'

'Salad would be lovely,' Maura smiled.

'Garden salad? Caesar salad? Quinoa salad?'

'Quinoa, please.'

'Ready in five,' Rosmerta scribbled her order down on a broomstick-shaped note pad. She ripped the sheet of paper off and released it into the air, where the broomstick zoomed for the inn's kitchen.

'That's very clever,' Maura nodded in the note's direction.

'Oh, we've been using the broomstick order method since way back when,' Rosmerta waved a hand through the air. 'You know what people say: "I remember when there was just One Broomstick!". Can't tell you how many times I've heard that one!'

Maura laughed. 'How long have you been the proprietor?'

'Oh, it'd give away my age if I told you that! Inn keeping's been my life. Refill?'

'No, thank you.'

'You sure? I've got pomegranate juice.'

'Well, in that case… perhaps I will, yes please.'

Madam Rosmerta grinned. 'I see you're meeting the parents already. Brave of you.'

'What do you mean?' Maura frowned.

'That was Jane's mother you were sitting with, wasn't it?'

'Angela, yes. She's come to collect Jane and her brother for a wedding in London.'

'And she's happy about your relationship?'

'I'm sure she's not unhappy that her daughter has friends…'

'Of course not,' Rosmerta shook her head in surprise. 'I'm sorry, I was under the impression you two were more than that.'

'As in dating?' Maura choked out a surprised laugh. 'No, nothing like that. I only met her at the beginning of September!'

'Be careful about basing your decisions on time, darlin'; it's a human invention. In my experience it's emotions you want to take the most notice of.' She gave another wink. 'Your words of wisdom for the day. Here's your drink, and here, I think, comes your meal…'

'What do I owe you?'

'On the house, honey. Say, I take it that's not your broom?'

Maura shook her head. 'Jane's. She suggested I ride it back to school, but I'm not so confident when it comes to flying.'

'Mind if I take a squizz? My other half is something of a flying enthusiast.'

'Not at all,' Maura passed the broom across the bar, noticing for the first time that Rosmerta wore a gold wedding band.

'Hey, Ro!' Rosmerta called down the corridor behind her. 'Come and check out this beauty!'

Maura heard the muffled screech of a chair scooting back across the floorboards, and then the sharp tap of boot heels were heard approaching the bar.

'Were you referring to yourself or this racing broom?' a woman with sharp features and short grey hair, styled with mousse, came into view. She was dressed almost entirely in black, and Maura's first impression was that she looked quite severe. But then she smiled at Rosmerta, and her entire face seemed to soften.

'I was talking about the broom, but I like your first guess better,' Rosmerta took a couple of steps forward to wrap an arm around the woman's waist.

'Maura, I'd like to introduce you to Rolanda Hooch; my wife.'