Title: Cookies and Soup Author: reallyginnyf Word Count: 1800 words of pure fluffliness. Characters: Alstromeria, Severus and an OC. Disclaimer: The only thing I own is a sense of deep gratitude to JKR for creating such a wonderful world to play in and such complex characters to play with. Author's Notes: I fell completely in love with Allie and the Alliverse after watching littleblackbow 's first video. I'm first and foremost an H/C writer and don't do slash, so I immediately envisaged a fluffy little bit of sweetness to enjoy all on my own. I was thrilled when this asylum was created so I would have somewhere to post a story that simply wouldn't leave me in peace. This is part one of a two part story. Thanks, LBB. *squeezes you*
"Hello?" she called, raising her voice. On any other day Elizabeth might have enjoyed the view from her vantage point outside the tiny cottage, but not today. Not when she couldn't see a damn thing through the driving rain. Not with a biting wind tossing sodden strands of hair into her face.
She shivered and knocked again. She hadn't made a mistake, had she? This was the prearranged date and time, she was certain of it, but leave it to Eamon to bodge things up. Eamon. Oh, he was going to pay when she finally returned to the office. He was going to pay with a nice dinner at the toniest restaurant she could think of on the drive back.
The door finally opened a crack and there he was, Mr. Smith himself, staring at her with an expression of commingled suspicion and puzzlement. Elizabeth smiled as best she could, considering she had lost the feeling in her cheeks, but he offered no smile or greeting in return, just raised his eyebrows impatiently, clearly awaiting her explanation.
"Julie couldn't make it today," she said, wondering why she suddenly felt guilty. He nodded and just as she took a step forward, he closed the door in her face. He wasn't going to leave her standing out in this bloody awful weather, was he? But as she heard his footsteps receding, she realized that was exactly what he intended to do. Well, Eamon could go hang if he expected her to do this again. What was the point? The mysterious Mr. Smith couldn't use email, like everyone else? Or even standard mail, for pity's sake?
Elizabeth wrapped her arms tightly around herself and huddled as close to the door as she could. She was going to freeze to death and all so she could drop off his pay and collect the next installment of articles. She was sunk so deeply into her inner misery that the sudden opening of the door startled her. She expected to see his dour face again, but instead there was a sliver of the cottage interior visible. Elizabeth lowered her gaze and saw a little girl peering up at her, with the same dark hair and solemn eyes as Mr. Smith, and even the suggestion of his nose, bless her.
"Daddy shouldn't have left you standing out here," the girl said seriously, pushing the door open fully.
Elizabeth hesitated, her mind trying to come to terms with the word "daddy" as applied to Mr. Smith before she replied. "I'm okay," she said, casting a longing look into the room. The cottage, although small, was immaculately kept and blessedly warm, but she valued her life too highly to walk in without his permission.
"No, you're not." the girl said. "You're shivering." And at this, she looked so grave that Elizabeth relented. She was very cold, and surely there would be no harm in standing just inside the door? She could always dive straight back out if he threatened her.
"Thank you, uh....?"
"I'm Alstromeria," the girl said, shutting the door carefully behind her.
"How pretty. The name of a flower, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is. But everyone calls me Allie."
"I see." She pushed the hood of her jacket back as the warmth began to seep back into her body. "Well, it's very nice to meet you, Allie. I'm Elizabeth."
They regarded each other silently for a moment.
"Why didn't Julie come today?" Allie asked. "I liked her."
Elizabeth sighed. Now there were three people unhappy with her presence at the house. "Julie is ill," she explained.
"Just like me," Allie said, and at this she studied the girl a little more closely. She did appear a little flushed and as she talked, her words were punctuated with delicate sniffles.
"Oh, dear. You do sound as though you've a cold." Allie's eyes were huge as she nodded and Elizabeth instinctively reached out to cup her face in her hands. "And you feel warm."
Her heart clenched in her chest when Allie, rather than pulling away, closed her eyes and leaned into her touch. She looked so weary, poor thing. And where was her mother? There were bundles of herbs drying by the windows, a pleasant spicy smell in the air, but nothing else to suggest a woman lived here. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" she asked gently.
Elizabeth looked up then, a small sound of fright escaping her as she stumbled backwards. Mr. Smith was standing right next to her, but she hadn't heard him approach. His demeanor was forbidding, his posture stiff and his lips thinned out with barely suppressed-anger. She had crossed a line by entering his house and Elizabeth could read the warning in his eyes, to stay clear of his daughter. He silently thrust a thick envelope into her hands and she could feel the rustle of heavy parchment within. Although no words had passed between them, she found herself in complete agreement with him: It was time to conclude their business and get the hell out of here.
She pulled her bag around from where it was resting against her back and lifted the flap, tucking the envelope away securely. She withdrew a smaller envelope and passed it to Mr. Smith, who took it and immediately crossed the room to his desk against the opposite wall. That was that, then. No 'thank you.' No 'goodbye.'
"You're leaving now?" Allie asked. Elizabeth looked back to the girl, her thoughts interrupted. She had nearly forgotten she was standing there.
"I suppose I am," she said. "It was sweet of you to invite me in," she added in a louder voice, staring at his back, but he gave no indication whatsoever that he had heard her.
Allie glanced over at her father. "Don't feel bad," she said in a low voice. "He didn't let Julie come inside for almost a month."
Elizabeth smiled wryly at that but just as she opened her mouth to reply, Allie sneezed suddenly. She had tried to be polite about it, but was sniffling like mad now, her hands cupped to her face. A second sneeze drew her father's attention and he headed towards them, searching his pockets for a handkerchief but coming up empty.
"Bless you," Elizabeth said, reaching into her jacket. Her fingers closed gratefully on a clean handkerchief, which she offered to Allie.
She shook her head. "It's too pretty," Allie said, eyeing the crocheted edge of the handkerchief, her voice muffled behind her hands. "I don't want to get it messy."
She was all girl, this one, with an appreciation for lovely, frilly things that seemed beyond the understanding of men. "Well, that's what it's for, after all, " Elizabeth said, kneeling by her and gently wiping her face. "Do you need any help blowing your nose?" she asked, and the look she received from Allie in return was so disgusted and impatient and reminiscent of her father that Elizabeth had to smother a laugh.
Mr. Smith was watching their exchange, remaining silent as usual. When Allie had finished, he led her towards the couch, where a rumpled quilt and a well-loved teddy waited for her. She smiled at her father as he settled her in.
"I hate having a cold," Allie said to no one in particular, flopping back to the pillow in an overly-dramatic fashion. "I can't play outside. I can't have Jimmy over. I have to rest. And Daddy wants me to take Pep..." and at this, she stopped her litany and looked up at her father, a guilty expression crossing her face. "...medicine," she corrected herself. "But I won't. It tastes terrible."
At this, Mr. Smith glanced over at Elizabeth, his expression resigned but also amused, one corner of his mouth quirking into a wry smile. Elizabeth smiled back and somehow knew they were thinking the same thing: Good luck getting this little girl to do anything she didn't wish to.
"You should listen to your father, Allie," she said. "He just wants you to get better."
He looked back to Allie, his eyebrows raised as if to say, "You see?" Elizabeth studied him as he tucked the quilt around her. In this unguarded moment, some of the hardness had left his features and although he seemed bowed under the weight of great sadness, his eyes were kind as he looked at his daughter and his hands were steady and sure as he smoothed her hair.
"And I know what might help with the taste of the medicine," Elizabeth said, digging into her satchel once again. She had a weakness for boiled sweets and always carried some around with her. She was nearly certain there were a few lemon drops remaining in the crumpled bag. "They're very nice if your throat is sore, too."
Father and daughter watched with identical expressions of puzzlement as she approached the couch with a small, striped bag in her hand, holding it out towards Mr. Smith for his approval. His face was unreadable as he peered inside, but his hands shook noticeably as he returned it to her, and Elizabeth thought she saw mometary grief cross his features.
Allie sat up and eagerly dug into the bag when Elizabeth offered it. "Lemon drops!" she squealed. "Can I have one now, Daddy?"
Mr. Smith sighed and nodded, his eyes softening once again as he watched his daughter.
"I should go now," Elizabeth said, surprised to find that she wasn't eager to leave at all, but when no one said anything, she zipped her jacket and pulled the hood over her head. It was a long walk back to her car and the weather hadn't let up a bit.
Allie's head appeared suddenly over the arm of the couch.
"Are you coming back?"
The question was very blunt and the look on Allie's face was hopeful, but Elizabeth could tell she was someone who had her expectations dashed before and couldn't bear to be dishonest with her now.
"I don't know," she said. "But I hope you feel better soon."
Allie smiled her lovely, sweet smile and snuggled down into the quilt. As Elizabeth turned to leave, Mr. Smith was at her side again, but this time holding the door open for her graciously. She stopped just past the threshold of the door and looked at him for a moment before speaking hesitantly.
"If you need anything..." she began. "Or, I mean, if Allie needs anything, you'll...you'll let me know, won't you?"
The smile he gave her then was wan and didn't touch his eyes. "Thank you," he said, and his voice was nothing more than a hoarse, ruined whisper. She flinched at the sound of it, unable to hide her reaction. He closed the door and she rested her hand against the weathered, rough wood.