Jaycee Longbottom

Aurors were known for minding their own business around one another, but that didn’t authenticate their complete disinterest in and apathy towards each others’ lives. They did reveal an excoriating tendency to curiously, slowly, and cautiously peel the skin of privacy off a fellow associate from time to time. They had a twisted way of analyzing your soul and your lifestyle and the possible reasons behind your complications. Though slow to judge, they were quick to suspect, and when they finally did judge, they judged hard. The mere thought of this bleached color out of Albus’s face.

Maintaining zero eye contact, Albus saw Jaycee make air quotations through the blurry ends of his peripheral vision and listened to her scold on, not really registering much of her words because of his preoccupation with the odd and overwhelming realization that they were seriously fighting when not a while ago they were adjoined in an embrace. He remained distracted in that manner which edged on a growingly stoic demeanor, up until the brunette’s unmistakable insinuations suddenly made him comprehend, with a tightening of chest, what this whole thing was legitimately about.

Albus closed his eyes for a couple of seconds before opening them to stare blankly at her as she narrated the comparison and stated the actual suggestion that Heather was flirting with him. He was suddenly feeling as if his tongue had been cut off and he swallowed, not sure how to act at this dramatically pivoting point. Now that Jaycee had mentioned it, he started replaying the entire picture in his head, unwinding it and tracking frame number marking after another until he reached the scary conclusion that yes, perhaps she did have every right to be angry.

He was in neither the physical nor the mental condition to further argue with adeptness. He felt depleted, touchy, and rather temperamental. And in addition, he was already beginning to get over his so-called pride and become convinced that he was the faulty one here. So the young Potter was about to grovel, to let his defense melt down and attempt absorbing his girlfriend’s fury by smoothly telling her that they could have this conversation later at home that day, in private and when they’d both calmed down. One question held him back, however.

Why did it matter to Jaycee, anyway? Even if Heather was interested in him, why did it anger her? It wasn’t like he’d shown any signs of disloyalty himself, had he? So why was she so worried?

A quick shot of  electricity burned Jaycee's lungs when Albus asked his question. She wasn't sure how to describe it, but the same feeling overwhelmed her whenever something jumped out at her, or when someone yelled at her, or even when she saw Albus arriving home through the window, or when her favorite song came on the radio. She looked around, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone watching. What would make him say that? Jaycee did trust Albus. She just didn't trust Heather Shaw. Then again, would this whole thing really bother her that much if she didn't have any doubts? She didn't doubt that Albus loved her, but she did doubt that he didn't love her enough sometimes. It wasn't because her lover didn't bring her chocolates home everyday or compliment her every five minutes. It wasn't that he never told her how much he loved her every now and then. It wasn't any of that. Albus was nothing but great to her, and he always reminded Jaycee how much he cared for and loved her. He was the perfect boyfriend, or at least perfect to Jaycee. That's what confused Jaycee so. If Albus hadn't given her any reason to doubt his love for her, then why did she feel this way?

Though, she had an idea as to why. It was her own ridiculous insecurities. How could he love someone who would get moody out of no where with no reason? How could he love someone who got so easily jealous? How could he love someone who had a tendency to whine and complain so much? How could he love someone who leaves her clothes all over the house, or who burns his toast so often, or who once called him at work, screaming to come home because of an "emergency" when she spotted a spider in the kitchen? That's what scared her. That he would find someone better. So, naturally, when Miss Heather brought in a much better lunch than hers, something snapped in Jaycee Longbottom. 

This all brought Jaycee back to Albus's question. Did she trust him? 

She sucked in a deep breath and then let it out slowly as she looked at the middle Potter, purposely trying not to look in his eyes that were most likely blazing green with intensity. 

Neville Longbottom stepped forward as Jaycee scooted over to make room for him. "Hello, Albus," Neville greeted the boy, unconsciously wringing his hands. Jaycee cringed at the awkwardness of the encounter. "Tell your father I send my regards as well," he continued, "And that he still owes me from our bet." 

Jaycee turned to her father. "What bet?" she asked. Neville looked back and forth from Jaycee to Albus. "Don't worry about it," he replied. "What brings you here, Albus?"

Albus removed his hands from his pockets and rested his palms on her back, hugging the Hufflepuff back longingly and sighing to himself.

At long last.

None of those questions actually needed be answered, however, for all that mattered was one piece of data: the former Hufflepuff, as her glare indubitably testified, wasn’t happy. And it made Albus feel petrified, both on the inside and out—especially because all he’d ever known of those eyes were warmth and affection.  

Looking back into her eyes, and trying his best neither to blink nor to linger much on how attractive her thick eyelashes were, he made a pathetic attempt to absorb her anger through his endearing, pleading, twinkly and bright green puppy dog eyes. They had worked on people before, so he didn’t see why he shouldn’t give them a chance now. Evident by her icy tone of voice, however, they were clearly and miserably failing, and the young Potter was honestly starting to lose track of what they were even arguing over. Veiled remarks, vague terse annotations, and repressed feelings had all tangled up and become a richly interwoven network of conflict stimulants dense enough to obscure logic.

Briefly getting distracted by Heather’s call, Albus glanced at the cubicle for a moment then quickly looked back at Jaycee just in time to see her terminate her rolling of eyes. He furrowed his eyebrows and blinked, as though he was just now finally discovering that his co-worker’s remark about her sandwich was what had irritated his girlfriend in the first place.

“Oh. Oh, so that’s what this is all about, is it?” he responded after a few small nods.

“You couldn’t digest some innocent harmless criticism.”

"Are you kidding me?!" She practically shrieked. However, the petite brunette immediately lowered her volume, scanning the area for any sign of Harry. The last thing she wanted was for her possible father-in-law to witness a fight between she and Albus. "You think that was 'harmless criticism'?" Jaycee scoffed at her boyfriend's understatement, creating air quotes with her fingers. "She might as well just hang a banner in your cubicle that reads, 'Love me, Albus! I'm better and prettier than your current girlfriend and her bland sandwiches'." The thought of Heather Shaw wrapping Albus around her dainty fingers with her Blood Red manicure made Jaycee sick to her stomach. "You know, for a smart boy, you can be very stupid." At this point, Jaycee didn't really care to censor her feelings. She just wanted to hurt Albus as much as she was hurting. She also wanted to march into the cubicle, drag Ms. Shaw out by her feet, and toss Albus's luxurious feast out of the window.

“Wha—“ Albus sputtered as Jaycee dragged him out of Heather’s sight. He was flustered and quite shocked at that sudden change in character, his imagination certainly having not stretched to such an extent of expectations. And his splintered arm didn’t welcome the gesture, either.

Ow Nooooooo please not there. They tie two-way mirrors there and say they won’t break but they always doooooo.

But that wasn’t what now caused him to feel like a thousand tiny pins had poked him all over at the same time. Jaycee’s words and her tone were. It didn’t hurt, hardly, but it definitely made his skin prickle. He’d never witnessed such a reaction from her before. He’d never seen Jaycee, not her, unjokingly display anger at him.

“Whoah. Easy. What are you even talking about?” Before he could swallow his words, Albus found himself hissing back, though not as heatedly.

Great. Very genuine-looking. And calming. And didn’t even involve eye-contact. Perfect. Because this is exactly the right thing to say when someone appears angry. “I’m not aware of anything that deserves your indignation.”

It had been pointed out to him before. By his mother. That the only thing that could get a girl more upset with a guy who’d done something wrong was denial, oblivion, not realizing the mistake. But then again, he hadn’t really done anything, had he? There was no reason for Jaycee’s …. Well, this. Whatever the hokey pokey it was.

“H-Hold on a minute …,” he added after a wee moment, one specific word of his girlfriend’s reaching well beyond his ears a bit late yet especially sparking his attention. “What do you mean, ‘actually insane’? What do you mean by ‘actually’? Is that some substitute for ‘after all’ that I’m supposed not to notice?”

Suddenly, the embarrassment she felt about overreacting mixed with her newly found reason to be mad at Albus. How? How could he try to accuse me of insulting him while he stood there and let Heather insult me?! She couldn't lose it there, however. Not right outside of Albus's cubicle. Not where, a few feet away, Heather Shaw stood waiting for her beloved coworker to return.

Jaycee stared coldly into her boyfriend's eyes, glaring at him from beneath her dark eyelashes. Her voice, no longer a whisper, yet still quiet, was equally chilling when she spoke. "If you took what I said about you being 'insane' literally, then yes, Albus, you are completely mental." She knew this was going too far, that this argument was becoming way out of hand, but it was too late to kiss and make up -- for Jaycee's stubbornness, at least. 

"Albus, your food is getting cooooooolllllld!" Heather Shaw sing-songed from inside the cubicle.

Albus, who’s been nonchalantly superintending from a figurative distance, suddenly sensed his involvement and wired his alertness in. His girlfriend and his colleague appeared to generally have taste for one another, though at one point he’d had a hunch something was a bit ..hostile? artificial? about the atmosphere. He wasn’t confident at all in his intuitive aptitude, however, so he’d prompted that feeling to die out as soon as it’d appeared and had resumed merrily watching the little chat, continuing to believe he’d contributed to the initiation of something nice. 

"Which brings me straight to the point," Heather abruptly cobbled up and linked together the railway of her spirited and shrill string of speech on which her somewhat chaotic train of thought operated. She looked back at Albus, her eye-pupils shifting in half a second to his background and back again. "I hope you’re not expecting me to leave you with nothing to eat all day but some bland petty sandwich." Albus wanted to interject and assure her that Jaycee’s ham sandwich had been more than gratifying, but what happened next lead all thought astray. With two animated claps, she stood erect and, smiling haughtily and in self-pride, watched as three house-elves dressed in fresh, tidy liveries scurried toward the cubicle. 

It took the former Slytherin a dumb moment to understand what was going on, but then it hit him and he immediately pursed his lips, closing his eyes and letting out a quiet brief sigh. Each of the elves was carrying a plateful of food and apparently handled a separate course because after the first one used his free hand to swiftly gather the papers on the desk up into one neat heap, nudged it aside, and set down his plate of appetizers, the second elf laid down the chips-and-steak plate and took a step back to give his comrade room for settling down the hot cinnamon roll, over which frosting rippled down and melted. 

"Heather, I told you time and time again, there is no need fo—"

"Ever not listening," the blonde interrupted in a sing-songy manner and dismissed the elves before glancing at Jaycee. "I took my lunch-break, like a normal person, and paid the restaurant across the street a quick visit,” she explained, a bit boastfully. “Otherwise he stays pinned to his chair and nibbles on imaginary food until the place is empty and they beg him to go home.”

Not caring that Albus's co-worker was still talking, Jaycee turned to Albus and opened her mouth to utter his name, when Heather decided to change the subject, even speaking a little louder. Bland petty sandwich?! Again, Jaycee's lips parted to defend herself, but why bother? What wasn't Albus, her boyfriend, speaking up? Did he think her sandwich was bland and petty, too? Just a moment after Heather Shaw clapped her hands together, the pungent smell of seasoned meat and cinnamon filled the cubicle. Cinnamon roll. Why didn't I think of that?!

Jaycee's efforts to provide Albus with lunch suddenly seemed officious and silly compared to the feast Heather brought in for him. She didn't know whether to cry or shout at the innocent house elves making their way out of the cubicle. It was her job to take care of Albus Potter and make sure he was happy and full and satisfied, so why was random Heather taking that responsibility into her own hands? Jaycee wanted nothing more than to go home and mope, but she wasn't going to leave knowing that Heather was hanging around. What next? Was she going to give Albus a massage, too? Or perhaps she'd send him off to a spa.

Seeing as it'd be unfair to take her anger out on the house elves, and not wanting to get into it with Ms. Shaw, Jaycee decided to blame Albus for everything. Why would he allow his pretty little friend to insult her sandwich?!

“Right, Longbottom! That’s why! I thought you resembled somebody I’ve seen before,” Heather responded, her smile never leaving her face. She thought it best not to reveal that she did indeed know the brunette’s countenance from the previous times she’d paid the place a visit. After all, she didn’t want to give her the impression that that was of any importance to her. People came and people went, didn’t mean they were all of much significance. So she instead chose to rely on the popularity of that girl’s name for the desirable effect. “Aw, that’s nice,” she continued, using a slightly higher tone to express her awe. “Visitors from outside the ministry come round here, like, all the time. But you know what they say, a constant guest is never welcome,” she let out a brief, suppressed giggle, punching Jaycee gently in the arm.

Albus chuckled softly to himself, finding Heather’s humor amusing and admiring her effort to make his girlfriend feel carefree and at ease. It was a habit of hers, using quips to drag a stranger into the circle and make him or her feel like they’ve been there for a long time and that it’s okay for them to start throwing casual friendly mockeries too. Or so Albus was convinced were her intentions.

“Heather works at the Portkey Office,” he turned to Jaycee and added, holding his left wrist behind his back.

Jaycee turned to her boyfriend when he spoke, then looked back at Heather. "Wow, that's interesting," she commented, though she really couldn't care less. She hoped Albus didn't notice her voice rise a few octaves, just as Heather's had earlier. Ms. Shaw's job description didn't answer the question that had been on Jaycee's mind since she laid eyes on the girl: why was she there in Albus's cubicle? 

Why is she still here? Can't she see Albus and I were in the middle of something? She has the entire day to tickle him. Though, I'd prefer she didn't.

Dumbfounded, he watched the Hufflepuff employ her wand skills, but when a splash of water erupted at her feet, he instantly flinched, springing out of his acute stupor.

Albus could almost imagine the electrical fuses return to his impulse-conducting nerves as he saw Jaycee strike Griffith with the confundus charm. Despite the irrational need he felt to pant for his best friend, he closed the mouth he hadn’t realized was hanging slightly agape. And by the time Griffith finally calmed down, he’d already gained back most of his collectedness and fortitude of mind.

“Uh … No, no. No, that was brilliant,” the Slytherin muttered distractedly, preoccupied by his amazement at Jaycee’s finesse and by his growing relief that the degree of risk did decline after all. The charm bought them some really valuable time. “Thank you, Jayce. That was excellent.” He smiled encouragingly at her approaching figure and his eyes grinned. He had to admit, something about the way she’d shouted the spell’s incantation and transferred her power to her wand allured him much as her tenderness had done earlier. And that was only one spell and it wasn’t even the first time he’d seen her put her wand to use. If anything, her wand’s structure was as familiar to him as his own. But in spite of that, it was still an attractive sight, and he wondered what he’d do if he ever watched her brew a potion from beginning to end. It’d probably hold him captive. And possibly kill him.

Captive. That’s it!

Hopping back on track and bursting with adrenaline, the Slytherin knew exactly what he was going to do next. His mission consisted of one simple part: applying the rest of the salve to Griffith’s wound. In order to do so, however, he had to preserve every drop of the quantity in his hand and handle it with utmost care. And only a couple of tricks could do the job, if only he’d been quicker at using his head.

I am one daft tosser.

Albus got out his wand and swiftly placed a solidifying charm on the ointment in his left hand, turning it into a solid cube whose texture oddly reminded him of dry glue. It’d be easier to carry it around in this state than if it was in its original semi-liquid one. Then, he moved his left foot forward, glided his right to the back, twisted his body to accommodate his new footing while extending his left arm forward at a defensive angle, and slowly raised his right arm over his head, keeping his elbow fairly slack to amplify nimbleness but maintaining a firm rigid grip upon the wand he pointed at the befuddled griffin. Just as his namesake had unwillingly instructed.

You won’t be harmed, I promise.

“Incarcerous!”

Albus suddenly flicked his wrist, flung his wand in one circular movement, and, relying on his bicep to provide all the force with which he threw his arm forward, picked up his right foot to stamp it down before its twin. Instantaneously, sprouting elastic rope shot from the wand’s tip and curled around Griffith’s tail, wings, talons, and hind legs, limiting their motion and pinning the creature to the wall behind. Not only was such a choice of rope strong enough to withstand the mighty creature’s expected struggles, but its elasticity also reduced the chance that it would injure his limbs, unlike regular rope or iron chains—options that had been briefly considered.

Not wasting another second, fully aware that Jaycee’s spell had already started wearing off, Albus ignored Griffith’s heightening screeches and lunged in his direction. He trusted his best friend will stay back and focused his full attention on turning the cube back to its original state before hurriedly attempting to secure his wand back where it usually rested. He was intent upon acting fast before what remained of the salve spilled again, but in such haste, he lost mastery and couldn’t even get the wand to go through his belt hoop. So he let it drop on the floor and began applying the ointment to the griffin’s wound in one single big scoop.

“Ow. Ow ow ow. Gee, almost done. Almost done!” He struggled to keep rubbing the infected area with wide circular strokes as Griffith used his beak to grab hold of his hair and tug repeatedly, trying to stop him. Before long, however, and before the Slytherin’s skull could break in half by the griffin’s upcoming plan to pierce it, the tugs grew slower and milder and the boils started to disappear as the medicine rapidly took effect.

Oh Merlin, thank you.

Albus let out an audible sigh of relief and smiled a little to himself, continuing to rub Griffith’s chin and noticing palpable reduction in his efforts to fight him away.

“Alright. It’s safe to come closer. But remain calm,” he quietly addressed Jaycee then knelt down briefly to pick up his wand with his free hand. He pointed it at the abating creature and released him from his robes. For one short-lived instant, when he grunted and shuffled around, Albus had a mini heart-attack, thinking he was going to attack. He soon realized that the griffin was only settling down into a more comfortable position, however, and immediately relaxed.

The Hufflepuff held her breath as she watched Albus continue to apply the potion onto Griffith's skin. The creature couldn't do any more harm than had already been done, especially since he was tied up, but Jaycee couldn't help thinking of what would happen if he broke free of his restraints. It'd be the same, terrifying episode that occurred just minutes earlier, but worse. She and Albus probably wouldn't be so lucky the second time around. She was thankful, however, that the only aggression Griffith was showing towards her friend was the constant tugging on his dark brown hair. Jaycee covered her mouth with her hand, wishing the smirk on her face away. Though she felt bad, the sight in front of her was rather comical. She opened her mouth to tell Griffith to stop, but she couldn't say anything without risking a laugh escaping her body. The creature eased up after a moment, anyway. Could this mean the potion worked?

When Albus granted Jaycee the permission to come closer, it took everything in the girl not to run over. She managed to walk over slowly, though. Her eyes didn't leave the spot on Griffith's neck as she drew nearer and nearer, and when she was close enough to see that the harsh looking rash had nearly disappeared, a wave of relief washed over her. She stepped back as Albus released the ropes holding the creature, then smiled widely. "He looks like new!" Jaycee exclaimed, looking back and forth from the creature to her friend. "Albus, you're a genius!"

Jaycee wrapped her arms around Griffith. A little sound like a growl escaped the griffin's throat as he tensed under the girl's touch. Jaycee ignored it. She was just happy that she wouldn't have to return Griffith with a big, ugly blemish on his neck. When she released the griffin, she turned to Albus. Suddenly, she felt very shy. She locked her hands together behind her back, then let go and let her arms hang by her sides. "Thank you so much, Albus," she said after a moment. "I really don't know what I'd do without you." She let the truth of those words hang in the air between them, then looked back at Griffith. It was over, and now Jaycee didn't know where she and Albus stood. The last thing she wanted to do was go back to avoiding each other in the halls, but what if that's what he wanted?