“Asha?” Altheda called from the bottom of the stairwell. “Are you up there?”
“Do you need something?” Asha peered around the corner, a pair of Queerditch goggles dangling from her left hand. Asha was a striking beauty - her long ebony hair that often hung around her thin face was now pulled back in a loose horsetail, exposing her sharp grey eyes, a thin sliver of a nose, and unpainted lips for all to see. Her body, once emaciated and pasty from a horrible malady, was now muscled and tanned, though thin, from hours spent on the Queerditch pitch. Her robes were well made and a deep blue, created from the money she had made as an assistant and business partner to Altheda. They were made for her favourite sport, and were mussed and slightly kilted up in her hurry, to reveal breeches and leather shoes that came halfway to her knees.
“Yes, I do.” She looked Asha up and down, taking in her disorderly robes and the assorted pieces of Queerditch gear, while she absentmindedly pulled at her lips with her teeth.
“Before you head off to the pitch, could you bring me some phials from my private workroom, if you please? They’re on the main table, and are marked with runes on the seals,”she explained as she pushed a prematurely silver lock of hair from her face. Her lengthy hair was braided down her back, with loose strands pulling from the weave haphazardly. Her robes were stained with various liquids and potions. Her green eyes shone out from her small, intense face. Standing next to each other, Asha towered over her friend by several inches. Altheda’s eyes were framed by slight wrinkles, the legacy of years of worries in stressful times. Although they were of a similar age, Altheda looked ten years Asha’s senior.
With a cheery grin, Asha replied, “Not a problem at all, my dear friend.” She ducked back into the upstairs rooms, leaving behind a glove on the floor. Altheda watched after her as the swishing hem of Asha’s robes disappeared behind the corner, a rueful grin playing at her lips.
Altheda thought of the person her friend had once been. She had changed so much from who she’d been before, the reclusive and ill girl who had come to the Fountain of Fair Fortune as a last resort to cure a horrible malady. But, Altheda thought smugly, I was able to help her as no other had. With her help, Asha had turned into outgoing and confident woman who controlled her own life.
Though she didn’t think of it, Asha was not the only one who had profited from the Fountain. She was now a savvy business woman with a future, and Amata, their other friend, was now married and happy with her love, the former Sir Luckless. Now he was acclaimed throughout the land as a hero.
Altheda shook her head at her foolish wasting of time and returned to her shop.
The Fair Fortune Apothecary had sprung from her success as a potioneer. Where she had started by prescribing remedies in her early days in the trade, only a year before, now stood a well-known establishment in the streets of a large city. The store was filled with herbs and magical items used in potion-making, all scattered throughout the open shop. Through glass panes shone bright sunlight, making the assorted candles placed in clusters on the shelves and the candelabra unnecessary. Several people garbed in wizarding robes strolled through the shop, peering into bubbling cauldrons filled with common medicinal potions, which imbued the air with a thin film of vividly coloured steam. Thick, leather-bound books filled a back shelf, containing a wealth of knowledge. Upon a broad counter-top in front of it, account books and Altheda’s notes were piled neatly, with a box for money sitting unobtrusively to one side. Small jars with ingredients lined a section of the counter, with barrels containing stirring rods and other important implements lining the floor in front. Cauldrons were stacked high in a corner, with scales on a nearby shelf. Locked doors could be seen on the back wall. They could be opened to workrooms or personal quarters for any student or master coming through.
Altheda took pride in her work. She aimed to be successful in every aspect in her life, and her shop certainly was. She had hit a roadblock in her life when she was robbed by an enemy of her wand, and therefore her ability to preform magic. She liked to think that she’d recovered and improved her condition. As she turned her back on the room, a wry grin curled her mouth. That sorcerer could no longer do any such thing.
Scurrying feet and the clank of glass on glass could be heard from the open stairwell door. Altheda pulled out her newly made wand of oak and phoenix feather and readied to use it to keep her possessions intact and before Asha spilled them over the floor. Asha tumbled down the stairs, her clothes only a little neater. Altheda’s worries proved unfounded, as Asha had a firm grip on the two wax sealed phials in her hand with others jangling in her pockets, and a broomstick tucked under her arm.
Altheda lowered her wand as Asha held out the contents of her hand. “Those are the right ones, I think. So, what are those for, anyway?”
Altheda took her possessions that were offered and turned back into the shop. Asha followed her as she explained. “These two-” she tapped the tops of the vials as she held them up, one a nasty green-orange colour and the other shimmering a delicate light blue “-are for Amata. She’s said that her morning sickness is making it hard for her to keep anything solid down. The ones you have - you can set them on the counter, now - are experiments. I’m trying to create something that can make healthier hair.”
Asha raised an eyebrow as she emptied her robe’s pockets.
Answering the unasked question, Altheda stated, “I’m getting a good deal from Catherine Cooper. She’ll sell it in her shop and give me a percentage of the profits, and I’ll be credited on the labels.” She started taking out boxes and cartons from behind the counter where she now stood, and eyed the cauldrons, trying to decide which to use. “Anyway, my wart removal concoctions weren’t working very well at all, as you might recall. Poor Octavius’ warts swelled to triple the size they were. I had to reverse it and give him some of my good axhorn powder to keep him from telling everyone.”
Asha shrugged. “I didn’t say a thing about the hair potion.”
Her friend rolled her eyes. “But you would have.”
“No doubt about that,” Asha conceded cheerily with a lazy grin. “You know me too well. Are you coming to the match? We’re playing Cowlstown.”
Altheda looked up to the taller person, grimacing. “You must know that I would, but I’ve got to tend the shop.” She gestured at the dozen or so people wandering through the open store. Seeing Asha’s quickly hidden look of disappointment, she quickly amended her words. “But I’ll come over if I can close down the shop in time.” She looked out the window, and gestured for Asha to do the same.
Looking at the angle of the sun, she jumped and cursed. “Oh, Merlin, it’s nearly noon!
Altheda came out from behind the counter and bade her good friend farewell as she watched the shifty-eyed youth that was eyeing her wolfsbane. But as Asha walked across the room, neither saw the small figure stumbling in the shadows. The person, known as Eros to the Greek and Cupid to more commonly, was scantily clad, with his bow in one hand and a butterbeer in the other. He took a big swig of his beverage and grinned drunkenly at the couple he had been following, and pulled out two arrows, setting his butterbeer down with a rueful look. But butterbeer was far more toxic to the small man than to the humans, and his vision was doubled and wavering. He pulled back the bow, but as he loosed, Asha crossed in front of the man, and Altheda was assisting the lad’s girl. One silver arrow went directly to Asha and sunk deep into her skin, pulsing once and then disappearing. The second sang though the air to hit Altheda directly in the heart. She seemed not to notice as it, too, disappeared, leaving only a faint silver ghost of a chain, only visible to Cupid, connecting the two women.
Cupid’s smile widened with satisfaction, thinking his work was done right. He’d picked up his butterbeer once again, and took a deep drink. He knew that the next time their eyes met, true love would spring.
Asha kicked off from the ground, wind whipping her robes and loose strands of hair around her face and body. She swerved her broom around, on the lookout for the Blooders that were an ever-existent threat. She’d sustained enough injuries from the things to know their danger. She swung her bat around threateningly, daring something to come close enough for her to hit.
She loved the feel of air rushing around her, the sight of the pitch far below her, the smell of the fresh-cut grass floating up to perfume the air. Flying was her one true joy. At no other time did she feel so free.
She grinned wolfishly. She swung her bat, cracking mercilessly against the large, heavy stone. It zoomed away, smashing with a resounding thud into a Catcher’s gut. He doubled over, dropping the Quaffle as he clutched at his abdomen. Her smile broadened, glad she hadn’t caused any serious injuries -- although, if truth be told, it was more that her team had possession of the Quaffle.
Asha continually bludgeoned the Blooders toward the opposition, along with her fellow, Raoul the Strong. True to his name, he slammed the Blooders toward the other players. He wasn’t very discriminatory as to who they hit, though, and managed to hurt his own players as often as the others. They, used to Raoul’s aim, managed to avoid most injury by quick swerves or a block by Asha.
As her team pulled ahead, 50 to 20, she saw a suspicious flicker of a wooden item in Raoul’s hand. She didn’t have time to think about it. A Catcher was flying extremely fast. Right toward her.
She yelled and dove, but her broom wasn’t fast enough. The player hit the end of her broom, sending her spinning wildly through the air.
Regaining control, she rose to glare at the player. She raced around the pitch, swinging more and more viciously, ready to take revenge.
“HAH!” she yelled in triumph, as a Blooder smashed into the thick skull of the dark-haired man. “TAKE THAT!”
Altheda rushed through the village, her grey cloak swinging around her small figure. From afar, she might have looked like a child, but up close, she looked focussed and slightly worried, nothing like a child at all. She’d shut down the shop so she could see her friend play in a Queerditch match, but there stood a chance that she might lose business for it. And, even though she could now afford to lose it, she didn’t want to. Destitution was not something she would like to go back to.
She shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her figure. She walked faster as the sounds of the match filled her ears. Though she was terrified of heights, she loved watching the players fly around the pitch, making daring dives and amazing saves from 50 feet above the ground.
She could see the figures flying now, barely detailed as they moved quickly in and out of sight. She watched as a turquoise-robed figure battered a flying rock at a member of the other team, garbed in yellow. She smiled as the turquoise figure punched the air, her expression surely jubilant, if she knew the person at all. Asha was a brute on that pitch, more interested in winning than the safety of anyone.
Closer the figures loomed as she came within feet of the enclosure. She jogged up the stairs to the stands, waving to some friends as walked to the front rail. She leaned on it as she looked for the score. 90 to 40, Asha’s team ahead. She remained at the rail, caught in the excitement.
She cheered as Robert Tomlinson scored, then was fouled when his robes were set on fire. He easily made the foul shot, and the game continued.
But. . . . the other team was playing nastier and nastier. Fouls continued to occur. Their gazes fell to Asha, who was continually giving their players nasty bruises with the Blooders.
“Oh, no,” Altheda breathed. The two beefiest members of the Auguries were signalling to each other, and gesturing at Asha. Their bats hung menacingly at their sides. They looked as if they could kill someone easily.
“ASHA!!!” Altheda yelled, hoping that she would be heard. Her friend did not hear, and merely swung her bat, smashing a Blooder to pieces as she did. She looked surprised, then shrugged and hit a Blooder with slightly less force at a Catcher.
“ASHA!” she yelled again. Asha head jerked, searching for the sound. Altheda yelled again, and Asha’s eyes zeroed in on Altheda’s.
Oh. Oh. Altheda’s face flooded into her mind. A feeling crept into her stomach as she stopped moving. It immobilised her. It was as if nothing else mattered in the world except Altheda.
But she had looked so worried. What was wrong? Nothing should be wrong, nothing could be wrong.
The eyes of the two women never lost contact. They were in their own world, devoid of all sound or distractions from anyone but each other. They were lost in each others’ gazes.
Reality came crashing back as Asha was slammed by two bats. She fell from her broom, barely holding onto consciousness.
Altheda’s scream was the last thing she heard as she faded off into darkness.
“Asha? Can you hear me?” A voice penetrated the cool and quiet of her mind. The most beautiful voice she had ever heard. Familiar, though. Where had she heard it?
“Asha. It’s Altheda. Can you open your eyes for me?”
Relief flooded her veins. If Altheda was there, she would be all right. She knew that.
She tentatively opened her eyes, then blinked rapidly.
Altheda sighed with relief. “Oh, thank goodness you’re all right. I was so worried. . . .” Her words trailed off as Asha’s gaze met hers with intensity.
“What in the world happened?” She shook her head, then grimaced. “Ow.”
“Hold on, I’ll get something for that. . . . where does it hurt?” Altheda was the picture of worry, her eyebrows cinched together and her eyes glistening.
Asha stretched, testing each muscle. “Mostly just my head.” She tilted her head to the side and winced. “Make that my neck, too.”
Altheda nodded, and turned to pull a bottle from a cupboard. Asha watched as she did, eyes inscrutable, not showing the turmoil churning inside of her. She had, for so long, thought that she would never find a person she would love unconditionally. She had always been sick, not able to make friends, let alone have a relationship. She’d settled for a life devoid of romance, to make her way in the world without having a person to rely on. She had not been robbed and trashed like Altheda had been, but she had the same view on life. They made their own way in the world, choosing not to rely on menfolk to make things right. They chose to take charge of their own futures, and that decision had changed them forever.
But what if that had changed? What if they found true love? Could they live in a new way, and change their views? Asha set her jaw. She would see this through, and make it work.
But did Altheda feel the same?
Similar thoughts ran through Altheda’s head. The feeling that had rushed into her at the Queerditch pitch had been dizzying. Never before in her life had such a emotion effected her. But where had it come from? Why was she now - did she dare to think it? - in love with Asha? Did Asha feel the same?
She busied herself again in her search, scolding herself for thinking such a thing. It must have been a fluke. That must be it. No way could these things happen.
But. . . she’d felt the same throughout her vigil at Asha’s side, and she thought she had seen something in her eyes as she woke.
She turned back to the bedside, thoughts in turmoil. She didn’t know it showed on her face as she poured a red liquid into a cup, until Asha lay a hand over hers.
“What is it?” she asked, her eyes as soft and worried as her voice.
“It’s. . . nothing.”
“You’re sure?”
Altheda steeled herself, and braced herself for rejection. One thing she knew was that a woman feeling things for another woman like this was completely and totally wrong. But these feelings. . . . they were just too strong.
“There is a small problem, with things.” Seeing Asha’s surprised face, she backpedalled quickly. “Not with the store, or anything like that.
“Asha, today during your match, I caught your eye to warn you, to tell you what those buffoons were planning. But I was distracted. Because when I met your eyes, something. . . odd happened.”
Asha’s eyes widened with surprise, and Altheda thought she saw hope fill them, although that may have just been wishful thinking. “There was something similar that happened for me, as well. It was as if. . . as if there were noting else in the world but-” she stopped abruptly, an embarrassed flush settling over her cheeks.
Altheda quickly looked down to veil her thoughts. Could Asha feel the same? Was this real? Was it truly happening?
But how, she thought, could she bring it into the open? Asha had been raised similarly to herself. Could that override any feelings that could be?
Seeing Asha move, she looked up from under her lashes. She had sat up, leaning her hand on the bed for support. She looked to Altheda with curiosity.
Altheda steeled herself and took a deep breath. She leaned in and took a soft hold on Asha’s chin, tilting it up, letting their lips meet in a soft kiss.
Her mind caught up with her heart as Asha did not pull away. Altheda did so, a questioning look in her eyes as she met Asha’s.
Asha didn’t reply - she merely pulled Altheda back to her mouth.
Their reserve was gone. Asha’s lips parted, her cool breath teasing Altheda’s mouth. Her tongue gently ran along the curve of Altheda’s lips, savouring the moment. Altheda opened her mouth in response, letting the kiss intensify.
Asha pulled back gently, hands cupping Altheda’s face. Her eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. “If you had told me this would happen two days ago, I would have laughed.”
Altheda smiled, relief showing in her features. “I wouldn’t have suggested it.”
“I know.”
“Do you. . . .” Altheda’s voice trailed off. Shaking her head, she gathered her thoughts. “Do you know why this happened? Or how? I-”
Asha placed a finger over her lips. “I think it’s better not to ask. Something happened, and I’m not sure I want to know what.”
Altheda’s earlier thoughts came back to her in a rush. Immediately her slight wrinkles became pronounced, and she bit her lower lip. “This can’t happen. I don’t know about you, but I was raised knowing this couldn’t happen, that anyone this happened to would be accursed, or some such thing. That it was unnatural. How can this happen? This isn’t how things are supposed to be, are they? I’m more than happy loving you, but what will people think? They can’t know, can they? What-” Her rush of words was again cut off by a soft finger over her lips.
“Enough. We’ll deal with those problems as we come to them.” Asha grinned. “Now, how about you give me that potion? Even your kisses don’t heal everything.”
Of Apothecaries and Queerditch Matches by TheSmirkingDragon
Story Notes:
Well, this was so fun to write. I hope youi all enjoy this as much as I did. I ask that you please review, even if it's only a sentence or two (though I do hope you'll give me something longer) A HUGE thank you has to go out to my beta, Iris (liquid_silver) Thas thing would be riddled in little mistakes without her help, so she gets a lifetime supply of huggles for getting it betaed in under 24 hours.
Enjoy!