AUGUST 7, 1998
BILLIE
"DAD, I'M HOME!" Billie yelled into the house. She kicked off her shoes, balancing several paper boxes, and threw her purse down.
The father-daughter duo lived in a small cottage in Henley-On-Thames. It had cream colored walls, yellow lights, and wallpaper in every room. Right now, the whole place smelled of fish and chips.
"Ah, finally!" Dad, or Maxwell Holt, was a short man with a round middle. Billie's Dad was in his late fifties, yet carried himself with the energy of someone twenty years younger. "How did the pies do?"
"Really good, Dad, really really good," Billie said, setting the boxes down. "Harry Potter came in and bought two of them!"
"Harry Potter?" Dad gasped, clutching at his stomach in surprise. "The little boy who got rid of You-Know-Who in May?"
"That very one," Billie chuckled. "And he isn't a little boy, he's a year older than me,"
"Oh, pish posh, dear! Well, did he like it?" Dad said, guiding Billie into the kitchen and seating her down.
The table had four chairs, but they only set the plates and bowls down for two. Mum's and Batty's seats would remain empty forever.
"I'm...not sure. He got them in a takeaway box. Though he hadn't tried them before, and bought two by just looking at them," she said, and accepted the cup of steaming tea.
"Now, isn't that nice of him," Dad said, practically bubbling in his skin with excitement as he stirred the fish around in the pan.
Billie took another look around. There was a thin layer of dust around some of the upper decorative shelves, and judging by the faint spiderweb in the corner of the ceiling, there was dust in other places, too. Dad wasn't the youngest parent, and he had never been too good at cleaning. Billie's Mum, a whiz at cleaning charms, had always maintained the house. And now that she was gone, and Billie was so busy with the ice cream shop and her N.E.W.T year...
Billie desperately hoped that once September 1 passed, her Dad would be able to hold the house and himself together until Christmas.
"Mason's coming to dinner, is that alright?" Billie asked to distract herself.
"Of course, dear. You know he's always welcome," Dad replied automatically, before beginning to wring his hands together. "But I do wish you had told me sooner or sent your ghost-kneazle messenger before, I would have fried three of the fishes instead of two,"
"He'll be fine, Dad," Billie smiled. "We'll all be,"
"Oh, all right," Dad sighed, and began plating the food.
Maxwell Holt had met Cassana Fortescue on a train. He was going to Kent for his new restaurant opening and she was supposed to be on a train to London accompanying and guarding the Muggle Prime Minister, but she had gotten confused in the train station and hopped on the wrong platform.
They had sat next to each other and talked the entire two-hour ride. The next day, after being berated about not guarding the Prime Minister at her job, Billie's mum had walked into a Muggle store and purchased a telephone, a boomerang-shaped communications device that allowed her to stay in contact with her Dad, who had given her his little telephone number a piece of paper. That piece of paper had been framed, at her Mum's love for the dramatics. It hung in their family room, next to a porcelain vase that Batty broke a hole in when she was a toddler.
"Hello, Holts!" Mason strolled in with a crack, a brilliant white smile on his face. He clapped Dad on the back and ruffled Billie's hair. She swatted at his curls in retaliation.
"Mason, m'boy!" Dad said, grinning. "Sit, sit, supper's on the table just for you,"
"And not for me?" Billie's jaw dropped sarcastically.
"Nope," Mason said, side-eyeing her with a saucy smirk. "Just me and your old man,"
"Who're you calling old, boy?" Dad said, with a warm smile and a raised eyebrow.
The warm chatter continued throughout dinner, as Billie gorged herself on chips and they watched Muggle news. Apparently, there were over two hundred Muggles dead that day after bombings in African cities targeting Americans.
"Bloody hell, what are these Muggle Americans up to these days?" Mason said incredulously, chewing through a mouthful of pickled onions. "They're like rats running around, trying to kill each other,"
"God knows what they're up to," Dad sighed, taking a swig of the bottled beer that Billie brought back unopened on her birthday last week.
"Anyways- the strawberry and peanut butter flavor's doing well lately," Mason changed the subject. "Billie- you've been selling out two days in a row, could I come in early tomorrow and make some more?"
"Oh. I didn't notice it was that popular," Billie said, surprised. "You can come in anytime. But you don't have to make any, I don't want to force you to put extra work in something you're not getting paid for,"
"No- no, I want to make more ice cream," Mason assured her. "I like working in the shop,"
"Well, that makes one of us," Billie sighed, reaching into her pocket and handing the keys to Mason.
The keys didn't unlock the door specifically, but their presence deactivated the Locking Charm that was placed over the shop.
"I've got to go to Ethiopia for the week of the 20th," Mason said. "My auntie Zema's getting married. She almost eloped over the weekend to get out of the whole big African wedding affairs, but she got caught. So now my grandma has to get the whole party together within two weeks, she's saying how every minute of stress is taking a year off her lifespan."
Billie snorted. "Well, tell her congrats from me and Da,"
"Yeah, I will. My white friends from England wish you well, auntie!" he mimicked. "Anyways, do you want to do our school shopping before or after?"
Billie frowned. "How about before? So we can get it over with?"
"Sounds good,"
"Reminds me," Dad pointed his fork at Billie. "You need to start hiring employees for the shop,"
"Yeah, I know," Billie sighed. She needed to find two people that were willing to run the shop for the entirety of the school year- she would draw up pamphlets tomorrow.
The atmosphere at the dinner dimmed ever so slightly, but was soon brightened as the three people continued eating.
"I have the pots running Black Currant," Mason said, coming out of the back door.
"Thanks. I really appreciate you helping me this summer, you know," Billie said gratefully. It was true. Billie disliked working at the shop already, she hated to imagine how miserable she'd be without Mason.
"You know I genuinely enjoy working here, right?" Mason rolled his eyes. "Honestly. Now stop thanking me,"
Billie laughed and turned back to cleaning her ice cream scoopers. The bell tinkled, and Harry Potter, the man of the hour, walked back in.
He looked like he'd shaved, the obvious stubble from yesterday now gone. He was wearing a checkered shirt under his robes and a purple coat with the Ministry logo on it.
"Hiya, Harry," Billie smiled. "Chocolate and raspberry?"
Having Harry Potter as a customer was probably the one part of her job that wasn't dreadfully boring.
"Oh, not today, I'll just be taking some banoffee pie," he said, indicating at the glass display. Billie waved her wand and two slices floated out and began packing themselves.
"My Dad went bonkers when I told him you bought his pie, y'know," Billie said, laughing.
"Well, it was delicious," Harry grinned, scratching his boyishly short black hair.
"Thanks, I'll tell him that," Billie gave a small smile. "Him and my sister, Batty, were gonna put it in the store way earlier, but then Batty was-"
Billie cut her own ramble off with the feeling of lead in her throat. She cleared it, swallowing. "-nevermind." She didn't know why she was confiding so much of herself in an almost stranger.
"...Well, I'm glad your sister's work is here now," Harry said, gently, though a little confusedly.
"I- thanks," Billie replied, handing him the boxes.
Harry began taking ten Sickles from his pouch, before he was stopped by Billie's purple quill on the back of his hand. "It's on the house," she said, before she could stop herself.
"Oh...why?" Harry furrowed his brows.
"Uhm-" Billie's mind scrambled to find a result. "A gift. For, y'know, saving the world,"
She patted his hand with the quill again, and leaned back, watching him leave the store with the same tinkle of a bell.
Mason chuckled behind her.
"What?"
"Nothing. Nothing, just some things being stirred," he said deviously, then innocently wandered over to check on the coconut ice cream mixture.