July 27th, 1890 — Location

"You said raw garlic cloves, but I think they were old," he admitted with a cough as the two walked through the narrow path between the shopfronts and the passing carriages in Diagon Alley. "Do garlic cloves even get old?" he added, hoping to escape her nagging by prompting an answer instead. He'd been ill ever since he and Ned went into the water after Sloane, and now there were only two weeks before the educational scrimmage and he was determined to be well.

His mother, once married to his physician father, had a handful of recipes that helped soothe the symptoms for the moment, but absolutely none that would cure him entirely. One letter to Alice later and he'd received similar advice, along with a few magical ones. Cameron had insisted that they meet in Diagon Alley so she might help him find the proper ingredients at the apothecary (and had, on one occasion, considered offering to pay her to brew the actual potion, but decided he might offend her. He'd instead bug Maddy later.)

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Alice Dawson

  

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It wasn't often that she was able to escape the farm in the summer. Now that Aine was old enough to understand basic instructions they were all expected to help wherever and whenever needed. For Alice, it meant milking the cows and goat in the mornings before working on cleaning out their stalls. The work was simple, mind numbing really, but essential.

After an indecent amount of begging, her Mum had allowed Alice to accompany her on the bi-weekly trip to London. Which happily coincided with Cameron's request for help. "Fresh is best, always," she reminded him, unsure of what he meant by old. If it had sprouted and begun to grow once more it wouldn't have been as effective. "They do get old, same as any vegetable. But really, who has garlic sitting around long enough for it to grow old?"

  

Cameron shrugged. His mother had given him the cloves, but they'd looked almost... grey. Dark white. Were they supposed to be that color? He supposed it didn't matter much anymore; he doubted Alice would try to shove garlic cloves down his throat now that he'd dragged her all the way to London. As they rounded the busy corner to the apothecary, Cameron's hand instinctively went to the spot between her shoulders as he guided her closer to the storefronts. Merlin, he hated London. Much busier than Godric's Hollow or even Hogsmeade.

"Well they're rotting in the yard back at home now," he admitted with a smile—and then a cough. "I got frustrated and threw them out. I think a potion would be more effective than garlic, don't you think? You're smart; I bet you know how to make the best coughing draught."

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There were, in her opinion, few magical remedies that were more efficient than a simple muggle one, but having no professional training whatsoever meant that her opinion was a moot point. Still, Alice was happy to assist Cameron in whatever capacity she could, and happier still to have a private afternoon with him. Sloane took up so much of the group's collective energy that having a quiet moment with either of the boys was always a treat. (This wasn't to say Alice was irritated by Sloane's energy. In fact, she was mildly convinced it was the tiny fireball that kept them all together.)

It was impossible to pay any mind to his speech with his hand on her back. Her brain short circuited, the connections all pulled in a panic of excitement. Only when the apothecary came into sight did she manage a coherent thought. "They're a simple brew," she commented as they approached the shop. Cameron ought to know it, but, like Sloane, he wasn't the most dedicated student. "Doesn't take too long either. Are you sure you don't want to just buy one from a healer? Might be simpler?"

  

Finally the apothecary was within walking distance, and there were no more enchanted carriages flying through the bumpy brick roads. Cameron dropped his arm back to his side and added a little distance between them just as a pair of two middle-aged witches gave them a look.

"Everything is a simple brew to you. I, however," he said, snickering at the image that filled his mind, "would be voted mostly to send poisonous fumes into the air during the Potions OWL." At least he could laugh at his own expense. He was just plain awful at Potions, and anyone who tried to convince him otherwise was merely trying to make him feel like less of a failure.

"And I would buy from a healer, but you know how it's been since Maddy's dad married my mum." The eldest of who-knows how many siblings, Alice was also the authority on family matters in Cameron's mind. "I don't like taking allowances from him if I can help it. It feels strange." He gave most of his allowance to Greta instead; to her, Mr. Bell was a good a father as their own.

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Alice was managing the short circuit of her brain well enough until the old crones glared at them. Certainly, if a pair of old women thought the steering hand on her back was something to denounce, then it had to be right? Cameron had asked her to London, after all. Just her. Not Sloane, or Sisse, or Calla. Surely, if this was a purely friendly visit he would've invited some of the others along?

She laughed. "It just takes a little concentration, is all." And reading comprehension. And a steady hand. Okay, perhaps potions wasn't the easiest subject to master.

They arrived at the apothecary and Alice quickly led the way through the shop. "I understand, but I doubt your mum wants you to be sick because you're not comfortable taking an allowance." Alice barely had an allowance to speak of. Some years, when the farm did terribly, she didn't have an allowance at all. "Who's going to brew this potion for you?"

  

"A little concentration! Ha!" he barked, his face breaking into a wide smile as they walked through the door of the all too-quiet apothecary. "I suppose that's one more thing you'll have to help me find in here." In truth, Cameron had concentration, but he'd focused it all on quidditch instead of classwork. He didn't care; he had no plans of becoming a potioneer or a Ministry man. His future was in quidditch.

He began sifting through the jars of potion ingredients immediately, unsure of what he was even looking for. There were kneazle teeth and crushed flobberworms. One jar even had what they claimed to be... merpeople scales? He somehow doubted it.

"I have enough for the ingredients, but not for the extra charge the healers add on for their time and effort. I may have spent some of my school shopping money on things I shouldn't have bought." Like extra candy, quidditch magazines, and an extra broom brush. "I plan on forcing Maddy to help me, so it's fine." And by "force" he meant offering to do her chores or whatever she wanted before they went back to school.

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"I don't think we'll find much of that here," she chuckled as she reached for seemingly random ingredients to hand to him. By the time they all graduated — if she graduated — she would have to give them all first aid kits of various potions to keep on hand.

They moved about the shop, and Alice added a few ingredients her mother had asked for to their pile. "Oh, Cameron. Did you at least get all your school supplies?" Alice certainly didn't have them all yet, but hopefully Mum would take her shopping soon. "Tell Madeline she can write to me if she requires assistance. I doubt she will, it really is a simple brew."

  

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Amazing set by Bee!

"I did," said Cameron, disgust written across his face as he stared at one of the ingredient's she'd given him. He was supposed to drink something with that in it!? "But it's left me with a lot less leftover. I can't bear to tell mother; she's been proud of me all summer and I don't want to give her a reason not to be, you know?" She had not been as upset she he'd expected upon learning that he'd taken a dip in the Black Lake to rescue one of his school friends. If only Sloane's mother had felt the same way about rescuing the kitten...

"Is this everything then?" he asked as Alice finally stepped back from the shelves. He counted up the knuckles in his head, and, mercifully, he even had a little leftover. "Grab something for yourself. It's a thank-you gift for letting me dragon you around London on such short notice." Nobody—not Ned, not Calla, not Sisse, and probably not Sloane—would have done the same.

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Alice laughed at his expression but said nothing. Cameron was the one who desired a magical remedy, after all, so what did he expect? The worst ingredients had the best effects, she found. "I suppose. I still think asking for the funds for a proper remedy would be worth the potential disappointment." If Madeline mixed the ingredients in the wrong order his cough could become worse, not that Alice would voice such concerns.

She paused, the jars precariously balanced in her hands. Get something for herself, what was that supposed to mean? Alice was doing him a favor, not aiding him in the hopes to snag a few extra ingredients for herself. "Oh, that's alright," she refused with a polite smile. "Mum gave me some money to bring home what she needed." Alice gestured to three of the jars in his grasp. "I should have enough left if you have time to stop for tea, though."

  

"But I like to live life on the wild side," he teased, and moved to the counter to help stack the jars. The pharmacist began extracting each bit from each container to weigh and bag appropriately, leading Cameron to nearly gag again. This is why he hated potions class.

"If you're sure," he said, but for the record would've had no issue buying her something. He didn't like to ask people for help without paying them either in money or gifts, even if they insisted on it being a favor. He could, however, go for tea. "I haven't had a good cup of tea from Gillyweed's Tea in a while," he said, counting his sickles and knuts. He would have enough.

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"And I like you living," Alice shot back jokingly. Madeline brewing the potion reassured her that Cameron wouldn't die of poisoning, but he ran the risk of his cold worsening into pneumonia. A few kids had succumbed to it in the village over the years, Declan had nearly passed from it too. A little precaution went a long way when it came to ones health.

Alice exchanged her few sickles and knuts for the potion ingredients and held the parcel to her chest. "I might have enough for a plate of bisquits, too." They certainly would have enough if they combined their funds, of that she was sure. "You'll have to lead the way. It's been ages since I've been to London." They normally did their school shopping in Hogsmeade, or, if they could, in Dublin. The tiny magical community there had the basics.

  

Cameron chuckled. “Aww, Alice,” he teased, as he slid his coins across the counter to the unamused-looking pharmacist, “That’s perhaps the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to be.” It wasn’t true, but if they were going for banter then Cameron was more than willing to play into it.

“You’re in luck that I’m here,” he said as they exited the shop, Cameron carrying the ingredients in a small basket. “Mr. Bell takes us to Gillyweed’s during break. One of the waitresses used to call me Mr. Gillywater and I hated it. I understand the reference now that someone thought to point it out.”

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   Alice Dawson

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She doubted it, but was amused nevertheless. "Must be an awfully tragic life you lead if that's the nicest thing." The pharmacist cleared his throat and Alice flushed as bright as her hair. Right, they ought to get moving.

"Mr. Gillywater...hm, I think it suits you," she continued as they made their way back out onto the busy street. Perhaps it was for the best that she didn't frequent London often. Such intense crowds overwhelmed her easily.

  

"So tragic," Cameron agreed with a nod so fast and steady that he couldn't not be joking. "I'm only a poor muggle boy turned wizard who gets to do magic tricks all year. So sad." Cameron once again led Alice around a small group of men that were (presumably) headed towards the nearby pub, and then pointed towards the end of the street.

"There it is, but if you dare call me Mr. Gillywater I'll pretend you're my stalker. Swear." He smiled brightly, and then pushed her forward.

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Alice eyed the group of men suspiciously and played close mind to the hairs raising on the back of her neck. Cameron would protect her if something nefarious happened, but he was only one person and they were grown men. Perhaps this was why Maire so rarely allowed her to visit London unaccompanied. "How terrible, and so mundane too. Next you'll tell me you can fly."

They arrived at the teashop, his guiding hand a steady force on her back. "Fine, fine. But only if we can have a plate of gingersnaps."