30 July, '94 — Pennyworth
Making a Delivery from a Greatest Admirer

The rooftops called to her, and Charley met them with longing eyes. There were plenty of them between the shop and her delivery address, an ideal route to take today. And with no other deliveries to make, it'd just be the thrill of skipping over rooftops and skipping past streetgoers unseen. If only it were that easy. The bouquet, if she could call it that, had an awful temper that would definitely not stomach the heights the way she could. And the urchin already had one scrape with the geranium's fangs today, enough to warn her off from any other ideas.

Adjusting her flat cap, Charley set off. She kept an eye on her surroundings, and the other on the bouquet. The flowers were getting fussier by the minute, she always felt like a babysitter trying to tend to them in the shop. Never minding what she wanted, the fanged geraniums would snap and bite at her even while being watered, and especially while being trimmed. Not that it bothered her, Missus Crouch taught her enough about magical plants to make these sorts manageable. It wasn't the flowers that bothered her, it was the customer.

Someone's admirer paid for the delivery, and in Charley's figuring that could only mean two things. It could be a wish for protection, and well worth it in this neighborhood. Deep in Pennyworth, there weren't so many rooftops for her to dream about running across. The streets twisted and turned, not so much as the slums, but enough to keep her guard up. Somehow, the urchin felt more cautious here than in amongst those down furthest on their luck. The sort of trouble Pennyworth held for an urchin like her didn't come from rooftops.

Not that her eyes didn't keep glancing at them, wondering why all the time.

That was the other reason she figured someone would order this bouquet. To wish on them the kind of mindless wrath the flowers would inflict on any who got too close. Charley wouldn't want that sort of admirer for herself, and she wasn't thrilled on the idea of bearing that message. The worst trouble might come from the one getting flowers, anyway.

Then again, if someone did try something with her here, she could just throw the flowers at them. She found an odd grin at that, thinking of what short work the fanged geraniums would make of some would-be attacker. Just the chance to watch it happen was enough to keep Charley going, making her steps lighter and her pace faster.

If she could just make it through the delivery without losing her tip, or her finger, that would be a win.

---

James Fletcher

---

  

---

Great-Gran might be dead, but Jimmy was still living in her old house. He was far too old (in his opinion) to be shipped off to the house for Inconvenient Children, and fortunately he had no other relatives or guardians to make him do so. Hestia was the closest thing he had to a guardian now – and, given most of the kids she knew she had also trained in thievery, she was hardly a role model.

So – Jimmy had decided he could take care of himself, and would carry on just as before. There was still a lot of stuff left from his great-grandmother, because she had always been sure something would come in useful later (and as far as Jimmy could see, she had not once been proven right). Slowly, he was rifling through her possessions (her letters alone would take a year), but he was also amusing himself by waiting for a knock at the door.

He grinned, shit-eating wide, to himself, when he heard someone pass by outside, and slow outside the door. This had to be the special flower delivery girl. He affected a casual pose, waited for the knock, and whisked the door open promptly. “Good day,” he drawled, in a fake put-on voice.

---

The following 1 user Likes James Fletcher's post:1 user Likes James Fletcher's post
   Charley Goode

---

The house might have been nice enough once, now the urchin was sure she could find a better place in the slums. Nobody here could be all that greatly admired, she scoffed. The geraniums hissed at her for it, so Charley buttoned her lip and kept her opinions to herself as she made her way to the front door. She kept a wary eye up on the roof, part of her still convinced that this was all just a setup.

She was supposed to bring a smile and cheer to every customer, that's what Mrs. Mann told her anyway. Charley thought flowers would bring the cheer, that's what they were meant to do after all. Or they might mean another thing besides cheer, but they'd look pretty while doing it. She wasn't the sort to get all gussied up in dresses with bows in her hair, not these days, so the flowers would have to do the work there. Sparing a glance down at the threatening bouquet in her hands, the urchin thought better of it and found a smile in her after all.

Her tip had better be worth all this fuss.

The door opened almost immediately after she knocked, which was a blessing. What was not a blessing was the grinning face behind it, turning Charley's own decidedly sour to find, of all people in the world, Jimmy Fletcher waiting for her.

"What are you do—oh!" Charley scoffed once more the second her mind put it together. The unease in her stomach exploded in fury, and a scowl took to her face at once. "I dunno who you think yer greatest admirer might be, but it en't me!"

Whether the fanged geraniums were hissing at her or Jimmy didn't matter to the urchin right now. For once, they were speaking her language and she couldn't have agreed more.

---

  

---

“So you do have a real job, after all,” Jimmy exclaimed, referencing the letter they had exchanged and affecting great surprise (as if he had only put in this order to prove her wrong).

“No, no, you have to say it,” he added, of the greatest admirer – fighting back stomach-creasing laughter, he outstretched a hand for the fanged geranium bouquet, waiting for her to admit it as she handed them over. “Because I really think you are. You came all this way, getting bitten by flowers, just for me,” Jimmy declared loudly, waxing poetic at the ‘situation’ as if he had not elaborately engineered it just for jokes. He hoped the neighbours heard, just to make Charley more embarrassed.

---

The following 1 user Likes James Fletcher's post:1 user Likes James Fletcher's post
   Charley Goode

---

Out of all the boys in Hogsmeade, Jimmy Fletcher was by far the worst. There was no contest at all, not even the stuffy Charles could hold a candle to Fletcher. Not after he'd nearly gotten her smashed into smithereens, and only a maniac like Fletcher could have done it by sending her plummeting from above. If she hadn't yanked him up with when he sent her skyrocketing, Charley was rather sure she wouldn't be standing here now.

Not that she wanted to be anywhere near here right now.

The urchin, who was doing far too good of a job being flower girl for her own comfort, thrust the pot out at him. She ignored the snarling flowers, determined that Fletcher was the source of their latest hissy fit. Or he would be if he'd just let her deliver them! "I toldja so," Charley insisted, scowling even deeper at the suggestion she was lying. "Ya went to all this trouble just to work that out?"

Wasn't he supposed to be the smarter one between them? Hogwarts kept him, after all, clearly they weren't putting their best wand forward with Jimmy Fletcher. Charley gave her head a shake, but what really made her grind her teeth was what Fletcher said next. Because of course, there was nothing he liked better than to make a bad situation worse. And at that, he was already the star student.

Once again, Charley had to be the flower girl, and it took everything she had. "From your..." she started, holding the hissing pot out to Fletcher. He had to take it this time, with her so willing to dance to his evil tune. It wouldn't take much, just a few words. Then she'd be through it and never again would she have to think of Jimmy Fletcher again. "...yer greatest..."

For once in her life, Charley was struggling to put on a performance.

"Fromyergreatestadmirer—" she said, pushing the pot into Fletcher's hands. They were his now, he had to deal with the viscous flowers. What a pair they made, evil flowers and an evil boy, and she hoped they'd be very happy together. Or that they'd make him pay for his prank with every bite, anyway. Taking a step back, Charley added firmly, "—who is not me!"

Now that she was free of her job and the flowers, the urchin stuck her tongue out all the way at him. She tried to add a proper sound to it, but her tongue was as dry as a bone. It was all his fault, of course, no other customer could have made her this tongue-tied. "Why's it always gotta be like this with you?"

---

The following 1 user Likes Charley Goode's post:1 user Likes Charley Goode's post
   James Fletcher

---

“What trouble?” Jimmy said innocently, as if ordering flowers was something he did all the time, and definitely had the overflowing pockets for, not just as elaborate bullying scheme. Since Great-Gran had died, he was alone in the house, and otherwise unsupervised – so he could get away with things like this. (Or he needed the distraction more than ever, or did not want to be alone for too long.)

He had needed something to laugh about, and Charley Goode scowling at him on his doorstep was the perfect answer to it. He would even tolerate the geraniums now nipping at his fingertips as he held them as worth it, still. Jimmy beamed at her – a deliberately sustained, entirely nonchalant beaming smile, if only because he knew it would annoy her more. He only shrugged at her question, unaffected, and opened the door a little wider. “You want to come in for a minute?” he proposed, as if watching him set down a pot of geraniums he really had not needed was any kind of interesting lure for her. “I might even give you a tip, if you do.”

---

The following 1 user Likes James Fletcher's post:1 user Likes James Fletcher's post
   Charley Goode

---