The King Girl

tw: mental illness

He snorted. “Yeah. You get used to it. I’d rather fly in heat than snow, though.” Jackson smiled at her, nudging her gently with his hip, before following her inside. “Please. It looks fine. Have you seen my place? Hot mess and I’ve been there for six months.” He looked around the kitchen, silent for a moment, before looking back to Chelsea. “You miss it?” He nodded towards the kitchen. “The shop.”

Chelsea shook her head, making a face. “I prefer fall in all circumstances, but I’m far more okay with the cold than the heat. Even if it blocks my vision some, give me snow. At least it also makes it harder for a chaser to see my bludger coming.” She hopped onto one of the counters, letting her feet dangle as she shrugged, staring down at her boots. “Sometimes. I think I more miss that rush I got in knowing someone loved something I’d created, you know? That was the good part. I don’t miss the stress of having my own business at all. And at least I’ve been kept busy with Dylan’s wedding cake.” She chewed on the inside of her lip before forcing a smile. “You’ve been asking all the big questions today. What about you? How do I dig into your emotional turmoil?” She teased, shoving his chest lightly.

“See that’s what I said! And then I ate half the bag! Trust me, they grow on you. Maybe that’s the whole trick.” James shook his head, “Yeah, no, I can’t tell my uncle jack shit. He’d just think it was even funnier that they were disgusting anyway.” James tied the bag up and threw it in the nearest trash can. “Yes. Absolutely.”

Chelsea had to cover her mouth to hide her snort at the idea. “You ate half a bag?!” She asked incredulously, shaking her head as she followed him to the trashcan, brimming with laughter. “I would probably be inclined to agree with your uncle.” She teased before turning on her heel and heading towards the candy shop. “Now the true question, is what will you get to rid your mouth of that awful taste?”

“Yeah. Like I could tell she didn’t like some of the people I dated, but come on. He’s a pure-blood and literally checks every single box. She hasn’t come out and said it, but I know it has to be the age gap. Which isn’t even that bad.” Dylan looked up at her and smiled, giving a slight shake of his head. “Nah. I don’t even think it’s worth it at this point, babe. If she’s not okay with him as my fiance, I don’t think she’ll be okay with him as my husband. I’m not forcing her to come and making me miserable on my wedding.” Dylan snorted as she continued,“Well, at least you recognize it. Peasant,” he added with a smirk. “Mm. It’ll be fun. I mean, Marcie’s coming. You know it won’t be boring.”

Chelsea sighed, shaking her head as she wrapped her arms around him. “Cool with it or not, I’m sorry Dylan. Moms can be the absolute worst. But you’re right, she shouldn’t be there to ruin it. You’re going to have an absolutely beautiful wedding with a kick ass cake.” She stepped back, rolling her eyes with the tiniest of smiles. “You’re lucky I love you. If you ever call me a peasant again I’ll have you going down the aisle in a wheelchair.” She laughed, nodding her head. “I’m more worried you won’t be getting that grown up, sophisticated bachelors you’re speaking of with the group of us going.”

He laughed, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Again. I had a pretty good idea that you didn’t like it. But, like I said, it’s not gentlemanly to just assume.” Phoenix gave her an amused look as they were led to their table, not resuming their conversation until after he’d pulled out her chair for her. “I was rebellious in other ways towards my father. Driving a car like a muggle was not one of those things. Literally metal death traps.” He smirked and sat across from her, picking up the menu. “So, you closed the shop. How have you been since?”

“Ah, and you’re nothing if not a gentleman.” Chelsea was only half teasing as she said it, grinning at him as he pulled her chair. She sat down gingerly, a sly look on her face as she leaned forward. “And what, exactly, did a rebellious phase look like for you?” She picked up her menu to hide her sigh at the mention of her business, her eyes tracking through it. “I’m fine. Relaxed, albeit slightly bored and lonely. But I suppose it’s better than incredibly stressed. I just have no idea what to do with all my free time now.

James laughed, “They aren’t that bad!” He ate another one, “No, ok they are bad but,” He finally set the bag down. “The first few tasted good, I swear. This is what I get for supporting my family.”

She snorted as she pulled another out of the bag, spitting it out as soon as it went into her mouth. “Yeah, thought I’d give it one more shot so I could pretend I believed they were ever good but it’s a no-go. Tell your family member you love them but aren’t looking forward to being poisoned anytime soon.” She teased, leaning back some. “I am now in the mood for good candy though, if you wanna come.”

“Okay. I’ll give it thirty minutes.” He smirked, taking her hands because he knew what her response would be. “Well. I thought I’d ask regardless. Not very polite to assume.” Phoenix gave her a few seconds warning before apparating them outside the restaurant. “But, darling, when did I ever say I knew how to drive?” He took her hand to lead her to the door, giving her a teasing look. “Don’t insult me.”

Chelsea couldn’t help the goofy grin that spread over her face. She locked her fingers with his, rolling her eyes. “I think you can safely assume I’d never prefer to do things the muggle way. For future reference, of course.” She scrunched up her face as they apparated. She may prefer it to other methods, but she’d never quite gotten over the feeling. “I don’t know what you know!” She jokingly scoffed and placed a hand on her chest as she followed him into the building. “Maybe it’s some knowledge you needed for work. Or you learned in a rebellious phase. I might’ve learned to piss off my dad but it just seemed like a hell of a lot of work to upset the man who controls my inheritance.”

“I know it’s not.” Jackson noticed the change in demeanor and smirked, but didn’t comment. He instead nodded at what she said, gesturing towards the door leading out. “I mean, I’m used to it because of quidditch, but yeah. It is stuffy. You can give me a tour of the inside.”

Chelsea frowned, wrinkling her nose. “I forgot how sweaty quidditch used to make me. I can’t for the life of me believe I played for most of school.” She lead him up the small hill to her house and slid in, holding the back door open. “It’s not totally completed, so don’t judge it just yet. The downstairs is almost done though, it’s really just the bedrooms I’ve got to work on.” She perked up as she took a look at the kitchen they’d entered. “This rooms my favorite though.”

“He’s still technically on his paternity leave, so come over whenever. I want to see him get cake ambushed,”  Dylan teased. At the mention of her father, Dylan looked at her, knowing when to back off about him, even if he worried about her. “I get it. I mean, if it makes you feel any better, my mum’s probably pissed at me and I’m not even sure if she’s coming to the wedding. She doesn’t approve because he’s older with a kid. I mean, her son’s in a healthy relationship with a man who’s settled, stable, and a freaking doctor, but go off, I guess.” Dylan snorted at her expression, shaking his head. “Chels. Have you seen who I’m marrying? I promise I’m getting my dream wedding,” he teased. “Besides, I was kidding. I told my brother he’s going as my best man and not overprotective bodyguard.” Dylan shrugged, “But honestly, I’m really not feeling too much of a party, though?” He pouted, “Maybe I grew up.”

Chelsea nodded, pulling out her phone to make a note for the now planned cake ambush. She put it away with a frown though as he continued and shook her head. “That’s insane. I think my dad wouldn’t come if I married someone who wasn’t pure blood, but he’d support just about anything else. He just wants me married before I’m thirty honestly. Older, female, kids, whatever it takes. She should suck it up though, do you want me to fight her about it?” She rolled her eyes, but a smirk planted it’s way on her face. “Yeah, yeah. I know, Dylan Parkinson made out with the hot, rich, doctor man and we’re all lowly peasants getting to witness it.” She sighed at the thought and nodded, dropping her head into her hands. “Good for you. One of us needed to, and I don’t think it’s me. But Paris will be nice. I mean, the food alone will lead to that being a fantastic trip.”

“Okay. I’ll take a break but don’t expect me to stop all night.” Phoenix looked over at her with a smirk, nodding as he reached out to take her hands. “We can apparate there then.” He tilted his head, teasingly. “Unless you’d rather take muggle transportation then I guess I could suffer for you.”

“Of course not. All night is a long time, I couldn’t possibly last that long without a compliment here or there.” Chelsea teased, curling her hands into his touch. She wrinkled her nose and looked up at him with confusion. “Why on earth would I want that? I didn’t even know you knew how to drive. I refused to learn.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He looked around the greenhouse for a moment, nodding as she spoke, before turning to look at her. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.” Jackson walked over to her and slid his arm around her. “You seem happy and like you’re finally doing something you really want to do.”

Chelsea leaned into him and nodded, though her smile dropped. “Thanks Jackson… that’s not something I hear very often.” She forced out a breath before planting a smile back on her face and looking up at him. “It may not make me any money, but you’re right, it does make me happy. However it’s hot in here and the plants are okay, so tell me you want to go back to the house before I melt.”

“Just come over one day. We’ll trap him with cake options. That’s literally the only way we’ll get him.” Dylan tilted his head to look at her. “And yes. I have seen you whenever someone mentions shots because I’m usually there and have the headache the next day to prove it.” He smirked and sat his coffee down. “But no offense, baby, your dad’s a little…. much.” Dylan finished, for want of a better word. “I’m not really sure he’s the best judge of character. Speaking of that and wedding stuff, though, we’re going to Paris for a weekend instead of a party. But my brother’s coming and I’m still on lockdown. So. Yay me.”

“I am absolutely fine cake ambushing him. I can come over next week, just let me know when the best time is.” She smirked at his assessment and shrugged. “My egg donor may have raised me a proper lady who shouldn’t get drunk, but she sucks, and my father gifted me his strong tolerance of alcohol.” Chelsea’s smile tightened and she gave a single nod. She knew most people weren’t a fan of her father, but she knew he was a good person. “He’s him, and unless it’s been about potential marriage candidates he’s never done me wrong.” Her tone suggested finality and she jumped on the change back to the wedding. She winced at his mention of his brother. “I get it, but isn’t a party customary? I thought this was supposed to be a whole crazy hurrah, the death of a bachelor, kind of thing? I mean, I love Paris and I’m totally into it! I just want you to have your like, dream wedding.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” Phoenix looked over at her with a smile, holding out his arm for her to take when she nodded towards the door. “You shouldn’t be comparing yourself to anyone ever, Chels. You always look beautiful.” He smirked, before leading her to the door. “So, I was thinking Italian? Unless you have another idea, then it’s lady’s choice.”

Chelsea hummed her agreement, looping her arm through his and walking to the exit. “Phoenix Zabini, if you keep flattering me like this I’ll become conceited.” She teased, though the blush stayed on her cheeks. She pretended to consider the idea before nodding. “I love Italian. I’m truly not picky unless seafood is involved.”

“Eh. Debatable,” he teased, following her towards the greenhouse. “On the impulsive part, at least.” Jackson followed her gaze and snorted. “Damn. You really did go all out. Or whoever you paid to do this for you,” he gave her a fond look, before looking at the plants. “You could probably take Professor Longbottom’s job eventually at this rate.”

“Debatable if you’re boring.” Chelsea snorted entering and grabbing her wand from her boot. “I mean, it had to be pretty. You should see the house over there. I’ve had interior decorators over all week. Figured I’ve got time, I bought the place, might as well make it finally nice. I’d been living next to the bakery before but that apartment was so small. It’s an extra closet now.” She beamed at his comment, nodding her head sharply as she watered a plant next to her. “If I had the patience for children I’d easily slide into his place. I just remember helping with everyone else’s herbology projects in school and hating trying to teach others.”

He snorted. “Wild? By who and what standard?” Dylan gave her a teasing look, before shaking his head. “I mean, I am marrying a dad-aged man, so I kinda have to act like a functioning member of society to be on his level,” he smirked. “But probably. Or I can grab him one day and we can come over. Especially now that we have a venue and everything else is somewhat done.” He paused. “Well. I’m guessing it’s somewhat done. Because I’m pretty sure Marcie threatened bodily harm to our wedding planner.” Dylan got up and moved over so he was sitting beside her. “How have things been since you closed the shop, though?”

A grin split Chelsea’s face and she shrugged. “Mostly my father, and those of similar social circles. I mean, compared to all the house wives and socialites I suppose I am. Queer, a business owner, and have you seen me whenever someone mentions shots?” She nodded, chuckling at the image. “Sounds like Marcie, and yes! Bring him and we’ll figure it out. Sooner the better so I can get the design done with time for trial runs.”