Lazy Weekends

Jude has lucked out finding the apartment he had found. A three story house divided into two floors, with a top attic space the landlady used as her own quarters, it was well kept and big. What Jude loved most about it, however, was that the first floor renter had moved out two months ago and his landlady, the poor soul, had not noticed that Jude had slowly but surely claimed both floors for his own. The mess was reclaimed and turned into something classy and elegant, much better suited for Jude's tastes.

Poor Widow Charleston seemed to have forgotten that his rental agreement was for one flat only, otherwise she would not have begun to serve his breakfast in the first floor. Still, Jude was not going to be the one to point out the particulars in their contract, so he continued on, smug with his small victory over the eighty year old woman.

On this particular morning, she delivered him his breakfast, post, and newspaper, before withdrawing to her own apartment to whatever it was that she did all say long. On the fridge was posted a few of the things she had hoped he would look at and fix that day. It was watering day in the garden and Jude would have complained, had he not been so fond of the tasteful front display the house had. Finishing his breakfast, he changed into clothes better suited for the outside - a pair of slacks and a plain tee shirt that had cost much more than most were willing to spend on a plain shirt - and made his way outside.

The sky had given the world a rest and, though it was cold out, the sun shone. The hairs on his arm bristled in indignation to the cold, but made his way around the side of the house, finding the water spigot and turning it on. Having wrestled the green hose from it's coiled position around one of Ms Charleston's rose bushes, he was finally prepared enough to go about watering the front lawn and all of its ornaments there. Neighbors walked by, on their way to work or to shop, and they all enthusiastically greeted him, for important people were always worth greeting. He tipped his head to each, forcing a smile where he found it necessary, and nearly always rolling his eyes after they were far away enough to be ignorant to the movement.

The cooperation of several rather influential and power-hungry members of the Ministry would make or break the endeavour to ensure that the potion would be testable and, first and foremost, conceivable. Again, this process had been left to the young blonde that appeared to be liaising with all those that were involved where her father could not find the strength or will to. She was a diplomat by her very nature but she would have lied if she had claimed that she was not out of her depth in approaching these people and requesting the partnership that her father demanded of them. It often felt rude and presumptive to her ears but she communicated with these people in such a way that none appeared put off. They were all enthusiastic – all for different reasons.

That particular morning had demanded Cerelia to be up and out of the estate by no later than six fifteen. She had been summoned to Knockturn Alley where, in a small restaurant just down the cobble street from Satan’s, she and a handful of Goblins from Gringotts quietly discussed over warm meat, eggs and other jentacular foods. The decision was made to siphon money out of a handful of bank vaults in the oldest parts of the bank. The money would be bagged and moved to a new vault, number 4005, and there it would lay in wait until such times as it would be needed.

Now, these were not honest Goblins though I am sure you would have worked that out already, but they did warn Cerelia of the dangers of such things. She remained placid, however, insistent that the initial stages should begin as soon as the bank vault is opened; in a fake name of course.

She left the ever so concerned Goblins to their breakfasts just after half past seven and from there, made her way to the Ministry where she put in several inquiries as to the location of several exotic potions ingredients, citing that it was for a school project. The information was supplied, made easy by the fact that it was a young interim manager at the helm, and Cerelia left, moving to an Apparation point where she, after applying to her skin a light perfume that proved to mask and confuse the tracing spells on her person, Apparated away to an alleyway between a baker’s and a butcher’s shop not too far from her second port of call for the day.

Leaving the alleyway, Cerelia walked out into the warm morning sunshine. She smiled to herself and strode calmly down the street, greeting the people that walked past with dogs or newspapers and bottles of milk. Soon enough though, she found the street that kept the house of the person she was determined to draw to their side of the matter. Her father had been specific about this one. He held enough power to be useful but not enough to be suspected. Elijah Krum, the Deputy Minister of Magic, provided the latter problem. This man, Jude Shaw, was supposedly going to prove very useful to them and Cerelia had been told not to return home unless he was committed to their cause.

Cerelia paused a few meters away from the house, reluctant to go near due to the slightly haphazard way that the plants outside were being watered.

“Excuse me,” she moved a little closer and brought her hands together, her spare curling around her clutch bag with the other. “I am looking for Jude Shaw. Is he home?”

((SCAVENGER HUNT : There is an inside joke in this post! I hope you catch it)

Jude only ever had two visitors, because he thought that allowing his address to become public knowledge was dangerous. Jude had what some called a disregard for the public opinion, and this often made the said public less than pleased with the legislature and policy he usually allowed himself to get involved in. The first man Jude had ever interned for, the former Head of Magical Law Enforcement, a man by the name of Rick Stonewall, had taught Jude firsthand what happened when you displeased the public, and didn't keep your home address private. Jude had always been in charge of cleaning up the messes that disgruntled wizards left on, over, and around Stonewall's home.

Thus far, Jude had managed to ensure that only his mother knew his address - and, well, Ferdinand Gullstrone, who had begun as Jude's overenthusiastic intern three years ago, and had turned into somewhat of a lackey. Ferdinand was currently Jude's personal assistant and biggest fan, so Jude doubted he could have prevented Ferdinand from finding ways of visiting, just short of killing the small man.

That's why, when he heard a voice as he bowed his head to splatter Ms Charleston's hedges with water, he cursed his assistant. How many times had he told Ferdinand that he was to forward any messages people may have to his house, but never actually disclose his address. The man would never learn, Jude was sure, but he supposed this was part of the 'sacrifice' civil servants - which, incidentally, typically lived more like kings than servants - such as himself would have to put up with.

On looking up, however, the edge of Jude's irritation seemed to lessen. If Ferdinand had to surrender his address to someone, the sort of person Jude would be least upset with was one such as the person before him - a young, attractive girl. Jude looked up, slowly bit his lip thoughtfully as his gaze brushed against her, before he turned his attention back to the hose, moving it over to a small dead patch of grass that had somehow been overlooked. To the girl, he said, "He's home. He's out watering the front garden."

He turned and walked back to the side of the house, turning off the spigot and stopping the flow of water. He began coiling the hose and turned so he could regard the girl for a moment. She didn't look quite old enough to be of age - shame. But, if Jude had learned anything in his career in government it was this - any small flaw in a plan could be overlooked with the wonderful excuse of administrative error.

Finally coiled, the hose dropped to the lawn as Jude approached the gate, setting both hands and leaning on it so he could regard the girl. "I'm Jude B. R. Shaw-" she was fortunate not get the full name, "What can I help you with?"

It had not been quite as hard as Cerelia had first thought to find Jude’s address. The trip to the Ministry had been brief enough and a mention of his name with a smile soon saw it written out on an, admittedly, scraggly bit of parchment. She did not expect such a man, a man of government, to be out watering his own flowers, however. Surely he could have hired someone to do it for him. It was rather unseemly.

Cerelia did not let that afflict her mind, however, and focused on the job at hand that was demanded of her. She could not help but notice the way he looked at her though and she shifted a little where she stood, clearing her throat uncomfortably before bringing her eyes back to see him taking the hose away.

She pursed her lips a little and stepped around the water that had pooled on the path, making her way closer to the gate. Once he had put the hose away, Jude did the same and Cerelia took a step back, maintaining a professional distance between them. She smiled when he introduced herself and held out a gloved hand to him for him to shake or kiss, whatever struck his fancy at that moment.

“Cerelia Avery, Jude B. R. Shaw.” She responded with a smirk. She retracted her hand and brought her bag up, opening it and reaching in for a piece of parchment rolled and sealed with her family’s coat of arms. “I have a business proposition for you. If you would be so kind as to let me in, I could explain what I have in mind.”

She retreated a few steps as he approached her at the gate and Jude's lips flickered with a smile. He felt very assured about himself when he seemed to be formidable to others. He did not think the movement was out of repulsion - he had seen himself in the mirror today, so he knew that was an impossibility - so that left his reputation and high position that must have seemed very intimidating to a young woman. His smile became a little more relaxed now, as though to say 'there, there, now, I'm just a man, no need to fear.'

She held out a hand and he took it; though he typically shook hands with people while he was in a casual setting, he decided to brush his lips against her elegantly gloved hand, deciding that someone who had approached him in all the trappings of a lady must certainly be treated like one, even if he normally would have simply taken her hand. Jude typically did not like to make exceptions, excepting himself of course, but this time... he would make an exception and make an exception.

She introduced himself and he allowed the name to sink into his mind. It rolled well, had a nice ring, so he doubted he would have trouble remembering it, though he may pretend to. She withdraw and conjured up some sort of legal looking document. His interest was officially piqued. A business proposition? He was amused, to say the least, that something that he assumed would be a serious matter was being dealt in the hands of a young girl. Jude was not ignorant to the changing social order, but he was also aware of the fact that older men were in charge of the Ministry, not their daughters.

This, he would have fun with.

He smiled again. "Sure! Come, come." He opened the gate for her, holding it open so she could come into the yard. He led the way up to the house and, once again, held open the door for her. Ms Charleston, who must have been watching from her attic window, was bustling downstairs. "Ms Charleston! Could I impose upon you the task of bringing my guest and myself some refreshments in the sitting room?" She looked between the two of them , before responding, "Of course dearie. It'll be up soon."

He turned back to Cerelia and motioned, saying, "This way." He led the way to a snug, but dignified sitting room. Two comfortable chairs sat opposite each other at a small tea table and this is where he approached, holding out a chair for her, and then slipping into his own. "She'll only be a moment with the refreshments. Ms Charleston is a bit hard of hearing, however, so if you would like to begin your proposition, you need not worry; she will not be snooping."

As children, Pureblood girls have drilled into them certain expectations of greeting and those who were impractical became rather flustered when they weren’t met with the principles that they had been told was the norm. Those incapable of moving with the times were not dutiful hostesses and only the best understood that introductions came in many different ways. Yet there was always a certain pleasure in being greeted in the way Jude did Cerelia.

She was infinitely glad he had been brought up correctly for his glance had been enough. She was not sure what she would have done had he shook her hand. Nothing, most likely, but she would not have been pleased. No, there was something special about having one’s hand kissed; the solemn respect was divine.

The blonde smiled slightly when he opened the gate and slipped through with easy grace onto the path. She then followed him up the path and entered the house, pleased to find again that his manners had been proven on both counts.

Cerelia looked up at the sound of the stairs creaking and upon seeing the elderly woman the blonde flashed a genuine smile. The woman scuttled away as quickly as she had appeared and Cerelia felt a lot happier at the promise of refreshments. Yet the question that was afflicting her now made her think briefly: who was this man who could afford a house keeper but not a gardener? Jude either had a penchant for weeds or he really did not know how to manage his household properly.

Upon entering the sitting room, Cerelia found she was vaguely impressed. Smiling idly to herself, she nodded in thanks to Jude before lowering herself into the chair. She put her bag down on the seat beside herself and removed her gloves, placing them on the arm of the chair once they were off. She lifted the parchment out of her lap and held it out for him to take before straightening up and placing her hands in her lap.

“The Ministry of Magic holds many secrets pertaining to all sorts of things – common knowledge. What a select few seek is information pertaining to potion ingredients said to contain certain properties that enhance certain aspects of Wizardry. There is also an artefact, a map to be precise, in the Department of Mysteries that I personally wish to see. It is the former property of one Salazar Slytherin, with whom we are all familiar. It is said to lead to certain other artefacts that would prove incredibly useful to our cause. What I have been tasked with now, is to see if one particular undersecretary to the Ministry is interested in what would be, certainly, glory and untold power.”

She plunged right into it, for which he was glad. Though skilled in the art of small talk and idle conversation, as any politician had to be, he was not fond of it in the least. If business was to be had, he wanted to get right at it. His mind and spirit craved the activity of clever schemes, careful plans, and diplomatic reasonings. To have it so tantalizingly mentioned and then forgotten in a stream of trivial niceties would have been torture, and would have marred the good image this Cerelia Avery had already presented of herself. And that would have been a real shame.

She spoke well, much better than most girls of her age - he was placing her at seventh year, maybe sixth at the earliest, and a recent graduate at the oldest. She held herself, however, as though she had been out of Hogwarts and had been properly groomed in a proper pureblood home. Whoever was molding her, they were certainly molding her to be a proper, pureblood wife. She would make a good mistress of any pureblood estate, with that confidence and that face.

He drew his thoughts from her manner of speaking and onto the actual matter of what she was speaking in regards to. She spoke with knowledge - surely, she was not the mastermind of this ploy, whatever it may be, but she was certainly informed in the topic, otherwise she would not be speaking with such assuredness in such complicated matters. This girl had been entrusted with business - not exactly traditional, but it was not a turn off.

Not at all.

And she knew how to speak to him. Jude loved beautiful women, and he would take a beautiful woman who offered him glory and untold power any day. He smiled, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling with amusement on his face. "Someone has told you how to talk to me. Very few phrases would have invested me so quickly into whatever plan you are leading me to than that particular one you just stated."

Just then, Ms Charleston bustled in, carrying a tea tray with their tea and some raspberry scones - a specialty of hers. "Ms Charleston, you angel, thank you." She blushed and mumbled something incoherent and placed the tray before them. She poured them each a drink and said, "Take a scone! Really, please do!" Jude felt an irritable scrabble in his breast but he took one, biting into it. She smiled and bustled away.

Setting the scone on the small plate before him, Jude reached forward for his cup of tea, taking a small drink. He lowered the cup but held it in the air before him. "So. You were at glory and untold power. My interest is piqued. Please continue."

Cerelia Avery had always been very direct. She had none of the patience required to be vague and deceptive about certain things though it was well within her power to conduct herself as such. She liked situations to be simple and agreements yes or no answers.

Her father enjoyed the verbal chase. He enjoyed languishing as the person opposing him tried and failed to get to the crux of the matter. Cerelia did not find that nearly as amusing and so preferred a straightforward transaction.

Jude appeared to be grateful for it also and Cerelia sat up a little straighter, a small smiling appearing at the pout of her cupid’s bow.

Just like the others before him, Jude too had looked at Cerelia with curiosity. It was not considered proper to get a woman involved with matters of politics and illegalities. Cerelia appeared to be thriving on it, however, and the way in which she carried herself had seen compliments pour into the waiting ears of her father.

The blonde laughed briefly before steadying her gaze on Jude. “I know how to get what I want.”

Breaking the eye contact, Cerelia looked up to see the elderly lady come through the door. The girl smiled gratefully at the woman and waited for the lady to go before reverting her gaze back to Jude.

“Potionatus Poténtiæ; designed to make the magic of Purebloods stronger and that of Muggle-Borns’ weaker. It is detailed in the parchment. We will, however, require your cooperation, Mr Underecretary.”

“I know how to get what I want.” Perhaps this was why she seemed to utterly charming to him, this shared ability. It was this very quality that had placed Jude where he was today. He was exactly where he had hoped to be by this time. So far, he was on track, and it was to the credit of his uncanny ability to find the methods and paths that would deliver him to the place he desired to find himself in.

And this girl, at her young age, was on her own way. He thought, if she continued to defy tradition and perhaps found her own independence, she would be someone who's career was worth watching, as he considered his had been and still was. She could probably change their world, a bit. Though, he had learned, that was not as hard as everyone liked to assume it was.

He lifted his cup of tea to his lips and regarded her over the cup as she continued on. Potionatus Poténtiæ? He had remembered hearing whispers and rumors - you don't buy out half of the Department of Mysteries and not find yourself without access to some of their heavily guarded secrets, after all. He would have never guessed the Averys to be so interested, invested, and involved, however, in such a cause. It gave him a little hope, though. His own abhorrence for the filth of muggles and their spawn had, for so long, gone unsupported.

And now he had an opportunity to act. Ah, how he loved to put plans into motion. It was a joy of his, really. Setting down his cup, his eyes rested heavily on the face of the girl as he tried to reign in his own anticipation and tried to wrestle with the realism of the situation. Whatever she suggested could put his position in some level of danger or upset. But he was thoroughly assured in his, as she had put it earlier, knowledge of getting what he wanted.

He smiled genially. "How may I be of assistance?"

In many ways, Cerelia was far from the Pureblood girl that was ideal for being married off and promising for the production of children. Cerelia had grown up in a man’s world where she had learnt that the only way to survive was to be strong but accept that there were those better than she. She possessed an ego - didn’t they all? – but it didn’t hinder her ability to perform in the interests of her family and their associates and she had proved to be quite the diplomat during her time at Durmstrang; a fact which had attracted her father to the idea of bringing her home in the first place.

The blonde smirked a little, glad to find that Jude was biting at the line she’d drawn for him. She crossed one leg over the other and placed her hands in her lap. She watched the Ministry man carefully, well aware how slippery they had a habit of being, but proceeded regardless.

“Whispers,” she began, sitting forward to pour herself a cup of tea from the teapot. “Have proved true in cases – depending on the whisper.” Cerelia looked up under her eyelashes at Jude and smiled softly as she added a cube of sugar. “You can help, indeed, by gaining us entry to the Department of Mysteries as well as covering our tracks and, naturally, your own. The Pureblood social season opens in a few weeks’ time."

"I believe that would be the best time to go – during the event. Everyone will be busy in the ballroom and only the guards would prove problematic – briefly. Of course you would be rewarded handsomely in the end with your own share of the potion and some gold to sweeten the deal further. What do you say? Or do you need more convincing?”