Thinking of You (Post-Battle of Hogwarts Fan Fiction) [ON HOLD]

Comparisons are easily done

His hand jolted back as he peered at the scar.

“Neat,” he whispered, examining it curiously. “I’ve never seen one heart-shaped before.”

“It’s a burn,” Rowena murmured quietly, crossing her arms to hide it. “But it never healed right.”

“I once stuck my foot into the Slytherin Common Room fire for a bet. Ended up staying in the Hospital Wing for a week. Madame Pomfrey did her best, I have to hand it to her, but I’ve still got a massive scar on my left foot. Earned a Galleon though for my sheer stupidity.”

“Felix! Where are you going with that girl?” The shop keeper marched over with an angry look etched all over his face. He was a round man with a protruding belly that stretched his pale green robes to the point of explosion. His eyes were barely visible behind his chubby face but he seemed friendly enough. “If you think I’m paying you to take every pretty girl into the back room for some hanky-panky then you have another thing coming!”

“Sorry, Uncle,” Felix had the grace to blush but even his cheeks could not outshine Rowena’s. “I was taking her out for a test drive.”

“Is that what you young folk call it these days?!?” Felix’s uncle’s face turned a pure shade of violet. “Back when I was your age, sonny, we treated the lady folk with a little something called R-E-S-P-E-C-T!”

“No, you old fool! She wants a Valkyrie!”

“A Valkyrie? Well why didn’t you say?” He clipped his nephew around the head although he had to stretch slightly to do so. “And that’s for calling me a fool. We both know I still have more than a few years left in me!” He turned back to face Rowena. “Apologies, miss. My dear nephew has only been at work for a week and yet he acts as if he runs the bloody place. My name’s Marcus Aviate and that beansprout there is Felix Tempest.”

“I’m Rowena. Rowena Stafford.”

“Stafford, hey? No chance you’re related to Richard Stafford? I know he was Muggle-born but I always wondered whether he had any kids.”

“Yeah, he’s my dad.”

“No wonder you’re on the Quidditch team! I swear, pure-blood or not, no wizard could beat your dad when he was in the air. Of course, all the glory goes to the Seeker and all the girls wet themselves over the Chasers but, come on; a true male position has to be the Beater! He gave glory to the Hufflepuff team when there was none. His hits were deadly and he certainly kept old Pomfrey busy! He had the build though for it.” Felix rolled his eyes behind his uncle’s back as Marcus wittered on about some game or another.

“I worked at Hogwarts for a few years as the flying instructor before the old arthritis kicked in and broomsticks weren’t as stable as they used to be…” Behind his shoulder, Felix took exaggerated swigs from an imaginary bottle whilst Rowena tried to keep a straight face. “But I remember little Richard Stafford. I remember your mother too. Katritta Huntington. Always had her head stuck some book or whatever! She hated flying with a passion. Probably because a book couldn’t teach her how to do it!”

“Uncle Marcus, there’s a customer enquiring about the cost of buying a family friendly broomstick. I’ll sort Rowena out with a short test drive.” Marcus nodded his head at Rowena respectfully before wobbling over to talk to a little witch weighed down with bawling twins. Felix gave her a quick smile before gesturing to the door behind the counter.

The outside area was not much larger than Rowena’s own bedroom, she was disappointed to realise. A mountain of empty, wooden boxes were stacked neatly up against the brick wall that separated the area from their neighbour’s. The terrain had long since been turned into patio although the odd green weed stuck out through the odd crack.