Adding the final ingredient and swirling the cup in her hands for good measure, she closed her eyes, brought it to her nose and inhaled. She took a taste... and grinned, nodding.
"There we go!"
Ol' Tom frowned at her.
"So…" she said defensively, "this isn't as good as it usually is. Usually it's brewed in a cauldron and you're supposed to use flobberworm jelly, I had to swap that out for fish brine. Buuttt…."
She handed him the cocktail glass. He made a big point of sniffing it cautiously first, as if scared something was about to reach out and strangle him. Then slowly, and very delicately, he sipped at it.
Surprisingly, Mrs Abbott had been right yet again - she was rapidly coming to enjoy the company of this strange, elderly man. Once she defeated her bias, she found him a comforting figure, aged with wisdom and a lot more relatable than half the people she knew her age.
After what she considered an overly generous amount of time, she couldn't help herself.
"It's awesome, right?"
"Hmph…" he considered. "... ah mean, ah'll allow it. Not a cocktail man myself, but it's actually not terrible. What's it called, again?"
"Salty Surprise. We invented it in school… Don't drink too much in one go, it makes your tongue swell."
He nodded.
"Is that… fleshy taste… supposed to happen?"
"Oh, absolutely! That's the best bit!"
Ol' Tom licked his lips.
"Gorrr… it's like drinkin' a gammon joint that wants to 'urt me."
Mrs Abbott came bustling out of the kitchen and they both leapt to attention.
"Come on, come on!" she ushered them. "Tree needs to be up before the kids get home!"
Hogwarts was breaking up for Christmas today, which meant families were about to be reunited all up and down the country. These were the days that Mrs Abbott had been waiting for and, if her prediction rang true, today would be the first day of the rest of their working lives.
Despite this, the landlady had barely mentioned work all morning, as nothing seemed to be operating higher in her mind than her childrens return. Which initially, she thought was odd, then she decided to consider more carefully and realised she'd never thought much about what these holidays were from the parents' side. When their children were away they went six months without seeing them, had no control over what they did in life and couldn't do anything to protect them from the world… and slowly, she began to understand Mrs Abbotts stress.
So she and Ol' Tom leapt to work doing all that they were told. They went up ladders to hang tinsel, put green and red coasters on each and every table and hung gay knick-knacks in every spare available corner of the room. Within an hour, the dusty and decrepit interior of the Leaky Cauldron had been transformed into a variable winter wonderland. And with Hogwarts now on the mind, it brought back imagery of the dozens of Christmas trees that'd stand in the Great Hall. Where the castle was traditional and old fashioned, Mrs Abbott had gone for a colourful, family-appropriate vibe, with cartoon images of Father Christmas, his reindeer and more than a few Weasley Wizard Wheezes products scattered about.
Despite all the strife she had going on in her life, it was difficult to not feel at peace about it all.
"Oh, could one of you please charm those candles!" Mrs Abbott shouted from up the staircase.
She looked sheepishly to Ol' Tom. He nodded and, without a word, levitated them into the rafters on her behalf.
"We're done, Mrs Abbott!" she called.
The landlady rushed past her, red in the face as she threw robes on.
"Okay! Okay! I am gone, I'm not here, I'm leaving!"
At that moment there was a festive jingle, a squeak of wood and the door opened. A single patron entered, took a look at the new scenery, smiled to themselves and crossed to the bar.
"Ah… Carly, honey, could you see them, please?"
She snapped to look at her. She wasn't seriously considering leaving her alone to serve, was she?
"W-why!? Why not Ol' Tom?"
She waved her off excessively, throwing on a winter cloak over her building layers.
"Ohhh, he'll be there if you need help! Carly, honey…" she sighed. "I trust you to handle it. Do this for me, please? I believe in you."
She stared at her.
A feeling she was unfamiliar with passed over. For some reason or the other, the look on her face instilled something in her and she realised that for some reason… she wanted to impress her. She wanted to prove her worth. It was terrifying - the thought of attempting and failing - but that didn't matter. The feeling of being able to do what was asked of her, one-hundred percent and with zero problems, would give her something back she long thought she'd lost.
So, cautiously, she dropped the baubles she was carrying and slung the tinsel over a nearby stool.
"There's a good girl!" Mrs Abbott cheered. "Shan't be too long, half an hour at most!"
With that, she bustled out of the door, barely fitting through under so much fabric
Coming behind the bar, she took a deep breath and tried to relax her face into a nonthreatening expression - something she'd been practising at.
"Hello, welcome to the Leaky Cauldron. May I take your order?"
The patron lifted his head from the paper and vaguely acknowledged her.
"Oh aye. Pint, if yer would."
"Of?"
"Not mithered."
She nodded to herself and brought a glass up from beneath the bar. If he wasn't bothered, then that'd mean he would take anything she gave him, right? It better bloody had do, this time.
There was a shrill hiss as the pint glass began to fill with amber liquid and a frothy foam. The smell was unpleasant, but definitely not as sickening to her as it used to be. She took her best guess at when to cut it off and was mostly correct, but did get an annoying dribble of liquid up her arm.
She served the man, trying to keep an eye on his reaction. He gave the briefest of glances then returned to his paper.
"Cheers very much. How much?"
Looking down, she traced her finger along the plastic chart. Hockey's Lager on draft was…
"Galleon and three sickles."
He took his first sip, swallowed, and when no outrageous reaction came a moment later, she grinned. The man produced some coins from his pocket and as quickly as she was thrown into her social interaction, she'd left it again. Her first patron officially served and she didn't even swear at them.
Unusually proud of herself, considering the mundanity of that task, she tucked the money in the register and moved to bring herself out from the bar.
"You stay there, my treacle! Ol' Tom can handle it out 'ere!"
She looked up. Whatever crowds they were expecting definitely weren't here yet. She supposed that'd be what this evening was here for. And Mrs Abbott would definitely be back by then, so she had nothing to worry about. But a lingering unpleasantness and vulnerability refused to be shaken.
Her eyes crossed the bar to the drink she'd just pulled and she brought up a second pint glass. She'd probably poured herself more drinks behind this bar than customers by now - probably best not tell Mrs Abbott that, though.
Though she could have done without the sudden on-the-spotness, she was glad she'd done it. Her left hand trembled involuntarily on the spot and there was still a definite pang of anxiety in her stomach, but she'd done it once and now she could do it again. She'd memorised all of the drinks and their combinations with the glasses - she'd only messed up last time because of demented old people. Though, if more idiotic customers turned up and she didn't have Mrs Abbott around to intercept them…
Guess she was officially a bartender now.
She brought the orangey liquid to her lips and drank. It tasted exactly how it smelled - like cold piss that someone had mixed with vinegar. But, all things considered, she'd drank worse. Not worse piss - she caught herself - she'd tasted worse drinks, even in this very bar. And it seemed to be one of the higher percentages of the beers they served.
Yeah, Hockey's Lager could do her over fine.
So, she lingered behind the bar. She watched her first patron from the corner of her eye as he sipped his drink, reading his paper. She tried avoiding the paper itself, but was still able to catch a few orphaned words, 'DEMENTOR ATTACKS' and 'MUGGLE MURDERS' jumped out at her as headlines and they were enough for her to abandon further investigation.
Her life had been the most peaceful it ever had since she left the conflict behind her, she was in no rush to catch up on it.
Within half an hour, the patron, a long haired warlock with a waistcoat and leather jacket, drained his glass and returned it across the polished surface.
"Cheers for that, 'nother one if you could. Just a top up, no need for new glass."
She nodded. She retook the glass and began to pour as he continued.
"Haven't seen you 'round 'ere before. When'd you start?"
The golden liquid began to bubble up the glass.
"Few days ago."
"Ah. You family?"
"Just part time… Something to keep the wheel turning."
He nodded with her.
"Galleon and three sickles."
She clicked the pump off and handed him the drink back, again wiping a trail of escaped liquid from her forearm. The man rooted in his pocket.
"You got a name?"
"Harkness."
"Nice. Scottish?"
"Yeah… aye."
He slid a handful of coins over the bar which she counted up mentally.
"I'm Aldrich Gideon. Writer for Transfiguration Daily. Pop in here every hour an' then… Mrs Abbotts usually got a good scoop for us. Ever in need of a few extra galleons, give us a shout. If you've got a good story, mind."
Dropping each coin into its respective section, she was able to hide a coy grin behind her hair. Gideon…? Wonder if there was any relation?
"Ahh… you couldn't afford mine."
He grinned.
"Ohh, now that's a proclamation that begs investigation!"
She pushed the till closed. He leaned across the bar with a recognisable air of playfulness. Cocking her hip to the side, she decided to humour him..
"Believe me, it doesn't. I'm nice and boring."
"Oh, come now…"
She pointed a stern finger at him.
"Drink your drink or get out. No more questions."
He recoiled, arms raised in defence. It was good natured enough that she knew he registered it as a joke. Shaking his head, he smiled into his glass.
"Woman of flavour," he mumbled.
She moved away to keep herself busy, cleaning glasses and restocking bottles. All the while, having the tiniest of smiles on her mouth.
"Welcome home! Welcome home!"
"'Ello kids!" Ol' Tom cheered.
Mrs Abbott, returning with a fresh coat of snow, lugged two heavy looking trunks on either side of her, with two smaller Abbotts following behind.
"Now! I want you both to meet Miss Cara Harkness, she'll be working with us for the next few months!"
The tallest of the two - which was shoulder height for her - was the spitting image of a younger Mrs Abbott, yet also distinctively different from the photographs of the young Alice Abbot she'd seen. The two of them locked eyes instantly.
"She's a bartender?"
The mother nodded.
"That she is."
"You said I could be a bartender?"
"Yes, and you can be! When you're here! But I can't exactly hold down the entire fortress myself when you're not here for half the year, can I?"
The younger girl's eyes slithered back to her.
She nodded a greeting at her.
"Yo."
Behind her, a soft looking boy spoke for the first time.
"Hello."
"Hey, yourself."
"Righhtt, you two upstairs! Get your stuff unpacked!"
It took some time before the pub settled back into something resembling a routine. Mrs Abbotts kids disappeared immediately into their rooms and she found herself left alone to her thoughts again.
She considered the younger Abbotts. They seemed like good enough kids, although she wasn't sure how they felt about her. They certainly didn't seem to significantly care about her one way or another; which was perfectly fine by her. And it was better than being hated.
Her thoughts turned to the older girl, Alice. There was a certain familiarity there between them that she couldn't quite put a name to. Or maybe just a sense of camaraderie - her being the closest one to her age. Her mind wandered to what it would have been like if she had been born into the same world as her. If they'd been sisters, or cousins…
As if on cue, she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. A moment later, Mrs Abbott appeared around the corner.
"What did you think?"
She shrugged.
"Eh."
"Oh come on! What did you think?!"
Cara rolled her eyes.
"Well… they're nice. Look like you."
Mrs Abbott's expression glowed.
"I'll take that as a compliment!"
Cara smirked.
"Yeah. Only you've got more wrinkles."
From the kitchen, she heard Ol' Tom snigger. Mrs Abbott huffed and threw a pot towel at her.
"You're so horrible sometimes, Carly!"
She smiled, a feeling so unfamiliar that it ached her face a little. Mrs Abbott grinned, her cheeks dimpling as she patted her on the arm.
"I know you're only teasing, darling! It makes me happy though – I'm glad to see that you're settling in here. I want you to enjoy yourself while you're still here!"
A wave of heat washed over her skin and she tried to smile more genuinely.
"Yeah... thanks..."
There was a brief pause. Then Mrs Abbott sighed and stepped away into the kitchen.
"Come on, let's get these glasses done. Those regulars are going to start to trickle in now. We don't want any empty glasses do we?"
She nodded absently.
There was a shuffling from above and Hannah reemerged from the staircase. She'd changed from her uniform and was wearing jeans and a blue jumper, with her hair pulled back from her face in a messy bob.
They were both looking at each other. They stared at each other for several seconds without saying anything. Their expressions didn't change, neither of them blinking.
Finally, she took a breath.
"What're you looking at?"
The words slipped out of her mouth. She wasn't expecting to say it. She hadn't really considered it until the words came tumbling out.
Hannah flinched slightly but kept her expression neutral. She didn't look away. After a few moments, she spoke quietly.
"Do us a coffee, would you?" she asked her.
Her voice was low and calm, but there was a tension to it. It sounded like a question. But she knew what it meant.
A threat.
"You gonna say please?" she said sharply.
It was a childish response, but she couldn't help herself.
She paused, then replied with a curt nod.
"Please."
She watched her for a moment, then picked up the kettle and filled it from the tap. When she turned around, Hannah was still watching her.
"That's right," she thought. "Keep your eyes open. Don't trust anybody."
She poured the hot water into the pot and waited patiently for the liquid to boil. She added a scoop of ground beans to the top and placed the lid on the small metal basket.
After a short wait, she poured steaming coffee into the waiting cup and slid it along the counter. When it reached Hannah's place, she handed her back a handful of coins.
"There you are, love."
Hannah nodded and gave a quick smile.
"Yeah."
They went back to glaring at each other, neither saying a word.
Behind them, Ol' Tom hobbled in from the back. He was carrying a tray of dirty glasses and pots, balancing them carefully on a wooden rolling board. As he approached the counter, he set the tray down gently and wiped his hands on a cloth.
"Now, 'ah gotta ask, is anyone thinkin' of taking a trip out today?"
His question brought Mrs Abbott back into the fold, whose appearance broke the tension between her and Hannah.
"Why? Whatever's the matter?"
"Ah've just got a few extra bits an' bobs that need gettin' fer the downstairs is all. Joints are about to start closin' soon and it's the last day before the holidays."
"Ohhh, Tom! You should have made sure you had everything before the kids got back!"
Tom sets his tools down and held his hands up defensively.
"Leave it out, woman, I'm workin' with scraps 'ere!"
Mrs Abbott rolls her eyes.
"I know, I know, you can't make an omelette without breaking some legs... or something like that. Can't remember exactly. Hannah, honey, you want to nip out?"
"I've just got in!" she protests.
Mrs Abbott sighs and pats her hand reassuringly.
"I've got to keep an eye on dinner, Ol' Tom has to mind the bar and Maurice is too young to go out on his own."
Hannah looks at her and then at her mother.
"Why can't Clara!?"
"My name is Cara!"
There's a brief silence as both women stare at one another.
"Okay, fine..." says Mrs Abbott. "Cara, honey, could you head out with her?"
The words were spoken so kindly and calmly, they almost felt like a suggestion rather than a command. The expression in her face was soft and sympathetic, yet it didn't feel like she was asking.
She stared hard at the mother, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"No way."
She knew she wanted to leave, but she refused to give in. And it wasn't because she was scared.
Mrs Abbott's face dropped.
"Oh, but - "
"I don't care what you say. I'm not going out there."
She looked taken aback by this statement, but remained calm and composed.
"... Hannah, honey, give us a moment?"
Hannah looked confused and upset by this, but obeyed, taking her plate and saucer and shifting to a table further back in the pub.
Mrs Abbott came in closer.
"Look, Carly, I know you're a bit of a recluse and you don't really like going out, and that's fine! But… well, she's my daughter and I just really don't feel safe with her out on her own these days. Not with all these Death Eaters running about…"
Her tone was gentle, but firm.
She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd already lost the argument.
"... why can't Ol' Tom take her?"
Mrs Abbott sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. She looked around for a moment, unsure whether to continue.
"He needs to keep working in the basement. Besides, he has a habit of… attracting attention."
She turned back towards her and put her hand on her arm.
"Please, hon? I promise if anything happens we'll be right behind you. But please? Please do this? For me?"
Her lip curled in disgust as she took her hand away from the mother. She didn't know what to say. How on earth could she argue with that? Especially when she was being completely reasonable? That was hardly fair.
First she was sent down into the basement with a cripple, now chaperoning a kid on a shopping trip… she was starting to get the feeling Mrs Abbott didn't want her interacting with the customers. Couldn't blame her - the woman probably outright regretted hiring her by now, at least manual labour jobs kept her away from the public. And realistically, she should be thankful, keeping hidden away or constantly moving was probably the best thing for her right now.
Other than staying put in her room. Which was not an option.
So instead she gave into her fear and nodded, slowly.
"Fine. If I have to."
She knew Mrs Abbott wouldn't let anything bad happen to her, and the idea of having to protect the girl was ridiculous, but the thought of spending the next few hours hiding back in her room seemed infinitely worse.
"Excellent! Well, I'll start putting together a list for you two!"
"I'll go after my coffee," Hannah re-entered the scene.
"Okay, but you'll have to hurry! Everywhere is closing earlier these days."
Hannah took her sweet time finishing her coffee, in what she couldn't interrupt as anything other than a play of power on her behalf. The morning rush - which was still entirely composed of Aldrich Gideon and Ol' Tom hanging decorations in the corner - would have to do without her.
"There's your list! And Carly, here's your budget. Do not let her spend it in the Weasleys shop!"
The landlady slid a thatch coin sack across the bar, which she grabbed. Hannah looked upset.
"Oi! You can trust me with it!"
Mrs Abbott winked and waved a finger at her.
"I can trust you with money about as far as I can throw you! And I bet she can throw you a bloody-lot further than I can! See you in a bit, dear. And take care of Carly, okay? She's great fun!"
It was her time to glare.
She forced herself up and walked over to Hannah, her head resting against the table, looking like a child who'd just been told they were never getting a puppy, or someone who'd just heard there was no Father Christmas.
"Let's go."
She didn't even look at Cara as she stood up, clutching her bag tightly in one hand. She followed her out the exit, shivering slightly as the door opened and the wind hit her. There was snow already falling in the street. Not much - just enough to make everything cold and miserable.
And, for the first time in a month, she made her way out into Diagon Alley.
They walked quickly along the cobbled road, passing more shops than she cared to count. A lot of them were closed though; most places had only been for a while, by the looks of things.
She'd spent so much time in Diagon Alley over the past few years, whether on her own, with family or friends. It felt like a home away from home and she knew these streets like the back of her hand. She'd go one step further and even say this entire town felt like her home, she felt just as comfortable walking to the streets here as she did walking to her own bathroom.
But that wasn't the case anymore now.
She didn't feel comfortable, or safe. She wouldn't let it show, but a part of her was as terrified as she stepped outside that wooden door frame, as she was after entering it nearly months ago. She didn't recognize these streets and every witch or wizard they'd passed was out to get her. Every shadow had a dementor lurking in it, every loud noise was an explosion and every raised voice intended for her. She knew where she was, but she was lost. This world had never felt so big to her. She had her disguise on - she was completely unrecognisable to anyone that may have sought to do her harm, but somehow that didn't matter.
She quickly fell into simply following the younger girl as she led the way. It would take the better part of the morning to gather everything Ol' Tom needed, and she found herself already thoroughly anxious.
A large snowy sign hung above the doorway, announcing the establishment as "Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment". The sign was adorned with a picture of a wand and a map of the British Isles with several dots around it. Hannah pulled open the heavy door and stepped first the dim room, a single strip of light illuminating it's interior. Mercifully, it was empty.
She stopped next to a table stacked high with odd-shaped devices while Hannah set about gathering the bits listed. Thankfully, the girl seemed more than capable of functioning independently, which meant she was indeed nothing more than a glorified chaperone. Which was absolutely fine by her.
She stopped by a small sneakoscope, which activated in her presence, when Hannah reappeared behind her.
"Oi. Come pay for this, would you?"
She did as she was told. She counted off three gold galleons, handed them over the counter to the decrepit looking shop keeper and then exited back onto the cobblestones.
The snowy air was crisp and clean, with not a breath of smoke or pollution anywhere. In fact, there were very few signs of life around and those that were were keeping a wide birth. Neither the less, she felt exposed, as if everyone could see right down to the core of her being. Her heart thumped wildly against her chest and she clutched the strap of her bag tightly, hoping no one saw her hands shaking.
The younger Abbott never hesitated, navigating unerringly through the alleys and streets without a care in the world. It was an optimism she once would have condemned, but now found herself rather jealous of. She kept pace beside her silently, taking in her surroundings.
"So, who are you, anyway?" she asked quietly.
There was something wrong with the way the question sounded. It was almost accusatory.
For the second time today, she found herself lying to answer.
"Cara Harkness. Your Mum already told you."
"Yeah, but who are you?"
"I've already answered that."
"Not well enough."
She was beginning to suspect curiosity was hereditary. She took a deep breath, steeling herself before answering.
"... I was staying as a resident and your mum offered me a job. That good enough?"
It was a weak attempt at a lie, but it was still the truth.
They continued walking, passing more closed shops until they arrived at their next destination. A shop called the "Apothecary", which sold potions ingredients and concoctions, along with ritual charms and other items of obscure interest. She pushed open the door, a bell rang and an elderly woman emerged from the rear office, a pair of spectacles perched upon her nose.
"Can I help you dears?"
Hannah showed her the list they were working with, then when the woman began to search her stock, returned to her.
"What're you staying for?"
"Professional reasons."
"What professional reasons?"
She stared at her.
"My professional reasons, no one else's."
Hannah scoffed - a snarky noise, very unbefitting of a girl within twatting distance.
"Alright, lady."
When they were done, she paid the woman for her goods and they left, making their way back out onto the street. They must have been past dinner time by now, she thought, and as they doubled-back on themselves and passed by the Leaky Cauldron again, the clock outside confirmed it. It was almost quarter to two - by this time Diagon Alley should have been absolutely packed. It definitely had increased in numbers, but she doubted ever in its long history had it ever been so empty at prime time on a Saturday.
It was an eerie feeling.
She tried putting it out of her mind and focus on what lay ahead instead, but yet... she couldn't help the feeling like she was being watched. Someone was watching her every move and waiting for her to slip up. It was stupid, because if anyone was actually looking out for her, she'd surely be dead by now. But paranoia was one ugly mistress that she couldn't shake.
And so they walked in silence, their feet crunching softly over the stones of the street. Every step seemed to take longer than it should have, each footfall accompanied by another moment of dread and unease.
"So…" she spoke up, "... your dad in the picture?"
It was better than silence, after all.
"Why?"
She shrugged.
"Your Mum doesn't mention him a lot. She's still called Mrs, though."
"They split a few years ago but stayed married for some tax reason… Why, you interested?"
She gave a bark of unexpected laughter, catching both her and Hannah off guard.
"Listen kid…" she chuckled, "... your mum is a milf. But I'm not in the market right now."
"You got a boyfriend?"
She frowned.
"No."
And then a moment later, she followed up again.
"Do you have a girlfriend… ?"
"No."
"Because there's nothing wrong with it if you do -"
" - I know there's nothing wrong with it."
They stared at one another.
"Then why aren't you seeing anyone?"
"Because I don't want - what kind of bloody question is that!? Nobody has to be seeing anyone?!"
She folded her arms in a huff.
"Hmphm… bit boring, though."
She barked a sarcastic laugh.
"Boring is fine by me!"
She remembered when she was the girls age. Back when boy-and-girl troubles were the biggest thing in her life. Memories of the Celestial Ball, dates in the Pumpkin patch and Valentine's Day in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop… somehow, it simultaneously felt like yesterday and also a hundred years ago. The only consistency was how far from her current life it all felt.
The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
Then Hannah said something which made her blood run cold.
"Look, Death Eaters."
Her very soul left her being and she whipped around - hand already going for the knife - when she stopped suddenly.
A notice board sat at the furthest end of Diagon Alley. It was long and low and presently, largely taken over by a wave of Ministry wanted posters. As she scanned the notices, she endured a weary rush of memory. She spiked her nose up at the unhappy faces and read over what was written under them.
'BELLATRIX LESTRANGE IS WANTED IN CONNECTION TO THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MULTIPLE MUGGLE BORNS IN DIAGON ALLEY.
FENRIR GREYBACK IS WANTED FOR THE DESTRUCTION OF MINISTRY PROPERTY.
ALECTO CARROW IS WANTED FOR QUESTIONING IN CONNECTION TO THE THEFT OF A VALUABLE MAGICAL ARTEFACT.
AMYCUS CARROW IS WANTED FOR QUESTIONING IN CONNECTION TO THE THEFT OF A VALUABLE MAGICAL ARTEFACT.
MERULA SNYDE IS WANTED FOR MURDER.'
Her heart skipped a beat at this last one. Hannah's eyes were wide and full of concern.
"... keep moving, kid. Let's get back."
"Do you know anyone these?"
Her eyes sank across to the young girl.
"... What?"
"Bellatrix Lestrange is the aunt of someone in my year," she leaned in, squinting in interest at the poster. "And Amycus Carrow has two cousins a few years below me... They say blood purity is so ingrained into wizarding culture that everyone knows someone who's got the Dark Mark. Who do you know?"
She looked briefly at the poster board, but found the glares of those on it too unwelcoming. She turned her back on them.
"C'mon, it's time to go home."
"But we still have one thing left to get…?"
"It'll have to wait until tomorrow. My back's aching and we're skint."
"... can we nip to Weasley Wizard Wheezes first?"
"We are going back home right now and if you say anything else then I'm going to reconsider how available I am."
Hannah blinked at her.
"Are you… threatening to shag my Mum… if I don't do what you say?"
She glared at her.
"Less as a threat and more a heads up. It's boring not seeing anybody."
"I can't tell if you're joking or not."
"Then tread carefully."
Hannah glared, then reluctantly decided to march ahead of her, making a beeline back towards the Leaky Cauldron. She followed, albeit now looking back every few seconds.
When they arrived at the door, Hannah through the heavy oak doors and The Leaky Cauldron never felt more welcoming. Something about it caused a stirring inside her, one that only grew stronger as she walked inside. The air was warm, almost hot, and filled with a sense of familiarity.
She pulled the doors closed behind her, letting out a breath that'd been steadily gathering.
She sidled right up to the bar and unburdened herself, dropping the various bits and pieces they'd accumulated onto the counter. She groaned, cracking her spine. Ol' Tom immediately set to unpacking and arranging his collection of tools and wood work.
"Find everything?" Mrs Abbott called to them.
"Yeah. Finally. Only took us to every shop in…" she stopped," …oh."
With her fingers beginning to ache she hadn't spotted it, but now she was able to look at the bar as a whole, she found it unusually busy. More than usual anyway. A group of men were seated near the fireplace, each with a mug in hand and all talking animatedly amongst themselves. Several tables were occupied by couples and groups of wizards. Some of them were drinking, others chatting and laughing, some eating while reading newspapers. Three witches sat along the bar, along with Aldrich Gideon who still remained and two pairs of couples sat in booths. It was the most busy it'd been since she'd moved in.
"Told you it would be in the holidays! Just you wait until this weekend!"
Considering her ratio of interacting with the customers, she probably could.
"Well, come on, pop behind the bar!"
Mrs Abbot gestured for her to take over the cashier position. She hesitated and glanced back at the Hannah, who had already lost interest in her and was disappearing back upstairs. She sighed, grabbed the nearest stool and dragged it behind the bar. Her arms burned, but she kept moving forward. With a deep breath, she heaved herself into place.
"You've got this!"
Mrs Abbott yelled from where she stood at the bar, waving.
She grumbled.
"Hello, welcome to the Leaky Cauldron. May I take your order?"
A wizard wearing a green cloak and a pair of glasses leaned forwards on the counter. He peered at her intently.
"I want a pint of pumpkin juice and a round of three butterbeer's, please."
He handed her the correct number of galleons without being prompted.
"Right away."
She nodded to him and turned back around, grabbing the pitcher from the shelf and filling a glass with ice cold pumpkin juice. She poured the drink into another glass, then felt Mrs Abbott's presence behind her.
"How'd it go?" she whispered. "Any trouble?"
Cara shrugged, setting the drinks down.
"She's a nosey little…"
She caught the mother's eye.
"... so-and-so. Kept asking if I'm seeing someone… I'd like to know why people keep asking me that! But it went fine. Nobody paid attention to either of us and got everything we needed."
Mrs Abbot chuckled softly.
"Ahh, ignore her! She's at that age… she's got her own romantic troubles right now and you know what they're like at that age. You could probably offer her a bit of advice there!"
"Why?"
"Because you're young, beautiful and smart. And I'm her Mum!"
They laughed.
She turned back to the patron, drinks in hand. The man thanked her and tipped his hat. She nodded to him as he left.
"What can I get you?"
Another customer stepped up to the bar, a witch dressed in robes and carrying an umbrella. After that, more wizards came in, one after the other. She continued to serve them quickly, her heart still pushing her to keep a cautious eye out for anyone of interest. As the day progressed, however, the crowd thinned. Soon only the regulars remained. They sat around, drinking and enjoying the company of the other patrons. It was a refreshing sight to see these days.
She finished serving her last person, removed her apron and hung it by the kitchen door. She made her way across the bar and began up the staircase, spotting Gideon still at his table by the fireplace.
"Laters!"
The handsome wizard smiled warmly and nodded her way.
"Good day, Miss Harkness."
As she began to ascend, however, she heard the familiar voice of Mrs Abbott calling out for her.
"Carly, a word before you do, please!"
She deflated.
'A word' typically meant that she was in trouble. Today had been a very active day - probably her most in months - so she had to strain herself to think what she could have done wrong. By the time she reached Mrs Abbott at the kitchen door, she thought she had a pretty good idea.
"I was just teasing her! You're great, but I'm not actually going to try and -"
"Ohhh, it's nothing about Hannah! She said you were fine."
The relief washed over her face.
"Oh… alright. Then what?"
Mrs Abbott took a deep breath.
"Well… we're having a bit of a family meal and… It's nothing big! It's not a big Christmas-do or anything, but it's Hannah and Maurice's first night back, their fathers come down and Ol' Tom will be joining us… It's really a casual friends-and-family get-together, d'yknow?"
Her eyes narrowed..
"No."
Mrs Abbot shook her head.
"Ohh, but you have to! I insist!"
She put on her sternest expression and really tried to sound firm.
"No. Really. I don't want to."
Mrs Abbot sighed deeply.
"Look Carly, you've worked hard today, it'd be nice to let your hair down! And if not, you've got to let me save you a plate of food?"
She felt her stomach grumble at the mention of food. Her feet ached and she felt exhausted. She was almost tempted by the offer of something to eat, but her stubborn side wouldn't allow her to admit defeat.
Knowing better than to deny further, she simply walked away, heading upstairs. Once inside her peaceful isolation, she leaned back against the closed door behind her. Her fingers trembled slightly from the effort.
It was dark outside. The windows were covered by heavy curtains that kept the light from the street lamps out, keeping the room dim. In this darkness, she couldn't make herself out in the mirror, only her vaguely silhouette in it's depths. She couldn't remember the last time she'd looked at her reflection without fear or disgust.
She found herself feeling increasingly isolated. Now, here, in an environment filled with people of different blood and backgrounds, the solitude was noticeable. She knew barely three people by name. None of them were really more than an acquaintance, although Mrs Abbott seemed friendly at least, and Ol' Tom was strangely calming to be around.
But they were all moving through their lives while she remained stuck in hers. She couldn't move forward with them. Not when her mind dragged her backwards constantly with thoughts of revenge, death and destruction. Thoughts that made her feel sick every time she dwelled upon them.
She could see herself in the reflection now. Her actual self. The girl who'd become hardened and jaded by a cruel world. No traces of innocence left in her features. No softness in her cheeks or kindness in her gaze. She had seen too much blood spilt for there to be any left within her.
She was so tired. Tired of being scared. Tired of hiding. Tired of running. Yet, she continued to run because she didn't know how to stop. She didn't know how to rest. Resting meant giving up and giving in. Giving in meant losing everything. Losing the fight. Losing her freedom. Losing her power. Losing her life.
A single tear slid down her cheek and dripped onto the floor, landing among the dust and dirt beneath her bare foot.
A/N Hope you guys are enjoying this so far! I just really wanted to focus on a smaller scale story for a little. Reminder this is a side story to my Living series, though it's not required reading for either! Chuck us a review if you like the way the story is heading or if you have any constructive critism.
Peace!