dedgulung "vexed italicizing trouble magnet" black (regulus) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-05-26 19:12:00 |
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James stared down at the shiny name tag in Mr. Jackson's fat palm. James Potter - Quality Quidditch Expert He reached out to take it with a huge smile but Mr. Jackson closed his hand over it.. "Not yet, Potter," he said with a shake of his massive head and a big smile of his own. "You have to earn this. Sure you've finished training, but you've got to make a sale of your own before you get the tag. And don't be discouraged if it takes all day because Monday mornings are slow as snail pudding. It took Martin three hours, and he's the best we've got," Mr. Jackson reminded cheerfully. James nodded and ran a hand through his hair. "No offense Mr. Jackson, but if there's a person in this store within the next three hours, I'll have sold them something, and Martin's record'll be one for Quidditch for the ages," James laughed. His competitive streak was hard to stifle, even if Martin was a nice enough bloke. There was a jingle at the door from the front though James wasn't able to see who it was. "You care to make a wager then?" Mr. Jackson asked, his eyes gleaming in a way similar to James's. Apparently betting and a competitive streak weren't something James had cornered the market on. James nodded. "I could sell a wand to Olivander himself," he bragged. "Well then. Make this first sell, set the trainee record, and I'll let you take home the box seat tickets I was saving for myself for the next game, and I'll give you the afternoon off, paid, to go watch it. Don't make the sale, and you volunteer to cover Sunday mornings for the rest of the summer," Mr. Jackson challenged. "You've got it," James said. "Easy as pie." The sound of an opening door and soft footsteps announced the arrival of James's first customer -- Regulus had planned on staying in the safety of his home for the rest of his life, considering his brother's last forboding words, but the chances of Sirius finding him in Diagon Alley were so very slim, and he did not wish to raise suspicions amongst his allies by requesting company along with him. He decided it was time he worked through the recent Snitch aversion -- or at least see if he still had one, since he had avoided seeing or thinking about them, just to be safe. A good defense was the best offense. Or something. At first he did not notice his mortal enemy just a few feet away from him -- what did he care who the plebian assisting him would be? Granted, some of his friends worked, but they were the rare non-plebian exceptions, and he knew none of them worked in the Quidditch shop, so it didn't really matter. What mattered was that...being alone was alright, and Sirius had not jumped out and attacked him yet. He was not yet regretting what he had said. All was relatively well. Oh, bloody hell. Ofcourse it would be Regulus. Who else in the fucking world would it be but Regulus Black, in to ruin his day and his chance at Quidditch tickets. Grimacing, he forced himself to put on the politest smile he could manage (though from his reflection in the counter even James could see it looked like he'd just sucked on a lemon) and greeted his least favorite person. "Morning, Reggie. Regulus," he corrected. "Can I help you find something?" The words hurt, they physically hurt, but Mr. Jackson was still standing there, and what else could James do but try? This wasn't only about the tickets, or even the job... the whole point of the job had been to put himself in a better position to be in Diagon Alley to keep an eye on Death Eaters, and now here was one, and he couldn't afford for the whole thing to go down the tubes before it even started. Desperately he tried to think of Lily, or of his mum's chocolate scones, or anything that was somewhat pleasant and didn't involve throttling the prat standing before him. He ran his hands through his hair again, only to reach the bald spot and wince... let Regulus even mention it and fuck the job, he'd ram a beater's bat down his twatty throat. When the words reached Regulus's ears, he momentarily froze. Oh, for crying out loud. James Potter could not actually be in the store. Perhaps it was someone who simply sounded like James Potter. And happened to know Regulus's name. Turning around to visually identify the voice, however, only left him disappointed on the matter. There he was, standing behind the counter in an employee uniform. Why? This always happened. At least he probably could not do anything whilst on the clock. He didn't know for sure how it worked, but it made sense that people who worked would have to behave whilst working. "Oh. It's you," Regulus said in what he felt was an admirably even tone. "Yes, it's me," James said, in a voice that was best reserved for slowish-brained six year olds who wouldn't stop putting their fingers in the pudding. "And I work here now. So if you need help, or if you need to see something, I'll get it for you," he said, truly attempting to sound polite though it was ridiculously strained. Mr. Jackson continued to look on, apparently oblivious to the hostility. He was hovering so near that even if James had wanted to be a smart ass under his breath he wouldn't have been able to manage it. It was a pity really. Think of Lily... Lily would be so disappointed if he lost his job in the first hour he really had it. Regulus still hadn't spoken or moved which was a bit disconcerting really. "You're out in the alley alone?" James asked, realizing that was what seemed off about the situation. "I thought Lestrange was tasked with keeping you safe or something, since I haven't seen you out without him. But don't worry, Reg, you'd be perfectly safe in here without a bodyguard," James goaded ever so slightly. Mr. Jackson was right there, but at least on the surface what he said sounded merely concerned. It would if you didn't know how much animosity lay behind it anyway. "I am an adult, and I do not need a bodyguard." The tightness in Regulus's voice became more evident as he spoke once again, his jaw clenching. "I appreciate your concern for my safety. As for assistance, I am a perfectly competent individual, quite capable of navigating my way through a Quidditch supplies shop." "Oh, that's right, you are seventeen now," James said in a voice that bordered on apologetic. "They grow up so fast," he added, turning to Mr. Jackson who was looking ever so mildly displeased as Regulus's tone made it clear that James had insulted him in some way "May I have a word with you, Mr. Potter, while we leave Mr. Black to browse?" Mr. Jackson asked in his best shop-keep voice which could only mean that James was in trouble now. James nodded and followed the man behind the shelf, where he was scolded for insulting (even if inadvertantly as James claimed) one of their best customers in a tone that was loud enough that James was certain Regulus would be able to hear. "Now go be polite, apologize and make sure he doesn't tell his friends to avoid the shop. Times are tight, James," Mr. Jackson prodded. James could only nod numbly and head back out to find Regulus. Biting his tongue the entire way, literally, it was numb when he found Sirius's brother. "I'm sorry I was rude," James said immediately wanting to get it out of the way since it stung his lips. "You're a customer and I should treat you like one. They've got everything locked up because of all the trouble recently, so if you need something I'll have to pull it out for you. I've got the keys," he said, jingling them toward Regulus in as non-threatening a manner as he could even if all he wanted to do was smack him upside the head with them. There were not very many things in the world that could make Regulus Black smile, but that forced apology was one of the most beautiful things he had heard in his life -- even if it had been forced by the store's owner, the fact that there was sway with the store owner coupled with an apology from Potter pulled the corner of his mouth up into a small smirk (disguised as smile, naturally). It was enough to banish Sirius's words from his mind, restoring -- if for the moment -- a sense of confidence that his breeding intended for him to have. "It is fortunate that your wise and thoughtful overseerer has more manners than you do." He squared his shoulder in a rather aristocratic way, his voice quiet as ever but possessing just enough volume to carry to the older man as Regulus was careful not to actually accept the apology. The words were not unkind, nor combative, but how fun it was to play this game. He did not consider the store owner to be worthy of flattery by his own merit, but if such a thing could be used against Potter, even in a petty and insignificant way...well, Regulus did not have very many hobbies to speak of. He found this situation lending him far more grace than his run-ins with James usually did -- he had somehow managed to get a grip of the power, and truly, how nice it felt to have Potter forced to be nice to him. "I will be sure to...inform you if I see anything I wish to examine and consider," he finished off, forcing the small smile from his face and isolating the amusement to his eyes, instead. James nodded and just as he'd been trained to do, politely followed Regulus at a close distance in case he needed anything. Waiting on Regulus Black. James wanted to throw up. And the look on Reg's face... It was going to haunt his nightmares. Momentarily James let his mind wander to images of quitting in spectacular fashion and shoving the boy into a rack of brooms, but wasn't that letting him win? If it was James, what he would want most from this situation would be to get Regulus fired. To ruin things for him. And he wasn't about to let that happen to himself. He patiently, or as patiently as he could, continued to hover near Regulus, under the watchful eye of Mr. Jackson. It seemed like the time was dragggggggging by. How long was Regulus going to stay in the store? All afternoon? Nevermind that James himself had long been known to spend hours on end browsing the shelves, suddenly it seemed every minute Reg was in the store was meant as punishment specifically for him. Unable to maintain this mind-crumbling silence and hoping to get Regulus to hurry the fuck up, James spoke again. "Is there anything particular you're looking for?" he asked, seeing Mr. Jackson nod in a pleased manner that James was apparently trying. "I'm sure I could help make your choice easier if you had something specific in mind." I hate you. I hate you. I hope you die in a fire you Death Eating, Sirius-tormenting, useless-pansy-waste of air. "If you could give me a touch more space, that would be lovely," Regulus said in reference to the hovering -- not suggesting that he oughtn't be hovering, but off-handedly suggesting James did not understand the proper hovering distance. He had not come in for anything specific, really, other than examining the Snitches, but he wished to get at least a bit of a run out of it, considering it was not every day that such an opportunity arose. Scanning the shop, his eyes fell on the more expensive brooms secured firmly to the wall. The most expensive model out at the moment was at the very top, and he had been given it for Christmas, but they seemed to be the most inconvenient thing in the store, so brooms, it was. "I would like to take a look at that one," he said, pointing up at the brooms; the most expensive one was very near another, so he was careful to make it seem as though he was pointing to the lesser one. "Sorry," James mumbled, as it was pointed out that he'd been standing too near. What else could he say? That's what a normal salesperson would say, and that's all this was. James was a salesperson and Regulus was the world's most annoying customer. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary really. Of course he'd need to look at the broom nearly at the top, and as all of the brooms were locked with a key for security and weren't accessible merely with a spell, James had to drag a ladder from the corner, climb it, balance as he unlocked the cabinet, fetch the broom, relock it (that was the rule) and then bring it back down to Regulus. "Here you go," James said, handing him the broom that he'd indicated. "It'd be a good broom for you," he lied. "You favor your left and it's balanced for the left." In all honesty, this was a crap broom for Regulus, but what did James care? He'd say anything to get Regulus out of the store. "Oh..." Regulus began, very subtly furrowing his eyebrows and turning to face the brooms more squarely to hide his face from Mr. Jackson -- just in case there were any slips. "Oh dear. I actually meant the other one. The one right by it. The nicer one," he said, this time clearly pointing to the more expensive broom. "Also, I favour my right, not my left...so I'm afraid this broom would not work, even if it had been the one I pointed to," he said, keeping his voice perfectly regulated, a slightly smug expression, raised eyebrows and all, as the only indicator of there being anything other than the ordinary in the words. "Oh, my mistake," James said. "On both accounts." Taking the broom back from Regulus he grabbed the ladder again, went back up, unlocked the cabinet, switched out the brooms, relocked the cabinet and climbed back down, all the time forcing himself to keep from mumbling what an intolerable fuckwit Regulus was. James was already thinking about how he'd tell Sirius that Reg was acting. If there was anyone else in the world that couldn't stand this innocent act, it was Sirius. "I suppose after a year I'd forgotten what your flying style looked like," he added, hoping that at least this much would sound polite even to Mr. Jackson. "Who ended up taking over as the Slytherin Seeker this year?" he asked innocently. He had no idea if Regulus missed Quidditch as much as he missed it himself, but it hurt James to his core to think of someone else chasing in his spot and he was hoping that even though the question sounded perfectly polite it might eat at Regulus. He needed to do something to keep his sanity. "I'm sure you were hard to replace," he added for good measure. "You'd have really been amazing on a broom like this," he said appreciatively, giving the broom a light stroke. No matter how much James hated Regulus he wouldn't take it out on a broom. That would be criminal. Regulus resisted the urge to crinkle his nose, to purse his lips, to furrow his eyebrows; in fact, he made it a point to keep his face entirely neutral, if at all possible. He, too, did not wish to see people replacing him, and it bothered him (more than he would admit) to abandon his position as Seeker on the Quidditch team, as well as one of the Slytherin prefects. He did not like for people to swoop in, but he told himself that he was doing better things. Better things to eradicate filth like Potter, or at least to silence them while the Muggle threat was addressed. "I'm afraid I do not know," he began. "I have been so wrapped up in my school work here to bother myself with what is going on at Hogwarts. Perhaps upon the return of my former classmates, I might inquire." James nodded. Regulus had shown no reaction at all to his inquiry, but in keeping his face looking a bit like some inbred statue, it was plenty to make James believe he'd struck him in some way. "Well, would you like to buy the broom or did you simply want to get a feel for it?" James asked, careful not to accuse Regulus of wasting his time though he was convinced that's what the boy was doing. "We have an owl set up if you aren't allowed to buy anything without permission," he added, which was a perfectly allowable statement that was in the employee handbook. He even managed to keep the look of irritation off of his face mostly. There was a jingle at the door and another customer entered. Thank Godric. Mr. Jackson gave the two boys one last look and headed up to the front. James was tempted to instantly rip the broom out of Regulus's hand and tell him to get the fuck out of the store if he knew what was good for him, but he managed to keep his temper in check. He looked at him expectantly. "Oh, I require no permission -- I am allowed to buy whatever I please, but upon closer inspection, it has struck me that I already have this broom...I do apologise for the inconvenience -- what, with you having to climb all the way up to the top," Regulus said in his best faux-apologetic voice as Mr. Jackson walked by, his expression remained frozen the same, save the glance he gave James -- as if daring him to say anything. Even without the supervisor watching them as closely, Regulus could see that the Snitches were in the general area of where the new customer was. Most likely not close enough to necessarily be noticed by the other customer and supervisor if they were not listening, but still close enough that James would have to work for any muttered insults. Regulus was perfectly prepared to not care. His mood was far too bright. Without another word to James, Regulus began walked to that bit of the store, pausing momentarily to look at Quidditch robes (more to waste Potter's time than anything else, as Regulus had nothing better to do) before settling on the Snitches. The golden flash brought back the alley and 'ghost' or whatever it was, but -- but he shut off the thoughts. It was getting a bit easier. Closing his fingers around one of the tiny Snitches, he examined it, still seeing James vaguely with his peripheral vision. James followed Regulus around the store, just like he was supposed to do, even if it was mildly embarassing to have to act like some sort of servant in regards to Sirius's brother. When he headed toward the snitches, James had to refrain from smirking or taunting. Was this some sort of test or did he really need one? Somehow James had the feeling it was the prior. "Miss the way they feel?" he asked, leaning against the counter. "Being away from the team and all," he clarified, making it clear he wasn't referencing the fact that Regulus had been chased by a ghost snitch. Of course he meant the ghost snitch, but there was no way to prove it if he had. Merlin's Balls, all James wanted to do was taunt Regulus and it was taking every fiber of sense he had in him to keep his mouth shut and not shout "BOO!" Stupid Regulus, always making things impossibly difficult. Moving the Snitch around in his fingers, Regulus pursed his lips very gently. He still wasn't sure if the event with the ghost and the Snitch was a figment of his imagination or some sort of involved 'prank,' but if it was a sick prank (and with all the time that had passed, he was beginning to feel more confident that he was in fact not losing his mind), James would be the culprit. But he didn't seem to be showing any signs of guilt, so Regulus remained cautious and watchful. His pleasant mood had yet to fade, and truly, he hated to end such a pleasant opportunity to make Potter uncomfortable, but he supposed he ought to get back to the Transfiguration waiting for him at home... "It is unfortunate to be separated from my old teammates, but the opportunity to be more focused than before is useful in its own right." He set the Snitch back down in the pile. "Oh sure," James said, forcing himself not to roll his eyes. "Definitely what you were lacking in life was focus," he agreed as politely as he could manage. "If there's nothing else you need Mr. Black I'll see to customers that plan on making purchases," he added, but once again, it sounded hardly as venomous as he wished it would. The forced politeness was nearly gagging him but he still managed to keep the look of disgust off his face since Mr. Jackson was close. "There is no need to be rude. There are times when a person enters a shop and does not feel a compulsion to buy something, and although you will claim it was a reasonable thing to say, I do not appreciate your tone of voice. It sounds to me as if you consider a customer who does not buy something every time he sets foot in the shop is a customer unworthy of your time...and that is not a very good message to send out," Regulus said evenly, looking straight at James and seeing to it that his voice carried to Mr. Jackson without making it obvious. At the very least, Potter would have a complaint on his hands, minor or not. "Good day," he said in a way that did not entirely suggest that he wished James's day to be pleasant at all, but even as he was turning to leave the shop, he could not help but feel a sense of accomplishment, over all. As he moved back into the crowds of Diagon Alley's streets, he could go as far as to say it was a personal success of sorts -- enjoyable at the very least. It was a nice feeling. |