Blue Skies

It felt weird to be back at one of these events. She had wandered around so many of them, just wondering why she was here. She would just wish to go home. She just held it together with a small disingenuous smile. That had been her life. Today was different. Lavender felt in control as she cruised around the room, making light conversation with the other guests. It was an event that the gallery had organised before she had started, but she held the reins in terms of the smooth running of the open night. 

"Mr Durand, you must see this piece." She smiled at the elderly man with an impressive moustache. "I just thought of you the moment I saw it."

She steered him towards the painting in the back corner. She admired a lot of the artist's work but she didn't care for this piece. She had made it her mission to sell it this evening so she didn't have to look at it everyday for the next few months. The artist was new to the scene and the best way to promote them right now was to sell as many of the pictures as possible. She stopped in front of an orange-based painting with huge black swirls which made up the sky. A tiny black house stood in the foreground. 

"Isn't it beautiful?" she asked him before he had a chance to consider, "perfect for a study - subtle enough but striking."

"It is a most impressive piece," he concluded as she smiled brightly at him. Thank Merlin. He liked the thing.  "What do you think the value of this piece could be?"

By value, he meant long term. Some people just liked art because it's pretty but collectors needed a little extra. They needed to know that in a few years that value was going to rise or at least stay stable. It was often a bit of a gamble with a new artist but profits could be impressive. The manager of the gallery was very good at trend predictions for artists. Matilda had a sense for people which was unique.  She saw something in Lavender, which is why Matilda had given her the job in the first place. 

"Honestly, Matilda has a great track record. She's very confident about this artist's future potential," Lavender told the gentleman, who was listening with a keen interest at her words. "I would imagine that a lot of pieces could be sold this evening."

That was a little generous perhaps, but he didn't need to know that. He needed to buy the piece. Suddenly, the painting began to shake violently and the small house at the front began to swing around and bounce off the edges of the frame like it was caught in a tornado. It promptly exploded and turned into lots of little leaves floating down on an autumn day. Then the house reappeared again in the foreground of the picture like it had never moved. The painting did that about every ninety minutes. Its suitability for a study would really depend on the owner's work ethic. 

Magic art could be fun in the fact that it rarely stayed still. 

"That was quite something!" he exclaimed excitedly as he gazed at the now still scene before him. "How much are you looking for for this piece?"

"It's a bargain, we're expecting to sell for around 850 Galleons," she informed him. 

That was her talent. She read people well. She could match them with paintings that they would love. She could also sell the unsellable. That was something you couldn't brew and bottle. That's why she was here. Matilda joyfully called it the ‘eye'. She'd sold a lot of paintings in the past couple of weeks. 

"I think that's well within my means and it has my name all over it."

Lavender smiled as she flicked her wand at the plaque and it changed to ‘sold'. She excused herself from the excitable man. It wasn't always as easy at that but she was pleased with a few minutes' work. She could network a bit more now she knew that particular painting was going to be nestled safely in Mr Durand's study after this evening. She helped herself to a glass of white wine.

"Lav, it's so fabulous to see you again!" a familiar voice said from behind her. "Where have you been?!"

These conversations were plentiful at the moment. It happened when someone dropped off the face of the earth for six months before reappearing again. Lavender had had a lot of time to make her excuses. The clients with more tact tended to just say "wonderful to see you again". Celeste Martin was not one of those people. She was fabulous but brash. She was someone to have cocktails with and argue about Muggle art, but not someone to understand that you'd spent the last six months in a depressive slump so bad that you could barely function. 

"Celeste!" Lavender said over-enthusiastically, but she felt a slight tension that hadn't been there before. She could do this though. She kissed Celeste on each cheek as a further greeting. "I almost didn't recognise you, the new hair colour is beautiful."

"Makes me look younger doesn't it?" Celeste said. It wasn't even a question. She was just complimenting herself. Lavender had to admire that about Celeste. She was herself in every situation, even when she was being too much. "So what have you been up to?"

"The scene got a little intense for a while." 

 Huge understatement. 

"So I decided that I needed a bit of ‘me' time," Lavender finished, hoping that was enough for Celeste. "I'm sorry"

"Thank Merlin, I thought you went crazy or something."

"Not quite, but I'm here now, that's the important thing."

"You've got that right, drinks again soon?"

"That'd be gre-"

"HENRI!" Celeste yelled across the gallery at some man that Lavender didn't recognise, and just like that she was gone.

Hurricane Celeste. 

Lavender wondered if she would ever stop apologizing for being ill. When would she get to the point where she didn't feel the need to?

*

Where did they keep the light?

Lavender kept asking herself this after days and days of flat hunting. Someone was keeping all the light to themselves. None of the places that they viewed had anywhere near the amount of natural light that she wanted for their new place. She had a good feeling about this one, though. It turned out that dream flats in Paris didn't grow on trees. There was something too precious and pure about light streaming into a room, filling it with the promise of a good day to come. She was expecting too much for a flat to provide her with instant happiness. 

She just wanted somewhere where she would be able to make the most of her painting ability. She could change any ugly decorations without too much hassle. She couldn't change the light though. Light was natural. There was light somewhere in this city and she would find it. 

She was convinced that they were getting close on this increasingly complex hunt. This place could be their new home. Seamus had remained remarkably upbeat about the endeavour to find somewhere to call home. He found something to like about each and every place. Seamus had always been good at that, always making the best of any situation. Seamus wasn't bothered about Lavender's fussiness. She had been coming around to the idea that a hunt for perfection was never going to be a happy one. So this flat was going to be the ‘one'. It wasn't fate. It was a decision. They would make whatever lay inside work.

"Here we go!" Seamus said before they went into each apartment. 

"Fingers crossed," was her normal response.

The agent came bustling out of the flat as if she had sensed their arrival.

"Bonjour, you're Lavender Brown and Seamus Finnigan then?"

"That's us," Seamus confirmed, and they went into the flat.

Lavender had said that it wasn't fate but perhaps it was. The apartment was beyond what she could have imagined really. The views and the light came in through the window, bright and bold. It was their place. She could feel it. The flat was currently an empty shell, with white walls in a shade slightly too harsh, but her imagination suddenly felt like it was soaring. 

A table and chairs could go there. The coat stand would be perfect over there and nothing would be painted bloody yellow. It was all too easy to imagine herself here. Something in her chest released. Perhaps a breath that she didn't even realise that she was holding. She wasn't sure but it felt good. So good. She had always been a bold one when it came to decisions. She felt the words leaving her mouth. She surprised herself.

"We'll take it!" she declared to Seamus, and more importantly the agent. It appeared that Seamus and the agent had been in conversation while she stood in awe. 

Just like that, they had a place to call home. 

*

Three hours.

That was the maximum time that she would need to be over in London for. The opportunity was too good to miss. She could do it. London wasn't so scary. Scotland would be scary. The Hogwarts castle would be scary. London was just big buildings and grey skies. It was manageable.  She had decided to apparate inside the building though. A key would be left for her. She might as well make it as easy for herself as possible.

The building was located near the Thames. The river that flowed through London was one of Lavender's favourite things about the city. She had been there many times but she loved iconic water. It was the most natural thing about London. The way the sunshine hit it on a summer day was something quite wonderful. There were little things to love about any place though. 

She had redecorated this unknown space a million times in her head. It was a big space in her mind. It would really suit a Jackson Pollock, she thought. She shouldn't get herself so worked up though - it wasn't like  these pieces came up for sale very often. She was getting ahead of herself again, but her head space was full with artwork. There were worse places for her head to be at. The only thing that she truly knew about this place was that it wasn't on the Floo network yet. 

Her Portkey should be activated soon. She checked her outfit again. She went a bit more professional rather than her normal style, a bit too plain for her usual tastes. Perhaps she should have just worn what she felt her best in. The black skirt was cute enough. She ran her fingers across her neck in her anxious state. She always felt her scars when she felt like this. It reminded her that they were still there. She was still here. She was still healing.

Lavender would be meeting Isolde Lightfoot after her tour of the flat at a different London address. Lavender wasn't sure what she did but Isolde appeared to be a busy woman whoever she was. She saw the glow of the Portkey. It took the form of an empty tin can that Seamus had tried to put in the cupboard on its arrival. She'd promptly moved the tin can key into her bedroom. Isolde Lightfoot didn't seem like the type of person that would appreciate a grovelling letter asking for another one, considering Lavender was supposed to be a sophisticated art expert here. 

The can quivered. It was time. She clutched her handbag a bit more firmly before touching the can. She was spirited away towards London with the slightly unpleasant feeling that always came with Portkey travel. You were never quite ready for it even when you'd spent the last twenty minutes staring at it. 

The hallway of the building was nothing special. It was very plain in decoration but Lavender knew that it was expensive by the way the carpet sprang a little underfoot, probably newly laid. She was looking around for a key but there didn't appear to be one. She nervously reached for the door handle. It opened. Who would leave the door to a very expensive apartment unlocked?

She had been blown away by their new flat in Paris but this place was something else. It seemed like all the light lived here. The space was bright and airy with big windows which had fantastic views of the London skyline. She often preferred rooms to an open-plan layout. There was something cosy and private about rooms, but this space was totally open but it suited the building completely. This was definitely Jackson Pollock worthy. The space didn't really look lived-in yet. The furniture was minimal but expensive. Lavender dug out her self-writing quill to make a few notes about the property before beginning the search for suitable artwork. She felt bubbles of excitement as she made a few mental calculations of wall sizes. The quill scribbled down her thoughts as she went. 

There was a sudden noise. Someone opening the door. No-one had mentioned that someone else might be here with her. She felt uneasy. She made for her wand as quick as possible but her handbag was resting against the sofa. Too far away to help her in case of attack realistically. Maybe she didn't need help. Shock swept across her face at the sight of the familiar man in front of her now.

"What on earth are you doing here?" she asked before she was able to form her thoughts into anything more polite than that. 

"Well, I live here so I could ask you the same question," he said. His look of confusion had rearranged itself into a rather flirty smirk. 

Oliver Wood was the client - or potentially a very good stalker.