Ribbons and Bows

Today was his turn.

Millie was out with her friends and he had several hours to make sure that he found the best set of gifts for his wife. Tomorrow would be Christmas Eve, and they had made a deal to stay home with Keiran's folks and Elliot so they could watch films, make a day of it, and Keiran could write letters about their school idea. After a bit of nudging from Millie, he had realized that it really was on him; who else was going to suggest such a thing? The only thing he knew was that if this was going to happen, he would have to try and talk her out of being around the school too much. If anything happened...

No, that was something he refused to think about. They could keep a couple people in the Ministry as sort of ears and eyes, to make sure they would know if the Minister or anyone found out about the school and decided to 'check in'.

Thoughts of the school were pushed to the back of his mind for a moment as he made it to the rows of stalls he and Millie had passed through the other day when they had made their deal.

Keiran wasn't sure, exactly, where he had seen the little store during his and Millie's last visit out into town. So instead, he retraced the path they had taken (aside from their frequent stops and basically acting like fourth years) until he could find it again. How he was actually going to find it, though, was a mystery; he was too distracted to really focus on what he was seeing. Sure, the items, people, and stores passed in front of him, but his mind didn't register what they were.

Instead, he was concerned about what else he needed to get for Millie, among other things. Sure, the kitten would entertain her, but it hardly seemed personal. Well, unless someone decided to point out that having a pet was rather like having a child. But they already had Lucy-cat, sort of (or maybe the cat owned them. Sometimes Keiran couldn't tell.) so it wasn't like they didn't already have that relationship. He paused in his steps. Maybe another kitten wasn't the way to go. But it certainly would nudge Millie into telling him what was going on, wouldn't it?

Shaking his head, Keiran decided that if she hadn't told him in a week, he'd just up and get a kitten and pointedly hand it to her with some claim that it was now their baby. See what she would make of that. The mental image made him smile to himself before glancing around. Ah, there was the bookstore. And the scarf stall. What could he get her that she hadn't already seen or didn't have? Maybe it would be better to head out somewhere else. Making up his mind, he turned on his heel and found himself standing in Diagon Alley.

At least here, he mused, there were more options. His feet carried him through the doors of the Leaky to pick up a warm drink to carry along with him as he searched for the gift that just screamed “Millie” at him. Leaving his order with the bartender, Keiran sat down to wait for the cocoa to be poured into a cup and a lid set atop it. He didn't expect it to be as good at Bridget's or Melissa's, but it would be warm, so he would go with it. Pulling his coat closer around him, he glanced around the Leaky as his mind trailed off again.


(OOC: I figured they were going to walk around, so I set this here. Also, Amy is going to stick Millie in after a while for kicks XD)

Christmas. Which meant, presents.

Alisha didn't like presents.

Oh no, no, not that like she didn't like receiving presents. In fact, her parents had lavished her with fifteen presents on her fifteenth birthday; and that was of course discounting all the aunts and uncles and cousins and nieces and nephews and all other possibly far-flung relations possible in an Indian joint family setup. It was the giving of the presents which was the problem. Because she always inevitably ended up getting confused on whether it was Aunt Marguerite or Aunt Mansi who was doing the thesis on Norse mythology; and whether Cousin Eddie or Nephew Ferdie was the vodka aficionado- and every year she managed to irrevocably offend some relative or the other who was a sworn vegetarian who she sent dried kangaroo fillets (she was still going to blame Eddie for that one) or the prim, bespectacled, model-child Andre who she sent the latest scintillating Mills & Boon (and she had been so sure his name was Andrea. Sigh. )

Add to that the fact that a good fraction of her family didn't even celebrate Christmas, but would naturally feel very affronted if their 'darling Alisha' forgot to sent them a nice, little gift. Their calendar was liberally sprinkled with festivals and revelries with them being the multicultural party that they were; almost every month called for yet another hour spent in drawing up lists of family members, thinking up presents that were slowly but surely losing in originality (she just resorted to chocolate most of the time, it tended to be a safe option. Except that diabetic aunt. Once. ), and worst of all, the considerable lightening of the pocket. Liberal as her parents were, they also tended to be out of touch with her half of the time, merrily frolicking in Libya or Bolivia or heaven-knows-where-it-is-this-time; which meant a good three month delay in the mailing of pocket money once the appeal had been properly worded, cried over, and sent.

Being Alisha Merchant was so much hard work.

To make things a little, little more tolerable, Alisha was bunking over with a friend that she had met in Australia not less than a year back; who was currently holidaying with her parents in England. They were pretty well off, owning a chain of restaurants in Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide and a couple other places: but still insisted on staying over at the Leaky Cauldron when they touched down in England. It wasn't like the olden times where the Cauldron was the only inn for miles and miles around, heck there was a highly fashionable wizarding hotel not three blocks down- but they insisted it was 'tradition'. Alisha of course, acquiesced without a single word of complaint. And didn't she feel like a downright angelic countenance all the while; but she so did hate to fuss. Naturally.

But the heavens loved her. She did so have to keep that in mind, she mused, even as she collected her usual mish-mash of three drinks that she closed her eyes and pointed at in the pin-up menu; because ahoy, as she turned round from the counter and looked around: there was Professor Hayes.

Carrying her drink in her left, which was rather a brilliant shade of violet if she said so herself, she walked over and plopped down on the seat next to him, setting her glass down with a thunk. Propping both elbows on the wooden table, and chin in palms: Alisha shot a sweet, sweet smile at the aformentioned man, requesting all deities that were half-arsed to listen that her voice wouldn't sound half as entranced as it wished to be.

"Morning Professor. Out on errands?"

Keiran had just settled into his chair when a familiar looking girl walked up to him, offering a greeting. His eyes scanned over her once, trying to place her, before he realized she'd called him 'Professor'. Ah. He remembered now. That absurdly outgoing Hufflepuff. Her name? No, he didn't think he knew. Keiran tried thinking back to any discussions with the other professors.

”That Hufflepuff girl, Miss Merchant, sure talks a lot, hmm, Keiran?” The Potions Professor had asked him one morning. Keiran hadn't really intended to talk to them at all, but rather had been avoiding a certain Divination Professor he simply could not stand. He could just hear Millie's scolding voice in his ear.

“I haven't had her causing any trouble in my classes,” he noted vaguely, the pointed tone of his voice suggesting that perhaps the other professor simply didn't have a hold on their students. Keiran watched as they huffed and walked away, rolling his eyes.

Glancing at the floor between them and around her chair, he noted she lacked any sign of being out with friends – she wasn't holding a bag for anyone, he deduced, but she had bought a drink so she apparently was content to spend some time in the pub.

Should he mention that he wasn't a Professor anymore? Probably, he decided. Otherwise she would just find out anyway when she returned to Hogwarts. He didn't think she was one of the 'Half-Breeds' the Ministry had shoo'd. She seemed rather intent on talking to him, so he couldn't just ignore her and pretend to be someone else, as much as the Slytherin in him was suggesting.

“Morning, Miss Merchant” Keiran greeted slowly, voice almost a drawl in his confusion at her approach as well as his amusement at the alliteration, “Yes, I'm doing some shopping. I should probably tell you, though, I'm resigning from my post. You don't need to call me professor anymore.”

The barkeep came over to side the lidded container towards Keiran's waiting hand, then dawdled around until the right amount of money had been exchanged for it. He glanced at the dark haired girl sitting to his right, wondering how quickly he could leave without it seeming horribly rude. She was younger than him by a massive amount, so perhaps he could pull rank and just excuse himself. Keiran twisted in his chair to face the exit, intent hopefully clear to the loquacious Hufflepuff seated beside him.

“I haven't actually managed to get any of my shopping done, so I should head out..” He trailed off, sipping from his drink to cover his inability to function well enough to finish his sentence. He had never been particularly good with talking to others, especially those so many years younger than him and those he had no attachment to.

It was different, for example, with Millie. She was vastly different than him in both age and personality, but after the time they had been together it all worked out rather well. The thought of her drove home the point that he had yet to find anything suitable to give to her. He nearly wondered if he should just give in and bloody well make something. He was running out of time.

Ohmygod. She took it back. She took it all bloody back.

The heavens didn't love her. They despised her. There could be no other possible explanation.

Professor.....Professor Hayes.....that brilliant, brilliant masterpiece of a man......was leaving?

The world didn't deserve to exist.

Who would she stare at on dreary, rain-cloud ridden breakfast mornings when the house elves forgot to make raspberry jam, trying to drown her sorrows? Who would make tedious, double Transfiguration classes worth the effort of keeping awake? Who would she compare every boy she met to, and then utterly give up all the males of her generation for lost? Whose voice would be God's gift to girl student-kind, and she'd bet her broomstick on it, a good portion of the....ah, differently-inclined boys? Oh for Merlin's sake, who?

"No. No, no, no, no, no." Even as Professor Hayes turned in his seat slightly, as if poised to rise and exit from her life forever, Alisha jumped to place, securely cutting off his vision of the door, bright, large eyes and small, downturned mouth working in unison to produce a look that a begging puppy would be insanely jealous of. It, was art. Her voice made quite a decent attempt at reasonable normality , "I mean....Professor....surely you should reconsider. You must have worked so hard at your job.....to bring your students where they are today. Think of the couple of people who actually managed to do you proud. Think of all those hours spent needling at the idiots who passed only because of your infinite amounts of patience. Just. Think." Her hands were twisting into one another, pressed into her lap; her chin quirked and angled up, the entire demeanor brilliantly entreating. "You wouldn't want to leave all of that, would you?"

Of course she could have said so much more. She could have affirmed that he was the best Transfiguration teacher like..........ever. But she couldn't say that, because her brain was naturally objective, and protested that all the Transfiguration teachers ever had never taught her; and she hardly listened to what Professor Hayes really taught in class anyway- so it wouldn't be complete truth. Damn that stupid Vow. She could also have announced that she, and probably half of the student population was madly in love with him; but then that would be emotional blackmail, and Alisha never resorted to something like that, no sirree.

Of course her conscience thwacked her upside the head for that- then how were all the pleas over the years to her parents fulfilled, if not by emotional blackmail? Alisha ignored it completely. At least she could relish the freedom of lying inside your own head.

But the man was going to leeeeaaave......and darn how was she supposed to convince him if he didn't even give her the requisite time? She was one of the people who could persuade the Queen of England to adopt the Giant Squid, if she put her mind to it. Of course, it would be less of persuasion and more of incessant-bugging-until-ultimate-surrender, but Alisha Merchant was a force of nature when she made up her mind on something. And now, she vowed this, on the blood of her grandfathers. Kieran Hayes would not leave the hallowed halls of Hogwarts until her fifth year was over.

Because there was no denying he was gorgeous, but even she didn't swoon over him to the extent as to throw herself into the snake-lined pit that was NEWT Transfiguration.

So, now she needed something to buy time. Time, time, time.......

"What a coincidence!" Her voice was loud and fake-cheery enough to startle herself. Also to make the goblins sitting at the table next to theirs jump out of their skins and glare at her balefully. "Even I have Christmas shopping to do. Lets get it done together then, right Professor?"

Keiran stared at the Hufflepuff in an almost awed state; How had she managed to figure exactly what was going on in his head? It had always been one of those subconscious (yet noted from time to time, as things like this so often were) goals for one of his students to return to him someday and exclaim to him just how much they owed him or how far they had gone in life or Transfiguration because of his help. Didn't all professors want that? Or was he just so unsure of his abilities that he hoped someone would prove him wrong? He wasn't sure.

The thing tugging at the back of his mind was how completely panicked the girl sounded. That, above all things, kept him from leaving right away. There was no reason for her to react that way. Not that Keiran could figure, at least. It wasn't as though she was some Transfiguration student that spent all of her time in his extra sessions or anything.

“It isn't entirely up to me, Miss Merchant.” He started, unsure if he was able to talk about the Ministry in such a place or with this girl who might disagree with him. “I have other things I have to do with my time, as much as I would love to stay on,” he continued, replacing his exact reason with a vague one that she might be less likely to question.

He was standing to move around her and make some semblance of an escape when she started on again.

No, he didn't think that made sense. Who would ever think that he and this – what was she? A fifth year? Maybe younger? - this student walking around the Alley together made sense? It didn't. It didn't work out in his head, especially since he had never really gotten to know her and couldn't remember her talking at all in his classes.

“I really don't know if that's a good idea..” He replied warily, slightly thrown off at the fact that she still addressed him as 'professor'. But then, he hadn't given her anything better, so it wasn't as if he could realistically be upset with her.

He also couldn't come up with a viable excuse for why, exactly, she shouldn't tag along with him. Except perhaps that he had absolutely no idea what she could possibly think of to talk about or why on earth she would even want to follow him around Diagon Alley. But those were questions, not reasons. So he just held his cup tighter and stepped around her to move towards the door.

“It isn't entirely up to me, Miss Merchant. I have other things I have to do with my time, as much as I would love to stay on.”

Wringing her hands was becoming an urge that was almost impossible to ignore. It would solve nothing though. And meanwhile, Professor Hayes was being entirely unhelpful, quite obviously trying to leave and simultaneously being all official and Professor-like although he had apparently ditched his job. Didn't the man understand how difficult it was to concentrate and cook up a plan when his voice went all gravelly as he said, Miss Merchant that way? Looked like even he wasn't immune to the widespread foolishness that infected all males. Pity.

But, no no, she was getting distracted from the main objective again. Operation Convince Professor Hayes To Stay At Hogwarts and Prevent All Students From Dying Untimely Death. Hm, a rather clumsy name. Unwieldy too. Operation CPH for short, then. Short and snappy.

And meanwhile, aforesaid man had raised a pretty relevant question about the 'goodness' of the idea, and had stepped around her to exit the inn- ensuring that CPH died a pathetic, tremulous death, decaying in its burial place, over before it had even truly begun. Darn.

So Alisha shot to her feet, and covered the distance in a few quick, agile steps- and there she was again, smiling repentantly at Professor Hayes' face, fingers unmindfully tugging on a few stray, wild locks that had sneaked down the side of her cheek. "I can guess what you're thinking Professor, and trust me, I understand." Voice just a little rueful and apologetic, Alisha folded her hands behind her back, shoulders lifting. "Thing is......people can get a bit overprotective and I really needed to get a few Christmas presents for my friend and her family, whom I'm spending the holidays with. Obviously I can't do that in front of them. And whether I'll be allowed to go outside alone or not....." Her mouth turned down, just the right curl of disappointment. "They wouldn't mind if I went with a Professor so......." She peeked up, through her lashes. "I would really appreciate it if I could tag along."

The fire of triumph surging through her veins was difficult to quench. It still happened- a second after Alisha lied, yes lied, putting her words so carefully and nonchalantly, then waited for the blow to come. For her heart to still. For magic to exact its revenge on a vow reneged. It was a stupid risk to take for something so small.....but she still did it, relishing the control. This particular one had almost been easy. Yes, 'people could be overprotective'. That didn't necessarily mean her friend's parents or her own guardians were, even though that was what was implied. But not strictly, technically a lie. Nor did she outright say that she would be disallowed to go. Just implied it.

Alisha smiled inwardly, with just that edge of victory. Take that, you stupid Vow. Unbreakable, my arse.

Meanwhile of course, she continued to look up, sweet and unassailable. Self-assured too, couldn't miss that fact. She didn't doubt for a second the response coming her way.

Keiran's brow furrowed when he noticed the dark head of hair rushing to fall into step with him. He looked down at her and found himself even more surprised – she was looking almost embarrassed. The way she had to pause and push words out certainly added to that image, he noted. Unfortunately for Keiran, his Slytherin sensibilities didn't quite manage to kick in around his students or people who came to him for help. Why, he couldn't say. But when the Hufflepuff looked up at him with the pitiful face of someone in need he couldn't bring himself to turn her down. The professor in him refused the idea of leaving her on her own.

Regardless of how weird it all seemed, or how little he believed this girl could actually get into any trouble, Keiran looked down at his cup with a furrowed brow before sighing quietly. “Yes, alright Miss Merchant. I suppose you should come along.”

Turning his head pointedly towards the door, Keiran pushed it open and held it for her so she could pass through behind him. When he released the door, he tugged his jacket closer and took a drink from his cup to soak up the warmth. He briefly wondered if she was cold, but made no move to ask. He clearly hardly knew her. It would probably be better, then, for him not to get to know her. To make an event like this unlikely if not impossible in the future.

His feet led towards the first shop he saw, hoping desperately that it would be something sensible and provide perfect inspiration for Millie's gift. He felt like a total git for not being sure about what he should get her. Any normal husband would know exactly what she wanted or needed or would even like. But Keiran had only experienced her at school, when all that mattered was learning now to make things work. Even in their week at his home, he had never once asked what she wanted. It would have been all too obvious that he was useless when it came to gift giving.

The best he had ever done, gift wise, was when he'd made his mum this extensive booklet of 'coupons' for things like his paying for a spa day or making her dinner or taking care of the horses for a week or whatever else he could come up with. Why did he suddenly feel like he would be stuck falling back on that? Millie certainly wouldn't be impressed. He frowned, mind distracted by the worry of it all. Why was the holiday so bloody complicated?

He glanced over at Miss Merchant once more, wondering how he had gotten himself into the situation in the first place. The store he was leading them to was one with all variety of magical and muggle things, so at least he had the option of a variety of things. Hopefully the young girl would find things as well and let the both of them go home.

“Yes, alright Miss Merchant. I suppose you should come along.”

Alisha wondered if it would be a teensy-weensy bit of an over-reaction if she pumped her fist and did a victory dance around the pub.

It wouldn't. So she'd do it the moment Professor Hayes turned his back to walk out.

Except of course, with him being the perfect, impeccable gentleman that he is: he opened the door for Alisha to walk first. Blast.

She stepped outside into the snow, immediately burying her gloved hands into the depths of her jean pockets. Not glove gloves obviously: the thin, fingerless kind which clung to her palms like a second skin, and in her opinion, made her hands look longer and more kick-ass.

What? She liked long fingers. All slender and tapering like. Artist fingers, y'know. Too bad her own, with shorn, blunted nails and scrapes and bruises dotting them all over, looked more like a carpenters.

Obviously, her skin prickled and the hair stood up immediately, pebbling her arms with goosebumps in response to the icy air outside. Obvious because she had nothing but a thin jacket flung on her sleeved tee- whose three quarter sleeves she tugged on rather vigorously from time to time in order to cover the area above her wrist, and warm it better. Thing was, Alisha was a bit allergic to wool. Not literally of course, but she despised thick clothes that swathed all around you and seemed to triple your body fat and made you look like a mountain. And she......liked to let her hands and legs.....hang free, sorta. Breathe. So even as the shivers kicked in as a response to the low temperatures outside, Alisha lifted her chin and inhaled deeply, corners of lips turning up slightly. The flighty snowflakes were already beginning to settle on her eyelashes.

"So.......what are you planning to get, Professor?" Words escaped, bright and throwaway, even through numbed lips as the bell tinkled over their heads and they stepped inside the store, scrubbing their soles at the doormat. The place was decked with lights, not gaudily all over the place, but in tasteful swirls that peeked out from corners and served to illuminate the wares appealingly. Alisha ran a trailing finger over a soft, cashmere scarf, eyes darting to its bright peacock-blue hue, with embroidered silver thread that shimmered delicately in the light. "Since I insisted on tagging along, its only fair that we get your gifts first, right?"

Her left hand lifted the scarf from display, twisting an edge of it around her finger, and held it to the light. The enchantments were clearly visible: the thread marked out a flock of doves rustling around the edges, taking flight. Alisha bent her face to it and inhaled, the light scent of night-blooming jasmine filling her nose: a fragrance that she knew, was cradled in a place miles away from here.

"Charmed to smell of home." She murmured, then lifted it free of the stand completely. "Pretty, no?"

The plan was simple. Distract the man with other things, divert it from the topic, wait till he was at ease.......then begin the attack.

Absolutely brilliant.

She had clearly failed to prepare for the painfully cold weather outside, because Keiran could practically feel her shivering beside him. Would it be awkward if he stuck with his typical attempt at being a gentleman and offered her his coat? It would be, he decided finally, but that didn't ease his guilt. Why she didn't cast some sort of charm to warm herself up, he didn't know. At least he had planned ahead, decked out in a long-sleeved shirt and gloves and the like.

“Hold this, would you?” He asked, extending the cup so she could take hold of it. Once it was out of his hand he shrugged his shoulders so his coat slid down his arms and grabbed it before it attempted to fall into the snow. “Here,” he added, offering the coat and taking the cup back in exchange. “Just don't let me leave without it.”

Sure, the chill stung a little, but he didn't feel quite so badly about the Hufflepuff being frosted with snow. Thank Merlin Robin wasn't around; Keiran would never have heard the end of it. They approached the store, her question nearly getting blown away with the wind. He was opening his mouth to explain that he had no bloody idea what he was looking for when she continued.

Shrugging, he took a drink from his cup before replying. “I don't mind either way. I'm not exactly sure what I'm looking for. Just some extra things I suppose.” It wouldn't do to admit that he had absolutely no idea what to get Millie. No, then the brunette would decide that she needed to spend the rest of the day suggesting things for her or sommat. That just wouldn't do.

Keiran would sooner just accept something she suggested and help her find her things than stay out in the cold all day. He did better inside, by the fire. Preferably with Lucy-cat settled next to him on one side and Millie curled up on the other. He smiled faintly at the idea before realizing he was being addressed again.

“How strange..” He murmured, extending a hand to lift one end of the scarf towards him. As expected, it smelled of his mum's cocoa and the trees that surrounded the home. Somehow, Keiran wasn't sure Millie would like that. What, exactly, did she consider 'home' to be, anyways? The question unnerved him so he side stepped that item and began looking around. “Hmm. Maybe.” He offered, not wanting to outright rebuke her suggestion.

He stepped further into the store, not feeling drawn to anything in particular. People really should never let him shop. Nothing good came from it.

“What is it you're looking for then?” He asked over his shoulder, glancing back at her. He'd nearly called her 'Miss Merchant' again, but then how many times could he say it before it got annoying? And besides, it wasn't like he knew her first name. He'd never asked since he didn't have need to as of now. He nearly regretted it before deciding it wouldn't matter after the day was out.