wl_mods (![]() ![]() @ 2011-03-02 00:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | *fic, 2011, lisa, michael |
Special delivery for roses_at_sunset
Title: Some Things Begin As Ice
Author/Artist:
Recipient's LJ name: roses_at_sunset
Pairing: Michael Corner/Lisa Turpin
Rating: R
Summary: A case involving potions analysis force Michael and Lisa to finally deal properly with each other
Word Count: ~23,500 words
Warnings/Content: None
Disclaimer: The characters and situations do not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author Notes: roses_at_sunset, trust me when I say this is not the pairing I intended to write, as looking at your list the rest were much more suited to my 'norm'. Then, somehow, this happened. I really really hope you enjoy it, because working with characters of minimal canon is a worrisome thing in exchanges, and I struggled with this a fair bit.
Two witches walked into a pub.
Said like that, it sounded like the beginning of a dirty joke, but for Michael Corner, it was reality. He had been sitting at a table in the Leaky, nursing a pint and waiting for Anthony and Terry to show up, when the flash of a red sari from the door caught his attention. It might be Wizarding London he was sitting in, rather than out of the way Tutshill, but most of the population was stereotypically British. It didn't take identifying her features to guess at Padma's identity; once upon a time he might have considered her sister as an option, but the latter tended to favour Muggle clothes that were often some shade of pink. Not that one really needed that sort of aid in telling the twins apart. Parvati was everything smiling and light, while Padma always seemed vaguely disapproving. He gave a wave and a half nod to Padma, who only narrowed her eyes slightly in response.
As she turned to levitate her cloak over to the wall, Michael saw the woman who was with her.
Lisa Turpin.
He gave the same acknowledgement, but her response was only slightly friendlier. It bothered him from her a little more however than it did the other witch. Nothing he could do though had ever been able to break through the shell, either of theirs – since school at least. Their group might not have been Slytherin, but their common room had been nothing like what he had always pictured that of the 'Puffs and the Gryffindors to be, full of easy camaraderie. They were a group by default, even now that they had all left school, but sometimes he wondered at the strength of the bond.
Merlin forbid if he'd decided to become an underling in a clothing shop, or a clerk for the Weasleys, or something with a similar lack of intellectual stimulation. Michael doubted any of them would have talked to him in the same way they did now.
He was always the one who had probably been considered the most likely to do something like that probably, in their Ravenclaw group. Not that any of them knew that he and the Sorting Hat had had a long discussion over his suitability for Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw. From what they could observe he was the one who cared the least about academic success, and the one who achieved it anyway despite his indifference, much to the consternation of some. They probably wouldn't have been surprised if he had decided not to care about prestige and the intellectually stimulating nature of his career and dedicated his life to farming flobberworms.
Michael turned his attention to the pint in front of him, though he had already taken in every aspect of Lisa's appearance, from the business set of robes she wore, to the fullness of her face. The latter was a welcome sight, considering. For while she'd looked so weary and gaunt even he'd wanted to feed her. At the very least he'd wanted to ship her off to his mum for an extended vacation. Yolanda Corner would have pampered her to death, like she tried to with Michael every time he came home, though he couldn't imagine anything else that would make Lisa any more uncomfortable.
He fully expected them to search for a table on their own, but it was the afternoon of the Quidditch match – Falcons versus Harpies, and every table in the pub was filled in anticipation of the broadcast on the wireless in a half hour or so. He felt a wry sort of amusement as Lisa and Padma shot each other a look before making their way over to the table he sat at on his own.
"Do you mind?" Lisa asked, motioning towards the empty seats.
"Of course he doesn't mind," Padma sat down without waiting for an invitation, arranging her clothes carefully. "It's not like he's going to be meeting a woman here or anything."
"Just Terry and Michael," he said mildly, kicking out one of the other chairs for Lisa to sit in. She hesitated only slightly before taking her seat.
"Terry might be a close enough substitute then," Padma said archly, motioning towards the bar for a menu to be levitated over.
Michael snorted, he couldn't help it, disloyal as it was to his mate. Years now since Hogwarts, and he still didn't understand Padma. Sometimes he wasn't sure if she was taking the piss, or meaning a serious insult. Considering Terry was on the pull more often than not, even if he had been graced with the longest eyelashes one had ever seen on a bloke and a fondness for listening to serials on the wireless, Michael chose to believe the former in this instance. Sometimes Padma could seem like, well, an uptight bitch at times. Merlin knew how she managed a career in inter-wizarding relations, but the Ministry seemed to like her for it. Somehow she and Lisa had always been close though, despite the fact that Michael wasn't sure Padma actually liked people.
Not that Lisa was warm and cuddly. Her attitude was one of icy reserve though, more than a seeming attitude of contempt.
"Here to listen to the match?" He asked by way of making conversation.
"No," Lisa said, grabbing one of the menus that flew over from the former Puff behind the bar, "but it's a nice side benefit if Padma decides to linger over her drink." The other woman snorted, and waved her hand dismissively. She'd been one of the few who had little use for the sport. Lisa had done her turn at chaser for the Claws for a few years, and could discuss the major players in the professional world, but Michael was fairly sure her interest had always been rather...academic. Of course, even the most rabid fan was usually quite analytical, so she wasn't unique in that. "I'm going home to visit my mother after though." She didn't elaborate beyond that.
He tended to forget about the Leaky's purpose as serving as a gateway to the Muggle world. He had only ever used it once in that respect himself, during a trip with a Muggleborn co-worker for a non-magical potion ingredient the stores in Diagon Alley had been low on. He was fairly sure he'd come off like a complete arse, fascinated by everything around him. At least he was a Ravenclaw, who had been fascinated from a more academic perspective, not a Slytherin who was disgusted with every difference he saw.
From what he knew though, the very Muggleborn Lisa didn't go back often. Not that he would know that from her. It was the second hand gossip of the Ravenclaw network.
She hadn't talked to him properly since school, not that they had ever been best mates in school. He fully admitted he'd tried the hardest with her though. There was something that drew him too her, both in the past and now. It wasn't just trying to achieve the unattainable – if that was the allure he'd have been lusting after Padma nearly as much. There had been a thawing, a slight thawing, over a study session late one night in the library, and Michael had been given hope.
And then Voldemort and the Death Eaters happened, and things changed - even if he still wasn't sure why it had ruined a chance of anything between them.
"How is work?" Michael asked, as pondering on that slid through his mind.
"Just fine," Padma raised her eyebrows, "I've been tasked to sit on the Ministry team that's going to conduct negotiations with the Canadian wizards about...." She gave a terse smile when he shot her a look. "Oh, I suppose you weren't asking me, were you? Please, do go on discussing your potions," on her lips the word sounded somehow derogatory, "while I sit here and contemplate the state of measly world affairs."
"You're just bitter about the fact you couldn't get into the NEWT potions class," Michael couldn't resist needling her, even if it was a very old topic. Especially because he knew despite that fact it was guaranteed to get a response.
On cue, Padma narrowed her eyes at him. "I didn't want to study potions anyway," she stressed, "but honest to Merlin, letting Ron Weasley in with the exact same mark despite the fact he couldn't brew his way out of a paper bag, when it was 'strongly suggested' by our head of house to avoid the class despite the new technicality." The memory still left a sour look on her face. Padma, and to be fair, most Ravenclaws really didn't take well to not being top at everything academically. That only four of their number had got into the potions class sixth year was still a sore spot.
However Michael let his attention turn to Lisa, whom he'd meant to ask the question of anyway. She had been one of the four, along with him, Terry, and Anthony Goldstein. Though she'd sat her NEWTs months later than him, she'd gotten the coveted potions consultant job for the Ministry of Magic. He had been relegated to something sadly and humiliating commercial, working in experimental brewing for 'Potent Potions', the largest potions conglomerate in Britain. If he were the bitter sort, he might have considered the offering of the Ministry position to Lisa to be a result of the bending over backwards for Muggleborns that had followed Voldemort's reign.
And, well, he could be at times – but he knew Lisa had come by the job honestly. She had always been the best of them, though he was a close second if he said so himself.
"Is this an attempt then to get me to break the secrecy contract I signed with the Ministry?" Lisa asked with raised eyebrows.
"Never," he held a hand over his heart, "I swear. Just making pleasant conversation." In reality the conversation hadn't been all altruistic and in the name of making small talk. The Ravenclaw part of him twitched to know the cases she was brought in on. Interesting potions, dark potions, crimes using potions, old formulas found – the Ministry got all the good stuff. With work in experimental potions the only interest was from formula inventions he created himself, which wasn't quite the same thing usually. At least he wasn't one of the drones brewing standard potions all day. He'd have to Avada himself if that was the case.
"So how is brewing for the commercial gods?" Lisa asked with arched eyebrows.
Michael whistled. "Low blow. At least I'm given free rein in development. Aren't you just brought it to advise on others brilliant ideas most of the time?"
Her eyes narrowed in a way that was much too reminiscent of Padma. "Who is getting petty now?"
"So basically discussing work is out then," he said with a laugh, "considering I think some variant of this happens every time."
"So what does that leave then considering we're both married to our jobs?"
"Ancient runes?" It was Terry's voice interrupting them as he plopped down in the last remaining chair. He grinned, leaning back, his tall frame barely fitting under the table. "I admit I'm biased though. It's just because I know I can win any argument on that every time. You lazy sods never bothered to learn anything beyond the cursory amount on the subject." An interpreter for the National Wizarding Museum, he could certainly talk circles around them on runes. None of the rest of the Claws had taken it to the NEWT level, deeming it too irrelevant.
"At least you can discuss your work," Anthony said, sounding morose, transfiguring himself a chair out of a bar napkin and sitting down. Not that that was an unusual occurrence. Anthony always sounded morose and serious, and was a man of few words. Unless he was cheering for the Falcons, at which point he became much livelier.
"Please," Lisa said, "you enjoy the fact your secrecy requirements are much more stringent than even mine. I have top level clearance at the Ministry, and even I don't know exactly what you do." An Unspeakable, Anthony literally could not discuss anything about his work. It was true though for all he might pretend otherwise, he was a little too smug about that fact, pointing it out as often as possible.
"Nobody is ever going to marry you," Padma said, "considering your whole life will be a secret to them."
"Nobody was ever going to marry him anyway," Lisa replied, her tone even rather than with obvious humour another woman might have implied, "I mean, it's Anthony."
Despite the fact that males outnumbered the females in the group that still maintained contact from their house, Michael was fairly sure the three of them were always at the disadvantage. It took a lot to keep up with the women's level of insulting indifference and well...just plain insult. He had been annoyed when Terry and Michael had sat down, considering he enjoyed even just getting a chance to bicker with Lisa, but it was easy to smile and wave for another pint. Despite the fact he could be frustrated with them at the best of times, it was nice to have the Claws together. It didn't happen all that often – they weren't the sentimental type.
"Not everybody's end goal is marriage," Terry pointed out lazily, "there are many cultures that even look on monogamy as an aberration. Try not to paint us all with your enthnocentric brush Miss Patil."
It was gratifying for Michael to see it wasn't just him who provoked her to annoyance. "Just because you will shag anything that moves," she snapped, "doesn't mean that everybody is looking for a different bed partner every night." It was obvious she was beyond annoyed though, if she was descending into petty insults. Padma did what she termed 'academic discourse', she didn't descend into the personal.
Except with Terry.
"Not everything that moves," Terry pretended to ponder, "just everything without a y chromosome, and with enough intelligence to remember to take the potion beforehand." Considering the potions efficacy was nearly one hundred percent, it was fairly hard to get knocked up or catch a venereal disease in the wizarding world.
"Not much more than that though I'm sure," Padma remarked sarcastically. "After all you must enjoy finding somebody who can look up to you with wonder in their eyes."
"It beats finding somebody who chooses to look with blind hatred," his voice was quiet.
It took the strength out of Padma's vitriol. It hadn't just been friendly bickering with the two of them, it never was, especially not since school when they were without parental or professorial supervision. It was a complicated thing, Terry and Padma. They had been rather obviously attracted to each other for a long time, but never at the point or mindset to do anything about it. The only things they had in common beyond their attraction were their pureblood status, and their academic nature. It wasn't just the sexual promiscuity on Terry's part that held them apart, though it was probably a large part of it. In some ways at least, Padma was very traditional.
Still, what it came down to was instead of simply shagging or working it out between them, they bickered more often than not.
Michael cleared his throat, choosing to be the one who stopped awkwardness from descending. "Please you two, stop bickering so snidely, or somebody listening might think we left school as Slytherins."
Anthony was the one who snorted, taking up the familiar if not all that serious snide remarks. "Better than Hufflepuffs."
Padma managed to tear her attention away from Terry to comment with a wave of her hand, "No, I think Gryffindors are the scourge. They are action without thought. How is that in any way a good thing?"
It was a conversation they'd had time and time before, and would again, even now not being at Hogwarts anymore. Every house considered themselves superior, and even in a world that was more about equality in every way, that hadn't changed. Especially with the Ravenclaws.
"We sound like we're twelve," Lisa remarked.
"But with better income," Michael remarked, "and our own flats."
At least the other men snickered in response.