Turkish coffee.  Rooftops.  The Daily Prophet.  Giving Niobe Thursby the evil eye.  Plotting evil deeds.  The Black Chimaera.   Cináed Tawse.  Her brother fouling.  Corrupting the youth.  Wild nights with a wild Briggs.

All retreated in a spinning vortex, up and out of Diagon and the Southend.  She was stuck in a castle five days over deliberations.  The old man she'd met at Signature, wispy grey tufts of hair either side of his head combed back, fine and may we say absurdly fine robes and decorations bespeaking his uncommon wealth.  She thought she'd hit the jackpot, waiting round a furnished room all her own with potions equipment set out for her use, fine meals and catching sun on her private marble balcony.  But what the man and his workers were discussing was that they wanted to put her in a different location, presumably for an additional job that was as of yet unknown to Dazmond. 

Two weeks as a live-in potions mistress was the original agreement, made on a whim.  What they were deliberating seemed to be something different, but the money at that point was speaking for itself.  Dazmond was content to go along with whatever they suggested.  She was making more from this impromptu trip than she'd ever make in Knockturn or in Diagon.  Although she'd insisted she must get back to London to attend to some business, following up on her trap she'd set for Miss Niobe Thursby, it soon became apparent that she was not going to be permitted to leave until she'd finished the job.  She'd long since resigned herself to that fact when she turned over the ordered potions after the first two weeks at the castle, but it was another five days of doing little in the way of work when she started to wonder what they were planning.  Her inquiries were, at best, circumvented tactfully, and she was mostly confined to her room.

She was taken eventually to Fingal's cave on Staffa island by boat, accompanied by Kronos, a few of his employees, and three infant house elves given to her to assist in her work.  They navigated South to the Inner Hebrides, docking on the inside of a cave with boxy, pillar-like rocks along the mouth[1].  They'd climbed a carved staircase up to the higher ground of the cave which was well-lit by lanterns and torchlight.  The area was not reminiscent of a wild spot, but was well-swept and spacious.  Cauldrons of the finest class were set over fires and long wooden tables lined with countless ingredients and vials and cutting boards were prepared for her use.  A small but not impoverished mat was set aside for her sleeping space and warm quilts and pillows adorned the spot. 

The trap was indeed alluring and fashioned to attract the imagination of the wild-spirited potions mistress.  She agreed to the arrangement at once, her romantic aspirations well-bolstered by the promise of nothing but potions-making and the subtle sound of the sea, not to mention the thousands of galleons promised her.

"Good," had agreed Kronos with a deep chortle.  "Then, my dear, we'll bring your food to you in a timely fashion twicely each day.  Your instructions are on the table and I'll trust you'll know magic is a bright no-no round that Runespoor venom.  The house-elves should do you well for stirring.  Do your best work, now, dear, and we'll set you home once you've completed our orders.  Enjoy now." 

He'd bristled and turned before Dazmond remembered herself and spun round.  "Half now," she added brashly. 

"Oh now, Dazmond, I haven't got it on me.  You'll be provided with small bags of, say, one hundred galleons to add to your pot as you progress.  If this is... acceptable?  We could of course cancel your--"

"That's er, fine.  Sir-Master-Kronos."  She'd fashioned a grin, thinking, Don't eff this up, Daz!  You've never earned this much at once in all your life.  Why would anyone go to such trouble not to pay you? She already had, after all, a burlap sac with a hundred galleons twenty-three sickles from her first two weeks of work.  Kronos and his men left satisfied as was Daz, rowed out in their boat and left her to her own devices with the potions and the elves.  She'd rubbed her hands together and waited till they'd left to jump round and shriek excitedly.

She just couldn't wait till Nate heard the bags of galleons coming round the corner; he'd have a right fit!

1.	View Fingal's cave from the inside