Blue Skies

You hired me!"

"I didn't hire you, Izzy must have chosen you."

She wanted to be furious with him. The look on his face did show genuine surprise. She wanted this job because she was knowledgeable about art. She was good enough to do what she was employed to do. Lavender had spent enough time feeling like a pretender in her own life. She was good enough. Maybe it was just that fate had plans for her today.

"I said that I wanted art and frankly I was expecting someone a bit more, erm, French?" Oliver commented, the tone in his words gave her the impression that he had just been checking her out.

"Tu veux dire quelqu'un qui pourrait se faire pousser la moustache?" she asked him. Of course he was expecting a man. Typical.

"Ton accent, on n'y est pas encore."

Cheeky git.

"Ah, you forgot I speak French then."

That was very interesting. Anyone who could knock her on her arse conversation-wise was someone worth keeping around. She was a little embarrassed that she hadn't remembered that. She smiled at him. She was enjoying this interaction more with each word he said.

"What if I did?"

"I haven't forgotten anything about that night you know." he said, his blue eyes firmly clamped on her, looking for a reaction. The way he spoke so felt emotionally intimate but at the same time, it was almost a dare.

What a line - it wasn't necessarily a bad thing though. She had forgotten a lot of their conversation but she still felt whatever connection they had. Whatever this might be. It wasn't going to wait until she felt ready. She had tried to put the brakes on someone like him. These feelings were coming for her. It was like he was the best and worst idea that she had ever had. She felt quite dizzy, maybe that accounted for what happened next.

"Then why didn't you contact me?"

She had said a lot of stupid things over the years but this had to rank pretty highly. It was quite obvious why. He had given her his number. He wanted her to make the move and she didn't. Lavender should have made the move. She wished she had. She sounded so needy. That was the last thing that she wanted to be but here they were.

"I was putting the decision in your hands for a reason. I'm not the guy who hounds women into going out with them on the pretext of it being romance," he said, appearing surprised by her questioning. It was the perfect answer though. "I did think we had a spark though."

A spark?

How did you even define what that meant?

It wasn't something you defined though. It wasn't even something that you needed to define. It was just something that you knew in your gut - that magnetism.

"We did, I think we do," she confessed.

"Okay, so go to brunch with me then?"

"I can't go to brunch with you, I have a meeting with Isolde in an hour. It would be unprofessional to be late."

"Let's go to Rome then."

"Rome?"

"Yes, it's nice there, you know that Fountain and Colosseum."

Lavender thought he was trying to be nonchalant but she noticed he appeared to light up at the prospect of adventure. His eyes were so blue that she could just drown in them.

"I've been to Rome before," she said a little abruptly.

Technically - this was true, but she had been eleven. It was the summer before she started Hogwarts. She could barely remember being there - the memories had faded and been replaced by a blur of mismash colours and sounds. She was once told that was trauma in physical form. It felt like trying to untangle particularly messed up Christmas lights in her head. She would give anything to remember her trip to Rome. A wisp of a memory floated to the top of her mind suddenly, her mother laughing as her father tried to order their meal in Italian. Those memories were buried somewhere. She wanted to make more though, before she got scared or too proud to say yes to Oliver's frankly crazy offer. Maybe Oliver's Italian pronunciation would be better than her father's. She wanted to find out.

"I would love to go."

"I'll get my assistant to fix it into my calendar then," he said with a smile playing on his lips. He was excited and so was she. She tried to keep the grin away from her face though.

His smile was so sexy.

She realised that she couldn't keep her eyes off him - at least that feeling seemed to be mutual.

"Maybe you could tell me a bit about your art taste now?" she said in what she hoped was a professional tone as the spell was broken.

"I was thinking that The Unknown would look brilliant over there," he said airily, pointing towards one of the largest blank walls.

That was an interesting request.

‘The Unknown' wasn't going to leave France ever, especially not to sit on some quidditch player's wall. He knew that though. The UK and France had been fighting about it for years. ‘The Unknown' was nicknamed that because no-one really knew the details of it. No time or proper dating on the piece. It was probably the slight air of mystery that it carried that made it all the more appealing. It was a painting created by Merlin which depicted the four Hogwarts founders around the great lake with the mighty Hogwarts Castle as its backdrop. It was roughly dated to the very early creation of Hogwarts.

It was quite obvious that realistically that Merlin was no artist. It was not a remarkable piece in any art circles. The technique was basic. It was subject for debate that Merlin may have been only eleven when it was painted. Regardless of the quality of art, it was always going to be a UK national treasure apart from that this painting had been in France for longer than anyone can remember. There were theories ranging from theft of it from England to Merlin himself gifting it to a French lover. It was a constant sticking point between the two governments.

The idea of that painting was going anywhere was ridiculous. Oliver either had stupidly high standards or was teasing her. She thought it must be the latter. The fact that he knew about it suggested that he cared about art at least a bit. That was a rather appealing idea to her. An idea that made her wish that she hadn't said no to brunch right now.

"I see you've got high standards."

Potentially unrealistic ones, but she couldn't help admire it.

"Very."

*

Isolde Lightfoot was an impressive-looking woman. She was probably around late thirties or early forties. She was very striking. The high cheekbones, short choppy haircut and some sharp tailoring gave off a strong aesthetic that she wasn't someone to be messed with. Oliver had called her Izzy earlier, but Lavender could not imagine this woman as an Izzy. She was Oliver's PR agent but Lavender wasn't supposed to know that. Art is a lot about image, so she guessed it made sense that Isolde would organise that.

"Miss Brown, it's lovely to meet you," she greeted.

Her warm greeting towards Lavender suggested Isolde was a lot friendlier than she looked.Lavender thought she heard a hint of an accent there. There might have been Australian twang to Isolde's words.

"Lavender, please."

"I understand that you've been to the client's apartment, I'm sure that you'll agree that it's a beautiful space."

"There is a lot of potential."

"I'll cut to the chase. I'm sure that you're interested in the details, so my client has a very generous budget. We're thinking about five million Galleons for the art, five thousand Galleons for your service."

Lavender loved things. She would happily bathe in champagne if possible and diamonds were most definitely a girl's best friend but those figures were mind-blowing for her. Five thousand Galleons was months and months worth of rent even in the new tower-view place. That was thousands of her favourite croissants from that place down the road. She couldn't really get her head around doing something she loved so much for money. She fought to give nothing away but Seamus had always said that she had such an expressive face.

Five million Galleons wouldn't exactly buy ‘The Unknown' but there was most certainly a lot to play with. Maybe she could visit some galleries in Rome, assuming that she hadn't chickened out of her date with Oliver by then. She wasn't sure that Oliver would appreciate having the imposing Renaissance figures that Italy had to offer watching over him while he was in bed though. Now was not the time to be thinking about Oliver in bed though.

"Brilliant, how will I be able to access those funds?"

"The client and I have agreed that you'll be given account details for a Gringotts account so you can access the funds when appropriate and at your discretion."

Isolde continued "I must inform you that we are under a bit of a time crunch for this assignment. The client has a home shoot for a magazine at the end of next month so the artwork will need to be secured by then."

She would have been dying to know who the client was by now if she hadn't spent the morning with him. Oliver and her seemed to exist in very different worlds. He spent five million Galleons on art and did magazine shoots. She was guilty of buying a pair of expensive shoes then living off toast for next two weeks. She didn't exactly have the most measured existence.

"I assume you have a Gringotts account, you can leave the details with my assistant, Talia," Isolde said in a business-like tone. Something told Lavender that this meeting was over.

"I don't have a Gringotts account, I have an account at Banque Centrale des Sorciers de Paris," she informed Isolde.

Something unexpected then happened. There was a knock at the door. The knock was brisk but the person behind the door didn't wait to be invited in. She was trying to hold it together but Oliver's presence seemed to have left her feeling a little breathless.

"Ah, I didn't expect you to be here, Oliver," Isolde greeted him. "Oliver, this is Lavender Brown, I've contracted her to buy the artwork for your London pad."

"Lavender, what a beautiful name,"she heard him say, and she was now aware that he was touching her too. He was shaking her hand. He was pretending he didn't know her. He was smiling as they shook hands. He placed his other hand on top of hers to prolong their greeting. He was teasing her. All she could do was smile at him.

"You too," Lavender said a little too breathlessly.

She realised a little too late that her sentence made no sense in the context. She most definitely looked unprofessional now. Isolde probably assumed that she was some crazed fan of Oliver's.

"So should I just give my details to your assistant then?" she asked, tearing her eyes away finally from Oliver.

She hurried out of the room a bit too quickly to realise that she left her bag in the room with Isolde and Oliver. She had just been in such a hurry to get out that she didn't even ask where to get her portkey from either. Talia, the assistant, didn't seem to be anywhere around. It wouldn't be too weird to just pop back in and get it. She paused before knocking: the door was still ajar and she could hear the voices inside. Maybe she wouldn't be going in anytime soon. She would just have to be trapped here.

"Aiden has updated your diary to say you're going to Rome next month? Why wasn't I informed of any engagements in Rome?" Isolde asked briskly.

"It's personal, not work," Oliver shot back.

This was a bit of a frosty conversation to be getting in the middle of. It felt ridiculous to stand outside the door though. Maybe she could just forget about the bag, she didn't need money or house keys. The bag itself was one of her favourites though, so she couldn't leave it.

"Since when do you have a personal life?" Isolde asked. "This better not have anything to do with the leggy blonde with the war tattoos."

Wow. She didn't know if she should be impressed that someone had found a new way to describe her scars. It wasn't quite as bad as ‘hideous' or ‘gruesome', which she had heard in the past. She had heard it all in the past.

"It's not exactly your business."

"Oliver, you are literally my business," Isolde hit back quickly. This felt like a rather intense tennis match as Lavender guiltily watched their back and forth. "That look between you two, I should have known that you knew each other."

"Give me a break."

"I'll vet her."

"You are under no circumstances to do that."

"I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't, your brand is too important!"

"I'm quitting Quidditch, so there's no brand to speak of."

"Oliver! You can't be serious!"

That was some mic drop - was he really quitting quidditch?

"Oliver!"

Oliver had come powering out of the exchange. There wasn't exactly any time to pretend that she hadn't been listening to their conversation. He didn't seem to care though. He handed her a familiar looking black bag on it's golden chain.

"See you in Rome, owl me, you know where I live now," he said.

That smile again.

He was gone before she even had the chance to say thank you. She definitely had to owl him. However, she had the more pressing issue of locating this mystery assistant right now.

*

"We're getting drunk."

So this wasn't exactly the greeting that she'd expected. She was glad that Seamus hadn't started his new job yet. Lying on the floor of your apartment on a Tuesday afternoon didn't scream stable human. Who was she to talk though?

"What's happened?"

"And not your posh drunk either, shit-faced drunk!" he said, totally ignoring her question.

By the looks of him, it seemed like Lavender had a bit of catching up to do.

"Sandro dumped me," he said dully.

"Shall I get the tequila then?"

Seamus fell for people so hard that he was always devastated when things went wrong. He had issues with crushes too. He was a big feelings person, just like Lavender. It was part of what made them such good friends. They never viewed each other as ‘too dramatic'. It was just them and that was okay. Lavender was going to get drunk because he needed her right now. They weren't big drinkers normally but it was a special situation. Being dumped warranted it. Ice cream could only go so far.

Lavender could only assume that Alessandro had gone back to Italy or something because they had been getting on so well beforehand. They spent most days together but maybe that had just grown too much for Alessandro. She wasn't sure. That's what passion did to you and why it was so crushing when those sparks fizzled. In the beginning, Lavender had been so passionate about Parvati, so she got it. Sandro was only supposed to be fun though. She went into the cupboard and pulled out the vodka and tequila.

"Yes, please, you don't need to bother with glasses either."

She necked the vodka from the bottle. She wasn't used to the burn as it went down. She normally would mix her drinks. She didn't particularly like her alcohol to taste like it. She decided to bring the shot glasses with her.

"So tell me all about it," she said as she kicked off her heels and sat cross-legged next to Seamus on the floor.

"Idiot said he was going back to Italy, that we had a great holiday romance. Why do I always get attached to people like this?"

Because they, Lavender and Seamus, needed people. They had spent a lot of their childhood years clawing at anyone who would stay with them while the War raged on. The fear that they might be snatched away from them had grown really deep. It was a scar left from the war, a real one but invisible one. Seamus probably knew why too, some personalities were just more prone to those kinds of wounds than others. Big emotions meant big lows too. It was unfortunate but she knew that Seamus would bounce back. He had been hit way worse than this in the past.

"There is nothing wrong with you," she pointedly reminded him. She opted for a slight change in direction."So I can name a million reasons why Sandro is an arsehole or I can tell you about my meeting with Oliver."

"Can I have both please?"

"Oliver was the client. I was in his bloody flat then he just showed up out of the blue! He might be my dream man if that's possible and somehow I'm going to brunch in Rome with him, who does that?"

"Rich-arse quidditch players."

"I think I like him."

"I could have told you that beforehand."

She hated it when Seamus was right. Seamus was basically always right as well. He could read her like a damn book.

"Do you miss Parvati? Like do you think you'll get back together?"

It seemed like Seamus's thought process went somewhere Lavender didn't understand because the question came completely out of the blue. He hadn't really asked much about Parvati. Lavender thought he was just letting her get over it in her own time. She had thought enough about Parvati for a lifetime. Lavender didn't need that release of talking about her too. Something about the question seemed like it was more about Seamus than Lavender though.

"Merlin, Shay, are we really talking about this?" she groaned a little as he nodded. "Fine, fine, I thought we might do but the more time goes on I think that we won't. It feels like we had our chance and if love was really enough then we would still be together but we're not and that's okay to be honest."

"Why are you bringing up my emotional trauma anyway? Sandro was hardly the love of your life."

"Was Parvati the love of your life?"

Lavender seriously did not want to answer that. She chose another shot instead, and another. If she was drinking, that meant he couldn't ask anymore questions. It was most likely a poor plan but she didn't know how to answer that question. She hoped that Parvati wasn't the love of her life. She was only twenty-four, so she had never voiced it, but she was scared of a world where you only got one love. She and Parvati had been together for five years on and off, was that all life had to offer?

Parvati would always be the first love. There was nothing that was going to erase that. Maybe Lavender should have tried harder but she knew that she had nothing to give to that relationship anymore. She had been fighting for long enough as it was. In the end, it was just like sand slipping through her fingers until nothing was left. Lavender wanted to love again.

"What are you getting at with all of these questions about Parv?"

"Michael wants to meet up soon."

"Michael? Like Michael Corner? Lost your virginity in the Room of Requirements Michael?"

Seamus snorted with laughter at her words.

"Bingo!"

Michael was the one that got away. The reason why he was asking about Parvati was his purely selfish way of figuring out how he felt about Michael trying to walk back into his life again.