Excuse me, sir, but your nose is in my business

Lily was finally out and about. Strictly speaking, no one knew she was out. She had been asked not to leave the house unaccompanied, but even before the incident, Lily Potter had never been one to follow the rules. At least she had dressed properly today. She had taken to wearing sweaters with horrible language and tights, changing only when Teddy practically forced her out of her clothes – eyes screwed shut and cheeks burning red of course. Today, because she was on her own terms, she felt that it could be nice to actually properly dress. Hogwarts had sent all her stuff back, or perhaps Teddy had picked it up for her, so she had all of her clothes. She was very concise in dressing, putting on a top that provided her freedom, pulling on black skinny jeans, and her favorite pair of shoes.

Hell, she even donned some jewelry.

The reason was simple. She needed her tonic. And some Wolfsbane. She stole from Albus – of course – and apparated herself to Diagon. It was a Wednesday, so she had no chance of running into anyone from her school. Which was nice, because she was horrifically dreading the day she had to explain to someone that she would not be graduating. The first day of her second-seventh year was going to be the worst of her life. Well, the second-seventh year was going to be dreadful too.

She stepped into Slugs and Jiggers, intent on getting it out of the way as quickly as possible. Anyone who was clever enough to put two and two together could figure out that she was buying ingredients for wolfsbane and the sort of tonic that would ease full moon pains. She chewed on her lip and hurried quickly to the front of the store. She leaned over the counter and quickly dictated her order. She drummed her fingers on the counter, impatient to get out before anyone noticed her.

As it turned out, Keiran’s father had been a brilliant potioneer. Truly. The man just wasn’t the most skilled at keeping all manner of items on hand. No, indeed, he just kept what he needed for his project of the month or week or whatever amount of time, and paid no heed to the fact that he could potentially run into the problem that Keiran now faced. He had a house full of werewolves that had little to no expectation of getting their hands on Wolfsbane potion when needed. The students were undoubtedly listed somewhere, and it was unlikely that they could get away with wandering about after going missing. Times were changing, laws could get worse if the Ministry wanted them to, and Keiran couldn’t do anything to stop them.

So he had made a plan with a few of the people working with him, where they would go to different apothecaries, different brewers, and claim that they were working on a project, or getting it in case anything happened, or whatever excuse they gave. Keiran’s was that his father had been a potioneer, and he wanted to try out an old idea the man had involving the potion. It wasn’t his very best plan, but it was going to have to work. It had to.

Stepping into the Diagon Alley shop, Keiran was at least glad to know that the owner would have known his father. Business with Slugs and Jiggers Apothecary was not unusual for the man when he was living. Surely the owner would have heard? If not, at least it would give Keiran’s story some weight.

Leaning over the counter to place an order, a girl who must have been somewhere in the Hogwarts age range requested the ingredients for the same potion Keiran was after. An eyebrow lifted without his willing it to, his eyes following the person behind the counter that started getting the bits together. The ex-professor was slightly amazed that no questions were asked. But then, he was basically going to ask the same thing himself, in the end, so he didn’t comment, or linger on the question for too long.

Into the back, the employee went, leaving before Keiran could drop his own order onto their list of items to snatch up and bring to the front to be purchased. Better for it, probably, that nothing would be mixed up. The real question, of course, was not whether or not the man would mix anything up. It was, rather, what the girl wanted with the ingredients for Wolfsbane. Upon closer inspection, the girl looked familiar, which Keiran supposed was lucky. Otherwise, how could he go about approaching someone who was - at the very least - nine years his junior?

“You’re a Gryffindor, aren’t you? Think I saw you around school a while back.” He offered vaguely, leaning against the counter a safe distance away.

Fate had never been particularly kind to the Potter family. It had not been especially forgiving to the Weasleys, either. So, naturally, as a spawn of both, Lily’s chances that fate would cut her a little slack were very slim. She should have known that disobeying orders this late in the game was sure to cause her trouble. Rebellion would have been better risked in the beginning, when her family had less hope for her. Now that she was not getting worse (not truly getting better, but at least not declining) she was sure to mess it all up.

Discovery meant a lot of things. It meant having to explain why she was not in school, which led to the topic of her imminent repeat year.  And if she did not die of embarrassment at that point, then she had to face a lot of questions surrounding her hidden condition that she would have to lie her way through. It was not just a point of public shame, anymore. If it were discovered that she was an unregistered werewolf, she was looking at Azkaban time. It would not just be those who knew her who knew the truth. There would be a trial. There would be gossip. The Prophet would run a story.

Potters Fall On Hard Times Again : Will They Ever Be Out of the Headlines?

It seemed not.

A voice reached her, and she knew she was the one being addressed. She stared at the counter with determination, as though refusing to look at the source of the voice would somehow make it disappear. She knew, all too well, that this would definitely not be the case. For things to work out so conveniently would mean that she had a good working relationship with Fate. And, clearly, this was the farthest thing from the truth.

She turned, expecting a recent graduate or something of that sort who might recognize her back when she might have worn a Gryffindor tie. However, she found herself face to face with one of her professors. She stared at him. If he remembered her, perhaps he remembered her disappearance. Perhaps he knew of the plans for next year. Or maybe, hopefully, he was one of those absent-minded professor types that would assume she had just blended in with the crowd.

“Um…” she said, staring at him for a very long time, a small flurry of panic within her, surprised that she was feeling anything at all. “Yes.” She finally decided upon the syllable she would be giving, and turned back to the counter. The clerk had just arrived and set a small bag on the counter. “Is this everything?” she said, a tad impatiently.

“Should be. ‘Cept I have to check the back stores for your Aconi-“

“Thank you, please do that,” Lily said, cutting him off. He retreated back into the back room, and she quickly looked through the small bag, before looking back up, torn. “You forgot my tonic!”

“Aye!” came the faint response. At least a tonic wasn’t exactly werewolf-specific. Lily gnawed on her lower lip.