The Bear and Barnacle

Victoire hangs up the phone, frowning. That certainly didn't go as planned. She fully had intended on telling the supplier that his product was disappointed for the cost. Instead, she told him outright that wasn't worth a third of what he was charging and unless he made a dramatic improvement in price or quality (perhaps making it in silicone) she would not be purchasing the Slithering Snake Sleeve again and would be cautioning her customers away from the two in the store.

Definitely not a Slytherin moment for Victoire. Or a profitable one. Words are a means to an end and when the words seem to come regardless of intention, Victoire is at a loss.

When she answers a customer's query about a vaginal pump by telling her that they don't really make them large enough suit someone over the 15 stone she must be instead of tactfully and sensitively commiserating on the product's limitations, Victoire promptly closes shop after giving the woman an apology in the form of a very expensive vibrator.

She notes the date and decides to make a few phone calls to other Margate imports to find out if this is a wider problem or isolated to her.

Things went as close to her plan as possible, she thinks afterward. Teddy was at work, no doubt buried in the Ministry archives, at the time. Minerva had just come by to check on her and the shop. Fleur was home, in the middle of sewing project. The witch midwife had just woken up from a nap. It was late enough in the day that Bill was done in Gringott's vaults and was doing paperwork at his desk.

So when Victoire realised this set of contractions weren't stopping or slowing, everything clicked into place. ( About damn time too. )

Feel free to comment for RP. I couldn't get this to really be or end differently and I know it sounds like it doesn't invite it but we do! Victoire'll probably be through to the pub in a few days with the baby or, if it make sense, she will be making a few phone/floo calls. Whatever! If someone wants to play with us... *eyebrow waggle*

It's not that she needs it. There's nothing indicating it's a necessity. No driving reason to make her way to the glass-fronted office that smells alarmingly of nothing rather than the warm smells of bubbling potions and drying herbs of the last specialist she sought out. Nothing other than simple curiosity. And Victoire was never curious for very long.

So she sits and waits... and waits. Then is finally led down a empty hallway into a windowless room where she takes a seat on something that looks like a failed transfiguration, not quite a chair and not quite a bed. A man wheels up next to her, looking at his machine rather than her as he asks her to lift her shirt and pull her skirt and knickers down. She stares a moment at him then tartly asserts that she'd rather know the name of the man telling her to undress. He starts and blushes satisfactorily and mutters that his name is David. She smiles, wickedly, as she lays back and does as he asks, pleased when he blushes and nearly drops the plastic-looking wand in his hand.

A heavy glop of lube momentarily distracts her but then Victoire watches entranced as the images begin resolving into clarity and into recognizable forms. Her breath catches in those first moments and it's not until she leaves the office, a small folder in her hand, that she really catches it again.

While she's waiting for a street light to change she opens the folder up, delicately touching the image inside.



"Bonjour, ma petite..."

Victoire has done a lot of things in her 18 years. Not all of them legal and many of them worthy of her curse-breaking, prisoner-releasing, drug-toking, brother-shagging father... though he's presumably not done any of those things since marrying Victoire's Maman. At least, not that Victoire's caught him at and she most certainly has been watching for any and all of it.

There was the very profitable underground business at Hogwarts, selling her (and Teddy's) undergarments. And her talent at Charms and Potions which were not always used as Professors Flitwick and Snape intended when they taught them to a class of eager students and one very creative part-Veela. And then there was the very naked night in the barn behind Shell Cottage with Teddy, two of her cousins, and her cousin's girlfriend. Not to mention the myriad ways she'd arranged, maneuvered, convinced, guided, bribed, coerced, encouraged, persuaded, threatened, enticed anyone she could to get just what she wanted and more or less when she wanted it. She was a Slytherin after all, and very proud to be one.

But she's never actually attacked anyone with the intent to reduce them into nothingness.

Until now. Until she eats one of Ivonka's brownies and realised that it is the cause of the sudden mellowness she feels, the easy smile which curves her lips, and her overall lack of concern about the free flashes of pale blue lace she is giving the pub.

But when she puts these things together and realises what was happening and who is behind it, she snaps. Eyes flashing with an unnatural blue fire, she storms into the kitchen and corners the smirking cook who after a moment has the grace to look moderately surprised by the rage she is facing just before Victoire throws herself at the woman and starts clawing at her, fingertips stuttering over the skin as they stick and release and stick again, while the pots start to rattle ominously.

Victoire has come to a Decision. This is not unusual as Victoire is a decisive sort, but this one she has made will be for the Good of Margate. (She, like her father and most of the decent Slytherins, had a tendency to think in capitals.) She, like so many, was trapped here in this town- facing a sea so unlike the one she grew up with. No cliffs, no distant view of Wales on clear days. And nothing to keep her entertained and occupied as Teddy was too easily distracted by the mystery surrounding the town to permit endless days of shagging. She could only pout so long before she needed something else to do.

And Margate was sorely lacking in a store of an adult nature from which she could purchase items to distract Teddy from his Ravenclaw nature.

The Decision was only natural and logical, and of course, Right. She would open a store for the lovers in the town- she had seen enough of those: the men who ran the pub, the American and that blue man, and she was beginning to wonder about the two Victorians. Suffice it to say, this town needed a reputable source for articles of romance and hedonism. And Victoire needed an occupation.

Now she only needs a shop with an attached flat... and a good amount of start up capital. And an investor who could see the benefit (socially and financially) for such venture. Victoire had just the person in mind.

( But first she had to tell Teddy )

Victoire finishes packing the small basket with the last apple as well as a hunk of fresh goat cheese and bread, placing them atop the cold chicken. After a moment of thought, she opens a cupboard and takes out a small bottle of wine and puts that in as well.

Tall and slightly shaggy-haired, Teddy lingers by the open doorway, face tipped to the sun and breeze with a beach blanket draped across his arm as he waits. He glances back at his girlfriend with a raised brow at the wine. "Isn't that your dad's?"

( More than Bill's wine is about to go missing. )