It was past lunchtime when Lizzie left Orion's place, feeling exhausted, tired, and happier than she had in months. Returning to the home she had shared with Skye after weeks was strange, but not even the prospect of facing her former housemate was enough to dampen Lizzie's mood.
The door wasn't locked when she entered, the ground floor even messier than she had expected. Stepping over Skye's discarded heels, heaps upon heaps of laundry and stray pieces of Quidditch gear, Lizzie made her way into the kitchen. Having tea with Orion was all fun and games, but her body had begun craving coffee with a force she couldn't ignore any longer.
Lizzie had turned on the coffee machine and taken a cup and the sugar bowl from the cabinet when heavy footsteps could be heard on the stairs. A moment later, Skye appeared in the kitchen door, wearing a worn-out sleeping shirt and a pair of boxers. In her hand, she held her wand. Once she recognised Lizzie, she put it away.
"What are you doing here?"
Lizzie's eyebrows rose fractionally. "I live here."
"No, you don't. Not anymore."
"I'm still paying rent, am I not?"
"Whatever, but for the record, the coffee you're making is mine," Skye muttered in response. "Good thing I didn't fire a hex straight down the stairs. Thought you were a burglar or something."
"Hoping I'd steal your laundry, weren't you?"
Talking to Skye like this felt strange; the two of them had barely spoken a word since their fight in Wimbourne, and none at all off the pitch. Skye didn't seem too concerned with the situation, however. She was poking her head inside the kitchen cabinets, on the hunt for something to eat.
"Quite the big deal last night, wasn't it?" came her muffled voice from inside a cupboard. "Say what you want about the Magpies, but they know how to throw a party."
Lizzie made a nondescript noise, stirring milk and four teaspoons of sugar into her coffee. She hadn't seen much of the Vernal Ball, but that wasn't something to rub under Skye's nose. With a triumphant noise, Skye emerged from her cabinet with a packet of Cheeri Owls in one and a small bottle of Wiggenweld Potion in the other. It was brewed after a recipe their friend Penny Haywood had modified at school and the best cure for hangovers Lizzie knew; Skye definitely looked like she needed it.
"Pass me one, will you?" she begged as Skye upended the bottle into her mouth.
"Sorry, last one."
"Why do you always get the last one?"
Skye shrugged and blew a ring of steam from her mouth before shaking some Cheeri Owls into a bowl and pouring herself the largest glass of orange juice Lizzie had ever seen. She suddenly paused and looked back at Lizzie with a frown.
"That ain't what you wore yesterday, right?"
"Don't think it's an appropriate outfit for a ball?" Lizzie said defensively, acutely aware of the colour rising to her cheeks. She knew her tone was snappy, but wasn't in the mood to discuss why she was wearing clothes that weren't hers. Coming to her own conclusions, Skye pointedly looked at Lizzie's left hand.
"Where's your engagement ring?"
Lizzie shoved her hand into the pocket of her borrowed trousers. "Why does everyone always want to know about this bloody ring? It's not a name tag. I'm allowed to leave the house without it."
The curious expression on Skye's face faded. "I was just asking."
"And I was just answering."
"Whatever. Forget it," Skye muttered, snatching her wand and the bottle of orange juice from the counter and marching from the room with her breakfast floating behind her. Lizzie stared after her, already feeling sorry by the time she heard the door to Skye's room slam shut. With a sigh, her eyes dropped to the trail of milk and cereal Skye had left on the floor, and she reached for a cleaning rug.
She had removed most of Skye's new mess and begun working her way through the old one when a clicking sound on the window caught her attention. The small owl sitting outside hooted as Lizzie let it in, gratefully nibbling on the treat it was offered in exchange for the letter tied to its leg.
Lizzie frowned when she read the name on the back. Why would Erika Rath send her a letter? They had seen each other the day before, and even so, they had never been more than friends by association. What did she want from her?
Now thoroughly intrigued, Lizzie cracked open the seal. What was inside the envelope was more of a note than an actual letter; in true Erika-fashion, she had come straight to the point.
We need to talk. It's important.
Meet me at the Three Broomsticks, seven o'clock.
Erika
P.S.: Don't tell Parkin.
Lizzie read the note again in wonder. What could be so important that Erika couldn't tell her in her letter and that they had to meet straight away? And why couldn't she tell Skye?
Seeing as she wouldn't find out unless she went and met her, Lizzie decided on a change of plans. She had only wanted to get changed and sort a few things before heading back to Orion's, but that would have to wait now. A smile formed on her lips. They weren't in a hurry. Once everything was settled, they would have all the time in the world.
Fetching a piece of parchment, ink, and a dishevelled quill from the kitchen drawers, Lizzie scribbled down her answer and a quick note to Orion before sending them off. When the owl had gone, she turned back to the mess in the kitchen with a sigh.
Now, all she had to do was wait.
***
The sun had set when Lizzie arrived at the Three Broomsticks, one of the two pubs located in Hogsmeade Village. Waving a greeting at Madam Rosmerta, the Three Broomsticks' landlady, she cast a searching look around for Erika.
She found her sitting at the back of the room at a small table by the roaring fireplace. She was reading through a stack of parchment, two pints of ale already sitting in front of her. As Lizzie approached, she looked up from her work, neatly folded the documents and put them into an envelope in the pocket of her jacket.
Lizzie was surprised to note that Erika was dressed in a smartly-looking suit, her pale blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail. She looked like a businesswoman and made Lizzie - herself wearing only ripped jeans, a jumper and worn-out boots - feel distinctly underdressed.
"Hi, Erika," Lizzie said as she sat across from her, "long time no see."
"If you consider twenty-four hours long."
"Your letter made me curious. If this is about Skye, though..."
"It's not."
"Oh," Lizzie said, slightly taken aback. "Then what can I help you with?"
"Nothing. But I can help you."
Now, Lizzie was thoroughly confused. "How would that be?"
"I thought about what you told me yesterday. At the ball," she added, mildly impatient at the blank look on Lizzie's face, "when we were talking about your future with the Wanderers."
It took Lizzie a moment to recall what Erika meant. With everything that had happened after, she had almost forgotten about speaking with her in the first place.
"Yes, I remember."
"Good. You were wondering whether Wigtown was the end of your road. I don't think it should be, so I spoke with my bosses."
Lizzie nearly choked on her beer. "You did what?"
"You're in high demand. I'm just a scout, but they know we went to school together. They gave me clearance to talk to you."
"About what?"
"Your transfer. You're a good player, brilliant when you focus. We want you, very much so." Erika leaned forward, a slight frown between her brows. "Frankly, we don't know how to improve our offer anymore. The Montrose Magpies are the most successful team in the history of the League, we have been dominating the ranking for years. What can Wigtown give you that we can't?"
It took Lizzie a moment to make sense of what Erika was saying.
"There must be a mistake."
"There isn't."
"There is," Lizzie insisted. "Montrose not knowing how to improve their offer can't be true."
A look of disappointment crossed Erika's face. "That warned me you might say that."
"Say what?"
Erika's eyes hardened. "Look, I'm here because I am the last resort. They thought you would at least listen to me. Seems like they were wrong. I'm disappointed in you, Jameson."
"I'm sorry?"
"I thought you loved Quidditch. Never took you for one to be only after the money."
Lizzie's mouth dropped open. "What?"
"You heard what Gibson said yesterday, you have a reputation for turning down all the high-profile clubs. It's become somewhat of a joke on the stands," Erika snorted. "No one knows what game you're playing at, but you should be careful. There'll come the day when you'll find yourself on the short end of your gambling."
"I'm not gambling!" Lizzie said vehemently. "I don't even know what you're talking about!"
"I'm talking about the dozens of offers you received since it's become public knowledge that you're on the market. We offered you a place on our roster four times alone. I've seen the terms. No player in their right mind would refuse them. You did. Your agent turned every single one of them down."
"My agent?" Lizzie had to swallow hard. "This must be a mistake."
Erika watched Lizzie closely. "You want to tell me you didn't know about this?"
"I had no idea. You have to believe me."
"Well," Erika said, the hard edge gone from her voice, "that's unfortunate for you, but it doesn't change things. You need a contract, and I'm here to offer you one. What do you say?"
Feeling like the rug had been swept from underneath her feet, Lizzie shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know anything anymore, to be honest. I need to think about this."
"You had half a season to think. That you wasted it by trusting the wrong people is tough, but my bosses won't care. They want an answer."
"If they want me so badly, they can wait a little longer," Lizzie said, more sharply than she had meant to. "There's clearly a lot of things that I don't know. I need to talk with my club first."
"The Wanderers can't offer you anything we can't."
"That's not it."
"What then?"
"You wouldn't understand," Lizzie shook her head. The Wanderers had given her credit of doubt when she thought she had squandered all her chances. She couldn't just drop them at a moment's notice. Leaving the club would mean leaving her home, Skye, and Orion, too. No, as tempting as the offer sounded, her life was in Wigtown.
When she remained silent, Erika pulled out the envelope Lizzie had seen earlier and pushed it across the table.
"What's that?"
"A contract," Erika said. "The last one Montrose is going to offer you."
Lizzie stared at the envelope, feeling hot and cold at the same time. "Erika, I -"
"Just take it. You don't have to sign it, but you should read it, at least." Her eyes softened, if only fractionally. "Don't be stupid, Jameson. This is your life. Think about yourself for a change."
Lizzie looked between Erika and the envelope. She felt overwhelmed by everything she had just learned. All this past year, she had trusted Matthew to help her. She had trusted him so much that, even after their relationship had begun to fall apart, she had never thought to question him. And all this time, there had been offers coming in from all across the League, and he had turned down all of them. Worse, he had let her believe that no one wanted her, that maybe it was time to leave and settle down with him for good.
And just like that, all of her indecisiveness turned into rage. She looked at the envelope with her name on it once more, then reached out and pocketed it.
"Thank you for the drink," she told Erika and rose to her feet. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go and see my agent."