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1.       I am so fucked.

2.       I wish I could apparate without splinching myself.

3.       Why did I wear these shoes?

4.       Mum would be so proud.

These are the four things running through my head as I barrelled my way down Princes Street on the 2nd of November, 2027.


My red heels clacked against the concrete as I wound my way through people, trying not to get pushed over by some random drunk at eight thirty-seven on a Sunday morning.


Why I even have to work on Sundays is quite beyond me.


Oh yeah, I have an asshole of a boss, that’s why.


I hitched my bag further up on my shoulder and pulled my jacket back around my front. Bloody Scotland, it’s so cold. Adjusting the stack of papers that had somehow managed to rearrange themselves on the walk here, even though I have not put them down once, I brushed a lock of black hair over my shoulder.


You’re probably wondering what is causing this rather random assortment of thoughts to be whizzing around my mind at a moment like this. Allow me to explain:


1.       I am totally fucked because I am now seven minutes late for work and my boss is going to KILL me.

2.       I wish I could apparate, so that I wouldn’t be late for work. Unfortunately, apparition is one of many things I have not mastered over the years.

3.       I hate these shoes. I cannot walk in heels. The one problem is, that if I don’t wear heels, I am a good foot shorter than my dearest boss, and I don’t like feeling like a minority because I am ever so slightly on the short side.

4.       My mother would be proud because a) I have a job only one year after leaving Hogwarts, b) I am currently wearing said heels and c) she disapproves of apparition.


So there you have it. My life summed up in four bullet points. Impressive, isn’t it?




Okay, seriously? I blinked, closing my eyes for less than a second, and suddenly I am sprawled on the floor with papers everywhere and having landed on something very soft.



I opened my eyes to find myself looking directly into the face of someone I haven’t seen in a very long time.


Holy crap.


The year above me at school, the older brother of my boss, and an international Quidditch star.


James Sirius Potter.


“It’s fine, fine….” I mumbled as I scrambled off him and we started to collect the flying bits of paper. People didn’t even stop to help, just walked around us, leaving muddy footprints on my notes and spreading them even further. I started to mutter obscenities under my breath. “It’s okay, I can get them.” I said to James.


“No, no… It’s my fault. Wasn’t looking where I was going.” He replied as he snatched a sheaf of parchment out from under a woman’s foot.


He glanced at me. “Do I… Know you from somewhere?” he asked, staring at my face.


He has never spoken to me in his life before.


“I was the year below you at school.” I replied, not looking at him as I started piling the bits together.


“Are you sure? I went to quite a small school.” He said unsurely, pulling his pages of notes together.


He thinks I’m a Muggle.


I surreptitiously flicked my wand and all the papers flew to me, in the right order. I smirked at James. “I’m sure.”


“Ah.” He nodded. “You knew Albus?”


We both stood up. “I work for Albus.” I gave him a look.


He raised his eyebrows. “You’re Asiya.” It wasn’t a question.


I smirked. So he talks about me, eh? “I am indeed.”


He handed me my bag, complete with a lovely muddy splatter up the black suede.


“I’ve heard a lot about you.” He winked and grinned. I glared.


“I can imagine.” I growled, hoisting my bag over my shoulder and shuffling the papers in my arm. “Anyway, I really have to go, I’m…” I glanced at my watch. “Shit. Eleven and a half minutes late. He’s going to kill me.”


I scuttled past James, inwardly cursing myself.


I had only walked a few paces when someone grabbed hold of my wrist.


“Come here.” James dragged me into a dark alleyway. Oh crap, I’m about to be raped by an international Quidditch sensation. Fuck, what do I do?


Should I scream?


No, I sound like a beached whale when I scream. I wish I had a Taser. Tasers are cool.


After much inner debate, I settle for: “What the hell are you doing?”


“Saving your ass.” He mumbled, before turning on the spot and we were both sucked into a moment of blackness before popping out just inside the front doors of my workplace.


I drew breathe quickly and shut my eyes to try and get the stars to disappear. They just floated in my vision a bit more. This is why I don’t apparate. Well, also because I never passed my test, but STILL.


“You’re welcome.” James’ voice sounded from beside me.


“Why are you helping me?” I asked, without opening my eyes.


“Felt bad for knocking your papers everywhere.” He muttered. “I should go before my brother finds and kills me. See ya around.”


I opened my eyes and smiled at him. “Thanks. Bye.” But he was already gone. I glanced at the clock on the wall and swore under my breath.


WHYOHWHYOHWHYOHWHYOHWHY aren’t there any lifts here?




“Are you quite sure you’re alright, Asiya? You sound quiet.”


I sighed and ran my fingers through my black hair again. “Yes, Mum. I’m fine.”


“I don’t think you are. Are you sleeping properly?”


I swapped the phone to my other ear and typed something into the computer in front of me. “Yes, mum.”


“Are you eating? You haven’t lost weight again, have you?”


“No, Mum.”


“You know what happened last time you were under too much stress. I don’t want that to happen again.”


“Mum, I’m fine. It’s just this stupid job.” I swung my chair around and pinned something to the notice board behind me.


“Why don’t you just let me and your father give you the money for the Healer training?” Mum’s voice crackled down the line. I’m surprised she actually knows how to use a phone.


“No, Mum!” I insisted, tapping something else into my computer calendar. “I’m eighteen years old and I’m doing this by myself!”


I could just see my mother rolling her eyes at me. “Fine. I am not having this argument again.”


I glared as Albus came through into the reception. “I have to go, Mum. My boss seems to want something.”


“Call me back later!”


“Yes, Mum.” Not going to happen. I hung up the phone and stood up as Albus stood in front of my desk, rapping his fingers impatiently on the wooden surface.


“Don’t use the work phone for personal calls, Asiya.” He growled, raising a jet-black eyebrow at me. He hadn’t changed a bit since we left school at the same time five months ago. His hair was still raven black and as messy as ever, while his bright green eyes still sparked with a hate whenever he saw me. He only hired me so he could watch me squirm at this God awful job.


“Yes, Mr Potter.” I growled. He made me call him ‘Mr Potter’ from day one. He knows I hate it.



“I need you to send a letter to the Ministry telling them that I won’t be attending that meeting on Friday. And can you reschedule my appointment with Harriet Jones on Tuesday?” He said quickly as he took his mail off the top of the desk. “And call Mr Malfoy. I need him to come in on Saturday instead of me. Tell him I’ll take his place on Thursday.”


“Yes, Mr Potter.” I said as I sat down and started writing to the Ministry. “Any particular reason?”


“Not that the business is yours, but tell Scorpius I’m at a family do over the weekend.” He said, not looking at me as he sorted the mail.


“Of course.” I continued writing, making a mental note to call Harriet and Scorpius.


“I’m meeting Chloe for lunch. I’ll be back around five.” I glanced at the clock. It does not take four hours to have lunch. I smirked as I imagined what’s really in Albus’ head for his afternoon with Chloe Finnegan.


“Yes, sir.” I didn’t look at him. I won’t be here at five anyway.


He turned away, reaching the door before he turned back. “Oh, and I need you to stay until around twelve tonight. Some very important work has come up.” I glared at him.


“Why can’t we do it now, instead of you dashing off to spend “quality time” with your girlfriend?” I said through gritted teeth.


He shot me one last look before sweeping his jacket on and disappearing.


I threw my quill down and rested my forehead on my palms. I would quit this job today, but I needed to money to pay my way through Healer training. I glared around at the office. It was small, with just four rooms. A reception, where I sat and worked my arse off daily, two private offices with ‘Albus Potter’ and ‘Scorpius Malfoy’ (two of the most unfortunate names in the world, I might add) written on in gold lettering, and a bathroom. The walls were cream, the floor a dark wood, and my desk to match. Two of the walls were glass, one of them being so that I could see right through to the offices and one looking out over the city of Edinburgh on my left. The building was tall, we were on the twenty-seventh floor (and no elevators!), and the rest of the offices for the company were downstairs. Scorpius and Al owned the whole thing, mostly thanks to their fathers, and the place was pretty successful. I glared out over London. It was raining today. And not the nice, torrential rain. The horrible drizzle that the whole of the United Kingdom is lucky enough to get every single day.


I finished the letter, had a heated argument with Harriet Jones, and left a voicemail with Scorpius. Albus wouldn’t be back for three and a half hours, so I wandered down to the floor below.


“Boo.” I said lamely as I jumped up and sat on Rose Weasley’s desk.


“Al gone out for lunch with Chloe?” the pretty ginger asked, not looking up from her computer screen.


“Yeah. Said he won’t be back until five.” I popped a grape from her desk in my mouth.


“Sounds like it’s going to be a fun afternoon.” Damien swung over from the cubicle opposite Rose’s.


“ARGH!” Rose squealed, hitting her head with her palms. “BAD IMAGES! BAD IMAGES!”


I laughed. Rose was a sweet girl. Mental, but sweet. She had long, wavy red hair and bright blue eyes. A smattering of freckles sprinkled across her face and she always seemed to be smiling. She also had the hugest crush on Scorpius Malfoy known to man. Quite funny, really. That’s probably why she’s working here anyway. Her parents could pay her way through Auror training at a snap of the fingers, but she’s the kind of stalkerish person who would take this job just to be closer to her Scorpius dearest. He, of course, hasn’t a clue who she is.


And Damien is that gay friend that everyone needs. You know, the one who you originally thought was straight, then realised he was gay but he wouldn’t admit it, but eventually he came out of the closet and became that homosexual best friend you had wanted ever since… well, forever. He has short brown hair, brown eyes, and the best fashion sense in the entire world. I love him to pieces. He was in our year at Hogwarts, in our house, and supported us at every bloody Quidditch game even though he disapproved greatly of the sport. (“My parents say that sports are bad for your teeth!”) His parents are dentists.


I laughed and fist-bumped Damien.


“I hate you guys.” Rose mumbled. Damien reached over and planted a kiss on her cheek.


“We love you too, Rosie.” He grinned at the same time as the phone on Rose’s desk rang. She checked the caller id and groaned, picking it up.


“What do you want? I’m working.” She said bluntly, then paused while whoever was on the other end of the line talked. “Al is out for lunch and Scorpius is… somewhere. I dunno.” She shrugged. “Asiya is here.” I furrowed my brow. Who is asking for me? “She’ll be right up.” Rose growled then slammed the phone down. “Fred’s upstairs. Says if you’re not there within ten seconds he’s telling Al you’re down here.”


“Crap.” I muttered before hopping off the desk and hurtling up two flights of stairs.


I glared at Fred Weasley as he swung in dizzying circles in my chair. MY SWINGY CHAIR. NOBODY SITS IN MY SWINGY CHAIR.


“Can I help you, Fred?” I sighed as I tapped my fingers on my desk. He kept spinning.


“The secretary shall address all clients by Mr or Mrs followed by their last name.” he recited. I narrowed my eyes.


“What can I do for you, Mr Weasley?” I growled. He grinned and spun around a couple more times before grinding to a halt. Fred Weasley is yet another member of the Potter/Weasley clan. The same age as James, and almost as good looking. But not as famous.


He put his elbows on the desk and put the tips of his fingers together like he was on The Apprentice or something. “I need a favour.”




“Aww come on!”




“At least listen to me!”





“You’re a bitch.”


“Life’s a bitch.”


“And then you die.”


“Get out of my chair.”


“Only if you listen to me!”




He grinned and span once more.


“I need you to pretend to be Al’s girlfriend for a day.”



This day just keeps getting better and better.



Hey guys! Alright, first off, I know it's not great, but it's my first so bear with me while I learn the ropes here! I have been reading on here for aaaaages but I only just plucked up the courage to actually submit something. It's gonna be a kind of comedy, drama, crazy story (a bit like my life) and I really hope you enjoy it. (by the way, I know the banner is crap, but my photoshop decided to have a hissy fit and not do anything I wanted it to).

Second of all, I guess I should introduce myself. Hi. I'm Coffee. Please don't laugh. Yes, that is actually my name. I decided from the get-go that I wasn't going to bother lying about my name, and seriously, if you accuse me of lying about it you will find out what it feels like to have my foot in your face. My mum is a crazy person and my dad isn't quite right in the general brain area, so they decided to call their child Coffee. Yay. Over the novel I will feed you little bits of information about myself, but I won't bore you with it all at once. If you want to know anything about me, just ask in a review and I will answer, depending on what the question is. I won't answer anything that's too personal.

Okay, so. The story. Asiya Patil is the daughter of Parvati Patil. You'll find out in later chapters what happened to her father and why she has her mother's name, but not yet. I know I haven't really got started on the plot yet, but don't worry! Good things come to those who wait! (Yes, I may or may not have stolen that from the old Heinz Ketchup advert)


Coffee xxxx

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