March 4th, 1893 - High Street, outside the Apothecary
Savino Zabini

Angie was already feeling tempestuous bordering on murderous as she exited the apothecary with nary half the things she needed. The only good thing they'd had was the doxycide she'd been looking for, because if she saw one more of those little furry black bastards in her flat she was going to blow the whole thing up. The curtains she did not want to have to replace looked ragged now and she was just beyond frustrated with the entire situation. How did she even get an doxy infestation anyway?

It didn't help that she had a nasty cold, was probably feverish and all she'd needed was one ingredient for both her cough potion, but at least she'd been able to get the last thing she'd needed for her pepper up potion which she added, swirled and downed as soon as she stepped out onto the street. The tingling in her fingers indicated it was working, but it did little to improve her mood, even if she felt mildly human again.

Sniffling, then coughing violently onto her cloak, Angie pulled it tighter around her. She would have to trudge back to London and check the apothecary there before going home. She had come to Hogsmeade specifically because she never had any trouble getting what she needed. It was a stop she hadn't anticipated making. Another coughing fit stopped her dead in her tracks and she nearly dropped the doxycide in the process. Maybe she needed some bourbon, that would help with the cough. She had to have a bottle at home. Better not to take a chance and so she turned around and nearly collided with a familiar, if unwanted face.

"I do not have the energy or the time for you today Zabini." Angie barked at him, which elicited more coughing and she backed away, so as not to cough on him. He had been a strange fixture in her life, popping up here and there after their initial run-in where he claimed to see her getting injured on assignment. Well two years later and she was still perfectly fine even if in her research on him, she had in fact, learned his seer claim was true.

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“Coincidence, I swear,” Savino protested, which was true – he had felt weak enough as it was all week without needing to set himself up for a fistfight with an angry Miss Swan.

He had found out little else about her in their run-ins, besides her name, and that she was usually angry. He hoped his mere presence in her path today wasn’t the reason there was already literal steam coming out of her ears... but, to be honest, he wouldn’t bet against it either. He stepped back a pace at her barking tone, and put a hand out, covertly grateful that he had already downed an anti-paralysis potion today to stop his limbs feeling quite so numb and his grasp so shaky.

He held out a coin-purse to her. “Just, you left this,” he said, nodding his head back wryly at the apothecary window, half-convinced she would find a way to berate him about this too, as if he’d been following her for any other reason. It had been almost two years, and it obviously hadn’t happened to her. So he had half given up on mentioning it to her by now; but at the same time, the urge hadn’t changed. Because she might believe he’d been wrong, or crazy, but Savino was certain that the only thing that meant was that it hadn’t happened to her yet. And he could hardly just forget it, either – because every once in a while he would dream of it again.

Dreams in general were taking their toll on him worse than usual, so heavy and stressful and real in past weeks that he kept waking up trembling and exhausted and with a splitting headache that never entirely faded. Dreamless Sleep potions were no cure, but if he could shut out the Sight for at least a night or two he might have enough rest and energy to actually start dealing with them again. So he’d stocked up, and was holding out hope to feel better tomorrow – but Miss Swan was coughing rather a lot. “Are you alright?” Savino asked in slight concern; it was almost, absurdly, nice to be concerned about someone else’s health for once.

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More color flooded her cheeks out of embarrassment, in addition to the fever, that Angie knew her face must have been near completely red, even on her tan skin. Truthfully the chagrin had her swallowing what would have typically been a snarky reply. Taking the offered coin purse, Ang knew she must be unwell, to have forgotten something so important on the counter.

"Thank you." She sighed, leaning away once more to cough into her handkerchief. "I feel about as good as you look," she replied honestly. An effort to be nice was taken in baby steps. He did look a little like shit, which was saying a lot because she knew she also looked like a huge mess.

Coughing yet again, Ang felt like a lung would come up at any moment. "Needed one ingredient for a coughing potion and they didn't have it. So I have to trek back to the Alley." Why she was explaining, she didn't know, but she was swaying a little bit as she stood there, so she was going to blame the fever.

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Savino grinned unexpectedly. He knew he looked downright terrible: paler than usual, more dishevelled, dark circles under his eyes. Almost like, Savino considered dryly, a dead man walking.

“Well, then, that is saying something,” he agreed, with a little shrug of laughter and a twist of his mouth to express a little sincere sympathy for her state. After all, this was still probably the nicest she’d ever been. 

“I’m headed back to London too,” he admitted, keeping his arm halfway outstretched, half for his own balance and half to prop her up if that last coughing fit did her in. Savino glanced at her, brow furrowed. “Isn’t there – anyone who could pick it up for you?” He didn’t want to pry into her life – it didn’t seem wise – but it also seemed less than advisable, her traipsing all over the place when she should probably be in bed.

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Ang felt her lips curl upward at his quip, forgetting to be annoyed by his mere presence for a moment. He was being very cavalier about it all, given the circumstances. Though Angie was not one to share too much of her personal life with anyone that wasn't Cash, Angie sighed softly when he asked if someone could pick it up for her. Could she have owled Cash? Probably. Did she want to send him on a wild goose chase that could be both of them in trouble? No, absolutely not.

The retort that came up naturally was, don't you? But Angie had lost her snark to the fever. "No, it's just me." She shrugged and looked away, almost grateful for the cough to cover up the chagrin on her features. Ang had burned a lot of bridges in her life. She'd lost people she cared a great deal about and now it was just her. Cash was there when he could be, but he had enough going on in his life that she didn't feel like adding to his burdens with her own. "It's fine, I'm used to it." This was her normal. Angie wasn't used to being in London a majority of the time, but she would head out soon enough. Hopefully. Assignments were far less lonely and kept her much busier.

"Thank you again for bringing my purse back. I hope you're feeling better soon," Angie needed to get going or she might collapse here in the street and that wouldn't do.

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Her sigh said plenty, whether or not she’d meant it to; but then she admitted it in words as well. Self-sufficient; he might have guessed. She was a cursebreaker, an adventurer of sorts, didn’t settle and didn’t share and didn’t take advice. He wasn’t judging. He knew she could very well turn the question back on him.

So maybe he felt an affinity there, a pang of understanding. Maybe he just wanted to meddle in other people’s problems, as usual, because it was the best distraction. Maybe he just needed an excuse not to go home and continue pretending he wasn’t shutting everyone out.

“Thanks. Nothing a little dreamless sleep won’t cure,” Savino had started in answer, jangling the small stoppered potion he’d bought, but he opened his mouth again and changed tack. “I can get it for you, if you like,” he offered, unsure if he would have dared as much if she had been in full health and on usual terrifying form. After all, he was headed to London anyway. What was one extra stop? “For your coughing potion. I can drop it off on my way.” He chanced a quick grin, and a comment that might be too close to the bone. “Got to try and make sure you don’t die, don’t I?”

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Dreamless sleep, now that sounded like a good idea. Ang was pretty sure she had a couple of those stashed away in her travel bag she could use. It would suffice. She could have some whiskey and tea, she was pretty sure she had some honey. It would all be fine. A little sleep, her cozy flat.

Ang pulled a face at his joke, slightly amused by his choice of words. Normally it would have earned her ire and a snappy remark. But today she was just too tired to play into the jest. "It's very kind of you to offer, I think I will be alright." She passed him a legitimate smile, though small, for the first time since she'd met him. "Thank you. I do hope you feel better." Sighing softly, she pulled her scarf and cloak tighter around her against the chill. The slow shuffle back to the floo would be bad enough and she ought to get going.

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