Jily oneshots

Mother Deer

by GhostOfBambi

Boredom, Euphemia believes, is the death of happiness.

She hates being bored, and will go to great lengths to avoid it. Some of her greatest accomplishments have come as a direct result of boredom. As a young girl in Santorini, when she was still a Dimakos and not yet a Potter, she first took up a cookbook because she was bored, and a glittering culinary career followed suit. She moved to England, all by herself and just shy of eighteen, because she was bored, and met her sweet, self-made husband on a whim-inspired walk through Hampstead Heath. Upon retirement, once she'd earned enough Michelin stars and felt she'd done all she wanted, she bought the coffee shop because she was bored, and quickly made a success of it.

Her only son, James, who by all accounts is a fine, handsome, charmingly ridiculous young man, was quite unexpectedly conceived - following years of expensive, fruitless attempts that got them nowhere and eventually became too upsetting to continue - because there was nothing good on telly. Miracles can happen when Euphemia is bored.

He's twenty-six now, her boy, and he took the restaurant off her hands and he knows what he's doing, but in another sense he's a total dolt, and Euphemia finds herself bored. Bored of the dates he brings to family dinners. Bored of his string of failed relationships. Bored of his inability to meet the right girl. Bored of strolling past bridal shops in the city, staring at the displays of ostentatious, wide-brimmed 'mother of' hats and wondering when her turn will come. Bored of not having grandchildren.

If ever a person could achieve immortality, Euphemia would be the one, but as that's not likely to happen, James needs to hurry his arse up.

Or else, she thinks, she'll hurry it for him.

It's a perfectly ordinary day when Lily walks in and marks herself out as Euphemia's future daughter-in-law.

The poor child doesn't know that she's doomed to that fate, of course. She's just there to get a drink, not a husband. Euphemia doesn't either, not at first, when the girl quietly joins the queue of early morning caffeine-seekers, yawning behind her hand, because she's busy concocting a flat white for a flat white businessman. Being the boss, Euphemia could easily sit in the back room with her feet up and allow Sirius and Mary to handle the morning rush, but Sirius is perpetually late and she likes being on the front lines. A chef must hustle and bustle behind the scenes, but a barista sees a variety of people, and Euphemia enjoys people.

Really, customer service is a great job for her at this age. She's too old to be upset by the opinions of idiots, yet not old enough to despise all humanity. It's a sweet spot in which to exist.

"What can I get you?" she asks the girl, once it's her turn, and her tired, preoccupied expression immediately becomes a smile.

"Can I have a tea – no, a hot chocolate to go?" she says. "And a croissant, please?"

"Treating yourself?"

The girl nods. "I've got a long day ahead of me."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a barrister," she explains, and stifles a yawn. "Just. First time in court today and I barely slept for nerves."

Euphemia has never seen eyes like hers, the prettiest shade of emerald one could imagine, and her long red hair is enviably lovely. She has always adored red hair, which bears the magical quality of distinction.

As has her son, she recalls, quite inconsequentially, as she begins to heat the milk for the girl's order.

"That's quite exciting," she says. "Is it an interesting case?"