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Holly Evans and the Spiral Path

Chapter 16: Strange Conversations



4th August, 1993



Harry,

I made a new friend today, maybe. What's more important I suppose is that I have a second vendor willing to sell to Dobby. I'm just not sure I'll need that much ice cream while at school. I would have liked to record our conversation, but I get the feeling he wouldn't have sat to talk with me if I still had the Quill. It came about because I had a frustrating conversation with Ollivander the Weird Wand guy and just needed to stew, but the day was too nice and sunny for me to go back to my room at the Cauldron. Thus I sat down amongst the patio tables outside Florean Fortescue's Parlor of Iced Delights for a good sun-kissed sulk. The sandy-haired proprietor in his happy purple robes walked up from behind me when I had my eyes closed absorbing sunlight like a previously-submerged cactus or something.

"What can I get you, my dear?"

"You can SOD OFF you pervert! I want nothing you're selling and I'm harming no one!"

See, Mr. Fortescue couldn't have known that I would react badly to that simple question, but I went feral on him due to the mixture of hormone imbalance, information gathering roadblocks and the unfortunate choice of his to call me 'dear'. I'm still a bit sensitive to that term of affection after my near-rape in Knockturn Alley.

"Well, I can assure you I have no perverse intentions in my question, but you did sit at my establishment. As it is early in the day you are my only potential customer, so I don't think it would be out of line to suggest that your mood couldn't possibly be worsened with a bowl of ice cream. Have some basic chocolate glace, on the house. It improves the mood of anyone not allergic to cocoa." Mr. Fortescue placed a bowl of ice cream in front of me that he seemed to summon from his pocket, though I noticed the subtle use of his wand from his left hand in an admirable piece of presentation. I couldn't help but feel like a heel.

"I apologise, sir. That looks quite good, actually. What's in it?"

"Well, if you must know this contains milk, cream, sugar, vanilla, cocoa, whey and a bit of a Cheering Draught. I felt it was the best option since I doubt my customer count will improve if your mood doesn't."

"You're telling me you were going to dose me with free ice cream?"

"Do you blame me?"

It took a minute, but I decided that Mr. Fortescue was much too interesting for me to continue being uselessly bitchy. I dug into the dish with much appreciation. Mr. Fortescue smiled, brought out a second bowl for himself and sat down.

"I hope you don't mind the company. You seem to be enjoying that too much for me not to want to share the experience. People should have a good time with others instead of alone whenever possible, I always say."

"I thought you said you had no perverse intentions, Mr. Fortescue."

"You see many layers, but no; what I said was that my question wasn't meant perversely. Even so, I have no designs on your body. I am happily married after all. If you don't mind my redirection, what has put you in such a state at your young age to so desperately need some of my glace?"

"Well, if you must know I had a frustratingly uninformative talk about wands with Mr. Ollivander. You would think he would enjoy talking about his art, but all he wanted to do was sell me a polishing kit or a new wand holder. I even paid for a new wand! I hate asking intelligent questions and getting answers phrased as if I were in nappies. I'm short, not infantile."

"I disagree."

"Pardon?"

"You're only in your teens and five feet tall. I've met adults who are doomed never to see over my counter, including your Professor Flitwick. Mr. Ollivander wasn't treating you like a child for your size."

"No, he just didn't want to answer my questions and used the demeaning tone to chase me off from asking anything further."

Mr. Fortescue smiled at that point like he had found the missing piece for his collection of Chocolate Frog cards. "That's it exactly. I'm surprised you picked up his intentions so clearly. Aren't you in Gryffindor?"

"Mr. Fortescue, I believe you have me at a disadvantage. What can you tell me about myself that I haven't told you?"

"Well phrased! I will play this game I think, just for your enjoyment, but only if you buy the next round of ice cream."

"Done." I placed three galleons on the table.

"Are you truly that hungry, or are there other things you thirst for in this intercourse?"

"I like your insight as much or more than your ice cream, so far."

"Well then. You would be Miss Holly Evans, recently deposited by Professor McGonagall to stay the summer at the Leaky Cauldron. Your brother is Harry James Potter, savior of the British Wizarding World. You attend Hogwarts and are entering your third year there, assuming they haven't held you back due to lost time. After all, you were absent from classes for the last two months of term recovering from wounds sustained in your brother's battle to free you from the clutches of Salazar's monster, the Basilisk of the Chamber of Secrets. No, you wouldn't be held back. Despite your membership in house Gryffindor including their Quidditch squad where you play Seeker (when you're not hospitalised), you have exhibited a rather public tendency towards dark practices as any crimes and misdemeanors occurring at Hogwarts school since your arrival have had you near the center of the drama. You were considered for house Slytherin and you have the gift of Parseltongue."

"It's not much of a gift."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, in addition to giving my reputation another kick towards the dark side it has brought me little but trouble. Also, snakes are on the whole quite stupid, making their conversations very dull."

"I thought I had seen you trying to whisper to some pythons in front of the Creatures shop. What did they have to say?"

"Well, not much about what I was asking. They really only seed their eggs instinctually ...never mind."

"Why on Earth would you ask a snake how they fertilize an egg?"

"It ...was a Biblical thing. Snakes were supposed to have taught Eve about sex. I don't have good parental figures."

"I should think one would find better information at the bookstore about that."

"I'm sure you would. I however am not permitted into Flourish and Blott's for the foreseeable future, and they won't deal with my elf as he carries the Betrayer's scar."

"Ah yes, part of your reputation. I should continue my summary. You are rumored to be responsible for several muggle-style assaults on Hogwarts attendees, both students and faculty though you have not been legally mired by any of the incidents at school. You recently employed the Malfoy's crazed house-elf who was supposed to die and are associated with both the Weasley family and with a muggle-born witch who may be your thrall. That is the extent of what is known or reasonably suspected by the public."

I had to laugh at the last part. "Her name is Hermione Granger, and she is not my thrall. We're ...friends. She is absolutely brilliant and I wouldn't have survived this long without her help."

"Nor I suspect would she have survived without yours."

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe Hermione'd be safer if she didn't know me at all."

"Too late for that, and I've known you for a few minutes now and I don't feel any more threatened than I was before you arrived. Perhaps you can indulge me. What were you asking Mr. Ollivander that prompted such a cold response? Was there something wrong with your old wand or were you hoping to buy a second one?"

"No, I don't need a second wand. I was ordering one anonymously for a friend. He wasn't matched to the one he's using. No, I wanted to know how wands were tracked. I have been told that I am not permitted to use magic while home from school, yet when Professor McGonagall brought me here she indicated that I could use 'school magic' in my room without fear of persecution."

"Don't you mean prosecution?"

"You say 'tomahto'..."

"Well, what Mr. Ollivander could have told you (without breaking any oaths I'm aware of) is that he places a Registration Charm and an age-based tracker in every wand he sells. As the wand becomes acclimated to the new owner, the tracking charm evaluates the owner's chronological age and dissipates once they have reached their majority. The Registration remains however, to track the use of restricted spells."

"So, if someone were to steal my wand and cast an illegal spell with it, some alert would be set off saying I cast the spell?"

"Indeed. It is therefore imperative that one keeps their wand under their control at all times. Of course if it were lost to another wizard, the Registration Charm would eventually update after the wand had acclimated to the new owner, assuming the two were compatible. These charms don't communicate instantly; for instance if one is in an Unplottable location the Registration Charm is unable to link to the Ministry detectors. It would probably wait until it could link back again to send any alerts, but even so a wand only retains a limited echo of recently cast spells. The Aurors use the Priori Incantatem spell to list out that echo, in case the Registration Charm was out of range or somehow removed."

"It can be removed? That doesn't seem to be very secure for the Aurors purposes."

"Well, removing the Charm from an Ollivander wand invariably takes away a good portion of its functional ability. I have heard of other wandmakers that were rumored to be less diligent in their crafting. One wouldn't find their type in this Alley."

"Isn't Hogwarts Unplottable?"

"Yes, I believe it is my dear. Oh! I apologise. My friend."

"Thanks for that. I had a bad encounter with an adult creature who kept referring to me that way. Thankfully I prevented him from making me his 'little dearie' and left him a reminder to adjust his perception of things."

"I hope you weren't too poorly handled. You seem to be recovering well."

"I heal quickly out of necessity."

Florean and I chatted for a while about less relevant things and I introduced him to Dobby, who was as happy as I've seen him to speak to another human without being looked at like walking garbage. I can't say Mr. Fortescue really is a friend as most of the information I received was paid for, but he certainly isn't an enemy that I can tell.



Holly



*



12th August, 1993



Harry,

I had another interesting conversation with Florean today. He was chatting with me about Sirius Black who as you may know is the first person ever known to escape Azkaban prison. Mr. Black was heard by his keepers mumbling 'he'll be at Hogwarts' just a day prior to his escape after 12 years of incarceration. When I asked Florean what his crimes were, his response was interestingly specific. He said "Sirius Black was said to have betrayed the Potters to the Dark Lord, bringing about the confrontation that led to you becoming an orphan. He was caught at the scene after he used unknown magics to create an explosion that killed 12 muggles and the Potter's friend Peter Pettigrew. There are all sorts of rumours and innuendo surrounding those events, but Sirius Black was caught because he was still standing at the scene cackling madly when the Aurors arrived and he was imprisoned the very next day."

I couldn't help but compare Florean's description of that scene to my own notorious claim to fame with the Troll at Hogwarts. Maybe Mr. Black had just heard something funny after getting caught in the blast caused by two other combatants. That being said, I doubt after 12 years in Azkaban that he has many cards left in his deck. If I see him I'll run or fight as circumstances allow. You should do the same. In the meantime, I think I may delve tentatively into the rumours and innuendo portion of that statement. Every once in a while the press accidentally stumbles over a fact; usually you have to compare as many related stories as possible. Wherever they all agree it is either well-documented fact or an abject lie. Where they differ, someone probably has a fact and the rest are guesses as equally outrageous so that if the truth is revealed they can come back with how they had the real story and it was suppressed. On second thought, I don't think I have the patience for this.



Holly



*



20th August, 1993



Harry,

I need to write about this, and this journal remains the one safe repository for my thoughts. Don't judge me too harshly. Although my mood swings have finally started to yield to my will, I'm still trying to get my mind under control. Nightly meditations have lessened the frequency of my horror dreams. What has me unhinged right now is the simple truth of my situation. I'm in love with a girl who likes boys.

Hermione caught up with me here at the Cauldron this morning. Her parents have dropped her off early at her insistence to spend time with me and get her books and supplies before we shuffle off to the Express. I was so happy to see her Iswear half the regulars in the main room were staring at my smile in disbelief. As it was Hermione gave me one of her wonderful immersive hugs and after a brief reintroduction to her parents we adjourned to my room to catch up on the rest of the holidays. She's tanned again, making us look like such a mismatched pair- brown curly hair and bronzed skin set against straight burgundy hair and pale skin. At least she's only a few inches taller than me now. Hermione must have had a growth spurt in France, as she's about 5' 3" at this point.

I had already sent her a note of apology about crashing at her place, including the use of her clothes, bed and the disposal of three eggs in her garden that I had shed the day after I arrived. The first thing Hermione told me when we got to my room was that she had tracked down where I had left the eggs easily because the nearby rose bushes never looked so radiant. It made me feel less freakish the way she said that- as if I had given them a gift. We talked for awhile about her choices in movies and music as I had sampled her collection during my stay. Mostly I got the sense that she had really thought about how things had gotten bad on the train ride home, and had been anxiously awaiting the opportunity to reconcile with me. Hermione apologised to me, saying she treated what must have been a humiliating and traumatic experience with less care for my emotional state as to what it all meant magically. She said it never occurred to her that I might be having a hard time with it as I always seem so strong. As an olive branch, Hermione offered to have me try out Legilimency on her, so I could be sure to believe what she was telling me about her feelings and reactions.

How tremendous! I could never have asked her for such a gift, yet she understood enough about me to see how much offering this trust would mean to me. I was ready to snog her senseless right there. I suppose it's for the best that we actually went forward with the sifting first.

Even though I was doing the reading, I schooled my thoughts and got my mind as calm as possible given my anticipation. With a long look into Hermione's eyes and a deep breath exhaled slowly, I then whispered 'Legilimens'.

"How are my barriers, Holly?"

"Well, to be honest they look impressive but I can walk through them like tissue paper. We'll keep practising together this year and maybe we'll make some real progress."

"I look forward to it!"

I pushed forward into Hermione's mind. It reminded me of a busy traffic rotary, with multiple lanes of thought and memory passing in every direction. I could see silk-like tendrils that trailed from related memories all across her mental landscape. She seemed to sense my presence, because I was next flung into a series of scenes and images that played in fast-forward. Rather than try to force anything, I just allowed her to direct my travels for a bit. I could see her great sympathy for my plight when she was holding me on the train, watching helplessly as my body convulsed with pain, finally releasing the fluid and eggs in a disturbing spurt at the height of my repressed groan. I could feel her moment of disgust and an immediate counter-feeling of sympathy for me. Then I understood how it had shocked her. Saying what had gone on hadn't fully prepared her for seeing me expel the eggs, and her mind started rushing about trying to deal with the strangeness of the experience. Hermione had fallen back to what she was comfortable considering- this was a meta-scientific marvel, and we needed to collect as much information as possible.

I watched as my furious reaction unhinged her ability to handle the situation, and I felt the cold wave of despair wash over her as she realised how horrible she had just been to me. As I left, she sat in horror and wonder at both her own actions and my ability to bounce back from the affront and simply walk away. I could feel her admiration for me and a desperate hope that she might find some way to express her sorrow over what she had done, but she couldn't begin to phrase it and left to cry in the loo.

Hermione continued to play out how she had felt over the next few weeks, and I kept apart of my attention on it, but I had decided I needed to see something she might not want to show me, and I went looking for her memories of the Boxing Day potion mishap. I was convinced of her deep affection and belief in me, but I had to know what more she felt in that one moment where her desires exceeded her restraint.

I found the memories and played through them 'quietly' while still keeping part of my attention where Hermione's focus had first brought me. At the time we were assembled in Myrtle's room, Hermione was excited at the prospect of trying something without permission, and there was a real physical response of pleasure to it. What happened after she took the potion though was borne primarily of the influence of the rising cat-brain. I could hear the change in tone, and she even regarded my stroking of her fur as appropriate attention to one of 'Bastet's chosen' by a human. A Human. She was turned on by my touch, not because it was me but because I happened to be there, and she could smell my own erotic response and felt it would be a fair answer to that pheromonal question to say 'go ahead and pleasure me'. Afterwards her more human perceptions took ascendance and put her in a right state trying to reconcile the dichotomous feelings. I've had my share of inhuman thoughts of late, so I wasn't going to hold it against her, but as I followed the cat-brain's time in her head, I saw that she chose to attract boys. She especially focused on Cedric and the Ravenclaw captain Roger Davies, though Cat-Hermione rejected him afterwards as being dull and too easy to catch. (As a side note, she tried to lure Oliver Wood and discovered he was entirely uninterested in girls. That may explain why the Quidditch chasers always seem so bitchy- he won't respond to their flirting, making their competition with each other for his affections a complete wash.) Hermione hadn't detected my split attention, and when I returned to her primary focus area she was just finishing her memories of reading my letter about breaking into her house. She felt sorry for the circumstance and amused that I should feel at all apologetic for going there, as she considered me closer than a sister and thus within my rights to stay there, which is how she presented it to her parents. They apparently are quite grateful that their daughter finally has a confidant, as she was so lonely in normal school.

Confronted by this obvious division in her affections, I pulled out of her mind in a state of shock.

Hermione just kept looking into my eyes as I sat there facing her on my bed. My Occlumency was forgotten, and all I could do was feel my rising frustration and anguish. I burst into tears then, and Hermione lunged forward to embrace me and hold me to her, saying soothingly "I'm so glad you understand how important you are to me. I can't imagine my life without you in it. I am so sorry for everything that went unsaid. Please tell me you forgive me."

If I hadn't just been inside her head, I would have been jumping for joy at those words, completely misinterpreting her intent. Instead I just held her as close as I could, crying out for the loss of my only opportunity for love. I love her as I would love the one I want to die with, and she loves me like the close sister she never had and always desperately wanted. All that was left for me was tears.



Holly



*



21st August, 1993



Harry,

Still not sure if Florean is a friend, but he is smart and talented. For another round of overpriced desserts, he gave me the best advice about Hermione I could have wanted. Either that or I'm being groomed to take over his shop in a century.

I had gone out early to seek his counsel or at least his sympathy for my plight. I left three galleons on the table again, as my need for his attention was pressing.

"How is it possible that you have once again darkened my patio tables now that your friend has returned?"

"Florean, if I tell you something and insist that it be kept a secret, would you keep it or do I need to ask for an oath or something?"

"Well I should think you would know better than confess anything in an open marketplace, no matter what oath I were to give, and I don't give oaths unless I have wronged someone. That hasn't happened for decades, I assure you. Perhaps I can venture a guess and say you are out of sorts because your feelings for your friend are unrequited."

"That's very astute."

"Thank you. I am a student of human nature by hobby. I think you might find some insight to your situation, as I often do, by observing the nuances of my customers' choice of ice cream. Most people have a favorite flavour of ice cream, but they can easily branch out to other similar flavours without too much concern. You might consider it a kind of preference."

I was beginning to see where Florean was going when he emphasized the word Preference. My unhappiness was momentarily set aside as I tried to parse out the subtext of his monologue, idly sampling a bit of apple turnover with ice cream he had placed in front of me as he sat down.

"It isn't an absolute, my young friend. Preference is a matter of degrees- some may be entirely a fan of fruit in their ice cream, where others cannot stand it at all, while many fall in the space between. Ask anyone which they are and they'll know immediately, but give them a taste when they aren't expecting it and you might win a convert ...or lose a customer, and therein lays the risk. While many who act sophisticated may claim they prefer all types of flavours, there is always some measure of preference. To be indifferent would be a clear indication that one didn't appreciate either end of the spectrum for their true and specific natures. For those that claim their choice is the only reasonable one, there is inevitably a desire to paint the opposition side as insane. Interestingly, these same purists would claim that those who embrace the widest selection as valid are universally gluttons, unable to sate their appetites with a single selection. I assure you that in my business as an ice cream merchant, a wider selection does not lead to more frequent purchases. One must like ice cream, but to enjoy it does not mean one needs it at all times. The young ones are always prone to overindulge, gorging themselves when they find an unrestricted supply. They inevitably end up either having a horrible reaction to one or more samples, or just shock themselves to look back at their choices, ashamed at their indulgences, and carrying the evidence of their mistakes in excess weight for many years. If one has a bad experience with their first taste, they may swear off ice cream forever, but more often than not a less than satisfying experience will lead a person to return to the same flavour. They have no faith that there might be something better out there, and are willing to take the bittersweet experience that they can rely on rather than risk a greater disappointment. Others may decide that another flavour, exactly the opposite of their original bad experience has to taste better than the first that affected them so badly. Sometimes I see customers who insist on mixing scoops, trying to concoct flavours beyond my own carefully balanced selections. Only rarely does this result in an innovation; mostly the customer just ends up becoming sick, losing any appreciation for the individual flavours involved, or even finding that they can no longer stand one of their favorite flavours due the association with the unfortunate incident."

"I think you may have wandered off topic, Mr. Fortescue."

"Please, just Florean. Just plain, simple Florean. I may have strayed a bit from your concern, but I assure you I was still on topic."

Florean nudged his seat closer to mine to ensure a bit more privacy, even though there weren't any other customers about. I found myself staring into his dark brown eyes and getting a little excited with his proximity. Florean cuts a dashing look for being in his fifties, and his eyes are small but expressive. Thankfully Florean shifted the discussion back to my original concern, as he put it.

"Your friend may not be entirely a vanilla girl. She may require subtle inclusions of...cinnamon to expand her palate."

I grinned at the metaphor "Cinnamon?"

"One shouldn't be too wedded to an analogy, but I suspect that you may be characterized as perhaps an unusual cinnamon custard equally suited to caramel topping as for slices of fresh orange or vanilla glace."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because my friend, you seem to like my caramel eyes too much for you to be purely a Girl's girl."

Before I could excuse my blush, Florean again assured me he was happily married and has no designs on my body. "I find your mind so much more ...delectable."

Again I was blushing, but my girlish impulse was tinted with a bit of paranoia. As I reapplied my forgotten Occlumency discipline, Florean shifted back his chair and presented a new bowl from within his robes, this one of a chocolate that seemed unusually red, reminding me a bit of my new hair color.

"Try this, if you would. It is a new flavour but based upon very old recipes. It is a mixture of chocolate and cinnamon, in an old Mayan tradition."

I was grateful for the change in focus and dipped my spoon into the new bowl to take a taste. At first, it was quite scrumptious, better than chocolate alone by far. Then the cinnamon hit and the burning suffused my mouth. In my desperation, I looked for something to ease the burn- ice cream! I took a new taste and the burning was replaced with a soothing wash of ice creamy enjoyment, but then the burn came back. After a second and third round of burn-ease-burn I shoved the dish away from me and simply bore through the discomfort until the burning subsided.

"It seems like you have to enjoy the pain to get to enjoy the flavour, or keep eating it constantly to the exclusion of all else. I kinda like it, but I probably wouldn't order it knowing that ahead of time."

Florean was giving me and the dish a wary look. "Yes, it is unique. I'm thinking of calling it Chocolate LeStrange."

Florean took the bowl away back into the shop, leaving me to ponder all we had talked about. I get his point. Hermione may not see me in the light of being her lover, because she hasn't considered it. I should also consider that Hermione is not the only person in the world I could love. I need to open my mind to the possibilities. The Strange Chocolate has me thinking as well- if I am the Cinnamon and Hermione is the Chocolate, we could be a powerful combination, but there will be pain with the pleasure. Maybe I'm reading too much into this, but at least I feel hopeful again.

After a moment I discretely checked my dessert spoon and my mind for leftover influences and found nothing of note from the confection but there was a little mark on my mental barrier- a sort of calling card. It said 'I just stopped by to say hi, and to say that you have a lovely wall. You should work on the house.'

I've decided Florean is funny but not 'nice', his pleasantness is a smokescreen for a sharp mind and so his value in my estimation just doubled.



Holly



*



31st August, 1993



Harry,

I had several interesting conversations today. The Weasleys came to the Cauldron in preparation for our return to school on the Express. Immediately, Ron was protesting the treatment of his pathetic yellow rat by Hermione's new smush-faced familiar, a half-Kneazle ginger cat I bought for her named Crookshanks. I suppose Scabbers is being unjustly persecuted, as Hermione's angry little friend (who isn't me) has been chasing the rat throughout the entire building since their arrival. I know Crooks isn't hungry. He ate half my ice cream at Florean's this morning before I gave him to Hermione.

Hermione loves her new pet. Crookshanks also likes his new pet. I love Legilimens; it clears the barriers between us animals, if they're willing and smart enough. I've almost got it down without the wand- I didn't want the proprietor at the Creatures shop to be upset with me casting spells on his wares, but he seemed relieved to be unburdened of Crooks' company. The cat definitely is a piece of work and almost wouldn't come with me until I assured him that he wasn't to be my familiar but was intended for someone I could guarantee would have cat affinity. When I explained all this to Hermione, she nearly squealed in excitement, saying I had achieved a temporary Rapport. This is some sort of mutual Legilimens effect that allows mind-to-mind speaking. The effect didn't last long; as soon as I started thinking on anything aside from the conversation or even broke eye contact the link was dropped, but I can see a lot of value in developing this as a skill. Hermione instantly started to practice on Crooks until after her fourth attempt she turned to me and said"How rude! As if I would do that for a cat, even if I do care for him!" Crooks wandered off to find a sunbeam and Hermione left to put his new carrier and supplies with her trunk. That's when the Weasley parents came to speak with me. Without getting pedantic, let's just say they were concerned I might try to hunt down the rogue Sirius Black, given his involvement in our family's misfortune. I assured them that I never go looking for trouble, but usually have a few contingency plans for when trouble finds me. I don't think they were very reassured by that response, but they did seem to feel that they had executed their duty and then went off to see about rooms.



Hermione and I retired to my room to commiserate on mind magic and other research.

"Hermione, I want to talk to you about something."

"Alright."

"I've thought about what you were feeling on the train, and I think you're right. What is happening to me is special, and it makes sense that we should explore what it means."

I then sheepishly brought out the last three eggs I had expelled the night after Florean talked with me about Sirius Black. I had collected them up and put them in a soup bowl, applying the stasis charm after a few failed attempts based upon my spotty memory of Hermione's spell work on the train. Hermione returned my sheepish look as she drew a small mason jar from her purse with the three eggs from the train. We laughed together for a bit then combined the samples in her mason jar.

"Hermione, this will be heading into areas we don't want anyone else to know about. You know that, right?"

"Of course! The whole subject could be deeply humiliating. I would never say anything to embarrass you if I could help it."

"That's not what I mean. Hermione, I am not normal. This is not normal. People might want to kill us for trying to do anything with what are essentially my unborn foetuses. Just tell me you understand that our research in this will probably take us well outside the boundaries of what's covered in Flourish and Blott's"

"Good for you then, you'll be able to get the books on your own!"

"Hermione!"
"Holly, I understand. We are walking into uncharted territory. I won't flinch. I am with you on this. This is for you, to see what might happen and what we can do to make your life better. For damn sure you deserve better."

I nodded to acknowledge her earnest sentiment, and then smiled at her with a wink.

"Oooh, curse for my sake again Hermione! It makes me all tingly!"

Hermione laughed with me, and I felt like I had just added the first dash of cinnamon.



Holly



P.S.: I stopped back at Fortescue's early, before we had to go to catch the Express. I found Florean behind the counter and stared meaningfully into his eyes. "I want more." He pulled out a packed container of the Strange Chocolate charmed to keep it frosty. "Don't rush to eat it. Savor the flavor, Holly."





*

Author's Notes: The ingredients list for Florean's Chocolate Glace was taken from acontainer of Breyer's All Natural, except for the Cheering Draught, of course. In Florean's description of sexual habits like ice cream preferences, please indulge me by not trying too hard to parse out the meaning of every metaphor-as Florean said, you shouldn't get too wedded to an analogy. Cinnamon-Chocolate ice cream was something I actually experienced; the first time I tried it was from a boutique dessert shop in Minneapolis. It was an unusually masochistic choice for a summer's day. Haagen-Dazs now makes a more palatable version called Mayan Chocolate. Florean's speech patterns were lifted from the character Elim Garak on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Read into that what you will.