Argent and Emerald-HP Fanfic

Chapter 1: Femina Americana

Of the many auspicious events that had transpired over the course of Octavia Argent's modest fifteen years of life, the day her mother flew them both halfway around the world for a business opportunity was definitively the worst. Soggy, foggy, and simply a dreary change from her beloved Southern California Octavia, who much preferred her nick name Tavy, despised London.

She sighed, stepping off the front steps of the flat she and her mother were renting and onto the wet sidewalk. The inclement weather matched Tavy's perpetually foul mood since the move, she felt as she stamped along in shiny black boots, shattering puddles and sending watery shards everywhere. In the back of her mind, Tavy recognized she was being infantile and petulant about everything, she knew she should in fact be overjoyed that her mother's hard work in the PR field was finally being rewarded, but she simply couldn't bring herself to. Not yet anyways.

Ducking out the rain and under the cover of a fabric overhang, Tavy let the uniquely warm scent of curry wash over her, and the warmth from the food cooking inside the stand chase away the chill. One thing her small beach side town lacked in the way of cuisine was curry, London's main redeeming factor in Tavy's book, their delicious and spicy curry shops.

All but inhaling her first plate, Tavy sat on a stool at the bar counter and looked around the space-efficient shop. The inside was gorgeous, decorated with gold crown molding and vibrant murals and tapestries. Intricate bronze lamps with colored glass of a thousand different shades threw bright, flickering light in every direction. The place had an ambiance that felt like a hazy day dream, the kind that you never wanted to wake up from.

As if on cue, Tavy's phone buzzed, and she fished it out of her jacket pocket to see a notification flashing from her mother with two simple words that made her stomach knot: Home. Now. No flourish, or silly faces, and that meant trouble.

As Tavy threw what she hoped was the correct number of notes onto the table to account for her order she made a beeline for the exit and hit the pavement running. It was only about half a mile from her apartment, but as Tavy sprinted through the light miss she though over and over in head: What could it be?

The familiar cream colored complex with black doors came into view, and despite Tavy's stomach and lungs protesting that she was not, in fact, athletic enough for this kind of exercise Tavy sped up. She came to a stumbling halt at the steps in front of the 201 B and pounded her way inside, and up the stairs. When she reached her door, she fumbled with the keys jammed in her back pocket only to find once she had them the door was unlocked. With a sharp inhale to attempt to calm her heaving breath, Tavy gave the door a firm push and stepped into the foyer.

The first thing Tavy saw from the entryway was the back of two heads and two identical black trench coats taking up the sofa. Facing them, Tavy saw her mother, which immediately comforted her, despite the slightly dismayed expression she wore on her pale face. Upon seeing Tavy, her dark brows knitted together, and the two men turned to look at her, red faced and disgruntled.

"Immigration?" Tavy managed in fairly even voice, playing off her anxiety and breathlessness as she strode in and stood next to her mother. Tavy glanced at her mother out of the corner of her eye. People always said the two of them looked remarkably similar, but Tavy didn't quite see it. Her mother, Livia, was statuesque, fair skinned, with dark brown hair delicate features, and hazel eyes. Tavy, by all accounts anyways, took after her father medium tone skin with a smattering of freckles, dark brown eyes, and so short she bordered on dwarfish. Next to her mother, Tavy truly looked like a child.

"Of sorts." One of the men replied, to answer Tavy's question. "But we aren't with the British government, you understand. We're with the Ministry."