"The Broomstick Guild is pretty powerful as well," Sirius added, taking the group by surprise. "They managed to get flying carpets banned entirely in most of Western Europe if I recall. That's a shame considering how useful a flying carpet can be.
...
A carpet can hold many passengers and can fly at higher speeds for longer distances much more comfortably, as well as carry cargo. That's a rather important consideration for business. A ship can carry far more, more efficiently, but for small shipments that require fast delivery, a flying carpet is ideal.
There are many magical substances that just can't be transported via portkey that can be easily transported by carpet. It's actually thought that the ban went into effect to also ensure that the various Ministries would be able to continue collecting tax revenues on portkeys and traditional shipping."
"Fair enough," Harry stated, having another piece of his apple, giving the impression it was the end of the discussion. "If I wanted to get into the clothing market I would need some leverage," he said more to himself than the table, surprising her again at how fast the boy caught on to the dealings of business and what would be needed to succeed.
"Indeed, something they couldn't ignore," Nicholas stated. "But your idea is a good one; if things change I might be willing to give it a go with you, if it's still profitable."
...
( Hogwarts – Potion Master Quarters )
Severus Snape was a schemer by nature, a brewer who plotted in the shadows looking for any advantage. But here he was doing a job that he absolutely hated, teaching idiotic children how to brew potions. He downed some more brandy to numb his depression.
He hated his crappy life, stuck in this hellhole of a school, with a small crappy office and an unimpressive wage, all due to the wishes of his two masters. Not even a good fucking whore, who could nearly lobotomize a man with pleasure, could change his sour mood, nor could a bottle of the finest brandy.
"Hey, hun, where is my gold again?" the dark red-haired whore asked, her immaculate silk gown back in place as if it had not spent time crumpled on the floor of his bedroom.
"On the bedside table," he answered coldly as the woman left his presence. 'What had happened with his life? What had happened to all the grand plans of his youth? His hopes and dreams?' he asked himself.
Looking up at the attractive whore widely known as 'Ruby Red,' which was clearly an alias to hide her true identity, he saw her looking down at him, clearly wanting something. "What?" he spat.
"Call this professional curiosity, or my own damn pride, but why aren't you happy? You just did things that many men can only dream of. Darling, most of my past customers would be grinning for days after doing what we just did," Ruby Red asked.
"Does it matter? You've got your gold. What do you care?" he spat, pulling his robe tighter around his chest.
"I don't," Ruby answered firmly, sitting on the arm of the chair, flashing a long, supple, creamy leg. "Just wanted to know if I'm losing my touch."
"You're not," he said firmly. "You can go now. I don't care about the still remaining half hour on the clock you have with me," just wanting the nosy whore to leave.
"Fine, sulk, I don't care," she said, getting up and walking over to the private office floo to leave, her ass swaying side to side in her tight red gown, her heels clicking across the floor. "Whatever your problem is, I can assure you, sitting there doing nothing isn't going to change it," Ruby stated firmly.
Looking over to her as she grabbed the floo powder, he suddenly asked, "Why are you a whore?"
"I'll answer that question if you answer my own," the woman said firmly. "What's eating away at you?"
He wrestled over whether to answer the question or not before he remembered that the contract he used to hire her ensured anything he spoke of would stay private as long as it wasn't illegal. "My actions led to the woman I loved being murdered, a woman whose last words to me, when she still considered me a friend, were ones of hate and jealousy. Every day I'm forced to see her son in this place, sitting in the Great Hall.
He has her eyes, but he also has the despicable face of the man I hated with every fiber of my being. I hate this job, teaching children who just mess about with the one remaining passion of my life, but I'm trapped here, and this seems to be my penance, my own personal hell," he spat, his emotions starting to rebel from his control from the effects of the whiskey and sex.
"No wonder you're so miserable," the high-class whore stated. "But what I said before still applies: you need to move on, get the hell out of here, start anew somewhere else. Disappear, craft a new name for yourself, and a new life where no one knows who you were before."
Nodding as he listened to her words, they did have a certain appeal, even though he knew his masters would never allow it. "So why are you a whore?"
"It pays very well, and I like sex," she said easily, before looking back at him seriously. "I also have two kids to provide for, and I want the best I can get for them like any mother would." This got his full attention; he would have never guessed that she was a parent, a mother of two.
"What about their father?" he asked instinctively.
"Murdered by Death Eaters during the last war," she stated coldly, any warmth she might have had in her voice before disappearing instantly, sending alarm bells through his mind. "One of your former friends probably did it too," she said, as he covered his faded Dark Mark in shame and she grabbed some floo powder.
"I'm sorry," he stated, knowing the words were empty, automatic.
"I don't want your pity," she said furiously. "I made peace with my lot in life long ago," she added as she threw the magical powder into the fireplace before quickly disappearing in the flames.
Downing another glass of brandy before refilling the glass and downing that too, he thought about what the high-priced call girl had said.
As much as he hated to admit it, he needed to move on, just like the headmaster had advised for the last decade — to forgive and forget, to do something about his life. But the question was how? What did he want? Lily was long dead; he needed to move on and find another girl to fill the void.
...
( Greengrass Manor )
Nursing his drink slowly, "You have an interesting charge, Sirius," he admitted, thinking about the young Potter heir and finding himself truly impressed after their first meeting. His daughter had made an excellent decision in cultivating a friendship with the young heir and felt that he should continue to encourage it for the time being.
"Thank you, Nicholas," Sirius stated with a goofy grin, lounging in the padded chair. "Harry is rather unique," he said before sipping some more of his drink.
Thinking back to the dinner, he realized that his wife had been more focused on the budding lord than on making conversation with Sirius. He already had his suspicions about what his wife's motivations were. "I'm sorry for Cynthia's behavior, Sirius. I did not expect my wife to be quite so direct with her questioning," he voiced.
"There is no need to apologize; it's to be expected given Harry's position and status," his new friend stated, brushing off his wife's actions with a wave of his hand. "Several old families have already expressed interest in meeting with me to discuss the possibility of a marriage contract between Harry and their daughters."
"Oh? Who has contacted you then?" his interest stirred, wondering if any old alliances were shifting and if new battle lines were being drawn. That would be valuable information on its own.
"Lord Parkinson, Lady Zabini, Lord Patil — just to name a few of the more prominent," Sirius voiced before gulping down some more brandy. "I expect I'll receive many more in the future since it's still rather early by most standards. Either way, Harry will most likely have his pick of the most desirable young ladies in magical Britain."
'Interesting,' he mentally noted. "Have you talked to Harry about the possibility of marriage contracts?" wondering if the young lord was open to them and could strike a deal with Sirius.
"Yes, but it wasn't encouraging. Nor would I ever force one upon him. I doubt I could, even if I tried to," Sirius expressed with a sigh, this last statement taking him by surprise.
...
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